When there was still no sign of commander Karyk, it put Farren in a reasonably bad mood. It seemed as though she had injured herself for nothing, other than exploiting Lord Atruer's deal and causing him annoyance --which in other times Farren would have rejoiced, but now she needed answers.

At the very least, if she could have a look at the contents of the package, it would've soothed the stinging in her leg left by the intensive healing. And Klo seemed to have guessed her motives perfectly, because the sergeant let her nowhere near it, and Rendarr carried it around instead.

"As much as we adore you," she'd said, and Rendarr nodded, "we cannot really trust you with this."

Now that she came to think of it, she had almost forgotten about her own package she had received from her brother. Farren placed it on the table, beside her bowl of cold stew. She was the last to reach the mess hall for lunch, and it was all that was left.

She sat alone at the long wooden table as the cook finished cleaning up the counter.

Something soft and warm pressed up against her legs. She glanced down to see Pickle, a tabby cat their cook had rescued last winter. Kinallen's ground might be cold and hard, but the hearts of the young soldiers were not. Pickle had managed to exploit exactly that, and had achieved the bulk of a sizable pillow in no time.

Pickle nudged her leg with his head, purring softly.

As she fished in her stew for scraps of dried meat to give him, Rendarr sank into the seat next to her with a sigh, tiredly dropping the commander's package beside hers.

The packaging was similar. Paper-wrapped, both came in standard-sized thin-walled wooden boxes manufactured by the Dark Saints at the capital city, Byton. The only difference was Rodormann's seal, whereas Farren's package had her elder brother's name and address scrawled across one corner. Quite similar indeed.

Giving Rendarr a side-eyed glance, Farren slowly reached out, using one finger to push her own parcel towards him, and sliding the other one towards her. The switching has to be subtle. Farren tried to mask her movement by bending down and feeding pickle the meat scraps. Almost there-

"Do you take me for a fool?" Rendarr said, batting her hand away.

"Sort of," said Farren. Pickle's happy trilling as he gobbled up the meat scraps punctuated the taut silence between them.

"I found it, alright?" said Farren at last.

"Because I tripped on it," said Rendarr.

"Neither of which are good enough reasons to pry open a package addressed to somebody else, morons," said Karles, a sergeant of the archer squads as he slid into the bench opposite them. Followed by Karles, strode in several marksmen returning from their round at the village, armed with longbows, quivers slung over their shoulders.

Karles unclasped his cloak, tossed it onto the table and ran a tired hand through his mussed brown hair and sighed, like an exhausted parent whose kids wouldn't stop getting in trouble.

A couple years older than Rendarr, Farren and Klo; Karles had watched over the three when they'd first arrived in Kinallen, much like how Farren now did for Helmer.

"Look," he now said to Farren, "you could get fired for this. Alright? So stop this nonsense. Unless you can figure out some way to keep the seal intact after you're done tampering with it. Then you probably won't get caught. I recommend wax-"

"Don't you encourage her!" hissed Klo, who had come up behind him at that moment. "Anyway, Lieutenant Evander is coming in a moment. Pipe down, you lot."

Farren fell silent at that and promptly pulled her hands free from the parcel. The lieutenant was coming. Angering him was the last thing Farren wanted to do. He had already faced quite a backlash for allowing someone like her to enroll in the Midaelian ranks; she did not want to trouble him more. She would be invisible, pretend she weren't there.

But it was not going to be easy.

"So this is the fabled 'mysterious parcel' I've been hearing about all morning." A pair of hands snatched the package from in front of her eyes.

Alastair Henris, a corporal from among the archers stood there, examining the object in his hands with glee in his golden eyes. "Doesn't look like much to me."

"Give it back, Alastair," Farren said quietly.

Alastair swung his head toward her with a sneer, as though noticing her only now.

He was decidedly handsome, his chestnut hair carefully groomed in a way that was expected of the noble youth of Byton. A yew longbow, carved by the capital's best bowmaker was slung on his cloaked shoulder; his uniform, spotless with no signs of wear-- to no one's surprise. For he was expected to stay in Kinallen only for a few months; after which he would be getting a cosy posting at the heart of the kingdom, with strings to pull him up the steps all the way.

"Hey, Sergeant Wolturs," Alastair turned to Klo with a grin, "I would keep this package away from this thief if I were you. Don't you perhaps consider locking her up?"

Klo seized the package from his hands. "The day when you have 'captain' before your name is the day I would take orders from you."

"Soon." He gave them a toothy smile.

"But do pardon me," he added, giving Farren a mock, apologetic smile, eyes on her scarred arm. "I was not aware we had agreed to pretend the mark isn't there because you scratched it up a bit."

Farren wrenched herself away from the group. He'd done the same to her before when he first arrived, and she'd broken his nose. But the Henris, one of the most powerful noble families of Byton, were not to be messed with.

She had not been paid for three months after that.

"Cowering away, Clearstrike?" said Alastair, "why, barely a few months ago you were scoffing and barking, like the street dog you are. Ah, I miss that."

Farren said nothing, biting back her reply. The lieutenant would be here any moment. She did not want to make trouble.

"Out of my sight. Now." Karles got to his feet, his eyes narrowed. A vein stood up taut on his forehead. "This is an order, Henris."

"Of course, sir." With a curt nod, he strode away.

"Why the healers waste their powers to keep you resistants alive in battles, I will never understand," Alastair added as he swept past Farren, "mutant freak."

The next moment, two things happened at once.

Rendarr lunged at him. Seizing a fistful of his cloak, he slammed his knuckles against Alastair's face; at the same time, someone else stepped in between, yelling. The punch landed on a wrong face.

"Stop it, both of you!" said an archer with dark-blond hair who had forced his way between them. He pressed his sleeve against his bloody nose. "The new recruits are watching."

True enough, everyone's eyes were on them.

Alastair, who stood perplexed, stretched out one hand to grip the table and steadied himself. He looked at the dark-blond haired archer. "You alright, Dion?"

"I'm fine," said Dion Edsley, the only one who ever seemed to get along with Alastair. He was a noble-born as well, but that was where the similarities ended. He was nothing like Alastair.

"You'll pay for this," Alastair said, jabbing a finger at Rendarr's chest.

"No. You started this." Dion shoved his hand away from Rendarr, fixing Alastair with an indignant stare. Blood still trickled from his nose. A bruise had begun to form there. Alastair looked away, guilt evident on his face.

"By Rhilio, how long are you going to keep this up?" said Dion, "stop behaving like a spoiled brat."

Alastair scoffed. "You here to lecture me?"

"No," said Dion, "that's pointless. I just want you to shut up, because Lieutenant Evander is headed this way."

The next moment, the man in question strode in through the doorway.

"What's going on here?"

His stern eyes fell at first Dion's bloody nose, then on Farren, who happened to be in the midst of the commotion, who had become a part of the trouble against her will.

She grimaced. So much for remaining invisible.

✦✧✦✧

Lieutenant Evander was from Brihurst Isles, his dark brown skin was weather-worn, his iron coloured hair streaked with grey.

The look that crossed his face upon seeing Farren was neither anger, nor annoyance, but plain disappointment. From the time he had approached her at the streets of Byton with his offer, to the present day, that's all she had been: a disappointment.

Farren would promise herself, time and again, that she would not get in trouble, give no one another chance to point fingers at her, be better altogether.

Yet in the end, she would find herself sneaking off to the capital city again, escaping into a high from poisons the dealers of the lower districts had to offer, waking up in a stranger's bed-- or simply whiling away with a pint of ale at the Olde Weasel. Falling into the same dysfunctional patterns she tried to escape.

But today it was not her fault.

"Sir--" she began.

"Save your breath. I've seen enough," he said, his voice quiet and ice cold. Lieutenant Evander never shouted at anyone. He strode to the table where Klo stood, and picked the package from the table.

The archers dispersed, along with Alastair and Dion. Farren slowly made her way to stand behind Klo in silence, drawing her cloak about herself.

"Well," said Lieutenant Evander, setting the package aside,"this has been going on for a while with commander Karyk. He's been visiting Valston often lately. Thought I'd disclose this to you later, but the situation compels me to do otherwise. It all started after your commander returned from the meeting with the Council."

"Ah, that one in Drisia six months ago?" Karles asked.

"This year's meeting took place there, aye. Commander Karyk was to accompany the representative of Midaelia there," said Evander, "Royal Sorcerer Marches from King Forthwind's Court."

"Something unusual must've happened there, I assume," said Klo.

Lieutenant Evander's expression darkened. His eyes darted to check their surroundings, then stopped to stare at his folded hands on the table. "Unusual...yes. That could be the word for it."

"Do you know what happened at the meeting, sir?" Karles asked.

"Ah, regular stuff, redundant discussions, Dark Saints representatives blabbering about their policies and whatnot. Like every year. Glad I wasn't there," said Evander, "but the inexplicable happened outside of the meeting hall, as says our commander."

The four surrounding him leaned closer.

"Outside the meeting hall, Commander Karyk met someone he killed in the battle of Brihurst Isles five years ago."