Balair looked listless, but his mind was anything but, recalling all that he had been told earlier.
The cover-up.
They had given him reasons why the cover-up was needed, but he still felt strange about it; he felt as if he had suddenly been thrust into something big, something bigger than he could imagine.
The more he went through all Nilith had told him, the more shivers went through his body, in awe of just how foolproof it all seemed.
At least to him.
He had never been a planner of things but more of a doer of said things.
Ugh, I'll just be giving myself a migraine thinking about this…
He thought to himself as his hands rubbed against his eyes. As he did that, a thought of the last thing Sabastin had said to him before he left rang through his mind, a sudden cold hitting his skin as he did so, feeling all the hair on his skin stand.
I sure met interesting people today.
He stood to now take his leave, his eyes meeting the still-sleeping body of Hansen, hints of childish hate burning in them. He then raised his head to look at the bin where his remaining food had been dumped by Sabastin, and then at his tummy, which he was now rubbing, a silent longing in his eyes.
He then looked up at the canteen just a few steps from the door leading out of the personnel mess hall. He looked around. It was vastly different from the one the cadets used. He smelled a hint of flowers, the walls were a pristine white, the tiled floor was spotless with cushioned chairs and small ornamental pots carefully arranged everywhere, giving the place a feeling of calm and the air a fresh feel in the lungs. In fact, the canteen had a small display board over it that showed all the available food choices, and in all that, Balair did not find the slop they had fed him in the cadet mess hall anywhere. Was that even food? He wasn't too sure of the contents; the only thing he could confirm was food were the small bits of meat he tasted in it.
He started to salivate as he remembered the delicacies that he had been treated to earlier, most he had never tasted before, but that left a good, very, very good impression in his otherwise hard-to-please taste bud.
Can I get more? They aren't here, though. How do I do that?
He was not too sure the staff at the canteen would pay him any mind now that Noah and his cohort were gone…
His eyes slowly rested on the sleeping Hansen.
Time to be useful, my favorite sergeant!
And with that, he began his hopefully fruitful march to the canteen, his steps slowing as he got closer. What if the sergeant was not as important as Noah and the members of his cohort were…
The stupid thought flew past his mind endlessly, and with each rotation, his strides reduced, and so did their frequency.
He's a personnel though… he has to at least have a little bit of renown… right?
With that thought, he stopped walking. He was now about three stone throws from the canteen. He suddenly remembered all the 'good things' his own colleagues had to say about him when Dustin and him went around trying to finish their platoon's filings.
Ugh… well, let's just try anyway. What's the worst that could happen?
And with that, he was now before the canteen, his hands resting on the cool marble.
He tried to speak the first time but no words came out. He then tried again, only for a pitiful squeal to make its way out of his mouth. He then cleared his throat, red in the ears as the people behind the marble looked at him, all three clearly embarrassed for him.
"You want more food?" a woman who looked more advanced than the two on her left asked, trying to help the poor boy before he made his foolish situation even more dire.
After a dozen seconds or so of listless staring and muffled chuckles from the two women by her side, Balair finally spoke as if he had just found his lost voice.
"Uh- ye- yeah I would like more…"
A broad smile formed on the face of the older woman.
"We get a lot of visitors here, personnel of course, 'personnel mess hall' and all, but–" she paused.
"We don't get many who appreciate good food." She paused again, this time longer than the last, the others still laughing themselves to a point tears threatened to start flowing out of their red eyes.
Balair just looked listlessly with one thing on his mind.
SO? Can I get the food or not?
He did not want to cut the old lady off, but she had them in this pause that had already lasted over half a minute now. So what did she have to say that would be so profound that it would warrant this long pause?
She was talking about food… right? Or was it something more?
After what felt like forever, she finally spoke.
"While it pains me to say this as the head of the personnel mess hall, I cannot give personnel food to cadets," she paused again, much to the annoyance of Balair, who was already tired of how long and simply unnecessary her pauses were, a hint of his frustration making its way to his face.
"But…" she paused again. Balair had more or less had an idea of what she wanted to say but just maintained his facial expression, though it had almost failed him due to his frustration at the woman's way of talking and her friends? by her side were not making it any easier.
I as a staff am willing to let go of my portion of the meal for you.
"I as a staff member am willing to forgo a portion of my meal for you," she said simultaneously as the thought formed in Balair's mind.
Her smile was nice and almost infectious but her way of speaking was really annoying to sit through, which Balair had to since he was the one asking for a free meal. He smiled softly, thanking the old lady profusely as she packaged the meal for him in multiple recyclable containers, putting the containers into three cardboard bags and handed it off to him.
"Thank you very much, Basile!" Balair thanked again, red in the ears as he walked out of the mess hall. A distinct chatter of laughter and gossip exploding as he got far enough from the Hall, the two women could finally let themselves be free.
Balair was glad he had gotten his hands on a few if not all the foods on display on the small display, the proof of that being the three full bags he held in his arms as he walked out of the Personnel Mess Hall, the setting sun softly shining down on his white shirt.
Since he had lost his uniform to the fallen gym, he was expecting to get a new one anytime soon in his room in a few days, if not immediately he got to it. And then something hit him.
Oh my… how the hell am I going to get into my room without my Aluwris…
He stopped his march to the cadet quarters and surveyed the view before him, tilting his head to the place where the field was. There in the mostly empty field he saw them…
The graveyard platoon.
His platoon…
A smile formed on his lips as he forgot the stress of how he was going to get into his room.
There on the field just in front of the members of his platoon stood a boy with silver hair that glistened in the falling sun.
Dustin.
He looked perfectly fine as if that night never happened.
They said every bone in his body was broken but would you look at that…
He seemed to have been busy while he was away, and on closer look the platoon was not complete, the nobles were of course not even on the field. Balair could only wonder what had made his platoon fall in last place during the evaluation, and only one name came to mind.
Torren…
He was sure that one of his antics did their platoon in, his name alone left a bitter taste in his mouth. He did not hate him but he could not imagine himself alone in a room with the little prick…
"Ugh… enough of him. I have people that have waited quite a bit for my return. I should go say hi," Balair said, smiling as he began walking toward his platoon who sat under the shade, one he was very familiar with, the shade that created the commoner faction and the noble faction.