I spend the next little while making my way to the armorer near the barracks, making good time and avoiding interacting with anyone or drawing undue attention. The armory itself is behind a series of heavy, barred doors of the same dark wood and metal banding as the front gate of the keep itself. They are wide enough to allow three people to walk abreast either in or out, and the walls are lined with a thin layer of dull white nullstone to prevent too much loose essence from getting into the more sensitive areas of the armory to interact with stored enchanted items. Gratefully, it seems like nobody but the armorer is here, most people having already withdrawn what they would need for the day aside from the couple stragglers and late risers who will trickle in over the next couple hours.

  I approach the counter, glancing side to side looking at the various styles of display armor that ranges from current designs with modern enchantments all the way back to the earliest sets worn by the Vigil — simple leather reinforced with plate around essence-rich areas of the body. Behind each set of armor sits the evolving weapons of the Vigil as well up to the most recent styles the Vigil has been training in, single-edged chopping blades with serrated reverse faces for our standard arming swords. Vigil knights all receive the same basic training in standard gear but usually branch out into their own preferred armaments and armor suiting their essentia affinities and cultural fighting styles, so these examples are more of a history lesson than anything else.

  “If it isn’t the young slayer, interested in another lesson?” Sharp, elongated, drawn-out S's stop my gawking at the armor. I turn to greet the Armsmaster of the Vigil here, Theron Drakallo. He is taller than me by a head and a half and possessed of a fairly lithe build as is common for his people. Nearly all of his body is covered in iridescent scales with silvery-grey patches framing his face and eyes. He’s got a frilled hood that’s currently flat against his angular face, shaped to accentuate his large, weary amber eyes. His own equipment matches that of some of the earliest historical sets in the room. Though it is kept to a standard of enchantment that sets it high above even most modern sets.

  He's the single oldest serving member of the Vigil and it's really not even close. Garrick has been at it for nearly fifty years, I think, and I know that Theron trained him personally as a veteran at the time.

  Theron has always been one of my favorite people in the Vigil. His kind are looked at similarly to my own in this country, so we’ve been something of kindred spirits in recent years and I’d thoroughly enjoyed our long talks about history and enchanting theory. “Theron,” I salute him sharply with a fist across my chest, “Not here for a lesson today. I need to be getting back to the ward before too long, but I wanted to stop by and let you know I was okay in case word had made it here about the shape I was in the other day.” I know full well he would know. He knows everything that goes on here and most of what happens in the nearby city of Kharbon.

  “Yes, and what are you actually here for?” I've been expecting it, but he’s usually at least a little circumspect. He eyes me with a sharp gaze, his eyes blinking vertically along his slitted pupils — another detail that we’ve commiserated about.

  I run my hand through my hair bashfully, no good at subterfuge and knowing he knows it, “Alright, alright. I was hoping to get some gear replaced. My last outing saw most of my things be broken or worse. Armor in tatters, several daggers rendered useless by a young calamity, and I am entirely out of my imbuement phials.” I avoid telling any degree of lie, I've long been convinced that Theron has some natural ability to spot lies, so it would be pointless.

  “And why does someone who’s on bed rest need these things?” His frilled headdress opens slightly, giving him the look of a stalking predator as he looks down at me.

  I try to suppress a squirm under his gaze, “You’re probably going to laugh. I’ve been having some worrying dreams and I just want to be prepared in case anything goes wrong suddenly, you know?”

  “That’s a three-quarter truth, but I will not pry further. If a dagger stays sheathed, its wielder remains safe.” He lowers himself and lays his headdress flat against his head once again, looking weary. “What’s the nature of the worry? Something I should prepare for?”

  “No, I don’t think so. It’s very personal to me. I saw something fighting that calamity that unsettled me, that’s all.” I'm safe mentioning it to him. Without a doubt information regarding what I found would have made it to everyone in the Vigil who could be relied upon to fight a calamity — the various experienced groups of veterans and the more Peerless individuals acting as slayers like Garrick, Kyla, Lan, and Lars.

  He gives me a thoughtful look, scraping a nail against the scales under his chin. “Do you think you could have someone drop the things off in my room? I can leave a key with you.”

  He rolls his neck languidly and I hear a series of loud pops that sound both satisfying and painful. “No need, Theron gets where he’s needed. You will be equipped as well as I can manage.” he pauses, his eyes narrowing with overt suspicion, “Question. should I have not seen the young slayer?” He eyes me closely as I struggle to answer, looking like a fish gasping for air for a few moments. “I…see. Take care of yourself. Remember, luck is a blade with no handle, Nyss.” He drags my name out with a small smile — he always seemed to enjoy saying it with his speech quirks.

  I turn to go but hesitate. I meekly offer, “Thanks, Theron. It means a lot.” I quickly make my way from the armory and begin heading towards the medical ward. I take the long way, avoiding the barracks out of turn, not wanting to deal with anything that might come with it. This decision, however, winds up betraying me.

  As I’m making way down the hallway perpendicular to the barracks, heading towards the split that would take me either to the officer’s quarters or the medical wards I hear the last person I was hoping to see while out of the ward. “Slayer Aspirant Nyssa, do you have a moment?” In a very concerned, motherly tone.

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  I turn to see Serafina Blackthorn in her full regalia, looking tame and conservative once again after how I saw her yesterday. She looks somewhat flustered and flushed, as though she might have been running, which surely would be awkward in her robes. “By all means, Dame Serafina,” I turn around and salute as sharply as I can manage, making an effort to look exhausted, but smile along with it as she spends a very brief moment looking past me.

  “I’d come to check on you and the menders said they hadn’t seen you in a little over an hour,” She raises her eyebrows at me with an implied question.

  “Oh. Yeah…sorry. I wanted to see Garrick off and got caught up trying to go for a jog afterwards to try to stretch my legs a bit. It was kind of a mistake. Started to have pretty bad cramps after a short while. Been walking it off since.” It’s only partially a lie, and I’m pretty sure she knows it, too, based on how she looks at me afterwards.

  “Well, I could have told you that and I’m not even medically trained!” She puts a hand on my shoulder gently and smiles with a warm laugh that gets a few people to look over and smile along. “A week laying down and going right into what you would consider a jog would probably make anyone cramp up. I’ve seen how you run when you get into it — seems basically guaranteed!” She pauses, making a gesture down the hallway, “I have to drop off some paperwork at the ward, can I walk with you? Assuming you were heading that direction at least.” I feel my normal wariness of people start to rear up — a desire to walk alone, be at peace in my own head, and to just not be touched — but I make an active effort to stifle it. Dame Serafina has been treating me better than almost anyone, and it’d be rude of me to dismiss it without a reason.

  “Aye, Dame Serafina, I was going to try to get some rest and I’d appreciate the company for a little bit.” I say it, thinking it’ll be a normal deflection, but as the words pass my lips, I realize I actually…mean it? Serafina puts me at ease and I’ve found myself being very comfortable around her. Especially after seeing her in those casual clothes. Being no good at small talk, I awkwardly fumble, “So, uh, how is your…day?”

  She listens to the question for a moment, thinking, “I think it’s shaping up to be a good day. Garrick had good news on his return. It’s always good when our seers' predictions are wrong for good outcomes.”

  “Oh, was he not needed?” As we walk Serafina takes brief moments to pass on short words of encouragement or acknowledging important days for Vigil knights inbetween our exchanges.

  “I can do you one better. No calamity, and he was able to intervene in a monster raid on the town. The seers were right about danger, just a couple orders of magnitude off.” She smiles wide, “Lots of lives saved at substantially lower risk to our personnel. Win-win! Has me feeling positive.”

  I find myself smiling along with her, “That definitely is good to hear. How are you feeling about him going out now? I know I’ve been out of commission for a little while, so I was hoping you might have found more information to share?” I ask, testing the waters between her and I.

  She gives me an arch look before softening, “Worried about him?”

  I look away, making eye contact with a group of a handful of knights from the beastmaster corps and feel my mood instantly nosedive. Trying to recover, I look back to Serafina, “Yeah, it sounds silly, but I’ve been having really bad dreams about that…man and Garrick. Always goes poorly for Garrick and I’m never able to get there in time to help.” I hang my chin down, feeling childish for being so worried about a dream.

  With the utmost of gentleness, Serafina reaches around and wraps an arm around my shoulders, approximating a hug from the side. I fight the nearly overwhelming urge to pull away as she begins speaking, “Dreams are something that my family have come to take very seriously, especially consistent ones. While other people in the Vigil might look down on you for feeling that way, “ I feel a pang, a spike of reminder and cast my eyes around nervously at Vigil knights who suddenly seem a lot less friendly, “I can promise you that at the very least, I will always be willing to hear about them.” She gives my shoulder another squeeze before returning to the distance she’d been from me to begin with. “So, what are the details? Worst-case scenario, I go talk to a seer to verify some things and send a runner to catch up to Garrick to warn him if something credibly worrisome is predicted.”

  Feeling a small bit of comfort, I look up at Serafina’s concerned eyes, clearly taking me seriously. I go about describing the dream in as much detail as I can manage and watch as she goes from paying close attention to looking almost pale towards the end. When I finish, we’ve more or less arrived at the medical wards, “Sorry to worry you, Serafi- Dame Serafina. I don’t want to cause any issues…” Feeling more than a little guilty now at mentioning my silly dreams.

  She stops abruptly and turns to face me, putting a hand on either shoulder and looking me in the eyes, “Nyssa, I asked you to tell me. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m going to do my due diligence in looking into the possibilities and it won’t even take an hour of my day. I think you could agree that an hour of time is well worth putting a potential risk to Garrick to bed, yeah?” I nod, “Then good. Don’t apologize for trying to help. Don’t apologize for caring. You take these things seriously and that’s why I trust you. I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says, this mindset will keep you and others safe once you’re out in the field.” She tips her head with a broad smile, “So, go get some rest. You’re surely going to need it.”

  Smiling weakly, I nod and turn to enter the ward where I am promptly fussed over by the staff, asked a barrage of questions, have demands made, and am generally treated like an uncooperative child. Over the course of the 15 minutes, I am getting more and more angry but try to keep cool.

  Back in my ward room, I settle into bed, planning to relax the rest of the day, but struggle to spool down. I keep focusing on the juxtaposition of Serafina taking me seriously, trusting me on something as small as a dream, while all of the people in the ward won’t leave well enough alone that I had the audacity to go for a jog. It’s not like I ended up here in the ward because of anything I did wrong. I got wounded on an expedition, it’s not the first time and it won’t be the last time.

  “Suppose it’s just more of what Lars and his lackeys thought.” The thought enters unbidden to my mind and I suddenly feel so very tired. Not in the sense of needing to sleep, though that is approaching, but just tired of these little games. “Maybe these people know Lars and are upset over what Lan did to him. He surely would have wound up here after me, after all…”

  Leaning back in my bed, I decide I might as well try to sleep. It’s getting late, and Serafina hasn’t come back, so maybe that means that she didn’t find anything too worrisome. But why not come back and tell me? Probably too busy. She is important and it was just a silly dream after all. I take a deep breath, hold it for ten seconds, and slowly let it out, trying to clear my mind as I close my eyes and let sleep come.

  As always, I would deeply appreciate folks taking a gander, though I recognize it is *quite* different genre-wise than what you might be coming to my works for.