2407 Diori 10, Reshpe

Kymalin tucked her arms to herself, keeping the jitters at bay. Around her sat six other soldiers under the same training division under Raena. It had been ages since Kymalin stepped foot outside the camp and seeing real trees with leaves rustling with the breezes felt so damn foreign. She scanned her companions' faces, looking for hints of wonder or unease. All she saw were passive stares and frowns, like they all just couldn't wait to get it over with.

The dagrine pulling their cart neighed and whine. Filnar, the half-blood soldier in charge of the transportation, cracked his whip. The animal quietned and focused on trodding along the well-worn path through the forests between Zoriago and Ansevir.

Kymalin blew a breath, hot air misting in front of her face due to the humid atmoshpere from being so close to the ocean. Unlike the cold drafts whistling through the undergrowth in the forests of Carleon, the forest in Desara felt like it was burning. The smell of sand and upturned silt mixed in her nose, almost confusing her. No wonder the dagrine felt skittish. Its poor hooves must hurt from stepping on mobile ground for so long.

Raena sat in the edge of the caravan, eyes darting here and there for any sign of ambush hiding in the trees or passing by alongside them on the road. The reasoning was there might be local forces on the lookout for strange, unauthorized carriages passing through their territory. With Raena watching each and every movement in the vastspace around them, she might be able to warn them to conceal their weapons and act like merchants shuold an inspection be due.

It's something that didn't make sense for Kymalin. If they were an organization focused on building armies and stuff, why would they need to conduct their business in the shadows and mask their movements as something else? She opened her mouth to ask Raena that but closed it again. The trainer would most likely snap at her to focus instead of giving a concrete answer.

Kymalin had learned that the hard way when it came to the Magistrates—the division heads in Cardovia. They were also inside the Heiress' close circle and she treats them a little bit differently than the rest of the soldiers in the camp. Raena was the Magistrate in charge of training new recruits and leading them in select missions.

Like this one.

When she first heard the news, Kymalin couldn't decide if she was to feel elated that she was finally getting out of camp and being assigned with a task that didn't involve mixing fairy potions in time for dinner or if she was to feel dread about what she would be expected to do. Raena hadn't told her much about this mission except for an advice to not let her hair loose when stuck in battle.

"You have freakishly long hair so if you want to keep that on your head, best to tie it back every time we go out," Raena had said. Then, she proceeded on pummeling Kymalin with her short but sharp sword.

The memory left a bitter aftertaste at the back of her tongue as her hand flew up to the back of her head. Her fingers felt the intricate grooves and curves of the braid Sylra, the resident hair stylist and wardrobe master, had weaved her hair into. It's been a year since she yelled rude things in front of the Ventora estate and she still haven't been able to defeat the Magistrate in a fair sparring session. It seemed like every year, Raena kept getting better and better at using her swords and Kymalin got worse and worse. Talk about unfair.

A frown pulled on Kymalin's lips as her eyes brushed on the flecks of sand sticking at the scratchy sleeve of the tunic she wore. She brushed it off with a sigh. When they emerged from camp at dawn yesterday, Kymalin's jaw almost fell with the sight of the sun rising from the distance, the beach and the ocean catching the meager rays and reflecting them in their own ways, making up the elaborate scene. Had she been that close to a picturesque scene all this time?

And now, four days into the journey, they have crossed the border between Desara and Dwanzeig without any commotion. Still, Raena haven't told any of the soldiers about what they're about to do or where they were going. Kymalin tightened her crossed arms. Well, if they're not going to tell her anything, she wouldn't tell them something either.

Because in the while Kymalin spent in the camp, she had come across several curious things one might attribute to chance or speculation. Some missing ingredients for fairy potion brews, mounds of earth being upturned in weird spaces among the tents, even the brief flickering of the sky at random times during the day and, sometimes, even during the night. Kymalin also heard reports of several possessions from other soldiers going missing. It was small enough to be on guard of their stuff but not big enough to start accusing each other of being a thief.

If anything, Kymalin thought the whole ordeal to be strange. Still, compounded with the bustle of activity around the camp, the schedules of training, and now the arrival of mission assignments, Kymalin hadn't spared those incident much thought than they required.

The wheels creaked with every bump they encountered on the road. Kymalin bit down on her inside of her cheek to keep from groaning when the most recent bump sent her rear slapping the caravan bench under her. Damned bumps and damned hard bench. The other soldiers, dressed in their thick leather armor and weapons of choice, barely flinched from the bumps. Raena, certainly, hadn't budged from her place. Was it because their legs were so far apart? Was that why they insisted on sitting like that?

Kymalin was about to tear her eyes away from her comrades she didn't even knew the names of and into the boring forest scene rolling by outside when Raena cleared her throat. Her eyes, bless the heavens, had finally moved away from the trees and into her team.

"Listen up," she started. Her voice was a mixture of authority and friendliness. "We're almost to the Thenaserine outpost for goods from Dwanzeig. That's our target. We should prevent them from reaching Rabante in Helinfirth and take some for ourselves. After all, we need to feed the camp and secure some trade relations with the ministers present in the outpost."

Nobody spoke up. Kymalin's mind whirled with the explanation of the mission. Shouldn't they get maps or something? They might get lost when they get there.

"Don't worry about not seeing the place beforehand," Raena continued, almost in response to Kymalin's thoughts. "The trading outposts are a set of warehouses of goods that Lanteglos controls. Its main duty is to take in the goods, utilize other merchant caravans travelling to the northern and western territories, and profit a lot out of it."

Kymalin arched an eyebrow. That bit's actually genius.

Raena leaned her elbows against her knees as she sat forward. "Our goal is to capture one of those warehouses and have them ship their goods to Zoriago. Under layered transactions, of course, to prevent outside eyes from catching onto us," she nodded to the three soldiers sitting beside her in their aisle. "You three will focus on securing our way in and out of the place. There is only one opening and it's not hard to navigate. You three," she jerked her chin at Kymalin and the other soldiers next to her. "Will be with me."

Kymalin raised a finger. Raena's eyes flashed with the challenge but nodded to her. "What would we be doing?" Kymalin asked, her voice sounding weird in her ears the moment it fled out of her lips.

"Glad you asked," Raena grinned. "We will be storming the warehouses and getting everything we could back to Cardovia."

"Yeah," Kymalin scratched the back of her neck. The fur lining of her custom-made leather breastplate brushing against her palm. "But how are we going to do that?"

Raena didn't look too thrilled about that question. "Use your training," she said flatly. "It's what we're here for. I don't care how you do your job as long as you get it done."

Kymalin forced more questions down her throat. It was a little bit too much to conceptualize especially when she hasn't even seen the place they're about to rob. Not even once. Thinking on one's feet seemed to be Raena's method of training. It wasn't exactly Kymalin's style. She preferred a manual. Or a step-by-step guide in capturing warehouses and halting shipping lines.

Of course, with life being unfair and all, those two things didn't exist and most probably wouldn't in her lifetime. Perhaps, she could write one? She clicked her tongue, earning her weird looks from Raena and the other soldiers. Forget it.

They rode some more for the next few hours. Then, Kymalin was being shaken awake and the caravan erupting into a flurry of movements and slogging footsteps. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, cursing herself for allowing herself to be this careless, and ducked out of the caravan.

For the first time today, she saw Filnar, his black eyepatch matching his dark locks and his dark trousers. "Go and knock 'em dead, princess," he nodded to Raena who didn't look too impressed to be called that. "Avraja."

"Better learn to keep your teeth in your gums because I'm coming for you for calling me that," Raena smirked and drew one of her swords sheathed at either side of her hips. "Avraja. Wait by the riverbank. We'll catch up with the goods."

Filnar nodded and, urging the dagrine pulling the caravan, rode off. Kymalin blew a breath and stretched her tense muscles. The noise of more wheels slapping the cobbled roads caught her attention. She turned to see a bustling city behind her. Their ride had dropped them off in the rim of an active town. Raena said something about a riverbank. When and where had they passed one on the way here?

The forest made way around the town where the warehouses were located. Soldiers clad in red coats and fitted with long, thin swords paraded the roads, standing apart from the crowd wearing somber colors like khaki, beige, brown, and off-white. From what Kymalin could glean from the hushed whispers of the people around her, they were called Red Coats or, if one wanted to be technical, Unities.

Their group didn't look out of place in the crowd as their leather armor fit right into a horde of men and women drinking ale in taverns, shopping for weapons in nearby smith shops, and buying pastries from several bakeries. Kymalin pursed her lips as she lowered her vision into the soul dimension and observed various souls glow and flicker for attention. Obvious races like the Air Sprites, with their feathery wings and raised chins, she passed by with her analyses. They didn't need more validation that they're indeed members of the favored Imperial Race.

Instead, Kymalin studied the more subtle ones: brownies, pixies, nature fairies, humans, as well as half-bloods, no matter how well they conceal themselves to appear like a full-blooded fairy. She would guess a stranger's race in her mind before checking their souls to see if she was correct. It was always a fun game to play with herself should she get stuck in a crowded place with nothing to pass the time.

As they walked, two-story buildings made rom either planks of wood, quarries of stone, or bricks pasted together whizzed by, their shadows casting over the dusty, cobblestones as the day wore on. The scent of manure, burning oil, and sweat was thick in the air, making Kymalin tuck her nose to the crook of her arm.

Then, with Raena in the lead, they turned one alley and Kymalin got what the Magistrate was saying about the warehouses having one entrance and exit points. The alley was wide enough to fit four merchant caravans side by side and with enough space to provide sidewalks on their side of the road. It stopped at a dead end, mostly because it led straight into one of the widest buildings in this town Kymalin had ever seen.

True enough, rows upon rows of merchant carts were parked inside the large building and even in meager lines outside it. Raena turned to the other three soldiers and nodded. They tore off from the main group. Without being prompted with a nod, Kymalin stepped closer to Raena as they began to move through the crowd.

Compared to the bustle which greeted them earlier before entering Thenaserine, the crowd in this place was tamer and quieter. Most of them were merchants dressed in colorful robes and fancy turbans and headgear Kymalin wasn't familiar with. Raena led them past whining dagrinis, paulsaris, and kraejenis, each more impatient for their owners to get them out of here than the last.

Finally, they made it inside the wide building. Kymalin watched the building's gates folded close to the frame. The inside of the building smelled even worse with the aftereffects of rotten food and spoiled milk riding with the air from the outside. Dear Pidmena. This was going to be the death of her.

Raena crept forward. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword, its thin blade almost unnoticeable in the haze of activity. Now, Kymalin understood why the Magistrate insisted on using such swords. One couldn't exactly sneak a broad longsword in places like this.

Kymalin, along with the other three soldiers assigned with her, followed in Raena's footsteps, their soles crunching against dried hay and bits and pieces of ivory. Looked a lot like bones. From which creature? Kymalin wasn't inclined to know.

The warehouses came into view, then. They looked more like huge stables filled with crates upon crates of resources, be it food, water, lumber, or even upholstery. At some warehouses that weren't barred with locked gates, Kymalin even spotted the glint of gemstones, golden articles, and gilded weapons. More than once, she heard the clink of versallis being passed patrons dressed in elaborate textiles to errand people tending to the warehouses. From the sound of it, they ranged from kalta dryde to the heftier kalta selme. That's a lot of grena in one's lifetime.

What was it that they're doing here, really?

Raena didn't appear to be bothered by any of the transactions happening around her and just continued to her target warehouse. When they got there, it was filled to the brim with crates, vats, and sacks. That's more than enough to last the camp another half a month. Which meant Kymalin might be sent into more and more missions like this.

With a nod from Raena, they scattered into the warehouse and began checking the goods. After a few seconds, a hissing sound caught Kymalin's ears as one of the soldiers opened a shadow portal to the inventory office back at camp. Then, after exchanging looks, they began tossing their loot into the swirling mass of shadows and magic.

Kymalin's heart pounded in her chest as she helped her comrades load more and more goods into the portal. Engaging in shadow spells was something Kymalin have yet to learn since she hasn't gotten around to it with Raena breathing down her neck with her hand-to-hand and weaponry combat training. Such a shame, really.

"Hey! You are not authorized to access this warehouse!" a voice shouted from the warehouse's opening. Kymalin heard her comrades curse and begin throwing the crates faster into the portal. She matched their speed. She was about to deposit the sack of flour she wrestled off its stack when light surged towards her. It wasn't the soft light she had gotten used to sleeping under back at camp.

Holy Pidmena. It's a spell.

Before Kymalin could move, the spell crashed into her.