Women did not belong in war. Mothers and wives and daughters had no place, until they were caught by soldiers, who tame the screaming and crying and fighting, with a pillow over their face and their backs on cot. General Acacius did not care for this part of battle. Mostly because he did not care to bed with anyone but his wife, but also because he did not want the women under him to be crying and kicking.

A few women were captured to be cooks, and to keep the camps tidy, to keep his men satisfied. He recognized the shriek of one of them and a shuffling with a soldiers voice outside near the fires, and he got off his rug. "What is going on?" Marcus’ voices booms with power dripping from it.

The young soldier huffs, holding this young lady’s arm as she teared up, scrunching from him. "Bitch won’t follow orders," The man snarls.

The General Marcus Acacius narrowed his eyes, making a gesture to drop her, watching her grab her wrist, shrink behind. "You dare to think you give orders? When she is cooking your meals and cleaning up your messes?" Acacius says firmly. "Go, leave her."