Olivier de Bretagne (
equal_of_any_man) wrote in
milliways_bar2014-02-05 08:47 pm
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A young crusader walks into the bar, looking care-worn and shell-shocked. He orders a large hot chocolate and curls up in the corner, hugging the mug for its warmth. He closes his eyes and focuses on remembering how to breathe. He’s a least a couple of years older than he was last time anyone in the bar has seen him.
Feel free to bother him; he could do with the company.
Feel free to bother him; he could do with the company.

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But he does look up and notice the young man, and nods to him.
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"I have seen you before, I think: - but you were much different," he says. "And yes, gladly -- thank you."
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Pause.
"Welcome back, Olivier!"
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He bows a little roughly, his hands still shaking a little. "Thank you. How fair your cats?"
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He understands changing your name, and lets it pass without a blink.
"You joined an army?"
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"It's hard", Gavroche says quietly. "But you lived through it."
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"The defenseless." It's still quiet, but with an edge of anger. "That's not right."
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She takes a seat next to him, ordering a mug of mint tea. She's not about to insult him by ordering something alcoholic and in his state she doesn't trust that he'd go overboard even if his religion allowed it.
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"First time in combat?" She doesn't mind the forced smile: it's when a person is dead of any expression that she would worry.
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"It's a common thing, unfortunately. Attacking baggage trains, supply routes-all are ways to weaken an oncoming army without putting ones own men at risk. It's something you have to keep watch for."
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He shakes his head, trying to keep his voice level and failing. "No. No, it is a terrible thing. Only a dishonourable enemy would attack the women and the young." It's the first time he's seen it happen and his faith in honour is deeply shaken.
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Sonya shook her head, her hand taking hold of her own tea. "If there's one thing I know about war, it's that it's never truly 'honorable'-good men are killed, so are innocents, all the weaken the morale of the enemy or their strength. The only real honor is what you have inside: for your fellow soldiers, for those you serve under and defend-everything else is just reality."
She smiled, though it was hard to tell if it was from past memories or just what she was talking of.
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He nods, letting her words sink in along with the horrors of all he had seen this day. "My friend, Hugh. They killed him. So I... I took up his sword..." He puts the mug down, his hands shaking too hard now. "He was a good man and a good friend."
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