Belisar stank. He was also plastered in sweat as he carried his equipment back to the barracks, spear over one shoulder, shield slung over the other and sword hanging in his sheath. He had been practicing in the predawn light after running around the lake when he had woken after a particularly vivid nightmare and could not force himself back to sleep. Hard work was the only thing that seemed to force the memories of the battle outside the walls of Konstantinos from his mind. The long boring walk to the Silver Leaves compound had nearly driven him insane. So he got dressed in his mail shirt, pulled a helmet on and gathered up his weapons and began running. Sometimes he liked to imagine that he was running away from the bad memories and towards something better but that never seemed to happen. After the run he began practicing with his schiavona, hacking and thrusting at imaginary foes and working with a mindless intensity, to keep him from reliving the battle where he watched his men get killed while he couldn't do anything about it.<br/><br/>Now he was exhausted, and almost ready to go back to sleep. But sleep is where the nightmares lay, and the thought of getting back into his bed made him shudder. Instead he dropped his equipment and stowed it under his bed along with his mail, which he dumped unceremoniously into his pack and left for the mess hall. He kept his sword with him though, just in case.<br/><br/>He looked awful, with a rough looking beard and circles under his bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep. The thought of getting back into bed scared him though, unless he managed to completely exhaust himself so he dropped into a dreamless sleep. He was new to the Silver Leaves, just joined two days ago after demonstrating his swordsmanship, which he had practiced on the walk here, mostly to give him something to focus on at the end of the day. That had impressed the recruiters, barely, and he was let in. Being so new he hadn't really managed to meet any of the other mercenaries, and with his current attitude, many had not bothered to meet him. That suited him just fine though, and he loaded a plate with some rolls and meat slices. Tiredly, he stumbled over to an empty spot and began eating, slowly and mechanically. There were three others at this table, a dwarf and two humans, though one of them looked as though he were part giant and his armour added to the effect. Part of him wanted to say something, to reach out and talk. Another part made him look back down at his plate and continue chewing.<br/><br/>Hopefully there would be a contract for him soon. Then he could actually be doing something useful with his energy instead of running and practicing. Give me something to focus on, a a part of him screamed. Maybe he could wash away his shame and guilt with blood, his or whomever he would be paid to kill. That was a thought he had nursed for a long time, ever since he had decided to join the Silver Leaves. It was a rope, and hopefully it would work.