[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/H2Xwjg4.png[/img]
[I] “[b]M[/b]-Mind removing your poor smelling hands!”[/i]
[h3][color=lightblue]S A E .[/color][/h3][/center]
	[color=lightblue][b] “T[/b]here is still time! We can still turn around!”[/color] shouted Saewine to his father's retainer. The knight brought his four serfs to a stop, the horses snorted abruptly, melding their sounds with the heavy noise of Rot Donar.  It bumbled in his ears with trying persistence. Not to mention his ropes were finally beginning to chafe against his wrist and arms. 

	[b]R[/b]ichard's sterling armor joined the noise as he approached. [b] “S[/b]ae, ease yourself. Do not look foolish in the midst of others. It is a sure way to get yourself killed.”

	A loud [b]hmp![/b] could be heard from a serf behind him. Saewine only shot the lad a toothy frown. [b] “L[/b]et 'em be, Lord Richard. The [i]boy[/i] obviously fears for his life,” he jested with a short chuckle. Richard shot the man a warning glare; the laughter was cut to a mute. [b] “K[/b]now your place. You still speak to your better! Don't let the comforts of the field make you forgetful.”

	Saewine would have normally reveled in such a show …  but now all he could do was think of his untimely death. Angst held his heart in a tight grip, though it pounded crashingly in his ears. The feeling of his  heaving chest was especially insignificant when met with the hectic crowd surrounding him. He had no idea how long he had sat there. 

	[color=lightblue] [b] “I[/b]-I ,”[/color] He gulped deeply and let loose powerful breath. [color=lightblue][b] “I[/b]'m going to die here, Richard. Please let me go! let me escape! Give me a chance!”[/color] he pleaded lowly. 

	Richard's eyes fell as he finished untying his ropes and unstrapping his feet from the saddle's sitrrups. Saewine refused to move from his place on the horse. For several seconds Richard waited but on the fifteenth count, he reached up and snatched him off. Saewine tumbled to the ground, dirtying his cream tunic with fresh, moist, mud. [color=lightblue] “[b]R[/b]ichard! Have you gon-”[/color]

	[b] “S[/b]hut your mouth, Sae. You are no longer a protected nobleman … you are not at your [i]Keep[/i] anymore. Has that not sunk in yet? You've bartered and bitched the whole way here. Looking for escape … but don't you see, there is none. You are stuck here. No warrior wants a juvenile protecting their back. You [i]must[/i] man up.” 
	
	Embarrassment left Saewine brooding in the dirt; rain pelting his dirtied face. Beyond his dark eyes laid a child tossed aside but his countenance was a scorned grimace. He pushed himself up after a minute of enduring the serf's snickers. [color=lightblue] “[b]F[/b]ine. All of you are whoresons. Bastards that would sooner die like beggars than compare to even a inch of what I'am! I don't need you or your help. Go drop dead on some battlefield for all I care!”[/color]

	A chuckle or two eased into the air. [b] “S[/b]ooner you than us aye?” countered a serf.  

	Slowly, he sauntered off towards the twisting and ever-moving crowd. It was all he could do to keep from sprinting pass them and humiliating himself even further. For he knew Richard would sooner drag him behind his horse than fail his father. Deeper in and he could hear the loud banging of hammer on metal. The chatter became clearer and none of it was anything less than vulgar. Humidity stuck his black strands to his face, making his wet hair feel greasy for reasons unknown to him. 

	Inside of a circular tent, Saewine waited with glancing eyes for a opening. He had taken notice of two serfs following him; Richard was sure to be close by. He felt there was no way out but he'd try anyway. Looking around, he started to step out of the line but just as he did, a pair of burly hands gripped his shoulders and held him in place. [color=lightblue] “[b]M[/b]-Mind removing your poor smelling hands!”[/color] He struggled furiously. 

	The man tightened his grip, his large arms was marked with scorch marks and black stains. “ [b]'O[/b]rry, kidde. But that nice Knight ova der paid [i]me[/i] to keep [I]you[/i] in line. It was quite a bit--so I'm obliged to follow orders.”

	[b]Tsk![/b] The man's accent was strong but Saewine had gotten the gist of it. He was officially stuck.  Head low and frowning, after awhile, Saewine was next. Without a word—and a bit of hesitation—he beautifully wrote his name on the sheet and departed. Next he looked, Richard and the serfs were gone. 

	[color=lightblue] “[b]F[/b]uck. Me.”[/color] 

	He was alone in the rain, the shifting recruits blaring behind him.