Nicholas
Mozi'ach Blutgerinnsel
Ludmilla's Home, Azarya

*"He's the village's doctor, or that's what I was been told."* He props Mozi'ach up, sighing. *"Glad the wound is closed, but... Our travel..."* "Cancel it..." Mozi'ach said meekly, the large built of the man was sunken with fever.

*"Sire, we don't have a messenger bird, and this is an execution that has been given a high price for you."* "Cancel it. We don't need the money. We don't NEED more people running after us..." *"I... If you wish so."* Joel walked out, going to go to the town to see if they have any messenger birds to carry out a message to Irongate.
Wendie
Ludmilla Monette
Ludmilla's Home

Ludmilla sits on the bench across from the two as she watches the exchange and listens. She isn't quite used to so much drama, especially in her quiet home. She thought about her weaving, she should get back to it soon. Ludmilla was less concerned about that, now, as she listened, however. Joel seemed especially worried about the lost profits and staying here in Azarya, Ludmilla was slightly surprised at Mozi'ach's calmness and assertiveness about the unplanned delay. When Joel left again, she watched as he went out the door. 

"I suppose the two of you find trouble on the road often?" She asked, making conversation. There would certainly be a lot of that, if they would be staying for three days. She got up as they talked, going over to her spinning wheel. She picked up some raw wool from the basket next to her wheel and began threading it through, spinning the wool into thin thread.
Nicholas
Mozi'ach Blutgerinnsel
Ludmilla's Home, Azarya

"Aye. Bandits are common for us these days. The more the word of me spreads to the nobles. The more the commoners chase after me. It's right for them to think like that. I have blood on my hands. And many of the people on death row were treated unfairly."

He sat up, looking at her weaving curiously. The work she did reminding him of his mother, he smiles fondly at the thought. He wonders if she is enjoying the cottage home with his youngest brother.

"But I've learned a few tricks about bandits and assassins. They get surprised at your calmness and hospitality. Most of them doesn't want to fight you. At least the ones fueled by grief and rage."

"I helped three people so far to correct their paths, A mother, a knight and... A child."
Wendie
Ludmilla Monette
Ludmilla's Home

Ludmilla nods, listening as she works. Its nice not to just be thinking to herself all the time, actually. She is surprised by this feeling she is having, of company. The way he describes it, it seems Mozi'ach must be accepting of the kind of life he leads. "It must be hard to live with that kind of weight over your head," She comments.

She nodded as he described the sort of people who follow him, the bandits and assassins. She was sort of caught off guard when he mentioned hospitality, towards those sorts of people. It seemed almost counter-intuitive, why offer kindness towards those trying to kill you? It certainly wasn't the decision Ludmilla herself would have made. But, it sounded nice, and right, the way he described it, to be able to help others find greater things in your life. 

A child, however, that was quite new. Ludmilla tuned in to the way his voice fell off when he mentioned it. She didn't want to pry, but, well, her curiosity was too much to keep to herself. "A child... Bandit or assassin?" She asked, looking up from her work with a face of soft concern.
Nicholas
Mozi'ach Blutgerinnsel
Ludmilla's Home, Azarya

"A child who tried to attack me during broad daylight, with a knife. I had executed his father of murdering townsfolk. I have never seen so many tears in my life." He sunk down. "It's a cruel job. The bodies. The repercussions. The danger."

His voice wavers, but he calms himself. "It's not much of a job I desire, but I can't back out of it unless I change my name and appearance. Fake my death and go on the run."
Wendie
Ludmilla Monette
Ludmilla's Home

Ludmilla focused her gaze back on the wheel as he explained the story. It was sad, and the way he explained it, almost made it worse. Just a child, having to watch a rough, all-business, executioner kill his father. The way he spoke to the severed heads. Imagining such a thing through child's eyes was beyond terrifying. Ludmilla felt her eyes watering, but shook her head to clear the thoughts. "I imagine it is difficult. I certainly could not handle such a job." 

She looks up to him, he seems less tough in this moment, as if he's letting down a few more of his brick barriers. The way he describes the possibility of abandoning the job, almost as if he has certainly considered it before. But, who wouldn't, she supposes. "You could, if you wanted, I do not believe anyone should be stuck in their fate if they take an effort to change it," She did her best to keep her words soft, she could get rather strong in opinion over matters of changing ones station in life. Ludmilla would never let herself be stuck somewhere she was unhappy, she had decided years ago. She wanted to believe that others should have the same choice.