Rubbing his eyes, Jett stepped outside of the tavern.
Valeria stood under the singular lantern that lit the establishment's entrance, waiting for her companion to join.
The two were relatively silent, only occasionally whispering to coordinate their collective navigation of the Lower City.
Jett himself could hardly think.
He felt hollow, but not in a Soul-related way.
It was a total mental drainage.
'Must have been the dream.'
He could hardly see, let alone in the dark.
But eventually, they arrived at the Lower to Middle checkpoint.
The Wardens stationed there were wary as two cloaked figures approached before sunrise.
Valeria held out a silverish-gold amulet by its chains. On the front was the Storm Warden insignia.
With raised eyebrows, the Wardens whispered between themselves.
However, they eventually admitted the two suspicious figures, no questions asked.
The sight of the Middle City was a welcome one. Yet it still saddened the sluggish and exhausted Jett.
Comparison was the thief of joy, and it certainly held true.
It was depressing to compare the dense poverty of the Lower City to the sanitized normality of the Middle.
Jett quickly pushed such thoughts away. He had no emotions to give at the moment.
He was going to ask Valeria about the Storm Warden insignia ordeal, but the tight leash of fatigue shut his lips.
The entire walk went by in a blur. Jett just went through the motions of walking, only occasionally picking up the pace or waking himself up.
Upon arrival at the Middle to Upper checkpoint, the guards were less weary, though the appearance of the Captain's medallion was a grave shock.
With their reactions—and actions—Jett could only guess that they had been previously instructed to admit anyone with the medallion.
Even if these were their orders, the Storm Wardens still found it extremely odd to admit such people into the Upper City.
A few backed up, entering a heated argument as other Wardens watched the two suspicious personnel with skeptical gazes.
"You sure we aren't gonna be thrown in jail?" Jett whispered.
"Of course. Maros trains his dogs well."
'But not us?' Jett scoffed internally.
The arguing Storm Wardens eventually came back to the front of the massive guarded checkpoint, instructing the others to let them through.
Late nights and early morning shifts were always rough.
Jett and Valeria walked through the checkpoint, dozens of eyes on them.
"See? Easy. Mansion is next."
…
…
Jett's whole body was running on empty.
Mentally he was crushed. A combination of the dream and the lack of sleep.
Physically, he hadn't eaten or drunk in a day or so.
As such, his legs were burning and preparing to collapse under his weight.
But a large wave of relief washed over him as they arrived at the front gate of the Carmine estate.
Opening the door, Jett hobbled up the stairs to his room heavy-eyed.
"Maros will be calling for us later today."
He entered his bathroom as he slowly stripped off his leather armor, daggers, and clothes.
Lighting the bathroom lantern, Jett fiddled with the artifact at the head of his large wooden tub.
It was shaped like a white ceramic faucet head, produced in large quantities for the leisure of the Upper City folks to enjoy perfect, warm baths.
At the moment, Jett couldn't care about the injustices of such a creation.
All he cared about was the embrace of the pristine warm bath.
Steam rose from the tub as his eyes finally shut.
***
There was a gentle knock on Jett's door.
Joanne opened up, standing in the doorframe to his room.
"Jett."
His eyes opened, much more refreshed than they had been hours ago.
Jett sat up in his bed, looking at the housekeeper with glazed attentiveness.
"Maros is calling. Get fully dressed. You'll have a mission."
…
In his leather armor attire, Jett quickly rushed down the stairs to the main area of the foyer.
Lounging on the couch was Valeria. Lording above her was the stoic Maros.
'Seems I was right. We could've just waited a few more days for a mission instead of going through that whole Lower City debacle.'
But Jett felt too refreshed—albeit a bit groggy—to feel or voice any real disdain for his rambunctious partner's irresponsible actions.
"First thing to get in order," Maros announced. "Valeria, give me back the medallion."
Rolling her eyes in compliance, she tossed the Storm Warden medallion back into his possession.
"And don't think I'm ignorant of your antics. There will not be a next time for such disobedience."
"The blame lies on myself," Valeria admitted emotionlessly. "I goaded Jett into following me. I didn't take the proper precautions, nor did I inform him of our imminent mission. I apologize."
'Wow. Honestly, I'm quite surprised.'
Valeria taking responsibility for her actions was no trivial feat.
But from the lack of emotional charge behind her words, Jett could tell that they weren't exactly the most sincere but rather superficial in some way.
"Do better." Maros huffed. "And you, Jett. Grow a fucking backbone."
Jett laughed internally, which threatened to leak into the external, though quickly suppressed.
"Yes, sir," Jett replied with a respectful bow.
"Enough with the meandering. This will be your longest and most important mission…"
Winter had now arrived in full. And with it, a Divine Crusade.
Not only were the Crusaders more adept than the Stratans in the cold, but the Soul Storm—Strata's greatest asset—would slow, now on a monthly schedule due to the cold currents.
But war represented a great opportunity. And that opportunity was the exact answer to Jett's wishes.
So many powerful Souls would be ripe for the taking.
Whereas the typical Storm Warden would be confined to defending the kingdom, the other heads of the Five would have free reign to tear into Strata's enemy and thereby grow their overall power.
Maros could only put his hope into a small few who were independent of a Warden's duties and thereby could participate.
It was still a massive gamble for him.
'He's betting on us to become strong. Strong enough to participate in the bout for the crown.'
That was a few years away, but Jett was still only a high Acolyte.
At the barest minimum that meant that Jett had to make an entire leap in Stage to a high Stalwart.
But becoming a Maven was likely the goal for both he and Valeria.
Such a feat would be incredibly difficult to accomplish, for both of them.
The average age of the kingdom's Mavens was around their mid-thirties.
Though the youngest was the White Impaler, Augustine Mathurin, leader of Strata's Swords. She had become a Maven at age 20, though now was about half a dozen years older.
Another was Alyson Lalonde, who had become a Maven shortly after the death of the Vale Ranger's previous leader, around 23 years old.
'I'm not even 18 yet.'
As for Valeria, she was still in her early twenties.
Such a herculean task spoke wonders about the amount of trust Maros had for them.
As for their mission specifically…
Jett and Valeria were to travel to the northwestern Valley, where both kingdoms began to exchange skirmishes in each other's Vault settlements.
From there they would group up with their Divine Crusader spy, the last of Maros' secret cohort.
After that, the command was to do whatever possible to gain Soul.
'Simple, but it was anything but.'
"Any questions?" Maros asked.
"What do we do if the armies of the Five mark us as enemies?" Jett asked.
"Don't hold anything back for this mission. Kill them."