Chapter 27: Tabitha

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Tabitha watched, silently, as Gerald's former comrades, his friends, carefully and deliberately excommunicated him.

"Do you understand?" Tabitha asked, as she tapped her new apprentice in the shoulder and led him away.

"It's not new," Gerald replied, his mouth twisted in a grimace and his eyes filled with tears. "I've been shunned for almost a decade."

Tabitha let out a short bark of a laugh. "You don't understand at all."

Gerald rounded on her incredulously, but to the boy's credit, he didn't attempt to refute her argument. He only waited, his silence inviting her to explain.

To Tabitha's surprise, it was Mathias who spoke next. "In their eyes, you abandoned them. They will never say it aloud, but they will feel it should have been you, rather than Miss Respelli, who tried to kill that crafter. They believe your absence cost lives. And their belief is not wrong."

And in a show of maturity that genuinely impressed Tabitha, Gerald only nodded, accepting the shadow's words without rejoinder.

"And this is the cold truth of duty. You will probably be hated for your most important deeds," Mathias finished.

"Are you still talking about him?" Tabitha asked.

Mathias nodded. "Perhaps I can say I know this the hard way."

"You were the wall, recruit," the old sergeant said, as Varnell joined them. "You were the torches against the dark night."

Tabitha recognised the words as the army's official motto, an invocation to their storied history defending the City. But the second verse, to actually be the torches that held back the Gloam, was an addition that had not come from the army.

"The second line was a gift to the army, from a crafter," Tabitha said.

Mathias raised his eyebrows, and his eyes widened a little. Which for the impassive shadow registered as heart-wrenching shock.

"From Starval Roster, during the First Invasion," Varnell added. "He died, keeping the torches lit after he pushed the Gloamtaken out of what would eventually become the Billowing Ash district."

"The torches outlived him," Tabitha said, looking directly at Gerald. "For nearly a month after his heart stopped beating, the craft he used burned on. He burned the rest of himself to be the torches that held back the Gloam. That is the legacy your sergeant invokes when she calls you the walls."

"I..." Gerald began, his words trailing off. He nodded once, and started again. "I will take it to heart, master."

"Good," Tabitha said. "Sergeant Varnell, I'm not fond of my apprentices leaving their education unfinished. Do you have more to teach him?"

The sergeant looked at Gerald for a long moment and said, "I do, yes. And strangely enough, he won't be the first apprentice I teach."

"Really?" Tabitha asked. "I feel like I've earned that story."

"Another time, ma'am. For now, I'd like to get my people on their way back to their homes and have someone arrange their graduation ceremony. Gerald, start writing an after-action report of events. Use the paper you've stashed away. Let me know right now if you need more ink."

Tabitha smirked. "He's never needed ink."

"Well well well," Varnell said, a vicious smirk playing over the old woman's lips. "Someone's going to be running the walls soon."

"I suddenly hope the Sixth starts today..." Gerald muttered before he departed. He left them, at a slow run, further down the field.

Varnell broke away from them quietly but turned back to say "one punch, Mathias. Any more, and I'll be obliged to have you detained."

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