Chewing on the nail of his thumb, Morvran walked up and down the room. His eyebrows were knitted together, forming an unsatisfied facial expression. His breath was fast paced and he wasn't thinking straight no more.

Over and over again he tried to rub his face and arms. A thin layer of blood was covering his pale skin. Your blood. It caused a demonic feeling to spread inside his chest. The urge to get rid of every single red dot overcame him.

"Gods, you're making me nervous. Sit down and have a cup of tea. It will calm your nerves.", the old man said, offering him a seat.

With a hateful expression, the young general glared at him. His lips twitched, he wanted to tell. But instead he tore himself together and managed to keep his words at a reasonable volume.

"How can you be so calm?", Morvran asked. "The love of my life is laying in the room next door, dying. How am I supposed to calm myself?!"

Even more nervous, he sighed and hug his foot on the ground. Dust fell from the ceiling, covering his head with a thin layer.

Shaking his head, the old man sighed.

"I will fix that after this is over.", Morvran said, with a look into the air.

Interested, the man glared at him and took a sip from his tea.

"Oh really? I don't want to be rude but you don't seem to look like a wealthy noble.", he noted, looking at him. "We agreed to let you claim the land. The mansion is with nothing, so we don't need it. But our homes are worth something, at least. You can't have them."

Surprised by his harsh words, he tilted his head.

To be fair, judging by the clothes he was wearing, Morvran appeared to be a madman. Covered in blood, his own and yours, while running around in a torn shirt and dirty pants. He wasn't even wearing good boots. His jewellery was gone, sold to a merchant months ago and if he was honest with himself, there wasn't a lot of money left in his pocket.

Dissatisfied, he growled and thought for a moment. But his mind always wandered back to the ruins, painting pictures of fear and death inside his head.

"The thieves.", he suddenly said.

"Pardon?", confused, the old man blinked.

"The camp was filled with treasures, most of them probably not from here. Send some men down there and get the chests and other stuff. We can sell it for food money."

"But we don't own those things."

"Neither did the thieves. If we take it we can rebuild this mess of a village. The rightful owners are probably thinking that their belongings are gone anyways. Nobody will miss anything. We, on the other hand, will profit from every golden coin they have stolen."

For a moment that old man fell silent. A light shimmer was shimmering in his eyes, telling Morvran that he wasn't hating the idea. He seemed to understand the point that the new master was making. Plus, his roof was almost not existent and he really wanted to live like a normal person again.

After a while of thinking, he finally nodded, got up from his chair and called for every man that was willing to hold a sword.

"Will these be enough?", the old man asked.

Checking, Morvran let his eyes wander over the few men. They weren't many, maybe a dozen but seemed to be good enough for carrying heavy objects.

"You know where to go to?", he asked the men.

"Yes, sir. But we are no fighters.", one of them said.

"That won't be a problem. The thieves should be gone by now. If anyone is still there, shoot them with an arrow. Otherwise, take everything you can carry. We need everything we can get."

With an approving nod, the men turned around and wanted to leave but the old man held them back.

"Hold on. You should go with them.", he said, turning to Morvran.

But the general refused immediately.

"I can't. My future is-"

"Shut up, boy. You need to go with them. It will be better, trust me. Sitting here and doing nothing will drive you crazy. You can't own land as a madman. Now pick up your sword and go. Some fresh air will do you no harm."

With a gesture of the head, he demanded from Morvran to leave.

He hesitated. His eyes wandered to the door that was blocking the view on you laying in bed, dancing at the edge of death. As he turned around, a painful expression was on his face. Sighing, he grabbed his sword, secured it on his belt and rushed through the door.

"If I return and my (Y/G) is dead, I will kill you.", he hissed, looking the old man deep in the eyes.

With an understanding nod, the man closed his eyes.

"I will keep it in mind, you master. But remember, if your thoughts are too grim, the gods will punish you by making them reality. Think a little more positive and life will reward you. Trust me, an old man like me knows what I'm talking about."

Shaking his head, Morvran rushed past him.

Without any orders, the other men followed him down the street.

Women were standing on their doorsteps, curiously eyeing the man that was leading their husbands out of the village. They were holding bowls filled with food as gifts and giblets filled with wine. It was as if they were celebrating a king.
Children were running after him, laughing and trying to offer him flowers as a welcome. Now, the village looked a lot more lively than it did when he had first arrived. It was nice to see all of those faces, filled with gratitude and hope.

But all of those people couldn't change the fear that was growing inside his heart. He was fearing to leave and never see you again. Not alive.

It would have killed him.