LU 253 - Stanley 12

Stanley sits on the side of his bed, healing pots beside him on the table as he just stares down.
He was beaten so quickly.. it was utterly pathetic, feeling the elytrian's blade running through his body, taking him straight out of the fight. He had to drag himself away to ensure he didn't get blasted or cut open by anything else. Thankfully he did, because soon after, someone started firing off rockets and spawning a wither.
He was in no condition to fight anymore, and he wasn't about to get himself killed either, so he just watched.
And he watched them win.. taking out so many of them so swiftly. It was disgusting, but he didn't care about their politics or their war, not really. All he cared about was Hallthorr. but this.. this was too much. He was useless then, and he was useless now.
Getting up and chugging his health pot, feeling his wounds and his pain ease, he sighed.
The revolutionists wouldn't find him out here. They couldn't unless they forced it out of someone who already knows where he lived, and Stanley knew that. But he would still prepare for it, should they come somehow. So there Stanley was, thinking to himself about designs and ideas to defend his home. Traps and mechanisms to hopefully detour any intruders, or at least slow them down. He had to be ready. He wasn't going to face any trials or executions for a nation he wasn't a part of, he was only paid to help. And he didn't. He couldn't.
So he wouldn't any longer. Just Hallthorr. That's all in that damned town and that blasted empire he cared about. Just his prince.