Midnight Moon

Chapter 43 - Heralds

Dawn came grey and overcast, and by afternoon the clouds hung heavy and low. There was no threat of rain, but the sunlight filtered through only weakly, leaving the day dark and grim.

The weather echoed Jate's mood as he paced around Tveyin, waiting for something to happen. He didn't expect a reply from the King, who was surely busy preparing an offensive, but now he had no way of knowing when plans were put into action. He could do nothing but sit and wait, and hope Veanna was saved even when he couldn't do it himself.

Jate ate meals that were tasteless and heavy, tended to Farilyth, and tidied up his appearance; but nothing filled the aching impatience and uselessness in the pit of his stomach. He wished he could scout ahead, could follow a trail, but he didn't know which way to turn. He found some training dummies and spent a couple of hours practising swordplay, working aching muscles that had not been properly drilled in weeks.

As the light failed, he returned to the barracks. He began to sharpen his sword - for what purpose he did not know - but there came a commotion at the front gates to the outpost. Sheathing his weapon, he went to investigate. Two soldiers shuffled into the compound, heads ducked and shoulders hunched. A handful of other soldiers clustered around them, their questioning turning to jibes when their curiosity was shrugged off. The Colonel strode from her office and shooed the onlookers away, directing a few questions of her own at the newcomers before sending them towards the barracks.

One, built like a horse, had a gash running along one temple. The other, a lithe Corporal, sported a broken nose. They plodded past Jate silently, avoiding his gaze and shying away as though hoping their injuries wouldn't be noticed.

What did two low-ranking soldiers do to get beaten up? They hardly acted like they had won the fight. The Colonel didn't look concerned, though, and he strolled over to her as she watched the pair retreat.

"What happened to them?" he asked.

She shrugged. "They got pushed around a bit, breaking up a bar fight." She glanced at his expression and smiled slightly. "Their pride is hurt the most, don't worry. It'll teach them to de-escalate situations rather than running in fists first - or to pick their fights better, at least."

He frowned, surprised by her nonchalance. "Do things like that happen often?"

"They do out here," she said with a laugh. "I don't know what city life is like, Captain, but there are no grand missions here. We mostly deal with brawls, the odd bandit problem, and neighbourly disputes."

Jate raised his eyebrows. He was used to protecting dignitaries and trade routes, to serving nobles and royals directly. Even when he spent time on the city guard, he had been afforded a level of comfort and respect that seemed to be lacking away from the capital.

"Of course, if there were ever problems in the Southlands, we'd be doing more serious tasks," the Colonel continued, her manner turning solemn. "But we haven't had any proper trouble for years, thank the ancestors." She glanced at the clouds as if sending her prayer to the afterlife. "The folk in Hallenfeld have always been a lively bunch, though."

His head snapped to her, the name ringing in his ears. "Hallenfeld?"

"You know it?"

"In passing." He swallowed and gazed back to the barracks. Was it possible the pair of beaten soldiers had seen something in the area after he left? "I'll let you get back to your work."

The Colonel gave him a sideways glance but nodded amicably and strolled back to her office. Jate headed for the barracks and was relieved to find the two soldiers alone, sitting on a bed and talking in hushed voices.