Outside, the air was humid, and most living things still slumbered under the tired blue morning sky. Kestrel had picked out a pair of tall cuffed boots that had been lying by the doorway just as Morg had told him. There had been a dozen boots of varying size and shape--more than he cared to count. Even though he typically preferred short, slim shoes, he reckoned that the taller the boots, the less grime and dirt would get inside. Hedgelen was rather muddy this time of year.
Kestrel passed a couple of clotheslines, mostly barren save for a few towels and rags swaying in the wind. His cloak and his academy button-up vest swayed gently there as well. The silver insignia of the vest was glimmering in the cool morning light. Such novelties were not going to get him far here. He grazed over his new tunic with his fingertips--the material was rough but soft, and rather warm. A worker's cloth.
He stepped down a small stairway of stone leading down from the terrace that separated the street from the infirmary. Small bushes were growing along the terrace, red flowers sprouting meagerly from each. Walking down the wet cobbled road, he looked at the rows of houses that almost seemed to sprout from the earth itself. Each house was supported by thin wooden joists, with brick of stone reinforcing the bottom. It varied by house, but the walls seemed to be made up of clay, cob, slate, or some other variety of materials. Many houses Kestrel passed seemed to be out of use, doors removed from their hinges or cobwebs covering entire windows. Greenery sprouted wildly from nooks and crannies--it seemed gardeners were not in high demand these days.
A crow cawed up above as Kestrel entered the town square. It was modest in size and rather empty. Crooked stalls were set up around the area, their wooden boards worn by the weather. An ornate fountain of stone marked the center of the square, but it had long since run dry. Faded banners depicting the sigil of the Sacred Light hung from some of the window sills, their flapping undetermined in the gentle breeze. The wind picked slightly, carrying with it the distant aroma of baked bread.
An older woman dressed in an oversized brown frock swept wet leaves off the ground. She had already piled up multiple drenched piles of leaves. She looked up at Kestrel, who wandered silently in this town of memories. This shadow of Hedgelen resembled nothing of the bustling border town he had once visited. The woman kept sweeping, and Kestrel kept walking.
A large hanging sign of wood by a house much grander than any of the others caught his attention. It depicted in burnt markings a cup overflowing with ale. Tracing the image in elegant letters, it read, 'The Brimming Cup'. Kestrel's stomach churned so violently that it felt as if his stomach was turning itself into a knot. It was time for breakfast. It was time to meet Eyleen.
He climbed up the warped wooden stairs and creaked open the large double doors. The smell of indoors hit him like a wall as he left the fresh outside breeze. Before him was laid out a wide hall filled with empty tables and chairs, save for one man in half-armor splayed out on a round table, sleeping. The inside was far more well preserved than the outside--it was neat and clean. The tall ceiling was supported by a multitude of iron-plated wooden pillars, joists, and beams that were built at different elevations. Two sets of steep stairs at opposite edges of the hall led up to a second floor, and he expected that they'd surely continue to a third and a fourth.
From the far end of the hall swung open a door from the outside, and in came two people--the man in rags and tool belts he'd spotted earlier, and a tall woman on the rounder side dressed in a red gown and a stained white apron, both carrying large burlap sacks as they stomped their way inside. The woman had her brown hair tied up in a bun, and a checkered kerchief wrapped around her forehead. She spotted Kestrel standing idly by the door and their eyes met. Kestrel shuffled awkwardly in place.
"Hey, you! Good timing! We needed an extra hand!" said the woman. "The sacks are just out the door in the wheelbarrow!"
Kestrel strolled slowly towards those two, who both went into a room behind a stone counter. His feet were unsure in their steps, because he didn't feel like he belonged here. What surprised him the most was that they so quickly took him for one of their own. The woman came back briskly out the door she had just entered and turned her attention towards Kestrel again, before waving her arm in an inviting motion.
"Come on then, no time for loitering around! We're already late as it is!"
Kestrel's legs regained their life and carried him forward out the door, back outside to where the wheelbarrow full of large burlap sacks was. He walked up to the wheelbarrow--its frame, like the market stalls, had been warped by the elements. Going around to the open end of it, he jammed his thin fingers underneath the first bag he saw and heaved--it was immensely heavy, and unintuitive to carry. It felt like there were many tiny rocks inside it. Perhaps they were constructing something. The large lady beside him easily hoisted one of the bags, its contents more full than that of Kestrel's bag.
"Don't you just gotta love potatoes?" said the woman, smiling at Kestrel, who struggled to keep his balance.
Kestrel walked inside with heavy and unstable steps, almost stumbling on the threshold as the contents of the bags shifted aggressively in his cradle. He managed to make his way past the stone counter and into a kitchen, during which the two others had passed him by multiple times, where he put down his burlap sack among the rest. The woman came in with the largest sack yet and dropped it just by Kestrel's side.
"That'd be the last one!" said the woman, wiping sweat from her face with a raggedy towel. "Thanks for your help!"
"No worries, I wasn't really..." muttered Kestrel.
"Oh and, if you were looking for breakfast, I'll be preparing it now. We're a bit late this morning. Sorry about that," she said. "Hey, get the oven roaring hot, would you Porter?"
"Aye," said the bearded man in rags, whose name was Porter.
"Also, I just noticed that I haven't noticed your face before," said the woman, inspecting Kestrel's relatively small frame. "I'm Lorma. This is Porter. You're new blood, I suppose. Are you one of the recruits who were due to arrive last night? I heard that wain was delayed."
Kestrel's heart sank. "Most of them didn't make it..."
"Oh, oh that's terrible," said Lorma. "I'm sorry for making you remember that. I don't know what happened but the look in your eyes. You must've gone to hell and back."
"Oh, no... I mean, I'm not..." said Kestrel, his words not being strung together as he'd like.
"No, that's alright. Forget about it. You're here and that's what matters. Hey," said Lorma, placing her large hands on Kestrel's shoulders. "You're alive. You're alive in the Swarth. The Light shines on you. It does. I'm sure you've got your reasons to be here. We all do. Keep that chin up, alright? I'll make you the biggest breakfast you've ever had in your life. Go sit down in the cafeteria and relax. It'll take a while, so feel free to doze off."
"I'd be glad to eat. I'm really hungry, but I'm also looking for someone," said Kestrel.
"Oh, who might that be?" asked Lorma.
"Her name is Eyleen."
"Right, oh yes I remember. The blonde one with the long hair and a glint in her eye. Yes, she came in last night, dead tired. Poor lass looked like she was going to collapse right then and there."
"Is she here?" asked Kestrel.
Lorma put her hands to her hips. "She stayed here for the night, but she left early in the morn. Oh and, I did ask her where she was going. Said she was going for a stroll she was. 'A morning walk'. If you ask me, I think she would've been wiser staying in bed, the way she looked!"
"I have to go meet her," said Kestrel, turning to leave.
"She can't have wandered far! Oh and, when you do meet her, tell her to come eat breakfast!" called Lorma. "Also, I didn't catch your name?"
Kestrel looked back towards Lorma before walking out of the kitchen. "Kestrel."