“So, you’re the green-as-can-be Lt.”

  Quinten kept his face impassive, letting the irritation it created go. Instead of responding immediately, he remained silent. He held her gaze and created a thin line of Empathy between them.

  This wasn’t the Academy. They had no time for petty squabbles. In his military studies growing up, the only thing that killed more men than the enemy was an Army’s leaders fighting each other.

  With the connection made, Quinten felt her surprise when he didn’t react to her barb.

  “I am. And you are Nell Canton, Battle Mage, and the one responsible for keeping our people safe and the men and women of NRLC alive for the last several weeks.”

  Nell’s eyes widened. The surprise she’d felt a moment earlier, coming back like the tide. Quinten enjoyed the moment, short-lived as it may have been. Almost instantly, her brows drew together and her eyes narrowed.

  The barest hint of a smile touched Quinten's otherwise stoic expression, and he nodded. “Having the Lord Marshal as your grandfather comes with a few benefits. Accurate and up-to-date reports of my future command being one of them.” The smile disappeared as his gaze turned to steel, adding. “He and I both agree. You’ve done the job well. What do you need from me to make sure that continues?”

  Nell went through a range of emotions, suspicion, confusion, back to surprise, and finally, grudgingly, a hint of respect. Quinten waited patiently.

  Rising from the chair. Battle Mage Nell Canton saluted with a slight bow of her head. “I—My apologies, Lieutenant. That was unprofessional. I let my personal feelings get the better of me. When I heard…” she said, trailing off.

  “When you heard that the Lord Marshal’s grandson. A boy of eighteen and recently expelled from the Academy was being sent to take over your unit?” He asked, his raised brow bringing some heat to the woman’s face. It made the whites of her scars stand out along the right side of her jaw.

  “Let’s be clear, BM Canton—I am all of those things, but I would like to think I’m much more.”

  The Battle Mage’s eyes shifted away from him, staring straight ahead as she said. “Understood, sir.”

  Feeling the dynamic shift, Quinten released the thread connecting them. He let himself relax with a genuine smile. “All of that being said. Will you work with me to ensure all of your hard work doesn’t come undone?”

  While her face remained passive, the corners of Nell’s eyes wrinkled just enough to notice.

  “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

  *****

  “We lose either way. If we give chase, a second raiding party makes it through and hits the villages. The times we’ve held our ground, they just went far enough around us.” Shaking her head, the BM sighed in frustration. “Even with this setup, we are still too far apart to block off the north.”

  Quinten frowned at the map laying across the desk. His mind going over the report from Nell. In it, she detailed all raids over the last month, both those they successfully defended and those that made it past them to pillage the closest settlement.

  Staring, he tried to find a pattern, but could find none. There were a few areas that seemed to be a few points of entry that the Drakovians preferred to use. An initial group would get the Rivennan patrol to follow them, opening up the entry or egress point for the second set of raiders.

  What he couldn’t figure out was how they were coordinating the movement.

  “This might be a stupid question, but why haven’t we just built a wall? I know it would be mage intensive, but it’s been months, and working together, they could have had a large portion of the area between forts blocked off already.”

  Pursing her lips, Nell started to speak and then, taking a deep breath, she said. “I expect you’ll find that out at the next officer’s meeting, sir.” Moving to the window, she shifted the blind and checked the angle of the sun. “Something you’ll get to experience in a few hours, but… unless I’m wrong. I believe that our mages just returned from their hunt.”

  While Quinten had read the Discipline and Decorum guide for the Mage Core. He would be the first to admit he was a work in progress when it came to adhering to the rules. Battle Mage Canton, on the other hand, followed them as easily as breathing.

  Leaving building twelve, she immediately fell in one step behind and to his left as Quinten made for the main area just outside of the stables where over one hundred and eighty men, women currently worked to dismount and tend to their horses.

  Stopping just outside of the swell of activity, his gaze swept the area, eyes searching for a hint of his mages. Unfortunately, their brown blended in well with the army green and after a moment, he gave up on the task, instead looking for the Army Lieutenant that’d led them.

  The man saw him first, handing his reins off and heading their way with large, confident steps. The Lt. was massive, so much that Quinten felt sorry for whatever horse had to carry the man and his equipment.

  “You must be Constantine’s replacement. Stars cursed idiot, she was. I’m Lt. Bartel. You can just call me Barty. Everyone does. There’s no point in rank when you’re knee deep in the stank.”

  Quinten barked out a laugh, not quite believing his ears. He fought valiantly to hold back his grin. To remain professional in front of the men and women of the cavalry unit. It was a losing battle, lost entirely when Nell snorted behind him. Letting it spread across his face, Quinten reached out and for once had to crane his neck upwards to meet the man’s gaze.

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  “Lt. Ashford, but my friends call me Q. How was your ride? Is anyone injured?”

  Barty exchanged grips and even though Quinten could tell he wasn’t squeezing hard, a bit of Gift strengthening the forearm kept it from bruising.

  “Men are fine.” Barty said with a wave. “We traded a few arrows with the horse-fuckers, but we couldn’t get close enough for anything more. They are just too fast, even for us.” He said, reaching down to the waterskin tied to his belt, unstoppered the mouth, and frowned at its empty contents.

  Just before he replaced the plug, Quinten condensed a thin stream of water from the air and directed it into the skin. Barty watched as the trickle of water filled the pouch. He took a sip to test it and grunted his appreciation before chugging the whole thing.

  Wiping his mouth, Barty pointed at Quinten with the now empty skin. “Thanks for that. By the stars, does it get dry out there.”

  Smiling, Quinten shrugged. “No trouble. BM Canton was bringing me up to speed when you arrived. I need to meet with my mages, but If you are free this evening, I’d be happy to buy you a drink. You can fill me in on what I need to know about this place.”

  The bear of a man happily accepted the offer, and they parted. His purse growing lighter in fear of how much Barty could drink.

  Quinten's introductions with the six mages attached to NRLC went quickly with Battle Mage Canton facilitating. They were hot, sweaty, and tired from several hours of riding, and he didn’t want to keep them any longer than necessary.

  They accepted his release from duty for the remainder of the day with gratitude. His request to meet with each of them the following day, a cost of doing business.

  “BM Canton, You mentioned an officer’s meeting this evening. Is there anything I need to bring?”

  *****

  Quinten's quarters were on the fourth floor of building twelve. It was too early to tell whether the proximity to his office would be a benefit or not. He had a private room with a window overlooking the main square and the stables. It was similar in furnishings to his room at the Academy, minus a desk, which made the room seem larger. It wasn’t until he started unloading his gear that he realized why.

  Mages in the Core were not typically issued armor. The exception being in the mounted cavalry units. All other assignments would have the mages in the rear working their magic. Doing so as far away from the enemy as they could manage. When you are constantly moving and riding amidst hundreds, the only safety you’ll find is in numbers.

  Arranging his trunk to act as a table, Quinten arranged everything in what he hoped would be an easy and efficient manner should he need to don the armor in a hurry. Taking the neatly folded clothes he removed from the trunk, he filled the small dresser placed at the end of his bed.

  Looking down at himself, Quinten frowned at the road dust still coating him. He wasn’t as bad as the men and women just returning from patrol, but he was in no state to meet the Fort Commander and his fellow officers. Thankfully, while he might not have a private bath, at least there was one available for them to use.

  Grabbing his kit, Quinten left his room, closing and locking the door behind him. There were ten rooms on the fourth floor, eight bedrooms, a storage room, and the shared bathroom. Quinten's was the first you saw leaving the stairs, while the bathroom was at the end of the hall, past the remaining bedrooms. It was a large room with three metal tubs arranged along one wall. One tub being occupied had him freezing two steps into the room.

  “…”

  The woman’s eyes opened lazily, and she turned her head slowly, almost leisurely. The steam coming off of her tub speaking to a temperature that Quinten could never have found comfortable.

  She gave him a once over before closing her eyes and settling back into her bath. “New cavalry Lt. or are you lost?”

  “A bit of both, to be honest.” Quinten said, still rooted in place. “Is—should I?”

  “Do as you please. You’ll get no protest from me.”

  Quietly, Quinten crossed to the far side of the room. He gave the woman one more quick glance to take in her appearance. Long walnut-colored hair framed a delicate face. She had full lips that somehow managed to compliment her too large nose that hung over them, almost like a shelf. The pale skin of her neck was offset by the sun-kissed tan on her cheeks.

  Turning away, he set his kit down on the low bench conveniently placed beside the tub. There was a stand attached to the bench that he hung his outer-robe from. Turning to the tub, there was no obvious way to fill it and Quinten was too embarrassed to ask, so he used his Gift to condense water from the air. He pulled in moisture from the open window when the room grew dry and the tub quickly filled. The cold water enveloped his finger before it started to warm. The liquid slowly rotating to spread the heat evenly.

  When it reached his preferred temperature, Quinten stood up and removed his shirt, folding it neatly. He did the same with his pants, stacking one atop the other. He turned, preparing to remove his small clothes, when he heard.

  “It’s always interesting. How someone works out a problem on their own rather than asking for help.”

  Heat travelled to Quinten's ears as he twisted to look over his shoulder. The woman was in the same position, eyes shut and languidly sunken into the water. The only difference being the smile on her face.

  Pushing his only remaining clothing to the floor, Quinten spun on the lip of metal and slid into the water, its warmth immediately attacking the aches caused by days on the road.

  Closing his eyes, Quinten relaxed, the water gradually inching up his neck as he went boneless. “I take it there is a way to fill and heat these things for those without Elemental gifts?”

  Water sloshed from her bath, quickly followed by rustling. “Of course. It’s just not nearly as much fun to watch as what you just did. That was an impressive amount of control.” She said. The sound of rough cloth rubbing against wet skin reaching his ears.

  “Thank you. I’m Quinten Ashford, by the way.” Quinten said as he tried not to let the images the sounds created get too distracting.

  “Well met, Quinten Ashford. Lt. Harper Tansin, Core engineer.”

  Quinten's eyes popped open as he sat up. “An engineer! How is it? I always sort of hoped I’d get assigned as an engineer during my service to the Core.”

  Harper opened her own eyes, though they remained narrowed. Surprise and a hint of suspicion coloring her expression.

  “No one wants to be an engineer, we get the shittiest tasks on the worse timelines and—”

  Quinten cut her off before the fire he could see starting, turned into a full blaze. Raising both hands, he said. “I’m sure that’s all true. I’m just saying. Building—creating something that will last—isn’t a bad way to spend a day.”

  Her expression softened. “True, if naive. It’s never that rosy a picture.”

  Thoughts of Darrowford and how his time there soured the experience of repairing its bridge and all the other work that Ronan, Cedric, and he had completed added a bitter ring of truth to her words.

  Quinten felt Harper watching him, and as he turned toward her, she nodded. “Not quite so naive then.”

  In need of a change of subject, Quinten said, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  Taking up her washcloth once more, Harper started scrubbing her arms, saying. “Go for it.”

  “Why haven’t we started on a wall between fortifications yet? I know—” He cut off at the expression on her face and the dripping washcloth raised in threat.

  “If you had any idea how many times I’ve—No. You know what? It doesn’t matter.” She slowly lowered the balled up cloth. Squinting at him, she smiled and her face took on a vulpine cast.

  “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”