Warbands 2

Jernar squinted to watch the bretonnian fly into the sunlight. The sheer numbers one man had taken out were baffling. He turned to see the few hired hands he had left collecting themselves and looting bodies. Brogan sat nearby on a rock, drinking heavily from his wine skin.
On his other side sat the few bretonnian survivors. All beaten and tied together, their heads hung low, some crying, some praying. But one glared straight at him. A boy, no more than twenty years. His tabard was of finer make than the rest, and he wore armor. Odd, he thought.
"You," Jernar pointed him out as he walked nearer. "what is your name boy?"
The boy hesitated. "Dawes," he said, " Jeffery Dawes."
"Mister Dawes, it seems to me your master has left you for dead. I should suspect by your attire, you now lead these men. What were you? A page? Noble's son?"
The boy's expression turned to confusion and he shook his head. "Squire."
"A squire indeed," Jernar laughed, crouching down by the prisoners. "and with no noble blood to speak of? Bretonnia cant have changed that much since i've been away." He stood to address the rest of the defeated. "Your master has left you to die, but i find myself in need of men. If i remember the bretonnian way, i'd wager you were taxed into this, and then indebted to your lord until death. Should you serve me, I will be the one paying you. You would owe me nothing but your loyalty, and should you wish to walk away, god save you in the wilderness. This is my offer." he turned again to Jeffery, "What say you?"