[quote=@persianversion] It was the closest she had come to freedom in a year, yet Najla wanted no part of it. The details the steward had given her were sparse, and likely carefully planned, and as such, her conversation with him had left her confused and unsatisfied. [i]“I don’t understand.” [/i] [i]“You don’t need to.”[/i] The steward had never been cruel to her, but he did not like her, and now she was wasting his time. [i]“I’m sorry. I just don’t-” [/i]she caught herself before she could say ‘understand’ once more, knowing it would only irritate him more. [i]“You’ll be outfitted and readied tomorrow, he should be arriving then. Go rest.”[/i] Najla disobeyed him. Her night was fitful, and to Najla, it seemed the steward had only told her that which would worry her. He had told her of the man she was to serve, and that kept Najla awake deep into the night, praying that a Servant of the Monarch wouldn’t harm her, or even that this Ketill would either be kind or stupid enough to allow her freedom someday. The steward had also told her that this was to be a holy expedition, nothing beyond that, and yet that was enough to keep Najla awake as well, pleading that the Monarchists would fail before she was made to betray her faith. ---- Najla spent much of the next day under the steward’s eye, being prepared for her new task. Thankfully, this included a chance to clean herself up some, and even some newer clothes to travel in. She asked no more questions about her future during this time, knowing the steward would offer her nothing else. Instead, she was given instructions from time to time, and Najla limited any questions to those instructions. Her prayers last night had eased her mind some, having convinced her that this was more of an opportunity than a setback, and with a diminished fear of her future, Najla was less keen to know it. The steward had called on her when they had seen Ketill arrive, and she was simply told to wait until they could bring her in. She had been ready for some time, given a few necessities, her hair braided out of her face, though Najla expected that she would be made to wait longer as they spoke inside. Apparently everyone was as eager to leave Barren Flats as she was, for it took little time before the steward walked back through the doors, motioning for her to follow him. Though she could hear Lord Jachsen’s now-familiar voice as he introduced her, it was but a background to the rush of thoughts as she eyed the man. She only looked upon him for a moment, instantly casting her eyes downward when she caught his gaze. He was indeed a Servant, and the easily recognizable marks on his forehead caused her to bristle, though she did not have long to relish her anger before he approached. Hearing the swift strides of his feet, Najla looked up moments before he grabbed her. His grip was as unrelenting as his pace, and he was far taller than her, leaving Najla struggling to keep up as he pulled her along. When he finally released her, she instinctively reached up to touch her arm, as if worried it would bruise. [i]“Your name?”[/i] The harsh tone jolted her, and she glanced around the room as if suddenly becoming aware of her surroundings, only taking a breath before her response. [i]“Saina.”[/i] It had been the name she gave upon her capture, and then her name for a year. It was a name of no importance to her, simply a common one she had conjured when she needed any name but Najla. With that, she began to help. The harsh tone of his voice had not escaped her, and based on the way he was rapidly packing, she could guess as to why. Her movements were quick and clean, and she only hesitated as he asked her another question, again in the same tone. Najla was hardly surprised that he could tell, assuming that his time fighting her people had familiarized him with their faces. [i]“The Sultanate, my lord.”[/i] Her eyes flicked upwards, studying his face cautiously. She was watching his expression for any changes, the slightest flicker of a frown or snarl to gauge his reaction from. Instead, she found herself studying his scars at first, then the marks on his forehead, both of which seemed to provide her with enough answers. When her gaze moved from his forehead to his eyes, the like of which she had rarely seen, it lasted but a moment, and she looked down again as if embarrassed. Her judgement of him had only taken a moment, and in spite of all her questions, it did not occur again. She continued to help him pack his things, all the while making sure to stay out of his way. Her work was swift, as she was trying to meet Ketill’s furious pace, and it did not take long before she had closed a couple of his bags. It seemed Najla was just as eager to leave as he was, for though she was certainly more fearful, leaving this god-forsaken keep had been a prayer of hers for a year now. She stood by the door with these bags in her hand, simply waiting, either for another command, or to follow him out. It was an odd sensation, to maintain such a timid attitude and wait around for another’s commands, but a year of this humiliating process had made her exceptionally good at it. [/quote]