Othmar towers over the girl, obscuring all else from Siegfried’s view. Uncertainty clouds his features; he anticipates immediate punishment.

“Move.”

Othmar moves. Petra looks back over her shoulder at her captor. Her face is bloody, her right eye emerging with black. Her mouth is swollen and bruises darken along her arms which are once more bound behind her. Siegfried stops. The sight startles him, but he hides this well. He turns his back on her, returns to Othmar.
“There was no need to beat her.”
The other man balks. “You saw what she did! What choice did I have?”
“What choice?" Incensed, Siegfried takes two heavy steps towards his subordinate. “Not only are you stupid, you are incompetent. I told you to listen for trouble. Your idiot ears weren’t able to discern the sound of a flint?”

Othmar backs himself against the wall.
“Great damages have been inflicted on our treasury because of you, Othmar.”
“Me? It is because of her!”
Siegfried grabs Othmar roughly by his shirt.
“She is only a girl. You are a knight from the garrison who is taller, stronger, who carries a very big sword on his hip, who has every advantage except, one must suspect, a greater will to live.”
“Forgive me, lord steward,” Othmar pleads, noticing Siegfried pawing for his dagger.
“Get out,” Siegfried orders, letting go.

Soon the room is silent save for Siegfried’s heavy breathing as he tries to bring himself back into himself. He meets the pairs of eyes that are waiting for him.