“Of course, Captain.”
Antar led her toward one of the back tables where the youngest soldiers were pretending to be absorbed in their food. There were a handful of men and women at the table, all within a decade of her own age.
There were two groups, one at each end of the table. The first seemed younger, wearing simple leather armor with training weapons strapped to their sides or leaning against the bench beside them. They were unforged, the uninitiated,Iryana assumed. The second group was older and wore proper hardened armor, something that would protect against more than a wooden practice sword. Only a few of them seemed to have weapons on their person, mostly sidearms like falchions and hand axes. Their real weapons would be forged.
In rapid succession, Antar introduced them. The forged soldiers were Vaneshta, Vabihn, and Pepha. The first unforged was a young woman named Lidishta, who was glaring at Iryana so fiercely that she didn’t hear the rest of the their names. Then Antar left her standing there awkwardly.
Not letting herself second-guess it, Iryana hurried to take a seat at the less-occupied end of the table, leaning her bow and bag against the bench and then removing her heavy cloak. How many years had it been since she’d shared a proper meal with others?
The unforged woman, Lidishta, continued to glare. She appeared to be the youngest, but the other unforged seemed to gravitate around her. Their bodies stayed angled toward her, and a few of them seemed to watch her, waiting for a reaction. As if she would decide what they thought of the newcomer. Iryana couldn’t see any reason for her social power other than perhaps beauty and confidence. Lidishta had smooth, wavy hair, unbraided and unadorned, and her face reminded Iryana of a fox’s: delicate and sensual.
She doubted beauty begot power in the brigade, but what did she know? Iryana frowned as she stiffly filled her plate with the simple dishes in the center of the table.
“So, Iryana, was it?GyenaIryana?” The unforged ringleader asked, pursing her lips and using the honorific like it was a slur.
Iryana braced herself. “I amfroma guardian family,” she clarified.
“So why’d you leave then?”
The forged soldiers also seemed fine to let Lidishta do the talking, too busy shoveling food in their mouths. It felt like ants were crawling across her skin.
“I moved away from the family years ago.” She shrugged, choosing her words carefully. “Major Karvek saw me take down a dakya and offered me his coin. Wasn’t much keeping me from leaving.”
“Why didn’t your family want you?” This got Lidishta a glare from one soldier, Vaneshta, but the others seemed unbothered.
Iryana stiffened, moving her hands under the table before anyone could see them shaking. Why had she agreed to this? “It was the other way around,” she said, partially true but far too simple. “They were too controlling, wanted me to be the perfect little guardian. I’m not.”
The girl hmm’d, nose wrinkled up like she’d smelled something bad. “You’re off to prove yourself then. Well, we will just have to see if you fit here. Life outside your safe little settlements is a bit more—eventful. We don’t hide behind our walls and hope the dakii move on. And here, there are more than beasts to deal with.”
And yet the walls of the fort were so much taller than her post’s.
Iryana clenched her teeth, but a snort from across the table drew everyone’s attention. Vaneshta stared at Lidishta with one of her brows raised. She was a woman of strong build, with a square face and a stern expression. The other soldiers looked up, listening as she spoke.
“Please,” Vaneshta chuckled. “You aren’t even forged yet. You don’t go on missions outside the fort. How many dakii have you even killed?”
None of the others dared laugh.
Lidishta turned red and snapped, “More than she has, I bet.”
“You sure about that?”
With a slam of her hands on the table, Lidishta forced herself up and stormed out of the hall, the other initiates trailing after.
Iryana took a slow breath. She wasn’t ready for this; she was already making enemies.
Vaneshta greeted her with a salute of her cup. “Don’t worry about Lidishta. She’s got promise, but boy does she need to be reminded of her rank, or lack thereof, occasionally.”
Iryana offered her a small, grateful attempt at a smile.
The rest of the table thankfully returned their focus to their meals and drink. Iryana put a spoonful of near-white porridge into her mouth, hoping to deter more questions. It could have used more butter, or perhaps a bit of honey, but it was warm. Iryana swallowed it down happily, already scooping up another bite.
While she ate her breakfast, she reviewed the information she knew about how the brigade might operate. Hoping to come up with a strategy.
Iryana remembered the military hierarchy, at least roughly, though things could have changed in the fifteen years since the dakii came. Officers had always been chosen from the Ketsan, the nobility, and were to be addressed by their rank. Captains were the lowest of the officers, and she had been introduced to two of them already. A major would lead a regiment, which she supposed Myura River was. And then, if things were the same, the entire brigade would be led by a general. Soldiers were just addressed with the general honorific of Sen or Sena, unless they became sergeants: the highest rank for a commoner.
She briefly wondered what rank Pyetar was; he had never mentioned one, but it wouldn’t matter if he kept his promise to leave her alone.
As an initiate, she doubted she’d spend much time around the officers, other than Captain Antar. If she kept making an enemy of the other initiates, she could end up in trouble. She needed more information.
