Trent spent most of the next month in Saintcitia. Days
after he arrived he wandered the hospital like a living corpse, he had lost all
sense of time. He slept when his body could no longer stay awake and he ate
when someone brought him food and made sure that he ate it. He felt hollowed
out and lost and the only other person he wanted to talk to was in her own
private misery, mourning her lost husband, He had tried once to see her but her
room was attended by a nun who politely but sternly turned him away. He had no
way of knowing how long he had been in the hospital when during one of the
meals politely forced on him by a nun a beam of sunlight came through a
nearby high walled window and caught him. It wasn’t long after that meal that
he wandered outside for the first time. He felt the sun on his skin,
its heat beginning to iron out some of the surface level weariness in his face.
He walked around the city until the sun went down. He was up with the sun the
next day and every day after that, and the day after that.
After the first
three days he began to talk to people, he walked less and socialized more. In a
city full of healers and mystics he found that there were many opportunities
for someone more physical in stature to help out. Word spread quickly of the
ex-soldier with a desire to work. The men and women he helped were grateful for
the assistance, he was grateful for the escape.
He had finished his fourth day of working in the basement of
the Saintcitia Research Library. The ancient old man who had been managing
the library had long ago lost the ability to get up and down the stairs safely
and moving scrolls and books was low on the importance list in a city full of
wounded and dying patients. He had lost count of the crates he had moved but
the main room of the basement was easily fifty feet on a side and it was filled
wall to wall. The sun had set hours ago and
his arms and back were sore with the days of labor behind him. The nuns in the hospital seemed perfectly content to let him use the room he had woken up in
the day after he arrived in town. They had never asked him for anything, or
inquired as to when he might be leaving. Which was awfully lucky for him
because he had no clue where he was going to go or what he was going to do with
himself now that the war was over.
He had every intention of taking a hot bath and then passing
out for as long as his body would let him, his plans changed when he saw Lisa
standing at his door. She had the sword strapped to her back and she had a look
of determination.
He stopped a few feet away from her, still unsure of how to
say what he felt he needed to say. His mouth opened and closed a few times,
aborting sentences he couldn’t even formulate.
She nodded at him silently. “We need your help.” She spoke
softly but with finality. She wasn’t asking.
He felt the swell of purpose rising up in his chest. “Anything.”
He confirmed.
“Accompany me to Lidarion, All our things are there. We were
planning on living in the capital after the war ended. I can’t see myself there
without him. I will be returning to my family’s home in Dockland City.” She explained.
The second he heard her speak of the capitol he looked like
might throw up. “Anything but that.” He forced the words out of his mouth.
The determination in her eyes vaporized and she looked like
she might blow apart in a slight breeze. “I can’t go alone Trent…please.” She asked the final time.
His shoulders slumped and nodded slowly. “When do you want
to leave?” He asked.
