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Blue of a Sentinel - Chapter 3, The Officer

  The crisp morning air nipped at her nose as dawn spread its soft glow over the mud and grass outside the tent. Arya stirred awake, scratching at her recently cropped hair, Sentinel standard, before reaching for her boots.

  The sun, inching its way over the mountain peak, cast long shadows across the camp. Her heart sank when she realized the tent was empty; Caleb and Charles must have left for the officer's briefing without her.

  Muttering a curse under her breath, Arya grabbed her blue coat and hat. The coat’s worn edges brushed against her fingers, a stark reminder of the time they'd spent in the field. In one swift motion, she shoved her arms through the sleeves and fastened the buttons with haste.

  She stepped outside, blinking against the glare of the rising sun. A chill lingered in the morning air, mingling with the earthy scent of trampled grass and damp soil. The camp hummed with muted activity, soldiers murmuring in clusters, the sharp clink of tin cups against canteens and the occasional bark of orders.

  Arya didn't pause to admire the view or take stock of the camp. The officer wouldn’t wait, and she had no intention of letting Caleb and Charles rib her for being late. She adjusted her hat, tugging it firmly down over her ears, and set off at a brisk pace toward the town square.

  As she strode down the street, her focus was broken by the angry shouts of a local berating a group of drunk soldiers further up ahead. Memories of yesterday’s incident flashed through her mind, and a knot of anxiety tightened in her chest. She wasn’t about to risk another confrontation. Without hesitation, she veered sharply into a narrow alleyway to avoid the brewing scene.

  "Whoa, watch out, missy," came a gruff voice. Arya stumbled slightly, colliding with a man clad in a similar blue uniform as hers. His stance was firm, blocking her way, and his tone carried an unmistakable edge.

  "We’re busy here," he added, his eyes narrowing as he noticed her gaze flickering over his shoulder. Arya craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening behind him, but before she could get a proper look, the man shoved her back roughly.

  "By that, I mean you should leave!" he barked, stepping forward aggressively, his presence filling the alley. The warning wasn’t subtle, and the tension in his voice made it clear she wasn’t welcome here.

  Arya’s hands clenched into fists, but she knew better than to escalate. She raised her arms slightly in mock surrender. "Fine, no problem, I’m gone," she muttered, retreating a step and spinning on her heel. As much as she hated backing down, whatever was happening in that alley wasn’t her fight.

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  She continued to walk down the street, now back towards the drunken soldiers and the still angry local. The road here was uneven, made of stone from the mountain that loomed over the town. She passed a small shrine to Golub, or Columba, god of peace, it was decorated with small leaves from the local trees and small gemstones embedded in the wood.

  Now nearing the group of drunkards, Arya lowered her head and quickened her pace, focusing on the ground ahead. She did her best to ignore both the angry local and the soldiers, willing herself to slip past unnoticed. It seemed to work—until she was about six paces away.

  “Keep walking, whore!” one of the soldiers slurred behind her. His words tumbled clumsily.

  “Fuckers” She mumbled under her breath as she walked on.

  The town square was bustling with chaotic energy. Carts pulled by oxen rumbled through the space, loaded with the wounded, their moans and groans rising above the clatter of wooden wheels on uneven stone. Something had clearly happened.

  Arya’s eyes landed on Caleb and Charles standing stiffly before the officer from yesterday, who seemed to be in the middle of delivering a sharp lecture. She hurried her pace to close the distance.

  “You’re late, Grey,” the officer barked the moment she approached, his stern gaze pinning her in place. “Or were you planning to reschedule our meeting without notifying us?” His pointed look shifted briefly to Caleb and Charles, as if questioning their role in this apparent delay.

  “No, sir. Of course not,” Arya replied smoothly, her tone tinged with sarcasm. She cast a snide glance at the two men, who didn’t so much as flinch under her scrutiny. “I just overslept, sir.”

  “Well, I’ve already gone over your task for the day with these two gentlemen,” the officer began, his tone laced with annoyance. “But I’ll explain it again—quickly.”

  The officer folded his arms as he addressed the group. “We received a messenger earlier this morning. The Colonials are reportedly massing a force for a counterattack in the next valley to the north. Until our telegraph is operational, we’ll need skirmishers to scout ahead and confirm these reports.”

  He stepped toward a table where a map was spread out, its edges anchored by small stones. Gesturing to a marked area, he continued, “That valley is about four kilometers north, near the town of Circinus.” His finger tapped the map with emphasis before trailing to another location. “To avoid detection, you’ll need to hike through this mountain pass to the northeast.” He traced a winding route with his finger, the path twisting between sharp ridges.

  “It will be cold,” he added, his tone stern. “I’ve already briefed the quartermaster. He’ll supply you with winter clothing and the climbing gear necessary for the hike.” With that, he handed Arya a smaller map detailing the pass. “Study this closely, you won’t want to lose your way up there.”

  “Yes, sir,” Arya replied, standing at attention. Then she hesitated before asking, “I thought Comrades-in-Arms C and F were coming with us?”

  The officer shot her an annoyed side-eye. “They’ve been assigned to the front to reinforce our defenses. You, however, will be taking a different path—around both our lines and theirs—to scout.”

  Arya nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Understood, sir.”

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