Ch 3.25: Outsider

Every step Tira took was a longer than the last. She wished that she ached from the trip, wished she was exhausted by the heat like her fellow students and soldier, wished that any distraction at all could take her mind off the reality of what she was doing. They had spent nearly an hour descending the cliff, and per Commander Falln’s orders each set of “troops” were to take the direct route, through the city of Marden, to get to the camp they’d finally rest at.

People froze, eyes locking onto her as the group of twenty walked by.

No one stared at Calivahn, the war hero decorated in medals, no one stared at Elaina or Carly or Flora, the women certainly more attractive than Tira herself, no one stared at Prisma and Wayne, the children of their occupying nation’s ministers. They only stared at Tira, the one whose skin was the same dark tan as theirs. Her Endrin collar clenched at her neck, pulling at her throat with each breath as if she were hanging from the gallows themselves. That’s probably where they’d like to see me. Probably what I deserve at this point.

She could tell Elaina was looking at her, probably trying to offer some supportive glance. Tira didn’t need to check, didn’t deserve the sympathy anyway.

The stillness of everything should’ve comforted her, but it was just as heavy as the stares. Her sense of [Momentum] was all but deadened to anything but than the soldiers marching through, their uniforms and luggage the only movement it could detect. It gave her ample time to take in the scene with her eyes, the dirty faces of children, some slack jawed and missing teeth, some hiding from behind corners, confused at what they were seeing.

The adults weren’t confused. They knew what she was, eyes filled with as much disgust as shock.

Every dilapidated building, every rotten-wood stall they passed weighed on Tira. She knew there was nothing she could do about them, but she knew why they were there. Despite her attempts to shut everything out, memories of a person flooded her mind. He was hazy, not fully formed, but he had a bushy beard, a deep laugh, and brown skin, the only person until now she’d ever seen with skin like hers. The memory man spoke of rich tapestries and robes, dyed in colors so bright they outshined the sun, pristine buildings that dwarfed any building in Endrin outside the castle, jewelry and pottery so fine that they were sought after the world over.

Tira didn’t see those things. She saw only ragged tarps over incomplete roofs, sweat stained and ripped clothing, cracked pots that weren’t even as bright as the red sand they sat on. That sand was the only thing still left from the time that memory man spoke of. And despite everything, Tira couldn’t help but see the beauty in it. It was the only thing in this city she could see beauty in.

But that just made it worse. Where were the dyes he had promised would be made from it, the reds made from it supposedly brighter than even the sand itself, the pure crimsons, the mixed oranges and purples? Where were the pots made from the clay that could be formed with the sand, the red pearls polished and shined from the rocks that hadn’t yet been ground into dust? I know where they are. They were in the capital, in the castle, in some official’s manors, a couple even hanging on the walls of Endrin. And I’ve let them sit there all this time.

Feeling sorry didn’t do her any good though. She had to steel herself, be strong, be Strask. She shoved the pity deep down, into the depths of herself she couldn’t reach. It left her feeling nothing, but that was better than the alternative right now. She didn’t shed a tear as she walked past an Endrin soldier shove a woman into the wall for getting in his way, nor when she walked past a man collapsed in the sand, no one paying any mind to him as some student soldiers hesitantly stepped around him, as some stepped over him, as one soldier proper stepped on him.

This wasn’t the homeland her father had promised her.

Their exit from the city was as uneventful as their entrance, just another step in the march, but their entrance into camp was anything but. The stares were the same as in the city itself, but this time they came with whispers, whispers that Tira had done her best to ignore on the way up, whispers she was pretty sure the other girls hadn’t even noticed, but in this new camp with soldiers who had been stationed here for months, years even, they were unstoppable.

At least until Commander Falln stepped into view. He had gone ahead with the first group that descended the cliff face, the lead of the convoy, and while this camp wasn’t anywhere near the level of order and regiment as theirs had been on the trip here, but Tira knew from regiment that wouldn’t last long.

Calivahn was the first at attention, and Tira the next being directly behind her. She knew the students to her side and behind would be quick to follow, having gotten used to this man’s demands over the weeks and miles. He gave a quick nod to no one in general, and then stepped past Calivahn, placing a hand directly on Tira’s shoulder. If she hadn’t already pushed all feeling deep inside herself, she would’ve curled into a ball out of sheer instinct alone.

“I’m glad you’re here with us today, Officer Strask,” the man said with an eye on the pin marking her as head of the school watch. They were the first words she’d seen him speak directly to any one person other than Calivahn. “We expect great things from you; your father would be proud.”

“Thank you, sir,” Tira said, and she hated herself.