Travel

"That'll be 3 brawn," Xiao scoffs and leans over the counter to grab the seller by the collar. "You staimnad are some greedy bastards you know that? I know for a fact that at most this knife is worth 1 brawn."

"Price went up, too many thieves in this area." The seller glares at her suspiciously. "Listen up old man, you're gonna give me this knife for one brawn or I'm gonna take it for none." His eyes widen with fury. She releases him and shuffles around in her boot for a small coin pouch. The transaction is completed brashly and Xiao leaves.

Flipping around her new butterfly knife she walks with wide, manly, steps. Fishermen give her a wary eye as she passes them. The salty air feels refreshing this close to the ocean. Xiao's short hair sways, revealing her auburn gaze.

Staimnad is busy this time of year; The ports constantly in flux with trade and merchants from the other cities. The difference between staimnad and serasok is quite obvious to xiao. She's traveled to staimnad before when Guo had needed something, but every time she remains amazed that these people still lay at the bottom rung of society. Their clothes are well made, their coin bag's full. She wonders what kind of greed or privilege could lead a person to need more than this. It seemed like they had everything; a safe city, full bellies, a certain future. All things she yearned for, things she must struggle for her entire life.

She struts far enough away from the bustle to find an alleyway free of homeless people and properly shaded. She looks from side to side, making sure she is alone before she takes off her trousers and drapes them over the trashcan in front of her. Looking down at her wound, dried blood has left a long streak going down to her knee. She takes the wrap she acquired earlier and tightly rings it around her thigh, tying it off with a knot. Cursing in pain as she does so.

She stays, alone and cold in this alleyway until morning. Relinquishing in rare moments of sleep. She wakes up fully alert at exactly four A.M., her natural instinct taking over.

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The trip to the southwest gate is exhausting, her injury starts to take its toll. She can only pray that it'll heal by the time their journey to the training camp is over. Before joining the group she shows proof of admission to the Guard leading the journey. When that is finished she has time to look around. A group of around thirty men surrounds her, mainly aged in their early teens, the oldest of the bunch only having the first of his grey hairs starting to appear. They all stand unnaturally and guarded around each other, checking their supplies and fiddling with their equipment. Some of the men, choosing to try and assert their dominance in their own way, lean against the covered wagons and carefully eye the newcomers; exuding an air of superiority as they do. Suspicion and hostility begin to brew amongst the young men. In an alternative world, where warfare was based around comradery instead of individual achievements, this wouldn't be our reality.

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The Journey lasts 5 days. Each horse-drawn wagon is packed with seven to ten men; she isn't able to check her wound during this time with so many eyes on her. The only thing she does know about it is that it's swollen and tender. Not being able to change her bandage puts her at risk of infection and scabbing proves impossible without letting the wound air out. Out of food and stir crazy, Xiao is glad to be done with traveling. She worries about her wound and how it will impact her training. No medical help was offered by the government despite it being a sanctioned match. To make matters worse, if this injury were to make her fall behind in training she runs the risk of being cut.

Jumping out of the cart, she catches sight of the camp for the very first time. Cascading hills of long grass surround them in the valley on both sides. She stands still, breath-taken by nature's beauty. yet, white tents freckle the landscape, and Campfires create dark pillars in the sky. She thinks it's odd for all this beauty to be tainted by humans, loathing brews in her stomach.

A soldier is there to sort her and instructs her to go to a tent on the east corner of the camp. Trudging along, she's met with a variety of smells, the sound of weapons clanging, and the feeling of her boots sinking further and further into the mud. She's taken aback by the laughs and shouts around her, joy feeling out of place in this future warzone.