“Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go”

– Oscar Wilde

“Do you really think this is a good idea?”

“It's absolutely brilliant” small pause “If they take it.”

Rhys was looking skeptical while Mireille was looking smug.

They were lying on top of the barracks building, having climbed through the skylight and looked at the dusty alley between the walls and the dingy bunkhouse. The twins, Alfred and Tom Carpenter, were there holding the boy against the wall and patting his pockets. Alfred looking triumphant took something from him and grinned widely, showing a few missing teeth.

Then Tom without changing his smiling expression hit the poor sod in the stomach leaving him winded and gasping.

Giving the poor boy a last shove they turned and walked towards the training field. After they had gone, Isaac, the poor farmer's boy being used as a punching bag, looked at Mireille accusingly “You never said they would hit me.”

“I did not exactly know they would do that.” She looked shifty saying that.

"Liar." The boy looked defeated “Okay. At least if that works I will have some peace.”

Rhys who usually did not talk much to anyone other than Mireille and Challon said softly “Don’t let it get you down. They thrive on others' misery, such people always do.” She tried to grab her nonexistent glasses.

“When will you realize you don’t have them?” Mireille looked honestly interested.

“Probably when I get new ones.” sighed Rhys.

Two days later.

Sergeant Dornwright went along the group of Signed and looked each of them up and down. “It has come to my attention, that there are people smuggling liquor out of the warehouse. If you come clean now, it will only mean latrine duty for a few weeks. The lock is spelled, you have to have a key. If I have to find it then you are fucked.” The last was spit into the face of the scarred man with the cruel eyes who was known creatively enough as Aldrick Splitlip.

The sergeant then left and came back with a bemused-looking Jeremiah. “Last chance” Dornwright groused. “Ok, young mage, your turn.” Giving him a bottle of clear liquid while getting an acknowledgment back, the soldier stood aside.

The apprentice gestured with both hands and glyphs flickered to life before him before then fading again. Some words followed those gestures sounding like a recitation in a foreign-sounding language. Then there was a glowing silver ball between his hands bulging and then forming a tendril grasping in the direction of the Trainees. After adjusting the manifestation and taking a few steps Jeremiah pointed at Alfred. “It's in this one's pocket.” grinning a bit he added “the right one.”

Dornwright made a few quick steps and daring Alfred to make a move rummaged in his pocket getting a worn key. “You two, come with me.” ordered the Sergeant sounding satisfied. “Good work,” he said with a nod in the direction of Jeremiah.

The Twins were seen carrying large sacks into and out of the warehouse and cleaning the latrines of the garrison. They were always exhausted and Isaac was left alone. Mireille looked smug while Rhys looked skeptical.

Just another day in the corps.

Challon looked disappointed. “What's got you down?” Mireille asked.

“Slick won't go out with me.”

“Who in their right mind would?”

“I am good-looking and sexy. It's a privilege going out with me!”

“You take them for all they are worth, you are pretty conceited and you never even hold hands. You don’t want a boyfriend, you want a moving money bag. And you have done it twice before!”

Challon looked conflicted. “Would it be okay if I held hands sometimes?”

“No, I don’t think that’s the problem!”

“Would you two please quiet down, its lights out already.” the girl having the misfortune of sleeping beneath Challon groaned. Someone farther in snickered at that.

Mireille looked at Challon and both smiled as the light of a lantern from a passing sentry shining through the window passed over them.

Some days later.

Mireille nearly silently mouthed “Eralasselyanthinar” deep within her abdomen lightning branched out of her core into her arms and legs her brand flared with actinic light. She felt weightless as a feather and her thoughts were like quicksilver. She jumped onto the city wall some four meters in height and then began to climb the watchtower, beneath the round roof for repelling arrows and rain she jumped straight from the wall into the air for the edge, grabbing hold, and then vaulted over onto the shingles her legs drawing a smooth circle into the reddish air of late summer dusk. Sparks flowed along her fingers and from her eyes thrumming with suppressed power.

She felt invincible.

And as she stood there holding a pose. The spell came to an end. She felt a deep weakness and gasping had to grab the weathervane to stabilize herself.

“Ok, that was satisfactory for today. You managed nearly a third as long again as the last times.” the sergeant called. “Come back down as soon as possible. The enemy won't wait for you to catch your breath.”

From up here, she saw Challon healing a gash in the leg of a sturdily built young woman. One of the Earthen Armor, Stonefist group, she thought. Rhys was balancing a full bucket of water on a squall of wind losing control and drenching an unsuspecting air-user who cussed her out.

Another day in the corps.

Days then weeks and even months had gone by and she was now firmly in the rut. Rise and wash, eat breakfast in the morning, then physical training, then training with magic, lunch, then schooling, then physical training again and some sadly limited time before and after dinner, lights out, and sleep. Rinse and repeat.

She lay thinking in her bunk bed a quarter-hour to light out very nearly sleeping when Rhys said “are you still awake?”

“No.”

“Clown.”

“Irritating blowfly!”

“What brought this on?”

“I simply don’t like clowns”

“Mh, I did not get to see too many?”

“You did not miss a thing. When my grandmother had her store still, I once went with her to the circus. And the clowns there were eating live rats! It was disgusting!”

“Eww!” Rhys looked down from the upper bunk “You are not making this up, are you?”

“No, I have seen something like this too. They ate cockroaches not rats but same disgusting difference,” said Challon from two beds over.

“Don’t make a racket you three, trying to sleep here” said the girl from below Challon.

“I heard tomorrow we will be assigned,” Rhys said.

“Has it already been three months?” Mireille sounded surprised.

“I hope they will let us stay together” came a soft murmur from above her.

Mireille prayed again for the first time since two months ago when she hoped nobody would realize that she stole the cake from sergeant Dornwright. He had been so furious that his nostrils flared to nearly double in size and reminded her of an angry bull.

She thought ‘Please covetous one, hoarder of the night sky let me stay with my friends!’ She tried to make a habit of not asking for much so that she could justifiably (to herself at least) ask the goddess for some more outrageous things. Not that it often helped, but it at least seemed as if it helped when sorely needed. ‘Thank you that the twins were caught with a whole roasted ham! That nicely diverted all the attention from me. I am very grateful!’ she folded her hands demurely before her chest.

And as the lost eye hung full and white before the small barracks window she fell asleep.