Every year, hundreds die within the walls of Basgiath War College. It's no surprise that many are those who choose the Riders Quadrant. Dragons do not tolerate much, but neither do the ruthless gryphons on the outside of the wards.
At least...
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・・・ ・・・ ・・・
"Still an asshole, I see." Cat folds her arms over her chest. "We've lost riders to Venin, too," Xaden states, still not looking at her. There's gotta be history there. "We're fighting alongside you, but I will not risk anyone's safety frivolously. I'm putting my life on the line—the lives of the people I care about—to bring you weaponry from Basgiath for that very reason. Behind those wards, I'm working for this war with more freedom than you all out here to complete our forge so we're ready for whenever dark-wielders and Navarre both come for us, inevitably."
Cat laughs to herself, then throws a glare in my direction. "Completing a forge? Viscount Tecarus would strongly argue with that statement. You've had not one but two," —she holds up two fingers— "chances to acquire the luminary. You've had what we asked for both times." "Out of the question," he bites out. I narrow my eyes. 'We'. They must be affiliated. This confirms that she and Xaden know each other, but you don't look at someone like that when all that's between you are business deals. Maybe Cat is short for something... Catherine?
"You're willing to let our entire kingdom fall prey to these monsters because, you're what?" she asks, cocking her head aggressively to the side. Catlina? Catalina? "Smitten?" she spits out, like the word tastes as bad as vomit. "Please. I know you better than that." "Cat!" Syrena snaps.
"What is she talking about?" I question, temporarily pausing my name inquiry. Something about the look she threw out is telling me I'm more involved in this discussion than I want to be. "Nothing of any consequence." His tone is startingly cold, and I frown. "We'll be discussing this later," I warn him. I don't remember my grandfather ever speaking to a Tecarus or anything similar. Viscounts, sure, but never any Tecarus.
"You know nothing where they're concerned," Xaden dismisses with a shake of his head. He only gives Cat a very brief glance to shut her rambling down. "The forge is our highest priority. As soon as we secure a luminary, we'll be operational and able to supply you in full. We have the rest of the material we need to begin, and that's all you get to know, because you're right, Syrena: I don't trust you. So, until then, there are twenty-four daggers in these bags." Syrena bites the inside of her lip in annoyance. "You have maybe a year until they're on your border," she warns, stepping closer to retrieve them. Tairn and I were speculating a similar time frame, but I can't be sure until I can get my hands on Grandpa's journals.
"Garrick will see to it that your next shipment is delivered. You know the location," Xaden says. He takes a few paces backward between the dragons but doesn't turn away. "It's near Athebyne. The secrecy is for them, not you." "I appreciate the honesty," I answer.
"We're all that stands between them and you," Syrena tells us as she reaches the bags. She passes the strap of one back to the man that had walked up with her. "You know that, right? Or are you still hiding your heads in the don't-tell-us-too-much-in-case-we're-interrogated sand like you were last year?" She lugs the other bag up onto her shoulder. "We know. We'll be ready," Xaden responds. She drags in a breath, then nods. "I'll do what I can to lessen the attacks on the outposts, but until we can openly say you're supplying us, it's like asking our forces to believe in specters. We've been scorned by ghosts once before." Her eyes jump up toward me, but snap back when Tairn's chest rumbles. "They don't trust you like I do."
