My horn "Scheiny" and a little friend, Matt M's pocket trumpet:
"What does he want from me?"
"He wants you alive."
"I don't know."
"That's all anyone can tell me. 'I don't know'. So what's the point in serving a god if none of us knows what he wants?"
"I don't think it's our purpose to understand. Except one thing: we're soldiers. We have to know what we're fighting for. I'm not fighting so some man or woman I barely know can sit on a throne made of swords."
"So what are you fighting for?"
"Life. Death is the enemy. The first enemy and the last."
"But we all die."
"The enemy always wins. And we still need to fight him."
"That's all I know. You and I won't find much joy while we're here. But we can keep others alive. We can defend those who can't defend themselves."
Did I really just order a $20 sewing machine? (And are they any good for light tasks?)