Some hours later Nyle had just finished compiling the gigantic pile of parchments and documentation that captain Greschill had so kindly assigned to him the moment they had stepped back inside his office. If he had to guess, that was the sort of present the captain had given him to show him how things could potentially turn out if he decided to talk. A sort of a soft warning, so to speak.

Pity, however, that the enormous discomfort and fatigue that was now gripping his mind were the only things that man had succeeded in gifting him. And for a good reason. From the moment he had sat down, those damned documents, which had to be filled out urgently before tomorrow, had been the only things his eyes had seen. And of course, out of all the slackers that infested that place, he just had to pick him, the one who busted his ass. He even went as far as taking away his only help, Avron, whom he had not seen since. Who knew where he was? Was he still in the same building? Did they assign him to the same monotonous jobs he had done in the past too? Most probably. But then again, it was captain Greschill’s decision. And that could mean a thousand different things that could end in a thousand more ways.

Failing to came up with a possible hypothesis that could have explained all of that, he got up from the armchair that had initially been a real bliss to sit in, but that had become a real pain as the hours went by.

Other people, who might have become accustomed to sitting down all day, might have found that a bliss. But to Nyle, that had been a literally torture. He was a man of action, of doing things out of his own hand. He could never understand how those people could find paperwork doable, let alone enjoyable. To his own opinion, they must have had some screw loose up in their hand. But, maybe that could also be said about him. He supposed that, in reverse, he would have thought the same way as them.

He smirked.

No way that could ever happen. That was just not how he was. Paperwork was something that he always detested, and that he would never tolerate even if his life depended on it. And the captain knew that. That damned son of a bi-

The sound of steps, light and hurried, made him stop his thinking. A few seconds later, the same man that had been at the center of some of his questions made his appearance. Well, it seemed that he hadn’t need worry after all.

“Hmmmm.” mumbled Avron as he stretched his limbs. “I’m beat.”

Nyle raised his eyebrows. “Good evening to you too.”

“Ah. You’re right Nyle. Sorry about that. It’s just tha-” another yawn escaped him. “Damn. It’s just I’m so tired -wait- maybe not tired. Bored. Yes, bored. I’m so bored that I feel completely drained of my energies. I never knew the archivist job could be so…well, tiring.”

“I guess that answer my question, then.”

“Wait. What question? Did I miss something?”

“No.” he said, shaking his head back and forth. “Anyway, I see we both need some coffee. And a strong one at that. C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Wait! Where? What is-”

Nyle turned around, grabbed his pristine black coat, and put it on in a single, swift motion, interrupting him. Then, as he looked at him straight in the eyes, he answered as it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Downstair.”

//////

The small room inside the station that had been adhibited as a sort of rest room was bustling with life. Well, sort of. Every single person, no one excluded, was there for a single purpose: to somehow find the energies necessaries to reach the end of their respective turns. Most time it was easier said than done.

There were those who were gulping down the food that they had brought from home, savouring each and every bite like it was the last they were ever going to take. For the less fortunate though, they had to make do with the premade meals the Imperium allocated every week to each and every station around the territory. Fortunately, Nyle wasn’t hungry. And, even if he had been, he would have dined in a restaurant, or tavern, or even a street food cart. Anything was better, in his honest opinion, than those meals.

It was not like he had a refined taste that would have never allowed him to eat something that was only barely edible. That wasn’t the case. The problem lied in his past experiences.

Back when he had been little more than a recruit like Avron, and the salary wasn’t certainly huge, many times he had found himself corned; so the only option had been to take advantage of those free meals that the station provided. Sure, they tasted beyond bad. But it was either that, he had to starve until next pay check.

It was obviously no surprise that, even now that he could make do without that, just the thought of tasting that tasteless poultice was enough to make him almost throw up everything he had eaten. Anything was batter that going back to that feeding torture. Anything.

Surely enough, the moment they stepped inside, that unmistakably odor, which no one knew how, but which only those meals were able to give off, hit him right in the face like a well-aimed fist. It was only thanks to his own will power that he was able to stop the gag from making him spill his lunch on the wooden floor.

“Ughhh…” groaned Nyle. He covered his nose with his right hand in the desperate attempt to block out that damned odor. A futile attempt, however. His face, after all, clearly showed it.

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Damn it all.

“…Is everything alright?” asked Avron confused. “Why are you making that face?”

“I should be asking you that.” said Nyle. “Can’t you smell this…disgusting- ugh- don’t make me concentrate on that.”

“Honestly, it’s not that bad.” said Avron after inhaling a deep breath. “Can’t say I find it pleasant. But I don’t think it’s such a horrible smell as you’re making it out to be.”

Nyle stared at him with a mix of emotions that range from sheer shock to utter disbelief. It wasn’t that bad? If he asked anyone, he meant literally anyone, in that building who had tried that delicacy at least once how it smelled, he was sure how they would answer. “…Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“…Honestly, I think you’re lying. Anyone who was unfortunate enough to eat that, would never say something so…unreal.”

“I have never eaten…whatever that is.” he said as he pointed his index finger towards the nearest man, who was guzzling down the plate in front him like his life depended on it. Not because he liked that. No. That was just a strategy. A strategy that Nyle knew all too well. “But I don’t think that-”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” interrupted Nyle. “There’s no way in hell you would say that if you had ever tried it before. It’s so bad that it smells like death to us. Not to mention the taste! That is som-”

Nyle stopped. If he kept on talking about that, he was sure he was really going to get sick. “L-let’s just take our coffee. I don’t want to stay here a second longer that strictly necessary.”

Having reached a point of no return, Nyle walked towards the other side of the room, right towards the small wooden table near the window. Right over it, exactly in the middle, there was the giant bowl of coffee that all the men and women used daily. A silent curse silently left him. It was practically empty. Those bastards had forgotten once again to refill it with new one. Why in the hell the always forgot about it? Was it that much of a difficult task?

An apology reached his ears as he rummaged through the nearby cabinet to retrieve the coffee powder they stored in metal canisters. “Ah, yes. Sorry about that. We’ve have forgotten to refill it.”

Nyle didn’t even turn around to know who it was. “Screw you and your partner.”

“Hey! There’ no need to act like that for something so-”

“No need?!” Nyle slammed the canister with such force that the lid flew off. “Dammit, how many times have I said to keep the bowl full? Ten? Fifty? A hundred?”

“Still, we’ve just-”

“No. Fuck that. I’m tired of your excuses. You either learn to make it the moment it runs out, or I’ll smash everything to the ground.”

As silence fell on the whole room, Nyle went outside, set up a quick water arcanism inside a bucket he found nearby to create some water, and waited for it to fill. The crystal-clear liquid looked so mesmerizing that even his nerves were slowly starting to calm do-

“I didn’t know you could use arcanism…” said Avron, who was standing right beside him. The look of surprise and disbelief was something that Nyle found almost insulting. Sure, he wasn’t the best arcanist in the world. Not by a far, reeealy far margin. But that simple display was nothing complicated.

“…It’s not-”

“You’ve never told me.” he interrupted.

“Why should I have? It’s nothing amazing. Anyone, even a child, can use such simple diagrams after all. Not to mention it’s water arcanism, the safest of them all. It’s literally the first type ever though.”

“Well, yes. But since I have never seen you use it before I just thought-”

“What?” Nyle turned around to look at him the moment the blueish light that was coming from the magical diagram began to dissipate. “That I couldn’t use it?”

A frown appeared on his face. “Surely your joking.”

“…Why?” he asked truly curious. “It is my understanding that people who can’t aren’t that unique.”

“…How much do you know about arcanism as a whole?” he asked flatly. He wasn’t really looking forward to explaining all of that, but since the opportunity had arrived, he might as well be done with it now than bother at a later time.

“A good deal.” he replied confidently.

“Then I guess you’re aware that those people, the ones called Warded, are way rarer than you’re making them out to be. Not much is known about them, expect they somehow are cut off from the energies that surround us.”

“I know that much. But I still don’t think they’re that rare. I mean, I’m sure we could find some if we simply ask around. Not to mention the statistic you’re basing your reasoning is made public by research that was only conducted on humans. We cannot take that for good.”

Nyle looked at him suspiciously. “How would you know that? I have not said anything about any research.”

“Oh…I…I gues-.”

“Never mind.” said Nyle. He didn’t know what Avron was going to say, but he was damn sure he was going to lie. It was evident on his face he was going to.

Then, as he the arcane diagram completely disappeared, having filled the bucket to the brim with crystal clear water, Nyle nodded to himself for a job well done. It seemed he had calculated perfectly the time to set it up.

“…Well, look at that.” suddenly remarked Avron, who had regained his composure. “It seems you’re not only capable, but you’re also good at that.”

“For something small and utterly simple as this, the real arcanists would kill you if they heard you say that. It’s just basic diagrams and correct placing of runes.”

Avron smiled. “I’m sure they will. But still, to correctly time the duration of it with such painstaking accuracy…most impressive, Nyle.”

Nyle smirked as he rolled his eyes. He didn’t know if he was seriously complimenting him or if it was all a joke. He was half tempted to directly ask him, but quickly decide to leave it. After all, coffee held, and will always hold, a much important priority than mere chatter.

Taking the basket back where he found it, Nyle washed the pitcher, throwing the residue inside small potted plant that was right beside the table. Judging by the leaves, that used to be vibrant green, but now looked completely worn out and discoloured, it seemed that very few people even bothered to keep it well hydrated. He shook his head without uttering a single word. If he did, he was sure as hell going to verbally lash out at them badly. And after the last rant, he really didn’t feel like it.

Instead, Nyle just grabbed the necessary instruments and quickly set it all up. A delicious coffee smell, similar to the one Athiel made, but at the same time completely different, made its way inside the station as the metal pan slowly heated the deep black liquid it had inside its steely embrace. Still, it took more time than normal.

The fire arcanism inscribed on the beat-up stone he was using was far from perfect; soon, maybe even sooner than he thought, that arcane tool would became unusable. Not a huge problem. He, or any one that worked in that station, could just compile the necessary form to request a replacement directly at the Main Quarters. Nothing difficult, right?

He sighed. That was impossible. The cost of those things wasn’t exorbitant, not in the least. But with the war going on, the murder that had just happened, and all the tension in between, the Civil Order would not even bother reading something so unimportant as that. It seemed that Ol Betsy, the old iron stove that had been replaced some years ago, was going to make a came back.

But none of that mattered now. The black liquid in front of him was ready, so he quickly filtered it, trying his best to reign the anticipation he was feeling inside.

The moment his lips finally touched what he had so painstakingly just brewed, a content sigh escaped him. Sure, he still felt angry, tired, and every emotion in between. But at least for now, he had his daily dose of caffeine in his hand. And in that moment, it was all that mattered.