⚠️ Warnings apply (You can find the warnings in the Before we get started chapter)

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The Information Unit had long since relocated from the Southern encampment. It was too close to Tarkon's border with Hecatite, and after a major attack on the camp, the Council finally accepted General Meixong's request to move. Nagan honestly didn't know how Meixong did it—as far as he knew, Meixong was still in Froshrinra and didn't actually threaten the Council up close—but soon enough, they received the orders to evacuate over the Froshrinese borders.

Every few months they would move between camps, and while it was tiring, Nagan continued to be amazed at how different each region was, from the wintery north to the tropical south. It wasn't until near the end of the year did the Council give them a more permanent location just within Froshrinra's borders with some of the best defenses one could ask for. A couple months later, Meixong officially rejoined them.

It was a fortress built amongst the mountains, high enough to see over the peaks, but not high enough for altitude sickness to kick in. Thick walls surrounded them, and the dragons kept to the sides. The one thing that took getting used to was the stairs. There were so many stairs! During the day, the main level at the bottom was turned into the hub of the fortress, as it was the largest area with rooms carved into the rock. Most of the officers were located at the hub, almost every room occupied by them while the rest were filled with supplies.

The only exception to this was General Meixong, who took the level above; an area half the size of the one below. It was there where most, if not all of their information was stored. It was also easily the most warded area of the entire fortress, and there was an unspoken rule that everyone was to hide up there if they were attacked, not only to protect the precious documents within but to keep themselves safe. General Meixong, meanwhile, sat at the end of the courtyard as the rest of the rooms were used as storage.

The more minor officers, meanwhile, took the third floor. It was probably the least used floor since most of those officers, from lieutenants to a couple captains, were usually sent off on missions. Not that Nagan had an office of his own—he was still treated as a sergeant—but the lieutenant he commonly worked with, Darro Faen, did. There were occasions when he would invite Nagan to help him sort through requests and reports, but more often than not, Darro wanted to work alone and without distractions. Nagan didn't complain; he didn't like paperwork, anyway.

What he did complain about, however, was the fact that the barracks were on the top level of the fortress. Or levels. Nagan wasn't sure if he could call it a level at all since most of the rooms assigned as barracks or common areas were further back into the stone. Nagan did not pity the pagers as they ran up and down the stairs, summoning different people to different levels. It came to the point where being a pager for a select period of time became a common punishment, one that Meixong took great enjoyment in assigning.

There was one time when Nagan got to witness this punishment being handed out, and he could've sworn one of the soldiers requested the alternative: ten lashes. At first, Nagan scoffed at it, having felt a whip on his back before.

And then Nagan got into a fight. Admittingly, it was for something minor, but he and the other soldier had been butting heads for weeks before that. Judgment was swift, and Meixong gave them a week of page duty with the same amused look they gave the others. By the end of it, he was ready to beg for a quicker punishment as well. Yeah, whips hurt like hell, but it wasn't as if they hit them hard enough to temporarily disable them as the stairs did.

Yet Nagan still found himself climbing up the stairs to the tallest part of the fortress. Crystal torches lined the walls, giving off a soft, fading light. The crystals were replaced less often, he noticed, since not many cared to venture up here. And that's why he liked it up here. For being the most secluded, it was also the quietest. Perhaps tomorrow he would grab a handful of light crystals and replace them himself.

He let out a breath of relief when he reached the top, standing at the end of a mostly empty room. The room had been carved in an almost irregular shape, its walls rounded and uneven. The ceiling was domed rather than flat except for the edge that held a few vent holes drilled through the wall to the outside, letting in a constant stream of air. When the wind was strong enough, he could sometimes hear it almost whistle an odd chord. Just below it sat a window, embedded into stone and framed with metal.

Once he caught his breath, Nagan went to stand before the window, looking up at the latch that sat at the top. It was too high up for most to reach—a safety precaution—but that wasn't a problem for a caster with just the right incantation. The latch clicked, and the window swung slightly inward, pushed from the wind outside.

Opening the window wider, Nagan leaned out, bracing his hands on the ledge. The wind tousled his hair and rushed past his ears, but it wasn't so windy that it would push him around. He looked at the ledge below before hopping onto the sill, nimbly sliding down to it. He quickly sat down, tucking his legs under him before a stray gust of wind could threaten his balance. The ledge was wide enough for him to sit comfortably, but if he stretched his legs out in front of him, his feet would be hanging off the mountain's edge.

He then leaned to the side, a hand braced below him, as he gazed down the sides. It took a moment, but his eyes caught the matte black scales of Ravi, scales that glistened a deep, pearlescent purple when the light hit them just right. From the height, he could almost see the flashes of the lighter purple scales she had yet to lose.

Ravi, he whispered in his mind, reaching out gently through their connection. If she was asleep, he didn't want to startle her.

She lifted her head, and he felt the stray strings of alarm run through the connection as she looked around for him, but those strings disappeared when she looked up, her pupils narrowing in attention. When she recognized he wasn't in any danger, however, she calmed.

Are you alright? She asked. Isn't it a bit windy tonight?

I couldn't go back to sleep. And it's not too windy, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm up here.

If he were closer to her, he might have heard her huff. If you say so. Be careful.

He sent a wave of reassurance and confirmation before closing the connection. Just because he couldn't sleep didn't mean he had to keep her up as well. He then leaned back, letting his head loll onto the rock behind him, jagged and almost too sharp. On a normal day, he would find it uncomfortable, but at the moment it was grounding and almost comforting. It took his mind off of why he was here in the first place.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the first floor of the fortress—or whatever stuck out beyond the rocks. He could see the lights from the braziers that lined the walls, shadows of the nightwatch temporarily blotting them out as they passed. The wind was too loud tonight, but on a normal night, he would be able to hear the beating of wings as dragons flew overhead to aid the watch. General Meixong had told him to stop sitting up here, but it was more of a suggestion rather than a demand. If the nightwatch had spotted him, he hadn't gotten any word from Ravi saying another dragon was asked to have her confirm that it was her rider sitting on the ledge. Either that, or the poor sod they sent up to confirm hadn't reached him yet—

"Nagan."

Nagan jolted and looked up, only to see a familiar, blank face; the last face he expected to see here. His light brown hair had grown longer since the last time they spoke, and it almost blew into his blue eyes. But as blank as his face remained, Nagan could still see the familiarity in his eyes.

"Qentor!" Nagan jumped up, grabbing the window ledge to stabilize himself. Qentor's eyes momentarily flew wider as he grabbed onto Nagan as well. The other then let out a slight huff as if he was silently scolding him for moving recklessly. Nagan almost rolled his eyes. "I know what I'm doing, don't worry."

Still holding onto Nagan's arm, Qentor tugged on it, prompting him back inside. Nagan almost protested, saying he was fine where he was, but when Qentor's tugging became more insistent, Nagan relented. Qentor nearly pulled him through the window as he crawled back up, his grip tight as if he was afraid Nagan would fall if he let go, but when Nagan was—finally—safely inside, his grip didn't release. Instead, he continued to evaluate Nagan, his brow minutely pinched in concern.

"Why were you there?" Qentor asked, his voice low and soft from underuse. "They were looking at you, and I came up to check."

'They,' assuming the nightwatch, Nagan was sure. "I come up here to think sometimes. It's just...quieter than the rest of the fortress. They usually ask another dragon to ask Ravi to ask me if it's really me sitting up here since they can't really confirm my face. Not that anyone else could sneak in this way, though. There's no other way to get to that ledge beside the window.

"You...go out there often?"

"I mean, not often. Just sometimes. As I said, I come up here to think and clear my head." That was when a thought occurred to him, and Nagan blinked in surprise. Qentor was still holding onto him as if his life depended on it. He glanced at the still-open window. "What...did you think I was doing up here?"

Qentor didn't reply, confirming that what Nagan was thinking was correct. Feeling the need to reassure the other, he pushed the window nearly closed with his free arm, leaving it wide enough to let air in but not wide enough for a person to slip through.

"Sorry," Nagan said. "No, I...wasn't going to do that. I promise. I even told Ravi that I was up there in case the wind got too strong." Another wave of guilt passed over him as Qentor's grip remained the same. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Only then did Qentor sigh, finally letting his hand fall away. Nagan could feel the blood rush back into his arm.

"Sorry," Nagan said again, crossing his arms before leaning his shoulder against the wall. "What are you doing at the fortress anyway? And so late. Did you just get here?"

Qentor tilted his head and glanced away, giving a small half-shrug.

"Then...you arrived earlier—" Nagan received a nod, "—and you just got done with whatever you had to do and were off to bed—" Another nod, "—when...a guard asked you to check if it was me?" A head shake. "You saw me yourself and went to check if I was ok?"

Nagan was awarded two nods, and he couldn't help but grin at figuring it out. He had gotten a few pointers from Wyvet on how to communicate with Qentor a while back, and he was glad to execute them. He might as well make an effort towards it since Qentor had been nothing but kind—if not impassive—to him from the start and even gave him Professor Fai's sword and cloak before anyone else.

It'll take a bit getting used to, he remembered Wyvet saying, and it's a lot of guessing as you figure out his line of thought. He's struggling, too, as he figures out yours. Either way, once you get it, you get it. Does that make sense?

Qentor then shut the window, but he didn't latch it—he didn't know it was there—before leaning against the window, physically blocking Nagan from accessing it. Him sitting out on the ledge must've shaken the other up more than he realized, Nagan thought, so he said nothing of it. That was when Qentor cleared his throat.

"Tell me why you're here?" Qentor accompanied this by pointing towards the upper part of the window. It took a moment for Nagan to figure out that Qentor was actually pointing to the sky. Nagan looked to the side as he shrugged.

"Couldn't sleep." A pause, but Qentor waited for him to elaborate. "I...had a nightmare. I mean, it's not like they don't happen, it just...it was me." Nagan drew his arms tighter around him. "It didn't even start off all that bad. I was just walking down this long hallway—it didn't have an end, but that wasn't what got me—and then I was being attacked. At first, it wasn't someone I knew, so I killed them, but then it...shifted to Az. I was then back at the reservoir, and..." Nagan took in a shaky breath. "Something grabbed my back, and that's what woke me up."

Qentor reached forward, ruffling Nagan's hair as he nodded, signaling that he didn't need Nagan to say anything else. He'd answered his question. Admittingly, Nagan was relieved at that. He really didn't want to say anything more about his dream. Nagan then ducked away from Qentor's hand, letting out a small, humorless chuckle.

"You know, Az was just talking to me about going home. And honestly? If things weren't so bad out here, I would. He said something about readjusting back to normal life, but...this kinda is my normal, you know?" Nagan shrugged again, risking a glance at Qentor who only listened attentively. "Or at least, it was always going to be this. I started my career as a caster, thinking it was the coolest, and then I added combat expert since it was the one I could catch up with the easiest and caster wasn't challenging enough at the time. I was meant to be in the army from the start. I don't resent Master Dagmire for prompting me to choose that, though. No one—no one expected me to give the Codex to him."

Nagan clenched his fists as he nearly spat the last part out, but they released soon after as a wave of fatigue washed over him. Just because he couldn't go back to sleep didn't mean he didn't feel tired. Qentor laid a comforting hand on Nagan's shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

"Meixong isn't keeping you here. No one will oppose them if they release you."

"This is my war. I should finish what I started," Nagan said, the fatigue he felt seeping into his voice. "What happens once this war is over, I don't know, but I guess I'll figure that out when the time comes. Until then, it's best I stay here."

While Qentor was usually stunted when it came to words, he truly didn't know what to say to that. So he did as he usually did: he said nothing. Instead, he gave Nagan one final squeeze before nudging him towards the stairs.

Nagan huffed out a laugh. "Are you telling me to go to bed?"

"Try."

"Alright, I'll try." Nagan pulled away, a small, rueful smile on his face, but he didn't meet Qentor's eyes. "Only for you, Qentor."

Qentor hummed in reply.

They walked down the stairs, winding through hallways and doorways. With all the twists and turns, some may think it was confusing, but in reality, there were rarely any offshoots this high up. As long as they followed the most obvious path, it was easy to get back somewhere recognizable.

Nagan stopped just before his barrack door, turning back to face Qentor who had followed him.

"Thanks, by the way," he said. "For listening to me up there. It really helped me think through a few things that've been on my mind recently."

Qentor gave him a small, rare smile as he ruffled Nagan's hair again. It wasn't as if it could get any worse after waking up with it and then sitting on a windy ledge. With a single wave, Qentor walked past him and continued down the hall, disappearing around a corner shortly after. Nagan's eyes lingered in that direction before he slipped back inside the barrack.

•_____________________________•

Ok, it's time to go to bed, now.

But I already started another chapter—

No.

But it's half way—

Shhhh...Go to sleep.

— a conversation with myself.