The Old City

0.50: Date

Seneca fidgeted with his uniform. The starched fabric felt tight on his skin, like a straitjacket. He didn't see why he needed to dress up or participate in the ceremony. His role had been minor.

"Have you practiced your smile?" prodded Timoleon. His mentor shot him a knowing glance that said, 'I wish you would at least try to look pleased.'

Instead, Seneca replied through gritted teeth. "I don't see why I must. This is a war, not a beauty pageant."

"I keep tellin' you that optics matter. If you lack in one element of strategy, it is that. You would have been promoted a year ago if you'd just learned to fake a damn smile."

"If I'd been promoted, you'd have me doin' all sorts of complicated tasks. Didn't your last lieutenant end up runnin' logistics for the entire northern front? And the one before him. You had that guy figure out how to storm Castle Yltek. We lost eight hundred men on that siege."

"Exactly. We needed a better mind in that position. Yours is a gift the army needed desperately. We can't have you languishin' on the front lines where any stray arrow might kill you."

"I'd rather be with my brothers than stuck in the command center."

Timoleon snorted. "That's admirable, but stupid. Your life matters more than theirs."

At this, Seneca smiled. But it was a cold smile, filled with icy malevolence. "Say that again and I'll send you to the front lines, colonel."

The Corsair, that evening

Inside the Corsair, the desert had been transplanted into the oceanside Soran. It stood out as the only building made of red sandstone on Swimmer's Lane. Desert spices permeated the air along with the sweetness of hot bread and shades of garlic. Even the floor had been covered with the ruby sand of the eastern Shiorah, and they had to remove their shoes to sit on thick carpets that lay atop the grains. The ceiling was painted black, but dotted with light crystals that showed the Great Wolf, the Sand Whale, and the Northern Dragon, constellations as seen from the Shiorah.

"How did you find this place?" Seneca asked.

"My friend knows the head chef and brought me here a few months ago. I've wanted to bring you here, but there was never a good time."

"Well now is a good time." Seneca gave her a smile he hoped looked reassuring. "We should celebrate."

"What would we be celebratin'?"

"Anything you like. Endin' the Occupation, recruitin' new squad members, havin' a damn chance for once."

"Let's just celebrate you," Angelica suggested. She waited for their waiter to bring a bottle of wine, nothing expensive, but better than the swill Granny Anya served at the Mermaid's Tail. He popped it, then poured for each of them. Angelica raised her glass. "To you. For finally askin' me on a date."

Seneca blinked with shock. "I didn't do anything."

"You ended the Occupation, recruited new squad members, and finally plucked up the courage to take me to dinner. It seems to me you did quite a lot."

Seneca tried to hide his blush behind a sip of wine. Gods...is she flirtin' with me?

"I truly can't believe the change we've brought about," Angelica continued, cutting through his silence. "Just a few weeks ago, no one knew who we were. Now we have a Peacebringer. I never dreamed we could do this, let alone that others would follow us."

His wits came back to him in a flash, and he recalled Marcus's guidance. Breathe. Be confident. Compliment her.

"You are only reason we got anywhere at all. You always knew where to find an ally, and we would have been exposed without your Treehouse."