>>5693393>“Enough. I’ve already said it once. We aren’t thieves. We don’t go stealing from peasants just because we can. Once the others are in a decent enough shape to march through their injuries, we can leave this place behind and march down south.”Caleb groans. “I suppose we have enough enemies as is. No need to go making any more.” You’re treated to a squelching sound as he plants his carving knife into the flesh of one of the captured rabbits. His face says it all concerning his enthusiasm. “Say, what do you think pegasus tastes like?”
>“I’ll eat you before we eat Beathan.”“Fair enough.”
That night, the company “enjoys” a rather meager meal of water, vegetables, and the small game brought back by Ashe and the others. Milly, who has doubled as something close to the Blackwings’ cook, does her best to try and make things as appetizing as possible. Still, there’s a limit to what miracles she’s capable of performing with such scarce supply. As night begins drawing near, Milly distributes straws to most of the mercenaries present, including yourself. The ones who draw the shortest are to be those chosen for that night’s sentry duty. Conand Tower was defendable, but not if you were caught unaware. Despite Corrine’s protests, you entered the lot. You’d once read long ago at Garreg Mach that in times of hardship, commanders could limit a drop in their army’s morale by foregoing preferential treatment and “suffering” alongside them. That was why you went fishing for food, and that was why you were now entering the lottery for guard duty. So long as you weren’t picked, you wouldn’t have to worry about-
“Ahh…you got the short one, Blair. Bummer…” Milly hands you your straw with a frown.
Three other mercenaries, including Diana, are also chosen for that night’s guard duty. Dressing as warmly as you can muster, you try your best to mentally prepare yourself for several hours of what is sure to be a boring watch in the freezing cold.
Night falls, and you find yourself leaning back against one of the tower’s walls. A small, lit brazier is the only thing you and Diana have for warmth and light out here. Standing on opposite ends of it, you stare at Diana’s illuminated face, which in turn is staring down at the fire. Ingrid’s dark mood was one thing to deal with. She was a relative stranger to the company, after all, and it’s not as if she had ever been known for her bubbly personality. Diana was an entirely different matter. She’d always been considered the more “cheerful” member of the Blackwings. Though not the brightest, she’d always been a warm and friendly face. An orphan raised by Serena, your former pegasus instructor, the company was the closest thing she’d had to a family. She’d considered you and Shelley to be like her sisters. It only made sense she’d fallen into depression following the latter’s death.
