Garkhen headed in the direction indicated, looking about as he did so. Soon he found what he sought—two pairs of tongs, suited for helping him not burn his hands as he retrieved the pots. The elf snorted as Garkhen returned.
“I suppose you’re not an idiot, either. The number of recruits who have burned themselves following that order…” Lieutenant Ailill shook his head.
The Lieutenant kept his new subordinate quite busy the rest of the day with all manner of menial tasks. Once or twice Garkhen assisted him in changing some bandages, but in truth there were few patients, and only one or two new ones. From what the new Private could gather, the company was currently just training, waiting for orders from the army they were working for to move out.
However, that did not keep Ailill from finding an endless list of tasks for the half-dragon to complete. Somehow, there was always something more to do, but Garkhen did it all without complaint. Sometimes he thought his superior was pleased by this, and sometimes he felt the elf was trying to anger him, but Garkhen preferred to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Lieutenant Ailill finally released the half-dragon when the sun was almost entirely below the horizon. Another Private led him to a small tent that was to be his during his time in Telarnen’s Band. There was nothing in it but some straw covered by a rough blanket. Garkhen supposed this was meant for sleeping upon, and truly he was tired, though not so fatigued as he often had been after a day of training under Solkh’Tolkharkha. Soon he had removed his armor and lay down upon the straw. It was comfortable enough, he supposed, and was soon asleep.
The next week was much like the first day had been, though Lt. Ailill slowly trusted Garkhen more with the actual work of caring for the sick and wounded. Still, he had not used any magic despite the symbol marking him as a priest, and so Garkhen also refrained from calling upon Bahamut. And in truth, the injuries sustained during training were minor enough that it would have seemed inappropriate to do so.
The time did give Garkhen an opportunity to learn about the company to which he had been joined, and the conflict in which they were enlisted. Apparently, while Telarnen’s Band (as it seemed to be unofficially called) was a mercenary group in name, in truth the Captain only accepted contracts for conflicts he deemed just. The half-dragon still disliked the idea of mercenary work, but if such was his lot, he supposed this was better than most alternatives.
Oddly, Garkhen could learn little about the war they were to fight in. He did learn they were in the nation of Ferdunan, in the northwest of the Southern Continent of Draezoln. It was a monarchy, but one in which power was shared with the noble class. Apparently the nation had recently had the misfortune of being under a number of rather inept monarchs, and the more power-hungry nobles had taken advantage of the opportunity to rise up against him.
Garkhen was just starting to feel slightly at home when the word came for them to move out. They had been ordered to the front.
In case you’re wondering, Garkhen was accustomed until now to sleeping on stone. Half-dragon/half-dwarves can put up with that, though they don’t enjoy it as much as a full dragon.