Fabrian arrived at the merchant plaza just as night settled upon the shoulders of the city. The stars above winked happily through the slowly darkening dusk. Most of the wagons were vacant by now, with only a few merchants still milling around and unpacking their wares for the short stay in Rotia. Eventually, Fabrian made her way to her and Netali’s shared wagon, and to her surprise, the head merchant was there piling various goods into crates. 

Spotting Fabrian, she called out with a wave. “Ah, there you are! What’d you think of the city?”

“Big. I only walked to the Center,” Fabrian said, reaching out to grab the crate Netali was lugging off the carriage. 

“Thank you,” Netali said, turning her attention to another one. “These are some jewels that I found from that merchant we met before Lucaraville. Figured I’d try selling them here. Then using whatever we get from that, I can invest in food and resources for the return journey.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Fabrian agreed, resting the box against her hip. Only jewels? The crate was incredibly heavy. 

“You got back not a moment too late,” Netali continued. “A messenger from my Housing Guild acquaintance came by, we’re to meet him early in the morning. You should go rest up. We’ll head out at daybreak before the guild opens.”

“Oh, about that,” Fabrian said. “I don’t believe I’ll be using the guild afterall.”

“What? Why?” Netali stopped what she was doing and turned to look at Fabrian. “It’s a far better investment to purchase a house. And with all the money you’ve managed to squirrel away in the past month on the road, you have no small down payment.”

“I’m going to try out for the knighthood here,” Fabrian said. “They’ll provide barracks to stay in.”

“What?” Netali’s expression darkened. 

Fabrian didn’t like that look. That I’m borderline angry but also disappointed look. “The knights here in Agan are holding tryouts. I think I have a fair shot at—”

“No chance,” Netali bit out. “Are you crazy? After you just got stitched up from the debacle with Stella?”

“I don’t appreciate that tone, I’m not a child Netali,” Fabrian snapped back. “And that happened because my weapon doesn’t have a blade. I was fighting against armed cavalry soldiers with a bludgeon. All things considered, I think I did fairly well.”

“You could have died.” Netali jumped down from the wagon and faced Fabrian. “Alright, explain it to me then. If war breaks out in Natalez as you’ve predicted—if the murder attempt goes through, as you’ve predicted—who do you think will face the oncoming onslaught, Fabrian?”

“The knights, but—”

“That’s right, the knights. They will be on the front lines of bloodshed,” Netali grit out. “You’ve barely begun your strength training. A month ago, you could barely carry a bag of rocks without hurting yourself, and now you think you’re ready for warfare? You have no idea what you’re getting into!”

“I have no idea? Netali, I died back in my world because of warfare,” Fabrian protested.

“So now you have a death wish? Do you want to die again?” Netali demanded.

Fabrian set the crate down and crossed her arms over her chest. “What is wrong with you? Yeah, maybe I’m not quite up to par where I used to be, but until either I die or you-know-who-dies, there won’t be any fighting for a while. There’s still time to train.”

“So you can go through it all over again?”

“Why are you so against this?”

“Because you weren’t the one who had to help Cleri carry your stupid unconscious body off their horse!” Netali yelled. “You weren’t the one who had to hold you down while the doctor sterilized your wounds for the magician to seal them. You weren't the one who waited days, wondering if you were ever going to wake up again.”

Fabrian blinked slowly. 

“Whether or not you like it, we care about you. Me, Cleri, Hail, Armon—” Netali pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “At least back there, we were there to help you. But if you join the Agan knighthood, none of us will be able to help if anything happens. I brought you to Rotia so you could live a good life, to separate yourself from both yours and her past lives. You could be anyone you want to be here.”

Fabrian remembered the day she told her parents that she’d joined officer’s school for the Army. Her father had stormed out of the house, and her mother broke down sobbing; as if they both mourned someone who still stood in front of them. “What will we do if something happens, and we’re not there?” Her mother had cried. Fabrian pressed her lips together, choking back whatever cry built at the back of her throat—she refused to break down a second time today. 

Instead, she offered Netali a half-hearted smile, trying not to let the corners of her mouth twitch down.

“Why would you do it all over again?” Netali’s angry expression fell at the sight, her entire posture sagging as she began to concede. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Fabrian paused. And suddenly it wasn’t her and Netali anymore. She felt like she was twenty-four again, a late college entrant with no better course on her life than to do the status quo before going back home to her parents. But there was Mando, her best friend, reaching out his hand for her to follow him. Offering her a chance to devote herself to something more—to give herself a path to helping people in a way that she could with all of her strength. It was a small step that irrevocably changed the course of her life. She laughed to herself, shaking her head. “Maybe not.”

Rage flashed across Netali’s face, hot and quick, before it warped into grief, before lastly it melted into an exhausted disbelief. “You’re insane.”

“I think, no matter what world I’m in, I still want to help the people around me.” Fabrian said softly, gripping her biceps and hugging herself. “But when I think about it, it feels like a no-brainer kind of decision. I just know it’s what I have to do. This will always be a facet of my life that calls me.”

“And what about your body,” Netali asked, her anger deflating, resigned to Fabrian’s choice. “Will it hold up to that kind of life you want?”

“It will,” Fabrian nodded. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Netali sighed in defeat. “You’re such a pain.”

“I know,” Fabrian agreed, offering the slightest of smug grins. 

They stood there for a moment, at this crossroads in time. Netali would walk one way and Fabrian would walk the opposite. Fabrian wondered if from the moment they’d met, this goodbye was inevitable. The month-long journey on the road, navigating this new world under the merchant’s tutelage, all of it led to where Fabrian would have to say goodbye. Yet, for however short their journey together had been, Fabrian didn’t regret any of it. The time she spent with Netali and her traveling merchants had been invaluable. She reached out and embraced Netali. 

“Thank you,” Fabrian said. “For everything.”

Netali clenched her jaw and tightly returned the hug. “If you don’t become the best damn knight in this country, I’ll fish you out of there and take you back on the road myself.”

“I’ll become the best,” Fabrian promised. She wondered that if the conversation with her parents’ had also gone this way—would she have seen them more before she died? 

They separated from the hug after a moment and Fabrian laughed weakly. “Y’know, I ran into someone who looked like my sister. I gave her a hug too. I think that’s the most physical contact I’ve had since I got here—it’s kinda nice.”

“Don’t let Cleri hear you’re touch starved, or they’ll latch onto you like a leech.” Netali said with a bemused glance. She looked away and rubbed the corner of her eyes with her fingertips. Exhaling a shaky breath, she stood straight and nodded toward the flyer. “So what’s your plan then?”

“The Knights of Agan are holding tryouts all week,” Fabrian said. “I’ll go tomorrow morning…I want to get it over with sooner rather than later. That way, on the off chance that I don’t make it in, I can figure out a Plan B. Surely there's a need for accountants in the East Side.”

“And if that’s the case, I’ll rearrange the meeting with my guy in the guild,” Netali said. “But since we’re already canceling on him this time, you better not fail.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Fabrian smiled. “I guess I’m a bit nervous? I haven’t tested as a soldier in…well, since I first became an officer back then.”

“I imagine things shouldn’t be too different,” Netali shrugged. “You’ll be testing your physical aptitude and your mental capabilities as well.”

“So there will be a physical and written portion?”

“There might be, depending on how wealthy the incoming recruits are. Lower class citizens are less likely to be tested on any literary skills. So it could be a purely physical test.”

Fabrian looked at the head-merchant in shock. “Everyone we’ve met so far has known how to read and write.”

“For trade, it’s a requirement. We merchants are considered upper-middle class,” Netali explained. “So most receive training during their apprenticeship. Otherwise, we would not be allowed to work directly with the nobility.”

“Damn, can’t escape classism anywhere.” Fabrian looked down on her feet. At her previous officer’s training, she had excelled at the written portions. She also often achieved accolades for her written stratagem proposals. If she didn’t have that written opportunity, could she solely rely on her growing strength to surpass a physical portion? 

She honestly hadn’t considered that problem.

“Ah-ah, no cold feet now,” Netali tsked as she watched Fabrian's gaze slowly grow vacant. “You’re going to figure this out.”

“Right, I know what I’m doing…” Fabrian said, trying to convince herself.  “I know what I’m doing.”