Media: Ales [ It's pretty close, except that Ales has a stronger jawline, but their hair is equally majestic ]

Music: Pilgrims on a Long Journey, Child of Light

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Cadence's head jerked up. She hastily wiped her mouth with the hem of her shirt to remove any traces of vomit, threw a towel over the basin and leaped onto her bed.

"Come in," she said, angry at herself to allow so much tremor in her voice.

There was the sound of cutlery dropping, followed by someone swearing. The door opened and a girl poked her head in.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. Cadence stared at her. She looked about Cadence's age, and clearly wasn't Moskavan. No Moskavan had features so delicate, braided hair so dark and skin a polished bronze.

"Not really." Her stomach threatened upheaval at the thought of food.

"Too bad." The girl held the door ajar with her hip as she entered the room with a tray. "Kesatria Sanrovo asked me to deliver this from the kitchen to ya. Ya Cadence, right?"

Cadence nodded and hopped off the bed to receive the tray from the girl. Years of servitude made her felt awkward to receive similar treatment from another person. Lifting the lid, she was surprised to see a generous helping of mashed potatoes, baked beans, carrots, and a loaf of bread with cracked crust. The tantalizing aroma of the hot food filled the room. They even gave her sweet tea.

"I'm Misha," the girl said. "From the Rookie division. Kesatria Sanrovo told me ya the sudden addition to our batch."

"Hmm." Although Misha was overwhelmingly friendly, Cadence didn't feel like pouring out her life story to her just yet. She tried to smile at the silly grin Misha wore, but the smile wouldn't come.

"Why the sudden draft?" Misha asked. "It's not usual for someone to be admitted into the army after the applications have closed. Ya look tired, ya been sleeping well? Ya going to need all the sleep you can get because the training routines they're pulling us through is brutal."

"I have my own reasons," Cadence said. "I'm sorry if I'm being rude, I've had a few very bad days."

"I feel ya. Before I moved to Moskava, my family were escaping the Savis, that was a very bad few months for me. Then Ayah managed to get us on a ship that was heading to Moskava, that was of course before those damn pirates decided to snitch people from your beaches. Now I can't go ten feet within any Moskavan without being treated like I'm about to explode."

"You were escaping the Savis?" Cadence was impressed. Savis were the ruthless rulers of Lekhobar, the enemy across the Savage Seas. It was a nation where slavery was blended into the folds of their culture and economy, much like the old Moskava. For Misha and her family to escape the scrutiny of the Savis, it was a feat worth bragging.

"That's in the past, though." Crawling to Cadence's side, Misha sat beside her. "I'm part of Moskavan's army now. Maybe in the future, I can be a real Moskavan."

"If I remember correctly, you have to serve for a minimum of ten years before the Council would consider your application."

Misha nodded. "Note 'consider'. I think I need to achieve some outstanding feat during my draft in order to heighten my chances of becoming a Moskavan citizen. Kill an Ancient, murder me some homeland bastards, ya know, the usual."

Cadence flinched at the mention of bastards.

"May the Dewas guide you, then," she said quietly. "I think you're worthy."

Misha beamed. "Ya think so?"

"Not many would lay down their life for another country. I mean, I didn't come here because I wanted to serve the nation. I came here because of my brother."

Misha sighed. "We all still have our own reasons, don't we? A reason behind a reason, no one knows except us. I could stay in Lekhobar, marry some rich man and raise my own family, but I didn't want such a shallow life. Children are terrifying, and so are husbands. Ya wouldn't believe the stupendous amount of pressure my family placed on me to settle down, make dozens of babies, they even agreed to pay a handsome dowry."

Realizing she had said too much, Misha rubbed her eyes. "I'm sorry of things got a bit too personal. Feathers said I blurt things out without thinking. I can't help it. It's like every time I see someone new, I just got to communicate with them. I don't have siblings, ya see, so I try to make as many friends as possible."

"It's alright." Cadence gave Misha one of her reassuring smiles, the ones she would give Cole whenever he got restless over rent. A small pull of her mouth muscles and the barest show of teeth.

"Anyways," Misha said. "I went off topic. Kesatria Sanrovo assigned me to guide ya in classes. A Kesatria will still be ya mentor, but he or she won't be able to stick by ya side all day. They have their duties and fancy Kesatria magic to perform. I, however, will be able to shadow ya until ya decide to kick me out or kill me, whichever comes first."

"That's disturbing," Cadence commented.

"Right." Misha lifted a thick eyebrow. "Mock at me now, whatever ya name is. I shall make ya stay here like he-"

"It's Cadence," Cadence said. "My name is Cadence."

"Such a Moskavan name." Misha huffed. "No wonder I couldn't remember it."

"You'll get used to it, once you get the stamp of approval from the Council."

Misha huffed again.

"Misha," Cadence said. "Is there any way we get to mingle with the Right Order?"

"Why would ya want to mingle with those high and mighty bastards? Ya better off making friends with the Left Order, Saudri."

"My brother is Varya," Cadence said. "I just want to know if I will see him again."

Misha scratched her chin. "We share physical combat training, two hours every day. The rest of the time both Orders are segregated."

"Even during mealtimes and free time?" Cadence continued desperately.

"Different schedules," Misha said. "For a good reason. New Varya and Murka recruits were once placed together in the same unit, but things got out of hand so badly, a Murka was killed. Ever since then, the Kesatria have made it their sacred duty to keep us segregated."

"What happened?"

"Many years ago, according to Arik, a Varya accused a Murka of stealing another's Affinity."

"That's ridiculous," Cadence said. "You can't steal Affinities. It's something you're born with."

"The boy was a Varya bastard who gained his powers very late. The noble born Varya was convinced that the bastard stole someone else's Affinity through dark magic and slit his throat in the middle of the night."

The Lekhobarian girl made the story sound more cheerful than it actually was. Cadence found herself praying for her brother's safely.

Misha patted the tray Cadence had set down on the dresser. "I need to get back to the Murka quarters. Ya assigned Kesatria will check on ya in the morning. Get some sleep, ya look like shit."

Cadence's hand automatically felt for her face.

The Lekhobarian girl saluted her. "See ya in the morning. You have so much to catch up on."

Before she left, she pointed a condescending finger at the tray. "Eat."

The door closed. Cadence sat cross-legged on the bed and balanced the tray on her lap. The smell of food suddenly seemed sour, like meat left out in the air for too long and had rotted. Bile rose again. She flung the tray aside, knocking over the pitcher of sweet tea and spilling its contents onto the carpet.

Cadence pressed down the pillow on both sides of her head, trying to snuff out her sudden headache. Her stomach was on fire, its savage heat spreading all over her torso and burning her throat. She curled up into a ball, squeezing the sheets with her clammy heads, feeling her cold sweat sink into the soft material.

When she was sick and had no money for medicine, she would try to squeeze out the pain or force herself to sleep. Hopefully, in the morning, it would be gone. Cadence did just that. She pressed down on her stomach hard and thought of her home.

She remembered the heat radiating from the old stove in their kitchen, the smell of the bubbling carrot soup Cole loved to cook, and probably was the only dish he knew how to do since it was easy to prepare and carrots were the cheapest food sold in the market. She heard her father's soft coughing and the familiar gurgling of phlegm. Cadence allowed herself to be swept into her memories, lifting her from this foreign and into a place called home.