Private Quarters

“License to kill, huh?” Destrian asked.

“You could say that. But rest assured, I won’t strike unless provoked.”

Destrian nodded gravely.

“I understand. As a minority here, as a vampire, you need assurances that you will be safe. I will personally guarantee it.”

Olomyar, however, was pale with a fear that was rapidly curdling into suspicion.

“But the mines…” his voice shaking. “How do you even know of them?! You are a newcomer, we have no record of your name, you are not of royal blood. Who are you?!”

Anna smirked, “Let’s just say the orcs you fought were not mindless beasts. Their war chief spoke of many things before he died.” She leaned forward, her orange eyes locking onto his. “A mine filled with dark beings, right beneath your feet, is a very tempting target to save for them, wouldn't you agree?”

It was the perfect unverifiable lie. But Olomyar didn’t believe it. His hand twitched, moving instinctively towards the wand at his belt.

“Maren. Standby,” 

The supposedly blue sword, now looked silver and shot from her side to hover in the air between the two sofas, its razor-sharp tip aimed directly at Olomyar’s throat. It hummed with contained holy energy.

Olomyar froze, he slowly raised his palms in a gesture of surrender.

“Good choice,” 

She stood up, brushing pastry crumbs from her skirt. “Now, where will I be sleeping for the day?”

Destrian, eager to de-escalate, answered quickly. “Ah, yes. Just ask Quartermaster Zebril. I am certain she has already prepared quarters for you.”

“Okay,” Anna said, and with a final, dismissive glance at the two most powerful knights in the capital, she turned and walked out the door.

Now why are you silver all of a sudden?

“Mnaaa, I just thought it would be cool! They’re a knight, I don’t want to get find out that I’m Ars Maren…”

Anna nods, You’re smart for once. Fine then, you shall use your silver form when I’m a honorable knight of Minilon.

Outside, waiting patiently was Jarce. He looked up as she approached, a small, worried but welcoming smile on his face.

Anna found herself smiling back.

Maybe he isn’t really that bad of a person after all.

Jarce straightened up as she approached, his face a mixture of relief and nervousness.

“I need to find Quartermaster Zebril,” Anna said instantly.

“Ah, yes! Of course you would ask that,” Jarce stammered, his awkwardness returning in full force. “Her office is in the logistics wing. I can... I can take you there.”

“Show me the way then, Alcohol boy.”

As they began to walk, an oddly comfortable silence fell between them. 

It was Jarce, ever the charming trying to connect, who broke it first.

“I overheard your last conversation… You were incredible back there, with the Vice-Captain,” he said full of awe. “I've never seen anyone stand up to him like that. I've been a full knight for a year now, and I still find him intimidating.”

“A year?” Anna glanced at him. “You look young to be a full knight.”

Jarce puffed out his chest with a hint of pride. “I started my training early. It's all I've ever wanted to do since little, even though I'm only seventeen.”

Anna stopped dead in her tracks. Her mind, which had just processed assassination attempts and state secrets, completely blanked.

Seventeen? He was younger than her. This earnest, capable, giant of a knight who had carried her from the woods was just a boy.

“Huh,” was all she could manage.

Jarce looked at her, confused. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she starting to walk again.

 “It's just... I'm eighteen.”

Now it was Jarce's turn to be shocked. “Eighteen?! I thought... I thought you were younger than me!.”

“I'll take that as a compliment,” Anna chuckled.

Jarce's face brightened. “You seemed to be in a good mood. You're way easier to talk to now. Before, in the carriage, you were so... prickly.”

Anna tilted her head, genuinely wondering. He was right. The rage she'd felt towards Olomyar had evaporated, and the constant, biting tension that had been her companion since arriving in this world had eased. 

Why?

“It was the cake,” Maren's voice buzzed in her mind. “The honey was infused with a mild calming enchantment... It's quite common here...”

And the blood?

“That was from a Grandium Cow,” Maren explained proudly. 

“They are a special breed raised exclusively for high-ranking vampires and healing medicine for humans. Their blood is known to be far tastier than a human's and has many effect. It stabilizes a vampire's mood and quells the more violent urges.”

Anna gave a small nod of understanding.

“Who are you nodding to?” Jarce asked.

Anna glanced at him,  “My sword, of course,”

 “This silver glow stick is talking to me.”

A furious, high-pitched shriek suddenly erupted from the sword, startlingly audible. “KYAAAAA!! I'M NOT A GLOWING STICK!! I AM ARS MAREN!”

Anna just laughed as she covered her ears. “Yeah, yeah, okay...” she said, shaking her head.

Jarce just stared, his mouth agape, first at the talking sword, then back at Anna. "Really?! That sword is talking?"

"Yeah, I'm not joking..."

“U-Um...,” he breathed out, completely forgetting himself. “You know... when you're calm like this... smiling... you're even more beautiful.”

Anna's smile softened.

“Thank you, Jarce.”

The pleasant atmosphere with Jarce lingered as they found their way to the logistics wing. 

They found Quartermaster Zebril in a room that full of paperwork. She was hunched over a massive ledger, her stern face illuminated by a single flickering candle.

“Captain Zebril?” Jarce said softly.

Zebril looked up, “What is it, Sir Jarce? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Apologies, Captain,” Anna spoke up, stepping forward. 

“I will be staying in the barracks until my business with the Captains is concluded. I require a place to rest for the day. Destrian told me to ask you.”

Zebril’s eye twitched. 

She slammed the heavy ledger shut with a loud thud. “I haven’t slept in two days,” she growled in her mind. Then her frustration found its target, “That Olomyar and Destrian!” she snarled, grabbing a stack of requisition forms and throwing them onto an already overflowing pile.

“They make grand promises to a girl and expect me to magically conjure a room out of thin air!”

Jarce, ever eager to help, stepped forward. “I can prepare a place for her, Captain! I’ll make sure it’s clean and secure!”

Zebril shot him a glare, “Boy, you don’t understand what a girl needs!” she snapped. “You’d probably give her a rough wool blanket and call it a day. Get out. I’ll handle this.”

Without another word, she rounded the desk and grabbed Anna’s hand. She began dragging a very unresisting Anna out of the office.

“Well, see you later, Jarce,” Anna said pleasantly, offering the him a small wave as she was pulled away.

Knights in a barracks typically sleep in communal dormitories. Senior officers like Captains, however, are afforded private, though still modest, quarters.

Having not prepared anything, Zebril marched Anna down a quieter, less-trafficked corridor quite far away from the main gate.

“They see a powerful weapon, they make a deal,” Zebril grumbled, not letting go of Anna’s hand.

“Do they think about proper bedding? Clean water? A door that locks from the inside? No! That’s just ‘Zebril’s problem.’”

This is quite far… where is she taking me…?

She stopped in front of a sturdy wooden door and pushed it open, revealing a small, immaculately clean room. 

It contained a single, neatly made big bed, a simple wooden desk, a washbasin, and a weapon rack holding a well-cared-for set of armor. It was clearly someone’s personal quarters.