RHYS TORLIN IS ON THE MOVE. With only his wits and ideals, he infiltrates Synketros in hopes of unlocking the secret to its soldiers' loyalty. When a plan goes awry and found friends putting themselves into trouble to save him, Rhys must choose betw...
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2412, Strilaxis 18, Jyda
He started growing tired of sauntering in and pretending he owned the place. He lost count of how many times he did it, and he was doing it again, this time, in the kitchens. Despite taking half a day of stalking people in order to find where Synketros cooked meals to power an entire mountain, he arrived at his destination an hour before dinner.
How could he tell the time? Simple. After spending a night and a full day here, he had become proficient at deciphering the different gongs ringing in the entire place at random times throughout the day. Then, at night, the lights would go down and slowly plunge the place into darkness, forcing everyone to sit still and sleep. It was literally black when the last of the light rods died out. He knew because he tried sneaking out when his unwilling roommates were sleeping and had to duck back in out of sheer cowardice. There's simply no way he would brave sneaking around the induced void.
So, he would have to execute his plans in broad rodlight, even if it meant entering a random room and being shoved straight into the mess he'd walk into.
This became the case when he passed an ornate meeting room of some sort, glimpsed of the velvet-cushioned seats around an elliptical table in the middle, and the blinding chandelier fixed on the ceiling. The sight did little to prepare him for the chaos that was the kitchens.
The moment he swung the door to the kitchens in, a mass of steaming trays of food stacked on top of each other rushed towards his face. It took all his willpower to swallow his yelp as he moved out of the way.
"Hey, watch it, kid!" a gruff voice shouted from the inside as the server scrambled out the door. Where would they bring it? To the Sovereign herself? Was she here somewhere? "If you're here to clean, we won't be finished until the final hour of the fourth quarter."
A lie. Dinner has half an hour left, and whatever's left on the tables and the preparation room would be split by the kitchen staff. They wouldn't be willing to share with a runty cleaner boy, which was unfortunately Rhys at the moment. Not that he wanted another slimy fairy potion down his throat, but Hexen's underpants, that soup looked so appealing. Should he stay permanently in the kitchens?
He fixed the band on his sleeves, swiped from the real cleaner on his way out of his room. He beamed at the tall fairy donning a stained apron over his standard tunic and trousers. A bandana pushed blue hair off his forehead and away from the food. Either a banshee or nature fairy then.
"Sorry, was just passing by for any maintenance work," Rhys chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. He'd have to play someone stupid and bumbling enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time to deflect any suspicion he came here with a purpose. "Do you have any? A pipe not working? Perhaps dulled knives?"
He kept talking, pointing out every flaw in the utensils, the floor, and the clothes. Slowly, he eased closer to the kegs at the far side of the room. Like the maze in the lobby, they contained endless amounts of ingredients. He came here for one thing, though. A large clump of juripan leaves. Perfect for seasoning to taste. At the same time, consuming large amounts would make anyone wide awake for more than a day. If he's going to combat a potion inhibiting focus and cognitive ability, might as well add something like this too.
