The One Who Watches and Waits stretched languidly on his marble throne. Before him was an idyllic paradise with flowering trees and bushes in full bloom perfuming the air with varied scents. Alone, each flower would intoxicate anyone who smelled them, but together, the different scents cancelled each other out such that a visitor who would have expected to smell something would find themselves disappointed.

Behind him was a wasteland of dust and ashes, and skeletons with half rotting flesh littered on the cracked soil. As with the garden, no scents permeated the air, not even that of the varied beings that lingered and waited for the august lord’s whims.

There was a clearing on the garden side of the court and it was occupied by dozens of spindly figures. The buzz of conversation lingered in the air but even if one listened closely, they wouldn’t understand what words were spoken. The room was open to the multi-hued skies with strands of colour flaring and subsuming each other.

The One Who Watches and Waits gazed upon the gathering of nobles, most from the Telurian Court. There was a count from the Asheron and a marquis from the Solemnus. What they were doing here was known only to the envoys themselves and only the neutrality of the Telurians prevented the Asheron from tearing into the Solemnus, rank be damned.

A woman approached the throne, a tall, voluptuous, grey-skinned girl and burning red eyes, with two curving horns growing from her forehead that formed the shape of a tiara around her sooty hair. She halted in front of him and gave a grudging obeisance.

“What news?” His voice was guttural and grating to mortal ears.

“The soulseekers continue to hunt, their prey has momentarily eluded them. But the hunted will not escape long. The horde awaits the command.” She Who Whispers in the Light had a voice that would charm the dead. It washed over the Watcher, having no more effect than the breeze would to a boulder.

“The moon waxes,” he observed. “The Chaos is strongest when the moon is full, weakest when it is dark. The Chaos changes but it does not want redundant change. For in…”

“You’ve said as much over the aeons. Spare me,” She Who Whispers in the Light hissed.

He frowned slightly, a barely seen movement of his brows and the slightest hint of a downturned lip, “I was about to say that the mortals are at their highest guard when the moon is full.”

“And your point being?”

The One Who Watches and Waits sighed quietly. It had been centuries and she was still like this. No matter. “Tell The Seeker of Delights that he may begin. Or she may begin, as The Seeker might prefer.”

She Who Whispers in the Light’s expressionless face grew even more still, as though she had turned into a statue. This lasted for a few seconds while The One Who Watches and Waits observed her with a smirk. Unlike The Seeker, who made hedonism his core of being, The Watcher rarely indulged in his carnal desires. The Whisperer made things difficult though.

Soon enough, She Who Whispers in the Light regained movement. She growled her acquiescence and stalked away. Decades of machinations were about to come to fruition and The One Who Watches and Waits…will observe, wait, and then…act.

*-*-*

“Have you ever wondered why the food hall charges so much for food and why the mess halls serve food that should have been turned in to the compost heap?” Armsmaster Byrne asked idly while he drove the transport.

They were headed back to Faron’s Crossing at a respectable pace considering they were on a dirt path. The road to the Shillogu Outpost could be accessed from town. They could have headed straight to the road cross country, but they would have mowed down a path through the nearly ripe wheat fields. They also could have followed the Wyldling trails across the fields but that would have been meandering at best.

Byrne glanced back at Yuriko and the others who were nearly insensate from the monotonous rocking.

Yuriko roused herself when she realized what the Armsmaster was asking them; she was interested in finding out why they were being tortured like that.

“No, Armsmaster. I don’t know why. Can you tell us?”

Byrne smirked. “Well, the Watchtower needed a way for all the coins it was giving away to the militia to flow back into its coffers.”

Braden protested, “That’s exploitation! The militia shouldn’t have to spend their hard-earned wages just to feed themselves good food.”

Armsmaster Byrne shrugged, “You aren’t seeing the bigger picture, boy. Do you know how much Chaos Dust and Chaos Shards cost in the market?”

“A silver mark per GiJin of Dust, and a gold mark per HiJin for a Shard.”

“Right, and do you know where those things come from?”

The kids exchanged confused glances. Weren’t Dust and Shards found in the Tidelands and the Chaos Sea? Yuriko also thought that Shards could be also mined from the earth like jade and other metals.

“If you’re thinking from the earth, you’re not far from the truth. The correct source is from the Chaos.”

Classes at the prep school had taught them that. Though they were still too weak to venture into the Tidelands or the Chaos without an Arkship, during the Dark Moon, the Chaos fluctuates and sometimes leaves Dust and Shards on the ground near the borders.

“Another primary source of Dust and Shards are from the bodies of Wyldlings,” Armsmaster smirked. “How many swarmlings and Wanderers do you think die under our weapons every Season?”

“Does that mean we’ll get coins out of killing the Wyldling we’re supposed to hunt?” some of the boys asked in unison.

“Yes,” Armsmaster Byrne chuckled.

The resulting clamour livened up the transport with Janus, Zeyn, Heron, the twins, and even the two other village boys, boasting about how much they’d earn after hunting down dozens of Wyldlings.

“Ah, I’ll buy the cutlet set every mealtime!” Zeyn drooled.

“Parfait! Ancestors, I want more parfaits.” Krystal said with a dreamy smile.

Entertaining the idea of having a dozen honey cakes for herself, Yuriko smiled and leaned back on her seat. Armsmaster Byrne and Leader Yoran chuckled in the driver’s cabin.

The longstrides passed in a daze. After that bit of levity, the cadets once again returned to a blue funk. The golden fields were the same, no matter how far they were from Faron’s Crossing. After they neared the town, they had taken the circumferential road to go around the town proper and they continued on the road to the north.

Near Faron’s Crossing, the road was straight, shifting slightly to go around hills instead of going up and over or cutting through. An hour more of travel and the golden fields were replaced by green vegetable fields, orchards of lavan berry trees, and several kaf plantations.

The road was bordered by canals to carry away run-off water during the seasonal rains. The canals were dry now, of course. Most of the vegetable fields were bounded by low stone fences to ward away the occasional wandering livestock.

Pastures full of sheep and cattle replaced the vegetable fields and orchards the further north they went. The light mottled brown cows placidly gazed at their transport while chewing their cud. Yuriko wondered if they were far enough away from the Watchtower and the Tidelands that the livestock wasn’t too endangered by the Wyldlings.

The creatures didn’t really seek out animals, she remembered. If a Wanderer happened upon a herd of cows there was an even chance that it would just pass them by. Or go through them like a scythe harvesting wheat. Of course, it was the duty of the militia to contain the Wyldlings near the Watchtower.

Mid-afternoon found them trundling up to the Shillogu Woods Outpost, more than a longstride away from the actual woods, and within spitting distance of the River Caradec that eventually made its way to Faron’s Crossing. It was a set of four buildings arranged around a central space with the banner bearing the eight-pointed star over a tree on a tall pole fluttered in the breeze. The outpost had a low wall, and a couple of observation towers on the north and south end of the place.

They were let through the gate after a cursory inspection by the guards. Afterwards, the transport was parked on the northwest building, the barracks, where they were once again segregated by gender. Having claimed yet another top bunk, Yuriko dumped her pack on the bed and carried her weapons outside.

When all fifteen of them were gathered, Armsmaster Byrne and Leader Yoran led them to a table with gear spread out. There was rope, a bedroll, light sources, tinder, first aid kits, machetes, wood axes, small shovels, and rations. Lots of rations.

“Use these,” Leader Yoran said, indicating a heap of empty backpacks.

Yuriko picked one at the top of the heap. It was mottled green and had multiple side pockets and straps to make sure it wouldn’t jostle and unbalance the carrier during battle. The bedroll would be strapped at the top, so she filled her bag with rations and most of the other necessities, leaving space only for her underclothes. She didn’t think she'd have time to launder any clothing in the woods, but it was always better to be prepared. Krystal made sure each of them had a suitable amount of rations and gear and she insisted on packing more food than was strictly necessary.

For those without any forceweave clothing, the outpost provided green jackets and trousers, as well as combat boots. Yuriko’s gear was already complete, so she didn’t have to join the other cadets hunt for clothes that fit. Instead, she returned to the dormitory with her backpack to finish packing her clothes. Once done, she left the militia gear on her bunk and thought to wander around the outpost. She kept her side-blades on her belt and the Plasma Caster strapped on her back.

A single company manned the outpost and half of that was the administrative staff. As for what they need those people for…

Several logs floated down the river, with a sigil glowing with imparted Animus on both ends. There were a couple of people sitting on the tall bench near the river, writing some notes on a sheet of paper.

Afterwards, she wandered over to the perimeter walls. They were only three paces high and made of large blocks of stone. There wasn’t any room to stand on top of the wall but there was a ledge on the inner side where the militia could look over it. The observation towers on the north and south side were about ten paces high and could probably fit five people at most.

In the late afternoon, most of the militia were either on watch or resting in their own quarters. Voices cheering and shouting could be heard coming from one corner of the central area and when she came closer, she found a raised platform surrounded by people. On the platform were two women facing off, each carrying a training weapon and attired in protective gear.

They were already in the middle of battle. The shorter woman had a short spear while the taller one had a side-blade. Yuriko frowned as she observed them. The battle was…showy. There were many unnecessary movements and the taller woman gave up strikes that could have ended the battle already. Eventually, the shorter woman delivered a telling blow that broke the other combatant’s protective field.

Coins exchanged hands between the spectators. Some of them patted the taller woman’s back, while others cheered the winner. Soon, another set of combatants walked up to the platform while someone drew the odds on a board nearby.

Disinterested, Yuriko spun on her heels and left. Dinner in the hall wasn’t bad, certainly above the standards of the mess hall at the Watchtower but definitely below the food hall. The team chatted for a while but all the mental preparations had already been made. The only thing to do was go on the actual hunt.

This would be her second time to face a Wanderer and, this time, without the powerful protection of her Da. A worm of anxiety crawled in her guts. ‘Ancestors, keep him safe.’

A glance at her team abruptly made her realise that, except for Orrin, each of them had a parent who was part of that mission. There was a hint of worry behind Krystal’s eyes though she masked it by being her usual bubbly self. Mikel would freeze every now and then, picking at his food while lost in thought. Heron's face was a stony mask. She didn’t really know him well enough, beyond being classmates, and she certainly didn’t know what he looked like when he was worried. But his usual bluster was missing, and he focused on eating his food.

She didn’t know if they had heard of the mission progress and lack of communication. It had been nearly two weeks and something should have happened even accounting for the time dilation.

“You aren’t strong enough.”

Marron’s words bounced in her head. None of them were. And now they could only wait, hope, and pray.