I.

Am.

Bord.

Forced bed rest, and not so forced because I might have fallen a few times trying to get out of bed and needed help to get back into it, is getting fucking exhausting because I can never really rest. And the annoyance at my not-so-comfy bed was ever building inside of me.

There is only so much a person can read while sitting in bed before one wants to get up and just go for a walk. With my inability to get up and walk around, the mental weight of wanting to do anything other than reading was only increasing.

The first week sitting in the medico ward was… okay. I was still in a building with the sole purpose of resisting death until it inevitably clams us all — and the screams and groans of those wounded in the battle haunted the day and night — but I wasn't alone.

The beds were overflowing with the wounded, and I could take comfort that the others were forced to stay there like me. I could even talk with Tirre, the lucky bastard, for the first week.

Then he and everyone else but me got well enough to get up and leave.

There were still those who popped up in the ward as they rested and recovered for a day, but usually, they were too embarrassed to talk about the stupid stunt they performed to get wounded.

And I didn't really wanna explain why I was still there… Surrounded by books.

On one side of my bed was a pile of assorted books that one of the medico assistants brought me to read from the fort's library. Having been around so long and being a training ground, the Triad actually had an extensive library… for a legion. As in, you could find one or two books that were meant to be read for pure enjoyment.

And it wasn't the new books that are made in which the contents were stamped into the pages and had thousands of identical copies floating around. There were books hundreds of years old shoved into the corners of those shelves.

The thing was, it was still a legion library, so the focus of the texts was definitely in a single direction. Most were focused on casting — which I have read — with historical books on battles — which I have also read — taking up the majority of the other section of the library. There were also some philosophical books by famous people scattered around.

It showed how bored I was that I was currently studying a philosophical book.

I like history books. There is much you can learn from the past. So I am used to suffering through the arid deserts scholars call their writings. Their writing could be challenging, but at least historians had the decency to stick to a single belief and not justify their simultaneous — yet contradicting — perspectives like philosophers.

Luckily, I wasn't actually reading the book. Not after the first time.

Sitting on the nightstand, the other side of me, was another pile of books. All of which were the same book. They were scribed at different times, and some of them were copies of older books, not direct copies of the original, but they held basically the same content.

When the first cart load of books was brought to me, I thanked the steward and then skimmed the pile. Within the cart, I found two books I hadn't already read. One, really, as they were the same book.

Reading the text, the most intriguing thing I found was… a dot.

More of a smear, really. Towards the end of the book, where the next line should be, was what looked like the author wrote a word and then scribbled it out.

After finishing it and flipping through the other books, I looked at the copy of the same book to see if there was a difference in the story. Because I found that sometimes different authors give an interesting perspective on the same subjects, even if they were only supposed to copy the writing.

I found the same smear in the same spot.

Showing how board I was over the passing days, I asked the different ward stewards as they came on shift, getting them to fetch me the same book.

The new versions, those using the press method of producing books, did not have the smear, but all the older ones did. After days of work, I had… nothing.

Only a mystery without any answer. Well, now what will I do?

"Hi, instructor!" Called Sathera, bubbly joy and enthusiasm spilling off her.

Perfect! I thought, tossing my distraction to the side and forgetting about it. I hadn't had an actual conversation in days.

I looked at her, taking in her sunken dark-rimmed eyes and the general level of exhaustion hanging around her and Bellous, who was walking a step behind her. Eyes locking on their cloaks' clasp, a fist clamped my heart, but I was able to speak normally past it, "Congratulations, scouts."

There is no way they had the same level of training as I did. I had six months, and this was… four weeks? Five since the attack?

But then again, the training could be rushed. Besides learning a couple of casting techniques, most of the scout training program was being pushed to your limits to see if you would break. And then lots of practice to ingrain the techniques to move over the land unnoticed.

There is no greater motivator to learn how to be stealthy than an actual enemy hunting you. And after what they went through… I don't believe anyone could break them.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"And call me Green," I said, "I'm not your instructor anymore…" And you'll soon outrank me. I thought, filled with a flash of resentment.

Blinking in surprise, I looked across the room to the far wall engraved with twisting vines, my brow furrowed. Where did that come from?

It had just popped into my mind without warning. Now that I think about it, there were a lot of things like that happening to me recently…

"Ahh, yeah…" Sathera said, her face twisting as if she tasted something unpleasant, "Green." She said hesitantly.

Opening my mouth to ask them why they had visited, Sathera burst out, saying, "Green, GReen, greeN, GREEN, grEEn, Green!"

Blinking at her, I coherently stated, “Uhhhh… What?"

"She did the same thing to me when I first met her," Bellous said in amusement.

"It helps me remember names," She said defensively. “But… it might not work with you."

The last part was whispered, but my sharp hearing picked it up. "What? Can't remember my name? Don't my ears resemble leaves close enough to think of green?"

Sathera's mouth hung open for a second before her face flushed, and Bellous started snickering behind her. "No!" She shouted emphatically before becoming even more flustered. After a moment, she stammered, "It's just that… well, you didn't teach us long. But— you're Instructor Green!"

I smiled fondly at her, waving off her embarrassment, "No, no, I understand. But give it some time. Once we start working together, you won't see me as an Instructor."

She nodded, her face still flushed slightly, but I could tell she didn't believe my words. That was alright. She would in time.

"I really," I looked around the empty room of beds. I kind of wanted them to be filled, but then I would want my brothers and sisters in arms to be harmed. Which didn't appeal to me. "Really, appreciate having someone to talk to. But don't you have better things to do?"

"Nope," Sathera chirped, throwing off any embarrassment she felt a moment before like she was throwing off burning clothes. "Not until tomorrow," she added.

I raised my eyebrow in a silent question, and Bellous spoke up, "We finished the minimum for Centurion Markus to sign off on making us scouts, but he won't send us out on our own until we have more experience. We are heading out along the Twins on patrol in the morning."

Nodding in understanding, I looked at them again. While most scouts get "thrown into the fire" immediately after graduating as a write of passage, it wasn't unheard of for new scouts to shadow older ones. Shit, throwing them into the fire was more of a hazing than anything else.

The older scouts mirrored them, trying to spook them into thinking beastkins were around without being noticed. The really skilled scouts would try and get the new ones to release a pulse of contact or fire off a weapon into the forest.

Even with the teasing, the scouting does gauge how much chaperoning the new scout needs.

That was for regular scouts.

A scout with a rushed program in no way had the techniques beaten into their bodies to the point of being called proficient. They needed time and missions to practice on. Going down the river would do just fine.

And it would be far better than their first mission, where three-fourths of them were killed… Some teacher I am.

"Hemm!" Bellous cleared his throat as he looked a little uncomfortable. Oh, shit. Must have let my emotions show.

"After what happened…" I said, their bodies freezing as I spoke, "You two will make great scouts." I genuinely meant what I said, letting my emotions leak, and from who they both shuffled in place from embarrassment.

“…What about Kathren and the others?" I asked after a few seconds of the silence pressing down. "I heard she was alive, but… no one really knows much around here," I said with a shrug.

Sathera's face flashed with sadness, "Ohh, I'm so sorry. You have been here this whole time with no news."

"Not no news," I said, looking around, "If there is ever a battle, I'll hear. No news is good news within this building."

“Yeah… I guess it is," Sathera said with a forlorn look as she looked around.

"Anyway, tell me what's new. Starving for information here." I said, scooting up on my bed and motioning to the side. I paused as the chair I pointed to had a pile of books on it.

"I got it," Sathera said, and before I could move, the books lifted and lowered to the ground.

As she settled down, Bellous gabbed another chair bringing it over. "Kathren and the others are fine," Sathera said first thing. "They got a little banged up from the battle, but nothing a quick visit to the medicos and some rest couldn't fix."

"How did they get hurt?" I asked, confused. As scout trainees, they shouldn't have been anywhere near the fighting.

"You don— Of course, you don't," Sathera said with a shake of the head, "They were positioned at the Middle Fort during the attack. Even the militia was called up, and we are veterans." My mouth formed a silent oh in understanding. "From what they said, it got wild up there. Nothing like what happened to us, though." She said with more than a hint of pride.

"I doubt anyone will ever be able to top that story," I agreed, satisfaction filling me as well. I might not have been awake the whole time, but I damn well played a part.

"As for the Triad as a whole, not much has changed. The Legatus sent a delegation to talk to the beastkin, but little is known about what happened. It's been pretty hush-hush. We have patrols ranging along the Rush and Twins, which the beastkins are mirroring with their own bands. We know they are occupying the Cradle… Oh, and we got a report that Basetown is being pressed by… normal? beastkin."

"The mindlessly savage kind?" she nodded in response. "So no help is coming from there," I stated, and no one disagreed.

"Without reinforcements, I…" She stopped and looked around the empty room before leaning forward and speaking softly, as if someone would overhear, "I don't think anyone would follow the order to attack. We lost a third of our legion — and it was only that low because the beastkin returned so many prisoners — and most of those losses are veterans. The rest of our legion is comprised of those still in their first term of service. And the militia and fish faired far worse, as their forces lost half of their combined numbers. No one believes we can take back the rest of the fort."

She sat back, looking like she had done something wrong. “…You're right." I said after a moment.

Sathera and Bellious blinked in surprise, startled that I would agree. "We saw what they can do when attacking; what about defending? If we attack and fail, probably suffering heavy losses, they will just take the whole fort. No, the legat won't risk opening up all of the Republic to attacks. We are on the defense until help comes. What really matters is what the beastkins actually want."

They nodded in agreement, and we sat silently and contemplated the future.

Finally, Sathera broke the silence, and we started to talk about light-hearted subjects.

When they were getting up to leave, Bellious finally asked, and I wondered if he would, as he had been eyeing it for the last hour, "Why do you have ten copies of the same book?"

"Haha," I let out a bark of a laugh, "took you long enough to ask. Okay", I said placatingly, as his face started to turn red as if I was playing a joke on him. "I had nothing else to do," I said in my defense, "and in every old copy of this book, I found the same spo—

My head snapped up at the same time as theirs.

A pulse had washed over us, signaling a legion to the south. The legions south of us are… Ancestor protect us. I thought as the blood drained from my face. Politics have come to the Triad.