Today, I decided to do something different. In a few more day's, my new crossbow would be finished (probably), and for a while, it would be my focus. That meant I would lose out on practice with my new sword (which was incredibly fun).

  So, as I got up this morning, I didn't hesitate. I rushed to get up this morning, and grabbed something light to eat, get a drink, use the bathroom, and put on my armor.

  As I rushed through the house, I reflected on the past 3 and a half weeks. Everything was so... different, but the same. Everyone was less... happy, more withdrawn. The few times I had the chance to go see Tomas's family... it was just... worse. Tomas had two siblings. An older brother, at 22, and a younger sister at 13. They were... pale. They had bags under their eyes, which indicated that something was off.

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  The shadow of godfathers death was... it was still haunting us all, and probably would for a while yet. We, that is my family and I, were less effected by now. The grief was gone, now just a sadness and longing.

  See, we generally expected death. When we go to battle, at least in the old day's, it used to be bloodline against bloodline. Grudges were deep back then, mom had said, and prisoners weren't taken. This left us, even today, with a... different attitude, shall I say. But... maybe I could help a bit...

  Putting on my armor by myself, while possible, is difficult. For humans, it would be a near impossibility. For one, brigandine was, compared to plate, easier to put on. Two, I was very flexible due to, well, being what I am. But even still, it was time consuming.

  Twenty minutes later, I had finished strapping on every bit of steel. I grabbed my helmet, got my belt and scabbard (plus knife sheaths), and rushed out the door. I had a great idea, and whether or not they knew it, my volunteers were going to be more like conscripts.