"Green." Called a distant voice, but I didn't really care.

I was at peace. I felt whole. And I knew turning toward the voice would strip away that feeling.

The lush grass around me was more welcoming and comfortable than any bed I had ever laid in. The scent of flowers filled the air, but the smells stayed tantalizing to the nose, never collecting into a single overwhelming disjointed odor.

Overhead I heard the creaking and rustling of branches and leaves as the wind slowly shifted them.

I was at home.

"Green, wake up." The voice called out once more, and I distantly felt my foot be moved.

I needed to get up. I knew that. To respond to the voice, I just could not bring myself to move.

"Go, child," whispered the wind that brushed my cheek. Looking up, I faced the tree blocking out the sky with its golden leaves. A tree that was so wide that as I stood at its base, I could not tell if it was round. "you may always return."

A sad smile touched my lips. I knew it was true. After all, I had come here every night since returning to the Triad. But it did not take away the feeling of loss welling up inside of me. Of the growing sense that none of this was real and I could never return once I left.

Gathering my will, I turned away from the Ancestor, The Worldtree, and faced reality.

The moment the great tree left my sight, my eyes popped open.

I saw a blob looming above me, hands reaching for my neck. Snapping out with a punch on instinct, I drove my fist into the blurry figure's chest, making it stumble back.

"Gahh," grunted the figure.

Sweeping my legs to the side as I tried to spin to my feet, they got caught in the blanket, and I fell to my stomach.

Lifting up my head, I looked at the figure rubbing its chest across the room, making no move to attack me. Given a moment to think, my mind started to clear, and I realized I might have overreacted. A little bit.

"Good punch," Said a slightly strained but extremely familiar voice.

Rapidly blinking a few times and rubbing my eyes, the shadows of my room snapped into focus. Though it was still night, the tiny amount of light from the small window near the ceiling was more than enough for me to see clearly. So long as my mind and eyes weren't clouded by sleep.

"You know," Markus said in a hushed voice as he stood straight, "I had faith that you would be the one to break the trend of scouts attacking me when I wake them up in the middle of the night."

"Stop waking us up in the middle of the night?" I asked, hoping going back to sleep was an option. "And is it that common for you?" I couldn't remember ever being attacked while waking someone up, but I also hadn't done it that much.

"The heavy non-violent sleepers tend not to survive when something sneaks up on them in the forest. In the past, you were always fully awake before I got close, so I never learned which you were." He said with mild amusement before his voice turned serious. "I got your new gear." He said, gesturing to the side of the door as he moved toward it. "Get kitted and meet me outside. Don't wake anyone up."

Not making a single sound, Markus opened the door and slipped out of my room. Eyes moving to the side after a second of watching the closed door, I looked at the lumpy pile of cloth and sighed.

I sat looking at the equipment, blanket wrapped around my shoulders, trying to soak up the last remnants of safety and comfort this bed had to offer. And it was this bed, not my bed, because no bed was owned by an individual until one has slept at least one night in it. And that, as of now, was impossible, so it is not my bed!

While I had received my orders, until my feet hit the ground, I was still in the final fleeting seconds of comfort before officially embarking on a mission that I could feel in my bones would be long and grueling.

I could tell this from the pile of equipment that looked suspiciously like what I would take with me on a mission spanning weeks… We scouts were trained to pick up on these kinds of subtle clues.

Throwing off the blanket, I slid off the side of the bed. It would have been nice to get to know her rather than be forced out while I was halfway finished on the first night, but it was what it was.

Ignoring the cold prickling at the bottom of my feet and hands as I planted them against the solid objects which kept me standing during moments of unsteadiness, I carefully moved towards the door. Reaching the pile, I pulled the cloth covering the pile to the side.

"Shit," I hissed as I saw the equipment laid bare.

As I moved, I constructed a hopeful fantasy in my mind that I would find the uniform and gear of a Senatorial Guard. And that my mission would be to infiltrate their ranks to search for a spy threatening the stability of the Republic. But no~, it was plain old scout equipment.

Searching the backpack, I found clothes on the top and slipped into them before strapping on the weapons and other gear. That was, of course, after I dragged the objects to the bed. The dragging might have been done by me crawling over the ground, my left hand stretched out behind me, grabbing the cloak, a single wool sock half on my right foot.

But who's watching to say what really happened?

Standing at the door, I carefully adjusted my belt and backpack, settling their weight. Slowly, my hand reached up, grazing the clasp holding my cloak together. Three ash leaves, one layered on top of the next, their points making a ninety-degree angle.

A tree that permeated the outer edges of the Great Forest where I grew up.

I looked in the direction I knew was the southwest, in the direction of my childhood home. This wasn't just a guess, either.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The small compass on the inside of my forearm, along with the other three I checked over my weeks in the ward, told me it was the southwest.

There was a constant calling from that direction. Like the inviting smell of a bakery in the morning, tempting me to turn as I walked past. And I knew, at the core of my being, that should I enter, I would be welcomed like an old friend.

I longed to turn and start walking, damning everything else until I reached whatever was calling me.

Try as I might, I could not convince myself I was wrong. That I was feeling something that didn't exist.

I could not force myself to believe that the memories plaguing my mind of the different Dawn Trees I now remember encountering in my life were inaccurate. All figments of my imagination.

But I knew they weren't.

As clearly as I now knew I had a soul, I knew I had spoken with two branches of the Worldtree. One a matter of weeks ago and the other as a youth. In one of my childhood not-so-grand adventures into the forest, my friends and I stumbled across a second Dawn Tree. Well, that was actually the first, huh?

And yet, ultimately, the encounter didn't matter. By the time we returned to the village, the adventure had become nothing more than another trek through the forest as we faintly remembered spotting a few interesting trees.

But it did happen. I knew it was real.

And I was being called to the heart of the Great Forest. To take up a task and fix something that… had been festering for longer than I could imagine.

I wanted to go. I couldn't remember anything I had wanted more, but if it was so important. If the mental call was so strong that I could feel it thousands of miles away, then why the hell was it left unattended for so long?

Why was the mantel dropped in the first place if it was so important?

And most of all, why was I able to remember now? What did it mean?

So… So many questions. Questions that, if I could find any answers at all, would more than likely require me to leave the 15th Legion as I went off on a grand adventure into the heart of the Great Forest. And then what?

Assuming I survived the trip, which was by no means a guarantee, what would I be without the Legion?

I didn't have any other skills.

At best, I could be a village hunter like my father. Not a bad life, but it just didn't appeal to me. I wanted… more.

Not that any of this mattered. Because the Legion had been the bastion of my people for as long as anyone could remember. They sheltered us when mobs hunted us through the streets and gave us coin when no one else would imagine hiring an elf. The Legion kept my people alive.

And I would not abandon the 15th in what might be its greatest hour of need. My sense of duty, pounded into me by my father, would not allow it.

The Ancestor was asking for help, and I would answer the call. But what would it matter if I waited a few more years?

For all I know, I thought in wry amusement, I'll forget the moment I set out.

Squaring my shoulders, I gently pulled open the door before poking my head out. After a quick look up and down the hall to ensure no one was walking around outside of their rooms, I stepped out.

I didn't have a reason to hide what I was doing, but Markus seemed to be trying to keep whatever this was quiet.

Walking down the hallway, I made sure to be super stealthy as I scuffed my feet against the ground on nearly every step.

As I exited the barracks, Markus called, "over here." Looking to my right, I saw Markus standing in the gap between this barracks and the next. A red glow illuminated the bottom of his face.

Following the wafting smell of tobacco, I carefully made my way over to him.

"You know," I said when I arrived, looking at him smoking his pipe, "I hope the mission isn't anything more than walking across the street because I can barely do that. What time is it anyway?"

"Midnight," Markus said through puffs on his pipe, not saying a word to my smart-ass remark, instead gesturing down the street with his pipe. "Let's go."

Setting off at an easygoing walk, Markus enjoyed smoking his pipe while I staggered along behind him, trying to keep up.

It wasn't the weight of what I was carrying that was causing my problems. It was like I was carrying an overly large object. My center of balance was constantly being thrown off.

After a couple hours and a few scrapes on my knees and hands, we were walking up the stairs to the outer wall of the Triad on the other side of the fort.

Stepping onto the battlements, beads of sweat pooling on my face, I saw Markus leaning against the crenelations looking at the Northern Fort.

The dome surrounding the fort let off a glow of constantly shifting colors, causing the waters of the Twins to ripple like a kaleidoscope. The sight was pleasing to look at, but it still sent a shiver down my spine.

Markus twisted his upper body around to look at me as he smoked his latest pipe of tobacco, then gestured to my right with his head.

I turned and saw a lone figure leaning against the crenelations thirty feet away, their back to the Southern Fort. Continuing to look past them, my eyes swept down the length of the wall, and my brow wrinkled in concern. The battlements were suspiciously empty. The nearest person besides the lone figure was a hundred yards away. Whipping my gaze back at the figure, the skin on the back of my neck prickled in unease.

The figure turned to face me, and the shifting light of the dome licked across her form, revealing the purple strips running down her legs.

Instinctually, I moved to salute when a surprisingly soft but unyielding voice said, "None of that, now. Come over here, and let's have a talk."

Obeying one of the people with my life in their hands, I moved over to who I recognized as the Prefect of the 15th. It really wasn't that hard of a thing to figure out with the feminine voice and purple stripe.

As I settled in next to her, looking at the Northern Fort, she began to speak, "You have served the Legion well, Scout Green. And have more than proved your loyalty. But with the world we find ourselves in, I must ask you to open your mind as I ask you, are you loyal?"

Opening my mind didn't matter to me, as I hadn't gone through the effort of closing it. I felt a twinge in my head, and before I could gather my thoughts to form an answer, words began pouring out of my mouth, "Loyal to the Republic? It's better than the alternative. To the 15th Legion? For now." As I spoke, I could not find the emotions within myself to care about the consequences of being so honest.

My faith in the Legion had always been a given, something I had never questioned, but now I felt a seed of doubt. Why should I offer undying loyalty when I have never received it. I was still willing to die in service for the 15th Legion, but maybe not forever.

Pulled out of my thoughts as the Prefect started speaking again, I listened to her, a hint of something filling her voice, "That is fine. There are many that think the same." she paused, and I felt a pressure in my ears, and the sounds of the world stopped. "Now that we are alone, let me speak frankly. The Senatorial Guard has marched in with visions of grandeur dancing through their minds. And they have the authority to either make those visions a reality or create a colossal disaster for the Republic. The 15th will be roused for combat soon because a day south of here, there is a new bridge over the Rush. At some point between there and here, two more legions of the Senatorial Guard are quickly marching. There will be combat in the morning, if not before."

I took in the information for a second, my eyes flicking to the side of her face, and my stomach began to drop. "Why are you telling me this," I asked, hoping my thoughts were wrong, "I am no great tactical mind, and I can't even walk straight."

"Yes, I heard." She said in a dry voice, causing my face to flush, as she no doubt heard the sounds of my few mishaps on the stairs. "But you will hardly have to walk at all. As you have the best relationship with Chieftain Kanieta, all we have to do is get you across the river."

A fist gripped my heart, and my lip twisted as I stifled a beastly snarl of rage. “Fuck!" I said, filling the word with all my repressed emotions.