“Of course, Sir,” he muttered to Vidar as the man moved to settle down Leif moves over to gently take a hold of Taiga’s bound hands at his back. “We’ll go to fetch some rags, fresh clothes, and a pail of water and then we’ll retire to my tent to wash,” he responded as he guided the man forward and out of Vidar’s space. Through the throngs of men, they moved, all of them parting for the pair but looking on with less than fond gazes. It would seem that Leif was the only one around that cared to respect Taiga for what he was: a Lord. Though within this particular band of men it only took one to stake claim over a captive for the rest to more or less back off. Especially if the man that was at said captive’s side was Vidar’s right-hand man.<br/><br/>So Leif and Taiga moved forth uninhibited, if under a fair bit of scrutiny, to a centrally located pile of bags heavy with various sorts of supplies. The band was large and, thereby it was necessary to maintain order and control of each and every aspect of their lives down to the littlest of things, such as keeping the washrags they used to scrub dirt and grime from their bodies separate from those which they used to clean their armor and other gear. It was meticulous, but it was one of the things that allowed their band of men to be so successful with their numbers.<br/><br/>Leif leaned down before Taiga to fetch a number of things from various canvas sacks. Washrags to clean up the nobleman, a small jar filled with fresh water collected from the stream a bit further down into the cave, clean clothes to change into that seemed like they’d be roughly his size, if a bit large, plus a small bit of their rationed food to offer him a bite to eat should he find himself hungry. He then led the man onwards to his own private, personal tent. His little paradise was nothing to write home about, certainly not as spacious and comfortable as Vidar’s quarters, but he was content enough to not have to sleep out upon the cool cave floor or within the confines of a small communal tent that some of the men opted to share. It was a fairly run of the mill canvas tent, a single pole protruding from the center, around which the thing was fastened into the ground to create a small, but comfortable circular living space. Upon the ground was littered a number of pillows, hides, and blankets, most of which had clearly been stolen as they were far too luxurious to belong to a man of such low status. It bothered him not, however, how he’d acquired them as now they kept his floor soft and warm, comfortable enough that he wanted not for a bed or something else to sleep on. He was content enough in his little private space, which he’d earned by keeping on Vidar’s good side.<br/><br/>“If you’ll just sit anywhere I can undress you here and we can wash instead of attempting to go to the communal baths … I’m sure you’d rather not be jeered at by the men here,” he muttered as he motioned down to his incredibly humble, yet comfortable little abode.