The soft glow of dawn crept through the kitchen window as Ean and his father sat at the worn wooden table. Steam curled from their mugs, filling the air with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Ean's father leaned forward, his weathered hands wrapped around his cup.

"So, tell me about this surveyor business of yours," he said, his voice low to avoid waking Ean's mother. "What's the purpose behind it all?"

Ean took a sip of his coffee, gathering his thoughts. "It's part of the reason I'm a Game Warden," he explained, reaching into his satchel. "It was my idea to catalog natural resources. That way we could identify any shortages early." He pulled out a form and slid it across the table. "This is what we're asking people to fill out."

His father picked up the paper, squinting as he scanned its contents. His forehead wrinkled he reached the bottom. "Unusual activities?" he read aloud, glancing up at Ean. "What's that about? And what do you do in the city when you're not... warden-ing?"

Ean's heart quickened. He hadn't prepared for this line of questioning. "Well," he began, choosing his words carefully, "there have been... rumors. Of war." He watched his father's face closely. "The box is there in case someone sees something that might spark new rumors or confirm old ones."

A heavy silence fell between them. Ean's father set down the form, his expression grave. "War," he repeated, the word hanging in the air like a storm cloud. "I'd hoped you'd never have to experience that."

Curiosity gnawed at Ean. "Dad," he said softly, "what do you remember? From the last war?"

His father's eyes grew distant, focused on something beyond the kitchen walls. "Your Uncle Jim," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "he was conscripted. Smartest guy I knew. Ambitious, like you. Had big dreams." He paused, taking a long drink of coffee. "Two years of war changed him. The man who came back... he wasn't the same Jim we'd known."

Ean leaned forward, hanging on every word. His father continued, "If you can do anything to prevent war, Ean, give it your all. Nobody wins. Both sides lost some of their best young men in the last one. Brindle's poorer and are reliant on us for food. We had to rebuild most of Riverside by paying more taxes."

His father reached across the table, clasping Ean's hand. "I'm glad you're a game warden, son," he said, a sad smile on his face. "At least your mother won't have to worry about you being in danger." They sat in silence until his mother woke up.

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The enjoyed a warm family breakfast. With the rain still falling steadily, Ean and his parents set out to recruit locals for the surveys. The persistent downpour forced them to go door-to-door instead of meeting people in the fields or at a community gathering, making the process time-consuming and less effective.

At each house, Ean explained his mission, with his father adding credibility to his words. Some were skeptical, others intrigued, but the weather dampened enthusiasm across the board.

"Everyone is antsy about their crops," Ean's father explained as they trudged between houses. "You know how important these handful of weeks are for a good harvest. They're more worried about their farms than filling out surveys."

By midday, they had managed to secure a few willing participants, far fewer than Ean had hoped for. As they returned home, his mother prepared a warm lunch to chase away the chill.

"You've done what you can, son," his father reassured him. "I'll keep spreading the word once the weather clears. And remember, Uncle Jim will talk it up too."

Ean nodded, grateful for their support but frustrated by the setbacks. As he prepared to leave, the internal conflict he'd been battling intensified. He longed to share the full truth with his parents. Deceiving them felt wrong, but he knew that every secret shared was a potential danger to them.

"Thank you both," he said, embracing each of them tightly. "I can't express how much your help means to me."

His mother cupped his face in her hands. "Just be careful out there, Ean. Whatever your real job is, promise me you'll stay safe."

Ean's throat tightened. "I promise, Mother. I'll do my best."

As Ean mounted his horse to leave, the rain seemed to intensify, as if nature itself was reluctant to let him go. He waved a final goodbye and set off, his heart heavy with unspoken truths.

The return journey proved a greater challenge than his arrival. The persistent rain had caused a small stream to swell, blocking Ean's direct route back to Argonia Central. He was forced to find an alternative, less trodden path, adding time and danger to his journey.

The detour took him through unfamiliar territory, the muddy ground threatening to mire his horse with each step. Twice, Ean had to dismount and lead the animal through particularly treacherous patches, the cold rain seeping through his clothes and chilling him to the bone.

As the city gates of Argonia Central finally came into view, Ean was exhausted, mud-covered, and soaked to the skin. Argonia Central had only received a smattering of rain and the roads were barely wet. His disheveled appearance drew constant looks and hushed comments from passersby.

"Rough journey, eh?" one guard remarked, eyeing Ean with curiosity.

"You have no idea," Ean replied, producing his travel pass with mud-caked fingers.

As he made his way through the city streets, Ean's mind raced with all he had learned and experienced. The challenges posed by the weather had made his mission more difficult, but they had also taught him valuable lessons about adaptability and perseverance. Skills that would serve him well in his role as a spymaster.

With a mix of relief and anticipation, he returned the horse to the royal stables. Still damp and mud-covered, Ean walked to the bookshop, eager to take a warm bath and change into dry clothes.