Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
2412 Xavem 18, Reshpe
Kymalin trudged towards the dining hall, her clothes littered with bits of sand clinging in the fabric. She clicked her tongue as she dusted herself, earning awkward looks from the new recruits still emerging from their tents.
She paid them no mind. This was one of the reasons why she was against moving the training camp to Desara, for the gods' sake. Not only did the air smell like fish, the sand found every opportunity to stick to her skin and clothes. Why couldn't they move into Dwanzeig or stay in Carleon? Why did they even have to move to this barren hellhole?
Kymalin ran her hands furiously at the fur lining the collar of her armor. She just came back from the nightly patrol outside the base. As if whoever infiltrated Cardovia would dare come back using the same method as before. Who would even go back after making it out alive once?
Malve had let that information slip out of his lips too late in one of the regular conferences with the Heiress. Before Kymalin knew it, she was being reprimanded by the Heiress for her carelessness. Well, Kymalin was out of the base under the Heiress' orders and suddenly it's Kymalin's fault? It didn't make sense.
If anything, the Heiress was pissed that someone was able to outsmart her and got away with it alive. Kymalin merely became a vessel to catch that annoyance. She shouldn't think too much of it. All of them were under the Heiress' mercy should the leader get into a foul mood.
Someone bumped against Kymalin's shoulder. She clicked her tongue at a tall, bald man with dark skin. He wore nothing but a cloth around his hips, showing his sculpted muscles. Kymalin glared at him and he glared back like he didn't know who she was and what status she held in this organization.
Kymalin suppressed a growl. Trisa's runts. Perhaps she should teach them all a lesson during their training session tomorrow. Oh, she would never go easy on this fairy and whichever unfortunate platoon he would get drafted to. She kept her glare at the man's shiny head and made sure to give all the fire sprites additional routines and beat their asses from under them during sparring. Tch. Annoying.
Kymalin shook her head. No matter. She should be in the dining hall now.
More recruits dashed past her, hurrying towards the rectangular building in the midst of all the tents around them. If Malve's information was to be trusted, the thrones that Cardovia held were stored underneath the dining hall itself. They were stolen during the third night patrol's shift and apparently, the thieves were clever enough to guess it correctly.
What's more clever was that nobody sensed them going in. No one sensed anything wrong when the thieves scampered around the base. Nobody knew a thing until a guard collapsed and the thieves dashed out of the dining hall carrying a satchel big enough for at least four thrones.
Only the Magistrates knew what was stolen. Everyone else was kept in the dark. Kymalin, after her failed stunt at the Temple of Souls, had learned the hard way what these thrones really were. Nobody even told her what to look for back then. It was like the Heiress was setting Kymalin up for failure as a way of disposing of her.
