And, like so many of those who lived in the major cities of the Ayinha territories, Ejnar joined the army at fifteen, marching to the borders to protect a country he didn't particularly care about. The pay was good enough, and there was food and usually shelter, two bonuses over many of the jobs that would have awaited him back home. Now, there was very little that could have convinced him to leave the army. The army was home, a place where he'd made Sergeant by twenty-three and Sergeant Major by twenty-seven, dancing up occasionally to Captain before someone noticed and put him back in the ranks. It was where he could find all those he had grown up with, who he'd run into battle with time and time again, with whom he'd shared stories of home and dreams that stretched beyond a good pair of boots and a warm breakfast the next day.

Dorell, too.

None of the Seventh would forget Dorell any time soon.

He wound his way through the streets of Kir Teldras, his thin boots alerting him as to when the streets turned from packed earth to stone to wooden planks. He sighed—the boots had been well-soled when he'd lifted them off the body of a dead Chirrum soldier last year, but constant marching was awful on them, and the army was stubborn about paying for new boots only once every five years.

Five years. Two chances every year. Ten chances.

After seeing the same shop sign for the third time, he entered instead, deciding to get directions before his already shaky resolve could falter. The roof over his head made him nervous of blood and fire magic attacks manifesting next to him, as they so often did in forts, and the close quarters had him looking around warily, uncertain as to who or what might cause a threat.

"Back from the border?" the man behind the counter asked sympathetically. A closer look revealed that he was missing his left arm—a veteran. "Don't recognize the crest, though. Fourteenth?"

"Seventh. Can you tell me how to get here?"

The shopkeeper's expression softened even more upon seeing the solemn grey parchment the name was written on. "No. But if you were to go to Kaven's Seat, I'm sure someone would know. Probably somewhere to stay, too. Third street on your right, then straight to the square. Can't miss it."

"Leave's nearly over. But thanks."