The sharp scent of a battlefield was something that a man had to grow used to, as was the sensation of killing men on said battlefield. Leif remembered his first skirmish, he’d been fourteen years old when it had happened and to this very day, he remembered each and every gritty detail. The shrieks of the Duchess inside of the caravan they’d been robbing, the sputtering of blood from the throats of dying men, the stark contrast of scarlet blood spattered against the pearlescent white of the noblewoman's carriage. The thing that stuck out the most in his mind, however, was that God forsaken smell. The first thing he’d done after the killing was finished was lean over one of the bodies, it’s mouth still gaping and eyes bulged open, and wretch. The leader of the small raiding band he’d joined had laughed and clapped him on the back whilst he was still heaving up his breakfast.<br/><br/>“Don’t worry, kid,” he’d chuckled softly, helping him down into a sitting position to regain his bearings. “You get used to all the shit, piss, and blood, I swear it. One day you might even get to enjoying the smell.”<br/><br/>The band leader hadn’t been lying, he’d grown rather accustomed to the distasteful cocktail that death produced. Unlike a great number of warriors, though, he’d never grown to enjoy it all that much. Death was a necessity to his livelihood, he had to kill in order to survive in this life he’d been forced into and so he did without much of any hesitation but never did he enjoy it. This time around he’d enjoy the kill even less; he knew many of the men guarding this carriage, he’d worked with them, fought alongside them. He also knew the man enclosed within fairly well, at least in a professional sense. He’d received payments directly from his hand for past business dealings, and he found himself feeling a rather strong sense of melancholy as he stood on high ground now astride<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.horsebreedspictures.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2016%2F03%2FSpanish-Norman-Horse-Pictures.jpg&amp;hash=1fb48892c4a34d8e2bb44488d60c0601" href="http://www.horsebreedspictures.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/Spanish-Norman-Horse-Pictures.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">his horse</a>, watching Taiga as he danced around like a bird with a broken wing, realizing it was about to be closed within the jaws of a salivating predator.<br/><br/>“On your call, Leif,” muttered<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fexsecratus.com%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2016%2F08%2Fcurly-haired-men-1.jpg&amp;hash=d03c3d07e3890d025cd37b41f3ba65e7" href="https://exsecratus.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/curly-haired-men-1.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">the man</a>beside him, a tall, well built blonde with his long curly locks hanging loosely about his shoulders.<br/><br/>“We hold, Gunnar,” Leif responded bluntly as he watched the battle rage down below, leaning forwards slightly in the deeply set<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F-YHx_u_NbFDk%2FTaMINAXr-2I%2FAAAAAAAAHCc%2FUXA2ofh2TCY%2Fs1600%2F6%252BApr%252B2011%252B-%252BNuestro%252BCaballos%252B-%252BSecond%252BDay%252B011.jpg&amp;hash=63cc5e3d70a17209532d052bc7ca20e8" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YHx_u_NbFDk/TaMINAXr-2I/AAAAAAAAHCc/UXA2ofh2TCY/s1600/6%2BApr%2B2011%2B-%2BNuestro%2BCaballos%2B-%2BSecond%2BDay%2B011.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">fur saddle</a>that he was settled into atop his mount. He watched as the birds that had been harassing the men of his band suddenly scattered and the tides turned rather rapidly after that. He whistled sharply and then motioned forwards with two fingers before digging his heels up into the sides of his mount. The black stud, whom he’d affectionately dubbed Harvard, charged forwards with an agitated squeal befitting a warrior’s mount. Leif hunkered down low in the saddle, clicking his tongue rhythmically to urge his mount to continue forwards at the set pace. The equine happily obliged, keeping pace with the horses around him in their controlled charge forwards to fill in the spaces left by the initial kickback from Taiga’s guardsmen. It took merely the charge of the horses to bring the last man standing to his knees, or at least to the ground where he rolled around in a brief spat of hand to hand combat before being bested by his considerably larger opponent.<br/><br/>Leif reined up his horse, watching with a cool expression as Taiga was bound. He vaulted from the back of his horse, patting the creatures neck affectionately as he gazed levelly at the captured noble. Taiga craned his neck about and their eyes met. Still full of life, it would seem, Leif couldn’t help but chuckle softly and shake his head despite himself at the man's exaggerated eye roll.<br/><br/>“That’s quite the display of disdain for someone in your position, dear Taiga,” he murmured with a deceivingly warm smile. Leif hunkered down in a squat in front of the pretty young man and tutted softly as he reached out to wipe away the dribble of blood from his lip and chin. “I’ll get you cleaned up when we get where we’re going, can’t have such a pretty face looking so filthy, now can we?” he whispered with a sigh before standing up and stretching about. A few men had already taken residence near the carriage, either unhooking the horses to bring back for their own use or sifting through the contents of the thing and finding goods or spare parts they could pillage for their benefit.<br/><br/>“Vidar, what would you have me do with him?” Leif called out to<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2F236x%2F2c%2F21%2F61%2F2c21617e1c6e4a3075be4d0c353f901c--mens-long-hair-styles-men-long-hair.jpg&amp;hash=d9599a1a8dc0baf7c17db0a58335edcd" href="https://i.pinimg.com/236x/2c/21/61/2c21617e1c6e4a3075be4d0c353f901c--mens-long-hair-styles-men-long-hair.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">the leader</a>of their little band. He was a large, bearded gentleman whose age was starting to show in deep wrinkles on his face and grey strands of hair in his thick name. He turned at the sound of Leif’s voice, the man with the youthful features had grown in ranks to find himself one Vidar’s right-hand man, one of the handful that the man trusted without fail.<br/><br/>“Get him up on Harvard, we’ll be taking leave shortly,” the man muttered in that distinctive deep, gravelly voice of his.<br/><br/>Leif nodded shortly before shouting over at one of the other men in the band, they moved in tandem to lift the slight ruler up and get him slung over the strong neck of Leif’s little horse. The stud shifted about slightly beneath the oddly positioned extra weight but didn’t offer any further protest even after Leif had swung himself up into the saddle again. He wasn’t an unkind mind, he’d tried his best to make the man’s position as comfortable as it could be in such a compromised, awkward position, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do in that very moment as they began making off with their captive and loot back towards their little temporary hold settled right at the mouth of a shallow cave they’d scouted weeks prior to the nobleman’s capture. Perhaps once they had made it back into camp he’d be able to fix him up to be just a bit more comfortable in what Leif hoped would be his short stay with the band of men.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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