During breakfast the next morning, Astra quickly slid into the seat besides Jemma before anyone else could take it. She flashed a smile at the fire wraith's two companions who stood with their trays in hand... what were their names again? An awkward smile stretched across the male wraith's face while the female clenched her teeth together as she scowled. The dark haired female had been about to set her tray down and had to swing her tray back to prevent it from slamming into Astra. The sudden shift in direction nearly sent the croissant on her plate flying into Astra's face.

"I hope you don't mind..." Astra let the question drift away. Jemma, like she'd expected, immediately defused the situation. She waved her arms amicably.

"Of course not! Here Ciril, sit next to me on this other side. Anja, you can sit next to Calayne." Ciril and Anya, Astra recited to herself silently. Ciril and Anya. There were way too many goddamn names to remember around here.

As Anya set down her tray with a bang, Astra's peripheral vision caught sight of Riviera a distance away, turning away with a scowl. Thank the Seam. Now she only had to avoid the female for the rest of her stay in the army. Riviera moved off to a separate table to sit with the other five members of her ragtag team. Slash that. She'd have to avoid all five of them.

Astra turned back to her tray of breakfast. A small brioche, a baguette, a tiny dish of jam, four slices of peach, and a cup of juice. Auxerre certainly treated its soldiers well. Or at least, the wraiths. She couldn't exactly speak for the regular soldiers.

"Anya, right?" Astra asked the female wraith next to her as she began spreading the jam over her baguette. "My name is—" Anya scowled again as she tore off a piece of her croissant. The expression contrasted sharply with her soft features. Astra stopped.

"I know who you are. Thanks to your little... spectacle... everyone knows who you are." Anya tilted her head up a bit, making her seem haughty. Astra raised her eyebrows at the act. It must be difficult to shred the croissant into pieces when one was looking upward.

"Anyali," Jemma chided from next to her. She leaned to gently touch Anya's right arm. The female stiffened. "Calayne is new to all of this. We need to give her time to get used to this." Anya pushed away Jemma's hand. The latter frowned for a fraction of a second before turning to smile apologetically at Astra.

"After that fiasco last night, everyone will know she's affiliated with us," Anya sniffed, frustration coloring her tone. Indeed, a simple glance around the dining room told Astra that more than a few wraiths were indiscreetly looking in their direction. Those same wraiths quickly averted their gaze once they found Astra staring at them.

"Take it easy." Ciril from the other side of Jemma gave her a crooked smile as he leaned over and shook his bangs out of his eyes. The proximity allowed Astra to finally get a good look at the male. He was devastatingly handsome with his heterochromia eyes—one hazel, and the other a light blue—and chiseled facial structure. Loose blonde hair that framed his face. Astra had to force herself to look away to stop staring. "It's not like your ranking will go down. The others love you!" Anya continued to frown, although a small smile had started to tug at her lips.

"What do you mean by rankings?" Astra asked. She took a bite out of her baguette as Ciril turned that smile on her and began to answer.

"There's a ranking board on both sides of the room." Ciril pointed out the huge board on the wall across the room and the one behind them. White chalk words were scrawled on the blackboard. "They're based off of several factors, but the top ranks are the most likely to be chosen as guests for special events, like the Firelight Ball. Anya is second so far. And I know Riviera is first. Jem, you're third, I think." The female in question smiled brightly and nodded. "And I'm fifth. Not sure who the fourth place spot is, though."

"One of the female wraiths, I should think." Anya looked around the room, searching.

"No doubt. The guards always favor the females," Ciril commented, although his voice was light and didn't sound bitter at all.

"Wow," Astra commented, unsure of what else to say as she polished off her baguette and reached for the brioche. Making friends had never been an easy task for her. "You three are popular then." A shadow of a smirk was stretching across Anya's face next to her. On Astra's other side, Jemma shrugged and wrapped an arm around her in a side hug to her discomfort.

"Psh," Jemma reassured. "It has nothing to do with popularity. I'm sure you can easily get on there!" Anya side-eyed her friend.

"After last night? She'd be lucky to get out of the last ten." Jemma rolled her eyes.

"Don't discourage Callie."

"Callie?" Astra asked, immediately making a face at the name. Next to her, Anya also scrunched up her face in disgust. Good to know she wasn't the only one, even if the female that was agreeing with her grated her the wrong way.

"Calayne. Callie. Calayne." Jemma waved her hand flippantly as she tossed a grape in her mouth. "Everyone needs a nickname. Don't worry," she said, misunderstanding the grimace on Astra's face. "You'll get up there! I'm sure!"

"Don't give the girl false wishes," Anya reminded. Disdain overcame Astra at the tone of the female's words, and the urge to stab something—someone, her mind helpfully corrected—overcame her. Astra gripped the table top with her left hand to control the urge. After all, the gods knew she had probably been ruder than Anya at some point in her life. But then, mere seconds after that thought, the female speared one of Astra's peaches with her fork, ready to bite into it. The sheer arrogance and possessiveness in the act made Astra prickle in annoyance. Fast as the highland falcons, she plucked the fork with the peach right out of Anya's hand.

"Thank you," she said to Anya, before she placed the fork in her mouth and slid the peach off with her teeth and chewed. She placed the fork back in Anya's hand.

"Oh—" Jemma closed her mouth and smiled awkwardly. Next to her, Ciril was at a loss as to how to react. Anya's nostrils flared, and Astra thought she saw a red smoldering glow enveloping her before the female took a breath and the glow disappeared. She pushed her tray back, threw the fork in her hand at Astra's tray, and left without another backward glance.

Astra raised an eyebrow at the leaving figure of Anya before turning back to her breakfast tray. She plucked the fork out of her tray and tossed it on Anya's. Thank the Seam Anya wasn't good at throwing; it had landed on the plastic of the tray, and not on any of the food. She said lightly, "So that went well," and then shoved another slice of peach into her mouth. Had she blown the opportunity to gain more information from them about the army? She'd antagonized and nearly outright attacked their friend, as much as she'd deserved it.

Jemma laughed, this time much more natural. "Don't worry about it. Anya can be... high-strung. She worries a lot. But we love her anyway."

"She'll come back around," Ciril said with a smile. Did he ever stop smiling? With a beam like that, Astra was sure there were more than a few admirers within the army.

A short, staccato whistle sounded. Astra winced, but Jemma and Ciril didn't even flinch. "Morning roll call and stretches," Ciril explained. "Come on."

They followed the crowd of wraiths into the same hall where Luria had been whipped. Astra kept close to Jemma and Ciril and carefully and apprehensively stepped over the dried blood stains that decorated the ground throughout the room. Ahead, Riviera walked along with Iker, and the other four wraiths on their team. She ducked her head and let her black hair fall in a sheet around her face when the female turned to look back. Fortunately, the wind wraith didn't notice her and instead blew a kiss to someone behind her.

A sigh of relief escaped her as Riviera turned back forward. At the front of the room, a guard had already start calling out names. Jemma gave a meaningful look at Ciril before she smiled at Astra, squeezed her hand once, and turned to walk a short distance away to converse with another wraith.

"What happens to the wraiths that aren't here when their names are called?" Astra asked Ciril. The male slowed to walk next to her.

"It's an army," he reminded her unnecessarily. "If they're late or absent without a viable excuse, they're punished."

"And what's the punishment?" In Varaly, even the slightest infraction had resulted in solitary confinement. She remembered the popular tale of a talkative new recruit who had been thrown into solitary confinement for a month when he couldn't stop talking. Some of the older and senior agents had said he'd turned mute when he came out. Never spoke another word again.

"They get their allotted afternoon social time taken away for the day," Ciril answered. "Extended military training for them instead."

"That's it?" she asked in shock. The blonde wraith gave her a confused look. Astra stepped over another blood stain that was forever imprinted on the concrete ground. Then what sort of infractions warranted whipping? Was it only escape attempts? She was so rooted in her thoughts that Ciril had to nudge her to get her to call out an affirmation she was present when the guard called out her name for the roll call.

Socializing time, healthy and fresh food, decent accommodations. The whipping aside, the consequence of lost social time seemed a relatively weak punishment. An extremely weak punishment. Surprise and disbelief warred within her, followed by suspicion.

If what Pascal had said to her was true, with the Official Wraith Ban of Auxerre in effect, any wraiths in Auxerre were essentially criminals. Or in the case of the army—slaves. But she'd never seen or heard of criminals or slaves treated even half as well as this.

The rest of the roll call passed in a blur, though she was aware that none of the wraiths were absent. As the soldier that had been calling out roll called for another soldier to lead morning stretches, Ciril touched a light hand to her elbow. "Are you alright?" Astra blinked hard and brushed the loose strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear.

"I'm fine." Ciril's hand fell away as she moved her arm. Concern and confusion colored his eyes, but Astra ignored him as she leaned down to touch her toes. She would be fine. She was always fine. That is, once she found the ulterior motive behind the formation of this huge army of wraiths, a species that Auxerre, along with Varaly and Pelosia, had made no secret to hate for centuries. She could accept the explanation of capturing wraiths to use as slaves. She could even accept the explanation of using them as expendable soldiers. But she could not accept the idea that Auxerre was simply treating their wraith soldiers well out of the goodness of their hearts.

Astra glared at the standard issue gray shoes as she touched her palms to the ground, letting the pain in the stretch focus her. There had to be an ulterior motive at play.