Cyrus picked up the napkin that sat at his right side and dabbed his face with it in an exaggerated show of politeness that caused Terian to roll his eyes and J’anda to guffaw. “I don’t think so,” he said with a shake of the head. “Letting them run loose through this place, tearing it to pieces? Sounds like a recipe for losing discipline. Not to mention the fights it’d likely start over who gets what loot. No, we’ll take what foods we can carry, the spices, and we’ll go through the weapons to see if there’s anything that would be worth parceling out to the army, since,” he coughed, “there isn’t anyone left alive to fight here. Any other objects …” He shrugged. “I don’t want to feel like we’re looting, but I suppose this isn’t that different from any other expeditions we’ve mounted, save for the fact that here our foes are human.”
“Damned right,” Terian said with a snarl. “If this was a castle of dark elves you wouldn’t think twice about dividing up the spoils from them, so why wouldn’t we add the assets from ransacking this place to the guild bank? There’s likely some jewels or something, isn’t there?” He looked to Longwell, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.
“Hm?” The dragoon looked up when the others in the room turned their attention to him. “Oh, yes. A Baron of his station would likely have a number of precious stones, gold and silver, and I daresay that within the armory you could find more than a few swords and axes that would be better than some of the things I’ve seen our warriors toting about. Luukessian steel isn’t mystical since we don’t possess magic, but it’s of good enough quality. And there are certainly a few mystical weapons that have made their way to our shores,” his hand grasped the hilt of his lance, “though not many.”
“Is it considered acceptable to plunder your conquests in Luukessia?” This from J’anda, who held his goblet up to his nose and took a deep inhalation of his wine before sipping again.
“Oh, yes,” Longwell said. “Conquest is much more brutal here than in Arkaria, you might have noticed. Looting and pillaging is perfectly normal when you conquer, much like we saw from the dark elves in Termina. Also, without weapons and armor that can add strength or the ability to use magic, many women are treated like chattel and considered part of the spoils of war.” He looked around the table and saw the looks on the faces of Nyad and Martaina. “Not that I endorse such thinking myself, but you heard the Baron-and he is not alone in his way of thought.”
“Pardon me?” Martaina looked at the dragoon in askance.
“Well, women are forbidden to own property,” Longwell said. “They are considered to be subject to the rules of their husbands, subject to their whims.”
“So, what?” Aisling’s purple eyes flashed in anger. “I’m supposed to kowtow to some man because he thinks he’s stronger than me? That I’m good for cooking meals, relieving his tensions in the night, making plump babies, and nothing else?”
Terian eyed her up and down. “You’re pretty thin; I doubt you could make a very plump baby with those hips.”
Her hand moved fast, fast enough that Cyrus barely saw it. The dagger was out and thrown before Cyrus could shout a warning. Terian dodged it, barely, and it embedded in the stuffed padding in the back of Terian’s chair. He clucked softly at her and smiled. “I’m keeping the dagger.”
“As what? A memento of the only occasion when a woman paid you attention without gold filling her purse in exchange?” She smiled sweetly at him but it was all fake, and Cyrus could see the venom beneath. “I’ve got better ones; ones I save for people I actually mean to kill.”
Far in the distance, Cyrus could hear very low whimpers from Baron Hoygraf, alone in his quarters on the floor above. “I doubt we’ll change the male-dominated hierarchy of Luukessia today, so let’s shelve this discussion.”
“I suppose you’re okay with it if we get to this land his father rules,” Aisling pointed at Longwell, “and he tells us women to sit in the back line of battle, or worse, in the prep tent.”
“I presume your father won’t tell me how to run my army?” Cyrus looked at Longwell, who nodded confirmation. “Besides, if I’m not much mistaken, the attitude in this land is not wildly different than what I’ve heard about life in Saekaj Sovar.” He stared hard at Aisling, and she looked away. “Since it’s considered the norm, I want officers and our veterans to go over the castle, top to bottom, and decide if there are things beyond food we should take with us as spoils. Half of the value will go to the guild bank for the effort expended to take the castle. We’ll burn everything else.”
“Half of the haul will be a small fortune with a holdfast as rich as this one,” Longwell said, approving. “What’s to be done with the other half?”
“I want it given to the two women whom the Baron captured and … well,” Cyrus said, lowering his voice. “We can’t undo what was done, but perhaps if they’ve joined Sanctuary for adventure and thought the better of it, they can take the recompense and it will at least give them some options where they might not have had any before.”
“That will likely be enough to allow them to live a fairly well-off life,” Longwell said. “Unless I miss my guess on the size of the Baron’s treasure hoard.”
“Good.” Cyrus took the last bite of mutton then slid his chair back from the table. “Work through the night if you have to, but I want it all set to travel tomorrow morning. Take the animals out of the stables and give every one of our people that was captured their own horses.” He stopped in thought. “I hadn’t wanted to bother with wagons while we were traveling down the beach to the bridge, but now that we’re in Luukessia, I expect we could take some wagons with us, yes?” He looked at Longwell, who nodded. “Good, that’ll spare us having to send one of our wizards or druids back to Sanctuary with the spoils, and we may yet have a need for some of those items to trade later in our journey.” He looked at the faces around him. “Anything else?”
No one said anything, but there were a few shrugs. Cyrus smiled. “Then I’m going to go steal a few hours sleep in the Baron’s bed.”
J’anda threw a wadded-up napkin at Cyrus.
“What? You’re not the only one that longs for a soft bed, my friend.”
“Hmph,” the enchanter said, teasing. “Perhaps I’ll join you later.”
“Hah,” Cyrus said. “Just don’t wake me, whatever you do.” He left and turned to go down the hallway. “If someone wants to drag the Baron down to his own dungeons, I wouldn’t complain.”
“He probably would, though,” Longwell said. “I think I can hear him complaining now.”
“Complaining, whining, dying-when it’s a raping, murdering, bastard doing it, who cares which it really is?” Martaina asked.
Cyrus felt his feet clank against the stone as he walked down a hallway that led to the Baron’s quarters. The torches burned, giving it a smoky aroma that filled his nose. There was a soft whisper of leather on stone behind him, causing him to hesitate. “If you’ve come to proposition me, even if I were amenable, I’m far too tired for that tonight.”
Aisling walked past him, her shoulder bumping gently against his armor. “You didn’t speak up against their treatment of women in this land.”
“I gutted the Baron who captured our people and raped our women,” he said, staring at her as she turned to stand opposite him, only a few feet from his face. “I gave away half the guild’s spoils so we could try and give the women a fresh start if they decided they wanted to leave behind this adventuring life. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”
“It’s not only about what you do,” she said in a low whisper, “sometimes it’s about what you say-or don’t say.”
Cyrus let out a deep sigh. “I’m in love with a woman who wields a sword better than any man I’ve ever met save one, a woman who wears heavier armor than I do, who can beat the ass off almost any man she’s ever crossed swords with. Do you really think I have a problem with women being the equal of men in any capacity?”