Chapter Text
For the third night in a row Asher woke in his bunk to the recruit above him thrashing and mumbling. For the third night in a row, the thrashing stopped when the soldier woke himself but this time with a cry instead of the gasp Asher had expected. The recruit had moved into Asher’s dorm when the dorm where he had been staying had been found to have pests. The soldiers had all been relocated temporarily.
Poor guy. Asher understood nightmares. Stars knew he had had nightmares a plenty after his run-in with mercenaries in the War of Ice and Snow. But the frequency of the nightmares for his bunkmate was off the charts. One of these days he’s going to end up rolling off the bed.
After a moment, the breathing above him evened out. Tirun may not have returned to sleep, but at least he was calmer. Asher rolled onto his side and slept once again.
As usual, when Asher woke, Tirun was already gone. How early does he get up? And where does he go? His bunkmate was a mystery—one Asher intended to unravel. The kid seemed too young for this. Too young to be a guard, too young to have such terrible, consistent nightmares. So what had happened to scar him so badly, and how had he ended up here?
Asher dressed, strapped on his sword belt, and checked himself in the mirror before heading to the dining hall for breakfast. It was overly crowded. It only took him a moment to see why. Princess Rakel was holding court at the table at the front of the room. Prince Farrin stood behind her, looking vigilant, and to Asher’s eyes, rather fierce. But then, the former Chosen colonel always seemed to look ready to take on anyone he viewed to be a threat to the Princess.
He sighed. He knew the mages enjoyed getting to talk to the princess, but all it meant for him was that it would be hard to find a seat in the crowded building. He grabbed a tray, accepted the food the servers offered, grabbed a mug of milk— cow’s milk, a luxury he had rarely had at home—and set about his impossible task. He might have to try to eat standing up. He’d done it before, but it never ended well. I’ll definitely end up with something on my uniform if I do that.
As he wandered, he heard his name. “Asher!”
He turned to see Tirun.
“Come sit here. Diune’s done. He’s leaving.”
He took a step toward the offered seat, then froze. At the entire table sat Sunshiners. He recognized the uniforms they wore. Escaped gladiators, all of them. He had always done his best to avoid the fearsome mages with murderous pasts. What was Tirun doing with them? Surely he knew who it was that surrounded him?
Warily he stepped to the table. One man, Diune, he guessed, stood and took his tray. “There. A seat.”
Asher nodded his thanks and set down the tray before squeezing onto the crowded bench. Tirun said, “This is Asher. He’s my bunkmate in the temporary dorms. Asher, this is Woqhine, Brin, Kellen—“
The one Tirun had called Brin said, “Give it up, Grunt. He’s not going to remember all of our names. We’re the Sunshine Column, but from your expression, I’m guessing you already knew that.”
Asher cleared his throat and tried to speak normally. “Hello.” He met the gaze of this Brin, carefully matching the name with the face for future reference. He got the distinct feeling that if someone here was going to pick a fight, it would be this man. He didn’t know yet whether that meant he should avoid giving offense or have ammunition to turn his attention away from another victim.
“C’mon men, there’s people waiting for this table,” Woqhine said. His uniform designated him as their captain, and Asher made a note to remember his name as well. The Sunshiners rose en masse.
Tirun waved. “I’m going to stick around a few minutes with Asher.” The kid was daft. He had to be, to be so familiar with these deadly warriors.
“Fine. See ya later, Grunt.” Woqhine said before slapping Tirun in the back of the head and moving off. Asher bristled slightly, but made no comment. He didn’t like bullies, especially when they picked on someone as undeserving as this kid.
“Grunt?” Asher asked. He was trying to make it sound curious, but even he heard the slight edge to his voice.
Tirun shrugged. “It’s the term for a brand new gladiator, fresh out of training.”
He blinked in surprise. “Gladiator? You? But I thought all the gladiators worked together.” Tirun couldn’t be a gladiator. He was just a kid, and in the guard besides! Or had he somehow been adopted as an honorary member of the group? But the boy didn’t correct him.
“Most do, but we don’t have to. I chose the guard.”
“Why?” To get away from the other gladiators? But no, he wouldn’t so cheerfully sit and talk with them if that were it.
“I vowed my life to Princess Rakel. I will protect her to the best of my ability, whatever it takes. But I need to finish training first.” Well, that wasn’t helpful. Or was it? Tirun wanted to be in the guard, but he wanted to keep his old friends?
“So when you disappear every morning, you’re going to see them?”
“Ha! More like getting run into the ground. I do calisthenics with them. I wouldn’t, but Prince Farrin requires it.”
“Why?”
“Because he is fanatical about the training for Princess Rakel’s guard. I have to do the typical guard training plus the calisthenics in the morning and additional training Prince Farrin requires in the afternoons.” He huffed.
Asher shook his head. “That sounds awful.” It was more than he ever wanted to do, that was for sure.
“Eh, I’ve dealt with worse. And this time it’s my choice.”
Just then, a soldier Asher didn’t know approached the table and tapped Tirun on the shoulder. “Excuse me, Private. Prince Farrin is requesting that you come speak to him.”
Tirun nodded and rose, and his whole self-presentation seemed to change before Asher’s eyes. A moment ago he’d been the kid in the bunk above Asher. Now he was a soldier, serious and potentially deadly. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, Asher.”
“I’m leaving too. Thanks for sitting with me.”
Asher headed for the plate return, but his nosiness caused him to watch as Tirun approached the royals and bowed formally to them. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”
The prince spoke to the younger man, but never took his eyes from the room around them. “Please tell Woqhine that I’m still planning to train with the Sunshiners today, but it will be later than originally planned. Probably not until after lunch.”
Tirun bowed again. “Yes, Your Highness. I’ll go right now.”
The prince nodded. “You’re dismissed.”
“Thank you, Sir.” He bowed to the princess who had turned her gaze to him. “Good morning, Princess.”
“Hello, Tirun. I know you have things to do, so I won’t keep you. Have a good day.”
As Tirun turned to leave, Asher realized he had stopped in the middle of the room. He restarted his brain and returned his dishes. Why does the princess even know that kid’s name? Does she know all the mages’ names? Or is Tirun special somehow?
“I’ve dealt with worse. And this time it’s my choice.” Tirun’s words echoed in Asher’s mind long after he parted ways with the younger mage. He hadn’t dwelt much on the powerful mages, simply hoped that Prince Farrin knew what he was doing and could keep them in line. But now… now he didn’t think he could ignore it anymore. There was no way that Tirun was more than sixteen, at the high end, and the Sunshiners had already been around more than a year. Just how young did they send kids in to fight and die in that arena in Sarthe?
He shook his head thinking about it. It sounded awful, and though as a non-mage he was safe from the persecution that had followed the magic users he was grateful to have been born in Verglas where all slavery was illegal. Tirun didn’t strike him as different than anyone else. Were all the Sunshiners like that?
Maybe… just maybe he should try to find out. Try to learn their stories and get a true picture of what they were beyond all the rumors and fears. He could start by trying to befriend Tirun, and see how it went from there.