62. Burned

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Over the next few days Ayla was busy planning the reconstruction of everything that had been destroyed. There were a hundred things to discuss with the villagers: How big the church should be, since the village population had grown since its foundation, where to put the smithy, for fear of a fire breaking out, and, and, and.

Ayla soon found that her intention of rebuilding everything just the way it had been was impractical. Rebuilding everything better than it had been was a much more rewarding idea. It would mean that out of all this destruction, there would at least come some good.

She even contemplated building a road between the village and the castle. Not just a dirt or gravel path, but a real road, made out of cobblestones. It would be a costly endeavor, no doubt, but it would mean quicker and easier passage from the village to the castle, more trade in the area, and something for her people to be especially proud of, as they worked together in rebuilding their lives.

While she was busy looking after her people, Reuben took care of the few enemy mercenaries whom they had taken prisoner in the last battle. The six of them went into a room with him and were shut up there for about an hour.

Ayla didn't know what exactly Reuben said or did, but at the end of the hour, of the six, only five mercenaries left the room, all of whom were suddenly very eager to join Lady Ayla's service. Pay? Why would they expect pay? No, it would be a great honor to serve such a great lady as her, if only she please, please, please didn't punish them, please!

"What did you do to them?" she whispered to Reuben.

"Me?" he asked, innocently. "Why would you think that I did anything?"

Ayla chose to let it go. She had plenty of other matters to occupy her attention. Three days after the destruction of the enemy army, her men were finished with clearing out the enemy camp. They had found nobody there, save a few stable lads and their charges.

The lads were more than ready to enter into Lady Ayla's service without having to be locked in a room with Reuben first. They were mostly orphans, whom the mercenary army had picked up and pressed into service for no pay at all. Their hollow cheeks and bony frames told a sad story that Ayla was more than glad to put an end to. She had given them into Burchard's charge. When the steward had protested, saying that that was work for kitchen staff, she had replied: "No arguments! Judging from the way you've tried to fill me up during the siege, you seem to be an expert in stuffing people full of food! So you can start right away with those boys!"

He had grumbled and complained some more, but she thought the way his mustache had twitched might have been a smile.

Ayla hadn't been so sure about what to do with the enemy horses, though.

"Maybe we should send them back to the Margrave," she had suggested.

Reuben had looked at her as though she had lost her mind. "This man intended to take everything you have and make you his slave in all but name, and you want to send his horses back? Maybe with a complementary note and a few flowers?"

A blush rose to Ayla's cheeks. "I'm not in the habbit of robbing other people of their property, like some people I know!" She snapped at him.

A grin spread over his face. "Is that supposed to refer to me, Milady?"

"How did you guess?"

"Oh, you're feisty today. Well, let me tell you, this isn't robbing someone. It's spoils of war. By right of victory you are entitled to keep anything your foe has left behind. Besides... have a look."

Striding to one of the horses, Reuben opened the animal's mouth. It jerked back, as if expecting an attack.

"Steady, girl, steady. I won't harm you. Just open your mouth a little bit wider... there! You see?"

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