The die, accompanied by a rousing cheer and the flicker of light as the man holding the candle shifted to get a closer look, fell onto the table with a clatter.
The man who'd thrown it, a soldier from northern Forinthry with intimidating muscles and a scar just atop one eye, grinned as he saw the result. "Six," he half-belched. "Six!" He raised his mug, full of beer, and downed it in what appeared to be one go.
It was nighttime. The camp at Silvarea had fallen into darkness, but none of its inhabitants had gone to sleep. Ali the Wise, who was used to more discipline in the land from where he'd come, would laugh to himself about this every night.
The men, and one woman, who surrounded him now weren't really sure how or why the Menaphite stranger had appeared in their midst, but they liked him. He was quiet, and frailer than they were used to in the soldiers they'd encountered before. When he did speak, it was mildly and usually only to call out his number.
There was the matter that no one was quite sure where he had come from or how he had made himself a part of their group, but none of them thought too deeply about that.
Wahisietel, for his part, liked them as well. They were rougher than the nobility of Senntisten, but honest, too. They would rather punch you in the face than stab you in the back and devour you to increase their power and status, but in any event he was fairly sure that humans didn't do that sort of thing.
The man who'd thrown the dice now looked at him. It was his turn. "Try'n beat that," he slurred, and slammed Wahisietel on the back. He tensed, but relaxed just as quickly with some effort.
"I will do what I can," he answered smoothly. He took the die in hand and ran it through his fingers absentmindedly before giving it a quick throw onto the table. It skittered wildly and came almost to the edge, coming to rest on the number 2. His mouth quirked upwards as the rest of the table burst into an uproar.
"Sorry, bud," said one of the men once they'd calmed down. "You're on watch."
Wahisietel inclined his head and smiled at him. "I suppose I am."
The group grew quiet as the fire they sat around flickered in the early night air. "I like it when you lose," the woman, Aryn, said as she yawned. "There's never a fight."
"I like the fights," a sullen man named Elias said.
"Well, no one likes you, Elias," the man who first threw the die responded. The rest of the group laughed, and Wahisietel surprised himself by joining.
The humans fell silent again. Wahisietel watched them as they fell harmoniously into separate tasks without a word exchanged between them. Aryn began to carve onto a piece of wood, a pastime she'd told Wahisietel she'd cultivated since she was a child but had given up when she was first called to defend her village. Elias fell onto his back and stared at the stars, while the dice-thrower – Malin, he remembered – busied himself with polishing his sword.
That was a human thing, he supposed. To be silent around people you knew well, to communicate without words or even motion. He wondered how long these humans had known each other, and felt an absurd pang.
"Hey, Ali," Aryn said, leaning forward. "Don't think I ever asked you. You come from Menaphos, yeah? How're they doing?"
The other two humans looked up, and Wahisietel was surprised to see them look anxious to know. It was true that they shared their species with the Menaphites, but they were many hundreds of miles away and technically speaking on opposite sides of the war. He would have expected bloodlust or even disinterest, but worry?
"Not well," he began hesitantly. "Ullek has fallen, and the Menaphites are largely nomadic at this point. Menaphos, as far as I'm aware, still stands."
"Right. Nomadic," Malin said thoughtfully.
"Means they wander about," Aryn said solemnly, turning back to her carving. "When they don't have a home."
"I know what it means!" he snapped.
Silence, again. And then:
"I wonder if there'll be anything left of us," Elias said. "When this is over."
Wahisietel frowned. "Well, Saradomin's forces are quite strong," he said. "If any will survive, it will be us."
"I don't mean Saradomin," he said. "You know. Us." He gestured first around the group, and then at the humans who camped around them. Most of them had gone to sleep, but a few watched them with hawkish eyes, and others laughed and talked in the distance.
The rest of the group nodded. Wahisietel's frown deepened. Other humans? But they were the enemy! He couldn't imagine feeling pity or remorse for a Mahjarrat who sided with Zamorak, nor they for him.
"I see," he said hesitantly.
"Nah, you don't," Aryn said shortly, but not with hostility. "I can tell. Dunno if it's something to do with the Menaphites. I've never met em, but…"
Malin picked up after it became apparent that Aryn wasn't going to continue. "Of course, we would never dare suggest the Icyene are unkind to us," he said. "But it's just…" he looked around at the others for help, but neither spoke, watching him with a strange solemnity that somehow coexisted peacefully with the amusement that tugged the corners of their mouths upward as Malin fumbled for the right words.
"…different," he finished finally.
Wahisietel nodded at this. Different. He could respect different, at least for now, even if he didn't understand it.
From the distance they heard the sound of armor as it rustled in movement. The humans gathered themselves almost as soon the sound appeared in their field of hearing. They didn't stop what they were doing, but they sat straighter, and Aryn carefully hid what she was carving.
The rustling stopped behind him. "Good evening, soldiers," a voice rumbled from behind him.
Wahisietel turned to face the tallest human he had ever met. A Mahjarrat in his natural form would only be taller than him by a small margin. Even from his sitting position, he could tell that the man would tower over him in his human form.
"Good evening, officer," he said respectfully. "It's pleasant weather we're having."
The man eyed Wahisietel with some disdain. "Is it," he said.
"I should say so. I-" Wahisietel stopped when Aryn coughed as loudly as she could. When he turned to face her, he found the other humans standing at attention and staring rigidly forward.
Hastily he scrambled to his feet to face the officer alongside the others. The man gave him a look like a thunderstorm, but didn't comment further. "I trust you'll be going to bed soon."
Wahisietel nodded vigorously. He didn't hear anything from behind him, so he assumed that the others were doing the same.
"Good," he said. "We've got work to do tomorrow." His eyes turned towards Wahisietel. "You. What's your name again?"
"Ali, sir," he said.
"Mm," he replied. "I'm Eksils. I expect you're new here."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I don't know how they do things in the desert, but here you are expected to stand when an officer speaks to you," he said. "I hope we won't have to have this talk again."
With Wahisietel's nod of understanding, the man left, the clinking grower fainter until it at last faded into nothing.
He didn't sit again until he heard the humans do so. "Oh gods," Elias said, and rubbed his eyes. Aryn started to laugh.
"You've got guts," she giggled, a strange sound coming from her. "Gotta give you that. Most people would void their bowels if Eksils talked to them like that."
"Who is he?" Wahisietel asked, feeling a bit sheepish.
"No one knows for sure," Malin said. "He appeared a few weeks ago and just sort of… became an officer. I couldn't imagine him being anything else, and apparently neither could the Icyene."
Wahisietel frowned and stared into the fire. "Don't feel bad," Aryn said kindly. "We get all kinds here. Eksils is a hardass but he understands when someone new slips up."
"Just don't do it again," Malin said.
"Yeah, that."
Wahisietel considered this while the others stretched almost in unison. "Guess we should do as he says," Elias said reluctantly.
"Yeah. Ali, you still good to do the watch?"
"Of course," Wahisietel replied.
"Good." Aryn. She stretched out luxuriously, and the other two watched her with looks Wahisietel wasn't sure he recognized.
With that, they readied themselves for bed. Wahisietel had not had the privilege of seeing humans prepare for sleep. Even when he was on a campaign in the old days, humans had been intensely private about this ritual, sharing it only with people they were especially close to. They had no tent, he realized. He wondered how many other humans made their spaces on the cold ground, and more importantly, which ones were lucky enough to have tents to sleep in.
He waited in the cold air as their breathing grew shallower. It must have been a process of a few minutes, but it felt like he was abruptly left alone. The camp seemed much bigger now, as it did every night since he had come here.
It was funny, he thought. Senntisten had always seemed smaller at night.
Hey all! First off, I wanted to apologize for how short and uneventful this chapter is (especially after how long it took me to put it up, oh god). I mostly wanted to use this chapter to set up Wahisietel's relationship with the human characters in the camp, and once I wrapped up what I wanted to get to it was really difficult to add anything extra without it feeling pointless. I promise Wahisietel's next chapter will be much more action-heavy. (And longer!)
Anyway, I wanted to clarify something that I've been forgetting to clarify for a while now. Some of you may know Palkeera's fate from Dishonour Among Thieves, but I just wanted to make it clear that her fate in this story was decided a long time before that quest came out, and so it will diverge from canon. I just wanted no confusion on that front. :P
I hope you all have a good day, and I'll see you next chapter!