"It was patrol, they spotted her in the woods. The dirty thing was hiding right under our noses."
The rope captured my arms together and ate away at my wrists. My bones ached but I don't dare to move.
Another woman spoke, her voice small and frightened. "Are you sure she's a Gilden? A user?"
*She?* Again.
Did men not grow out their hair here? More importantly, where was here?
"The Elders will know, they signaled Kjorn."
"From the Fronts? Just for one Gilden?" She asked.
The older woman sniffled angrily. "Iya this war has taken the better of us, we can't afford to be lax. We are the first line of defense."
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, and with that the conversation died.
Some time later, the door swung open, and the sound of boots crunched on the wooden floor. Two? Three maybe, I can't tell the exact number, but I can hear the clanging of iron, swords. Their armed.
I stopped breathing.
The other two women stomped their feet.
"Blue light to you General Kjorn!"
"At ease soldiers," she said. Her voice projected through the bare walls and back at me.
"Is this the Gilden," Kjorn asks.
"The new patrol found her hiding in the Eastern woods, near the Palatins. Poor things haven't seen combat yet and dosed her on Rune flowers."
The room was silent, still, and if I tried I could hear the wind whistle from the parting in the windows.
"Rune flowers," She said, "So might I ask why your prisoner is awake soldiers?"
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I don't open my eyes. As long as I keep it shut, as long as I can't see them, something in me believes I'm not there. I'm not in some foreign land, where I'm a Gilden, and long hair classifies you as a woman.
Instinctively as the blade scathed my neck, I pull back. I count four women, dressed head to toe in metal gear. They seem foreign, something out of a movie.
The youngest one is to my right, and her blade inches closer.
"Nice of you to join us." Kjorn says calmly, but her hand clenches the handle of her sword.
"How did I not notice," the older woman says, her voice is coarse and cold, and her weapon is unsheathed.
All I have to do is open my mouth and tell them that I'm not a Gilden, that I don't even know what that means. They'll understand when I tell them. But the words make a turn in my head, and fall silent on my tongue.
I'm scared. I haven't spoken to anyone, anyone real, in ages.
"Name yourself, Gilden," The girl near me is shaking, her face tightens as if she's taken a mouthful of lemon.
Kjorn moves forward. "Iya, you've just graduated combat training haven't you?"
That seems to stop the trembling.
"Yes. First squad, ma'am."
She was walking circles around me. "Wow, impressive. Now tell me, what do they teach you about the User in your class"
"They teach us that their enemy ma'am," she says.
"What else?"
She sounded less sure. "There isn't much we know about them ma'am. We know that their Gilden, and we must sedate and preserve the body on contact."
"Why?"
She stopped and looked to the older women for help, but was met with silence.
"I don't know ma'am," she said after a while.
Kjorn stood in front of me. There was patterns of regal and intricate shapes on her armor. Closer, I noticed the bulk of the metal was weathered and covered in battle wounds. She wore a cloak, redder than anything I've ever seen.
"Let this be a lesson to you Iya dear, it's because the Users are rune magic, and their name allows us access to it. Now User, what is your name?"
My eyes found everywhere but her face.