"The 'Workman's Purge,' they're calling it." Commander Blare looked as ragged as he did the day before. He still hadn't slept off the bags under his eyes or combed his hair, facial or otherwise. His eyes held the horrors of Scurge and Engal behind a rheumy veil of exhaustion and he looked too tired to show any emotion. He heaved himself into the dining hall and joined me in breakfast.
        "Workman's Purge? What do you mean?" I asked. My breakfast of bread and bacon had long gone cold already, a result of the non-hunger I felt since Scurge. Both of us were still disturbed by the whole ordeal, it seemed. "Is this about the fires?"
        Commander Blare nodded. "Aye, and I've learned that it's not just happening here, or even just in Beren. All over Veradan these denborn are being driven out. Some in harsher ways, as well."
        "Harsher?" My stomach dropped at the word. "What could be harsher than death by fire?"
        "Not much, I suppose," Blare said, scratching his with beard with dirt-lathered fingers, "but there's not many, thankfully. Scurge and Engal are still among the worst, if it helps you to know. Most settlements are simply being shown the door as it were, no violence, no casualties. The denborn realise they're no longer welcome so they pack up and leave. Most towns are spared the torch." He took a sip of mulled wine and grimaced, as if it was sour. He was silent for a time but it still felt he had more to say so I stayed silent myself. Eventually he spoke up again. "There's not many, though. Only a handful of settlements over all the kingdoms are  being evicted, each by local hands of anti-denborn sentiment. It just seems like our locals are a bit more brutal than the others."
        Blare's words were harder to swallow than my cold bread. I washed it down with wine but found it sour as well, not so much in its own taste as the taste that was already on my tongue. Something about this purge made me feel sick to my stomach.
        Compared to the other kingdoms, Beren history was rife with denborn inclusions. Though attitudes towards the denborn were no better than other kingdoms, there was a significantly higher number of denborn settlements and towns littered throughout the land, doubling the number of the other kingdoms combined. They kept to themselves, understanding that involvement with humans would only deepen the schism between races, yet the fact that they were still living on our land didn't do much to help in that regard either. Simply living in Veradan was enough to irritate many.
        King Yannick of Beren, much like King Droderna of the adjacent kingdom of Cennja, dabbled little in the affairs of denborn, only interfering when the beastmen took too much for granted and needed to be reminded of the kings' generosity for allowing them to remain in royal lands. King Yannick was even less involved with denborn which has led to some rumours that his ignorance was proof of some secret alliance between the crown and the immigrants from beyond the Thicket. It was all outside of my judgement however, as my bubble of interest covered the outpost and Titanspring and not much else. Public opinion didn't matter all that much to me out here and news made less of an impact on the garrison, chiefly because our little outpost had a considerable lack of propaganda and doomsayers on street corners compared to the city where gossip ran unbridled and gullibility was at an all-time high. If there was one good thing about living so far north of Titanspring was the considerably low amount of stress and paranoia.
        In the city, on the other hand, was where stress and paranoia were bred and raised, and most likely where the arsonists that burned down Engal and Scurge came from. But how do you track down such people in a city of thousands? You may as well put half the city in chains as conspirators if you accept radical hatred as evidence. Everyone has a motive, everyone is an abettor. Even I had a somewhat ugly disposition towards denborn before the tragedy at Engal.
        And before I met Kelna. I wonder, what would be my stance on these fires had I not found her? Would I have shrugged it off like the others? Would I have cared as much if I found Kelna not alive but as another blackened corpse? The last thought made my stomach drop and ruined whatever was left of my diminished appetite. I either didn't know or didn't want to know the answers to those questions.
        ”How is Fenrey, commander?” I changed the subject. Fenrey had not returned until early in the morning, while Kelna and I were still asleep. By the time I woke, he had already found his own bed. “I heard he waited for a long while for the guard to arrive.”
        “That he did. I should thank him for taking my position in that regard, though I feel he’s not the only one I need to thank.” The commander gave me a knowing smile which put some colour back in his cheeks. He was still looking far from his usual; his gait was slower and came with a small limp that was never this pronounced and his head slumped over his shoulders in a slight hunch. He didn’t look weaker at all, nor did he look older than his age, if anything he looked more the age he was, but there was something about him that told me he would never be the lively commander that he was before these fires. “I should also thank you for coming along with me in the first place. I know it was so sudden, and to bring along Kelna knowing the dilemma . . .” Blare said, distraught.
        “She wasn’t any issue, commander. She held up fairly well despite the circumstances. I’m only sorry I couldn’t keep her away from the town.” I rubbed the back of my knees where her tail swiped at it. For a young girl, it was a strong swing. Denborn truly are powerful creatures.
        “You have nothing to be sorry for, Argyn. I’m actually surprised things went along better than I expected with her. I only wish I could say the same for Scurge.” He took a bite of bread and had to wash it down with wine, cursing the bread’s dryness and the wine’s sourness. “Considering the extent of the damage in both towns, the fact that she managed to survive that hell in Engal was a damn bloody miracle.”
        I wiped my hands of the grease they had gotten covered in from touching the bacon but not eating it. “That she survived is not enough. She needs sanctuary from those that mean to harm her kind. I can only offer so much protection of my own, but you and I both know this is no sanctuary. Had I left her behind when we left for Scurge, I doubt she would have been here when I returned. At least, not in the same state.”
        “You think you can’t protect her here?” Blare asked with a blank face. I wondered if he thought I was incriminating the others.
        I hesitated with my answer. “It’s not that I can’t protect her, it’s that she’s not safe.”
        “Where is safe, Argyn?” He caught my unsure gaze with his own. “You and I are probably the only people for miles that won’t harm or exploit her, and that includes the denborn settlements. And even if they gave her a place to stay and a life free of harassment, every city around here is in danger. How long before other towns are destroyed?"
        "The guard needs to keep a closer watch on these towns then."
        "The guard? Argyn, we -are- the guard. Titanspring won't raise a sword to ghosts in the wind. For all they know, they probably believe the fires were started by accident. And King Yannick is too busy using his finger to pick at his arse than pointing his soldiers in the right direction, or any direction at all. He's left the denborn to fend for themselves but they have more predators than friends and they aren't allowed to form any military of their own, even something as small as a town guard."
        "They must be aware of what's happening in the other settlements. One arson is a crime, two arsons are a pattern," I said.
        "They're -both- crimes, Argyn," Blare corrected me, "and every pattern has a beginning. We should have seen this in Engal. -I- should have seen this in bloody Engal." He sighed, a tired and wheezy sigh that made him sound like he had all but given up. He hadn't, of course. He would see this through to the end as he did all matters, but it seemed he didn't know where Kelna should go either.
        "Regardless, it's a pattern now. Not just to us, but to everyone, the denborn included. They will see this as a potential threat and will keep night watches, I'm sure of it. No town will be caught unaware like the last two," I explained. If the denborn were being targeted, they would be on alert. I doubt they could ignore this so-called "purge."
        "Engal was never reported as arson. I doubt Scurge will be, either. Both were accidents as far as the guard is concerned, hence why you don't see anyone looking around for clues."
        "Accidents?" I wasn't surprised, but felt shocked all the same. Mere ignorance, or corruption, or conspiracy, or all three? Was their red armour only good for polishing, or was the guard truly this incompetent? It made me sick to think I ever wanted to join their ranks.
        "You're right though. Any denborn within close proximity to Titanspring will be careful, I'm sure. These incidents can't easily be interpreted as coincidence, no matter how you spell it," Blare said and finished his bread.
        Light began to drip in from the windows as the sun rose up from behind the mountains. The drab wooden beams of the dining hall woke up with colour and the cobbled stones popped out to greet the day, casting short shadows on each other. The room began to feel more spacious as a few soldiers milled in to start their duties. Blare didn't pay them any heed.
        "Kelna will be safe here for the time being, Argyn," Blare changed the topic suddenly, "so long as she's with you. While I'm here, no one will dare touch her, as I've put out word that she's to be kept under our protection. When I'm not around however, I'll need you to keep both eyes on her. She is not to be left alone--or with anyone else, aside from me--under any circumstances. I understand you complain often about taking care of her, but that's what all men say about wives, isn't that so?" He laughed.
        I felt my cheeks flare up from his comment. "That is merely a jape the others like to play. The girl is as much a wife as she is a human. I'm not her wet nurse or a surrogate father or in any way attached to her. I'm only with her to keep her safe, as per your orders." I became defensive, but I couldn't help it. I had become entertainment for everyone else in the outpost and now Commander Blare was joining in with them.
        “So your issues stem from an unwillingness to bond with this girl,” he chuckled, then: “I did not say you needed to show this girl kindness or sympathy, Argyn, nor did I try to send you the notion. Yet you warmed to this girl all the same.”
        I scoffed. “She follows me like a shadow and pays all attention to what I’m doing. If anything, she’s warmed to me. But that doesn’t mean that I enjoy her company.” Kelna got in my way more often than not and distracted me, not to mention made me the focus of jokes and criticism from my peers. Her existence made life in the outpost a chore and cast me as a social pariah.
        “I did not expect you to, nor does it seem like you're lying. I can see your stress from taking care of her. But that doesn't mean you don't care for her."
        "I don't care for her," I asserted a little too strongly. A bead of sweat dripped from my forehead to my brow.
        A moment in silence. My tongue felt heavy and thick in my mouth. Blare narrowed his eyes at me. "Tell me Argyn, is it that you want her to be safe, or you just want to rid your hands of her? Be honest now, I don't want to leave her well-being in the trust of someone prone to bouts of irresponsibility."
        "Irresponsible?" I was surprised by his bluntness, and more than a little perturbed. I had taken this girl in without a peep from myself, accepting it as my duty, and as a duty it would be followed through to completion with perfection, or at least as close to it as possible. "Under skilled, mayhap, but irresponsible, commander? Why say it so?"
        "Under skilled then, or unconfident, call it what you will. Either way you'd be unfit for the job. I entrusted Kelna to your care because you were the only man I could bloody well trust with the job. Are you going to say I chose wrong?"
        A rhetorical, I thought. Gods know telling the commander he was wrong in any context would promise a near future of hard labour and short nights. Ailen Grinnlet, a short brick of a soldier that's been with the garrison over five years, knew Commander Blare's retaliatory duties better than his dailies thanks to a large mouth and a quick tongue. After a long night and morning of digging out weeds around the outpost did he finally learn that a vow of silence would help him stay on the watchtower instead of in the ditches. Unfortunately, unlike [Silver Wall recruit], Ailen wasn't adept at keeping vows, and had yet to return from a lone journey to Harpenton, which was a town Blare made up on the spot to get contradictory Ailen out of his sight for a while. Blare became cruel when he needed to.
        "You didn't choose wrong, commander, and I can and will protect her, even if you didn't order me to. She's in danger, and she's a resident of the land for which we fight for. She is a child and an innocent, and for that I will lay down my life for her," I spoke truthfully and boldly. It was for these kinds of situations that I joined the garrison in the first place, to defend this piece of the realm I grew up in. Denborn are as much people of the land as humans, and I knew my duties would involve their kind as much if not more than humans, and that every confrontation with them wouldn't be an aggressive one. Different cultures and languages may separate us, but they respect the land as us humans do, for better or for worse. I expected myself to act indifferently regarding their kind, and try not to sink into any subconscious bias I may have towards them. That having been said, I continued: "but you are asking for more than her protection. You are asking for me to care for her."
        Blare's calm eyes read my face and he cocked an eyebrow. "Aye? Is that not what you're doing?"
        "I cannot care for what I do not love. I will protect her, on my word and promise as a guardsman of this land, but I cannot be this girl's father or brother, or mother or sister or aunt or uncle, or any sort of relative. She will be kept from harm and her life will be put before mine, but I cannot show her kinship."
        "When did I say you should be her father, Argyn?"
        "You implied it."
        "I did now?" The commander's face scrunched up in a queer expression, one of perverse amusement but with a subtle undertone of irritation. "Then allow me to retract that implication. Apologies, I must have expected a bit too much from you, boy." He grunted as he stood, his leather straps snapping as they were pulled taught from holding the weight of himself. He picked up his plate and cup none too gently, spilling some of the wine on the table. His face was a mire of frustration but it melted away as he looked away. His head turned to me but he didn't look up, and he brushed some of the crumbs of his bread onto the floor. "I will look for a home for the girl," he said solemnly, "somewhere safe, somewhere far away from this place."
        He walked away. I was confused by his sudden change in tone, and felt more than a little guilty as it felt like I had ordered him to do something about my predicament,  but nevertheless a small weight lifted from my shoulders. If Kelna could find a safe place to live then I could go back to living my old life here. We would both be happy, or at least as happy as we could be given the situation. Perhaps she would find a kind family--gods know I couldn't be that for her--and perhaps she could live a normal life as well as she used to.
        I drank to that small mercy and finished my breakfast, then I turned to find Kelna who had been standing behind me for an uncertain period of time.
 
---
 
        "The stables we need to muck out are over there. Them's Potter's, and they have the most fetid stink about them," Ailen rambled as we rode our horses closer to the homestead. My arse was still bruised and sore from the hard ride to and from Scurge and here I was sitting on it again in the same saddle that was still warm from yesterday.
        "You know this from experience?" I jumped from my horse and tied it up to by the entrance. Ailen clucked his tongue and did the same.
        "The commander loves sending me here when I disagree with him. Though now it seems he sends me here whenever he gets a glimpse of me."
        "With a face as ugly as yours, I'd do the same."
        Ailen snorted. His flabby cheeks on the onset of jowls rose up in a grin, with dimples forming at the corners of his mouth. "Well, I'd rather clean up some horse's shit than a denborn's."
        "I'll let Blare know you think that way. Potter's been looking for a full-time stableboy and I'm sure Blare would agree you'd be best for the job. You might be in line for a career change," I said, not bothering to hide my contempt.
        Ailen's grin vanished. A few strands of dark hair tumbled in front of his face and he wiped them back, taking his time as to think of a retort. "I'm just glad he didn't stick me with the bloody thing," he said as he glanced over my shoulder. "Clumsy little shit, isn't she."
        I turned around. Kelna sat on my horse as she had the ride here, her short legs poking out at an uncomfortable degree and her tail draped back over the horse's, scales on hair. She was squirming, trying to get off of the saddle, but her hands were too blunted to grab a hold of the pommel or anything else, and the seat was too high up off the ground to simply jump off without falling, at least for her. She gave up all too soon, and simply sat in the saddle, her eyes partially covered by her hanging bangs looking at me in an act of helplessness, or rather at the ground before me as she still couldn't bring her gaze up to meet mine.
        -Two weeks with each other and you'd think she'd at least be able to look at me,- I grumbled in my thoughts. After upsetting her in the dining hall a couple of days ago she had become more non-existent than before. In addition to acting dumb she tried to stay out of my sight as best she could, preferring to keep wooden beams or other objects between us so she had something to cower behind. I didn't think she did it out of fear, however, rather she must have thought that the less I saw of her the better off I'd be. I regretted some of the words I spoke with Blare the other day, but the damage was already done.
        She was considerate in the way she acted, but it unsettled me all the same. she didn't like to ask for help, not because of pride or anything of the sort, but rather because she didn't want to bother anyone. She didn't like to look helpless either, as she happened to be approached more often when she looked too desperate, and unless it was me she preferred to be left alone, though as of recently she had begun to shun me as well, for reasons which were obvious. She probably would have preferred to be left up on the horse the way she was.
        But I couldn't leave her like that, even if I wanted to. Commander Blare told me to keep her with me at all times, and I wouldn't be able to watch her from the stables from where she was sitting. I grabbed her under the arms like a lifeless doll and hoisted her from the seat and set her on the ground. She weighed little, even with the tail and over-sized limbs. "Come along," I said, and she followed.
        "Is she going to help us at all, or is she just going to sulk?" Ailen asked shortly after we begun our work.
        "She can't do much of anything. It will be quicker for us to work alone," I replied honestly, but quietly enough so Kelna couldn't hear us. "Besides, we only have two pitchforks and shovels."
        "Can't she use her hands or her tail? Isn't that what they're for?" Ailen looked truly puzzled. "I mean, what good's a tail for anyways? I never understood why lizards or the like had them, but why a humanoid thing like her?"
        "I don't know."
        "You think she lays eggs?"
        "What?"
        "Well, she's half human, right? But she's also half lizard." He shook his head when I didn't catch his meaning. "Do you think she lays eggs, or births them live, like a cow or a horse?"
        I ignored his comparison with livestock  and got back to work. "I don't know. Just keep working," I spat.
        He didn't get back to work immediately. "Where does she sleep at night? I haven't been around the outpost too much lately, but I've heard she sleeps in your bed with you."
        "She sleeps on the floor," I lied. We shared a bed in the inn on the road to Scurge but aside from that the usual placement would be her on the bed and me on the floor, as embarrassing as that was.
        "I heard you won't let the other men take her for the night. Why is that?"
        Ailen's curiosity was beginning to prey on my nerves. His disposition of not being able to speak and work at the same time also wore down my patience. "Her family was recently killed. She's in no mood for anything. Besides, she's a child."
        "She hasn't bled yet, eh? That's a shame. But it can't be long now, right?" He shuffled his feet and finally moved his shovel. After a couple loads, he stopped again. "Do you mind if I have a go at her when the time comes?"
        "How about you shut your fucking mouth and get back to work?" I glared at him and wedged my shovel into the dirt, laid my hands on its handle and waited for a response.
        Ailen's face clouded over again and looked everywhere but my eyes. Despite the small amount of work he had done, he was already sweating. His shaggy blonde hair tumbled in front of his red face as he puffed out his cheeks, trying to find some kind of retort but failing in the end. He took his shovel in hand and shovelled more horse shit out of the stables. I joined him a few moments after, taking a look at Kelna who sat outside the stables with her beastly arms wrapped around her knees.
        The work was arduous, but Ailen didn't speak up again so it went by fairly quickly. Potter came out to give us some water which we accepted gratefully, though his offer to Kelna went unacknowledged. I poured her a cup and placed it next to her, but she didn't drink from it the entire time. Potter murmured some comments at her, none of them being all too kind. He was old and his sight was failing, but he was old enough to have fought in the War twenty years ago and it had ruined his impression of any and all kinds of denborn. I ignored his comments and tried to act dismissive of her when he asked me my opinions, which I found hard to do. If Kelna heard any of them, she didn't show it.
        Our job was done by sundown. Each stable was relatively clean and the horses' water and food troughs had all been filled. Any and all waste had been shovelled out and swept up. We cleaned it all to Potter's specifications, or at least close enough to make no difference (to us, at least). He had sat on a wooden stool for the last two hours and criticized our work relentlessly, claiming that he could have done it ten times better and faster had his back not given out a few years prior. The way he'd pick up a shovel to show us how he did it made me wonder how bad his back truly was.
        When he wasn't complaining about our thoroughness he complained about the girl. He thrice mentioned if he had come across her during the War he would have killed her on the spot. It spoke a lot about the kind of character he was (though I doubt he was telling the truth, he didn't seem like he had the stones to murder a child, thankfully) but it also made me think about this War and the veterans that fought in it. Potter or no, there was a good chance a girl like Kelna wouldn't have survived in such times had their encampments been overrun. Growing up, almost every child was told the stories of the denborn and how they fought in grisly fashion. They were ruthless, blood-craved monsters that didn't spare any mercy. They killed men, women and children all the same without discrepancy and would eat their victims, even if they still yet breathed. The humans in every tale were the heroes. Whether they lived or died they never faltered and always took more than a handful of the mangy bastards with them. Never in the stories did they ever say humans killed denborn children, but then again I doubt it would have made for an interesting story.
        To every human child a denborn was a frightening thing, a creature from nightmares and legends. But there would come a time where one would finally meet these beings and the illusion would shatter, or at the very least cause an odd discrepancy between fact and fable. I had met three denborn as a child before I came to believe that these lumbering, pathetic creatures were in fact the horrible monsters I had seen in my dreams. Needless to say, my fantasies were a lot more grotesque than the real thing. Where once I felt fear for these creatures, now I felt pity for them. It was a bizarre quandary I found myself in, and as I listened more and more to Potter's tales of heroism and slaying, I began to feel more and more uncomfortable.
        Kelna heard all, but said naught.
        "Give me a pitchfork and I'll skewer the damned thing, put it out of its misery. She damn near looks like she'd be grateful for it." Potter with his wine and us with our water sat in a half circle with Kelna in the same spot she had sat in when we first arrived, sitting far from us. She had not budged and inch, nor had she drank any of her water.
        "Do that and you'll be doing your own work from now on, Blare will see to that," Ailen said, drenching his head with whatever remaining water there was in his cup, "he was the one who stuck Argyn with the thing and he wants him to keep her safe."
        "Blasted Endrew," Potter snarled, his crooked teeth reflecting the sunlight making them look orange instead of their usual yellow. "A commander has no need for a soft heart, much less apologies for the denborn. I'm glad I left that bloody outpost when I did, it seems like it's full of sympathisers and cowards."
        "When did you leave the outpost?" I asked, ignoring his comments. It was the first time I heard he was ever in the garrison.
        "Same time as your commander got his post. Endrew couldn't command a sheep into a pen, much less a group of ill-trained soldiers into a battle. As fortune would have it he never got the chance to flirt his incompetence so he still dolls himself up as commander until his farce is revealed. Lucky whoreson." Potter swigged another mouthful of wine and coughed most of it back up.
        Though the wine might have done most of the speaking, it was clear Potter didn't see Blare in all too great a light. "You didn't trust his leadership capability?" I inquired further. There wasn't much I knew about Blare before I moved to the outpost. He had fought in the War but was more a simple survivor than a hero, or that's what would have us believe, anyhow. To some, merely coming out alive from a battle during the War was a greater accomplishment than any award or knighthood bestowed, no doubt Blare felt the same way. Regardless, Blare never became a knight (or was humble enough to never admit to it) nor did he join the city guard, instead choosing life as somewhat of an outcast here in our scant little swath of land north of Titanspring.
        "Back then, everyone was a War veteran, not like the grass green scum they dredged out of the lower quarters of Titanspring for the outpost's current posting," Potter stopped for a second, looked at nothing in particular, then turned to me, "by that I mean you and your peers."
        "I caught that, thanks," I said unappreciatively. I began to wonder if he truly left due on his own volition or if he was let go. If I were commander I could tell Potter wouldn't have lasted very long in my company.
        "There were many with years of experience above Endrew, many more fit for the duty too."
        "That includes you, right?"
        "Shut your mouth and listen, boy. Aye, me too."
        "Then who gave Blare the command?"
        Potter squinted at me like a priest would the throngs. "Who do you bloody well think? The commander before him, Perrin Skyward. But that's 'side the point." He drained the last of his wine and tossed his cup on the ground near Kelna's feet. She didn't flinch. "With the denborn flooding our lands, the kings might as well be building them their homes with how much they've given them. And they won't stop now that they've begun; Beren has all but fallen already. The outpost was resupplied and manned after the War as a military outpost for jobless soldiers but now it's become no more of a wet nurse replacement for boys still on the breast. After the War, we prevented them from taking too much, to tell them where the lines were drawn in the sand. We knew of the atrocities they committed, the blasphemies, the heretical rituals, and yet all these tales have been wiped clean from their slate, unmarred for the new generations to gaze upon. The soldiers of today are soft, their commanders craven. The fact that that monster still lives is proof of that," he thumbed at Kelna, "give me your sword and I'll rectify Blare's orders."
        "I'm afraid I'll have to refuse," I said reproachfully. What little taste his water swill had was gone to bitterness on my tongue and I couldn't finish it. I stood and nodded at him (my thanks for the hospitality he showed us, or lack thereof) and swatted whatever remains of hay and dust still lay unfettered on my surcloak to the ground, and left for my horse, and beyond that the outpost. I was done with Potter's task as well as Potter himself, with Ailen and the horses and the stables and everything in Potter's stead. There was but one thing left to do, and that was pick Kelna off the ground and get her back the outpost.
        Ailen followed suit swiftly after. He hadn't shown much interest in Potter's ramblings, but he never took offense to them either. With his relationship with Blare, I fear he may have agreed with Potter, but whatever his true feelings were he kept to himself. He offered Potter a healthier thank-you while Potter snarled on, spewing as much vitriol as he did spittle that dribbled down his chin that required a wipe of the sleeve every so often. As interesting as it was to learn more of Blare's past I'd rather get it from a less biased source.
        "Up. Let's go, on your feet," I urged Kelna, not sparing any sympathy despite the verbal lashing she took at the expense of Potter. She didn't look at me or move at all.
        Grasping her by the arm, I wrenched her upright, not gently for the sake of being gentle. The sooner we left the sooner we'd be back at the outpost and we'd be able to get some sleep, so the sooner she cooperated the sooner she'd be able to sulk comfortably instead of on the cramped little patch of dirt she rooted herself on. I pulled her and we were both silent for a time; I figured she wouldn't heed any counsel so I decided for her, thought for her, and moved for her as well, picking her up when it was time to saddle the horse and positioning her legs properly before she had the chance to do it herself.
        In all honesty, I was frustrated with her. I was frustrated with everything, Potter's sermon notwithstanding but certainly a catalyst for my fatigue and irritability. I felt more exhausted after his tales than I did after cleaning the stables and even felt like more shit came out of him than all the horses.
        In my muddled sense of loathing I only barely noticed the tears forming in the corner's of Kelna's diamond-coloured eyes. Again she looked like the very girl I scavenged from Engal's wreckage, as if she had changed somewhat since then. I had grabbed her forearm when I pulled her to the horses, the forearm that was burned until not so long ago, the forearm that apparently hadn't completely healed yet. Try as she might, she attempted to keep a face of stoicism but came up short much too much. She turned her head away from mine as a last effort to keep her mask from breaking, but the truth had already been spoken.
        I didn't have the strength to sigh anymore. I merely saddled myself and rode away from the setting sun.
 
---
 
        The training yard was as restless as it ever was the next day. The sound of swords clanging rang through the air in a constant hum, with grunts of pain from the trainees punctuating the din of mock battle. Steel on steel, steel on leather, leather on ground. Cries of "Advance!" from the sideline captains and "Yield" from the losers that found themselves spilled onto the dirt. There was never any time for licking your wounds here though, the same went for revelling in your victories; it was one battle after the other with very little time for breaks.
        I saw Fenrey in a ring with one of the green recruits (I say "green," giving Fenrey some benefit even though he himself is still considered new here) giving him a rough time, spurring him on with openings that turned out to be feints and countering when his opponent's thrust was made. Unfortunately for him, it only seemed to work half the time, the other half the new recruit would score a hit, usually missing his vitals but hitting him all the same.
        He saw me and nodded, taking a moment to soak the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt poking out of his leathers. He spied Kelna behind me but didn't give her any acknowledgement, not that she'd have seen any anyways. Kelna made sure to keep myself between her and the training yard, to help avoid stares or any other form of attention. She seemed to understand that the less people that were aware of her, the better off she was. And the better off I was for it as well, though I doubt she cared so much about that.
        After one final bout Fenrey waved off his challenger and invited me into the ring. There was a barrel of blunted swords to choose from in the centre of the yard, each blade more dented and crude than the last, and I picked myself one with a good grip that hadn't yet worn away to nothing and stepped in with Fenrey.
        "Haven't seen you spar for some time. Have you been kept busy?" he asked without a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. If he was poking fun at me, he wasn't showing it.
        "I suppose you could say that. Potter made sure his horses were well fed the day before so we'd have something to do at least." There was enough smell on me to keep my time in the stables as a very close and vivid memory. "It surprises me how much those things shit."
        "It wouldn't surprise me if those things shit out the colours of the rainbow with all that he's feeding them," Fenrey danced about, no longer dropping his guard with me as he did the new recruit. That didn't stop my attacks from getting through his defense though, and my sword thrust through a hole in his swing to dig into the underpadded area between the shoulder and the arm. Fenrey yelped but kept his footing and back stepped away from me.
        "You lost your arm," I commented.
        "And you've lost your dignity," Fenrey retorted, but not without some air of assurance.
        For the second time in two days I was taken aback; a new record. "Where does this come from? I hope it's not an attempt to shake my confidence in beating you." I began another assault, but my words rang hollow to my own ears.
        "No. It came from Jarrhen."
        "And since when do you believe the things Jarrhen says?"
        Fenrey hesitated, leaving himself wide open. My steel rang off his left arm with a loud -whap.- "Well, it's not just him, actually. It's the whole bloody garrison. They think since you've been doting on this girl, you're becoming soft. We've all heard you defending the girl in conversation, and the fact that you're keeping her locked up in your own room away from the others, trying to protect her and whatnot like you're a father trying to keep his daughter away from boys coming to court her away."
        "If only that was the case," I grumbled. I backed off after an assault to favour my sore arm, the one Kelna accidentally stabbed back before we left for Scurge. I didn't use it for anything, but even just swinging it around while walking was enough to remind me of it.
        "Argyn," Fenrey paused for a few seconds, running something through his mind no doubt, "what is this girl to you?"
        -An annoyance,- I thought, but it didn't quite seem right to me. More like the circumstances surrounding her were the more irritating aspects of my current life, but as such she was still the cause. "Duty," I responded.
        "Duty," he confirmed, again running this through his head before speaking up once more. "The duty Commander Blare gave to you?"
        "The same."
        "And you'll follow it through to the end?"
        "If it has one."
        "And if it doesn't?"
        I shrugged. Fenrey looked unpleased with my answer, but he stopped pestering me with questions all the same. Kelna watched from ringside, silent as ever. Again our blades clashed but now with less attention. Both our minds were set apart, both of us silent but for the clangs and twangs of metal on metal, and we both thought our thoughts in a farce of a spar. I was irritated by Fenrey's blunt questioning and his apparent inability to learn anything; Kelna was an endurance to watch over but duty was duty and his assumptions about me were off the mark. I never abandoned my duties and I didn't expect many others here abandoned theirs either, save a small few, among which was Jarrhen and his pests, but Fenrey wasn't the kind I'd see shirk his responsibilities, yet the way he spoke and the way he acted--in front of me, especially--he seemed to build up some sort of wall around himself that told me he wanted others to see him as a tough and unsympathetic man, as if it would make him seem more like a warrior to them.
        But I had seen his tears in Scurge and his stances always faltered under my stare. I knew this mask he wore was not his true face. Would that he knew it as well.
        "Mind if I have a dance?" a familiar voice cackled behind me. I was off guard for a moment and Fenrey got a hit in but didn't cheer, instead he looked at our guest who had joined us.
        "Find another sparring partner, we're busy." I hadn't the time nor the patience for Jarrhen but he stayed all the same. He brought Pattric with him to even out the numbers, not that I had any intention for confrontation.
        "I wasn't looking for a spar, Argyn, nor was I asking -you,-" his eyes trailed off mine towards ringside, towards the greenish girl huddled up by a wooden pillar. "How 'bout it, love? Care for a jig? You look like you could use one, brighten your spirits and whatnot."
        I stopped sparring. "Keep your hands and eyes off her, Jarrhen." Easy now, keep it calm.
        "Try as I might, I can't quite keep that promise. She's a good specimen, indeed. Agreed, Patrric?" He had a sneer not on his face but in his words that cut back and forth like a jagged knife.
        "Agreed. A fine and comely lass, you wot," that squeaking weaselly voice of his, "I'd take her and never give her back, I would."
        "Is that a threat?" said calmly, naturally, just a simple question, no need for insinuations. They wanted a reaction, that was all. I wouldn't give them that much.
        "More like an understanding we've both come to. We understand why you want to keep this girl all to yourself now. She's pretty and quiet and loyal and young. With that hair covering her face you wouldn't even know she's denborn."
        Aside from the tail and the horns and the scales and the arms and legs. But that's what he wanted me to say, right?
        A silence, waiting for a response not given, then: "The perfect woman, wouldn't you say?" That smirk-under-skin showed blithely now. This was a game and he was waiting for my move, but I hadn't the faintest for how it was played.
        Instead I chose to ignore him. "Ready yourself, Fenrey," I turned to my partner and squared off.
        "Right," he said, sounding unsure of the situation.
        We continued our training with their eyes on us. Uncomfortable though it was, so long as they kept away from Kelna I could handle it.
        The sun eventually found its way through the cloud screen and warmed the yard. Many spare were put on hold for small breaks but Fenrey and I kept going, fighting in the strengthening noonday sun. Jarrhen and Pattric still watched us and I could feel their impatience. I glimpsed at Jarrhen out of the corner of my eye. His dark brown hair was somewhat neatly brushed and he had a shadow of a beard growing on his face which he normally kept well shaven. His eyes were cold steel, glinting with some sort of intent probably malicious, not actually watching us spar but thinking of something while doing so. Though he was shorter than me by a small amount he was built more with muscle than I was and he was wise enough to keep his physique hidden under bulky padding. He liked it when people didn't realize how strong he actually was so he could upset them in contest; the greater the boasting the greater the humiliation. There was a reason why I didn't try to provoke him all too often.
        After a while the silence became too much for Jarrhen to bear. "Your orphan is in danger, Argyn," he said in a blank tone.
        I motioned for Fenrey to stop. "What do you mean?"
        Having finally gotten attention, a wry smile curled on Jarrhen's lips. I immediately regretted talking to him, but I could feel some worry growing heavy in the pit of my stomach. "Jarov is meant to return from his assignment today."
        I winced at Jarov's name. Both he and Connor Londring worked directly under Commander Blare and acted as second-in-commands. They were both much older than the rest of us, not as old as Blare but they had fought in the War all the same, but unlike Blare Jarov had never grown to accept the denborn living here in Beren. His standing was still fuelled by the sentiment bred and grown in the time of the War and he showed no signs of ever having respect for denborn. He was of the mind to slaughter every beast that he set his sight on, and were it not for Blare he might have made good on his promises. If he were to find out we were keeping a denborn with us he most certainly wouldn't have let her stay here for much longer.
        "Not even Blare would be able to keep Jarov from your orphan," Jarrhen continued, "not that she'd be safe here regardless. We all know he'd make an example of her sooner or later."
        "Why are you telling me this?" I demanded. The clouds began to shift again and the yard grew darker.
        "I'm only warning you, Argyn. That's all."
        "Liar."
        "Why do you say that?" He made a comic face of false surprise. "This orphan's family was killed, her town destroyed, not to mention such a girl being born a monster . . . it's all too sad for words, isn't it?" His attempt to sound sincere was grating, though Pattric seemed to almost believe him, though this was an almost believable mummer's show anyways, with the exception that I wasn't being entertained.
        “Why all the interest now, Jarrhen? A few days ago you wanted her gone, now you want to give her a dance and some comfort?” Fenrey said, surprising me. When it came to Jarrhen, Fenrey liked to keep quiet, avoiding confrontation. Part of me admired him for that, not to mention a small portion of envy for being able to ignore someone so irritating. Nevertheless he found some sort of courage to speak up as he did. “Blare gave Argyn responsibility over the girl, so you’d best do what he says regarding her.”
        “Argyn isn’t my commander, boy. And neither are you,” Jarrhen spat at him, not angrily but condescendingly all the same.
        “So you’ve told me about Jarov. Thank you,” I said sincerely, or as sincerely as I could in such an instance. Jarov would definitely be a threat to the girl even with myself and Blare around. “Now piss off.”
        A vein pulsed in Jarrhen’s forehead. “I would be more appreciative if you were a little more grateful.”
        “If you’re looking for compensation, you’ll have to get it somewhere else,” Fenrey said before resuming a battle stance against me. He didn’t look the slightest bit smug for talking back to Jarrhen, though I figured he must have wanted to do it for a long time.
        I noticed Jarrhen’s bewilderment. He wasn’t expecting resistance from Fenrey, so he made a small motion to get Pattric involved. “What have’s a proposition for you, Argyn. The first thing Jarov’s going to do when he gets here is hunt the girl down and gut her. With you being her handler, that means he’ll come to you first,” Pattric spoke as if he had memorized the lines beforehand.
        “Blare won’t let him hurt the girl,” I said back, only half-sure of my words.
        “Obviously you haven’t seen Jarov around denborn. There’s a reason why he doesn’t get sent out very often,” Jarrhen smiled. He wasn’t lying, I knew that much. There were stories of dead denborn on the roads that Jarov traveled; what they were killed for was trifling. Jarov’s ventures never went beyond human settlements and he was always accompanied by a party of our own to keep an eye on his temper. “Blare would be nothing more than a swinging door between him and a denborn, and you a cobblestone.”
        “Get back to the proposition.” The last thing I wanted was for him to make me doubt myself or Blare. I figured I’d humour him and listen to his request, though I had no intention of accepting anything of his.
        “Gladly,” Jarrhen breathed deeply to rid himself of any leftover frustration. “The girl is not safe with you, Argyn. Jarov will turn your room upside-down looking for her. Same goes for Fenrey’s, so don’t think you can stow her away under his bed. Anyone he considers your friend is going to be questioned and searched. He won’t rest until he finds her.”
        “He won’t find her.”
        “He’ll find her and kill her.”
        I ignored that. “So what then are you suggesting?” -As if I don’t already know.-
        Jarrhen clasped his hands behind his back and tried to give an honest smile that looked like it would better belong on a snake. “Well, if he is going to search your friends first, wouldn’t it be wiser to hide her in the last place he’d suspect?”
        “And where might that be?” I tried to hold in a sigh but my disillusioned voice gave it away. I had thought he’d have come up with a better proposition than this.
        “With your enemies, of course,” Fenrey gave the answer and Jarrhen snorted.
        “I’d like to believe we’re on better terms than that,” Jarrhen shook his head, “but yes. He wouldn’t check my room, that much I can guarantee you. He knows I’m not terribly kind towards the denborn.”
        “That doesn’t mean anything. He’ll look everywhere for her, not just in the obvious places. What makes you think he’ll skip your room?”
        “Because I’ll be helping him with the hunt.” There was that smile again. “I will simply tell him I’ve already looked through my room and he’ll ignore it.”
        “You sound so sure of yourself. Would he really just accept your word as truth? Would he trust you with looking hard enough? And if he did search your room and find her there, what then? He’d probably kill you for lying to him.”
        Jarrhen shrugged. “Such are the risks. But it’s the best chance you’ve got to keep her safe.”
        “Safe? In your room?” Fenrey’s words echoed my thoughts. Kelna may be kept away from Jarov’s grasp for a while in there, but then she’d be with Jarrhen for an indefinite period of time. None of this sounded enticing at all.
        “I appreciate your concern Jarrhen, but I’ll take my chances with Jarov.” I cut our conversation there and picked up my sword again. I could see a small fury glinting away in his eyes but I dismissed it as I dismissed him.
        “Do you think that’s wise, Argyn? Do you think you’re making the right decision? Keep in mind this isn’t for you, this is for her. If she knew Jarov, I believe she’d seek any kind of refuge.”
        “Then let’s ask her,” I replied, and looked over to Kelna. “Kelna, would you like to spend a few nights with Jarrhen here?”
        The girl had a look of subdued surprise on her face when I called to her. I expected her to not give a response, but she shook her head.
        “Sorry Jarrhen. If you need someone to warm your bed, mayhap Pattric here could help,” I offered a greasy smile of my own, then took it away as quickly as it appeared. “Now piss off.”
        Jarrhen came at me with a sword he had gripped sometime when I wasn’t looking. I couldn’t tell if it was blunted or not but I brought my own sword up to meet with his and the two blades screamed off each other. I careened back, struggling to stay on my feet but Jarrhen came after me again, swinging harder and harder with every step. I could do little more than block his blows, but Jarrhen’s strength began to show through. Fenrey was yelling something I couldn’t hear over the clangs of our swordplay. Almost every thrust was aimed at my head and every time I blocked it the metal shrieked in my ears like a wailing banshee. Jarrhen was shouting curses at me, none of which I picked up on either. All my focus was on deflecting his attacks. I had no opportunity to counter.
        All of a sudden my feet gave away and I fell hard on my arse. Jarrhen had kicked away my legs, making me sprawl out backwards and nearly lose the grip on my sword. I scrambled, sustaining hits on my legs and torso as I pushed away from him with all my force, but his speed matched mine and I couldn’t find an opening with which to stand up. Eventually he towered over me, hacking blindly away without control, his hair and eyes as wild as his swings.
        With no window to launch an attack of my own, much less the strength to swing my sword on my back, I managed to prop the point on my blade into the dirt and I held my sword at an angle to deflect most of his hacks. He kept trying to cut away at the same part, leading to an almost never ending display of brute force, hoping to eventually shatter the blade at the breaking point (that is, if was aware he was doing any of this at all).
        He must have realized at some point, as his sword found a different angle to come down on. In a split second, I noticed him lift it up above his head, poised to bring it down on me in a thrust instead of a swing. Without thinking of it I swung my arm sideways, managing to catch the blade on my forearm and clubbed it away. The point dug into the ground beside my head with a crashing -thud,- and with that it was over. Pattric wrangled his leader away from me as Fenrey pounced in, grabbing me under the arms and dragging me a safe distance away. I finally managed to rise with his help and my right hand felt swollen with pain. -First my arm now my hand,- I sulked, stretching and contracting my palm and rubbing where it hit the blade. Thank the gods it was a blunted blade after all.
        Blunted, yet still dangerous. Even without a point a thrust to the head or throat could still prove fatal, something that Jarrhen knew in the back of his mind. He was still being restrained by Pattric and a few other men who had jumped in when the fight became much too one-sided. He was relatively calm now but his eyes screamed fury. He shook off his handlers and spat on the ground and left the training yard in a swagger, but not before shooting me a glare and an unusual glance in Kelna's direction.
        I suddenly felt cold, the result of my sweat rapidly cooling now that I wasn't struggling for my life. Our duel had drawn a crowd of uneasy watchers, no one certain of what happened or why. Everyone suspected it was due to the girl, naturally, and that I had defended her. They weren't entirely off the mark, but the way they whispered made it sound like Jarrhen was the good guy in all of this and I was some sort of incubus slave. My head swam as my adrenaline dropped and my frustration rose.
        "Ignore them, Argyn. I'll tell them all what really happened," Fenrey tried to sound comforting, but I was too exhausted to acknowledge it.
        "I don't care." It was all I could say. It was all I felt like saying. This orphan had gotten me into more trouble than I cared for and every day brought another hurdle to stumble over and desperately try to stay upright. Potter one day, Jarrhen the next with Jarov arriving soon . . . I was too tired to deal with all of it. Now with whispers behind my back and assumptions and accusations I was becoming an outcast.
        I wanted to sleep and forget about all of this. Engal, Scurge, whatever comes next; it was all too much to absorb at once. I wanted to return to my relatively peaceful life of a few weeks back.
        But when were the gods ever kind?
        "You should wash yourself, Argyn. You look haggard," Fenrey pointed out.
        His suggestion was sound but I couldn't find the motivation to do any of the preparation. I'd fall asleep on my bed immediately after entering my room, damned if it was Kelna's or not. It struck me that I had given her my bed to sleep in and I only just realized how foolishly generous I was toward her. I sighed.
        "Well if not you then that girl. It seems she needs a wash now as well," Fenrey said, and I didn't understand.
        "What do you mean?" I asked, and he pointed to her, to the orphaned denborn girl that had watched the fight in silence.
        She was still sitting by the wooden post, her knees brought up to her chest and her face nuzzled in the crevice between her knees, with a spreading pool of what looked like water puddled around her.
 
---
 
        I didn't speak to her. Partly out of anger, partly out of embarrassment for her and I, and partly out of pity. It was that weird melange of emotions that had occasionally come to me since I found her. I felt them so often they all felt like a single, new emotion yet to be named. Whatever it was however, it wasn't something I enjoyed feeling.
        For the longest while I didn't bother scrubbing her. Not that she needed it anyways as she hadn't done any of her share of the work the past few days, instead using her time to sulk or sleep or cry or all three. This time was no different either. She didn’t bother washing herself on her own so the two of us sat in the cramped bath as the water grew colder.
        As time passed, I thought to myself. Lately my only thoughts revolved around this scaly brat and not all of them were good. She goes wailing mad when she cuts herself, keeps away from others including me now (though I suppose that was partly my doing), and pisses herself in public. She was young, but not -that- young. She was nearly a woman grown, in fact I always assumed denborn matured quicker than humans on average. Perhaps not all races are like that? Or perhaps the trauma that plagued her was worse than I imagined.
        That trauma . . . Engal. It all came down to Engal, didn’t it? A mother dead, a home town burnt to ash and cinder. But she didn’t see the aftermath, did she? Everything was reported to her second-hand, she hadn’t seen the destruction. Was that solace for her, or anguish? Being told your mother was dead, opposed to seeing her dead with your own eyes, which was worse? Which caused deeper scars? Would I ever know? Did it matter? Of course it mattered. Would I ever understand it? Probably not. So why am I here pushing unreasonable demands on her? Because she needs to move on? Move on to what? Life? What life? The only life she knew went up in flames. A life elsewhere, then? In another town, perhaps another kingdom? And suffer the same fate? Hopefully not. Would I care either way?
        Of course I would care. I supposed that’s where the pity part of my feelings came from.
        I cocked my head back and stared at the ceiling. I closed my eyes. Who was I trying to fool? Society despised the denborn and the general masses either shunned, ridiculed or oppressed anything non-human. I thought I was a part of them but I discovered that I wasn’t and so I was eager to assimilate with the pressurized opinions of my peers.
        No . . . it wasn’t that I wanted to join them, it was that I was afraid to be cast out and ostracized. Anyone showing sympathies towards denborn are treated no different than denborn themselves. Such was the way the realm worked. Should I dote too much on this girl, I’d find myself stripped and exiled from the outpost, even with Blare’s protection. That was how Blare kept his post, he never showed any more amiability towards denborn than necessary. He defended them as much as possible without being seen as an apologist. His wisdom was sharp thanks to whetstones of years and experience. That, and the fact he could crush anyone that spoke out against him.
        Yet here I was, without Blare’s strength or wisdom, in their place I was given an unhealthy affection for this orphaned monster girl and a growing resentment for those that made her suffer.
        Empathy. -That’s- the emotion I was feeling all this time.
        “Arms up. Might as well use this water while it’s still warm,” I said, startling her with my suddenness. She didn’t turn to look at me, but she obeyed. I washed her arms and torso, watching the cloth run slick over her colour-changing scales and finding myself somewhat mesmerized. It didn’t feel like she had eaten much as of late, as I drew the cloth over her ribcage and could feel the taut skin pulled over each bone. Her face didn’t look any more sallow, due to the scales on her cheeks, mayhap.
        I scrubbed her tail as she washed her lower parts. She was noticeably squeamish when I rolled its tip between my forefingers. She never spoke up, but it was obvious that it made her uncomfortable. I couldn’t help but smile, and before I knew it I was laughing and teasing her with this. Strange was that; my mood swings were as unpredictable as hers. It felt good to laugh again however, and I realized it was the first time I had laughed in some great while.
        “Don’t,” she said, startling me this time. Her face was flushed. I complied, but not before letting out a childish giggle.
        She didn’t mirror my amusement. -I guess denborn tails are more sensitive than human ones.- I laughed aloud at that, and Kelna pouted at me. -Finally, some emotion. Perhaps I should continue . . .-
        I didn’t. Her face went back to its usual blank expression tinged with sorrow, but she looked a bit livelier than before. She had taken to cleaning her feet by herself which left me nothing to do but watch her.
        “Why did you make water in the yard? Why didn’t you tell me you needed to use the privy?” I asked, a little too indelicately. “Did you not want to ask for help? Was it because I was too busy sparring to pay attention?”
        I merely kept her in the corner of my eye while in the courtyard, if only to make sure she didn’t take off by herself. I didn’t really pay much attention to her. Nevertheless, Kelna refused to answer immediately. A girl had her secrets, I supposed.
        But she did eventually answer as we left the bath. “I don’t know,” she said meekly.
        “Don’t know? Why is that?”
        This time she didn’t answer at all, except with a look of frustrated confusion, the confusion you’d get from exhausting all the answers within yourself and coming up with nothing. I accepted her silence but didn’t quite understand it myself and towelled her off as I pondered to myself. As I thought, she was looking thinner than usual, her skin pale as pale could be, her eyes still diamond-blue.
        She wrapped herself in one of my cloaks (her clothes were still drying) and stood outside the entrance to the bath room. I gathered my things and followed her.
        As I left the room however, a large dark shape came towards us from the dining quarters, pounding down the cobbled floor with thunderous footsteps. It was the shape of a man with a face contorted with wrath and malice.
        It was Jarov Skyward.
        “A bloody fucking denborn, in -my outpost?-“ A bellow, a roar. A blade produced, a dirk; no, a shortsword, it only looked like a dirk in comparison with his size. Blare was big but he wasn’t like this. Jarov was a moving fortress.
        I instinctively put myself between him and Kelna. I placed my hand on my sword’s grip but hesitated. If I showed him any sign of aggression, he might cut my throat before I could unsheathe my weapon. I’d have to rely on persuasion. “Sergeant Skyward, please-“
        “Out of my way Gallandro, or I’ll take your head off as well,” he growled. Men gathered at the end of the hallway as they heard the commotion, each face glowing with excitement and anticipation. Only a few with worry. I’m sure I was one of them. To add to it, Fenrey’s face wasn’t among the audience.
        Sergeant Skyward towered over me by a head and then some and he was twice as thick as me, all muscle. The features of his face were drawn in a horrid amalgamation of pure hatred and fury. Whatever I wanted to say to him got caught in my throat. His eyes were a blazing reddish-brown to match his fire-touched hair. Two long braids swung from side to side in his lumber and whapped against his armour in a chilling rhythm--not just simple leather armour either, full plate.
        “Commander Blare said not to let any harm come to the girl,” I sputtered. I figured it had as much chance of stopping him as an open door but it was all I could say in the moment. The crowd at the end of the hall looked on, unwilling to help.
        “Blare’s words are as meaningful as a prayer in the underworld.” He was two metres away from me now.
        I raised my arms up to my sides, palms facing him. I wouldn’t back down, couldn’t. Raising a sword against a superior was insubordination, and in this situation Jarov would make sure to deal out punishment quickly and brutally. This was the only action I could take to protect the girl who had already lost so much.
        He brought his sword up under my chin. I felt its point push against the skin there for but a brief moment, and I thought he was going to stall for a second and explain to me his threat, but all too soon the point broke through the skin and dug a fingernail’s length into my jaw. I could barely feel it, but there was still a sharp sensation of pain for a brief moment. Blood broke out and dribbled down my neck and collarbones. My mouth shut automatically. I breathed through my nose in harsh rasps and stopped thinking of everything.
        Everything but Kelna.