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 30, Velpa
Kymalin wove through the throng of people present in the open ground with her. It was a rare occurence to have everyone in the camp be gathered in one place. She woke up that morning expecting to see Raena for another training session. Instead, what she got were the heavy footfalls of leather boots outside her tent.
When she got out to check what's going on, the soldiers around her had one answer: the Heiress has called.
So, without further ado, Kymalin joined the stream of people leading to gods-knew-where and ended up in the same place where her training with Raena was going to be held. Except there were at least a thousand heads present.
The amount of people present almost sent Kymalin in hiding. She wasn't used to dealing with these types of crowds and growing up in the Temple of Souls where banshees were as scarce as harvest in a famine with how huge the whole expanse was. Thanks to the people ushering her to the center of the gathering, she was locked into the crowd's embrace. It'd be awkward to fight the direction of the trickle. Awkward and noticeable.
She couldn't have that.
A flash of brown hair caught her eye. She turned to see Raena stride with enough elegance she could afford in the middle of fairies elbowing each other just to avail a spot in the field. The Magistrate held her chin up, eyes searching through the mess for something Kymalin wouldn't be able to name. Her injured arm hung in a sling, reminding Kymalin of what went on the previous training session.
Raena had shown up like that one day, claiming of some accident in one of the missions she was sent in to facilitate another batch of training. It's true that the Magistrate disappeared for a few days before today and Kymalin ended up sparring with Filnar for quite some time. She beat the man every time, giving her some sort of confidence.
It also told her enough that Raena was just in another league of her own, hence her prowess in combat and why Kymalin was having a hard time trying to catch up.
"What happened to your arm?" Kymalin rememebred asking Raena when they saw each other again.
The Magistrate shrugged. "Accident," she said, wincing at the apparent pain the action brought her. "Shall we start the training?"
And on they went, despite Raena's busted arm. She wielded the other sword more efficiently than the last time. By the time afternoon rolled, Kymalin was soaking with her own sweat and her muscles throbbed from being battered by Raena's kicks and punches. She never did wound Kymalin but that's beside the point.
Now, as Kymalin wove through the crowd, she kept her eyes on the Magistrate. Raena might know something about the werid things happening around at camp. Just yesterday, Kymalin noticed the sky flickering again. This time, the intensity and the duration between each flicker was greater. Something might be happening to the sky and it might fall on them.
She watched Raena turn to another man with smooth, dark skin and a permanent scowl. It couldn't be more than Sylfior Ivanche. Raena exchanged a few words with the other Magistrate, their faces pulled into a passive frown. Kymalin was too far to hear what they were talking about and the chatter of begrudged soldiers and small talk around her didn't help.
Other people, both fairies and half-bloods, joined Raena until they formed their own circle in the midst of squirming soldiers. Kymalin saw Raena's gaze flick to the person Kymalin wasn't thrilled to see. Felson Ventora. How in Pidmena's name did he make it from Carcalet that fast?
Kymalin was about to reach Raena when gasps echoed as one in the crowd. Silence flooded the space as heads turned towards and eyes followed a woman with dark hair tied back in a strict bun, black coat adorned with glinting pins and medals, tight-fitting trousers, and high boots stride into the rim of the crowd.
"It's a pleasure to see you all here today," the Heiress said, her voice carrying well into the whole field even without opening her mouth fully. "It warms my heart. Now, take your place and sit. This isn't going to be long."
The whole crowd bustled. Fabric rustled, and a couple of murmurs floated throughout the tense silence. Kymalin dropped into a cross-legged position as easily as falling down and tucked her legs close to her. Beside her sat an old human with wrinkled skin, graying moustache, and a balding head. The sight jarred her for some reason but her attention was stolen once more when the Heiress delivered her news.
"There is a traitor in this place," the Heiress said. Gasps rang at once, reflecting the group's sentiment on the matter. The Heiress smiled, the whiteness of her straight teeth seemingly being able to reach the back of the crowd, down to where the Magistrates were. "They seek to undermine our unity and drive us into chaos by playing children's tricks."
More murmurs erupted in Kymlin's vicinity. She turned to see the meager line of Magistrates formed by the six of them sporting grim expressions on their faces, Raena included. "I will need help in flushing out these traitors , how many of them are in this camp and those waiting outside it," the Heiress continued. "Anyone who wishes to volunteer, please stand up."
Kymalin's eyebrows arched. Oh, was that why the Heiress urged them all to sit? So that she could remember anyone who dared volunteer for her dangerous task?
Nobody moved. Heads turned to their neighbors and began whispering in low tones. Everyone hesitated to take the Heiress on her offer. Kymalin could only understand why. They would gain the Heiress's attention and, perhaps, praise, but they would earn the ire of their comrades. Carrying out the investigation wouldn't help in maintaining the friendships built in the camp over time.
She looked around at the sea of faces she remembered but never knew. All these people have someone in the camp they would consider as friends. She had been here for over a year and had no attachment of that kind. Sure, she loved hanging out in the gambling tables but the soldiers who frequented them as she did wouldn't be the people who would stick out their necks for her in battle.
In summary, Kymalin had no friends in this camp and that made her the perfect candidate to aid the Heiress in catching the traitors in Cardovia. She has no attachments, no biases, and certainly no sides she would be forced or hesitate to take. Plus, she could get the chance to beat Sylfior's record if things go as planned.
Before Kymalin could think more into it and before it scared her into not moving, she shot up, gathering whipping gazes and mouths hanging partially open. No doubt her blue hair stood out in the vast field. She looked around, looking for people like her who dared stand up. She was the only one. She clicked her tongue. Cowards, the lot of them.
When she looked at the Heiress perched at the lip of the crowd, she felt an unredeemable sense of pride unfurling in her gut. Yes, she was the only one brave enough to stand opposite the Heiress and she would do a damn well job at it, if it would bring her closer into getting her wish fulfilled. Veril came not too long ago, informing her of her brother's state. She had to hurry.
The Heiress stared Kymalin down, dark eyes narrowing and lips curving into a sly smile. Then, with her modulated but booming voice, she announced, "You better get started, Kymalin Iaro," she said. "The job is yours."
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