“Your soul is old,” Isolde answered simply. “You are called to be a soldier as surely as the Angel Michael. Your weapon, the weapons of men and his, the flaming sword. Blessed be.” Isolde intoned these words almost in the tone of formal blessing, giving sanctity to the mercenary’s business.<br/><br/>She looked deep in his eyes to the intent of his heart and realized he spoke the truth. She also took note of the stuttering hesitance as he struggled to allow the innate goodness shine through the cracks in his cold demeanor. Isolde smiled, a smile so radiant it was as if the candles in the room dimmed.<br/><br/>“I accept, Herr Buchannon. I have a condition though. I do not care for formalities. I am Isolde and you may address me thus.”<br/><br/>The older maid brought in the first course of a delicate beef broth soup laced with thinly sliced onions and cheese. Isolde took a sip and declared,<br/><br/>“Fine French cuisine. I have longed for such delicacy in the midst of a country famous for heavy fare such as potatoes and bratwurst.” She broke a crust of steaming yeast roll and slathered it with real butter. “You set a fine table, Herr Buchannon, while many in this city starve. There is no judgment. How does starving with the masses save them from the hunger?”<br/><br/>She looked around his sumptuous chambers and realized he had offered them for her use upon occasion. Relief crossed her brow as she thought of the secret room somewhere in her flat and the mysterious dream that somehow was not a dream. She thought of the Nazi’s visiting her there and the sense of invasion the woman had brought with her. Isolde could handle demons but a human masquerading in the name of God made her skin crawl.<br/><br/>“You have offered your rooms. What did you have in mind? An occasional visit?  Moving into your basement for weeks on end? I may have need to relocate soon if events unfold as I fear they might.”<br/><br/>Her face was quiet, serene and earnest as she leaned closer, covering his hand once more with her own.<br/><br/>“Your offer of funds is kind but I only need enough to live on. My needs are supplied.” At his puzzled look, Isolde sat back in her chair with a small smile.<br/><br/>“As I need, I share with the Universe that need and soon it is supplied. I would not take your money. Your skills and your arm, yes, I will accept.” She then did an act that would shock many but she took his hand and brought it to her ruby red lips. She laid a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “So mote it be.”