[h3]Sergeant Harald, Gallian Militia[/h3]

Despite his plan to police the bodies the next day, something in Glaive's tone gave Harald pause. [b]'... I won't order you to do it tonight, it's something we can do in the morning, give them a proper burial. But if you want to do it now, I won't stop you. Just make sure you get some rest too, Private.'[/b] Glaive was a bit of a mystery, he thought later on, sitting alone in the attic. She didn't act like anyone he had ever met and didn't talk enough for him to gauge her personality. Pretty much all he had to go on was her service record, which contained glowing reports from her trainers but little else... Certainly no personal details. Maybe she wasn't Gallian? Expat Imperials were pretty common, as were Federals. A voice interrupted his musing, which turned out to be Durandal. [b]'Hey, take it easy Private...'[/b] She staggered about as if drunk, setting off alarm bells in the back of Harald's mind. He wasn't a trained first aider, but knew his way around injuries. Whatever she had done, Durandal could be at risk of further injury if she wasn't careful. He slid down the attic ladder and reached out just in time to stop her falling. [b]'Hey, look at me. My eyes, here.'[/b] [i]Unfocussed, slow moving... shit.[/i] Probably some kind of head trauma, really not his area of expertise. He walked her over to an armchair, setting her down gently. [b]'Durandal? Come on, talk to me. Where does it hurt?'[/b] He knelt down before her and reached for his ragnaid, unsure of whether it would do any good.