Beron waited while the cook ushered a tray food out the door, the smells savoury and rich as a Novice carried it past him. The Kitchens were a chaotic symphony of smells, noises and voices as the Mistress of Kitchens prepares to feed the entire Tower.
“Speak Drin please, I have no time and you know Drin can eat extra if they need. There wasn’t much of you to start with,”’sniffed the cook as she wielded her spoon like a general’s command baton.
“Where do you butcher the animals, I want to help with the task today if I can,” said Beron, keeping his shoulders square and his gaze firm as she regarded him in surprise.
“Well I won’t say no to the help, but it’s an odd request. Should I send for a Healer, is there anything wrong?” She asked, a note of concern working into her voice as she directed Beron to the pens.
“I’m good, but thank you. I grew on a farm and just miss it,” lied Beron awkwardly as he took the leather apron from the peg by the door. Once they’d entered the yard, Beron was surprised to find how cool the area felt. He also noticed a surprising lack of insects amongst the butchers blocks.
“An Aes Sedai keeps the bugs away, that helps prevent spoiling, and the room is kept cold for the same reason as well,” stated the mistress of Kitchens to the question in his eyes. Beron nodded and thought of his own family’s storeroom and smokehouse. He would have to inquire as to the cost of such a thing, it would be an amazing gift for his mother and aunts.
“Well you weren’t lying about being from a farm if the smells and sights don’t bother you, you can help over there,” she said before returning to supervise her cooks. Beron nodded at the other man, ignoring the question looks as he selected knives from the cupboard, sharpening them deftly on a stone before selecting an animal and setting to work.
Beron had butchered an animal many times, and therefore he proceeded with efficient and quick movements. However as he proceeded, he found himself wondering about the similarities between this knife work and the technique needed for combat.
Depending on the blade, one had to saw or chop hard, and while a fighting dagger had edges, to him they seemed mostly for stabbing. Against the hide such actions required a surprising amount of force, and as he worked he realized that he already knew where to target, how to find weak spots.
It was a dark realization, for Beron. This wasn’t the stuff of battles that men spoke of around the campfires, or the gleemen at their trade. As he stood there, separating meat from bone and deftly portioning the meat for curing or cooking; he realized there was a stark truth in the “butcher’s bill” many of the veterans had muttered about.
Could he really stand pressed close to a man, and end his life with a blade. Closer than even the sword required? Beron pondered to himself, and he found himself thinking of his sister; mother; and Marin Sedai. She had impressed him immensely, and had helped steer his feet to the Grey Tower, though he had never seen her here. But the knowledge he had gained; not only of the shadow, but the other threats that surrounded them, galvanized his resolve. Maybe he would lead a gallant charge to the front, men flowing behind his banner. Or maybe he would struggle in the alleys and docksides of Tear, either way he knew the bill was worth paying.
And so with that in mind, he put the butcher knives in the sink, taking care to wash them carefully before replacing them in the cupboard. After that he removed the knives he had requested from the Armoury, and placed them on the block. Looking over each, he considered his choices: One was a classic rondel, sturdy and excellent for punching even with it’s blunted training point. Next came the ones he had already used, a versatile blade with a small cross guard and hilt. Taking each in turn, he worked with the hanging meat to practice his blows. The tension of blade and hide was far different from the straw dummy, and the blunted tip showed Beron the force that could be applied by using the edges.
Finally he stood there, his chest heaving as he caught his breath, Beron looked at the haunch he had attacked. Vivid cuts marked where he had succeeded in cutting the hide, and he noted the cut tendons and such at the joints. Taking the butchers blade in hand once more, he set about salvaging what he could from the haunch while he considered what he had learned. Once finished, he returned the daggers to Armoury and headed for a much needed wash.
The everyday life of the inhabitants of the Grey Tower. This board is for general daily roleplay around the Tower, in the corridors, rooms and halls that make up most of the building.
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meble kuchenne na wymiar cennik
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