Scarred Honour (1)

"Morning, Gazef."

"Good day Gazef."

"How's your morning Gazef?"

Gazef nodded in response to all the officers' greetings, walking at a brisque pace towards his quarters. Though he kept a somewhat expressionless face on, he loathed all the officers around him- the weaklings that constantly reminded him of his failure.

After making a beeline for his room past the courtyard, he stopped to inspect his door.

"Aperta," he chanted silently, and after waiting for a moment he heard the sound of lock bolts moving before the door opened on its own. He walked in, making sure to lock the door behind him.

His room was simplistic, the mirror image of a straightforward man, or so he wanted to make himself believe. The few trinkets nailed to the walls in decoration were all past achievements, ones he was proud of at least. They ranged from old swords to simple jewelry, all spoils of war from state enemies.

{Where did I put it?} he thought to himself as he scoured through his closet.