"Yes, sir." Another crisp salute to his captain.

Konrad slid his flail into its sheath, bending down to pick up the blunderbuss. A curious piece of machinery, or magic. He shrugged, not really caring which it really was. His heavy crossbow did the job well enough. He didn't need any devil-powered weapons. Standing up, he saw Gerald knee the man in the stomach, handling him as a child would a doll. Gerald's side comment to Kolbe and himself made him narrow his eyes, his lip curling a bit.

"Gerald. I want this man alive, you hear me? The captain said nothing about killing him. We don't need to be killing the smallfolk across the lands. And if he's with the warparty, we need a bargaining chip. People don't pay for damaged goods." He pointed his finger at the man as he talked, his armor clanking as he did so. 

[i]No one deserves that shit. Poor sod. I'll have to ask the captain about keeping him as a prisoner.[/i]

He shook his head. No need to go turn on fellow knights. He may need them, and they him by the end of this. Sighing, he looked at Kolbe. 
"I'm off to burn this. I'll start the main campfire and gather firewood while I'm at it. Might as well make dinner, too. Do you mind pitching the tents? I'd appreciate it." Konrad nodded at the man, then went off to start his nightly chores.

He found the perfect spot. A building, its walls still strong. The shed out back big enough for the horses, not touched by the fire. He scanned the area.

[i]Needs some work. If we had some foot soldiers, we could dig a pit around us and fill it with spikes. I'll work on that soon enough. Maybe.
[/i]
He smiled to himself. Years ago, he would've leapt at his tasks with gusto. Now he went through the motions, stiff and aching in his joints. He felt every year he had on him. The fire caught, crackling as he added kindling then smaller sticks. He threw on some ruined timber from the attack, recycling some of the already burnt wood. No need to go tearing more houses down. He led his horse over to the shed, tying it up. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure none of the other knights were present.

"There we are, Mr. Hooves. You had a long day." He stroked his horse's muzzle, then hooked up the feed bag and began rubbing her down and cleaning her hooves.

Mr. Hooves was actually a girl horse, but it really didn't matter. He remembered buying her almost a decade and a half ago. A gift for his little girl, at the time. And when your little girl tells you that the name is Mr.Hooves, the name is Mr. Hooves. He cleared the lump from his throat. Dinner needed to be made.

It was a quick meal, some rations boiled over the campfire to make a warming stew. He lit it simmer, looking at the strange elven weapon. When he couldn't find a mark of ownership, or the maker's insignia, he pitched it in the fire, under the pot. He spied the captain, walking over to him.

"Sir. Camp is almost made, and the blunderbuss is being burnt even as we speak." He gave a small salute before continuing.

"A moment of your time sir." He stepped a bit closer. 
"I know it isn't my place, but are we going to kill that man? Wouldn't he be more valuable to us alive, rather than dead? He could be telling the truth. I know that in times of war or battle, decisions must be made regardless of how harsh it may seem." Konrad stood straight, stepping back once more. 

"That's all, sir. Stew's in the pot. I'll take first watch, if you don't mind."

He retrieved his crossbow, readying it in advance. Any brigands or would-be killers out there would be in for a nasty surprise. He loaded his bolt, then picked up his bowl of stew, silently eating.

[i]I suppose it's a "shoot first and ask questions later" kind of a night.[/i]