KYMALIN IARO cannot give up. With her brother running out of time and their mother powerless, Kymalin embarks on a journey to find a cure. So when a powerful organization becomes her only hope, she has to prove she belongs to it, even if it means ge...
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2407 Diori 10, Reshpe
Kymalin tucked her arms to herself, keeping the jitters at bay. Around her sat six other soldiers under the same training division under Raena. It had been ages since Kymalin stepped foot outside the camp and seeing real trees with leaves rustling with the breezes felt so damn foreign. She scanned her companions' faces, looking for hints of wonder or unease. All she saw were passive stares and frowns, like they all just couldn't wait to get it over with.
The dagrine pulling their cart neighed and whine. Filnar, the half-blood soldier in charge of the transportation, cracked his whip. The animal quietned and focused on trodding along the well-worn path through the forests between Zoriago and Ansevir.
Kymalin blew a breath, hot air misting in front of her face due to the humid atmoshpere from being so close to the ocean. Unlike the cold drafts whistling through the undergrowth in the forests of Carleon, the forest in Desara felt like it was burning. The smell of sand and upturned silt mixed in her nose, almost confusing her. No wonder the dagrine felt skittish. Its poor hooves must hurt from stepping on mobile ground for so long.
Raena sat in the edge of the caravan, eyes darting here and there for any sign of ambush hiding in the trees or passing by alongside them on the road. The reasoning was there might be local forces on the lookout for strange, unauthorized carriages passing through their territory. With Raena watching each and every movement in the vastspace around them, she might be able to warn them to conceal their weapons and act like merchants shuold an inspection be due.
It's something that didn't make sense for Kymalin. If they were an organization focused on building armies and stuff, why would they need to conduct their business in the shadows and mask their movements as something else? She opened her mouth to ask Raena that but closed it again. The trainer would most likely snap at her to focus instead of giving a concrete answer.
Kymalin had learned that the hard way when it came to the Magistrates—the division heads in Cardovia. They were also inside the Heiress' close circle and she treats them a little bit differently than the rest of the soldiers in the camp. Raena was the Magistrate in charge of training new recruits and leading them in select missions.
Like this one.
When she first heard the news, Kymalin couldn't decide if she was to feel elated that she was finally getting out of camp and being assigned with a task that didn't involve mixing fairy potions in time for dinner or if she was to feel dread about what she would be expected to do. Raena hadn't told her much about this mission except for an advice to not let her hair loose when stuck in battle.
"You have freakishly long hair so if you want to keep that on your head, best to tie it back every time we go out," Raena had said. Then, she proceeded on pummeling Kymalin with her short but sharp sword.
The memory left a bitter aftertaste at the back of her tongue as her hand flew up to the back of her head. Her fingers felt the intricate grooves and curves of the braid Sylra, the resident hair stylist and wardrobe master, had weaved her hair into. It's been a year since she yelled rude things in front of the Ventora estate and she still haven't been able to defeat the Magistrate in a fair sparring session. It seemed like every year, Raena kept getting better and better at using her swords and Kymalin got worse and worse. Talk about unfair.
