Petre had barely slept, constantly replaying what had happened in their mind. So much so that they were up by dawn, waiting for the sun to rise enough to not make barging into Ainreth’s tent too unacceptable. Though Petre assumed that no matter what, their timing would be off.

They were more than a little surprised when they arrived, however, only to see that the tent was once more unguarded, and when Petre stuck their head inside of it, Ainreth was sitting at his small desk, writing something down. And yes, it was writing this time, not doodling. Petre was certain. Apparently, the Daybreaker woke up with sunrise. Appropriate, Petre supposed.

“Si—Ainreth.” Petre tried not to wince. They would get it right eventually. Ainreth looked up at them, surprise on his face for a second before he seemed to remember why Petre was here.

“Great, you’re here!” Ainreth put the quill into the inkpot, bringing Petre’s attention back to what Ainreth had been writing. Though they couldn’t read the words, they were written in neat lines into what appeared to be a thick, leather-bound book. It looked too heavy and cumbersome to be another journal.

“Nuh-uh, no peeking until it's done,” Ainreth joked, shutting the book when he apparently noticed Petre’s interest.

Petre frowned. Perhaps since Ainreth himself had brought it up, they should ask? “Um, what is it?”

Ainreth wiggled an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you like to know? I’m writing a novel, of course.”

That was about the last thing Petre would have guessed. They hadn’t even been aware that the general could write. Unless he was skipping pages for some reason, he was nearing the middle of the book, which must have been at least two hundred pages. Petre felt morbid curiosity almost overwhelm them at the prospect of seeing what Ainreth had written already.

But they held their curiosity subdued. As much as they wanted to know what was going on here, it was none of their business unless Ainreth wanted to share. Still, they could ask. “About your experiences as a powerful az-ari, I presume?”

Ainreth chuckled, a grin on his face. “I’ll have plenty of time to write about that when I’m two hundred years old.” He wiggled his finger at Petre. “No, no, this book is about….” Ainreth frowned, narrowing his eyes, his smile gone. “How old did you say you were? This might be too suggestive for your baby ears.”

Petre sighed. Of course Ainreth would write about sex. What else would he write about? Petre had no idea how Ainreth was planning on managing to fill so many pages with that, but if anyone could find a way it was Ainreth.

“You speak Orinovan, don’t you?”

Petre nodded, not liking where this was going at all.

“Think you could translate this once it’s done?”

Petre wanted to say yes, assuming they would get paid for their time fairly, but at the same time, reading smut written by their superior might just be the thing to break them. So instead of just agreeing, Petre decided to do the responsible thing and point out the logical hole in this idea. “I don’t think Orinovo would be interested in anything written by an az-ari who defeated them.”

Ainreth didn’t seem too upset about Petre saying this, shrugging and stroking a hand over the book’s cover. Far too slowly. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

Okay, this was getting uncomfortable. “May I ask why you called me here?”

“Oh yeah, right.” Ainreth cleared his throat, his expression growing more serious. “What happened at dinner—I don’t like that happening.”

Petre had to admit that the way the general tended to speak, while ridiculous, was at least refreshingly simple and direct. “I don’t particularly like it either.”

“Great, glad we agree.” Ainreth got up, beginning to slowly pace around Petre and the desk in a circle, a finger pressed to his bottom lip as his forehead creased in thought. “So, I want you to figure out who the problem people are and report them to me.”

Petre’s eyebrows flew up. Ainreth…wanted to do something about his soldiers? In general? That was good, of course, but Ainreth was generally completely outside of the goings on in the regiment. Or at least he seemed to be. During this week alone, Petre couldn’t think of a single time he’d seen Ainreth interact with any soldier aside from ordering them to bring him a bottle of whatever kind of alcohol they still had here.

“I think Hantyr is dealt with, so you don’t have to write that guy down. But everyone else.”

Petre wanted to be positive, but they could already think of several issues with this idea. First and foremost: “I don’t think the Bulwark will appreciate you…disciplining people by blinding them.”

“Who cares what she thinks?” Ainreth immediately grumbled, but then he stopped by the desk, putting up a hand as he cleared his throat. “I mean I am not going to do that again.” His lips formed a displeased line. “I think it’s effective, though.”

“Why did you do it, anyway?”

The question made its way out of Petre’s lips before they could stop it. But they were dying to know.

Ainreth gaped at Petre for a bit before answering with something almost like outrage in his tone. “You’re my little guy, of course I’m going to beat up anyone who harasses you!”

Petre just stared at him. Should they be offended or touched? They were mostly just confused, if they were honest. Did the term little guy have a special meaning that they were not aware of? Petre was starting to think that was the case because they had to be missing something.

“Is this what you usually call your lieutenants?” Petre ventured a guess, but Ainreth just shook his head at him, as if Petre was being silly.

“No, of course not. All the others were annoying, arrogant jackasses. They don’t deserve a nickname like that.”

It took all of Petre’s willpower to stay silent and not to turn that against Ainreth, even though it would be oh so easy. “Um, thank you. I think.”

“Sure thing! Now go survey the outpost.” Ainreth sat down again, folding his arms neatly in front of him. “Oh, and if you hear any juicy rumors, do let me know. Especially if it’s something about that Enrite guy. He responded to none of my flirting yesterday. I think he’s playing hard to get.”

Petre rubbed their eyes. “His name is Emryt, and I don’t think he likes men.”

Ainreth snorted, shaking his head. “What an idiot. Okay, never mind that, then. Off you go.”

Feeling like the more they talked to Ainreth the less they understood him, Petre left the tent, shaking their head. They could already have given Ainreth a list of the people usually causing problems, but either Ainreth would just tell them to take a look anyway, or he would assign them another, potentially more complicated task, so they were content to take it easy, perhaps take a walk around the outpost.

They could use some peace and quiet after the incident yesterday.

Though they immediately knew that wouldn’t be the case when they barely took a couple of steps, only to be stopped by Enlin who almost ran into them.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Petre! Hi!”

Petre winced at how loud she was being but decided not to comment. “Hello.”

“What did the general want?”

Her big eyes were sparkling so much, as if she was excited to find out about this more than anything in her life ever before. Petre truly wondered where she kept getting all this energy and good mood, especially given the cold weather. Then again, Enlin was always excited to see the first snow, so that probably played no part in anything.

“He asked me to report bullying in the regiment to him.”

Enlin’s eyes widened further, a delighted grin on her face immediately. “He did? That’s great! I’ve been trying to bring some of that up to him, but I don’t think he listened to a word I said.” Enlin pouted, hurt in her gaze. “And then one of the captains reprimanded me for bothering him.”

The fact that Enlin was so easily upset, even after two years in the army, was still something Petre didn’t understand. And neither did they understand the ease with which she showed her emotions. Most of the other soldiers were much less likely to share what they were feeling all the time.

“Ainreth is….” Petre paused, looking for the right word. “A little difficult. I don’t think it was personal, if that helps.”

Though Petre had been trying to make Enlin feel better, they immediately knew that was not what was going on when they saw Enlin gape at them almost comically.

“You call him by his first name like that?” She let out a very excited, very loud squeal. “Are you guys getting along? You must be, right?”

Petre wanted to explain to Enlin that the only reason they were calling the Daybreaker Ainreth was because the man was uncomfortable with anything else, but then they gave up on that thought. Enlin would probably just get upset about it. It was easier to simply not disagree.

“Sure.”

Enlin grinned even more at that. “Yes!”

She pulled Petre into a quick hug, which they let her do, knowing that there was no point in telling her to stop. She tended to do it automatically, and she would just feel guilty about it if Petre complained. Given that it wasn’t that annoying to them, they would just opt to let her.

“I knew you were getting along. Why else would the general do what he did to Hantyr?” she said as she pulled away, an almost smug smile on her face as though incredibly proud of herself. “What’s he like?”

“Ainreth? Um.” Petre wasn’t sure how to describe the man, even if they wanted to give up on being polite. There were a lot of things about Ainreth that didn’t seem to fit together. He was on the surface an arrogant idiot who seemed to only care about himself, but then he did seem to care about Petre to at least some extent, even if only because they were his lieutenant now. Then again, apparently, that wasn’t how Ainreth had acted to his other lieutenants either.

None of it made sense.

“He’s…a lot,” Petre said instead of attempting to describe Ainreth in any non-vague way. Perhaps they could attempt this later when they had a clearer image of the man, though so far, the image had just been getting more and more muddled.

Petre still had no idea how to process that his general was apparently writing an erotic novel. Petre wished they could say they hadn’t asked for this information, but they sort of had, so they only had themself to blame.

“Well, yeah, he’s legendary, of course he’s a lot.” Enlin laughed, putting her hands on her hips. That was not at all what Petre had meant, but they didn’t have the heart to correct her.

“I should probably get started on my assignment,” said Petre, sticking their cold fingers into their pockets. Not that they minded talking to Enlin, but if they continued standing out here like this, the bite in the air was going to soak into their bones. Petre needed to warm up.

“Oh, can I come with? I have some time off and nothing to do. Also, I’m better at talking to people.”

Petre couldn’t disagree, nor could they really find a reason not to let her tag along, so they gave a nod and a shrug. Knowing Enlin, she was going to handle all of the talking whether Petre asked her or not, leaving them with the task of making a list of names and their alleged wrongdoings against their fellow soldiers.

They went down the path leading from Ainreth’s tent to the main group of tents organized in a circle around the main hall. Petre wasn’t really sure where to start, but they had their pencil and a piece of parchment on a writing board ready, already noting down Clarith at the top of it, just to be petty. As usual, they had to squint hard to properly see what they were writing. Petre truly hoped their bad eyesight wouldn’t get worse with age. It was already bad enough.

“You know, I can do this, too, if you want,” Enlin offered, but Petre shook their head.

“No, it’s fine. I can do it.”

For some reason, the idea of letting Enlin write things down for them was like admitting defeat. Besides, they could still read, it wasn’t that bad. It was just annoying, and Petre could put up with that. They had years of experience.

Enlin seemed a little hesitant to drop the subject, but she did so anyway, only giving a small nod, which in her case was an incredibly subdued reaction. But Petre didn’t address it, not very eager to keep the topic going. Glasses were a luxury item, something that would cost twice the amount of their yearly wage. They were unobtainable even with the bonus they would receive from being Ainreth’s second-in-command.

They went from one tent to another, Enlin almost immediately outright asking if someone had been causing trouble, which usually prompted confusion before the person question finally either denied it, or hesitantly mentioned someone, most often Hantyr, after much encouragement from Enlin.

Petre wrote him down even though they doubted Hantyr would try anything again anytime soon. From the rumors that were going around, Hantyr had only now barely regained eyesight. It made Petre wonder how Ainreth had known that he hadn’t blinded Hantyr for good. The idea of this being known due to trial and error made Petre a little uncomfortable. Though the thought of Ainreth only guessing the blindness would only be temporary was certainly the worse option.

“So, how many we got?” Enlin asked once they’d spoken to more than half of their regiment. Petre looked at their list, counting the names they had written down so far.

“Five.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad,” Enlin said, though she didn’t sound very happy. Petre wondered if someone had been picking on her as well. They would have to ask later, both to make the list complete, and also because they wanted to know if Enlin was having difficulties.

They approached another tent, now being on the other side of the outpost from where Petre’s tent was. They hadn’t gone to this part of the outpost much so far, not having much reason to, and also not knowing many of the people here.

But even with that, Petre could immediately tell that the man and woman that were sitting in the next tent they visited were new because they’d never seen them before. Their regiment wasn’t small, but it was certainly small enough that when someone new came around, Petre could usually tell.

And with these two, there was something else, as well. Something was…off.

“Hi!” said Enlin, as cheerful as always while Petre narrowed their eyes at the pair. They immediately started paying attention to Enlin when she barged in, but Petre hadn’t missed the single second of them whispering where they were sitting opposite each other, pulling away at the disruption.

“Hello?” the woman asked, confused, with a slight edge to her tone. She certainly didn’t seem happy about this, and neither did the man, both scowling up at Petre and Enlin. Enlin didn’t seem to mind at all though, her cheerful attitude still very much present.

“What do you want?” asked the man, his voice clipped. Now it was Petre’s time to scowl. They didn’t like these people immediately.

“Oh, you must be new. I haven’t really seen you around before,” Enlin said, undeterred by how short they were being with her. “Did you get transferred? Or did you just join and were lucky enough to be assigned under our great general?”

The man and woman exchanged a somewhat nervous look. And now Petre was suspicious. Why would they feel nervous at being questioned?

“Yes, the Daybreaker. Fearsome, isn’t he?” the man muttered, as if saying those words at a normal volume would cause something terrible to happen. Petre couldn’t help but laugh, and neither could Enlin, letting out a snort.

“Fearsome?” she repeated, covering her mouth as she clearly did her best to hide her giggle. It wasn’t very successful. “Uh, I guess he can be. But he’s not really—”

“We’re conducting a survey concerning bullying in the regiment,” Petre cut in, not wanting to get derailed. They didn’t particularly want to talk to these people longer than necessary if they were going to be rude to Enlin. “Noticed any?”

The two once again exchanged a look before speaking in unison. “No.”

“Is that all?” asked the woman. Petre narrowed their eyes. None of the people they’d asked so far had acted this way, so eager to get them away.

“And what are your names?” Petre hadn’t been noting names down, mostly because they wanted to keep this anonymous, so none of the people reported could take revenge later. But they did want to find these two soldiers’ files later, find out where they had come from.

“Tarne and Perityr,” answered the man, which Petre wrote down. That didn’t ring a single bell, but perhaps they truly were just new. The fact that they thought Ainreth was fearsome would be proof of that because Ainreth was that only in theory.

“So you are new?”

“What business is that of yours?” the woman snapped, folding her arms over her chest. Petre truly wondered what was going on here.

“As the Daybreaker’s lieutenant, everything that happens here is my business,” they said before turning around and leaving. Thankfully, Enlin followed without a word, though her quizzical expression told Petre she was very curious about what had just happened.

“They’re hiding something,” Petre said, making Enlin look back at the tent they had just exited.

“You think so?”

Petre just nodded. They were positive. The question was what they were hiding, but hopefully, they’d admit to it themselves if given some time to ruminate. Petre was certain the two had figured out that Petre was onto them, and they had dropped their new title only to strike some fear into them. Hopefully, it would work.

It was time to move on to the soldiers they hadn’t spoken with yet.