The polished heavy armour created dancing reflections on the walls of the empty attic. The huge orc stood in silence just watching the book in his hands.
The book. It was supposed to have given him the missing piece of the puzzle, the final clues to figuring out what was going on. Instead he had found only strange glyphs and ripped out pages. His muscular jaw was shut tight. Sweat had formed from the ride here - athletic though he was, a whole night’s hard riding was no simple task.
He threw the book on the floor and looked at it for a second before slowly picking it up again and placing it back into the chest where he found it. He took out the other item from within and studied its feathery engravings a bit before placing it in his backpack. Closing the lid, he placed the now broken lock on top of the chest, then with a sigh he left the attic and went down to the main floor of the manor.
His orc father spoke softly as he approached.
Did you find what you were seeking?
- No, nothing, except more questions.
He turned to the door when his mother interjected.
You are not leaving, are you?
- I am. I have to get back to the army camp. I was not exactly given leave and I need to make it back before… they reprimand me, or worse, my company. I.. I see. Please take care, and come back when you can. It has been so long since we talked.
On his ride back he prayed. It had been a long time since he had last done that. While he was not devout, he was still, like most inhabitants in Golarion, a believer in the Gods. He prayed for guidance as well as forgiveness.
Forgiveness for shirking his duties to his men - his deities’ edicts were those of protection, of defending others, which left little arguing on his part that he had done them wrong.
But mostly he prayed that a battle had not been called. He knew that he was not only the lynchpin of many of the strategies they had been practicing - not surprising considering his prowess with the shield - but he was also one whom the others listened to, and looked up to. What would they think when they awoke in the morning and he was gone without a word? Would they think that he had abandoned them, now, when battle was a part of their days?
They would never forgive him.
He wanted to ride harder, to press his mount even beyond what it was be capable of. Any other night the beast may have complied, but the moon provided scant light for a horse to navigate.