The Grey Tower

Whilst Murdock didn’t know what the Grey Tower had in store for him, there was still something other than this place which kept him focussed and, at times, was a good deterrent for doing something too troublesome. His daughters, waiting for him in Far Madding, needed him, and although he might not know what Ajah he would choose (why did he even need one? The Black Tower didn’t have Ajahs), he did know he would spend his remaining days taking care of his family in Giselle’s place. He doubted he would find a woman to replace her, but Murdock wasn’t looking for that. A bit of stability and security for the girls, that was all he needed. Like Ravak, the path towards this goal had become... complicated... by his learning to channel. At least he had people to live for still – he couldn’t imagine living for the sole purpose of killing other people. “A sentiment I think many of the trainees here share, Warder aspirants or not.” Murdock didn’t care to admit that the whole epic battle between Light and Dark was above him, and didn’t apply to him. He was solely concerned with his daughters. Telling this man that his life was not solely focussed on the Grey Tower didn’t seem the wisest idea, for Ravak was quite invested in it from what Murdock could gather.

Having only heard stories of the Borderlands, until his time at the Black Tower Murdock had simply assumed them to be exaggerated tales. Perhaps this was because it was easier than admitting that the world was closer to the Last Battle than he cared to think, but his southern way of thinking wasn’t exclusive to himself. Not really knowing how a Borderlander should look, never mind sound, the only thing Murdock had to go on was that he had some strong Saldaean blood in him, from amused conversations people had with him at the Black Tower. It wasn’t something he had ever spoken to his parents about – his father’s sharp nose and tilted eyes were curious, but they were his, and in Far Madding it was simply accepted – but perhaps he ought to look into his family history more.

Whatever the story there was, Ravak didn’t look Saldaean, and he had to take the man’s word when he said he was from the Borderlands. “Was it really as bad as they say? Trollocs around every corner, fights every other day?” It made his casual life of a city guard in Far Madding seem so trivial and light compared, but he knew that from the way the men of the north held their weapons. Murdock knew how to not stab himself in the foot but those men? They used their weapons. Really used them. Were Murdock not more interested in trying to Heal birds, he might put more effort into bettering his use of the sword himself, but he’d seen quite enough violence for one lifetime. That was why he wanted to do something else, to try and reverse the damage caused.

And yet there he was, killing birds and spreading it further. At least he had the self awareness to be at least a little ashamed of himself, but it was a means to an end.

At Ravak’s question about him actually going to the Master of Soldiers, he earned himself a look of bemusement from Murdock. “If I were twenty winters younger and scared of my own shadow, perhaps I would be making excuses.” Was Ravak doubting his integrity? “Any form of resistance would be unwise at this point and ultimately make things worse for me in the long run.” Murdock was quite matter of fact about this, though he couldn’t say he exactly relished the thought of being in trouble. It did make sense to limit just how much he would get into though, so just as he didn’t reveal anything he didn’t need to, he wouldn’t offer futile resistance. All that would happen was the punishment would be delayed in reaching him, but it would be all the more powerful for his efforts to shirk it. “Besides,” he added rather neutrally, “I can think of no good reason to not be taken there now. Can you?” He carried on his merry way towards the building where the trainees were kept, with the Master of Soldiers residing in his office figuratively and literally over them all. Being treated like a child, like many of these hapless Soldiers, grated on Murdock’s nerves, but he bore it as well as he could.

Ravak

OOC: I'm not actually sure if the MoS is in the Soldier Hall, or in the Tower proper, but I'm happy enough to hand-wave it for now I dunno if you want to wrap this up, or if Murdock wants to finagle his way out of his, or maybe see if Sean wants to take over as the Master of Soldiers.

It seemed that Ravak had no answer to Murdock's question, and he hadn't been expecting one either. What was there to say? It never occurred to the man that Ravak might want to not follow through with this. When the rules were broken, there were measures in place, why would they deviate from them? Honestly, anything else would have indebted him to the man and Murdock did not intend on owing people favours where he didn't have to.

With a roll of his shoulders in the smallest of shrugs, Murdock allowed himself to be led into the place he called home now. Living here like a, well, a soldier, with the Master of Soldiers looming above them, it wasn't something he particularly relished, and now he was traipsing through the corridors with Ravak leading just a little, it was clear to anyone with eyes that he was in trouble. Did he care what the Soldiers thought? Murdock told himself no, but there was the smallest hint of red to his cheeks, and feeling the heat caused the laconic man to walk a little stiffly, his dark eyes focused very pointedly ahead. He felt like a child all over again, and it was many years since he had felt this way. It wasn't an experience he was keen to repeat.

Instead of thinking about the trouble he was in, and how he was probably less eager to make it to the top floor than he was when they were outside the building, Murdock thought about the Blightborder instead. He might have missed Ravak gripping his weapon, but Murdock didn't miss how incredibly different the north was to Far Madding. Only the highest members of the Wall Guard were allowed to carry unbound weapons within Far Madding's walls, and those were all women. Outside the border he carried a sword, but most of the time it was a long dagger. Weapons were not the done thing, whereas the north and its many attacks sounded so incredibly violent. It felt like Murdock had been playing at being an adult all his life, and only now he was coming to realise he was a child all along. And by the Light, he so detested feeling like a child.

What else was he missing out on, with his soft southern ways? Did the likes of this bearded Warder aspirant silently scorn people like him for their upbringing?

Get a hold of yourself Murdock, he thought irritably, shaking those sad thoughts away. Far Madding was good enough before, and nothing has changed there. What happened to your spine? It seemed to falter with each step up the stairs towards the Master of Soldier's office, but he kept a good hold on it. This was the way of things, right and proper, and there was no use running away from fate. Face it head on and deal with it, that was the right and proper thing to do. With a last proper look at Ravak - their journey upwards had been silent - he allowed the Borderlander to knock and admit them into an office he tended to avoid.