Fenric groaned as he tossed off his fur blanket and sat up in his cot. His eyes naturally fell toward his throbbing knee, which seemed to have become even more swollen than when he had fallen asleep.
Thankfully, his armor negated most of the damage when the enemy's spell glanced off it during the battle; otherwise, he might've lost his leg. Still, it was stiff, which meant he'd need to be careful lest he hurt himself more.
Fenric fought through the discomfort and limped to a trunk where he kept his clothing. Once dressed, he threw on a thick fur cloak and carefully stepped out of his tent into the crisp night air.
"Captain! You're finally up!" A feminine voice resounded through the camp.
Fenric looked to the voice's source and saw Mara sitting near a small campfire with some of his other men. As soon as his eyes met hers, she jumped up and darted over.
"How's your leg?" Mara asked, looking over his body as if her last name was Ikorryn.
"It's a bit stiff, but it'll be fine. Where's Alan?" Fenric asked, swatting her away like a buzzing fly.
Mara pouted. "You should cut his pay! He's a lazy good for nothing!"
"What'd he do now?" Fenric asked.
"I was supposed to be able to sleep until nightfall, but he woke me up two hours early! I barely got four hours of sleep! Hmph... He's lucky I don't feel like getting a bucket of ice water to wake him up later." Mara grumbled.
"You better not." Fenric warned. "The last thing I need is you two at each other's throats again because of pranks taken too far."
"Don't worry, I'm not a little kid anymore. I'll just kick his ass when he wakes up." Mara said, punching the air in front of her. "Never mind that. Cassia and Cinto need more parchment to practice their writing. I was going to ask lord Arthur for some, but I figured it was best to wait for you to wake up first."
Fenric frowned as he glared at Mara. "Did I not give you two money to buy more parchment when we were camped outside Penkburghel?"
Mara shrank back. "Don't look at me like that, Captain! I'm innocent, I swear! I didn't go with Alan that day, remember? You told me to stay and watch the camp while you went off somewhere with the little lord."
Fenric thought back and realized she was speaking the truth, yet his anger didn't fade. He didn't believe Alan was stupid enough to steal from him, but he wouldn't be surprised if the idiot had improperly stowed the newly bought parchment or misplaced it somewhere.
"You had how many days to notice, yet you didn't speak up." Fenric flicked her in the forehead. "You're not innocent."
"Hey!" Mara shouted as she jumped back and held her forehead. "I am, too! I'm being persecuted for Alan's mistakes!"
"I'll take care of it for now." Fenric laughed as he turned to leave. "Have Alan figure out what he did with the order when he wakes up."
As he reached Arthur's tent, he spotted Senna struggling to carry a laundry basket nearby and called out to her. "Ms. Senna, please allow me."
Senna happily obliged, handing the basket to him. "Ah, thank you, Mr. Fenric. I'm a bit embarrassed. I misjudged just how far the stream was from here."
"You didn't go alone, I hope?" Fenric asked as the two walked beside each other. "It may be close to the edge of the camp, but it's still dangerous."
"I wasn't alone. Soldiers were traveling the path, filling up kegs with water, so I followed them and got some laundry done." Senna replied before pointing to a retractable wooden clothes rack outside Arthur's tent. "You can place it there, and thank you again, Mr. Fenric."
"It was no problem." Fenric smiled after placing the basket down. "I wonder if lord Arthur is awake yet by any chance?"
"I'm sorry, he's still asleep. Is there something you need? If so, I can notify him you stopped by once he wakes."
Fenric shook his head. "That's alright. It's only a minor thing. I'll stop by again later."
After Fenric said his goodbyes to Senna, he moved toward Baron Iken's tent on the other side of the massive camp. He hoped to be able to purchase a stack of parchment from the baron to hold the kids over until he had the opportunity to procure more.
Of course, the problem wasn't so urgent that it need be done now, but Fenric liked to keep busy, and there was nothing else to be done until sunrise. Besides, moving around in the chilly Bernish air seemed to dull the discomfort he felt in his knee, so it wasn't entirely pointless.
Because of that, Fenric took the long way to the baron's tent, skirting the edges of the camp and occasionally stopping to admire the stars above. However, as he grew near, the sound of glass shattering outside the confines of the camp reached his sensitive ears.
Fenric drew his sword and approached the area where the noise originated. A few dozen feet from the edge of the camp stood a trio of thick trees, and at the base of one sat a disheveled Garren Perick limply grasping a bottle of wine.
Fenric sighed when he saw Garren and sheathed his sword. Like most people within the camp, he had heard about Arthur and Garren's spat earlier in the day and quickly surmised that it was the cause of Garren's sorry appearance.
His personal connection with Garren could be considered friendly, but at the end of the day, theirs was merely a business relationship. Still, he couldn't leave Garren to stew in wicked thoughts now that he served Arthur. It was better to attempt mediation or at least see if it was possible first.
"Lord Garren, are you alright?" Fenric asked as he approached.
Garren scoffed, seemingly knowing it was Fenric by his voice alone. "Have you come to laugh at me as well, Fenric?"
"Why would I laugh at you?" Fenric asked in a calming voice.
"Don't pretend you haven't heard the soldiers gossiping." Garren took a swig from the bottle in his hand. "Despite how I look now, I'm no fool."
"If you want to talk about it, I'm willing to lend an ear, lord." Fenric announced as he sat against another tree beside Garren's.
Garren eyed him in silence before offering the bottle of wine. "Drink with me."
Fenric shook his head and declined. "I'm not fond of alcohol."
"A mercenary who doesn't drink? How enigmatic." Garren chuckled before taking another swig.
"I find that those who have reason to drink rarely have reason to stop... I have too many reasons to drink; therefore, I avoid it when I can."
Garren went silent, seemingly chewing on Fenric's words, and soon, twenty minutes passed as the sloshing sound of wine within Garren's bottle became lighter with each sip he took. Fenric remained patient despite it all, and finally, Garren spoke. "I-I don't know why I'm like this..."
"Like what, lord?" Fenric calmly asked.
"I know it's not his fault... I know it." Garren's hand went pale as he squeezed the bottle of wine with all his might. "But whenever I see his face, all I see is that man looking back at me, and I can't help but feel disgusted. I can't control it... I've tried. Believe me, I've tried. I just can't do it."
"Do you have siblings?" Garren suddenly asked.
"Thankfully, no. I became an orphan at a young age, so it would've been difficult to care for a sibling if I had one." Fenric replied, yet Garren appeared oblivious to his words in his intoxicated state, ignoring them as if they were air.
"Growing up, I never met my father's expectations. 'The Perick's disappointment' he'd call me... You see, he needed a genius for an heir so he could pretend his insignificant little life had some grand meaning. Unfortunately for me, the gods blessed my elder sister with all the talent our house had to offer.
"Beauty, talent, grace... Did I resent her for her gifts? No. Nor did she look down upon me as a disappointment when even the damned servants mocked me... And when I returned to my room night after night bloodied by my father's hand for failing him yet again, Sofia would be waiting for me there to patch me back up..."
Tears welled up in Garren's eyes. "And she'd tell me it was okay and that I didn't need to be anyone other than myself... That I didn't need to prove anything to anyone. Least of all, my miserable father..."
Garren took another swig of wine and laughed to himself. "You know, I was actually happy for her when she told me she would be married. She seemed so happy with her match, which is unheard of among noble marriages. If only I knew then what I know now, maybe she'd still be alive..."
Normally, Fenric would never try to learn secrets relating to nobles. As a commoner, he was a loose end that could be effortlessly cut, but Edward Revan's warning played within his mind for some reason, and he couldn't ignore it. "Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but I was under the impression Lady Sofia Perick died in childbirth. Is that not the case?"
Resentment flashed across Garren's face. "That man killed my sister after being offered the whore daughter of Duke Yor. I know it to be true even if I can't prove it... Yet the gods test me by placing his son before me."
"Is lord Arthur not also your sister's son?" Fenric asked cautiously. "If what you say is true, what do you think his life was like growing up? I can only comment on what I've seen myself, but Marquis Revan appeared completely indifferent toward lord Arthur when I spoke with him alone. I would even go so far as to say his indifference was calculated and malicious in nature."
"I know that!" Garren's hand tightened around the bottle as tears began to fall from his eyes. "He is all that remains of her, yet he was given nothing of her and everything of him! All I see when he looks at me is his father, the man who killed the only person who ever truly cared for me..."
"Forgive me if I say too much, lord. But would Lady Sofia be happy knowing her only child has been shunned by the brother she cared for?"
"I know..." Garren covered his face with his free hand as tears streamed between his fingers. "I know Sofia would despise me for how I've treated her son. I know it because I despise myself. I just... Want my big sister back. I can't..."
Sobs filled the chilly night air as Fenric remained silent, waiting for Garren to let it all out. Unfortunately, Fenric knew there was no remedy for grief except time, and for many, there wasn't enough time in the world.