Of Gods and Warriors ✓

Chapter 6

When there was still no sign of commander Karyk, it put Farren in a reasonably bad mood. It seemed as though she had injured herself for nothing, other than exploiting Lord Atruer's deal and causing him annoyance --which in other times Farren would have rejoiced, but now she needed answers.

At the very least, if she could have a look at the contents of the package, it would've soothed the stinging in her leg left by the intensive healing. And Klo seemed to have guessed her motives perfectly, because the sergeant let her nowhere near it, and Rendarr carried it around instead.

"As much as we adore you," she'd said, and Rendarr nodded, "we cannot really trust you with this."

Now that she came to think of it, she had almost forgotten about her own package she had received from her brother. Farren placed it on the table, beside her bowl of cold stew. She was the last to reach the mess hall for lunch, and it was all that was left.

She sat alone at the long wooden table as the cook finished cleaning up the counter.

Something soft and warm pressed up against her legs. She glanced down to see Pickle, a tabby cat their cook had rescued last winter. Kinallen's ground might be cold and hard, but the hearts of the young soldiers were not. Pickle had managed to exploit exactly that, and had achieved the bulk of a sizable pillow in no time.

Pickle nudged her leg with his head, purring softly.

As she fished in her stew for scraps of dried meat to give him, Rendarr sank into the seat next to her with a sigh, tiredly dropping the commander's package beside hers.

The packaging was similar. Paper-wrapped, both came in standard-sized thin-walled wooden boxes manufactured by the Dark Saints at the capital city, Byton. The only difference was Rodormann's seal, whereas Farren's package had her elder brother's name and address scrawled across one corner. Quite similar indeed.

Giving Rendarr a side-eyed glance, Farren slowly reached out, using one finger to push her own parcel towards him, and sliding the other one towards her. The switching has to be subtle. Farren tried to mask her movement by bending down and feeding pickle the meat scraps. Almost there-

"Do you take me for a fool?" Rendarr said, batting her hand away.

"Sort of," said Farren. Pickle's happy trilling as he gobbled up the meat scraps punctuated the taut silence between them.

"I found it, alright?" said Farren at last.

"Because I tripped on it," said Rendarr.

"Neither of which are good enough reasons to pry open a package addressed to somebody else, morons," said Karles, a sergeant of the archer squads as he slid into the bench opposite them. Followed by Karles, strode in several marksmen returning from their round at the village, armed with longbows, quivers slung over their shoulders.

Karles unclasped his cloak, tossed it onto the table and ran a tired hand through his mussed brown hair and sighed, like an exhausted parent whose kids wouldn't stop getting in trouble.

A couple years older than Rendarr, Farren and Klo; Karles had watched over the three when they'd first arrived in Kinallen, much like how Farren now did for Helmer.

"Look," he now said to Farren, "you could get fired for this. Alright? So stop this nonsense. Unless you can figure out some way to keep the seal intact after you're done tampering with it. Then you probably won't get caught. I recommend wax-"

"Don't you encourage her!" hissed Klo, who had come up behind him at that moment. "Anyway, Lieutenant Evander is coming in a moment. Pipe down, you lot."