forum 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕞𝕟𝕖𝕕 (Closed rp, 6/6!)

Started March 07, 2023 by @ScotchTapeWorm group

tune

(hope this is ok)

Name: Franklyn Vale
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Sexuality: As far as he knows, straight.
Physical Appearance: Franklyn stands about 5'6, weighs in at around 130lbs. He's thin, with straight brown hair that is constantly in his eyes. He's a pale Caucasian with perfect skin. Small hands with slender fingers give him a delicate appearance, and his large hazel eyes make him look perpetually wide-eyed.
Clothing: He can typically be found wearing brown leather, the same type found on metal workers across the country. Boots, breeches, a white tunic under the brown leather poncho he wears, and goggles. In combat, he adds iron bracers that cover his wrists and the backs of his hands.
Personality: Franklyn is a generally quiet individual, unless you get him talking about a topic he loves. He's incredibly intelligent (nigh genius), particularly for his age, and often has trouble relating to his peers. However, he's a gentle soul with a warm and kind disposition, and would rather be helping people than harming. The war has been incredibly hard on him, and if not for his family, he wouldn't still be alive.
Powers: Franklyn is a fire mage. He can create and control fire of all kinds. He is also something akin to a technomancer. His mastery of gadgets and machines (think steampunk) has enabled him to build automatons and war machines for the rebellion. He is a master metal worker, his power with fire allowing him to forge and shape metal with his bare hands.
Preferred fighting style: Franklyn would prefer not to fight at all, but if he must, he's a living flamethrower. He's able to melt enemy weapons and armor with ease, and has a small army of machine allies and lethal gadgets on him at all times.
Conditions: Franklyn is a generally frail individual. He is sick often, and has struggled badly with his mental health. As such, his energy is often lacking, and his brilliance is dimmed by the depression fog.
Backstory/History: Franklyn doesn't often talk about his life before becoming a Vale, but his siblings are known by leadership. Franklyn, Romulus, Ronnie&Ronni, Valiel, and Lucky make up the Vale family; they aren't related, other than having adopted each other out of the gutters. Joining the rebellion was a given, as each of them had been screwed over by the Crown in a different way.

Other: Franklyn is loyal to the cause, but he's loyal to his siblings first. Their safety is paramount to him.
Romulus is a hulking foot soldier, all muscle and loud, boisterous personality. 6'6" of solid muscle makes a difference on the battlefield.
Ronnie is a quiet dead shot archer, serving with the Shadows. A soldier who never misses, even at impossible distances, is a valuable asset.
Ronni is a maimed and mute sister, able to move silently and unnoticed even at high noon, also serving with the Shadows. Anyone gifted with wings and flight is a gift to an Intelligence division.
Valiel is a shapeshifting sister serving as a medic. A doctor who can give the best empathy and help to her patients by assuming a form that is comforting to them, she's responsible for keeping plenty of people alive and in good spirits.
Lucky is a cavalry rider, riding Sinjoro his horse with high skill. It doesn't hurt that boy and horse are telepathic, able to read each other's thoughts and the thoughts of the animals around them with ease.
And Franklyn watches out for all of them, with gadgets and upgraded armor.

The battle had gone well.
As well as a battle could.
A light skirmish by most measures, leaving only a few casualties on their side, while they'd been able to repel the invading army.
What was concerning was that they knew where they were. The rebel army had no concrete base of operations, constantly shifting and moving to hide their location. It let them strike quickly and with surprise and avoid large scale battles with large scale casualties. Their forces were thin enough as is, they couldn't afford to throw lives away.

The battle had been quick and decisive, and their abandonment of their campsite even more so. The tents were being folded up, supplies loaded onto carts, and the soldiers preparing their things to go. The bustle and noise of the camp was familiar and welcoming to those who knew it. A horse neighed in the distance, and the smell of smoke was thick in the air. The enemy had been able to burn a handful of tents before they'd ran.

The encampment was large, but only one section of the rebellion as a whole. The leaders of the different small armies communicated to this one, where orders were sent out and movements planned. They were nearing the capital and the fighting was getting fierce. It was also getting harder and harder to hide. A man in armor briefly wondered if they'd ever look on battles like this fondly as they got into bloodier ones.

The general stood in his command tent, a large leather tent, with a table in the middle. He had papers covering it, with maps and plans and musings. The room was mostly bare otherwise, a few chairs for those who wished to sit and a smaller table with a pitcher of water for those who wished to drink. Otherwise the spartan layout matched the man standing in the middle, arms held behind his back, leaning over the table to look at something. A report of the battle from his intelligence division, they were spread the most thin and worked the hardest. The report was good, and Kerrim made a note to send commendation to the author of it. The facts were layed out neatly and with clarity, giving him a birds eye view of what had happened.

Two dead, four injured, one soldier unfit to fight from burns and smoke inhalation. The general frowned, a heavy weight settling on him. The camp was moving as quickly as they could, but they needed to be better prepared for next time.

He walked over to the entrance of the tent, brushing aside the opening flap with his arm and nodding at the two soldiers standing at attention outside, spears at the ready. He waved down a young soldier, sweating heavily from pulling a cart. Kerrim gave him some water and a order.

A list of people really. They needed to have a strategy meeting. All hands, and minds, on deck.
The general had an eclectic circle of people. He didn't go based on rank or position, the rebel army was not yet so organized, despite their years of fighting. He wanted several voices, as many opinions as he could from different branches to make his decisions, from the common soldier to the strangest tinkerer.

The general went back to his table and stood waiting for everyone to gather. They were busy with their movements themselves he was sure. But the needs of the many came before the needs of the few.

Kendra used to hate the idea of war. Her father used to sing about it, warning of the destruction and chaos that it caused. She would’ve never imagined that she would be here, involved in a war effort and a rebellion against her own country. Despite his hate for war, Kendra couldn’t help but think that her father would be proud of her. She was standing up for what she believed in, after all, and she was using her magic for the good of humanity.

Kendra was in the medical tent, trying to ease the pain of some of the soldiers, when the order went out for a meeting. While she was powerful enough to heal minor wounds and injuries, she still wasn’t capable of healing more critical ones. The dead bodies littering the field were a constant reminder of that.

After she finished up with her last patient, Kendra gathered up her supplies and hurried across the camp. She stopped by the mess hall first, gathering food for whoever came to the meeting. She knew how little the soldiers took care of themselves after battles, and she wanted to make sure that they were in the best shape for the days to come.

It wasn’t long until she had arrived at the general’s tent, and she exchanged a few kind words with the men outside before making her way in. She placed her basket on the table before nodding at her general. At first, she wasn’t sure how she felt about such a young man being in control of such a large army, but he had proved to her time and time again how capable he could be.

“You look like you’ve been busy, General.” She sent him a smile before walking around the table, looking down at the papers. “It’s good to see. We have a long few days ahead of us…”

She picked up one of the maps, the feel of it familiar in her hands. She used to travel the country with her father long before the war ever began. Gods, how she missed those days.

Franklyn woke up with a groan. His body ached and his head was pounding. Someone was leaning over him, shaking him gently.
"Franky? Wake up, the general is asking for you." Valiel's voice was gentle, but insistent. Franklyn opened his eyes to see his sister smiling down at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Cruddy." He sat up, only for his head to spin viciously and send him flopping back onto his cot. "What happened?"

Valiel explained, as gently as she could, what had happened. The enemy had come in, trying to use fire to win the fight, and Franklyn had joined the fight, using his powers to quell the flames. It was working, except he'd been sick recently and didn't have the strength to keep it up. He'd collapsed and Romulus had dragged him off the field before he got himself killed.
"You've been unconscious since."

Franklyn groaned again, this time in guilt and shame. "So I failed, huh… Vulcan blast it all, I've let them down…" He sat up again, closing his eyes against the spinning room. "How bad is the damage? Can I repair anything? Did we lose many? And is everyone ok?" By 'everyone', of course, he meant their family, who were always on his mind. "What can I do? Is it all over n-"

"You can relax for a moment, and report to the general like you've been ordered." Valiel said firmly. He'd spin himself into a tizzy, and he was already clearly having trouble. Exerting himself when he was already weak was what got him in this mess in the first place. "Our siblings are ok. Romulus got in a grappling match with some kind of half giant or something, but all he got was a black eye and some strained muscles. There's nothing for you to repair right away, though I suspect there may be soon. We're in the moving process now. I'll have the boys pack up your stuff while you're in this meeting. Now. Can you stand?"

Franklyn gave the slightest nod of his head, afraid of jostling it too much. "I'll have to, whether I can or not. Why does the general want me?"

Valiel helped him shakily get to his feet. "I don't know exactly. I just know he called a bunch of the higher-ups and brains in. I was in the medical tent when Kendra got called in, and your name was mentioned, so I came to get you." She looked around for something. "Where's your brace?"

Franklyn groaned again, and determined it would be the last one for a while. "It's over in the corner." His sister retrieved the contraption, and locked the clamp around his waist. The brace ran up his back, and a leather loop fitted over his head. He knew he looked ridiculous, and it was uncomfortable, but it would keep him from jostling his head. The brace would allow him to relax, and still stay upright, as well as cushioning his head and neck should he pass out again. "Coming with me?"

Valiel shook her head. "I have to get back. You know where you're going, and I'll have the boys pack up your stuff, like I said. Get going." She squeezed his shoulder, before hurrying off back towards the medical tent.

Franklyn stepped out of his tent and headed towards the general's quarters. He had to focus on his feet, his steps unsteady, but he couldn't focus hard enough to block out the sights and sounds of a recently attacked camp.
Men yelling orders as they tore down.
The sound of clanking armor, weapons and gear as they were packed.
The yelps of men over in the medical tent getting treatment.
The sounds of nervous horses, nickering and stamping.

And worse than that, was the smell. The typical stink of people living in close quarters was overpowered by the stink of-… ash.

Ash and blood.

And that turned Franklyn's stomach for more reasons than one. He felt responsible in some way. I could have done more, if I wasn't so blasted sick all the time! There was nothing he hated more than feeling powerless.

He eventually made it to the general's tent, and was nodded inside by the guards. "General Levisay." He acknowledged the big man with a small salute, before sitting down. Half-collapsing, really.

Luan was out overseeing the packup of the armors and weaposn, snapping out orders, her black outfit making her an anomaly against the bright-ish sky, that was tainted with smoke and ash from the enemy's fire attacks.

Once she was sure that the people had everything under control, she rushes off, her extreme speed making her near invisible to the naked eye.

A short but loud shockwave resonates from the place she just was, making some people - who were new to the cause - flinch in anticipation of an attack.

She slows down and falls into a kneel in front of the commad tent, her head bowed in reverence for a moment before she stands up and enters the tent.

She shakes back her hood, letting her hair tumble out.

"General." she says respectfully and playfully before turning to Kendra and grinning, tossing one arm around the girl's shoulders, rubbing her knuckles into the top of her head.

"Hey girlie. Out saving lives, like usual?" she asks.

Kendra had remained mostly serious during her time in the general’s tent, but Luan had always managed to get a smile out of her. She snorted, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Trying my best. I’ve seen way too many good men die today.” She went silent, watching as Franklyn stumbled into the tent. “Speaking of saving lives…”

Kendra wandered over to the young teen’s side and took him by the arm, leading him over to the table. She sat him down and, using some of her magic, provided him with more strength. She seemed to be healing Franklin a lot lately; the poor guy remained sick often, so much so that Kendra thought about requesting to have him sent home on sick leave.

“You fought well today, kid,” she assured him. “Just keep yourself standing for the meeting today. You’ll do fine.”

Franklyn didn't protest as Kendra moved him. Valiel spoke very highly of the healer, and besides, he didn't have the strength to resist it just now.
He could feel her strengthening him, and shot her a grateful look. He wasn't sure what magic felt like to other people, but to him, it felt like fire. Again, he knew most people would feel that and think pain, but for him, the hot, burning, fiery sensation was just… nice. It felt good. Like he was constantly cold but didn't know it until someone brought him to a fireplace. He could also feel the knot on his head from where he'd fallen and clunked his skull beginning to hurt less. And as it hurt less, he could think more clearly.

He had to chuckle at Kendra's choice of words. "Keep myself standing, huh? Whadya think the brace is for?" A joke was easier than acknowledging what she'd said. That he'd 'fought well', even though they both knew he hadn't, that he'd let people down, that people were dead now because he wasn't stronger. She's just being kind.

The dynamic in these meetings was always… a little weird. There was the General, a strong, powerful, good looking man with brains and experience. Then, there were all of these women, skilled, competent, and beautiful in one way or another.
And then there was Franklyn. Small, frail, ten years younger than most of them… and smarter than all of them. He didn't flaunt that, or even like to believe it, but it was the only reason he was here. He had nothing else to offer them but brains.
And that was what made the dynamic weird. The women in the room tended to… mother him, for lack of a better word. And he'd long since given up trying to convince them not to, because A, it wasn't the worst thing in the world, and B, they were all bigger and stronger than him anyway, how was he going to stop them?
It also didn't help that all of them had one of his siblings working for them, and so they all heard him referred to as 'little brother' often.

In any case, just now at least, he was appreciative of Kendra's efforts.
"Thank you."

Calix was quick to gather her belongings. Not that she had many, but she only kept what was important. Thankfully, nothing was touched, and she was able to get her things together fast; leaving the blood from the battle on her drying on her skin and spear, she made herself useful by helping those who couldn't- whether they were away, preoccupied, injured or dead- move their things. She'd been finishing up when she was called to the meeting.

With a respectful nod, Calix entered the tent. Embarrassingly, she was among the last there, but nothing appeared to have happened without her. She did not sit nor did she take water (even though she should have), but stood over the maps and plans on the table, arms crossed.

The skirmish left the soldier energized and ready to continue and carry out any plans. If it came to it, she would throw herself into combat a second time, but that was nothing new. While it was a quality she didn't see anything wrong with for herself, she hoped it wasn't rubbing off on anyone she worked for or with. It always felt right in the moment, but then in came the consequences of a lack in forethought. Calix liked the aftereffects of her decisions better when they were at her expense, not others'.

She looked over the others around the table. There were a few who stood out to Calix, but more than anyone, it was who she recognized as Romulus' sickly younger brother. She couldn't imagine what he was doing there, not in his state. Poor kid. She realized she was staring- she'd been told she had an… intense look before, so she broke it with a soft smile. She figured she might've appeared somewhat intimidating, with the blood of god-knows-who on her face and a spear strung across her back. Again, a little embarrassing.

Luan sobers up a little. "Same here. I'm doing my best with my Shadows, but. . . we're stretched thin across all our fronts. Combat, intelligence. . . hell, even training are all slowing down to a near stop because of the constant onslaught."

She watches as Kendra wanders over to Franklin and sighs softly; even the ones who had it easier with their duties still looked like shit in this war.

Calix came in, and Franklyn was reminded of why Romulus had taken to her so quickly. She seemed to almost be vibrating with energy, raring to go again. Rom was the same way.
Franklyn had often wished he had just a fraction of that energy. But, then again, he'd need to be just as…. intense as Calix. In fact, just now, she had fixed him with a stare that reminded him of some predatory beast. The blood and spear didn't help, and if he hadn't already known her, it would have alarmed him. A lot.
However, he did know her. And he knew, even before she gave him a soft smile like sunshine breaking cloud cover, that Calix had a heart under all that armor. He smiled back, as much as he could.

Luan's comment had caught his attention, and even as he smiled hello to Calix, he was running scenarios and making personnel calculations in his head, trying to come up with solutions. The Shadows were a necessary function of the Rebellion. They needed bolstering, and there were ways to do that. He'd have to get his ideas to the General later though. Unless that was what this meeting was about.

Despite the battle just ending, Victoria was already going over strategy for what the group should do next in her head, trying to figure out what General Levisay would think of to do next. And what she could have done better in the last battle. They had lost two people and a few more had been injured. Victoria remembered both of the missing members, their deaths making her think of her own brothers, despite neither of them resembling the young men at all. If only she could have done better, if only she could have figured out a better strategy before the lives were lost. If only she had been fast enough to get over there and jump in front of them, do something to ensure that neither of them died. Even the injuries were something she felt was her fault. Of course, the graceful young woman would never admit these thoughts to anyone else. She didn't like to tell others much about her past besides what was obvious from her mannerisms and way of speaking–she was raised a noble and defected from the crown to join the rebellion a few years ago. That was all anyone needed to know.

Victoria largely kept to herself, though it wasn't because she didn't want company so much as that she wasn't sure what to do with company. She always seemed to act very stiff and formal when not in battle, using the very graces that she had scoffed at growing up because it seemed though there was no other way to be. Despite her nearly three years with the rebellion, it sometimes felt as if she hadn't assimilated with the people here much at all. She did have a bad habit of pushing everyone away.

At any rate, Victoria had to stop dwelling on the losses from the battle when she was summoned to go to meet up with the other leaders of the rebellion. She was used to that routine by now, speaking with General Levisay and the others and talking strategy and everything. It was the only time she was very vocal outside of battle. She had suggestions, and she wanted them heard. But the small talk before it was awkward. At least Victoria's accidental habit of running just a little late to everything paid off in that regard. If she was the last to arrive, she had to do the least small talk.

She hurried over the general's tent, noticing that she was indeed among the last to gather there. Good. At least she would only have to contribute to the important conversation and then be done. She gave a nod to those already there, resisting the impulse–as she always did–to curtsey instead. How did those habits still have an effect on her mind? They had been ingrained to her as a child, she had to admit. "Apologies for my tardiness."

Luan notes the slight change of expression in Franklyn's face and casually walks over, casually slipping an arm around their shoulders.

"Relax for a bit. Relax that mind. I can handle my own team, alright? I promise. You've got enough going on elsewhere." she says quietly and kindly.

She gets up and wraps Calix in a tight hug, ignoring all the sharp pointy bits - they couldn't get through her armour anyways.

"How've you been sweetheart?" she asks the other woman.

She barely waits for a response before turning to the newest arrival - Victoria.

She squeals happily and rushes over hugging her as well. "Hey Vic!"

As she normally did when it came to any sort of affection, Victoria stiffened as Luan hugged her. She merely glanced up at the taller woman, cheeks flushing a bit at the sudden contact. She did tend to get a little flustered at any sort of physical contact, since it was unseemly for nobles to be too affectionate if they weren't intimately involved (and even then, in public it was very much frowned upon).

"Oh, um, hello Luan," Victoria said politely, glancing down at the woman's arms around her. She almost winced at how formal she sounded in comparison to the more laid-back thief. "Nice to see you."

Franklyn nodded at Luan. "I know you can, I just… wanna not be useless… want to to help." He gave her a small smile, before watching her make her rounds with the other leaders. Luan was such a gregarious type, which seemed completely at odds with her skill set. Ronnie and Ronni both were much quieter, and before he'd met her, Franklyn had rather expected that anyone able to lead the Shadows would be that type as well. Quiet, maybe brooding, certainly mysterious and dark.
Instead, Luan was a bit of a firebrand, a big personality who was able to corral and command all of those silent, deadly types under her. A big personality who left the impression of barely contained energy, who used all that energy to connect and guide.
And then there was Victoria. Franklyn acknowledged her with a nod and a smile. Her ever formal interactions were interesting, but according to Lucky she was an extremely competent cavalry commander despite having noble written all over her. She seemed nice, just… stiff. Still better than friendly and useless.

And now that their motley crew was assembled, Franklyn's curiosity had blossomed further.
"I know why we're here, General, but why are we here?"

Calix was distracted from her staring at maps when someone wrapped their arms around her. She stared down at Luan in brief bewilderment before putting an arm around her as well. At the time, she didn't know Luan very well. Not that she didn't recognize her or know who she was, it was just that footsoldiers and shadows didn't often cross paths. At least Calix didn't. She was also a little surprised by "sweetheart", but figured that was normal for Luan, so she ignored it. "I've been good!" she says, still a little confused. "What about y-?"

Lifting her head to see who'd come through, Calix stayed silent in Victoria's presence. For whatever reason, she felt a little strange around the former noble. Not that it showed in any way other than her silence. She figured it was because she was the last person she'd expect to see joining the revolution. That wasn't to say she didn't believe in her abilities, because Victoria was clearly very skilled in her field.. The soldier turned continued looking over the maps, to prevent herself from going on a mental tangent.

"I know why we're here, General, but why are we here?" Calix looked up at General Levisay. The lighthearted look on her face disappeared; She'd been wondering the same thing.

(Sorry for the delay, very busy day, time for Levisay! :D)

The general had watched each person come in, no- Each soldier.
Kendra had been first, he'd nodded back at her with respect. She did good work. He'd experienced it first hand, even if he didn't get out to fight as much as he used to. Much to his annoyance.

Franklyn second. It occurred to Kerrim just briefly that they were the only two men in the strategy board this time. It almost made the generals stony face crack a smile. Almost. He was the brains. Levisay returned the salute.

Luan. Another nod. For someone who so often worked in the shadows, the general was always surprises by the bright friendliness of the woman. He was grateful however, it helped break the tense mood of the meetings and it was good for some of the other soldiers to socialize. He made a mental note to ask about moral.

Calix arrived quickly, a third nod. Another brief thought of whether or not it meant something crept into his head. Kerrim shook it off, he wouldn't force his soldiers into rigid customs. They wasted time, and wasted time wasted lives. He was pleased to see someone take an interest in the maps, he still stood at the head of the table, arms held behind his back and standing at a loose attention. It felt natural to stand this way, a soldiers stance one quickly learned, when you didn't know if you'd be standing still for hours or thrown into combat the next minute. It was better to be prepared.

And finally, Victoria. A final nod. She wasn't the only noble the rebel army had. But she was by far Levisays most well regarded one. Calm, collected, and most importantly of all level headed in a fight. And one of the only ex-nobles he felt like he could trust to turn away from to breath without risking an immediate dagger in his back.

As a matter of fact there was no one at the table that the general found he could say that he honestly distrusted. They were all good women, plus Franklyn. Fighting for whatever it was they chose to put their faith in, he only hoped their faith wouldn't be misplaced when given to him.

Kerrim let his hands fall to his sides, and then grip the table, giving each member of the loose circle a sober look.
"We've had enough of these meetings and I feel I know each of you well enough that I can skip the formalities without much objection." He didn't wait for any.
"We were ambushed in our own camp today, not the first time it has happened, and it won't be the last. Each of you know we are advancing further inland into enemy territory. They know to expect us, they know what to expect of us over these past few years." The large man paused, wavering for just a second and something other than serious peaked through.
"But damn it we're close."
"We are currently here." A little blue flag was placed on the appropriate place on a map. A black one on the capital. "The whole point of this is.." Kerrim paused, running a hand across his face, willing himself not to show his exhaustion. He shook his head.

"We are maybe four weeks steady march away from the capital, weather holding and supplies willing. And we will be there for gods know how long, we expect a siege. I have been communicating with the other commanders and out forces will eventually be forced to merge, somewhere here." A green flag was placed at a roads intersection.

"We plan for two to three more large scale battles, and likely countless skirmishes and raids. Our men have still not yet been given the go ahead to pillage and they're getting antsy. I want suggestions to alleviate stress. All questions and suggestions will be taken soon." He gave a warning glance to some of the chattier people to not interrupt.

"However. I gathered you here now not to speak of what happened today in camp. All things considered it was handled remarkably well. Franklyn, commendations on not letting the fire spread too far, it was well handled son." Levisay didn't linger on the praise, but gave the kid a firm nod. It broke his heart seeing men this young, looking so exhausted. They should be out learning trades, chasing after girls, maybe going to school. Not massacring other boys their age. The general shook it off. Gods, he'd been doing this for a while now, he was letting his thoughts wander. He would rest while they rode. Or review strategies. The needs of the many came before the needs of the one.

"Luan. Quickly scan the perimeter. I want no prying ears, Kendra check for scrying eyes, and Calix, dismiss the two boys outside. They're not needed with you lot armored to the teeth in here." The orders were quick and quiet and Kerrim waited patiently for them to be obeyed. He shook off another long winded thought monologue about how strange it was that he was used to his orders being obeyed without question were. It wasn't the time. Philosophy was for men who had nothing else to do after a war. Levisay only hoped he'd make it long enough to write it all down.

Luan listens carefully to the General's word's hanging on to each one.

The words that General Livisay spoke were the only ones she could really, truly, wholeheartedly believe without fear of betrayal or lies.

She has to suppress a cruel, bitter smile at the mention of the siege. Cruel, because she could repay the nobles what they'd done sevenfold. Bitter, because once again, her soldiers - no, her friends - would be in the thick of it until the very bitter end.

She jumps to attention when Levisay says her name then nods, gone in a ripple of high-force wind as she speeds out of the General's tent to check for enemy spies. She knew exactly which faces were new and which were old.

She only checked over the new, since the old she knew were never going to be spies or defectors - she'd made sure of that with the last spy she'd caught who was a part of the old-timers of the rebellion.

Kendra watched the general closely as he spoke, her eyebrow slightly raised. She might not have been the most attentive individual in the group, but she could tell how exhausted the general was despite him trying to hide it. It wasn’t much of a surprises; the rebellion had taken quite the toll on everyone.

When he asked her to scan for scrying eyes, she tried not to show her uneasiness regarding the command. She had been trying to avoid using her power since the battle. She had used much of her magic while making a force field around the camp, after all, and magic was not an infinite resource. However, she avoided protesting against the general’s wishes. Instead, she closed her eyes, focusing to see if she could locate any scrying eyes among them. Eventually, she turned back towards the general, wincing slightly at the strain as she did so.

“We’re all clear,” she assured him. “There are no scrying eyes among us. At least none that I can locate.”