"We've searched the entire village, my thane, but they're gone."
The tall, grey-haired man doesn't even look up from the roaring firepit as he answers with a disgruntled sigh.
"Disappointing. Did you at least find some of the stolen goods?"
The woman, clad in mail straightens up a bit more and adjusts her helmet before admitting, "No.". Moving a step closer she adds, with hurried words, "They must've had help, these weren't just brigands looking for easy pick...", just as her master's voice cuts her short.
"Silence." Then, the old warrior turns around, with a face that is difficult to read in the flickering firelight. The reprimand causes her to flinch, and she awaits more harsh words with a clenched jaw. After a few moments, however, he breaks the silence with a softer voice and an accompanying smile.
"A witch hunt is the last thing that we need right now. They're gone, are they not?" He puts his bronze winecup down onto a nearby table as he walks closer, putting his hands heavily onto her shoulders as his green eyes size her up. "Go and find them.", he concludes. After a few heartbeats, he takes his eyes off her, turns around and strides back to the firepit, a hint of disappointment in his voice."Take two men."
She straightens up, brings her fist to her chest in a well-trained gesture and responds resolutely "I shall treat this as a matter of honour.", before turning around, setting her eyes on the door.
"Oh, and Bregeswith?", his calm voice causes her to stop, turning her head. "Treat it as a matter of family.". WIth his back still to her, he raises the cup to his hand to take a sip, shaking his head.
"Yes, uncle."
