28 Fyrva, 350BFD, 15 Ur
Northgate, Shevezz City
She had sent a messenger for her errand, but she continued to fidget nervously with her necklace, the beads of solid glass-stone from the Southern reaches of
Crescent Cliffs clicked in rhythm, grounding her, yet also preventing her from thinking about anything else. She took two sips of refined Aszilousii water, enough to retain minimum hydration, but little more. Cursing her requirement to stay at the gate, she turned to the pile of slates in her booth, wondering who else she could write to or summon.
"It's alright,
Vazkyr," she muttered, unconvinced by the words the moment they had escaped her mouth, "the city has gone two days without a delivery before."
The only problem with that parallel, she remembered, was that last time, an
Aevyormii representative had arrived - on time - apologised, and explained they had been repairing the transportation vessels. Today, however, they were six Urs late, and with no reason given.
"Why can't science... for once... keep pace with our
actual needs, not just the researchers' whims?"
She was about to chalk a warning to the city's Management when her messenger returned, sweating and breathless.
"Easy now, Kykass," she said soothingly, passing him a tiny cup of water.
He held it with the care afforded to priceless relics, and slowly drained the cup, ensuring not one sip escaped. While his head still glistened, his breath returned to him and he passed the cup back to Vazkyr.
"Th-thank you for sharing your ration. Pl-please take rest to compensate."
Vazkyr shook her head.
"Not until I know what is happening with the supply."
Kykass unlatched the small gate to the tiny booth and squeezed himself in beside his former mentor to escape the beating sun. Torn between needing personal space and compassion for her Shield-Mate, she shuffled to make room, trying to appear more patient than she felt.
"You remember the two people we were taught as our duty to protect, " Kykass stated, ensuring it did not sound like a condescending question, "Shevezz - and Her Friends. It always invokes pride to say that out loud."
"Naturally," the clerk slowly responded slowly.
Kykass took a huge breath in and closed his eyes.
"Keep that in mind, please."
He gently reached into a long pouch he had attached to his belt and pulled out a fistful of large feathers, placing them carefully on the counter in front of Vazkyr, who was unable to hold back a shocked gasp.
"Where did you get those?" she demanded, "these are..."
"Blue-tipped," Kykass interrupted, "and before you ask, I didn't steal them. My shield training was not the warrior form, so I also did not take them by force. I found them by the concealed tunnel-supply chute."
The clerk pushed her forefingers into her head as though the pressure would force out a positive and rational answer to the cause and shuddered to think what may have occurred if the rational answer was not one she wanted to hear.
"Aevyormii only drop feathers... from fear or chance, and not in this quantity," she recalled, "just how many are here?"
She began to count and stopped at twenty, when her hand began to shake.
"This... is this... all of them?" she asked, knowing Kykass would not have rushed through the heat for anything trivial.
Despair set in when he averted her gaze.
"Hùlàn," she cursed, "sorry, I can't hide my root language," she apologised, as though somehow, that would have become the most pressing matter.
She certainly wished it had.
"What can I do? I am just a clerk, now."
Kykass shot her a glare that briefly shamed her. The Silent Shields of Shevezz were, effectively, a civilian branch of the career military. They were trained in defensive fighting, which often meant shields and some form of other weapon, usually of the melée classification. After that, they took two paths - the Warrior and non-Warrior paths. Warriors took on extra training, which, for most, meant being instructed by a military scout, then sent out on hunts or forays to acquire meat, or other resources in dangerous areas of the wild. In the non-Warrior path, the
Shevezzi retained their usual jobs or roles in the Queendom, but had to be ready to be called up should the Queen's forces required them. Inside the city, most were unarmed, though many wore supple armour layers under their civilian attire for protection. Their role was forming a network where information could be communicated about the state of the city, suspicious visitors, or anything else that their superiors may need to know. They protected the
Shevezzi way of life, its knowledge and resources and, to some degree, its borders too. Because they often felt sidelined by "real fighters", non-warriors were constantly reminded that, no matter their role in society, they were always Shields. Both of their assigned names even inferred that fact.
"You're right," Vazkyr accepted, trying to calm her nerves, "even so, we need a scout - armed or accompanied by an armed guard - to check on
The Nectar Glen. Can you, please, find the Supplies Manager, Auditor, or Secretary? Any of those three will be fine. Get them to meet me. I will try to find a scout. Failing that, it will have to be an overseer."
"Well, negotiating is your skill, but I can track the others, no worries," Kykass nodded.
He re-opened the gate, stepped out, and made to leave, before swinging around, his eyes wide.
"Wait. Aren't the
Aevyormii pure white? I vaguely remember a lecture on them and only white feathers were mentioned, except for grey denoting older, or sometimes high-ranking wing-folk. So they don't have blue-tipped ones, is what I'm trying to say."
The clerk paused and, for a brief moment felt the relief of being wrong, before hope sunk as a rock launched into the Bluelight Ocean, and she instantly despised her own analogy.
"The blue is... their...their blood. This is even worse than I had feared."
Kykass watched her, knowing they should act on evidence and not fear, but also aware of the fact that knowledge did not easily overcome emotions. That realisation seemed to pull him into the ground. After a moment, Vazkyr frowned, resolved in the approach she had just described, but knew the city gate would be briefly unwatched to action it.
"It will just have to be unmanned," she decided, "I'll leave a note. You," she continued, looking at Kykass, "please hurry. I need to recruit a scout or two. Meet me back here at seventeen Ur."
Kykass nodded blankly, feeling rooted to the spot. The clerk scrawled an explanation in somewhat legible writing, and left it on the counter next to the feathers. She placed her sealed ink pot on the note and sighed. It was then she realised Kykass had not left as instructed. She looked up at her messenger and felt both pity and annoyance, but knew only one of those would break him out of his current state.
"Kykass!" she sternly snapped, "go! Go now!"
As though suddenly reconnected to his brain, he turned and sprinted towards the city's central district. Vazkyr looked up at the huge flight of steps leading to the top of the wall where scouts and guards were posted, and gulped.
"Now is not the time to give in to your fear, especially one so irrational as the fear of heights."
Heights themselves pose no danger. People putting themselves in danger of falling from a great height are an entirely different matter.
She lifted her head and shielded her eyes from the light that reflected from the heat-deflecting polish most of Shevezz was coated in.
"For Her Friends," she repeated.
Vazkyr pushed back her shoulders and ran.
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