Perl
Perl blinked his eyes open to the light, then yawned and stretched. The cushions around him were nice and soft, almost to point of sinfulness. Much better than a blanket on grass and dried leaves.
Reaching up and grabbing a down-filled pillow, Perl curled around it and tried to sleep some more. He would be able to rest at bit longer today: There was no rush, and the bed... the bed was soft like a woman. Perl closed his eyes, waiting for sleep’s embrace.
And he lay there. And lay there. “Damn it...” he mumbled, pulling off the covers. He rolled his legs off the bed and sat up. Once a soldier, always a soldier, and waking up instantly was part of that. Not that his years with Sunder had been very different from the life of a soldier.
A chill breeze blew over his bare chest. He had apparently gotten changed into some sort of soft, loose pants before falling asleep, but a shirt? Perl spied one sitting on the table next to his bed. There was also an ugly dried puddle of some... stuff on the ground. Perl tried not to think about it. New day, all that.
Perl slipped the shirt on, and buttoned it. It drew a bit tight around his barrel chest, but the shirt was the a good length for him. That was all right. Standing up, he stretched, his muscles aching from the previous day's exertions. His traveling backpack was sitting where he had left it the day before, and the contents of his smaller pack were piled neatly next it. Heaped beside his personal gear were his weapons: his bare sword, knives, garrote, and assorted other tools of his trade.
“I hope they know how to clean a sheath properly,” he grumbled, picking up one of the smaller knives and trimming his beard with it. Grab, pull, cut. Grab, pull, cut. He looked down. There was a small dusting of hairs on the ground. The servants would clean that, right?
In a few minutes, Perl was done trimming his beard, and he ducked his head outside the door. There was nobody in the hallway. “Hello?” he said. There was no response. Perl pondered the time. Looking at the sun, it couldn't be past ninth toll.
Perl walked down the hallway, and tried to remember which way was the dining hall. When was the last time he had eaten? Lunch yesterday? Perl shook his head, rounded a corner, and found himself in a dead end. Lovely.
The manor was too big, he decided, as his wanderings eventually took him to the east wing’s kitchen. Shimmying past cooks at work, he follow a steaming dish out the door to the wing’s dining hall.
“Selena!” he called, squeezing around a servant. “Good to see you up early!”
“Hi Perl, I’ve been waiting for you for a while,” said the young woman, swirling a cup of tea. “Sunder wants us to go collect money from the families who got their loved ones back. Probably a good deal of asking around as to where people are. Don’t even feel like complaining, this time.”
Perl sat down, and poured himself some tea. The smell brought back memories of his father drinking tea every morning. Old memories. “Sunder’s up too?”
“We all are... we couldn’t... well, hm. In my case I couldn’t sleep well - I think it’s true of our other friends too.” She sipped from her cup. “I had such nightmares, of fleeing from...” She stopped in mid sentence, staring down into her cup. “How do you sleep after such things, Perl? How do you sleep after witnessing such sights?”
Perl sipped from his cup, then set it down. A platter of glazed ham slices and honeyed bread was placed in front of him. “Before I met Sunder, I was a soldier. I fought wars on the western borders, against the hob incursions, and later in the south, against the armies of the southern Republic. I used to have nightmares every time we fought. Nightmares from the killing and the slaughter. But in time... you grow hard to it. I watched my friends diminish in number and then those remaining grow cold on the inside.”
Perl looked down at his plate, took a deep breath and cut himself a piece of the pork. “Growing cold like that isn’t a good thing, I don’t think. You lose your heart - give it up so it won’t hurt you anymore. My old friends there... eventually they grew to be something not human on the inside. When we would lose another friend to the capriciousness of the war aspect, they wouldn’t shed a tear. They would just move on, and keep fighting. Sometimes I wondered if they stopped caring about each other, just to make the pain go away until they were killed as well.”
“They? What about you?”
Perl swallowed another piece of ham, and washed it down with wine. “I was touched by it all. I felt myself losing my soul to war, but I clung to what I could. Eventually I didn’t care when the blood of our comrades and enemies turned the dirt into mud. But I drew the line at my friends. I cared about my friends, and I did my best to protect them.” He munched on the bread, his expression growing bitter. “And they died, of course. Everyone dies.”
Swallowing the bread, Perl shook his head. “But that’s why this all doesn’t bother me much. What I saw down there was... worse than what I’ve seen before. Ever, maybe - I don’t know. And down there, I was afraid. But that’s over. We’re here now, and nobody got hurt. And that’s what I care about. Nightmares are for when something horrible happened. Nothing horrible did.”
Selena went back to sipping her tea, and Perl ate his food in silence for a few more minutes. It was the best tasting breakfast he had had in... well, since he had met Sunder, anyway.
“What about the man? The one you carried out. He died.”
Perl dropped his knife onto the dish, and leaned backwards in his chair. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Selena. Sunder would say that I did my best. But in the end, I don’t think it’s about whether you try your best or not. The end result is what matters.” He stared at his dish. The man wasn’t the first to die despite Perl’s best efforts, not even close. And then there was his sister. Sometimes he wanted to believe Sunder, believe that if he did his best, everything was alright. But no.
Selena nodded. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s...” Perl shook his head. The old soldier grimaced and shoved a slice of honeyed bread into his mouth. He shook his head while he chewed.
Selena handed her cup to a footman, and stood up. “Before I go out, I’m going to change into something more practical. You should change into something street-worthy as well. Meet you back here at tenth toll?”
Perl looked over at Selena. The young woman wore a light blue gown with silver embroidery. Perl stared for a moment. The sight was a bit incongruous in his mind - Selena was a creature of tunics and trousers and a harness of tools, yet here she was garbed in a dress, looking elegant and... beautiful. “Um... yeah. Tenth toll.”
Selena strode over to the door, her quick confident stride betraying her unladylike upbringing. Opening the door, she started to leave, then paused and turned back. “Hey Perl,” she said. “You’re right. We are all alive, and that matters more than anything else. Thanks.” Then she vanished beyond the door.
Perl sat and ate his breakfast, musing over the deaths of so many of his friends. But soon, the servants laid out a spread of breakfast desserts, and the taste of candied strawberries swept away those darker thoughts.
Next: Chapter 2