The scream echoed down the stone halls, but the guard that hit her paid it no mind. Reaching down, he grabbed her. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, unrelenting in their grip, and he hauled her up but that alone, all her weight supported there. There was no interest in if she was bruised or marked, only that she relieve herself of he weapon she had no right to.

[Our God has not given you permission to arm yourself, slave] he snarled. His voice was rough and metallic from under the helm, but ragged with weariness. How dare this slave show his God disrespect by assuming she was allowed this luxury, that his eyes weren't everywhere. She had waited until he was gone to help herself, but he and all others like him were always mindful, always watching.

The other guard remained standing, neither helping his companion or stopping him when his hand darted to retrieve the blade from her.