[Unfinished] Selection Day
Kayle I
I don’t think she realizes, but I’ve never hit her once in training.
- Mason Taul
The same as every morning, I wake to the harsh light of the rising sun streaming through my window. Wasting no time to start my day, I slink toward the ddor, unracking my light armour silently as to not wake my bunkmate. The door makes an obnoxious creak as I slowly open it to slip out of the room, but fortunately, Dahlia does not stir. I’d feel terrible if I accidentally woke her up an hour early for the second time this week, even if she insists that it isn’t that big of a deal.
The first thing on the docket is breakfast, as it should be. At around half past five, the mess hall is nearly empty. Out of a few hundred seats, only a couple dozen are filled. I’m not surprised, I never am, as only a few types of people would be moving through their day at this time. As a small test, to make sure I’m operating at full awareness, I scan the room for some figures I vaguely recognize.
In the far corner of the room, a pair of guards munch lazily on their eggs. The one facing me looks about ready to drop. Those have to be the night shifters. This would probably be closer to their dinner than breakfast; if they have any regards for their health or sanity, they’ll be hitting the hay right after this. It’s possible that, unless they took a rest before their shift, they’ve both been awake for close to a day straight.
A group of six several tables to the left of where I’m standing are clustered together, leaning over something. They’re too quiet to overhear, but the intense hand gestures from a few in the group make me guess that they’re arguing about something. I can only see about two of their faces somewhat clearly. The first looks to be in his mid-twenties and about as exhausted as the night-shifters. He grips a large folder, clearly overfilled with papers, hard enough that his fingers are white. The second is a woman probably approaching fifty. Her officer’s jacket pins her as a captain or a similar rank. However, the tricorn hat that she wears isn’t standard for any branch of the Sevian military or royal guard I’m aware of.
“You’re mumbling to yourself again Kayle.”
I jump, luckily able to suppress a yelp at the sudden voice behind me. I swing around, giving Mason a quick smack upside the head. He doesn’t even flinch, just shrugs it off and laughs to himself.
“You free right after breakfast to train?”
Mason is General Taul’s son. He’s been training with weapons from about the time he could walk. I managed to take out my own knee with a training sword last week. I want to ask why he wouldn’t try to get some training with one of the other skilled swords. Because I’ve already been silent for a bit too long, I scramble to put together something that turns out a bit less composed.
“I- uh- me?”
He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Yeah, you. Who else?”
Jean, Dahlia, or probably one of the higher ranking officers if he’s looking for suggestions. Obviously, the question is rhetorical, so I just nod in acknowledgement. Mason takes this as a good enough response, heading off to the serving counter. As I turn to follow behind him, I catch something out of the corner of my eye.
The man with the folder, while carefully shuffling through his papers, is staring directly at me.