Part 38: New Faces

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~3. New Faces ~

Rismyn

"What are you doing here at this abominable hour?"

The voice cut through Rismyn's trance, jarring him from his blissful subconscious and returning him to the present. But though the voice was loud and startling, he didn't jerk awake.

Instead, he rose from his hypnotic state slowly, becoming increasingly aware of the world around him in little stages. The scent of moisture that clung to the cave, the sound of the Lirdvin river drifting along outside, deceptively calm. Finally, himself, seated cross-legged on a bench and dressed in his stiff practice armor.

He took in a deep, unhurried breath. In, then out, then opened one eye.

Beltel stood before him, arms crossed, wearing a disapproving frown as he stared down at him. It had to be Beltel, because if it was Belnir, he would have just let Rismyn be.

"Well, I was trancing," Rismyn replied, arching an eyebrow. Cerulean light leaked from the entrance of the cavern, reflecting off the polished black metal of the lockers that lined the smoothed stone walls.

"Yes, but why here?"

Rismyn shrugged, unfolding to stretch his legs and roll his neck from side to side. "Seemed like as good a place as any."

Beltel's frown morphed into a mischievous grin. "What, did the priest finally kick you out? Happy anniversary–I've changed the locks, don't come back?"

Beltel laughed heartily at his own joke, but fortunately, he spun away to his own locker, so he didn't see Rismyn's good humor evaporate. It might have been a joke, but to Rismyn, the words had touched too close to the nest of his deepest fears.

It was just a joke, he told himself firmly, forcing himself to remember the way Solaurin had embraced him just this Blue Light, telling him how proud of him he was.

But then his hand strayed subconsciously to the metal biting into his sternum, where Mazira's ring hung safely from a cord beneath his leather armor. Would Solaurin be angry when he found out what Rismyn had schemed? Togethering with Mazira seemed to be the unbreakable, unspoken boundary that he was not supposed to cross. Would his actions get them both kicked out?

No, no. He was being ridiculous. Rismyn had said and done far more vexing things during his time in the weaver's house than bare his soul to Mazira. If Solaurin could forgive that shameful shouting match, if he could tolerate the one–and only–time Rismyn made the mistake of coming home with far too much ale in his blood and not enough good sense, he could surely forgive a little romantic scheming.

The priest was, after all, a poet at heart. And weren't extravagant love stories the very thing poets loved most? At least, all the poems Mazira had taken to reciting to him, now that she had learned to read, seemed to be about such topics.

"Helloooo, Rismyn? Did you fall back into a trance again?"

Rismyn did startle this time, snatching his hand away from the where the ring was concealed and painting innocence on his face. "What? No. Sorry. I didn't sleep well. What did you say?"

Beltel rolled his eyes and briefly vanished from view as he pulled off his tunic. "Well that's part of the mystery solved; you didn't sleep well. Still waiting to hear why you're trying to amend that here."

Rismyn flushed, glancing away. "I didn't get kicked out," he said, sourly. "I left early to see Master Jasper since I won't be seeing him later this White Light." And then, because he didn't enjoy being on the defensive, he turned the question around. "What are you doing here?"

          

"I?" Beltel said, as he replaced his tunic with a shirt of supple, fitted, black adamantine. It was Militia issued, enchanted and blessed by Eilistraee's clerics, and an exact replica of what Rismyn would be changing into every day after the Evensong. "I am escaping my brother, who feels the need to lecture me once again about this great honor that's being bestowed on me."

He made a face, disappearing back into the shadows of his locker to fish out the rest of his armor.

"It is a great honor," said another voice from the entrance of the cavern.

Belnir sauntered in, already dressed for combat. Were it not for the silver dove insignia glinting on his shoulder, marking him as a patrol captain, he would have been indistinguishable from his brother. After tonight's Evensong, not even that would separate their appearance when in uniform.

Beltel raised his brows as his shoulders dropped. "What, were you just standing there waiting for the opportune time to make your grand entrance?"

"A happy coincidence. You left this at home." Belnir dropped a sheathed dagger on the bench beside Beltel's gear. He flashed Rismyn a warm smile, before turning back to his brother. "You're not taking this promotion seriously enough."

Beltel didn't try to hide the you-see-what-I-mean look he gave Rismyn. "I am taking this seriously; I seriously don't want it. Look! I'm not even responsible enough to remember to bring my weapons with me to Blue Light Rounds."

"Ah, so you did leave it behind on purpose. I was wondering. You know Anders won't buy that excuse, and neither will Mother Lara."

Beltel grimaced, before turning beseeching eyes on Rismyn. "Rismyn, you think I am an irresponsible lout with no business leading our fine men and women into the wilderness on patrol circuits, right?"

Rismyn hesitated, glancing between the brothers.

Up until four tendays ago, the twins had merely been good friends, the first Rismyn had ever made after Mazira. They'd gone out of their way to make him and Mazira feel welcome, invited him into their home just for the joy of his company. Rismyn had learned the meaning of excessive drinking with Beltel–a lesson he'd only needed to be taught once–and had overcome his initial culture shock thanks to Belnir's patient explanations.

But all of that was before the promotion was announced. The patrols were changing, and Rismyn, along with five others, was being raised to fill in the ranks. Belnir had always been a patrol captain since Rismyn had known him, but now, he was going to specifically be Rismyn's patrol captain. And while he didn't think anything was going to change now that Beltel was becoming a captain as well, he couldn't be certain.

"Sorry Beltel," he finally said, as the twins waited for his opinion. "I'm with your brother on this one. Besides, your misfortune is my gain."

Beltel sighed dramatically, yanking up his greaves. "Next time, I'm going to let the ilithids eat all your brains."

That earned him an exasperated smile from Belnir, who glanced at Rismyn as if in commiseration. "They weren't going to eat us, they were going to enslave us, which is infinitely worse," he reminded Beltel, as if they weren't both there when the Mindflayers ambushed their patrol, leading to the heroics that had earned Beltel his promotion. "Honestly, I've never met anyone more reluctant to have their merits recognized."

"It's just 'cause he doesn't want to give up his carousing." Yet again, another newcomer joined the conversation, entering the shadowed locker cavern. This time, it was a drow named Tarmar, one of the veterans remaining under Belnir's command, and therefore soon to be one of Rismyn's contemporaries. "You can't fool us, Beltel. You're irresponsible on purpose and we're all ecstatic you've been found out."

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