Training came to a halt around midday, as it often did. Onatah, Inago’s mother, had brought them lunch from the village.

“Alright," Hunter said to Fawkes as Wroth and the other Aspirants gathered around the campfire. "Go grab some lunch. I’ll pop over to my side of things for a bit, and we can pick up where we left off when I’m back.”

Fawkes didn’t move. She stared at him, brow furrowed, something clearly on her mind.

“What?” Hunter asked, catching her expression.

“I would like to ask something of you,” she said, her tone suddenly solemn.

Hunter blinked.

“Anything.”

She hesitated for a moment, then spoke carefully.

“I’d like you to spend more time here. On our side of things, I mean.” She paused, looked away, took a breath. “Look, Hunter, I… I understand the complexities of your nature. I know you have to tend to your body there. I’m not asking you to choose. But it’ll do you a world of good to spend some downtime here, too. Connect with the people. Keep me and the mutt some company, too.”

That caught Hunter off guard. Ever since Fawkes had left to help Elder Rook’s people scout the Weald, he’d barely made an effort to spend more time in Elderpyre than was absolutely necessary for training. He'd kept his interactions brief, showing up for drills and exercises, but always disappearing right after. The only time he'd stuck around for an evening with the other Aspirants, pleasant as it had initially been, had almost ended in a fight with Yuma. Since then, he'd kept even more distance.

Hunter’s gaze drifted over to the camping site where Inago and Tayen were already helping Onatah build a fire. Wroth and Yuma, he would happily do without. But those three were good people. They’d been nothing but kind to him.

And then, of course, there was Fawkes. Fyodor, too. Hell, even the two feathery idiots, Biggs and Wedge. He’d been angry at Fawkes for wanting to set off on her own, but in truth, he himself was hardly any better. He’d been pulling away, looking for excuses. She was right. He should spend more time with them – starting right away.

“You’re right,” he nodded. “I’ll be around more, I promise.”

“You don’t have to –” Fawkes started, but he cut her off.

“It’s alright,” he said, attempting to smile. “I want to.”

“Good.”

She glanced over at the campsite as well, her signature dry smirk creeping back onto her face.

“Besides, I need someone to roll my eyes at when Wroth starts boasting and spinning tall tales again.”

***

It took Alex just under half an hour to stretch a bit and grab lunch. By the time he reentered the game, Fawkes and the rest were just settling down around the campfire, preparing to eat.

As soon as he approached, Fyodor bounded over, tail wagging furiously. The direwolf nuzzled against Alex, letting out a happy whine before plopping down at his feet, content to stay close by.

“Hunter!” Inago’s mother flashed him a big smile as he slipped into place among them. “Nice to see you! Come, settle down!”

“Hello, miss Onatah,” he smiled back. She was a kind-hearted woman, always ready with a hot meal and a gentle word. She had that way about her, the kind of warmth that made everyone feel at home.

“How have you been?” Onatah asked, pressing an earthenware bowl full of hot corn soup into his hands. “Elder Fawkes here was just telling us she’s working on finding a way to heal your hand.”

“Please, just Fawkes,” Fawkes winced, taking a gulp of her own soup. “All that ‘Elder’ business just makes me feel too old.”

“Terrible accident, that,” Onatah continued, her eyes lingering on her son with thinly veiled concern. “Elder Wroth, please, have them be more careful.”

Wroth, seated nearby, grunted.

“Accidents happen in training, sai. Besides, they’re hardly bairns to be coddled. They’re Aspirants.”

“True, true. But even Aspirants are someone’s son. Or daughter,” Onatah added, smiling warmly at Tayen.

Everyone ate and chatted lively around the fire, passing around bowls of simple, hearty food; spiced corn soup, flatbread, berries and nuts, and smoked fish wrapped in aromatic leaves. Hunter sampled a little bit of everything, just enough to be polite, but didn’t really eat. He didn’t need to, and he figured it was better to leave more for the others who did. Onatah, of course, would have none of it.

“Oh, nonsense,” she said, pressing another serving of flatbread into his hands. “Eat up – there’s plenty to go around, and you need your strength!”

Yuma, who hadn’t really been participating, spoke up.

“Have the elders decided it’s safe for the Hunters to go back into the Weald yet?”

“Just last night,” Onatah said. “Daeran promised he’d bring back some hares and fowl, so here’s to hoping I’ll have something better to cook for you come tomorrow.”

“Not that we need anything better, miss Onatah,” Hunter chimed in. “Your cooking’s top-notch. This corn soup alone could keep me coming back for days.”

“Nonsense,” said Wroth, who’d been eating like a horse. “Warriors need meat. No offense to your cooking, though, sai. It is delicious.”

“Thank the both of you,” Onatah smiled. “You’re too kind. What about your mother, Hunter? Did she cook like this back home? I imagine she must’ve had a few special recipes of her own.”

Hunter shifted uncomfortably at the unexpected question. His relationship with his mother was complicated – distant, strained, more silence than warmth between them.

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“Uh… she never was much of a cook, miss Onatah," he said carefully. "What with her working two jobs and all.”

“Oh. Apologies. That sounds difficult.”

“No harm done,” Hunter forced a smile. “I taught myself to cook a mean cup of instant noodles, so it all worked out.”

Onatah looked like she was just about to ask what instant noodles were, but Tayen beat her to it.

“So, women have to work in your world?”

“Of course,” Hunter shrugged. “Everybody has to, if they want to make ends meet.”

Tayen hesitated for a moment.

“What kind of jobs do men and women do?” she asked, her tone cautious but curious. “Is it the same work, or is it different?”

“Mostly the same,” Hunter said, considering it for a moment. “Some jobs still have more men than women, and vice versa. It just depends on the place and the kind of work. But yeah, for the most part, anyone can do anything.”

“Sounds interesting,” Tayen said, nodding thoughtfully.

“Indeed,” Yuma piped in, not bothering to look up from his bowl. “So interesting that one would wonder why you’d leave all that behind and grace us with your presence.”

Both Wroth and Fawkes shot him sharp, warning stares, but Hunter wasn’t about to take the bait.

“Oh, there’s many things that make this place worth the visit,” he said in his most infuriatingly pleasant voice, not missing a beat. “Miss Onatah’s cooking, for one.”

“I can attest to that, too,” said Fawkes, playing along.

“You’re too kind, the both of you,” Onatah said, round cheeks flushing slightly.

“It’s only the truth, ma,” Inago added between bites.

The group fell into a comfortable silence, the crackle of the campfire and the soft clatter of bowls filling the air. Even Yuma, for all his brooding, seemed content to finish his meal in peace. Hunter leaned back slightly, feeling the warmth of the fire on his face, and for the first time in a long while, he let himself relax.

***

“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” asked Fawkes, picking a spot to sit down.

“No,” admitted Hunter. “They’re good people. Well, mostly. Yuma’s still an ass.”

After finishing their meal, Hunter and Fawkes had split from the others and gone to the other side of the Training Grounds to practice Essence cycling some more. They settled down, legs crossed, backs straight, and got to work – Hunter focusing on his Essence, while Fawkes pored over the old Lodgeman’s logbook, pen in hand.

A few minutes passed before Hunter finally spoke, too annoyed to properly focus.

“For the life of me, I can’t figure out what his problem is.”

“Whose?” Fawkes asked, not even looking up from her notes, already absorbed in her work.

“Yuma’s.”

“Oh.” She glanced up, fixing Hunter with a curious eye. “So he did get under your skin, after all. I was wondering.”

“He didn’t do shit. Well, no. Maybe he did. A little. Point is, he’s had it out for me since day one, and I don’t understand why.”

“Some people don’t need a reason, Hunter.” Fawkes sighed. “Or rather, the true reason has little to do with you personally. You’re different, you don’t fit his mold... and that’s enough of an excuse to rub someone like Yuma the wrong way, I suppose.”

“And I’m just supposed to turn the other cheek?”

“I never said that. But it’s up to you.”

Hunter frowned, weighting her words.

“A few nights ago, he came to me to apologize for…” he gestured with his injured hand. “You know. He sounded sincere, too – right up until I told him I’d probably find a way to fix my hand and that I wasn’t planning on dropping out of this whole Aspirant business.Then he got angry. Said he’s under a lot of pressure being the best hope the folken have to stop what’s killing them. Said that training with me and the others is only slowing him down.” Hunter paused, shaking his head. “I’m paraphrasing a bit, but that’s more or less the gist of it.”

“I see,” Fawkes said, thoughtful. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

“It does?”

“Well… It’s all a big load of bollocks, of course,” Fawkes shook her head. “The important thing is that he believes it, and so does his father. That’s a lot of weight to bear. Especially since he’d rather focus on playing ‘hide the zucchini’ with the lass, Tayen.”

Tha caught Hunter off guard.

“What – you think him and Tayen…?”

“Grimnir’s beard, lad,” Fawkes rolled her eyes. “You do have eyes, don’t you? They’re betrothed.”

“They are?”

““Yes,” she confirmed with a sigh. “In fact, that’s indirectly the reason we got mixed up in – how do you say it? This whole Aspirant business.”

That, of course, made zero sense to Hunter. Seeing his confusion, Fawkes began explaining.

“Vanchik is the alderman, yes? But the folken are divided. Not everybody supports him. Sooner or later, he’ll be forced to step down. He wants his son – that’s Yuma – to take over as the next alderman. So he makes a plan. Is that clear so far?”

Hunter nodded slowly, trying to piece it all together. “Yeah, so far, so good. Go on.”

“For Yuma to be as strong and popular an alderman as possible, both in the eyes of the folken and the Ancestors, he needs two things,” Fawkes continued. “First, he needs the blessing of the Sage of the White Cloud. Second, he needs a good wife. For the blessing, he asks none other than a celebrated hero of the Brennai—Elder Wroth—to train Yuma as an Aspirant.”

Hunter nodded again, and Fawkes went on.

“And for the second part... what better wife could an up-and-coming alderman ask for than the grandniece of Hallara Besk herself?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Tayen?”

“Yes. Politics, tradition, and convenience all rolled into one neat little package. Only there’s a slight problem; the lass proves to be a bit too strong-minded to fit the mold of a prize wife,” Fawkes finished, a dry smirk tugging at her lip. “She’s not the type to sit quietly and play the part, no matter what Yuma or his alderman father might think.”

“...so she demands to be trained as an Aspirant too,” Hunter finally caught up. “To prove she’s not just some prize to be handed over.”

“Exactly.”

“And how do we fit in all this?”

“To agree to the troth, Tayen demands not only to be trained as an Aspirant, but her training to be overseen by a woman, too. Perhaps this was her looking for a loophole to rid herself of the proposal without insulting anyone’s honor, as the only Brennai woman warranted to oversee the training of an Aspirant in her very own too-old great aunt.”

“To agree to the troth, Tayen demands not only to be trained as an Aspirant, but for her training to be overseen by a woman as well,” Fawkes explained. “And, who knows? Maybe she was looking for a loophole to rid herself of the proposal without insulting anyone’s honor. After all, the only Brennai woman warranted to oversee an Aspirant’s training is her far-too-old great aunt. And as it looks like the alderman and his heir-to-be have run out of options…” Fawkes shrugged, “in walks little old me.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Of course, at the time, all that interested me was catching up to Reiner before he did something foolish and got in over his head,” Fawkes said with a sigh. “So naturally, I refused. The rest of the story, you can probably piece together yourself.”

“Alright, I get most of it,” Hunter frowned. “Yuma’s an Aspirant because his old man’s grooming him to be the next big shot. Tayen wants to avoid being some trophy wife. Me, I got roped in because you thought it’d be fun, ha ha, I’m tickled pink. But what about Inago? How does he fit in?”

“Ah, that’s maybe the best part,” Fawkes said with a wry grin. “When I told Vanchik I’d only agree to train Yuma and Tayen if they accepted you as an Aspirant too, he tried to weasel out of it with some technicality – something about tradition demanding Aspirants be trained in even numbers. So, naturally, I suggested we include the village idiot for balance.”

“He’s not an idiot,” Hunter said, feeling obliged to defend Inago, who’d only ever been a kind friend to him. “He’s actually a great guy.”

“Oh, I know, I know. But his family’s among the poorest in the village. That made him the perfect choice. He got a shot at a better life, and I got to watch Vanchik have conniptions.”

“That’s…” Hunter shook his head, half-amused, half in disbelief. “You’re fucking diabolical.”

“Eh,” she shrugged, clearly satisfied with herself. “I’ve been called worse.”