Or my name wouldn't be Nageth Elvar!

Nagan could only stare in shock as the scratchy letters glared up at him. They had all returned to the mansion the next morning, just as they had promised, to retrieve the journal the first man left behind. But Nagan stopped dead in his tracks, his mind reeling at what he was looking at.

Behind the cover, there were no names or titles that would have hinted at who the journal belonged to. So, Nagan had turned to where the writing stopped, trying to find what were the last things this person had written about. He had full intentions of looking for clues on why the Sunglare Circle may have been targeted, but he certainly wasn't expecting this.

"What is it?" Az asked, stopping as soon as Nagan did. "Did you find something?"

Wordlessly, Nagan turned the journal around, pointing to the letters on the page. It took a moment for Az to decipher what it said, but his mouth soon dropped open.

"By the gods—"

"Wh-What? What i-i-is it-it?"

It didn't take long for the teens to crowd around, all trying to see what Nagan was pointing at, but Nagan spared them the trouble of trying to read the handwriting.

"This belonged to my father," Nagan said, his voice still tinged with awe. "Nageth Elvar was the first man with the dragon Madam Sivil was talking about."

None of them knew what to say after that. They were planning on turning in the journal as further evidence of suspicious activity, but now...

"Well, does it say anything about the Sunglare Circle?" Gath asked.

Nagan snorted. "I'm not sure, I'd have to look through it for a bit. My father wasn't exactly known for his impeccable handwriting."

"Yeah...good luck with that."

"With that conclusion in mind, we think it would be best if a fully trained Infiniti were to take a look at it," Carth concluded, his back ram-rod straight as he reported to Colonel Warven. The rest stood behind him with Nagan standing a bit closer. Professor Fai had been sent away on his own mission, leaving the teens to report to the colonel.

"That is very strange," Colonel murmured, mostly to himself but still addressing the teen in front of him. "I'll have to ask General Meixong for confirmation, but I believe I've heard other cases of this, but not with so much clarity as this. Who was it again who you spoke to?"

"Madam Sivil. She's the current mayor's mother and has lived there all her life. We were told of another, a farmer whom they only call Old Gamger and lives right next to the Sunglare Circle, but it was recommended we didn't speak to him. He doesn't like strangers or foreigners, apparently."

"Ah. I see. Unfortunately, you'll get a few people like that down here. Perhaps if we send him a notice ahead of time, he would be more receptive if the Council decides we should question him, too." The colonel jotted down a couple notes on two separate sheets of paper, one probably going to General Meixong and the other to the Council. "I will put in your recommendation for the area being inspected by an Infiniti. Good work, you've successfully completed a mission on your own."

The teens felt a sense of pride at those words. If they were honest, the sight of a genuine smile from someone other than Professor Fai was refreshing to see. They've been surrounded by schemes and flattery for so long, sometimes they felt more like machines rather than people.

"Thank you, Colonel."

"Is there anything else you have? Sorry if I cut you off. If not, you're free to rest and do as you please—well, within reason, and don't let the other soldiers goad you into drinking anything. There were other missions we thought about giving you, but if there are more places like this, we may send you on those instead. Might as well let this be your investigation since, so far, you know the most about it. Ah, but I digress." Colonel Warven looked between them as he repeated, "Is there anything else?"

There was a beat of silence, the teens glancing between each other. No one spoke.

"No, sir," Carth said at last. "I believe that's all."

"Alright. You're dismissed, then."

If Nagan wasn't going to mention the journal, none of them would.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Nagan," Carth said, but his voice suggested apprehension rather than a warning. "We could get in trouble for withholding evidence."

"You could've ratted me out, too, so why didn't you if you're so worried about it?" Nagan replied, idly turning a page in the journal. In his other hand, he held a pen, writing notes in Rakshu in another notebook.

It was late into the evening, and most of their group had retired early. Milora slept in the main area alongside the rest of them that night, Gath and Az also asleep, leaving Nagan, Carth, and Aitor awake. Aitor kept to himself, however, quietly listening while polishing their swords (he liked tending to the weapons for some reason).

"That's why I said I hope you know what you're doing. Whatever is in this journal may not be essential to getting an Infiniti to the area, and that was our objective. Still, there's a change of punishment depending if there is something here." Carth sat down next to him. "Speaking of what's written, wouldn't it be easier to write in Tarkon so you won't have to rewrite this?"

"Rakshu is quicker for me." Nagan shrugged. "And it's a little irrational, but sometimes I fear I'll forget it, so I use it as much as I can. Besides, I'd still want a copy of what I wrote, so I would have to rewrite it anyway."

"I suppose that makes sense." Carth leaned back on his hands. "How different is Rakshu besides the letters?"

"The sentences are structured differently, that's for sure. There are different sounds, some of those sounds don't exist in Tarkon and vice versa, and overall, there's less to write."

Carth stared at what looked like lines, dots, and squiggles. "...Really?"

"Yes. Look." Nagan wrote down a sentence in Tarkon before writing it again in Rakshu. Rakshu was indeed shorter. "Less work. And the calligraphy looks better."

"Point taken. So what have you found so far?"

"Nothing more so far. However, he did note off to the side that he could see the golden glow as well. Either we, for some reason, don't have the ability to see this light, or we weren't looking hard enough for it. Should we have gone back?"

"You have a magic affinity, don't you? If you didn't see anything, I doubt that glow is there anymore. Only Az sensed the Infiniti magic there." Carth paused and looked to the entrance. The tent was closed, but there was a small sliver near the bottom that showed how dark it was outside. The only reason they could see at all was because Nagan summoned a ball of light to float nearby. "We should go to bed."

"You can if you're tired, but I think I'm gonna stay up for a bit." Nagan looked to Aitor. "How about you, Aitor?"

Aitor shook his head as he inspected the final sword—Carth's by the look of it—before sheathing it, setting it on the weapon rack near the entrance. With a wave of his hand, he signaled Nagan goodnight and took one of the empty cots. Carth was soon to follow, also motioning something with his hand, but by the annoyed expression, it didn't mean a goodnight. Nagan narrowed his eyes at that, seconds away from snapping at Carth to spit it out, but then that's when it dawned on him. He dimmed the light.

Nagan, "Better?"

Carth, "Yeah. Don't stay up for too long."

"What are you, my mother?"

"H-He's t-t-too light for-for th—that."

Nagan let out a heavy snort while Carth let a bark of laughter slip.

"Go to bed. Both of you," Carth said, but a smile lingered on his face as he tucked himself in the covers. Not that he would ever say so, but Nagan liked how Carth's smile looked. He always thought it suited the teen more than a smirk did.

Nagan continued to read in silence after that. The only sounds he heard were Az's soft snores or the occasional soldier passing their tent. They were set near the outskirts, and sometimes it was inconvenient when they had to go to the opposite end of the camp where the supply tents were, but at night it was peaceful.

Usually.

Nagan froze as he heard several people approaching, the clinking of armor putting him on high alert. He jumped when the tent flap was tossed aside carelessly. The first person to enter startled as well, the second bumping into him and hissing out something that sounded like, "What was that for?" The first shushed him, beckoning his group to be quiet as they entered.

They must be the other squadron we share a tent with.

The rest of the other squadron entered quietly as they had been asked, confused, but they all showed some variation of surprise or shock as they saw the other inhabitants. Respecting the need for rest—they all understood the exhaustion that came with war—no unnecessary noises were made. Only the metallic clicks of armor and swords being put away and hushed whispers were heard. They must have been normal mages, Nagan noted, as Dragonmages had enchanted cloaks that worked just as well as armor.

"Sorry," the first one muttered as he passed.

Nagan only nodded in response, turning back to his reading. He ignored the curious glances cast towards him, both between him and the journal in his hand. Their attention drew away quickly after that, however, the lull of sleep being stronger than their questions. As things began to wind down, Nagan heard the tail-end of one murmuring conversation, and he put down his pen when a certain name reached his ears.

"Professor—Captain Fai has returned as well?" Nagan asked, turning to the two who were talking. One jumped in surprise at his sudden intrusion while the other looked as if he wanted to tell Nagan off for eavesdropping.

"Yeah, not long after us," the annoyed one said, miffed. "Why?"

Nagan ignored the question. "Do you know where he is right now?"

"Why would I know—"

"I think I saw him heading to the southern tip of the camp where all the officials sleep," the other soldier offered. "He might've gone to report to General Meixong."

"Thank you."

Without paying any more attention to them, Nagan dried the page he was writing on with a silent incantation, tucking it between the journal's pages and snapping it shut. He stood and headed to the entrance, grabbing his cloak on the way. The night was cold, after all. He felt the chill when the other squadron entered. For a moment, he considered grabbing his sword, and he even stopped by the weapon's rack. He decided against it, however. It wasn't as if he was going to wander beyond the camp's walls.

The walk felt shorter than usual, going from one end of the camp to the other. No one questioned him what he was doing as he passed, and he silently thanked whatever deity out there that gave him the composure of a man who knew what he was doing. Not that he did in this case, but he was glad he looked the part. Carth's words hadn't shaken him, that wasn't the word, but there were things he felt like he needed to discuss with someone. Professor Fai was once his father's apprentice, and General Meixong seemed like the person who would find out about the journal eventually. They would be the ones who knew what to do with the journal.

After asking a couple pagers where General Meixong's tent was, Nagan was relieved to find that one, the tent flap was pulled aside meaning Meixong was open for visitors, and two, he could see Professor Fai's familiar low ponytail. General Meixong was the first to see him as he approached, and they straightened from leaning over their desk.

"Looks like we got a stray, Fai," General Meixong said, their voice tinged with amusement. "What do you need, Sergeant?"

Nagan paused, realizing he hadn't really thought of what he wanted to say. He didn't want to be careless with his words, not in front of someone he knew was keeping a mental note of everything he said and did. Not to mention, he was distracted by a pen floating and writing on a piece of paper at the edge of Meixong's desk.

"This was given to me," Nagan blurted when both Professor Fai and General Meixong continued to stare at him. He held out the journal to Professor Fai. "By Madam Sivil, the woman we spoke to when—"

"From the Sunglare Circle," General Meixong finished, shifting some papers around on their desk as Professor Fai took the journal. "I don't remember there being any mentions of a book in your report."

"It wasn't important," Nagan replied, but perhaps a bit too quickly judging by the way General Meixong leveled him with a stare.

"Not important, you say? Then why bring it here?"

"I wasn't bring it to—"

"Me, I know. That's quite apparent since you gave it to Fai. But why did Madam Sivil give it to you? Is there something in it relating to the Sunglare Circle?"

Nagan tensed at that. He really didn't like how General Meixong seemed to be able to look through him. "I wasn't sure."

"So there's a chance of there being information." General Meixong began writing something, a frown beginning to etch itself on their usually passive face. "I don't know if you've figured this out yet, Sergeant Elvar, but I actually quite like it when people don't withhold information—"

"Meixong."

Both General Meixong and Nagan's attention snapped to Professor Fai. Even the floating pen stopped. However, the professor's attention was solely on General Meixong with a stern expression. Professor Fai silently handed the journal to the general, neither of them breaking eye contact. All the while, Nagan felt as if he needed to run far, far away. While Professor Fai looked as if he was scolding a student, the general was openly glaring at the professor.

"The book belonged to Nageth Elvar, his father."

The effect was immediate, General Meixong's face changing in an instant to surprise. They were quick to school their face into something neutral as they took the journal, but Nagan could've sworn there was a slight sheepishness around them. They then took a moment to thumb through the pages, eyes scanning the words before stopping at the loose pages Nagan had written on earlier.

"My apologies," General Meixong said, startling Nagan as he realized again they had been looking at him without him being aware of it. "I shouldn't have judged the situation so quickly. You were right to keep it from Colonel Warven. He's a good man, but I don't think he realizes just how corrupt the Council really is. That's why you didn't mention this, correct? Because you don't want the Council knowing?"

"Um...sort of?" Nagan said hesitantly, his mind still wrapping around the sudden mood change. "I wanted to see what was in it myself before giving it away."

"And did you? In the span of a few hours with this handwriting? Gods, it's worse than mine."

"Not completely, but it didn't feel..." Nagan scrunched up his face. "Carth mentioned that we could get in trouble for holding onto it. They were willing to keep the secret, and it wasn't as if any more proof was needed to send an Infiniti there. But still, it wouldn't be fair if they got in trouble for something of mine. That's why I thought that maybe Prof—Captain Fai would know what to do."

"And you still showed me it? You could've waited for your professor to leave, you know."

Nagan shrugged. "No offense, General, but you don't seem like the person to tell the Council everything yourself."

General Meixong blinked at that before their lips twitched into a smile. "Oh, I'm keeping you in my division if you have an instinct like that. Bold and risky, but it was a good call." They shifted back into a more serious demeanor as they set the journal on their desk. "Who knows where this would go if you gave it to the Council. If you'd like, I can keep this here with me, and you can come by and read it whenever you'd like. However, I say keep it here because people can go in and out of your tent freely, regardless if they stay there or not. Mine, however? They cannot. I have too much information here for that, and if anyone is caught snooping around, they could immediately be accused of treason under suspicion of collecting information for another party. Trust me, it'll be safe here."

And for some reason, Nagan did. Maybe it was because Professor Fai seemed more relaxed in General Meixong's presence or that the general openly said they didn't trust the Council. Perhaps the general had ulterior motives to keep the journal, but Nagan could care less about those. As long as he had access to the journal himself, he would be fine with this arrangement.

"As long as you keep your side of the bargain," Nagan said carefully. "I don't know what you would want it for, but I really don't care as long as I can read it as well."

Once again, General Meixong looked mildly amused. "What makes you think I want to read it?"

"Nothing will happen to it, I'll make sure of it," Professor Fai cut in before Nagan could respond. Not that Nagan was complaining. He really didn't know what to say or how to act around the general without them finding out all of his secrets. Professor Fai then turned to the general. "What did I say about terrorizing my students?"

General Meixong opened their mouth.

"No."

They shut their mouth, but they looked oddly satisfied.

Professor Fai rubbed his temples to ward off an oncoming headache. "Anyway, Nagan, what are you even doing up this late?"

Taking that as his cue (and opportunity) to leave, Nagan quickly threw up his hand in a salute. "That was all, General Meixong, Captain Fai."

Nagan was gone before either of them could stop him. Meixong let out a long wheeze.

"Ah, the all-mighty terror of being caught by a teacher past curfew," they said, returning to writing on various pieces of paper. Another pen was charmed into writing as well. "Not that I ever experienced it, it was hard enough for the professors to get me to leave my room outside of attending classes."

"Actually, look at me again." Fai didn't wait for Meixong to respond, instead grasping their chin and turning their face towards him. "Ei, When was the last time you slept?"

"Last night."

"For how long?"

"A solid eight hours."

"Liar." He let them go, and they resumed writing as if nothing happened. He then went to the tent entrance and closed it. "You have ten seconds to finish your thoughts before I haul you off to bed."

"You wouldn't dare," Meixong bit back, but every pen active began writing faster.

"Eight, seven, six...finish your last sentence."

"Hold on, my sentences can't just cut off—"

"Three, two—"

"Fai, let's talk about this—" Their pens were madly writing now, seeming to form their own shorthand.

"Be glad I gave you those ten seconds."

Without another word, Fai plucked the pen out of Meixong's hand before hauling them over his shoulder. Meixong swore all the way, a mix of Tarkovish and Froshrinese, as Fai headed to the back where Meixong's personal quarters were. One lone pen remained in motion, scribbling furiously at the poor piece of paper below it.

With a final flourish, the pen tore a small hole into the page before dropping unceremoniously to the ground, just as the back's tent flap settled.

•__________________________•

*typing like mad but utterly confused* I don't know what's going on between these characters what the heck—

Genuinely, I don't know how this happened XD. I just wanted another person from Froshrinra, I swear!

Anyway, funny story: While writing this chapter, I sprained my pinky after sleeping on it wrong. At first I thought that would affect my ability to type, but the thing is, I made the discovery that I don't use my right pinky, the one that's injured, at all when typing XD. I now see why my typing grade was garbage.

You know, now that I think about it, how many of you guys remember typing class? What was the expectation? Do people even have typing classes anymore???

For me, I actually was held from recess to practice typing because I could only type 40wpm XD. The average for my class was 90wpm, but then again, I went through academically focused schools from K to 12th grade. Totally isn't the reason why I fell off once I entered college but anyway—