The sun hangs low in the sky when Ren rises. She stands and stretches, walking across her small but comfortable quarters to gaze out the window. A morning fog blankets the city. Most of the city is still sleeping, but a few lights spring up here and there. Nothing like where she came from. How long has it been since she left that chaotic, cruel world behind? She purses her lips, turning away.
She starts to get dressed, donning her armor. The steel is dented, discolored in places. Signs of use. Despite this its polished and clean. Mirasyl taught her to take pride in her gear, in herself. She's no longer that scared little girl, hiding behind books and screens while others mock her. She has purpose here. She's a knight now, a defender of Antyre, and a veteran at that. She straps on her sword and slings her shield over her back.
Mirasyl is already in the castle courtyard when she steps out, running drills for the recruits. The elf grins when she spots Ren crossing through. "Little raven, off to start the rounds?" With their teacher distracted the gathered recruits take the chance to sit and take a breather.
Ren blushes at the familiar nickname. The woman was older than the country she grew up in. It was still hard to wrap her head around that long of a life. Elves. She sighs and shakes her head with a quiet chuckle. "Just checking which drunkards the guard rounded up last night."
"Better drunkards than bodies." Mirasyl says with a hint of somberness. "Tell Marcille I said hello." The war had taken its toll. Myrasyl had seen many of her knights dead before their brief time was up.
"Will do. Take it easy on them." She smiles and heads off towards the gate, making for the streets and the guard post beyond.
"Never." Mirasyl grins. She turns back to the lounging recruits. "On your feet!" They groan and stand, wooden swords in hand.
Ren walks through the slowly awakening streets, passing delivery wagons and bleary eye'd shopkeepers. She eventually reaches the first of many guard posts she's to be checking with. She knocks and the door opens a crack. She can see Marcille's green eyes and crimson locks. "Ren! Good morning!" Marcille opens the door the rest of the way to let her in. Her post was always the first on Ren's route.
"Marcille. Mira says hi." Ren smiles as she steps in. "How are we doing today? Any trouble in the night?"
"The usual... tavern brawls, broke up a street fighting ring, couple of guys got rough with some street girls. There was one unusual one. She's in the cell in the back, away from the others."
Ren raises an eyebrow. "Unusual how?"
"Odd dress... even odder talk. Kept saying she wants to go home... but we ain't heard of none of the places she says. Gone daft if you ask me. Said her name was vous?"
Ren goes very still. It can't be. It has to be someone else. She's here? "Take me to her. Now."
Marcille raises an eyebrow and goes to the unlock the door, leading Ren down the corridor to the lone cell at the end. She stares at the woman inside. She's older than the girl she once knew, but there's no mistaking it. She looks scared. So lost.
"vous?"
