into battle

Prompt: Write your entry in the Military genre.
Word count: 674

***

Taking a deep breath, she softly wrapped her knuckles on the door. When there was no response, she took another deep, purposeful breath and knocked louder. There was still no response. She exhaled loudly through her nose in frustration and crossed her arms, turning her back on the door to leave before coming to an abrupt halt. Biting her lip, she leaned forward and moved her head from side to side, scanning the hallway. Seeing it deserted, she slowly backed towards the door and reached her hand behind her to turn the knob. It turned easily. Cautiously, she opened the door just enough to sneak her petite frame through and gently shut it behind her.

The soles of her boots clicked against the tiles of floor, echoing in the large space. She started at the large dresser, her hands hovering over the handles to the top drawer of the rich mahogany armoire. She bit her lower lip and stared at her hands on the drawer before finally pulling it open. Inside were tunics, neatly folded. The other two drawers were more of the same, with various stockings and trousers folded and tidily stashed away in the drawer. She opened the doors to find more formal attire hanging neatly. She ran her fingers over the dark, sturdy fabric of the uniform coat, her thumb passing over the marvelous gold buttons on the cuff. Dark boots sat at the bottom of the armoire, clean and shiny, all traces of mud polished away.

She moved passed the dry sink where a comb and folded towel sat next to large bowl of clean water, covering the peripherals of her eyes to avoid seeing herself in the mirror that hung above. She knelt in front of the trunk that sat at the foot of the wrinkle-less, tightly made bed, the corners of the thin sheets precisely folded and tucked under the mattress. She opened the trunk gingerly, revealing the delicately organized contents. Chainmail lay at the bottom next to a sharpening stone. Placed on top were several swords and daggers. She pulled one from its place and slowly began to remove it from its sheath, her reflection shining back at her in the beautifully polished metal. When she had it fully removed, it slid apart revealing that it was not one sword, but two halves. She took one in each hand, testing the weight of them. She twirled the half in her right hand skillfully while awkwardly holding the other in her left before sheathing the weapons and slipping them back in their proper place in the trunk. As she began to close the trunk, she stopped suddenly, reached her hand back inside, and pulled out a braided lock of hair. She pressed her lips together and tilted her head to the side as she ran her index finger over the soft, dark tresses. Taking a deep breath, she set the braid back in the trunk and closed it, and stood to leave. Her eyes widened as she turned to see a man standing in the doorway. Quickly, she reset her face to an impassive expression.

"We need to talk," she said.

He stood, still leaning against the door frame, eyes staring into hers.

"You cannot just ignore me," she said, raising her voice slightly.

Finally, he took his eyes off her as he removed his tunic and threw it over the back of a chair. His torso glistened with a thin layer of perspiration, matching the sweat that collected on the back of his neck and at his temples. He reached his hands into the bowl of water, splashed his face and dried it with the towel. He neatly refolded the towel and placed it back beside the bowl.

Still shirtless, he brushed by her and opened the trunk, his hands running over the contents and moving them back into place.

"How long had you been standing there?" she asked quietly.

He shut the trunk and stared into her eyes again. She diverted her gaze from his and walked towards the door, stopping when she reached the threshold.

"I cannot believe you kept that," she said, tugging at the ends of her long, dark hair with her fingers.

"I never go into battle without it," he answered without looking up.