For Seraphina the week passed in a haze of repetition, routine, and a carefully maintained facade. Each day, Seraphina performed her assigned tasks as if nothing had happened, scrubbing the camp's grounds, organizing supplies, and enduring the occasional taunts from the bandits.
To an outsider, she seemed to have resigned herself to her place in the camp, but under the surface, she was far from idle.
Her nights, however, were a different story— much different from the past.
The faces of the merchants haunted her dreams.
Every time she closed her eyes, she was back at the scene of the massacre, her blade dripping with innocent blood. Their cries echoed in her ears, their terror etched into her mind.
By the third night, her composure had nearly shattered and she was facing complex emotions due to the lack of sleep.
It was then that Seraphina turned to meditation.
Drawing on techniques she had learned during her early aura training as well as common meditation methods from Earth, she focused on quieting her mind, slowing her breathing, and detaching herself from any internal thoughts within her.
At first, it was difficult to even attempt— her thoughts would race, her chest would tighten, and the memories would claw at her; but with persistence, she began to find moments of clarity.
The meditation didn't erase the nightmares or the guilt, but it gave her a sliver of control— she couldn't properly sleep but at least she could rest enough to not feel herself being drained.
By the end of the week, she was no longer snapping at Edwin or Samuel or retreating entirely into herself due to the emotional instability caused by it. Her eyes were still somewhat red, and her movements lagged slightly, but she could function.
On the fifth night, as the three sat in their dimly lit cell, Seraphina broke the silence for the first time in days, being the first one to prompt the conversation.
"I need you to be ready."
Edwin and Samuel looked up, both startled by her sudden declaration.
"Ready for what?"
Edwin asked cautiously, his silver eyes narrowing.
Seraphina didn't meet his gaze, her voice steady but quiet.
"For when I give the signal. Just... keep doing what you're doing for now. Don't draw attention to yourselves."
Samuel raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical.
"And what exactly is the plan here?"
"I'm working on it."
Her reply was curt, and she didn't bother discussing into too much details— she didn't have a concrete plan to begin with. As of the moment, she was just winging it, she made up the plan as she went, and she worried she might make mistakes, which was why she didn't want to get their hopes up.
Edwin and Samuel exchanged glances but chose not to press her. They had learned over the past that Seraphina's determination, once set in motion was hard to stop.
During the days, Seraphina continued her tasks, but her focus shifted subtly. She began engaging with the bandits, a move that required her to be careful and avoid standing out too much.
Their attitudes toward her were varied— some were openly hostile, still nursing grudges over her earlier defiance; others were unruly, seeing her as an outsider to be mocked or ignored. But a few were wary, their fear of her palpable after witnessing her fight days ago and hearing of her slaughter.
One afternoon, as she carried a heavy crate toward the supply tent, she passed a younger bandit struggling to load a wagon with sacks of grain. Without a word, she stopped and placed her crate on the ground, moving to help him lift one of the heavier sacks.
The boy— barely out of his teens— stared at her, startled.
"Why are you helping me?"
She shrugged slightly, her tone casual.
"Because you're about to drop that on your foot, and I don't feel like hearing you scream."
He chuckled nervously but allowed her to help. Once the wagon was loaded, he hesitated before speaking.
"You're... not quite what I thought you'd be like."
"How so?"
"People say you're weird. Wait uh, I didn't mean it like that."
Seraphina chuckles faintly, using the moment to be friendly with the boy.
"Maybe you just don't know me that well. Everyone has their own story, don't they?"
The boy nodded slowly, his expression confused as she walked away.
Later that day, she approached a group of bandits around a fire, their laughter echoing through the camp. She carried a jug of beer she had just filled, and her demeanor relaxed as she set it down near them.
"Figured you lot could use this."
One of the older bandits raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical.
"What's your game?"
"No game. Just thought this place was getting boring, needing something interesting to do."
They exchanged glances before one of them grinned.
"Fair enough. You're braver than most, coming to sit with us."
As they drank and talked, Seraphina listened carefully, contributing just enough to keep the conversation flowing. She asked subtle questions but weaved them into her tales and jokes, her tone light and curious.
"Pretty big camp, hard to imagine a group of barbarians such as yourselves would survive out here."
One of the men laughed at her comment, and agreed with her, while another chimed in with a little knowledge he had.
"Trading, raiding, hunting. We do what we're good at."
"Must be tough with so many useless mouths to feed."
She added, tilting her head.
"But those rank-one knights, they're pretty odd huh? Where did they even come from?"
The men exchanged glances, their expressions uncertain.
"No clue. They don't talk much. Just follow Rowlin's lead."
On another occasion, she crossed paths with a slightly older bandit sharpening his blade, he wasn't particularly strong, but to survive to old age as a bandit means one was capable.
He glanced at her, his expression wary but curious.
"Not like you to be wandering around."
"Just stretching my legs."
She replied, her voice light.
"What about you? You're always working on that blade."
"Gotta be ready."
"For what? Aren't Rowlin and the others enough? The man's practically unstoppable."
The bandit frowned, his grip tightening on the blade.
"Maybe. But... yeah, he's strong for a bandit. You're not the first to think it. But I can't not be prepared."
She nodded, keeping her expression neutral as she walked away.
By the end of the week, Seraphina's efforts had yielded satisfying results. She had mapped out the camp's layout in her mind and noted the key players and their movements— as well as the internal factions formed by each of them.
From the gathered fragments of information, everything hinted at something far larger than a simple bandit operation— at least most of the normal bandits could pick up on that and the scale didn't make sense.
But most importantly, she had begun to sow discord among the ranks.
Rowlin's loyalty to Karel, his unusual strength, and the disciplined knights under his command— these were all points of contention she could exploit.
Seraphina sat in her corner of the cell at night, piecing together a plan using the information she had gathered.