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Gryffen sighed.
He lay awake, again, staring up at the barracks' ceiling. Around him he could hear the soft rhythmic breathing of his brothers while they slept. He sighed again.
It seemed like hours since he'd heard the nightwatch pass by on their rounds, tending the flames of the night torches for the final time. No doubt, it was some ungodly hour by now. A strange expression, come to think of it. An ungodly hour. Could such a thing exist?
You need to have a goal; some purpose to what you do. His mentor's words replayed in his mind, not for the first time. Why is it that you serve?
The answer that had come so readily to his lips and with such sincerity back then, now seemed a child's response to an adult's question. "To help others." He repeated his earlier answer to the shadow-darkened ceiling, a wry twist to his mouth as he shook his head. Was that enough? He could have chosen many other paths in order to help people - a healer, an apothecary, a priest, courier, servant or baker - yet here he was, a soldier in loyal service to Torm the True. What was it he could do through service to Torm that he couldn't find in another role?
He sighed again and for a long time after continued to lie there, eyes open, searching the darkness for even the smallest glimmer to shed some light on his purpose.
It would not be the last time he searched for a ray of hope within the darkness.
He lay awake, again, staring up at the barracks' ceiling. Around him he could hear the soft rhythmic breathing of his brothers while they slept. He sighed again.
It seemed like hours since he'd heard the nightwatch pass by on their rounds, tending the flames of the night torches for the final time. No doubt, it was some ungodly hour by now. A strange expression, come to think of it. An ungodly hour. Could such a thing exist?
You need to have a goal; some purpose to what you do. His mentor's words replayed in his mind, not for the first time. Why is it that you serve?
The answer that had come so readily to his lips and with such sincerity back then, now seemed a child's response to an adult's question. "To help others." He repeated his earlier answer to the shadow-darkened ceiling, a wry twist to his mouth as he shook his head. Was that enough? He could have chosen many other paths in order to help people - a healer, an apothecary, a priest, courier, servant or baker - yet here he was, a soldier in loyal service to Torm the True. What was it he could do through service to Torm that he couldn't find in another role?
He sighed again and for a long time after continued to lie there, eyes open, searching the darkness for even the smallest glimmer to shed some light on his purpose.
It would not be the last time he searched for a ray of hope within the darkness.