>>6118526>>6118527Zivka stumbles from the dark after a long ranging patrol. Eight eyes turn to take her in. In one considered observation, they mark her stance, her posture, her weaponry, her animals, her uniform. Hands hover near hilts of shortblades. None speak.
And then one of the sharp looking legio slowly lifts her gauntled hand off of her weapon and dips her head at the fire. All wanderers who meet at night around an open flame should be friends, or so it is said. Zivka looks like she has a story to tell - and she does! She uses the opportunity to, while story telling, tell them about the battle, and windsworn, and the Operative who hired a horde of bandits to maraud, murder and kidnap a mercenary salvage team for reasons I still have no idea on.
She's tracking them right now.
And dead men lurk in the riverbeds, slowly fed to ants for scuttle them out of the way.
The sharp-faced legio say surprisingly little. Zivka gets the impression that this is all a tactic, to offer her space to fill the night with her own words. Many things they may be, but lawmen they are also. Sometimes, those who have been the victims of a crime need silence to fill the air with their own warm words. They ask a few questions - how many? how long? What tools? What colours? What stripe of ribbon? Swordmasks? Any dustspeakers in attendance? And Zivka answers as best she can, though some of their terms are unusual. Perhaps the Legion postings out here often deal with marauding bandits. Stands to reason they must have some experience in the matter.
And as Zivka's story runs low and out and her tale is done, the seeming leader of the little band offers her a fresh water skin. One of them has thrown the scraghound a little morsel. Scratched its ear, ruffled its fur with a fond smile. And the hot warm spice meat is filling, and both hound and woman appreciate the succour of the fire.
In a gentle voice, one of the Legio eventually offers that this is not alltogether an unbelievable tale. They had heard about mercenary salvage teams plying this region, and though the practice is frowned upon (she holds up her hands here, easy, easy, she means no ill) it is neither illegal nor illicit, simply dangerous. There have been more Windsworn in this region lately. Outlying smallholding villages have sent complaints. The Kalcmiri Government has requested further patrols. But most curious of all is this woman she speaks of, describes. Some Operative? Of Pytherii appearance and with the accent of a high House?
The Legio look to each other and a few quiet questions pass between them, hard to decipher outside the soft understanding of their espirit d'corps. Zivka realises these troops have served together long. They trust each other. There is an understanding there.
Now there's a curiousity . . .
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