Henry of Skalitz

Sleeplessness was a curse and a blessing. It bled into every waking second, turning the world sluggish, like mud pulling on his legs. It was fine. It blunted the edges of the pain the nightmares kept dragging up to the light: the mud and the blood, the calculating eyes set in a bald man’s face, the light receding from Ma and Pa as they fell. Over and over again, whenever Henry closed his eyes.

The burning husk of Silver Skalitz.

So it was better, Henry reflected, that he were not to close them. That helped him haul himself through his first guard shift: the time spent taking care of minor disputes, patrolling pointlessly across the cobbled streets, trying not to be bothered by the sight of his fellow Skalitzmen and women begging on the street, watching them be judged and shoved around. Rattay was so much bigger than Skalitz had ever been, with its large houses and well-dressed burghers, and yet: there was nothing in him that could muster the wonder he would have once felt.

Then his guide - Nightingale, the guardsman was called, that was it, it was so hard to hold on to anything - called it good for the day.

They played dice. How many groschen he’d won or lost? Hard to say. Perhaps it didn't matter.

( Just one more thing and we're done for the day... )

[[ nfb/nfi/ooc-ok/and so on. adapted from the game Kingdom Come: Deliverance (2018) by Warhorse Studios. ]]