The Vice Captain’s face was etched vividly in Erith’s mind. A man whose presentation was his pride—yet in that moment, the night before, Erith had seen him clearly. Stripped of any facade he could muster, Maeric had faced an awakening. Blown back by the ripple, his composure shattered, he lay helpless, forced into a raw confrontation with the unknown. And above stood Erith, the source of that unknowable force.

Was it wonder, or wariness, Maeric? Erith could feel a bead of sweat tracing down between his brows. He opened his eyes, the oppressive heat of the firepits pressing against his skin. Shifting his weight off the broom, he began sweeping the ash with care, each stroke taken with caution to avoid overexerting his recovering body.

Erith walked the firepits, testing the sturdiness of the mesh as he eyed the next cart of sifted ground and vegetation being loaded onto the front of the line. His ears perked as he heard the unmistakable grandness of Maeric’s voice carrying through the air, brimming with familiar confidence.

“Ah, Erith was it? Yes, I’ve been informed that you’ve recently taken over the firepits. Sandin has spoken highly of your work—the lines have remained quick and clean. Admirable praise, coming from Sandin.” Maeric stood beside an officer with long blonde hair on top and closely shaved sides. The man was shorter than Maeric with a thin face and a quiet confidence that matched the Vice Captain’s presence.

The officer glanced expectantly toward Maeric to break the brief pause. “Of course. Rin and I were finishing our rounds and were heading for a meal before we wind the camp down for the night. Would you care to join us?”

Erith glanced down, brushing a bit of ash from his pant leg. After a moment, he wiped his brow and with a quizzical expression, he nodded. “Sure…”

Catching Maeric’s raised eyebrow, Erith added with half-hearted enthusiasm, “That would be a great honor, Vice Captain.” The officer’s lips curved into a brief smile, amused by Erith’s forced display of enthusiasm.

“Wonderful. Finish up here and meet us by the officers’ tent in half an hour. And perhaps consider a bucket of water for that ash?” Maeric added, gesturing toward Erith’s soot-covered shirt with a teasing smirk. The officer and Maeric continued their conversation as they walked toward the refinery.

Erith finished his work around the firepit, pausing as his eyes settled on a nearby bucket of water. With a sigh, he peeled off his shirt and doused himself. Brushing away the last traces of ash from his pants, he returned to his tent to grab a clean shirt.

Maeric and the officer stood outside the tent entrance, gazing out among the sifters eating nearby the meal tent against the dimming sun. As Erith approached, Maeric nodded and walked a few paces to meet him. 

“So glad you could join us, Erith. Please, let’s sit down.” Maeric spoke enthusiastically, giving a warm smile to Erith. He glanced toward the meal tent, catching the eye of a sifter. The man gave a nod in return, then began gathering bowls from the tent.

The three entered the officers’ tent, where a thick haze of pipe smoke hung in the air, stinging Erith’s nose and eyes. Several tables filled the space, occupied by officers engrossed in eating, smoking from pipes, and sipping wine. Erith spotted Sandin’s familiar gaunt face, his sharp eyes focused on a set of playing cards as he studied the officer seated across from him.

As Maeric stepped inside, the lively commotion abruptly ceased. Boots clambered against the dirt as officers scrambled to their feet. 

“Now, now, gentlemen,” Maeric began, waving a hand dismissively. “Enjoy yourselves, back to business.”

The three took a table near the back, close to a few stacked crates of wine. As they settled into their seats, two sifters entered, placing bowls of hearty stew and a plate of pickled vegetables onto the table. One of the sifters carefully poured wine into three glasses before retreating with a nod.

“You don’t need to wait for Maeric’s blessing.” The officer inched the plate of pickled vegetables towards Erith. “Go ahead, try some.”

Erith glanced toward Maeric, who offered a small, approving nod.

“I’ll spare you Maeric’s grandiose introduction,” the officer added with a smirk. “Leorin Varsk—but just call me ‘Rin.’”

“Were you an Academy recruit?” Rin asked, watching as Erith took a sip of stew.

Erith nodded, swallowing quickly before replying,  “And you?”

“We both were.” Amusement was dancing in Rin’s voice. “The Captain thought it best for his son to mingle with the other ‘to-be’ officers. The intent was sound, and the plan might have worked—if the Captain had a different son.”

Rin leaned back slightly, his smirk deepening. “Our fearless Vice Captain wasn’t exactly popular—not with the students, the teachers, or anyone for that matter. They used to call him ‘Hysteric Maeric’. Hell, the teachers called him that too. They’d avoid him like the Murasi. Lucky for me, though, in his self-inflicted solitude, he had a knack for picking up strays.” He shot a meaningful glance at Maeric. “He found me on the streets and brought me to the Academy and I helped him turn that intensity into inspiration.”

“Rin, I appreciate you painting such a vivid picture of how unpopular I was for our guest,” Maeric interjected, his tone laced with mock exasperation.

Rin crossed his arms and gave a teasing smile towards Maeric before turning his attention back to Erith. “So, how’d you end up at the Academy? I can’t seem to remember your face around, but with the place being so sprawling…”

With his spoon filled with the last bit of broth in his stew, Erith glanced up to meet Rin’s curious expression. “I was only there for a year before I started sifting with the Pining Frost. That was... maybe four years ago.”

“That’s a long time to be a stray”, Rin mused, “and a very short time to find yourself in the Pining Frost—no wonder you’ve caught the keen attention of our Vice Captain here.”

Erith reached for the glass of wine, sniffing it briefly before taking a large gulp. His eyes widened as the sharp taste hit him, and he let out a muffled cough before managing to swallow. “I’m not sure why you’d want to lug crates of this stuff around.”

“It’s more of a drink you sip,” Maeric chimed in, faint amusement flickering across his face. His gaze slid to Rin’s empty glass. “Not down in one go, like some people seem to think.”

Sunlight pierced through the haze of pipe smoke, and once again, the familiar clamor of boots filled the officers’ tent. Erith instinctively stood, mirroring the officers around him. He turned toward the entrance, squinting slightly against the glare as the figures of the Captain and the Warden approached.

“Sit,” the Captain barked, his voice cutting through the room with an authoritative aura. The tension eased slightly as the officers nervously returned to their conversation.

Erith remained standing alongside Maeric and Rin, their posture stiff as the Captain and the Warden made their way to the table. An officer, almost seamlessly, stepped forward and pulled out two chairs for them. The Captain seated himself, his sharp eyes swept the table before resting on the wine glass in front of Erith.

“Have you told him?” the Captain demanded, his tone crisp.

“I was just about to Captain—” Maeric began steadily.

The Captain cut him off with a sardonic wave of his hand. “I didn’t ask you to bed him, I asked you to inform him.”

Maeric clasped his hands together, leaning back in his chair with a sheepish air around him.

His piercing eyes shifted to Erith. “You will accompany us to the Morvathi Guard’s camp. We trade goods and information with them, and your experience in The Narrows is a valuable commodity.”

The Captain turned briefly to Rin. “You’re coming with us.” Then, motioning toward the Warden, he added, “Garst will oversee the camp while we’re gone.”

His attention returned to Erith. “When we’re in their camp, you will speak only when spoken to. You will give no more information than what is asked of you. Maeric says you’ve taken well to overseeing the firepits. There’s a place for you among the Surelians if you carry this out well…” 

The Captain leaned forward, his voice sharpening with a hard edge. “And a shallow grave if you misstep.”

Erith met the Captain’s stern gaze. “If I disappoint, might I suggest the Vice Captain be the one to put me in that grave?” His eyes shifted briefly to Maeric.  “It would be a good learning experience for him.”

A beat of silence passed around the table. Rin stifled a grin, his eyes teeming with amusement, while Maeric’s appearance turned to a mix of surprise and intrigue.

The Captain rose swiftly from the table. His expression remained unreadable. “We’ll ride in the morning, once the camp settles into work.” With that, the Captain and the Warden left the tent, leaving a quiet tension lingering amongst the three.

Rin stretched, giving Erith a faint grin. “Well, I think I’ll wind down for the evening. Looks like we’ve got a full day ahead of us.” He turned to Erith with a thoughtful demeanor. “I look forward to talking more with you.”

“Tomorrow morning then,” Maeric added with a slight nod.

Rin was the first to leave, disappearing into the smoky air of the tent. As Maeric and Erith stepped outside, Maeric leaned closer to Erith, his voice dropping just enough for Erith to hear. “I hope this little detour doesn’t put a delay on the start of our training.”

Erith looked at Maeric with a teasing glint in his eye. “Not at all. An hour past the last firelight. No need to bring wine—or a bed.”

Maeric let out a quiet chuckle, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I’ll do my best to meet your expectations.”

The two parted ways beneath the dusk sky…