Haha learning the reason why and more about the anatomy and herbs would be a good idea. Like if you can't channel and have to stay undercover 

@Matalina ooh great post today I've got a feeling we are about to meet Adrim! 

Thanks so much @Cass!!

now onto Ful's dedicated reqs 

Land Beneath the Sky

• Thread Start Date: July 27th, 2009
• Timeline: Retro 
• Description: Two sisters and a tower guard goes after missing party of sisters at the borderlands
• Players: Saline, Lavinya, Corin
• Status: we just picked this RP back up to tie up some loose ends 

Is anybody interested in teaching my BT char healing? I assume only dedicated and asha'aman know this but at this point I'll even accept a yellow trying to explain with saidar 

Ful was breathing hard and shaking. His jacket was torn and he was splattered with blood. An almost painful adrenaline high ran through him like electricity glowing through fuse-wire. He’d never been pushed to such an extremity in his life, this battle high. Everything had become distant. For a moment, he couldn’t even remember what he needed to do.

“Thanks." Ful wheeled around, swung in and stuck the blade through the screeching weevil, its razor edge punched through exoskeleton and flesh. The weevil fell, face down, soaking the floor with its dark pumping blood. He walked on through the supplies rack, smelling the burnt corpse - thick and rancid in his nose. He forced himself to look at the weevil they’d killed. The stink of blood and - something else - hung about the cadaverous bug. The visage was non-human and meat like, with the shell scraped off, and shiny black claws. It turned his stomach.

Ful turned away, deep in thought. The idea that had occurred to him reformed in his mind. He had seen its like before, glimpsed its kind distantly then seen several corpses closer after the battle. But Isha and his household had protected Ful then.

“I’m working with the idea we’re facing something from the shadow,” he told Merdyn, trying not to shudder. “Some unnatural mistake which should not have occurred in the pattern, a bubble of evil. Last time this happened attack leader Isha’s house got destroyed and had to be rebuilt. I pray to the Creator there’s not more of these falling from the ceiling or something."

Ooc: lol! your post made me laugh :)

Ful Haert embraced the boy - about ten years he reckoned - with fury and conviction, like he would never let go. Nox called for them to put up air shields. Ful looked up, not breaking his hug. 

Ful looked around as bits of earth walloped in front of him - the shrapnels ripped by explosively, and he tried to shield the boy and himself. The same weave ripped the two trollocs to pieces, screaming, howling as shrapnels embedded themselves in their earth/stone prisons. The aftershock of hot air crisped their bodies.

Merdyn was behind a shield and remained miraculously unscathed. His knees gave way so he was on the ground, but he was alright. So was Ful. He got up, crunching over the debris and calling to Nox. “We’re fine!"

Dropping his shield, he looked the boy over quickly, checking for any signs of hurt. “You’re alright.” The boy pulled away from Ful.

“Let me go! I want,” the boy hissed through clenched teeth, his face terrified hot tears filling his eyes “to return to town now. I want to be back at the orphanage, to be inside the wall. Now!"

Across the quad from the barracks, Giles hurried through the office quarters with the dockets and enlistment papers he’d finally managed to prepare for the quartermaster. He’d hoped to have these done by the end of last week, but now it was well into the second week. There had been inspections to run, the settlement of enlisted students, the dispute between tower guards supplies and other necessary materials signed and yes, paid for, and those supplies actually physically present. Giles worked closely with the quartermaster, several standard officers, and clerks to reconcile, to curtail such losses inside the warder yards, but to little avail. 

In the early days, long before this new quartermaster came, Giles had a freer hand in the black market procuring medication, bandages, weapons, and other supplies - such as laundry. He had been a ringleader in this regard for such unofficial activities, but since his recent promotion this year to blade master Giles kept his hands clean. He was a good liar, with a gray sense of morals; certainly not above fudging some numbers while other unknown persons took over his previous sticky-fingered enterprises. 

His reason for taking on this extra paperwork had been two-fold. The first to keep careful tabs on the quartermaster and his clerks as to the disappearance of certain resources, the second - and more important - he wanted to gather intelligence on these men whose dockets he compiled. Thanks to his work, Giles now had his eyes on a few people. People who looked for power and control. Men that looked to his rank, and obeyed its power. 

And Giles was a big, powerful man. Heavily muscled from carrying the weight of his two handed sword. He had a back and shoulder that came out like a flower bulb. On the grounds, Giles was often seen red-faced from shouting at the trainees. He was not well loved, but then again, he didn’t need to be.

For you see, Giles was not only a thief; he was also a dark friend looking to recruit other friends. His purpose was to serve the dark lord, and secure loyalties to the powers that be while deflecting attention from himself. This made him doubly criminal.

Besides power and rank, there were other ways of securing loyalties. The trouble was that the warders were loyal. They were loyal to the tower and loyal to their aes sedai. They kept secrets and closed ranks behind their fanned clothes and stony faces. 

Under the eyes of the Watchers, the underhanded dealings that went on at the heart of every nation, every division of this world were especially stealthy here. Not even Giles knew who were black in the ajahs above him, nor was he eager to meet any dark friends who the black ajah bonded. He suspected he would not survive such an honor.

No, researching members of the tower guard was enough knowledge for Giles. And of late, he had his eye on a certain tower guard. Giles was quite unsettled by the presence of Aiden, or rather - the lack of knowledge surrounding his past. He wasn’t able to gather any useful data on the young man, and the lack of such data threatened Giles. He wasn’t convinced: didn’t believe that Aiden had no past of interest and was determined to dig any dirt he could find on this enigmatic tower guard. It didn’t help that Aiden seemed to gain favor with others while Giles himself was not liked by the men. This made Giles loathe Aiden on principle. He bent his mind to make Aiden out to be a miscreant somehow . . .

Giles’ route took him down a grand passageway outside the men’s quarters, past the bustling central hall and toward the archway of their mailroom. The door was unlocked, and a lamp was on. A duty mail-sorter there rose from his makeshift desk and saluted him when he entered. “Sir."

This one he didn’t recognize. A thin haired young man instead of Giles’ go-to officer in the mailroom. Without hesitation, Giles approached him with a derisive snort. “Where’s your badge, boy?”

“What?” said the new man on duty, his milky blue eyes dilated, opened. Confusion tinged his clipped accent.

“Your badge? All assigned to mailroom duties need to wear one.” 

By the time the flustered officer came back from the office area with said badge, the mailroom was empty. Giles already rifled through the envelopes all over the desk, and the bureau of already sorted correspondences. He quickly found the specific letter he knew would be there; he had waited for. His left hand deftly slipped the new correspondence out of the pile and into his hip pocket. He would open this in private. 

With his buddy manning the mailroom later on, replacing this letter to its rightful owner would not be a problem. 

. . .

An hour later Giles moved with easy grace through the barracks. He knew what he was doing. His blade master dress uniform fitted him well. He grasped the door handle, turned it, but didn’t open it. Giles held it fast as he leaned in, putting his ear to the red painted wood. Total silence. 

Having thus secured the area, Giles got to work with his picks until he heard the corresponding click. Gaining access, the blade master turned the handle and went through the door low and fast. Then he carefully shut the door behind him and turned around. He stood for a thoughtful moment, staring into . . .

Well, he didn’t rightly know what. The letter from Aiden to Taylor Rashad was ordinary. Much too ordinary. He peeled back the sealed envelope - lifted its wax with care - reading the contents inside, but couldn’t make out the underlying message the letter held. It could be in code, a cypher bound to one of the books on Aiden’s shelf. Or perhaps there were other letters which could give context. On the surface this letter was that of a well adjusted tower guard recalling happy days of friendship at the Rashad ranch. Definitely Aiden was not what he seemed.

Giles didn’t know what he was looking for, but he knew where to start. The answer — he had to find it here, in Aiden’s room. When he read Aiden’s letter he saw no point in delaying this search. He wasn't happy to do this much, to stick his neck out here. In truth, of late Giles felt empty and unfulfilled. Life had left him hollow and grim, and this type of thing seemed all too characteristic of the jobs he'd found himself doing since his promotion to blade master. 

Bottom line was, Aiden was on familiar terms with Taylor Rashad a dark friend publicly known to Giles and others. It couldn’t be innocent correspondence, and Giles burned to learn what Aiden’s association with Rashad ranch was - what they wrote back and forth on. This in combination with Aiden’s impenetrable past made him a very suspicious character. Giles needed to know.

A large room. A writing desk. Single bed. Unremarkable carpet. Rather simple, one could even describe it as minimal decor, actually. Small, curtained window. Tricky to know where to start. Giles scanned the books on the shelf, then moved quickly through the oils and waxes on the writing desk, pausing here and there to read a label or sniff a bottle. The carpet was soaked with spilled ink as he accidentally knocked it off the desk and his palms was quickly stained black. Giles saw how there were blown sprays of ink everywhere but did nothing to clean up the mess. He pulled open his hip-case and wiped his hands with a napkin and continued his search.

Giles did not bother to restore items as originally placed, however. There was no time, no point. Giles planned to use evidence he took, and surely that would be missed by its owner.

Boxes under the closet turned up more of Aiden and Taylor’s letters. Giles frowned. The same mundane drivel. Asking after family. Friends. Horses. He snatched those then as he turned away, the mirror revealed an unexpected prize toward the far end of the closet. 

". . . Wow."

He smiled and took up the stealth cape of the warders, the revered fan cloak, swept it back over his shoulder. Giles hastily returned - he went out into the hallway, leaving the tower guard's room in disarray, the door unlocked. He hadn’t sorted out in his head about the letters. There were a fair number of them, but he would tease out the underlying messages, in time. He could use those letters, and that surprising warder cloak he found in Aiden's possession. More incriminating than the letters, this. Excellent.

Blademaster Giles

@Matalina thanks for the shout! I'm actually glad Ful could still join in this inter-div RP sounds really fun. Especially with Nox and Merdyn . 

Thanks Tay for putting this together . Rhya sounds super cool.

Ful sucked air into his teeth and blinked into the cold morning air. There was something different about this morning. He couldn’t quite work out what it was. 

He glanced around.

Merdyn was here. Of course he was. It would take more time for them to build true comradeship between Ful and the noble-turned soldier. But for now, in the thick of their shared training,  Ful couldn’t help admiring the soldier, for that was what Merdyn was - an eager, devoted soldier of the black tower, just like Ful. (Ful more young, more green, and somewhat less eager.) Considering their nightmare so far of the trollocs attack, then fighting that giant weevil in that warehouse, they could make it work. A measure of understanding and respect between them from lived experience was enough. But where Merdyn was, interesting things happened. This fact made Ful uneasy.

Nox, the asha’aman leading this assignment, had been nothing but gracious and Ful was anxious to show his appreciation. So he came here on today's exercise - even though Ful had no talent or ability to ever learn traveling, he simply lacked the innate strength no matter how hard he try . . .

Before he had the time to look around the unfamiliar traveling grounds properly, a woman walked toward them. 

This woman Rhyanon made Ful uneasy. Those almond shaped, intelligent eyes, that easy confident gait, her strange beauty. Tall, taller than Ful. Then again, most people were.

While the adults talked, Ful said nothing, adjusting his cap over his dark unruly hair for the n-th time. He was wearing bulky overalls Isha, his old mentor, now long gone, had given him in place of the uniform which had been scorched off last week. He’d rather have stayed put at the traveling grounds, or even fallen back a little. The last thing he wanted was to overreach himself, right at the start of his career, yet the others were determined.

Ful was uneasy following the asha’aman. But Nox had rank and authority for backing him up with enlisted men, so Ful followed Merdyn and the others to the new gateway Nox made.

He flashed a grin up at Merdyn. “You first."

Cursing viciously, Ful stumbled through what felt like a firestorm, trying to regroup behind the thick walls near the passageway a level down. The stone walls were sweating as the heat of Merdyn’s latest series of fireballs leeched into them. Plaster facings shriveled and wilted, and the air was oven-hot and hurt his lungs. The super heated air was also dusty to the point where he had trouble seeing.

Kneeling - alright, hiding- behind a rack, Ful reeled off a colorful and descriptive tirade outlining what he would do to the dedicated who assigned this kitchen detail to him and the said dedicated’s spectacles in four-letter words.

When he grew wary of this activity, and because of the other’s increased levels of shouting, he rose once more and met with Merdyn, who was uncharacteristically frightful and disheveled with his singed, torn coat. But unharmed.

Summoning his elemental sword, Ful nodded, “yes, I know let’s do this. Nox taught me this weave in our first lesson together . . . Blood and bloody ashes! How the hell did they get in?"

Ooc: That's cool. this will be Ful's 2nd bubble of evil haha  Pls let me know if the end needs to be edited thanks!

Merdyn smiled. The smile seemed genuine, despite the aristocratic languor of the face. Ful thought it would not be impossible to like Merdyn. 

Ful was quietly astonished. Like all merchant class, he had dealt with nobles, who loathed commoners. He could never have believed he would hear such comradeship from one of them, especially one senior to him. Still this type of thing happened at the farm, where the only ranks that mattered came in dragon pins and black coats. 

Ful had already seen fighting in Tear and was actually glad of the calm and quiet down here in the southern side of the city. But still, waiting was sometimes hard.

“See anything?” He shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to be drawn into his fear of the dark. He sensed Merdyn’s shuddered breath, as saidin poured into the other. Fireballs followed, one, the other, then again. He’d missed. Light, the bugger was fast!

Ful saw movement again in the dark, the man sized weevil charging, and cursed. Didn’t he pull the best duty here? He checked his weapon, then reached for saidin.

He summoned a sword of light, realized his hands were shaking. This annoyance would have to be dealt with quickly. A smell of decay filled his nose, “No, this . . . bug would hurt us. It’s not normal, not of this world."

He struggled to explain, even as he breathed, squared, and swung his sword. The light whipped down and the black figure of the weevil was thrown up and flung backwards. It toppled back and slumped into the rubble on the floor.

Ful immediately took a new position behind one of the racks. Move, move, and re-aim! Ful willed silently, as Merdyn fired again.

This chore just got interesting.

At her position inside the carriage, Saline tensed.

She was weary from the night’s intelligence-gathering work. 

Every time she closed her eyes she saw the face, the face of Rory Baker when they fought. Rory was pale, and there was a dark look of anger in her eyes. She was not glad to see her lover.

Saline could read Lavinya Sedai’s soothing tone — and she despised it. She was well aware of the older aes sedai’s increased influence and favors; her helping Saline where Maegan had turned her down. A master politico, Lavinya understood, better than anybody Saline had ever met, the uses of persuasion - was clearly skilled in matters other than texts and treatises. She seemed to have made some headway with Corin Gaidin . . .

She cut off the thought. She could barely hide her bitterness at Rory's memory. Why begrudge others happiness ?

“Of course. I understand there is a report sent from Katar from our missing sisters’ party,” Saline said matter-of-factly. She held up the waxed pouch, reporting its contents “Lillian Sedai was kidnapped by persons unknown. Abigail Sedai and Rory Sedai journeyed beyond the Manetherendrelle, to Fal Dara and supported the local Lord. But one day three fists of trollocs attacked Fal Moran, and both white and green sisters pursued the trollocs from the capital. They never returned." 

"We can support Thera Gaidar’s company stationed at Fal Dara. But before this I need to meet with an old friend, Corwin.” She hoped they were still friends. He once protected her as a freshly minted red decades ago. Cor trained her how to fight with her scimitar.

Cor, who she now found out was alive, faked his death. Saline realized she had underestimated the extent of Corwin’s madness after his bond with Eqwina Sedai broke. Just what was that man after? Saline was not impressed. Still she listened to Beatrice, fascinated. This was the first she had heard Corwin wasn’t dead. Clearly the funeral had been staged— just what plan had Cor made efforts to suppress? And what was that about an Aiel woman, a student, with Cor? It could not be coincidence that Beatrice was voicing it in Saline’s presence. There were strong rumors of Eqwina being black . . . even with her current mission Saline had her duty to perform. Her sisters understood duty all too well.

“I trust I can count on your support in this when we meet with Corwin Gaidin. I want you with me, Lavinya. We can’t be pushing from different angles. He can be . . . sensitive.” 

Ooc: Thanks for letting me RP with you two a little longer. I figure we'll make camp soon, maybe it starts raining or something. Saline will leave you two alone with her note and be on her merry way to join Corwin's camp near Katar :)

Dedicated: Ful Haert

Learning RP: Saidin Related - 6/5, Medic Tent

Other Learning - 6/5, A Lesson in Etiquette 

Using Saidin: 5/5, Caemlyn That Day

Inter-Divisional RP: 3/8, Strengthening ties making stuff go boom

Asha'man Duel: 6/5, Double Dodge *saidin/weapons training teaching requirement ok'd

Below soldier reqs were approved.

Name: Ful Heart

Learning Saidin: 6/5 Saidin 101...In the Darkness We Run

Non Saidin Learning: Weapons Training with Isha

9/5 New Training

Free Roleplay: Thread One - 4/4, Full House

Thread Two - 3/4, Hungry, Hungry Soldiers

Thread Three - 5/4, Lunchtime for you and me

Despite his hours on duty, Ful Haert was suddenly awake again. Merdyn was right: they were not alone. There was a desperate moment of confusion as Ful tried to make sense of the two trollocs. They burst from the tree lines and Ful fell back before the attack, cursing his luck; it was all he could do not to cower in the face of this monumental clash. The noise level was painfully loud and the ground trembled. What were trollocs doing so far south?

The blond kid he rescued had started to break toward the stone quarry away from the fight. Ful caught him by the arm. “What in the blazes are you doing, boy?” Ignoring the close blasts behind, he threw them both into the cover of the river bank and hugged the child to him. 

He got up to see Merdyn fighting, engaging the trollocs with his earth daggers and cried out, “You’re mad! Let Nox worry about the beasts! Here is our problem.”

Protect this boy was Ful's priority. Ful did not save the child so he could die now. The asha’aman would protect them. Or they’d need to call for help. He managed to brace himself against the stonework and began weaving. A shield around them, keeping the boy’s head low. “Come on, you’re safe. I promise.” It was a soldier’s promise. Simple. And true.

“Yes, I’ll send word.”

Lillian nodded respectfully at the smiling white sister as the servant bowed and departed. She had still to get the measure of this younger white, but she liked Astradore. And her passion for mathematics. Her clear sense of duty. Lillian hoped Jagen’s trip wouldn’t come to . . . that. She won't be hung out to dry by an inexperienced woman again. Even well-meaning ones. This visit would give her a chance to get to know her and the other sisters better. Perhaps it would grow into trust one day.

Now what, she wondered?

Ooc: I enjoyed your post! sorry for the delay :)

Ful said, “Just air, I’m weak with the elements men are suppose to be strong in, like fire and earth.” It made sense Merdyn was strong in fire; he was handy at starting fires even without saidin. Ful smiled at the remembrance. He could see why Merdyn rubbed some of the higher ranked men the wrong way. As a noble he never learn to keep his head down or keep silent, probably. “Hum, I was in Tear and got recruited here. But I’m from a simple merchant family originally."

At Merdyn’s suggestion to hunt vermin, Ful sighed and let the weight of his dagger play in his hands. He nodded. Quietly, the two soldiers picked their way past the corridor of the storeroom, moving through from rack to rack. They checked each rack and section they came to. Over the sacks of grains there were tied off weaves to preserve food and stop weevils from infesting. Ful could hear the scurrying back and forth as they searched. 

He slid back into cover and made a hand gesture that the other could read. Both men retreated into the shadow. Ful summoned a globe of light to illuminate the wall and began to examine it warily.   

Ooh. Playing NPC char sounds fun! I'd like to play an add'tl NPC observer to help witness Aiden's actions or move the arc along in some small way. Please? 

Chewing on the strips of jerky, the little boy Ful rescued smiled, but the fear in his eyes and the wariness on his face diffused the power of expression and diluted the youthful exuberance of the boy. Painful.

“Not so easy,” Ful sighed. His heart sank as he stared at the blanketed boy. The child, hunched and frightened by his brush with death, the invisible flows. Determined to keep the strangers in the dark as to what he felt even as his ragged body was warmed and fed, savoring the sweet smell of the fire and salty taste of meat. “We can support him in what he decides. But he needs to tell us. His name. His feelings. His decision, town or farm." 

Probably it was the first time he'd been given a choice, a chance.

Ooc: thanks Matalina and Dar'Jen!

Ashley looked around and fought hard to screen out his emotions. He felt sorry for the other boys who looked sick at the slain rabbit. They had no experience of being poor, no knowledge of the way they starved and did anything to gain food. The boys here were too deeply entrenched upon their experience of safety and security, of sanity. 

From the back of the group, Ashley smiled encouragingly at Loraen in return. 

He crossed to Loraen and Aiden, limping slightly from the day’s exercises. “I wish to join you as well."

Lillian nodded, impressed by the younger aes sedai’s insight. She answered directly, her voice rich with the lilting vowel sounds of the domani accent. 

“Yes we take our responsibility seriously, to the tower, to our sisters. If we stop doing our work now, we’d be derelict in our duty to both. Let our soldiers gain glory with their bravado. History would relate our bravery here, fighting for light in ways only Aes Sedai can.”

She indicated her words with precise gestures of her nimble hands, her musician’s hands. “A fine assessment. I’d love to join you. Thank you.” She was willing to listen to an expert opinion.

Lillian Tremina

Ful fixed Merdyn with a big smile.

“No, never. We’ve had precious little fresh meat this is exciting. I would be happy to assist.” Ful looked on. He liked Merdyn already. He waved casually at his fellow volunteer also part of the supply detail as supervised by Merdyn. The other volunteer helped shifted crates of perishables to their appointed stacks.

There was another area allocated for slaughtering the pig and splitting it accordingly. 

Adjusting his apron strings so not to trip, Ful paced around the back of the supply stacks, moving through the darkness and checking the sturdy rear wall for holes.

A noise to the right.

Ful paused and swung around to where he heard the sound. Rats?

There was no further movement. Ful edged forward, but didn’t notice any crumbs or shreds of chewed away crate. He hefted his dagger and slide around the edge of the next stack of crates. 

Nothing. Putting his dagger away, he shuffled past the supply crates to the staging area where the pigs were. Ful and the other volunteer seized saidin, and drew out a thin thread of air. Air razor, letting out the blood, then cleaning with water flows. Slicing the pig was easy, but the parts were heavy. He was careful to stand a distance away and stay clear of any debris or blood. As he worked, deftly and quickly, Ful’s mind was lingered on the scurrying sound he heard in supply area. 

If not already they should lay traps - not poison - just in case of rodents. There might be also a weave to stop rodents from infiltrating the warehouse. He would check with Nox if that was possible.

Finally he lifted some fresh cuts of pork with air to Merdyn who already prepared the spice rub. “What next?"

Lillian blinked. She realized she was swaying a little, so she steadied herself against the tall back of her chair. The new school for inventors was news to her. She was not smiling. The importance of something like that, she understood immediately. Just in strategic terms alone . . . this impressed her. She must visit Cairhein, soon.

“I see.” Lillian said slowly, looking at Astradore. She was only two decades the other’s senior, but there seemed to be a gulf between them. “Well, that must be wonderful. You speak wisely, sister. Back in the old times, ages past, there were weaves intended for mundane use, including that of a farm, which are lost to us. Long gone are those ages, but this new age we can rediscover lost knowledge and forge new technologies. It’s a great honor to be an inventor, for a person to take up that duty of technological advancement. In this regard, mathematics has its uses. Discipline being one of them.” 

 Before her advancement into white ajah ranks, and the diamond philosophy of humanity, Lillian enjoyed maths. There was so much discipline, in the works and words of mathematics, which appealed to her logical thinking side. Even when it was complicated, the answer was simplicity itself - following the rules of logic infallibly. Mathematics arranged and ordered the world in ways chaotic words couldn’t. Without discipline in one’s words and action, what madness would that lead?

“Of course, not everybody can be soldiers. We must do what drives us, our work and loves. That must be why we have all these ajahs, each sister pursuing her interests.” 

It was good for her to reconnect with new sisters inside the ajah. She would go check out this new school of inventors and see what they came up with. It was a good tool; however, research was slow. You could spend years trying to invent something useful, and they didn’t have the luxury of time, so she understood. 

“We should get back to work,” Lillian said, standing up “there are students to teach, and arrangements to be made. Meanwhile, are you going to this school?"

If so, when?

Lillian Tremina

Merdyn had intercepted him at once. Not to demand, ‘where were you’ but to greet Ful and then offer him food. It was awkward for Ful to see the taller nobleman, Merdyn in a flour covered apron. Also, had he seen Merdyn kneading? The idea of a male soldier doing domestic chores should no longer be surprising to Ful. But it was. Regardless of titles and status everybody did their share of work. That was why he stood, small and short here in this kitchen. Maybe a life of kaf and boring rations had stunted his growth a bit. Or maybe he’d be one of those boys who’d suddenly become a young man in an adolescent explosion. He grinned. If he played up the childlike effect, it got him treats and favors. Every man became his big brother or uncle. For a moment he considered just to leave after eating; it was so busy nobody would notice -but it seemed wrong to shirk his duty.

Ful shook his head. “No, I got assigned kitchen duty today.” 

From the other side of the room both men and women were tucking into the soup with smiles on their faces. Ful stared at them with half a smile on his face. “That soup looks good. Wait, are you in charge here?"

“Oh yes,” said Ful, bright-eyed. He took the small folds of herbs and golden berries out of his satchel pocket. Those were gathered from Isha’s garden and the woods near his house earlier. “Look at this.” He said quietly, “are these edible?”

Handing the ingredients to Merdyn, Ful ran to the basin at the back to clean up first. Ful washed his face and hands, then slipped an oversized apron on and turned to Merdyn.

“Right, what can I do? Do you need anything chopped?” He was handy with air razor, if so. And he was familiar with the appearance and properties of salt - unlike the unfortunate Ardent.

Cray weekend. Will post tmr :)

post up! Left it open