Almost an hour after entering it, Melody emerged from the conflagration that once was the barbarian clan's village, [url=https://i.imgur.com/T65GHIC.jpg?1]her face tattoos[/url] almost imperceptible beneath the soot and ash that the on again, off again sprinkles had smudged upon her skin.  A dozen men and twice as many women were either following her or waiting for her at the community's edge; they'd pillaged the buildings not afire or risked entering those that had been to salvage as many items of value as they could. 

"Take it all to the tent, Kapiten" she instructed her senior military officer as he arrived. "I'll be in my tent, which I assume is standing...?"

"It is, m'lady," the man named Broon acknowledged. "It will still be some time before the fire is--"

She waved off the remainder of his news and gestured him back to his duties. The Captain passed Melody's instructions to the others, directing them to a large tent that was just moments away from being fully erect and secured.  Broon gave sharp glares to those pillagers who might be contemplating keeping the more valuable items for themselves. 

Unlike many cultures where battlefield [i]loot[/i] was kept by he or she who'd discovered it, Clan Yalla was well disciplined to deliver every coin, cloak, candlestick, and chamber pot to a specified location for disbursing by Melody herself. The division of the spoils would have to wait, though; the smoke and soot were becoming annoying, and all Melody wanted was to strip out of her filthy field clothes and wash herself clean.

"[i]M'lady![/i]" an older woman, Haanya, called out with surprise when she saw Melody enter the tent. She rushed from the crackling, still growing fire assist her Mistress out of her weapons belt, cloak, leather armor, and layers of outer and inner clothing, all the time chastising her quietly for walking into the burning village. "You are the Lady, m'lady. You have people to do these dangerous things. Why you go into fire and get your clothes dirty and face dirty and hands dirty and..."

Melody had ceased listening to the old woman long ago, having heard it all before.  [i]The Lady[/i] as Haanya had called her had never been a stand back and watch the action type of leader. Sure, she hadn't engaged directly in today's fighting, but that was only because she'd hoped there wouldn't be any. More often than not, the leader of Clan Yalla was right in the violent mix of things, as the dozen or so scars gracing her body from the back of her neck to her belly to both arms and her left leg would attest. Haanya -- who because of her age and years of service to Melody -- felt far more comfortable with chastising her Mistress than did the typical slave, and one of her more often spoken complaints was that the 20 year old woman was far too young -- and beautiful -- a woman to be displaying so much [i]dëme të shëmtuara[/i] -- ugly damage -- on display when she undressed for a bath ... or for a man.

"Men like scars," Melody told the woman for the umpteenth time when again she got [i]dressed down[/i] while literally dressing down for a bath. "They are a measurement of life experiences."

Haanya guffawed: "[i]On another man[/i], yes, m'lady; not on a woman. You should be sitting in an elegant chair wearing satin and jewels while men kneel before you, laying gold and silver at your feet in the hopes of seeing your [i]unscarred[/i] body naked in the marital bed he hopes to share with you upon your wedding night, not riding a horse into battles for which you have men who will gladly give their lives for you."

Melody laughed loudly, moving across to the wood cask tub into which three slave girls had been dumping pitchers of hot water. She ran a hand across the surface, finding its temperature perfect. As she stepped carefully into the almost too hot water, she said to Haanya yet again, "Those men of whom you speak, the ones who will [i]gladly[/i] give their lives for me ... how long would they continue to do so if I did not show them that I, too, was willing to give my life for them?"

As the woman better than twice Melody's age began a long, rapid rant in her first language, she moved to behind her Mistress and began the time-consuming task of loosing her small-of-the-back length hair from its braids until finally it was fully freed.  Melody only laid back into the water and let the heat envelope her.  Haanya delivered a platter of cut up meats, cheeses, fruits, and more to a little table to her Mistress's left; she put a large glass of thick red wine on the matching but oppositely place table.

"Call the Kapiten, please, Haanya," she said as her head fell back and her eyes closed; the steaming water was already having the expected effect. The slave woman did as told, and Broon arrived shortly thereafter; he saluted with his head bob and fist to his armored chest, showing no reaction to clearly being able to see his Lady's dark, pert nipples just barely above the already dirty water. "That slave you put to work..."

"Yes, m'lady," he confirmed recalling which man about whom she spoke. "He is gathering wood for your fire."

"Bring him to me," she instructed. "I wish to talk to him."

The Captain only stared for a moment. Only now -- and just for a brief moment before again looking up -- did he let his gaze fall conspicuously to her display of womanly perfection: "[i]Now[/i], m'lady? Would you like to finish your--"

"[i]Now[/i], Captain," Melody insisted. "And ... I need you to do something else for me, too."

She gave Broon his second instruction and the man departed. Melody slipped down beneath the water's surface, ran her hands through her hair as it [i]floated[/i] in the water, then lifted her head above the surface and smoothed it back away from her face. A guard entered, followed by the Sedent barbarian and yet another guard. Melody had returned to her previous position; once again, the brown nubs decorating her firm, young round breasts were visible just above the gently moving water.

A moment later, the Captain returned as well; he manhandled an uncooperative yet obviously frightened Sedent girl of perhaps 6 years of age off to one side of the tent. Melody looked to the two guards and said, "You may leave. But first ... unshackle my newest slave."

They didn't move, but when their Mistress repeated her orders and threatened the removal of their [i]left nuts[/i] if they didn't obey, they each hurried to get the shackles off the man before hurrying out of the tent.  Melody gave the barbarian a slow, up and down survey, then said to him in a polite tone, "Take your clothes off. I want to see all that I will be selling at the slave market come Full Moon."

He didn't seem to enthusiastic to do as Melody requested, so she glanced Broon's way.  The Captain pulled his knife and held it tightly against the little girl's neek.  Melody said with a soft, almost loving tone, "Please."