Vhalla waited in line at the cart to return the tent poles. The sun had almost come up—scaring away the storm clouds in the process—and the host was likely to begin their march soon.
“Thanks,” she mumbled to the man loading the cart. Vhalla turned and bumped into a large man with light brown hair. “Sorry,” she muttered, keeping her face down. Vhalla stepped around him to head back to her section of camp when a large hand clasped down on her shoulder.
“Well, don’t you think you’re special, black armor?” he sneered, yanking her back.
Vhalla stumbled. “I said I was sorry.” She looked up at the man in annoyance; this was not the morning to test her patience.
“Really? I didn’t hear you.” He leaned down.
“I’m sorry,” she forced through grit teeth, not wanting to make a scene before the small crowd gathering.
“It’s bad enough we have to deal with the Black Legion at all,” the man grumbled. “Now I’ve to take sass from little girls?”
Vhalla frowned.
An armored arm slung itself around her shoulder, and Vhalla blinked in surprise. “Now, now, don’t take it personally, Vhalla. Grun here hasn’t eaten yet, and he’s really grumpy in the morning,” Daniel said with a grin.
“Come on, Grun,” Craig came up on the other side of the man. “Let’s get some food in that giant gut of yours.”
She hadn’t seen the two soldiers since her trial. They’d been her guards when she was in holding, the good ones. Daniel was an Easterner like her, yellow-tinted tan skin and full-bodied dark brown hair. Craig’s wavy blonde hair and paler complexion marked him as a Southerner. She’d immediately liked both of them, and this morning was one more reason to add to that growing list.
“Eat with us, Vhalla?” Daniel asked.
“I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea.” She glanced over at the large man Craig was escorting away.
“Nonsense!” Craig called, and soon she was being led toward the front of the host.
“What are you two doing here?” she asked Daniel as he removed his arm from her shoulders. Craig took the behemoth a far distance ahead before rejoining them.
“We’re soldiers.” Daniel chuckled, the movement tossing his nearly shoulder-length hair. “I’d say we belong here more than you, Miss Windwalker.”
“You’re not palace guards?” she asked with genuine surprise.
He shook his head and raised up his arm. One of his gauntlets was plated in gold, the metal on his forearm catching the glint of the morning’s light. “We’re Golden Guard,” he explained.
Vhalla had heard of Prince Baldair’s personal squadron before; they were rumored to be the best of the best with only the finest lords and ladies serving among them.
As she focused on his arm he focused on her. “I like your hair; you clean up rather nice.”
She raised a hand to the frayed ends of her hair that barely touched the chainmail hood of her armor. Her hair was awful. Vhalla scowled as a hunk of cold meat was shoved into her palm. It was a little charred on one side and the natural fats had coagulated into a jelly-like film that she scraped off onto the ground as they sat around the still-smoldering remains of a fire.
“I don’t think people like that I’m here.” Other soldiers gave her looks, but none were brave enough to approach with two members of Prince Baldair’s highest order at her sides.
“Don’t you think that’s half the fun?” Craig asked with a small grin.
She shook her head.
“Plus, we look so exotic with our Black Legion friend.” Daniel took a large bite of his meat.
“Where are you both from?” Vhalla asked, picking at her own food.
“The capital,” Craig said, unsurprisingly.
“Cyven,” Daniel announced.
“Where in Cyven?” She was sincerely interested in anyone from the East.
“Most people don’t know it. It’s a small town.” Daniel laughed when he saw the squint she was giving him and proceeded, “It’s called Paca.”
“Paca!” she gasped.
“You know it?” He raised his eyebrows.
“I’m from Leoul.”
“No.” He seemed as excited as she felt.
“Yes! Yes! I went to the Festival of the Sun in Paca every year with my mum and papa.” Vhalla felt the sweet pang of nostalgia.
“With the old lady who sells the candied nuts?” he asked in disbelief.
“And the man who never stopped singing?” Vhalla affirmed.
“Oh Paaaaaaaca, don’t you go astray!” Daniel put his hand to his chest and belted before they both collapsed into a fit of laughter. “You really do know!” He flashed her a dazzling smile that was too infectious not to return.
“Oh, how adorable. You finally have someone who understands your love of farm animals.” Craig’s tease was ignored.
Daniel’s focus was only on Vhalla.
“My family’s farm is about a half day’s ride to the Hot Pot Inn. We’d stay there for the festival,” she explained.