Dem returned to the Swiftwind camp a few hours before dawn, waking Telo just long enough to notify him of his return before heading to his family tent. Cosmo slept in front of the entrance, his massive head lifting at Dem's approach.
"Watching over everyone?" Dem whispered, scruffing the warhound's head before slipping inside. His thoughts drifted back over the last few days.
He'd changed course abruptly after overhearing Chava and the miners. Another loose end remained—Lucky and Bull, who were watching over Rego. They'd been promised another twenty gold at the end of the job, but paying them carried a risk of exposure Dem found unacceptable. Too sloppy, he admitted to himself.
The warm comfort of his family tent welcomed him as he shed his clothes and slipped into his bedroll. The familiar scents of leather, smoke, and roasted meat lingered as sleep claimed him.
"Dasai!" Ai's voice pulled Dem from slumber a few hours later as she woke the family for breakfast. She scooted closer, slipping an arm around his back. "We were starting to worry."
Noko sat up on his other side, rubbing her eyes, smiling like a sunrise. "I'm glad you're back, dosu."
Dem nodded, lingering beneath the covers until the women pulled the privacy curtain. "I'll see everyone at breakfast."
A short while later, the morning Sybasi class was in full swing, Dem pacing the line of tribals as he introduced the next phase of training—offensive attacks, for the first time.
"Stop."
Dem approached Yanz, motioning for the rest of the class to gather. "See how he's standing? Keeping his feet closer together lets him stay in the neutral position. That's ideal for countering, which is what you're still learning."
He demonstrated a forward thrust with his arm. "We spent the last few months on defense. How many defensive forms did I teach you from the advanced position?"
When no one answered, Dem gestured to Yanz.
"None, Commander," Yanz replied.
"Right. None." Dem shook his head. "This is a process. Don't throw away months of defensive discipline just because we've started working on strikes."
"Sorry, dasai," Ai said, wrinkling her nose. "It's hard to focus on both defense and offense."
Dem nodded. "That's true. Want to know a good way to maintain focus?"
Ai smiled. "Yes, please."
"Running." Dem gestured toward the perimeter. "Lead the class around the compound—including the far side of the river."
Dem ignored the groans as the training ground quickly emptied.
A short while later, the clacking sound of wood slamming together echoed across the training field as Huntmaster Dern continued drilling Dem in spear forms.
"Outstanding, Dem." Dern shook his head. After only a few months of focused spear work, his student had already surpassed peers who'd trained since childhood.
Dem grinned, accepting the praise with his usual calm. "I altered my Sybasi footwork to fit the spear."
The Huntmaster nodded. "Defensively, you're already an expert. Tomorrow we'll move training into the woods. From now on, we'll change terrain regularly."
Dern clapped Dem on the shoulder. "That's it for the day."
Dem stowed his spear, noting that Nephira slept peacefully in his storage ring, coiled around the large cache of manajewels glowing faintly within. Moon hadn't spoken or stirred since being separated from the manajewel bed—perhaps resting, perhaps reforming—but Dem could still sense her presence. Alive. Steady. He also sensed that Nephira was benefiting from it.
Dem broke into a jog, weaving through the Swiftwind camp, nodding or waving back when greeted. The scent of something rich and savory caught his attention as he entered his family's common area.
"What is that?"
Yada looked up. "Voderbeast stew. Wash up—I'll serve in a few minutes."
Dem grinned, scooping water from the rain barrel into a wooden bucket and washing his hands and face.
Still dripping, he glanced around. The ground was flat and clear, perfect for sitting—his family usually used stools or chopping blocks when they ate.
"Where is everyone?"
"All three are picking winter berries," Yada replied, stirring the pot. "One of the hunters found a stand of trees loaded with fruit. They'll be back soon. Want to wait or eat now?"
"I'll wait."
Dem sat on a nearby chopping block and decided to organize his storage ring. He'd been tossing all sorts of odds and ends into it—some of them surprisingly valuable. He froze mid-thought, pulling out a silver ring set with a familiar stone.
"That's pretty," Yada observed.
He wouldn't have recognized it a week ago. Now he knew exactly what it was—a fragment of manajewel. "I told you about the mercenary captain from Khomane."
Yada snorted. He'd told her—and so had everyone else. The defeat of six hundred Khomane mercenaries by the Sentry Force was known across the continent. "Was that his ring?"
Dem nodded. "I completely forgot about it. It's a storage ring."
Yada paused her stirring. "Like the one you gave Ai?"
"Bigger, I think. Captain Feran was a minor Khomane lord." Dem slipped it on and peered inside.
Yada lifted the iron pot from the fire and set it aside before stepping closer. "You waited all this time to look?"
"In my defense, I've been busy." Dem whistled softly. "Mid-sized, but packed full. Not as large as the King's Tomb ring."
He tapped the ring, and a large rectangular table appeared, followed by eight ornate chairs with cushioned backs.
"Saints," Yada murmured, running a hand over the surface. "That would be perfect for prep. We could even eat here."
Dem laughed and began transferring the contents into his own ring. "I'll give you the ring once I'm done moving everything."
Books. Maps. Weapons. Survival gear. Dozens of wine bottles. Clothing. A full dining set. And finally, a large metal disc bearing the emblem of the Khomane Scrivener's Guild.
"I've seen those," Yada said. "Capitol guilds give them to VIPs."
Dem set out plates, silverware, crystal mugs, and place settings. "This table is disgustingly ugly."
Yada snorted. "What? No, it isn't!"
"It would make good firewood," Dem said mildly.
Yada pursed her lips. "Demetri Swiftwind."
Dem laughed. "Fine. You can have it—with the ring."
Yada smiled, resting her hand on the table. "Thank you, Dem."
"What was her name again?" Dem held up the emblem, recalling the scrivener who'd accompanied the mercenary company. "Sadera Yil. Pleasant woman, considering her company. She must've given him this."
Dem spotted the group emerging from the woods, led by Cosmo, trotting proudly ahead. Noko walked between Ai and Gram, swinging a large bucket like she didn't have a care in the world.
"Goodness…" Gram smiled when she saw the dining set arranged in front of their family tent. "Where did this come from?"
"Probably Khomane," Dem replied, hugging the older woman when she opened her arms.
"I wouldn't mind taking our meals on this," Gram laughed. "Though I suspect we'll have guests."
Noko set the bucket near the fire, her fingers and lips stained purple. "My mum had a table like this…" She crouched, peering underneath. "Yep. I did the same thing on ours."
The group fell quiet. Noko's family had been killed by the Queen of Caveressi—one of the shared visions from her inking rite.
Dem crouched as well, studying the underside. Names and words were carved there, rough and careless. One stood out clearly: Feran is an ass.
"He certainly was."
Dem drew his dagger, found an empty space, and carved carefully. Cosmo smells funny.
"Hey!" Noko giggled.
Dem shrugged. "From what I can tell, only insults are allowed."
Noko nodded solemnly. "That's true. I wrote about my cousin under our table." She leaned closer and whispered, "She used to steal my cake."
"Why is everyone under the table?" Yada asked, her voice punctuated by the clink of bowls as she began serving.
Dem, Ai, and Noko scrambled back into their seats.
"I haven't carved anything yet," Ai complained. "Maybe something about Telo…"
"He's coming," Dem said, not looking up. "So is Tam."
They entered from opposite sides of the camp, grinning at one another before sitting. Tam slid in beside Ai, running her fingers along the smooth surface.
"Where did this come from?"
Telo settled beside Dem, one brow lifting. "The fourth tower?"
Dem shook his head. "Feran's ring."
Telo snorted. "That ass…"
"Apparently," Dem laughed. "Let's take the Sentry Force out for training this afternoon. Nothing heavy. Afterward, we'll take a smaller group on a short excursion."
Telo nodded, thanking Yada as she handed him a bowl.
The meal and conversation were warm. Dem caught up on the last few days, listening as each member of his family filled him in. For his part, he glossed over his brief time as a conscripted officer. If there was one thing he'd learned about secrets, it was this: you either kept them, or you didn't. Once information escaped—no matter the source—it became a liability.
Chava and the miners should have already reached a port city and, if luck favored them, boarded a ship by now. The lords behind the manufactured border dispute wouldn't yet have discovered the missing manajewels, but with multiple Dhrygal officers dead in the war camp, an investigation was inevitable.
The military would assume Hanza and Fen had been killed by a Galieo assassin. Any deeper suspicion would be quietly buried by both sides—lest their true motive, the discovery of manajewels, unravel everything.