She forced her eyes back to her food.
Her team chatted about this and that, shouting down to other tables and interrupting those that walked past. Iryana didn’t know how to join in. She wasn’tsure how long she sat there, trying to come up with something to say or do, when the music immediately cut off, the room quieting.
Iryana turned to find Pyetar stalking across the hall, face eerily blank. Emotionless. All eyes were on him, the air thick with tension.
Her heart sped up with anticipation of whatever was about to happen.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Pyetar growled, leaning over a soldier deep in his cups.
The dark-haired soldier, a relatively young sergeant based on his belt, shrank slightly on the bench. “I’m sorry, Sen,” he squeaked out.
“What happened? Do you know?” Pepha whispered toward Vaneshta, twisted fully around in her seat like Iryana was.
“No idea,” Vaneshta mumbled. “Must have pissed Karvek off, though.”
“Your captain said you were so hungover this morning, you vomited in the middle of your patrol,” Pyetar seethed quietly.
If it wasn’t for how quiet the room remained, no one would have been able to hear. But his words carried easily across the silent room.
“I’m sorry, Sen,” the man repeated, looking like he might throw up right there too.
“You put your whole team at risk. You couldn’t hold your spear up when they had to fight off a pack of dakii. Your captain is injured because of your foolishness.”
Iryana flinched at the violence in Pyetar’s voice.
Eyes growing even wider, the man slid off his bench and collapsed onto the ground, as if bowing at Pyetar’s feet. “Please forgive me, it won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t.” Pyetar picked up the man’s large, wooden cup, held it over the man’s prostrated form, and slowly dumped out the ale. It splattered over the man’s head, dripping down his hair and neck. The soldier started shaking. “If you’re seen touching this stuff again, I will tie you to a tree outside the fort and let the dakii have you.”
Iryana couldn’t stop herself from staring, disgusted. Her family was strict, she had no illusions about that. There was little room for leeway when one mistake could doom the entire post and endanger countless villages further in thesettlement. But being hard didn’t mean being cruel. Pyetar was humiliating that soldier, threatening him with a painful death. It was too far for a hangover.
She looked around, wondering if someone was going to stop Pyetar. If anyone even could.
The man nodded vigorously against the puddle of ale around him as Pyetar loomed over him.
“Good. And in payment for your captain’s broken arm, this should help you remember.” Pyetar reached down and grabbed the man’s arm and wrenched it behind his back.
A sickening pop and a snap was followed by the man’s sharp scream.
Iryana barely stopped her mouth from dropping open.Thiswas why they feared him. Pyetar didn’t just enforce the rules with the settlements, but within the brigade too.
“Oh gods,” Pepha cried quietly.
“I am to be informed if he touches a drink. Is that understood?” Pyetar barked out to the other soldiers around them.
A chorus of “Yes, Sen” seemed to placate him.
As quickly as he had stormed in, Pyetar was gone. His ice blue eyes briefly flicking over her as he flew past their table.
That was how they dealt with fuckups here.
Panic soured Iryana’s throat. Gods, she was so tired of the feeling. It seemed to grow day after day, mounting until eventually she wouldn’t be able to hide it.
Unable to help herself, Iryana mumbled, “A dislocated shoulder and probably some torn ligaments or socket. Could even get some nerve damage from that. Or a fracture. For getting sick on patrol?”
“Of course,” Vaneshta snapped, drawing Iryana’s attention. “Putting your team at risk is one of the worst crimes out here. We have to be able to rely on each other. It’s the only way we can survive.”
It was harsh, but it made a grim sort of sense. The sickening pop of the man’s shoulder still echoed in her head though, the emotionless look on Pyetar’s face stamped into her memory.
