He was supposed to report to Duke Edmund but he figured he could at least get the road grime off before he did. The question was whether to walk across town and use the baths or just shower at the barracks. Finally he decided on the latter and stripped off his clothes, wrapping a towel around his waist.

The showers had been added to the barracks just before he left. There wasn’t much to them, just a series of spigots overhead surrounded by concrete floor and walls. Compared to the bathhouse they were positively primitive, but it beat the heck out of walking all the way across town. For some reason he really didn’t want to talk to half the people in town, which was more or less what would happen if he headed to the baths.

The barracks were deserted this time of day — the instructors were out chivvying students or working in their offices, which were across the quad, and the permanent guards were drilling — and he wandered down the corridor alone. The showers were at the center of the wooden building, past officer territory and into the area where the NCOs bunked. He nodded at the charge of quarters as he passed, then turned into the bathroom.

There was an orderly in there cleaning up but, again, he just nodded at him, then walked into the shower room, pulling the towel off and hanging it on a hook before turning on the water.

The water took forever to get hot, but at that it was still better than anything Harzburg had had for a long time. There was a sliver of soap on a ledge and he used it liberally including on his hair. The latter was starting to get long again and it was about time for a cut. But that, at least, would have to wait. By now the duke would have heard he was back. He turned off the shower and grabbed his towel, heading back to his room.