16 Hours Before the Mission
"Boris, there's nothing else I can offer as proof."
Aiden placed the small emblem down on the counter with care. Zane's signature was clearly etched into its surface, a clear sign of authorization.
But the bulky man behind the counter didn't so much as flinch.
Boris, broad-shouldered with arms as thick as tree trunks, leaned forward, glaring at Aiden as if the emblem itself insulted him.
"There's no reason why Zane would hand you that," Boris shot back, voice rough and dismissive. "You probably stole it."
Aiden's jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin.
"Such accusations," he said with forced calm, though the sharpness in his tone was obvious. "Don't you have a soul, Boris?"
He gestured vaguely around the shop, filled with rows of worn blades and battered shields. "I'm not asking for anything special. Just a dagger. Nothing more."
Boris didn't budge.
His eyes drifted lazily across the weapons lining the walls, as if ignoring Aiden would make him disappear.
Finally, he grunted, shaking his head.
"Until Zane himself walks through that door and says it to my face, you're nothing to me," Boris said flatly.
Aiden clenched his teeth, the familiar heat of frustration simmering beneath the surface.
Before he could say anything more, a voice called out from behind.
"You don't need it, considering the mission."
Aiden turned slightly. Selina stood casually in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, her expression somewhere between amused and mildly scolding.
He sighed, snatching the emblem back from the counter and tucking it away.
"Would be easier if I actually knew about the mission," he muttered, his voice sharp with annoyance.
Selina walked in fully, her eyes flicking briefly between him and Boris before settling back on Aiden.
"There's a reason you don't," she said plainly. "Did you really think secrets would be handed to you on a silver plate a few days after joining?"
Aiden held her gaze, unimpressed.
"Didn't stop Zane from giving me the mission in the first place," he shot back.
Selina's lips curled faintly, but she didn't argue the point.
Instead, she waved lazily toward the door. "Now that you're done antagonizing Boris, mind walking with me? I've got nothing planned until noon."
Aiden nodded, glad for the chance. "Yeah. Actually, I wanted to talk to you anyway."
He shot one last glance at Boris, who stood behind the counter with his arms crossed and a look of faint irritation.
"And you," Aiden added, pointing at him. "We're going to meet again, and you will sell me that dagger."
Boris scoffed, unfazed.
"Whatever you say, stranger," he said flatly, already turning away to tend to something else.
Aiden shook his head and followed Selina out, the morning sun casting shadows behind them as they left the shop, and Boris's sour mood behind.
The village was coming to life around them.
Children chased each other between houses, their laughter cutting through the cool air. Mothers called them back while balancing baskets of food. Fathers worked steadily at a nearby construction site, repairing what looked like makeshift watchtowers and walls.
For a brief moment, it all felt... normal.
Aiden glanced at Selina as they walked side by side. Her pace was relaxed, but her eyes were sharp as always, scanning their surroundings.
After a beat of silence, Aiden spoke up.
"I didn't ask before, but..." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "How's everyone in the group holding up? After everything that happened."
Selina didn't answer right away. She exhaled softly, her gaze drifting ahead as they passed a small gathering of villagers sharing morning bread.
"Lyanna's holding on," she said eventually. "Maybe less than she shows, but she's solid. Always has been."
Aiden nodded slowly, unsurprised.
"Vaena," Selina continued, "didn't seem that attached to the others. She's quiet. Reserved. From what I know, she's handling it fine."
Aiden kept listening, silently taking in every detail.
"Rova, the medic," Selina added, glancing sideways at him. "You probably haven't talked to him. He's still recovering but should be back on duty tomorrow."
"And the others?" Aiden asked.
Selina's lips pressed into a thin line.
"I still need confirmation. Lyanna's keeping an eye on them just in case."
"And you?" he asked quietly, glancing at her. "You didn't say how you're feeling.
He hesitated, lowering his voice slightly.
"For most of them, it probably wasn't the first time. But for you?"
Selina's steps slowed ever so slightly.
For a moment, she didn't look at him.
Then, with a soft exhale, she answered.
"Better than you'd expect," she said simply.
Her voice was steady, but there was a tightness there, subtle but real.
"I was ready," Selina continued. "I need to be. If I want them to take me seriously... if I want to prove myself, there's no room to fall apart."
Aiden didn't push further.
He could hear the weight beneath her words, even if she tried to bury it.
Somewhere behind that calm, practiced mask, the battle had shaken her too.
But like Lyanna, Selina had no choice but to hold steady.
Aiden understood that far too well for reasons he couldn't even explain himself.
Still, he couldn't hold his tongue.
"I don't think you really understand what proving yourself means around here."
His words came out sharper than he intended, cutting through the air like a blade.
Selina blinked, visibly surprised by his sudden tone.
"You're no soldier," Aiden continued, his voice cold, almost clinical. "You come from nobility. Luxury. Whatever your upbringing was, it wasn't this."
Selina opened her mouth, but Aiden didn't give her the chance to speak.
"Do you really think going on missions and coming back with a few injuries is going to make them respect you?"
"I... I thought—" Selina tried again, but he cut her off, pressing the point.
"They aren't with you when you patch wounds. They don't see you staying up late helping the injured, or handling supplies. That's invisible to them."
He stepped slightly ahead, turning his head just enough to meet her gaze directly.
"But you know what isn't invisible?"
Selina stayed quiet, eyes wide but focused on him.
"They see you holding a weapon," Aiden said firmly, his voice low and unrelenting.
"They see you when it's stained with blood. They see what you bring back, trophies, proof that you've taken lives to protect theirs."
His words hung in the air, heavy and sharp like drawn steel.
Selina's steps faltered slightly, her face pale as the meaning sank in.
Aiden pressed on, his tone turning quieter, but somehow even colder.
"In this place," he continued, "they don't care how many injured you save."
His eyes darkened, locked onto hers.
"They care about how many you save from getting injured in the first place."
Selina stared at him, clearly rattled. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came.
The silence between them stretched, tense and suffocating.
Finally, Aiden added, his voice dropping to something almost reflective.
"People don't want to get healed from sickness."
He paused, letting that truth settle before delivering the final blow.
"They don't want to get sick at all."
Selina said nothing.
She couldn't.
Her eyes lowered as they walked side by side, weighed down by Aiden's brutal honesty.
But Aiden wasn't finished.
He slowed his pace, cutting through the heavy silence.
"Selina," he said bluntly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You're not coming with me."
She stopped in her tracks, her head snapping up.
"What? Why—"
But Aiden cut her off before she could even finish the thought.
"It's not something that will benefit you," he said flatly. "But you know what will?"
He turned to face her fully now, his eyes hard and unyielding.
"When I'm gone, I want you to train. Pick a weapon, any weapon that feels right to you. Stick with it. Learn the basics."
Selina's lips parted, but no words came out.
Aiden pressed on.
"And when I return," he continued, his voice dropping lower, "I'll show you. I'll show you how to truly walk among soldiers."
"...Aiden..." Selina's voice cracked slightly, softer now, vulnerable.
But Aiden didn't falter.
"You made your choice long ago, didn't you?" he said quietly. "To stand among fighters. To carry a blade, not a banner. But right now, you're hesitating."
Selina's expression tensed, but she didn't argue.
"Let me show you how not to fall from that path," Aiden finished.
His words hung between them like a quiet vow.
Aiden glanced away, catching sight of a nearby clock on a wall in the distance.
Almost time.
His meeting with Zane was fast approaching.
Without waiting for a response, he adjusted his posture, the decision already made.
"I'm going," he said simply. "And you're not."
He took a few steps forward, but paused just long enough to leave her with one last thought.
"This isn't your hour to shine," he said without turning. "But it will be. Sooner than you realize."
With those words left hanging, Aiden turned and walked away, quick, decisive steps carrying him forward toward what lay ahead.
Selina remained behind, unmoving.
She stood silently in the dirt path, caught in the shadow of his parting words, watching him disappear into the crowd.
But Aiden didn't look back.
His focus was already shifting.
He followed the path with purpose until his destination came into view.
The Split Branch.
The tavern towered ahead, sturdier than most other structures in the village.
Unlike the rest of the camp, this place felt… too lively.
Muffled sounds drifted through the wide wooden doors, clinking mugs, muted cheers, and the low hum of conversation.
So this is where everyone gathers, Aiden thought, pausing at the threshold.
The door stood wide open, oddly welcoming, though it didn't match his mood.
Still, he pressed on.
Warmth and noise hit him the moment he stepped inside.
Humans and elves sat shoulder to shoulder at long tables, tankards in hand, laughter mixing with curses. Despite the rebellion's grim reality here, at least for now the weight of survival felt distant.
Aiden slipped quietly through the chaos.
No one paid him much mind. Just another face among many.
That suited him.
He made his way toward the back, where a wide staircase curled upwards. Two guards stood at the base, leaning casually, their expressions lazy until they noticed him.
As he approached, their eyes sharpened.
Before either could speak, Aiden pulled the emblem from his pocket, Zane's mark of approval.
Recognition flickered across their faces.
One gave a simple nod.
"Go ahead," the guard said, stepping aside.
Without a word, Aiden climbed the stairs, leaving behind the noise and warmth below.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
By the time he reached the second floor and stood before the heavy oak door at the end of the hall.
The wood felt cool beneath his fingers as he pushed it open.
A spacious room greeted him.
Not luxurious, but organized. Maps lined the walls, stacks of documents filled nearby shelves, and pale daylight poured in through a wide window.
All eyes turned to him.
Zane sat behind a broad desk near the center. He nodded once, face unreadable.
"Aiden. Good. We can start now," he said, motioning him inside.
Aiden's gaze swept across the room.
Lyanna leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching quietly.
Two others sat by a side table, going over maps. One looked experienced and hardened, while the other was young, glancing around with stars in his eyes.
But it was the fourth figure that caught and held Aiden's attention.
A man stood near the window, half a head taller than anyone else. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He simply was.
A black cloak draped his shoulders, concealing most of his form. Whatever lay beneath, whether armor, robes, or something stranger, remained hidden.
But it was his face that unnerved Aiden.
A white mask clung tightly to the man's head.
Perfectly smooth.
Featureless.
No mouth. No eyes. Not even breathing holes.
Just polished white.
For a long, unsettling moment, Aiden couldn't tell if the man was looking at him or not.
There was no sign of life, no breath, no subtle shift of weight.
Before Aiden could dwell on it further, Zane's voice cut through the tension.
"Everyone," Zane said firmly, rising to his feet, "let's discuss the details."
The two rebels at the table turned toward Aiden, studying him briefly.
The first was an old woman, tall, broad-shouldered, and scarred. Age hadn't softened her. If anything, it had carved her into something harder. She stood just beneath the masked man in height, but matched him in presence.
Her calm expression didn't hide her cold, veteran eyes.
Beside her stood a smaller man, wiry and sharp-eyed. His weathered face was half-hidden beneath a hood, and his body was covered in belts and pouches filled with tools.
A survivalist, no doubt.
Aiden knew immediately, this wasn't a casual squad.
It was chosen for something dangerous.
Zane didn't waste time.
"This is a rescue mission," he began, his tone steady and grave.
But then he paused, letting the weight of his next words settle before delivering them.
"But make no mistake..."
His eyes swept across the room, lingering briefly on Aiden.
"Given the risks, it could just as easily turn into a suicide mission."
Silence followed.
The words hung in the air, heavy and final.
Aiden said nothing.
But inside, his mind sharpened.
This wouldn't be clean.
And it sure as hell wouldn't be easy.