Mister Hallem choked on his own spit at the surprising show of force from Major Barshaw. Her swirling vortex of ether pressed into Hallem from all sides, as if he were being crushed by a great hand from the Goddess herself. Major Barshaw was so skilled at manipulating ether that this impressive display of intimidating energy was merely a fraction of her capabilities, and he knew it. In the heat of anger, Hallem had forgotten how powerful the major's “storm” truly was.

“Yes, Major,” Hallem gasped. “Of course, ma’am.”

With that, the tempest of ether dissipated, leaving the surprising comfort of Mevralls’s dark shroud in its wake. The lieutenant smirked at the cowed Hallem, but his grin faded once he spotted the terrified half-breed clutching her head with both hands. The major hadn’t noticed how effective her storm had been against someone unfamiliar with it, and her lieutenant took pity on the outcast as his superior officer strode away from the shroud.

“There now, miss. It’s all right,” Mevralls comforted with a gentle voice that had lost all grit and gravel from before. “Come on, follow me. We can’t let her get too far ahead of us, right?”

Still unable to speak, Khazmine simply nodded and trailed after Mevralls with trembling footsteps, leaving Mister Hallem to take position as rear guard. The grumpy sergeant clearly resented having to protect such a worthless charge, but he’d much prefer that to dealing with Major Barshaw’s ether storm again. Hallem clenched his jaw and set aside his pettiness for the time being, knowing full well that Mevralls and Barshaw couldn’t possibly protect this whelp forever.

It's only a matter of time…

Full-dark descended on Old Sarzonn, making Mevralls’s shroud unnecessary. The troupe of warriors stalked silently in the night, with Khazmine trying desperately to keep up. The outcast reasoned that these soldiers were probably accustomed to roaming around freely at night, unbothered by the darkness around them. She, on the other hand, had great difficulty navigating without moonlight or a torch, and tripped over uneven cobblestones with her threadbare shoes.

“Careful now, that’s it,” Mevralls reached out a black gauntlet and allowed Khazmine to grasp onto it. The edges were razor sharp, but the palm side was smoothed and bathed in warmth from Mevralls’s body heat. “You know, I just realized that I don’t know your name, miss.”

He was so polite and friendly that Khazmine questioned his motives. It had been many years since the outcast had been treated with any civility, and even then it was for some contrived purpose. And yet, Mevralls was unflinching in offering his hand to Khazmine, who took it gratefully. The lieutenant tugged gently when needed to help Khazmine avoid exposed and jagged pavers, and she willingly followed before too long.

“My name is Jaycen. Jaycen Mevralls,” he offered after a long pause. “The soldiers call me ‘Lieutenant’ here.”

“Khazmine,” the outcast replied. “The soldiers call me ‘vermin’ or worse.”

Mevralls stifled a laugh at Khazmine’s pointed sense of humor. He’d suspected that she was sharp in senses and was pleased to discover that Khazmine was sharp of wits as well. “I suppose you’ll need a nickname then. Let me give it a good think, and I’ll get back with you. How about that?”

Khazmine had meant to sound sarcastic, but this human took her barb with good humor anyway. While the major was silent and stoic, Lieutenant Mevralls was all warmth and friendliness to the outcast. He kept Khazmine’s thoughts from wandering by explaining things as they went along. The lieutenant detailed what locations they passed during full-dark, interesting facts about Old Sarzonn’s history, and information about the guild itself.

“But I thought the war was over,” Khazmine broke her silence and sought insight from her guide. “Didn’t they sign a treaty or something?”

“They did last year, after the monsoons,” Mevralls pursed his lips to buy time to find the right words to explain. “But it’s an uneasy thing, really. Either side could take up arms at any moment and start the fight again, so we must be ready.”

“Why stay here then?” Khazmine asked.

“Because believe it or not, these plains have strategic importance to both sides,” Mevralls continued. Not only was the city sitting on a goldmine of grains and sweet thistle-wheat, but it was also geographically situated between the human settlements to the west, and the Outsiders’ high walled territories to the east. “It’s too valuable a position to remain unclaimed. By settling here, we actually protect the city.”

“How so?”

“The Solanai of Old Sarzonn and are paid protectors of the city,” Mevralls explained and gestured at the illuminated midtown sun clock as they passed it. “Whichever army hires us will also effectively control Old Sarzonn in the bargain. It’s a fragile arrangement, but of mutual benefit to us and the citizenry. So long as the Solanai are here, no invaders can torment the city.”

The arrangement reminded Khazmine of those fiendishly resourceful wyrbirds in the Wilds. The crafty avians were known to build homes and lay their eggs in a nesting raddilbak’s territory. The birds knew full well that the raddilbaks would chase and kill any predators near their nests, and the wyrbirds kept a vigil for the raddilbaks in exchange, allowing them to rest without worry for their own young.

“And what about me, sir?” Khazmine asked. “I’m no soldier. What shall I do here?”

“We’ll have you on as a fetch-and-carry for the barracks, maybe even for the colonel himself, depending on how well you do,” Mevralls smiled. Khazmine understood the job to be something between a maid and a gopher—someone who did odd jobs around an estate by request. It was a better position than a char woman, scrubbing floors and such, but it was also not well-defined by the lieutenant.

“You’ll also receive combat and ether training as part of your duties,” Mevralls continued. Khazmine detected a curious lilt in his tone as the lieutenant seemed to wonder aloud about something important. “We’ll need to find you a sponsor, though. That’s someone who takes responsibility for training new recruits. It’s usually a ranking officer, but we may have some trouble finding one to agree because, well…”

Because I’m a stray and an outcast. Khazmine lowered her head. Who would want to take the time to train some ruddy half-breed?

“Ahem, don’t mind me, miss,” Mevralls recovered. “I’m not the best at it, but I’d happily take you as a mentee if we can’t find someone better. I just hope you’ll go easy on me. It would be my first time teaching ether control.”

Before Khazmine could agree to his proposal, both travelers jolted at the unexpected release of charged ether around them. Major Barshaw stood some distance ahead of them and had stopped at a crossroads near the Solanai barracks entrance. Across the street were a full Star Guard of men patrolling well outside their holy house’s district. Khazmine could hear the major’s low, rumbling growl from where she stood, and cowered behind Lieutenant Mevralls for cover.

“Stay behind me, miss,” Mevralls whispered and continued walking with Khazmine concealed behind his long, black cloak. The outcast had latched firmly onto the hemmed edge of his heavy cloak, and he could sense the tremors rippling through it as she followed along with tensed muscles. “Just keep moving with me. They won’t even see you.”

Sure enough, as soon as the Star Guard got close enough to spot the major, they turned away with a surprising lack of dignity or poise. It was, perhaps, the most singularly foolish idea to approach the den of the Solanai at full-dark, so the holy guard fled for Lord Vythorne’s domain.

“Gah, the cheek of those fools,” Hallem remarked from behind the others. For once, Khazmine could agree with him. “They’ll be back, too, the scoundrels.”

“Mister Hallem, remain here and watch for their return,” Mevralls commanded. “You are relieved at dawn and have no duties until next dusk. Inform your relief person of the situation when they arrive.”

“Yes, sir!” Hallem grinned. It was a gift to have such a shift for guard duty, plus extra time off to boot. Maybe rescuing this wretched half-breed wasn’t such a bad deal for him after all. Mister Hallem remained behind, while Major Barshaw and her followers entered through heavy wooden gates. Hallem called out once the gates were nearly closed again. “Thank you, sir!”

“I’m afraid I can’t buy their acceptance of you so easily, miss,” Mevralls apologized as the immense expanse of the camp stretched out in front of them in all directions. “You’ll have to do that on your own merits.”

The Solanai guild camp seemed endless, and its high, spiked walls dwarfed everyone inside, especially by the entrance. A faint hint of starlight peeked through the shifting clouds and Khazmine traced the outlines of the outer wall with her eyes. It looked as if a great maw of blackened teeth reached up to rend the skies. It was intimidating, yet also orderly and comforting to have a high wooden barrier around them.

Major Barshaw paused briefly in front of a still-lit building on the ground floor of the camp. She lingered there to wait for Mevralls and Khazmine to catch up, while observing a vent on the rooftop emit billowing puffs of clear steam that distorted the skies. Once the two stragglers approached, the major took off again without a word.

“Good idea, Major,” Mevralls smiled at her consideration, much to Khazmine’s confusion. The stoic titan hadn’t said a word, but her lieutenant understood her intentions perfectly. “The major has granted you use of the bathhouse for tonight. There’s warm water and brambleberry soap inside if you like. You may want to start in the small tub first, due to, well, you know…”

How filthy I am. Khazmine flinched. I understand. At least he tried to be delicate about it.

“Thank you, sir,” Khazmine scratched the back of her neck and took timid steps inside, uncertain of what to expect. The outcast startled at the lieutenant’s call from outside as she disrobed.

“I’ll be back momentarily,” Mevralls called out enough for his voice to echo in the luxuriant bathhouse. “Stay in as long as you need.”

Khazmine set to work on removing the layers of dirt and grime that had become embedded onto her skin and hair. As promised, a copper basin filled with hot water was available to remove the bulk of the filth on the outcast. Once finished, Khazmine submerged herself in the expansive communal bath that smelled strongly of brambleberries.

Ah, I get it now. Khazmine smiled at the ingenuity of the baths as she came up from the aromatic waters for air. It smells so strongly that I imagine this scent would cling to their bodies for days afterwards. I wonder if there’s some significance to the—

“Miss Khazmine? Are you there?”

“Yes, sir. Just a moment, please,” Khazmine shambled out of the bath and looked around for something to cover herself with. She frowned at her own disgusting clothing until a faint movement caught her eye. A thick, black-plated arm poked in from the entrance and waved what looked like a bundle of clothing for Khazmine to grab.

“It’s not much, but it will get you by until you can fetch clothes that fit better,” Mevralls explained. “Come on out when you’re through.”

Practically all of the clothing he’d found was far too big for the scrawny outcast, but it was warm, clean, and welcome, nonetheless. Khazmine tiptoed out of the bathhouse barefooted and swimming in acres of fabric but was otherwise the picture of cleanliness.

“Nicely done,” Mevralls smirked, half in disbelief that she’d cleaned up so well. “Until you become an initiate, you’ll need to secure more permanent lodgings outside the barracks in the future. But you've been granted permission to stay inside the camp for just tonight.”

“W-where are we going, sir?” Khazmine shivered, partly due to a nip in the air and partly from nerves. A twinge of brambleberry scent hung in the air from Mevralls as she followed behind him. A pit formed in her stomach as the lieutenant stopped in front of easily the most decorated and finely appointed building at the heart of the camp.

“Oh, hadn’t I said?” Mevralls had genuinely forgotten to mention their destination with everything else that was going on in the camp that night. He gestured to one of the heavy wooden doors with the swirling suns carved into them and bid Khazmine to enter. “You’ll be bunking with the major tonight.”