Meia sat up, clutched her legs and buried her face in her sleeves. A low beeping sound was in her thoughts. Perhaps a quarter of an hour passed like this. She could not tell for sure. The longcase clock was broken and only ticked on the spot and the alarm clock had disappeared.
All of a sudden she heard footsteps. Several people came running up the stairs. It sounded like heavy footwear. There was a metallic clatter beneath the footsteps. It was the sound of full weapon belts. She stared at the door. The footsteps stopped right there. Her breath quickened. The handle lowered. She gripped tightly into the fabric of her pants.
The door opened. But stuck after a crack on the porcelain shards.
The person tried to jerk it open, but then it got stuck completely.
"It won't open."
"Go up. I'll handle this."
"Understood!"
Meia heard two people starting to run off. Directly afterwards, a hand reached through the gap, grabbed the thick board and started to push the door open. The shards scraped across the stone. The porcelain cracked and wedged itself firmly under the wood. Tiny splinters burst off. The shards offered all the resistance they could muster and became more and more the further the door opened, but the only thing that changed was that the upper part of the door bent. The person was strong enough that the shards could not slow it down.
A man with a greasy haircut became visible behind the board and the door opened at the speed he came into the room. The man wore carpenter's trousers and a whitish sailor's shirt. On his weapon belt hung a falchion without a scabbard. His shoulders were so broad that he barely fit through the door, and his head so high that he had to duck. He spotted Meia immediately. Shards of glass crunched under his black leather boots. A shadow of white light reflected off the silver blade and scattered into countless coloured sparks through each of the shards it struck. Little spots of rainbow fell all the way under the table. The floor beneath his feet was a shimmering sea of shards. The man had a presence that silenced the noise and a demeanour as if he owned the room.
Meia stared at the man and he stared back at her. It had been like that since he had come into the room. Before he came to the table, he casually threw the cover with one hand onto the floor. Then Meia had only two zips and the falchion in view. On the sword was a striking decoration of light blue metal. It was sinuous lines that looked like waves, but it was meant to represent something else. This man was not a sailor. Meia knew exactly who he was. Otherwise she would most likely not have remained so still.
With one hand the man took the table aside, then picked Meia up from the floor like a baby, put her on the mattress and went down on one knee in front of her.
"Your leg is injured. Do you have any other injuries?", " Are you in any pain?", "Can I get you anything?"
The man asked many such questions, but Meia barely understood him. Each of his words rushed and rattled in her ears, like small stones in the drainpipe of a gutter. In the end, all that remained was a loud beeping. Had her hearing been damaged? Would it heal? Suddenly the man brushed her trouser leg up to well above her knee. Out of reflex, Meia squeezed her thighs together and was about to back away, when she realised that he probably just wanted to look at her leg. At the same moment she noticed something else.
"It's just a little scraped up. It'll be fine with the right plaster," he explained, followed by a sigh as if relieved, then he stood up and as he walked to the cupboard he continued, "And don't worry about that. I've wet my pants over less.".
Meia was still embarrassed, even if it seemed like he really didn't care. She lifted her shirt forward so he would see it less. She then looked at her knee. It was slightly scraped and bleeding a little. It was harmless. It had probably happened when she had thrown herself on the floor.
All at once the door creaked and the beeping in her ears became louder. The man lifted the door completely off its hinges and placed it next to the longcase clock. He did it as if it were nothing. Yet the individual planks were almost beams. Next he retrieved a black box from the top of the cupboard. Meia did not even know that there was anything there.
When he got back, it turned out to be a first aid kit. Meia got a saucer-sized plaster on her knee.
"In the quarters, the first-aid kits are always on the cupboards. In the bathrooms and in the hallways they are on the wall. Don't you know that? Surely you were told that once?"
Meia did not answer. She was still too distraught. Maybe she should already know. She no longer knew. On the first day, knowledge was poured all over her.
"I'll take you to the great hall. We'll do a head count. I suppose you want to put some clothes on first?"
"The hall is intact?"
"Only the rear part of the palace was hit."
"Should I have run away?"
"Hmm, No, it is more dangerous to be hit by falling objects than for the tower to collapse. The palace and all city walls have a steel core. It was not wrong to stay under the table."
Again Meia understood only half and had to think the rest.
"I can't hear good."
The man was about to go back to the cupboard, but Immediately came back to her.
"How exactly, do you mean that? Can you describe it?"
"Everything you say is with noise and there's always a beeping sound."
"Is it in both ears?"
"Yes."
The man cast a thoughtful glance at the window and then looked at the shards.
"Did you have your mouth closed?"
~Is that important?~
"I don't know."
The man stood up again and patted her on the head with one hand to cheer her up, as if she were a dog.
"You'll be all right. I'll take you to a doctor."
Meia wanted to get up to get some fresh clothes, but the man held her down by the shoulder and insisted she stay seated. He went to her wardrobe himself. He did not ask first. He just asked her what she wanted him to bring.
Meia wanted a pair of trousers. She would forego underwear because of the situation. It certainly would not take that long to be let go afterwards.
"Do you need help changing?" the man asked, putting her trousers on the bed. He did not seem as if he cared about getting to look at her. He sounded more concerned.
"No. I can manage."
"Good, I'll stay out by the door until then."
"Wa-wait a minute!"
"Do you need anything else?"
"You're Francis Monet of the Kingsguard?"
"Yes, that's me. Is there anything in particular you want from me?"
"I..." ~I know your nephew?~ Meia did not know what she wanted from him either. "Thank you."
"I accept your thanks, but I don't deserve it. I'll wait outside."
~Why not?~
"What about the pirates?"
Mr Monet stopped short, glanced over his shoulder at her, then continued.
"They got away..." he squeezed through his teeth on the way out.
While Mr Monet waited outside the open door, Meia slipped in record speed and while lying on her back from one pair of pants into another. She then crumpled up the wet ones so that they looked dry. After she had done so, she wanted to get up, but when Mr Monet noticed this, he immediately came into the room and again asked her to remain seated. He insisted on carrying her. Normally Meia would refuse because it would be embarrassing, but he did not seem to accept any contradiction.
Mr Monet grabbed her around the stomach and put her on his shoulder like a potato sack.
Somehow Meia had expected something different. It was not necessarily noble. But it was not really uncomfortable either. The space was sufficient.
Mr Monet had one arm around her legs so that her bottom rested on it and she lay with her chest on his shoulder. Nevertheless, it did not seem as if he had insisted on carrying her because he wanted to touch her. His hand remained firmly on her thigh. Meia realised that he did not think of her as a woman, but more so as a child. It could be because she had been hiding under the table, because she had been crying, because she had wet her pants, because she was wearing pyjamas with cute seals, because she needed a plaster for her knee, because she had a plushy in her bed, because she did not know where the first aid kit was in her room and always gave short answers in simple sentences, or sometimes no answer at all. But it could also be just a coincidence. In principle, it was absolutely impossible to determine what the reason was.
Meia sat up, clutched her legs and buried her face in her sleeves. A low beeping sound was in her thoughts. Perhaps a quarter of an hour passed like this. She could not tell for sure. The longcase clock was broken and only ticked on the spot and the alarm clock had disappeared.
All of a sudden she heard footsteps. Several people came running up the stairs. It sounded like heavy footwear. There was a metallic clatter beneath the footsteps. It was the sound of full weapon belts. She stared at the door. The footsteps stopped right there. Her breath quickened. The handle lowered. She gripped tightly into the fabric of her pants.
The door opened. But stuck after a crack on the porcelain shards.
The person tried to jerk it open, but then it got stuck completely.
"It won't open."
"Go up. I'll handle this."
"Understood!"
Meia heard two people starting to run off. Directly afterwards, a hand reached through the gap, grabbed the thick board and started to push the door open. The shards scraped across the stone. The porcelain cracked and wedged itself firmly under the wood. Tiny splinters burst off. The shards offered all the resistance they could muster and became more and more the further the door opened, but the only thing that changed was that the upper part of the door bent. The person was strong enough that the shards could not slow it down.
A man with a greasy haircut became visible behind the board and the door opened at the speed he came into the room. The man wore carpenter's trousers and a whitish sailor's shirt. On his weapon belt hung a falchion without a scabbard. His shoulders were so broad that he barely fit through the door, and his head so high that he had to duck. He spotted Meia immediately. Shards of glass crunched under his black leather boots. A shadow of white light reflected off the silver blade and scattered into countless coloured sparks through each of the shards it struck. Little spots of rainbow fell all the way under the table. The floor beneath his feet was a shimmering sea of shards. The man had a presence that silenced the noise and a demeanour as if he owned the room.
Meia stared at the man and he stared back at her. It had been like that since he had come into the room. Before he came to the table, he casually threw the cover with one hand onto the floor. Then Meia had only two zips and the falchion in view. On the sword was a striking decoration of light blue metal. It was sinuous lines that looked like waves, but it was meant to represent something else. This man was not a sailor. Meia knew exactly who he was. Otherwise she would most likely not have remained so still.
With one hand the man took the table aside, then picked Meia up from the floor like a baby, put her on the mattress and went down on one knee in front of her.
"Your leg is injured. Do you have any other injuries?", " Are you in any pain?", "Can I get you anything?"
The man asked many such questions, but Meia barely understood him. Each of his words rushed and rattled in her ears, like small stones in the drainpipe of a gutter. In the end, all that remained was a loud beeping. Had her hearing been damaged? Would it heal? Suddenly the man brushed her trouser leg up to well above her knee. Out of reflex, Meia squeezed her thighs together and was about to back away, when she realised that he probably just wanted to look at her leg. At the same moment she noticed something else.
"It's just a little scraped up. It'll be fine with the right plaster," he explained, followed by a sigh as if relieved, then he stood up and as he walked to the cupboard he continued, "And don't worry about that. I've wet my pants over less.".
Meia was still embarrassed, even if it seemed like he really didn't care. She lifted her shirt forward so he would see it less. She then looked at her knee. It was slightly scraped and bleeding a little. It was harmless. It had probably happened when she had thrown herself on the floor.
All at once the door creaked and the beeping in her ears became louder. The man lifted the door completely off its hinges and placed it next to the longcase clock. He did it as if it were nothing. Yet the individual planks were almost beams. Next he retrieved a black box from the top of the cupboard. Meia did not even know that there was anything there.
When he got back, it turned out to be a first aid kit. Meia got a saucer-sized plaster on her knee.
"In the quarters, the first-aid kits are always on the cupboards. In the bathrooms and in the hallways they are on the wall. Don't you know that? Surely you were told that once?"
Meia did not answer. She was still too distraught. Maybe she should already know. She no longer knew. On the first day, knowledge was poured all over her.
"I'll take you to the great hall. We'll do a head count. I suppose you want to put some clothes on first?"
"The hall is intact?"
"Only the rear part of the palace was hit."
"Should I have run away?"
"Hmm, No, it is more dangerous to be hit by falling objects than for the tower to collapse. The palace and all city walls have a steel core. It was not wrong to stay under the table."
Again Meia understood only half and had to think the rest.
"I can't hear good."
The man was about to go back to the cupboard, but Immediately came back to her.
"How exactly, do you mean that? Can you describe it?"
"Everything you say is with noise and there's always a beeping sound."
"Is it in both ears?"
"Yes."
The man cast a thoughtful glance at the window and then looked at the shards.
"Did you have your mouth closed?"
~Is that important?~
"I don't know."
The man stood up again and patted her on the head with one hand to cheer her up, as if she were a dog.
"You'll be all right. I'll take you to a doctor."
Meia wanted to get up to get some fresh clothes, but the man held her down by the shoulder and insisted she stay seated. He went to her wardrobe himself. He did not ask first. He just asked her what she wanted him to bring.
Meia wanted a pair of trousers. She would forego underwear because of the situation. It certainly would not take that long to be let go afterwards.
"Do you need help changing?" the man asked, putting her trousers on the bed. He did not seem as if he cared about getting to look at her. He sounded more concerned.
"No. I can manage."
"Good, I'll stay out by the door until then."
"Wa-wait a minute!"
"Do you need anything else?"
"You're Francis Monet of the Kingsguard?"
"Yes, that's me. Is there anything in particular you want from me?"
"I..." ~I know your nephew?~ Meia did not know what she wanted from him either. "Thank you."
"I accept your thanks, but I don't deserve it. I'll wait outside."
~Why not?~
"What about the pirates?"
Mr Monet stopped short, glanced over his shoulder at her, then continued.
"They got away..." he squeezed through his teeth on the way out.
While Mr Monet waited outside the open door, Meia slipped in record speed and while lying on her back from one pair of pants into another. She then crumpled up the wet ones so that they looked dry. After she had done so, she wanted to get up, but when Mr Monet noticed this, he immediately came into the room and again asked her to remain seated. He insisted on carrying her. Normally Meia would refuse because it would be embarrassing, but he did not seem to accept any contradiction.
Mr Monet grabbed her around the stomach and put her on his shoulder like a potato sack.
Somehow Meia had expected something different. It was not necessarily noble. But it was not really uncomfortable either. The space was sufficient.
Mr Monet had one arm around her legs so that her bottom rested on it and she lay with her chest on his shoulder. Nevertheless, it did not seem as if he had insisted on carrying her because he wanted to touch her. His hand remained firmly on her thigh. Meia realised that he did not think of her as a woman, but more so as a child. It could be because she had been hiding under the table, because she had been crying, because she had wet her pants, because she was wearing pyjamas with cute seals, because she needed a plaster for her knee, because she had a plushy in her bed, because she did not know where the first aid kit was in her room and always gave short answers in simple sentences, or sometimes no answer at all. But it could also be just a coincidence. In principle, it was absolutely impossible to determine what the reason was.
