"I've already eaten," Sylas declared to the group, their eyes tracking him with a hunger that matched his own discomfort. His stomach churned from his earlier indulgence, but he pressed on.

"Then I trust this is for us?" Roy inquired, stepping forward with drool glistening on his lips.

"You'd be mistaken," Sylas replied curtly, shoving the smaller man aside as he continued. The rabbit in his grasp was not his, but for Aerith and himself. Aerith had sent him hunting, longing for a meal that offered more than the usual fare. Even though the camp’s chef provided ample food, Sylas had learned in the Sea of Reeds that quality always trumped quantity.From the corner of his eye, Sylas noticed Vyra. He tried to avoid her, knowing she wouldn't leave him be if she discovered his plans with Aerith. His efforts were in vain; she approached him, her black hair streaming behind her like a banner atop a castle tower.

"Going to eat off by yourself again, I see," Vyra remarked, her disdain evident. Sylas narrowed his eyes but chose to ignore her. With an air of superiority, he lifted his chin and strode past. His attempt to dismiss her only seemed to provoke her further. She followed silently until realization struck her.

"Are you going to eat with Aerith?" she cried, jumping in front of him. Sylas sighed, knowing he couldn’t shake her off now.

"Yes, just me and Aerith. Notice you weren't invited, so move," Sylas said, pushing her aside. She blocked his way, undeterred. Grabbing his arm, she tried to trip him, but he landed on his feet, his arm twisted uncomfortably. He glared at her, but she held on stubbornly.

"Why wasn't I invited?" she complained, twisting his arm further. Sylas stamped his foot in pain, but she ignored it. "Why is it always you? I've been here much longer."

"Maybe because I'm less annoying," he retorted. She shot him a sharp glare, coming face to face with him.

"The only annoying thing here is you trailing Aerith like a lost goat," she spat. Enraged, Sylas smacked her with the rabbit carcass. She shrieked, yanked it from his hands, and flung it far outside the castle ruins. They stared at the spot where it landed before turning back to each other, tension crackling between them.

"Great, now none of us will eat with Aerith," Vyra said, crossing her arms with a sigh.

"That was my rabbit!" Sylas shouted. She recoiled, taking a fighting stance, and Sylas knew he couldn't let her insolence go unpunished. He roared in fury, swinging a punch, but stopped midway at the sound of a cheerful voice.

"Sylas, I can hear Vyra out there too! Why don't you invite her along?" Sylas collapsed to the ground with a groan. Vyra stuck her tongue out at him and headed up the stairs.

"You can explain about the rabbit," Sylas muttered, quickly following her. She laughed, her whole body shaking as if it were the funniest thing she had ever heard. Sylas couldn’t see the humor in it. They reached Aerith's door, and Vyra pushed it open, peering inside until Aerith swung it wide with a grin. His white curls framed his face as he spun around the room, settling into his chair.

"Come in, come in," he greeted. He looked at Sylas expectantly, as if waiting for something.

"Oh yes, the rabbit," Sylas muttered, glancing at Vyra. She looked away, feigning innocence, and Sylas sighed. "It ran away when I caught it," he lied, holding his breath. Beside him, Vyra sighed in relief.

"While it was dead?" Aerith asked incredulously. Sylas rubbed his face, feeling hotter by the second.

"Well, it wasn't dead—not yet—so that's how it ran away," Sylas explained. Aerith raised a brow, clearly skeptical.

"So, you're saying you caught it with your hands while chasing it? Because otherwise, you'd have used a tool and killed it, right? Or am I mistaken?" Aerith pressed. Sylas laughed nervously, nudging Vyra to speak up, but she remained silent.

"No, you're not mistaken, Aerith," Sylas replied. "I caught it with my hands. It didn't see me coming, and before I knew it, I had it. But then it jumped out of my grasp and got away." He stared into Aerith's eyes, willing him to believe the story. Aerith laughed, patting Sylas on the back.

"Well then, you must be quite the hunter, Sylas. Both a warrior and a hunter," he said, rubbing his nose. "Few of those, few of those," he muttered. He gestured for them to sit on the floor, and they complied.

"You handled that pretty well, you know. Props to you," Vyra said with a sly grin.

"Thank you very much," Sylas replied through gritted teeth. She giggled, and Aerith smiled, prompting Sylas to smile as well. Despite Vyra's occasional annoyance, their company always felt comforting.

"Rabbit or not, we still have important matters to discuss," Aerith said, his stomach grumbling. "We would have needed to cook it anyway, and who knows how long that would have taken." He shook his head, dismissing the rabbit. "On to more important matters," he said, taking a scroll from the table and holding it out to Sylas. Sylas reached for it, then hesitated, remembering he couldn't read. Aerith grinned at him.

"This message was sent by our employers with an intriguing offer I'd like to discuss with you both," Aerith said, unfurling the scroll. "It's an unusual contract, one that might require more..." he gestured vaguely, searching for the word, "diplomacy. They could have sent a diplomat, but no matter."

"What does it say?" Vyra asked, peering curiously at the scroll. Aerith pulled it away, pushing her face back, and Sylas chuckled.

"The king wants us to join his military," Aerith said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "It's quite unorthodox, and I'm uncertain how he'll proceed with this." He rolled up the scroll, looking at them expectantly.

"It sounds like a good idea, but wouldn't that mean we stop being mercenaries?" Vyra remarked. Aerith sighed, reclining in his chair.

"True, but it's a step toward something more," he said, staring into the distance.

"And what would that be?" Vyra asked. Aerith grabbed her face, grinning.

"I'm glad you asked. It makes me happy when you do, but I can't tell you yet. Maybe one day," he replied. Vyra blinked, her cheeks turning rosy.

"Well then, let's join," Sylas said, stretching out his legs. "You seem eager, so what more is there to say?" He picked at something between his teeth.

"Forgive me for valuing my soldiers' opinions," Aerith said, standing up. Sylas could only wonder how far that value went for Aerith. Vyra snorted.

"Sylas hardly represents what they think. I know them better. Sylas probably doesn't even know their names." Sylas debated whether to be angry, knowing her words held some truth. He knew a few names, but not many. The one he knew best, besides Vyra and Aerith, was Landon. Landon often checked on Sylas, bringing food and engaging in conversations Sylas enjoyed, despite himself. It saddened him that he didn't visit Landon more often.

"Then Sylas would need to represent himself if he were the only one like him in this camp," Aerith said. Vyra shrugged, muttering something inaudible.

"Well then, I will accept this deal," Aerith announced, stretching. Though it was still high noon, Sylas suspected that Aerith rarely slept.

"Does this mean we would move into the castle?" Sylas asked, curious. Aerith smiled.

"Eyeing the high life, Kor'Zil?" Aerith teased. Sylas shrugged, smiling a bit himself.

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"I wonder what kind of food they have," Vyra mused, biting her lip. "Imagine the pastries and meats." She stood up, gripping Aerith's shoulders. Sylas felt a chill seeing her so touchy with their captain, but Aerith didn't seem to mind."What's their king like, Aerith? Only you've seen him, right?" she asked, spinning him around. Aerith laughed but stopped her by holding her hips. He looked into her eyes for a moment, and Sylas wondered if he was wanted in the room.

"This king has a castle larger than any we've ever seen," Aerith said. "Bigger than the Altan's castle, and grander than the mountains in Cragoria." Vyra's eyes sparkled, and Sylas wondered how long she had lived here with Aerith in these castle ruins.

"We'd have our own rooms?" Sylas asked. Aerith nodded.

"You'd have the loneliest room for yourself, Kor'Zil," Aerith said, placing a hand on Sylas's shoulder as he walked by him. "Come, let us get food from the chef. I'm starving." Vyra quickly followed Aerith out but stopped to look back at Sylas.

"Are you coming?" Vyra asked. Sylas nodded, covering his left eye. It felt odd, almost as if it were shaking. When he removed his hand, everything he saw from that eye was blurred, the world trembling. He banged the side of his head repeatedly until Vyra caught his arm, looking shocked.

"What are you doing?" she asked, concerned. Sylas met her gaze and realized the shaking had stopped. How peculiar.

"Oh, just a minor headache, probably from sleeping on the stone," he mumbled. Rolling her eyes, she pulled him out of the room. Sylas noticed Aerith hadn't waited for them, but Vyra didn't seem bothered.

"You should really take some hay or blankets," Vyra said, touching where he'd hit his head.

"I've never needed them until now," Sylas replied. She shrugged.

"Doesn't mean you won't need them now," she retorted, leaving Sylas tongue-tied. Aerith turned around, smiling and waving for them to join him. They hurried over. The cook, "Bro," looked happier than Sylas had ever seen him.

"It's an honor to have you here, Captain Aerith," Bro said, grinning broadly. Aerith inclined his head slightly, a hint of mock respect.

"It's good to come out and keep the troops happy," he joked. Sylas sensed everyone's eyes on them as they got their food. When Bro served Sylas, the only word to describe the meal was 'brown'—nothing else quite fit. No one else seemed bothered as they began eating. Aerith motioned for them to follow him up a staircase, overlooking the others gathering below."How's the food?" Aerith called down. There were mixed replies, mostly positive. Sylas pushed his plate away, feeling nauseous. Vyra shot him a glare.

"You don't like it?" Vyra accused, and Sylas shook his head.

"Just not hungry, that's all," he replied, patting his stomach. It wasn't a lie; he had eaten while hunting, but Vyra didn't believe him.

"I call it bogus," she declared, grabbing his spoon and holding it out to him. Sylas leaned back, lips tight, refusing to eat. "You're just like a child!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, a child who isn't hungry," Sylas muttered, but his defiance backfired as she shoved the spoon into his mouth. He gagged, coughing and spitting it out, the food falling down onto someone's head below. Luckily, it was Stone, and Sylas groaned. Vyra burst into laughter, struggling to stifle it.Glancing at Aerith, Sylas felt uneasy under his gaze. Aerith turned away, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the ruined room as he addressed the soldiers gathered below. There were too many for Sylas to count, maybe fifty or so he guessed.

"My good soldiers!" Aerith called out. "I've received a message from our employer, the King. We're to join his army. A great honor, wouldn't you all agree?" Cheers erupted, some soldiers tossing plates and embracing each other. Sylas noticed Bro's crestfallen expression, confirming his earlier suspicion.

"When will this contract be in place, Captain?" someone shouted from the crowd. Aerith laughed, crossing his legs, clearly amused by the enthusiasm of his soldiers.

"I'll go tomorrow, accompanied by my good friends Kor'Zil and Vyra, of course. In our absence, I'll leave Stone in charge here," Aerith declared. Sylas sighed in relief, glad he wouldn't be left alone with Stone. He noticed not everyone seemed thrilled about him accompanying Aerith, a pang hitting his heart, but he pushed the feeling aside.

"Tell them about the perks we'll get once we join their army!" Vyra exclaimed, shaking Aerith's shoulder. He paused, then relayed the details. The soldiers erupted in excitement, some rushing off to pack, though Sylas doubted they had much beyond their swords.

"Let's not rush," Aerith cautioned, raising a hand. "Wait until I give the order. Nothing is set in stone yet." The soldiers murmured and grumbled as they returned to their places.

"Why's Kor'Zil going with you and not one of us?" someone called from the crowd. Aerith's smile wavered briefly. Emboldened, others began to voice their discontent, much to Sylas's disappointment. Vyra laughed, playfully punching Sylas in the shoulder.

"See?" she teased. "I'm not the only one who finds you annoying." Sylas managed a sheepish laugh, which seemed to sober her amusement. Surprisingly, she placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. Startled, Sylas looked at her; her cheeks flushed, she quickly withdrew her hand, as if surprised by her own gesture.

"It's my order, and it won't be questioned," Aerith snapped suddenly, his voice cutting through the murmurs. Instantly, the soldiers fell silent, not daring to utter a word. In the quiet, Sylas thought he could hear a fly's wings flapping across realms. Aerith glared down at them before turning to Sylas and Vyra.

"Go to your quarters and rest until dawn tomorrow. Pack your things, if you have any," he ordered. With that, their audience with Aerith ended as he descended the stairs, every step regal. The soldiers parted to let him through, heads bowed.

"You enjoying that?" Vyra asked, lying down on the floor. Sylas chuckled, noticing Aerith had left his food untouched, which struck him as amusing.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," he admitted, leaning back against the wall. They stood in silence for a moment until Vyra spoke again.

"You don't have anything besides your swords to take, do you?" she inquired. Sylas shook his head.

"Nothing else," he confirmed. She nodded slowly, then got back up.

"What if we go hunting out there?" she suggested. Sylas burst into laughter.

"Why bother when there's good food right here at our feet?" he teased. She rolled her eyes, poking his chest lightly.

"I'm suggesting it for the sport, not because the food's bad," she retorted.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible liar?" he quipped. She punched his chest playfully, her touch light.

"Well, I think I'll go get some sleep," Sylas said, stretching. "I have trouble sleeping at night anyway, so it's probably better for me." Vyra sighed, looking disappointed.

"If you say so," she replied, starting to descend the stairs, leaving Sylas alone again. He waited until she was a distance away before heading down himself. The main yard was empty after Aerith's departure, so he encountered no obstacles returning to his area.Upon arriving, Sylas realized his space was so small it could hardly accommodate more than two people, intensifying his sense of loneliness. His swords stood proudly, but even they failed to stir any emotions in him. He climbed onto the makeshift bed and leaned against it, feeling weary.

"Disappointed again, are we?" came a hoarse voice from behind him. Sylas immediately recognized the voice of the old man.

"I wouldn't say disappointed," Sylas replied, but the old man just snorted.

"Tell that to someone who'd believe it," he retorted hoarsely. "I certainly wouldn't." Sylas rolled his eyes, wondering what the man wanted from him."I hear you're going to the King's castle with Aerith," the old man said, attempting to start a conversation.

"Yes, I am," Sylas replied dryly. Now it was the old man's turn to sigh loudly, though it sounded more like a cough.

"Well, I must admit, this rabbit tastes very good," the old man commented, munching on something. Now he had piqued Sylas's interest. He turned around to get a good look at the man but froze when he spoke again.

"I wouldn't suggest that now," the old man warned. "I'm quite an ugly sight, you know. There's a reason not many come by to look after me."

"Where did you get the rabbit, then?" Sylas demanded. The man laughed, a sound akin to thunder.

"Well, I can still walk when I want to," he replied mysteriously, munching down on his rabbit again. Sylas wanted to get a good look at the man, but he realized it didn't really matter; he would just see an old and weathered face, nothing much to look at.

"What's your name, old man?" Sylas called out. Since their first conversation, he had spoken to the man only twice more, despite his attempts, but he had never thought to ask for his name.

"Oh, I don't remember, in truth," the man said, letting out a loud burp. "It's been ages, anyway. And who needs a name? I mean, you didn't tell Aerith yours, did you?" He chuckled, sending a shiver down Sylas's spine.

"Of course, when you have no name..." The man continued, "...what name can you give?""Right," Sylas said, looking back without moving his head.

"I guess names aren't that important," he conceded, but the man made a tsk tsk noise."Wrong," he corrected.

"I said 'who needs a name,' not that names were useless. Someone important like you could certainly use a name." The man's words confused Sylas; he didn't fully understand what he was saying.

"You think I'm important?" he asked disbelievingly. The man laughed again, sounding like lightning in a storm.

"Not yet, oh brothers, no!" the old man declared. "But one day, you will be important, that's what I know." Rain began to fall from the darkened sky, casting a shadow over him, leaving him in the dim light. It felt as though this always happened, as if the rain fell because of him. Once, he would have scoffed at such thoughts, dismissing them as ridiculous. He was no one important, or so he told himself.

"That's what you believe," he murmured, gazing up at the sky. As the rain descended, he let it wash over him. It trailed down his face and soaked his clothes, and for a fleeting moment, he felt a semblance of peace.