The soldiers marched ever onward back to training. When they got closer, to the point where they would turn away from the road toward Klain, Captain Grayson planned to dispatch a messenger to update the General and receive further orders, if any.
He had hoped that somehow, they would find some clue as to these strange happenings so the messenger would have more to say than the short carrier pigeon message had.
Unfortunately, nothing of note had happened other than the wolves making their presence known but remaining out of sight. It was an unnerving thing for the men, and Grayson kept extra recruits on watch.
The howling through the night made sleep challenging when they camped, and the result was a group of utterly exhausted soldiers. Even the experienced ones who were further through their year than Roland were finding it increasingly difficult to maintain their attention and composure.
Though they outwardly tried to maintain a façade of professionalism, irritations and disagreements began to bubble to the surface. Grayson was eager to get them to the training camp where the wooden walls might give them enough quiet and sleep to regain calm.
Though, he had to admit, this was likely good training for a warlike scenario, the brand new recruits should only be exposed to so much at a time. He wanted to train them, not break them, especially if a war was on its way. They needed to get back and resume sparring practice, battle formations...
He wondered for perhaps the first time in his career about Klain's training methods. They were passed down by tradition, but as the nation had not seen war in hundreds of years, perhaps the methods were outdated?
Would the training hold up in an actual scenario of battle, or would the rigid structure and identical training across the whole of the nation cripple them from being adaptable? He blinked at the unnerving line of thought.
If he could feasibly construct a scenario where the soldiers could practice strategies that would be effective against animals like wolves, maybe it wouldn't be a terrible idea to try it out on the recruits. The sparring techniques they taught were effective against human combatants of approximately equal or greater stature. Maybe there were some hunters among the recruits that would have some insight into proper techniques.
Pulled from his deep thought, he realized they had come to the turnoff where the road to Klain and the way back to the training camp separated. He hadn't designated a messenger to carry news to the General that the mission remained unsuccessful. He scanned the troops nearest to him and his eyes laid on Roland. Though a brand new recruit, the man had been useful and had reported to the General in the past as a civilian.
"Roland!" He called, and the man stepped forward. "Go to the wrangler and take a horse. You will report all the events in detail to the General in Klain, then bring the two other recruits back to the training camp unless you are given other orders. Everyone else, five minutes rest."
Roland saluted and went to carry out the orders, but the newest recruit next to him grabbed his arm and whispered furiously at him.
"Problem, soldier?" asked Grayson with narrowed eyes. The man dropped his hand and saluted the superior officer.
"No, sir."
Grayson dismounted to care for his horse and let the men go about their business. However, he continued listening to the loudly whispered conversation behind him.
"It's orders! What do you want me to do, Riley?" Roland seemed exasperated as he spoke to the other man.
"I still think you orchestrated this so you can go back and see.... everyone." Riley responded.
"You've been with me just about every minute. When would I have done that?"
"That's a good point. I'm still mad that you get to go and I don't."
"Would it make you feel better if I delivered your letters while I'm there?" Roland asked more softly.
"You would do that for me? Word of honor? And you won't... read them?" Riley seemed embarrassed by the contents of whatever these letters were.
"I promise, I won't look at them and will deliver them to the best of my ability." Roland's tone was solemn. He seemed to like the other man despite whatever quarrel was between them now.
There was a brief rustling and Grayson looked over this shoulder to see Riley handing Roland some folded papers. "Thank you."
Roland gave a salute to his fellow recruit and hurried off to carry out his orders.
Curious.
____________________________
Finn and Mayra arrived back at Klain before the city gates closed, and made their way to the Sherman home. Finn spent some time studying the little plant. Although it would hardly be a full time endeavor to look after it, the thing was a nice change from poring over research all day long.
She stuck a finger into the soil in the pot and discovered it was quite dry. She decided some extra water was needed; most plants did not prefer so little moisture. She began examining each of the leaves next, turning them over and looking at their coloring. There was no sign of disease, mildew, or pest that she could see. The yellowish brown leaves might simply be the result of too little water, but surely Jimmy wouldn't have had trouble watering the plant.
She decided the little thing must be malnourished in some way. It was a tricky, trial-and-error process with a new plant. Some plants wanted more sun, some would be scorched in too much direct sunlight. Some loved very wet soil, and others preferred a more arid climate.
Adding things to the soil would sometimes help it grow. She usually ground up table scraps and threw them into her garden to rot into the soil. Sometimes she added wood ash from her cooking fire as well, depending on what she was growing.
She usually took her cues about what a plant needed from the location where it naturally grew, so she was at a disadvantage now. Being handed a pot with a plant in it with no name and no knowledge about it wasn't something she often experienced. It was quite a unique challenge. Maybe Mrs. Sherman would know what kind of plant it was. Its central purple bloom was fairly distinctive.
The soil it was placed in was a sandy brown color not ideal for many herbs. Finn went to the kitchen as they arrived back at the house and, not immediately seeing Mrs. Sherman, searched for the bin where fruit and vegetable scraps were thrown. She took the bin outside and delicately sorted through it until she found a few fruit peels, vegetable scraps, and eggshells. Using two flat rocks, she crushed it all up as best she could, and let the gross, smelly juice drip into the plant's pot. Then, she dusted the smaller crushed pieces into the pot and added a little more water.
"Let me know how you like that," Finn spoke to the little plant quietly. "If you prefer something else, I'll have to figure it out tomorrow." She placed it on a windowsill where it would catch the first sunlight in the morning.
"Who are you talking to, dear?" Mrs. Sherman bustled in.
"The plant. Old habit. Do you happen to know what this plant might be?" Finn asked.
Mrs. Sherman examined it closely. "I haven't the faintest idea. It might be quite pretty if you can get it perked up again."
"That's what I'm hoping to do." Smiled Finn.
Mayra and Finn ate supper with the Shermans after sharing what transpired with the mysterious Jimmy. Having completed all the productive research she felt she could, Finn lamented her lack of purpose.
"You could help me with housekeeping things," Mayra offered, though she had it all well in hand.
"Maybe," Finn would like to be useful to the Shermans, but also desired some sort of task that could work towards solving the mysteries of the Rhone army or helping her family. Healing the plant would take a minimal amount of her time as there was no instant reaction to anything she did; there would be a lot of waiting to see what made it happy and what didn't.
"I heard one of the neighbors say they were having trouble placing all those orphans," Mrs. Sherman thought aloud, "Maybe you could help with them? Poor things turned up in one of the nearby towns in a peddler's cart."
"What happened to them?" asked Finn
"I haven't heard. Some kind of tragedy in their village, I think. A whole big group of children left parentless and found by a peddler, who brought them in. The town reported to the Council, who brought them into the city to be disbursed into adoptive homes. But there's so many, they're having a bit of trouble placing them all right away. I've considered taking one in, myself. Maybe you could check on that for me tomorrow, if you'd care to."
Finn nodded thoughtfully. She wondered what sort of tragedy could befall an entire village, leaving only children behind. Could it be similar to what happened to her village? It wasn't unusual for children to run off and play together without strict adult supervision where she was from.
If the children had been out playing on their own when an army descended and took everyone hostage... she shuddered. The poor things. She was dying of curiosity, but maybe asking questions of the little dears would only traumatize them further. Best to just volunteer to help and see what information naturally revealed itself.
Everyone retired to bed early, exhausted from their various pursuits. They would see what tomorrow would bring soon enough.