Bitter Cold Truth: A Tale of the Everburning City

Epilogue I

Samuel wasn't sure he had ever slept so well.

Certainly never before as an inspector for the Orderlies. There was a pain, just above his teeth and behind his eyes, that he had lived with for so long he had given up believing life was lived without it.

Until this morning, his second morning spent unemployed, waking up in a bed much softer than his own and watching sunlight crawl along the wall. The pain behind his eyes was gone, the bruises from his last and worst case were fading, and the only aches he felt this morning were well earned.

He rolled over as gently as he could, trying to avoid shifting the bed as he turned to look at the Angela.

Still asleep. Her breathing was deep and slow, an effect of the army's conditioning training that she hadn't given up. Her jaw twitched every dozen seconds. And every few minutes, she would kick out gently, before settling back down to rest.

Samuel idly wondered to himself when, or even if he would tell Angela that.

A smart rap on the door jerked Samuel out of his idle reprieve and brought him back into the moment with vigour. He slid out of bed, pulled on his pants, and sprinted for the door with his shirt in his hand. He managed a single sleeve before he reached the door and peeked through the small hole.

A young man, dressed smartly in the military's field uniform, was waiting as still as a statue. His eyes appeared to be staring directly at the numbers on the door, he carried a small satchel in one hand, and over his left bicep was a white band.

Samuel put his other arm through the sleeve and pushed the door open.

"Samuel Battleborn Fraser?" The young man asked.

"I am," Samuel said, opening the door wider, unsure if he should invite the young man in. "But this isn't my residence. How did you find me?"

"Captain Raeth said you'd be here," the young man said with a shrug.

"But how..."

"The Captain asks that, at your convenience, you visit him at the Riverwash Hospice. He wishes to debrief you about the Northwatch Granary Incident," the messenger explained. "Details are in the provided letter."

"Do I smell coffee?" Angela asked, from around the corner. She poked her head around the corner, hiding most of her body from view. All Samuel could see of her was covered by a white, collared shirt a fair bit too large for her.

His shirt. Samuel looked at what he was holding and realised it was neither his. The arm he had managed to push into one of the holes had almost ripped the sleeve.

"You do," the messenger said as he held up the paper bag. "Courtesy of Commander Aranhall, as an apology for dragging you on an errand. His instructions were to set the bag in a clean oil funnel, and pour two pints of boiling water through into a small pot. Ideally a teapot."

"Do I look like a mechanic? Why in the abyss would I have an oil funnel?" Angela asked.

At this news, the messenger's lips burst into a grin. "I was sent with one, just in case."

"Then thank you very much," Samuel said, relieving the young messenger of his burden. As the bag billowed slightly in his hand, the smell was almost unnaturally pleasant. The messenger saluted and turned away, and Samuel shut the door behind him.

Samuel fidgeted impatiently with the letter, the coffee and the funnel, ass he bolted the door and made his way to the kitchen. "Ang, are you boiling water?" he called out.

"Of course!"

Sam stepped into the kitchen, set the coffee down, and took a seat at the table. He broke the seal on the letter and opened it just as a kettle began to sing.