Gavin stood further to his left, responsible for the hunting and provision of food for a traveling party of soldiers. There was one like him in every squad, thus, it was a permanent job should one manage to obtain it. He wore a grey tunic of cotton, layered with a belted leather vest and a guard on his left shoulder. A set of daggers were stored in an odd-looking scabbard that he had strapped onto his legs, two on each leg, just above the knees. His tall brown boots spoke clearly of the travels that his job required, speckled as they were with shades of white, red, and yellow. Etraon watched silently as the man reached up and readjusted the red fox collar that lined the long cloak that draped about his shoulders.

The man next to him, Merle the archer, was dressed similarly. Given the fact that his enemies often shot back, however, his leather long-coat was belted at the front, stretching down just far enough to cover his thighs. He wore shoulder guards and arm guards on both sides, tightly secured with buckles to make sure that they stayed in place when he was firing the accurate shots that he was known for into enemy ranks. Every boy that he had taken under his wing thus far had gone on to make a name for himself. Many came back to serve in the army directly, climbing the ranks of the archers until they were eventually leading their own squads and platoons. Two in particular progressed to the point where they headed up battalions of archers, directly under the supervision of Merle himself. His shoulder-length wavy hair was parted in the center, giving his face a symmetry similar to that of the arrows that he carried in the large quiver that was slung over one side.

Etraon smiled briefly at Morgan, who stood next to him. Slim and elegant as compared to her companions, she appeared even more scholarly than normal. Last time he had seen her, she stopped an epidemic somewhere to the East, bringing Sirena with her when she returned to the capital. Morgan’s cropped hair had grown out a little since he had last seen her, and now that it was longer, he saw the resemblance to her niece, Lance’s sister.

It had been quite some time since he had seen Laymerial, but the girl had a rare aptitude in the healing arts and Morgan had seen to it that she was sent off to begin her education as soon as possible. She had yet to return, which had been something of a sore point with Lance since they began their training. Morgan nodded in greeting, but for some reason, seemed distant and distracted.

“What do you know?” Douglas said with mock surprise from somewhere behind them, “everyone’s here on time.” Etraon turned to see the general walking toward them with four people in tow.

“Why, hello, your Highnesses,” a middle-aged man with sandy blond hair and blue eyes greeted them as he approached. The sunlight glinted off of the horse emblem that was embroidered into his shoulder guards, and Etraon found himself smiling at the familiar sight from his childhood days.

“Philip!” Aurelius grinned broadly and the horsemaster winked at them slyly. “It’s been years! I didn’t know you were coming.”

“A chance to have a prince or two working with my horses?” Philip chuckled. “Douglas would have to chain me to the inside of a crate and then some to keep me away from an opportunity like this.”

Despite his initial feeling of respect and his original wish to be apprenticed to Forde, Etraon had to admit that training with Philip would be a close second. Philip had spent years teaching them how to ride and how to approach the majestic steeds that the knights rode into battle without having one horse stare at another in disbelief that these clumsy children dared to enter their stalls. Or so he said, anyway.

“General, the clerics and I wish to perform our own assessment of Sirena,” Morgan spoke then. “Elsewhere,” she added after a brief pause.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Reed remarked, looking up then at the Kites with renewed interest. “I was not aware that you had chosen your prospective apprentice early, Morgan, nor did I know that an early selection of future protégés was possible,” he added with a pointed glance in Douglas’s direction. The general coughed uncomfortably and bowed his head apologetically in Morgan’s direction for not having informed the others sooner.

“Sirena’s a…well, a special case. The girl came here with the understanding that the clerics would fund her initial training and that she could join them if she so desired.” Reed nodded, satisfied.

Etraon resisted the urge to turn and stare as he knew the others were doing, feeling that the additional set of eyes would only make his bandmate uncomfortable. A moment of understanding passed through his mind as the pieces of the puzzle came together. It was no wonder that Sirena had been rather skittish for the past couple weeks, starting, Etraon realized, when he had first seen her pale-faced at lunch on the day that Lance had told them about Theodore and the Wolf band's field trip. Little was known to him regarding what the clerics’ training would be like. It was, for one, located in another sector of the capital, closer to the castle than the training barracks. It was unheard of for a student of any kind to receive a direct scholarship from the clerics.

“A protégé already, young lady?” Oscar boomed. “I would like to witness a demonstration of her skills, that is, if the Lady Morgan does not mind taking the time.” Etraon felt that the person who would mind a public demonstration would be his bandmate instead of Morgan, but obviously Oscar and the other trainers thought otherwise.

“Of course, Master Smith,” Morgan replied smoothly, procuring a small paper package from her pouch, bound snugly with twine. She took a quick sniff and turned to Sirena to address her directly.

“Sirena,” Morgan asked slowly, holding up the package to the girl’s nose so that she could take in its scent, “can you tell me what plant this leaf comes from and what its uses are?” She then turned and began to pass the package around to the others, putting what Etraon felt was an unfair, unspoken pressure on Sirena. But Etraon knew his bandmate well, and if there was one subject that she understood better than even Karina, it was herbs and medicines.

“Ragwort, milady,” Sirena replied steadily, “those in the healing arts use all parts of the plant, save the roots. It is primarily used for bee stings and burns.”

“How is it applied to the body?”

“Poultices are the safest method, though warm water that has been strained through after having soaked the plant can be used to rinse.”

“A Valmarese prince was assassinated with a poisoned arrow. Give me one possible diagnosis.”

“Desert-rose sap,” came the instant reply.

“Why?” Morgan snapped, though Etraon knew from experience, the slight twitch of the corners of her lips spoke of a hidden smile.

“Severe blistering in the mouth and throat,” Sirena supplied, pausing briefly before continuing, “in addition to excessive vomiting are key symptoms of desert rose sap poisoning.”

Etraon and the others gaped at her in amazement, wondering how their bandmate had managed to remember a nameless prince. They had never seen such undisguised skills in herbology in someone their age, and the fact that they had not discovered this fact about her prior to their assessments was more than surprising. They slowly realized that she perhaps didn’t remember the prince himself, but the method of assassination instead.

“Now, if there’s nothing else, I will take Sirena,” Morgan smiled, pleased that her protégé had proven herself so capable in front of the group.

“Sirena?” Douglas asked. “Do you accept the post?”

Sirena bit her lip. She looked at her friends with a strangled expression, looked back at Morgan, and then at her feet before speaking. “Yes…I accept.”

-----

Author's Note:

xoxo,

Elfarine