Knight in Amour

The servility of the defeated

18/02/2008 02PM Slaves stable, Willowcombe Manor.

The sudden cold wet impact shocks War from his exhausted sleep. He swipes aimlessly at the path the water took to reach him, but second of Leigh is standing far enough back to be well out of range.

"You fucking idiot."

For a moment he is not sure if the voice is one of the men or internal to his own head. His dreams before waking seam to have predominantly consisted of a tirade in welsh that could only have originated from one of his dressing downs by Emrys after returning to the house with Iain still drunk, or even worse, already hung over. He shakes his head, feeling the freezing water cascade off him and risks blinking.

The room is still fairly dark, although the strong bands of light from the narrow windows hint that the sun is well above the yard arm. He sits up slowly, testing each limb before relying on it. Every thing feels painfully stiff, the muscles in his arms and jaw are sore and over stained as if he spent the last night in the gym. He blinks again, focusing on the man with the bucket. There is still a portion of water in the bottom and War can tell the man is weighing up whether to throw that as well. He holds up his hand in hopes of staying off another freezing soaking.

The man lowers the bucket, looking at him carefully. "You fucking idiot." He says again, confirming that the voice was external to War's dreams.

War blinks at him.

The man drops the bucket and looks down the row of stalls. "Stu, he is awake."

"How many times have I told you not to call me that!" A males voice snaps. "You never know if they are listening." There is the sound of bare feet on stone and a figure stalks into view "I have no wish to be whipped for your stupidity." He looks into War's stall and shakes his head. "God they did a number on you." He says. "Fourth of Oliver, get the first aid kit."

'Stu' moves into the stall as War swings his feet round to sit up properly. As his arms come into view he can see deep red wields on them. He looks at the damaged confused for a moment. There is a flicker of memory. The same view of his arms but with ropes tightly around them where the marks are now. Other memories follow it, although he would be happier if they did not given the subject matter. Memories of Kirsty being encourage to beat him as punishment for his transgressions. He can forgive the act as part of establishing the cover, and he would like to dismiss her eagerness as that. But something is needling him. All in all he be happier seeing her in private to be sure things are still on track.

He flexes his fingers, revealed that, even if there is pain, everything is still working. Then he looks up at the man.

"I've had worse." He dismisses, and for a moment wishes he was lying.

'Stu' shakes his head. "Why did you have to go running off like that?" He says quietly.

"I wasn't running off." War defends. "I was scouting the land."

"What ever you want to call it, it was a stupid move. If you had stayed here we could have explained things, warned you what was going to happen." He glances out of the stall, checking which of the other men are in listening distance

"The guys who were here tried to warn me off enough." War responds.

'Stu' shakes his head. "Some are more compliant than others." he says. "You'll see soon enough. They will want us soon. I suggest you get yourself cleaned up and presentable." he nods to the man returning with the first aid kit. "Fourth will help dress your wounds."

"I'll be fine." War replies.

"You won't be the one being punished if you haven't been treated." 'Stu' snaps. He nods to the man standing nervously with the first aid kit.