Honeyed Pasture Cut off his head immediately, and stick it on a pike!

Chase raised her eyebrows, a curious glint entering her turquoise eyes as she regarded him quietly, almost as if unsure how to talk to him, how to answer him. "So you're a slave by will, I assume, to this Lord Skellige. A soldier servant, one loyal to the death," she looked at him now, carefully concealing the look of something resembling pity and sadness in her eyes, but gazed at him impassively, a feat of skill as Chase did not often hide her emotions successfully.

The boy seemed utterly emotionless, and Chase pitied him then, pitied the way he was now and how he grew up to become this mindless, emotionless zombie soldier seemingly without his own thoughts and will, commanded by cruel entities. She saw the life he led and would lead and involuntarily, her heart clenched and she lowered her head, exhaling softly. 

His abrupt question caused her to lift her head slightly, quietly observing him before shaking her head. "I wander for now. I do not serve any Lord, yet," Chase glanced at him. "What is your name?" She said, half ordering, half inquiring. Mostly ordering. There was something about him that made Chase want to save him, from himself and this Lord, but she didn't know how.