11.05.08 What you're made of
Oh boy. Tests. This'll be fun then, Iggy thought wearily. The young guardsman stood obediently and automatically at attention, eyes forward and fixed on nothing, just waiting. Nobody had told him what this was for, who would be doing it, or, for that matter, where he was, but that was just standard, eh? "Ask not why, just do." "A good soldier obeys without question." And it wasn't like the answers mattered anyway.
Someone wants to know what you're made of. Hopefully it was a metaphorical question, something about testing his mettle, like the interview his Inquisitor had given him before accepting him into the retinue. If it was a literal question this was probably going to hurt a lot and he may or may not have a right to fight back.
Oh well. As long as they got it done with quick, eh? Preferably before he passed out from standing at attention too long... unless it was literal. They could wait until he passed out for that.
Someone wants to know what you're made of. Hopefully it was a metaphorical question, something about testing his mettle, like the interview his Inquisitor had given him before accepting him into the retinue. If it was a literal question this was probably going to hurt a lot and he may or may not have a right to fight back.
Oh well. As long as they got it done with quick, eh? Preferably before he passed out from standing at attention too long... unless it was literal. They could wait until he passed out for that.