C support
Camp was decidedly different after a battle had been fought, when unnamed soldiers retired to their tents or chatted around a fire or were just people. And as day pushed into night, with the sun dipping to sleep and the moon rising overhead, more and more of them disappeared into their tents, resting for another early battle the next day. But not Sothe. He was crouched behind a tree, skinning the bark off a fallen branch with his knife. It was a waste of a good weapon, but there was nothing else to do while he was buying time.
A pretty red-haired soldier was shouting on the other side of the tree—maybe lecturing, or being stern, something like that—and it felt like forever until she finally went away. Sothe peered around the tree, careful not to make any sudden moves, and watched as the red-haired lady disappeared, stomping her feet. He smiled as he snaked around the trunk. He was now face-to-face with that lazy old man with the eyepatch, who was leaned against the other side of the tree, sleeping as always.
Sothe almost felt guilty for what he was about to do, but it was the natural order of things—those who don't have, take, and those who do have should freely give. And what did the old man need with all that gold, anyway? He didn't look rich or anything, but it was obvious that he didn't live in the slums. Sothe didn't know much, but he knew that. And anyone who was set higher on the social ladder was game.
The guy was asking for it, anyway, sleeping with his wallet hanging from his waist. Probably thought it was safe or something, attaching it to his belt, but it was a laugh to any experienced thief. Sothe studied the guy's face for signs of movement as his fingers worked at the rope, quickly and quietly unknotting it. He didn't want much. Just a couple gold pieces, and if he needed more, the guy was sure to be sleeping oblivious the next day, too.
The old guy went on snoring like nothing happened. Sothe knotted up the coin purse before slipping behind the tree. He allowed himself a deep breath as he dropped the two gold coins into his pocket.
"That wasn't very nice," a voice drawled. Sothe couldn't help himself—he yelped, clamping a hand over his mouth. Stupid! "I know you're still there," he said through a yawn. Well he couldn't run now. He was good, but he wasn't that good to escape unnoticed at this point. So he stood motionless in his spot instead, hoping the guy would stop talking. But somehow he knew he wouldn't be that lucky. "You know," the old guy said, "you could've just asked if you wanted something. We all trust one another here, right? You don't have to do that."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Sothe hadn't intended to answer but he almost felt bad for the guy, sitting there like he was talking to himself.
"No? Fine." Sothe could see his arms stretch into a V over the sides of the trunk and heard an elaborate yawn, like the low of a cow. "I see how it is. Oh well." There was a clatter of armor as the guy stood up, but he didn't come around. "I'm Haar," he said.
Sothe crouched again out of instinct, like the guy wouldn't be able to see him if he was closer to the ground. If he was going to turn around at all. "Sothe," he answered.
"Well. Good night, Sothe." He listened for the slow tread of footsteps, disappearing in the direction of camp. What the heck is with that guy? he thought, jingling the coins in his pocket.