The frost was just retreating to its dark home when she first came to the vilge Telfen. The smooth daub buildings and gentle beacons of each building’s hearth were welcoming to Chicory. The sights and sounds still reminded her of home. Though the smells certainly didn’t. A sickly sweet aroma wafted from several of the facilities near the station. The railways had long gone silent, returning to rest at Ungokoro, capital of the Allied Vilges of Pamori. The station in the capital had gleamed with gzed pottery decorating the walls and intricate painted murals. Some shards were smooth mirrors, reflecting and altering her in ways both amusing and terrifying. That was why she came here though, right? To change? To be more? Or is that against the edicts of the council to desire? The Telfen station had been simple. Cy, daub, and scattered debris from the cargo that was shipped to the capital. The dour sight of lightly frosted fields, scattered tools, long shadows, and a portly man yawning out the front door were altogether a less than preferred welcoming.

  Maybe she couldn’t help being bitter. She was named for a bitter flower. Her parents cimed it was a central element to the Eltrice diet, but most people assumed it was just because she was supposed to be pretty. Or maybe she even was pretty. Maybe under all the dirt and sweat there was a face worthy of adorning the paintings in the council halls? Maybe she’d burn that painting herself some day. And maybe that tired man was walking towards her now. She shifted her boots along the small stones worked into the daub of the station’s raised floor. The light scraping sound could be the reason he was looking at her now. Though, he was also a few long strides away now and starting to reach a hand outwards.

  “Hey there, sister, want help with your things? All that metal’s gotta be heavy” he drawled out from beneath a bushy mustache that hid his upper lip.

  “Oh, uhm, yeah. Here, uncle” she mumbled, reaching out her side-bag towards him. It slumped into his calloused hands easily enough, but she saw his forearm muscles strain slightly before he was able to slide the strap over his shoulder.

  “No need for all that. You can call me brother, or better yet call me Enduris.”

  “Nice to meet you Enduris. Are you the head of the shieldbearers here in Telfen?”

  “Why else would I be up at this hour? Surely not to enjoy the frosted air!” He made a low throaty chuckle that sounded halfway to a growl.

  He was tall, taller than Chicory to be sure. He had a good amount of weight on him, which hopefully meant Telfen had done well for themselves these st few years. Surely better than Eltrice. She remembered the shieldbearers nodding off throughout the day’s work from hunger. Their training routines were necessary, but draining, and Chicory feared that Eltrice might fall if a rger than normal pack pushed past the barricades.

  “So unc-Enduris, how long have you been stationed here?” She adjusted her arbalest’s strap nervously against her left shoulder, the cold leather stabbing ice into her skin where her tunic’s neckline started.

  “Oh, something like forty years now. I lost track a long time ago there, sister.”

  “Forty years is quite a long time away from home, do you miss home?”

  “Well yes and no. See, I was born here. Stationed here my whole life. Though I think that’s the perk of starting the local shieldbearers chapter.” He turned to start walking towards the building he had come out of. A slightly leaning building, made of daub like the rest, but with heavy stones lining the walls from the ground up to waist-high.

  “You started this chapter?”

  “Yep. Long time ago. Maybe after you show your usefulness I’ll even tell you the story.”

  “I sure hope I can be useful. I was pretty good back home when it came to fixing up some of the tech scraps.”

  “Sounds like fun, little flower.”

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  “Well, you never deigned to give me your name, midy” he made a slightly strained bow towards her as the bag weighed his side down. Blushing, and cursing herself for forgetting to make a good first impression, Chicory said ftly “My name is Chicory. Yes it’s a flower. Please don’t call me a flower. I don’t even like flowers”

  “Ah, why the name then? Couldn’t think of anything you liked better?”

  “No. My parents-”

  “Ah. Right. Here in Telfen we pick our names. You Eltricians don’t do that?”

  “No, never.”

  “Shame. Maybe you can give it a try sometime? I could call you something like Badger or Fellspawn”

  “Those sound like terrible names.”

  “Well they belonged to some close friends so best you keep those thoughts to yourself.”

  I’m doing such a horrible job of making a good impression. She thought to herself, horrified at what her life might end up like now. The shieldbearer’s head was effectively her warden until the council said otherwise. And she was just a name on a long list of shieldbearers across the AVP. She was no-one. Far from her Eltrician roots, where her family was well respected and sought out for support when times of struggle came.

  “What am I to do today?”

  “Well,” he clutched the back of his neck, rubbing at long aching muscles, “I figured you’d like to get adjusted to your quarters, your teammates, and maybe a few people that you’ll need to know.”

  “Ah. That would make a good amount of sense.”

  “Unless you wanna start at the distillery,” he gestured towards a rger building close to the station. It was outfitted with several chimneys which billowed a trail of smoke. No doubt keeping the facility warm was an issue all winter. She wondered where the fuel was derived from. The treeline in the distance suggested access to lumber, but with how close the trees were to the buildings, she couldn’t imagine that was it.

  “It sure is a lot at first. But don’t worry, before you know it we all will be able to ‘thrive together’,” he ughed to himself like he had told a clever joke. Chicory clutched her arbalest tightly, hoping its chilled wooden body could transport her somewhere else. The walk over to the main building Enduris had come from was fairly short. She felt the fringes of frost biting at her neck and face, as well as her legs where she had foolishly chosen to wear her lighter stockings.

  Once inside Chicory was able to see the scattered dishes, garbage, and tools that no doubt the residents used frequently. She untched her arbalest and slid it into the weapons rack stationed on the floor by the door. A crudely painted sign above the rack insisted, “Never forget your weapon!” Her arbalest was slightly out of pce given the remainder of the rack’s occupants of gleaming sharp metal implements. A single buckler sat at the far end guarding the rest from drafts and from being easily sighted from down the hall. A line of three doors along one side, then one door at the end. The left side had a window part way between the first and second closest doors. The two farthest doors each had some decorations adorning the dark wood. Chicory couldn’t quite make out the thick and tall yellow flower, painted as though the head of it was the sun itself. She simply saw the thick yellows and greens.

  “Admiring your cohort’s handiwork? Quite a surprising fellow he is.”

  “Cohort? I’m not the only new one?”

  Enduris hung his dark brown fur-lined cloak onto one hook of several in a row astride the right side from the entryway.

  “Of course not. Now come on out of the muck room already,” he doffed his boots quickly and waddled over into a sparse kitchenette area, likely a combination kitchen and dining room given the table with long off-kilter benches. He pulled a stained copper kettle out of the cupboards and began starting a fire in the wood-stove. The hearth was on the opposite side, roaring heat out across the room, spshing against Chicory’s face and coloring her cheeks a deep red. She could tell from the logs charring at the bottom, soft warm browns on the top, the fire was set alight shortly before she arrived. A kindness of her new warden.

  She unced her boots, peeling the soft furs away from where they kissed her legs. She wondered if those boots were the only soft thing she would enjoy for the next few years. Perhaps an animal pelt could yield simir softness, but catching rabbits was more trouble than the comfort was worth. She kept her footwraps on to protect herself from the rough flooring. And from the chill that no doubt persisted against the onsught of radiant warmth along the flooring. She saw stones making up the primary material of flooring, stones varying in size from fist sized down to grit barely considered sand. Stone and cy and dirt and muck, homely.

  “Enjoying the floor that much? I’ve got a broom if you’d like,” Enduris tried and failed to stifle a chuckle.

  “Simply acquainting myself with my new home, uncle.”

  “Fair enough, do be sure to also acquaint yourself with things like this delightful kitchen,” he gestured at the kitchenette and cupboards, “You’ll find hunger is less than pleasant.”

  In protest, the kettle began to wail , spewing scalding steam up against a slightly curved cupboard door. Enduris grunted as he raised himself to tend to the kettle and gather the box of dried leaves. Chicory stepped hesitantly up into the home. Crossing the threshold she was raised to respect. Knowing it was not a transgression that could be undone, or easily forgotten.

  “Are ya always this slow? Or just tired? The tea would help with the tter, but for the former we’d need a lot of training,” Enduris called from the kitchen, back turned to Chicory as he poured the boiling water into a pot. A pleasant aroma of earthy bitterness spread throughout the room, melding with the scent of fire, wood, and ash. He turned, carrying an ornate teapot that leaked a gentle trail of steam, home. Like the trails of the hearths Chicory had seen on the way in, the same trails she gazed on for the st time from the train car’s window. A hearth, a home, tea, and perhaps a new friend.