Ithacles wanted to fall into a bed and stay there for days. He wanted all of his muscles to go still and quiet and simply rest. Vedette certainly looked comfortable. And awfully beautiful--and he wondered once again why she was dressed that way.
"That's true. Ruined a shield up there, or the paint anyway."
Really he wasn't too attached to any one object. Some men only had one sword, or one shield, and so they protected it like an heirloom. He had a dozen of each. Certainly he had his favorites--the short saber, and the yellow shield with their country's flag on it--but not the way others did. If his sword was broken or lost, it wouldn't be anything he lost sleep over.
"Some frost-bite as well."
He held out his right hand. The fingers were damaged on their undersides, from the second knuckle forward. They'd frozen to his hilt and he'd lost some skin freeing them.