“So what happened? How did he become a Cosondere after one month in the Pit?” Onyl asked with crossed arms.

  The sun reappeared and Ythan closed his eyes. Forest air went in and out through his nose.

  The camp had been finished, thus the inquiries began. Onyl and Conon stood patiently as they awaited an answer from the blue cloak.

  “Look, I know about as much as you,” Ythan said before he opened his eyes. “My old man arranged it himself. He’s officially a Cosondere. One month in.”

  “How much training has he had?”

  “Exactly what you’d expect for one month.”

  Onyl and Conon collectively sighed. Their mood dampened as the sky brightened. The good news they had hoped for remained elusive.

  “I should have known there’d be a catch,” said Conon as he paced back and forth, hands on head.

  “What are we supposed to do in these conditions?” asked Onyl.

  “Nothing different from what we’ve already done before.”

  “Is this some sort of test?” Conon wondered aloud. “Like, are we still ‘n the doghouse here?"

  “Whether it is or whether it isn’t, no trainee is going to stop us from completing missions. We complete this next one, and it’ll prove the last one was a fluke.

  “That said, it’d do us no favors to let people know we have a trainee on our team. If nobody knows, then they don’t need to know.”

  “Were you going to tell us at some point?”

  “Not even hours passed by since he joined, woman. You know now. You inform no one else.”

  The conversation came to an end when Quin arrived with some firewood. Eager to help out any way he can and prove his worth, he moved with a hotfoot as he handled the burden of minor chores.

  Ythan still found the efforts too slow.

  “Place it with the rest,” his voice raised. “Continue at this speed, and you’ll be left behind in no time.”

  Quin went to the pile of sticks where he deposited his collection among the rest. He wiped his hands of the wet moss and dirt before he sat on one of the four logs that encircled the stack.

  He sighed into his mask as he took stock of the day. As far as first days went, it could have gone better.

  He knew his teammates’ perception of him was not good and if it persisted, the subsequent days would proceed even worse.

  He had to find a way to swing their sentiments, especially Ythan’s which seemed unfriendly by default.

  The moment itself soured an otherwise new and exciting experience for Quin. He hadn’t been this far from Sirqu since he moved a decade ago.

  Being outside the safety and confines of the city put him on edge, but he was tempered by the sheer prominence of nature. On occasion, a new whiff of wild leaves and grasses entered Quin’s mask. The chirps and songs of the birds were as plentiful as they were encompassing.

  Quin only saw trees, hills, and the occasional critter, all on land as expanse as the sky. The bad experiences clouded the good however; Quin kept his head down.

  Conon quickly glanced over at his slumped teammate before he turned to Ythan. “Okay, everything’s set up Bossman. Now what?”

  “Like I said, the next mission could come sooner than later, so just survey the area a little bit,” the Neraviv answered. “Get the new guy used to the surroundings.”

  Quin perked up from his seat and saw Ythan who glared back.

  “You can handle that can’t you?” he asked with squinted eyes.

  “Uh yes Ner. Ythan. I can handle that,” Quin answered.

  “I’m sorry are we on a first name basis, Tyroviv?”

  “No. Sorry Ner. Fyful.”

  “Good. Now disappear.”

  The trio quickly traveled their way down the forested hill and across the wooded plains. The afternoon sun already went to work to dry up most of the ground.

  It looked like a long while would have to pass before Ythan showed his good side.

  For the time being, Quin figured he should distance himself from the blue cloak and focus more on the rapport with his plain cloaked teammates.

  Quin mulled over his next move as he shadowed Onyl up ahead. Like Ythan, she seemed disinclined to get along with the new guy and after the hiccup from earlier, she may have felt even more so.

  “If yer worried ‘bout Princess Sourpuss over there, don’t,” Conon said over Quin’s shoulder. “That’s just how she is with everyone. In time, you’ll be glad yer on her side.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that,” Quin responded. “So what exactly are we doing out here?”

  “As a squad, we usually go out on missions ‘n’ stuff. Track bounties, settle disputes, teach some jerks a lesson, typical things a Cosondere would do. Since we’re not on a mission though, we just camp out ‘n’ kinda patrol the area.”

  “Couldn’t we do that from the tower?”

  “Nah brother,” Conon answered as he shook his head.

  “We stay there too long ‘n’ leadership’ll think we’re being lazy. Then they’ll give us crap to do ‘n the city. That’s why it’s empty over there most times. Out here, we get a lil more freedom.”

  “So we just roam around?”

  “Pretty much. We find some trouble, we put it away, we go back to camp ‘n’ call it a day. Quick ‘n’ easy.”

  “Oh! Excuse me! Excuse me! You three!” yelled someone nearby.

  All three stopped as a man rushed his way up a small slope to their side. He wore a brown vest, an orange tunic, and tight brown pants.

  He sported a bruised face though he seemed more concerned about the bedazzling necklace over his shirt. Of the three, he went to Onyl.

  “You look like you would understand,” he said.

  “State your business,” Onyl ordered with crossed arms and a scowl.

  His face scrunched in fear before he turned to Conon. “Uh-you look like you would also understand.”

  “What is it?”

  “Well you see, I was just moseying through the countryside, admiring the scene when I’m accosted by this local. I make note of her vulgar tongue and rough exterior, as you do, when she conceives this notion that I’m wealthy.”

  “Well are you?” Conon asked.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “That is neither here nor there at the moment,” the man waved off. “So she proposes this duel where if I lost, she would be ‘rewarded’ with this necklace.” He clutched his necklace with a grim grip.

  “Let me tell you sir, this is a fine necklace. One that should not be exchanged in some mere Nomachya.”

  “So you refused right?” Conon asked.

  The man broke eye contact as he mildly paced before the Tyrovivs.

  “Of course I would have declined such an antiquated form of business,” he started.

  “But when I saw this dilapidated box she called her home, I noticed it was on a nice patch of grass if you will. So I thought, ‘If this competition were to happen, there should be an equal wager involved.’”

  The Nomachya was a long standing Sentar’i custom old as the rocks themselves.

  As a means to settle conflicts, the challengers engaged in a hand to hand bout to determine who received whatever was up for contention.

  The challengers could add any extra conditions or stipulations to the bout, or settle with an old fashioned fight.

  The bout only ended when one side couldn’t finish or when the agreed upon conditions were met.

  Usually, a third party adjudicator stood in to ensure fairness with regard to the terms of the bout as well as the fight itself. They also enforced the terms afterward.

  Chances were, no such adjudicator overlooked any scuffle.

  “So you were willing to kick her out of her home?” Onyl raised with mistrustful eyes.

  “That is not the salient matter here,” the man pointed with a raised finger.

  “When I accepted the terms, it was for a one on one affair. Then as our contest went underway, her ruffian kin appeared from that squalid structure and ended any fair play!

  “Being the honorable Sentari’ I am, I annulled the deal, but those damned curs refuse to back off. I’ve eluded them for now but I know this reprieve is temporary which is why I would appreciate your assistance. After all, who better to heed one’s pleas than the benign and brave Cosondera.”

  “You accepted an archaic deal with backward nobodies then expect us to clean your mess?”

  “Please, I beseech you. Surely your hearts are brighter than your cloaks are they not?”

  As Onyl and Conon pondered what to do, an opportunity appeared before Quin. He saw his chance to show his worth and prove he wasn’t some non-factor that could hold his team back.

  If he wanted to improve his standing, then no better time presented itself.

  “We should help him out,” he stated.

  Onyl raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “We should help him out,” he repeated.

  “Settling disputes, teaching some jerks a lesson, that’s typically what a Cosondere does right? We have somebody who’s in trouble and desperately needs our help, so what do we do when we find trouble?”

  Conon chuckled as he raised an arm on Quin’s shoulder. “I like this guy. He kinda reminds me of Coty a lil bit.”

  “Oh, so you rather he get himself killed as well?” Onyl brought up.

  “That’s...not what I meant.” Conon muttered as he raised that same arm behind his head.

  “So you will help me out yes?” the man asked with his hands clasped together.

  “...sure,” said Conon. “Can’t be too big a problem right?”

  Three faces stared at Onyl, all of them awaited her approval. Hands on her hips, she looked down and sighed.

  She faced the three and answered, “Very well. Lead us to them and we shall get this over with.”

  “No need, wer right here,” someone voiced.

  Down the slope stood three brutish individuals. Front and center stood a short-haired woman with a high toned physique. Behind her were two men.

  Though less muscular, they were in no way slouches. One of them had a scruffy beard while the other showed frazzled hair that ran to his shoulders.

  They all wore sleeveless shirts with slacks held up by a rope.

  “There you are,” said the one in the center. “A dil is a dil. You said you’d han’ ova that necklace if you lost.”

  “We agreed to a one on one contest,” the man responded with hands over his collarbone.

  “Me ‘n’ ma family are one,” she said with her arms spread out. “You pick a fight wit’ me, you pick a fight wit’ us.”

  “Endearing as that may be, no one would mistake it for honor.”

  “Yer one to talk. Here you are bringin’ the cloaks ‘n this when they weren’t even ‘n the picture. Oy, how ‘bout you lot stick yur noses somewhere else.”

  “I would love to if it took me away from your odor,” replied Onyl.

  “That one ova there,” the woman pointed as she addressed her group. “You leave her to me. That bitch is mine.”

  “You will not see me take a step back. Though you all look like you have taken several.”

  “What?”

  “Times have changed. The world is no longer dictated by antiquated rules that plunge it to chaos.

  “Had you all left your dirt homes and joined society, you would have noticed, instead you remain outdated hicks.”

  Birds filled the silence as tense seconds flew by.

  Finally, the woman declared, “You sure kno’ how to run that mouf. Wer gonna see how it runs on dirt next.”

  “It would still be cleaner than you.”

  The woman gritted her teeth and cracked her knuckles. She had enough of the conversation. A stare down ensued between the six Sentar’i. Behind him, Quin heard footsteps.

  Quin focused on the wrong thing at the wrong time; the woman ahead noticed.

  In the next second, she thrust out her arm and before he knew it, Quin found himself shoved into the bushes by a [Gust] of wind.

  Onyl and Conon had no time to register what happened as their opponents charged at them. A scrap commenced.

  The two brothers double-teamed Conon while their leader kept herself busy with Onyl. Neither felt any pressure as they held their own.

  Conon blocked with each arm as he misdirected jab after jab. Onyl dodged every move from her larger opponent mainly due to her puppet which slowed the big one down.

  While she proved evasive from physical attacks, Onyl proved not so evasive with wind attacks. In one move she was blown back by a similar [Gust] that knocked Quin.

  Onyl kept track of her senses. She flipped back and landed feet first along a tree then coiled herself back in the fray. This time, her foot landed violently on the woman’s face.

  With no desire to stay inactive, Quin rustled out from the bushes and rushed into action.

  He nearly jutted out his arm to unleash his own [Gust] when he realized his teammates would get caught in the draft.

  He remembered last time he carelessly used his wind arts along with the shock and strain on that poor Yerp’s face.

  No intent to repeat that mistake, Quin simply jumped in to help Conon and even the odds.

  He pushed himself into the bearded man’s business with a flurry of hooks and straights. None connected and on one hook, he swung and missed badly.

  That left his back open and he tried to counter with an elbow thrust but that missed as well.

  His momentum carried him over to Conon who moved out of the way, but that exposed Quin to his teammate’s opponent who landed a clean punch in his masked face.

  Squared up against the long haired foe this time, Quin blocked and dodged multiple strikes. Before long, his mistakes in the Pit reared their ugly head.

  He continued to be pressed back until he stepped into Onyl’s sphere of the scuffle.

  Forced into a tight spot with her back to Quin’s, she had no other option than to duck the woman’s oncoming punch. It rocked an oblivious Quin.

  His face bounced off one fist then another between the big lady and her long-haired relative when she thrust a knee to Quin’s head that spun him around. He hit the ground with a thud.

  He rolled off his back, sharp rings filled his ears. His vision became woozy and he dropped to his rear.

  Onyl had to fend for herself as she evaded a flurry of punches and kicks from the mixed assailants. Surrounded on both sides, it looked like she too would face a violent back and forth.

  The long-haired attacker leaped in from behind with a right punch, but suddenly, his movements came to a halt. Caught by her silhouette, he remained frozen in place.

  Her opponent ahead kept Onyl’s attention as she blocked punch after punch. The woman wound up for a serious hook but Onyl dodged it at the last second.

  It fully connected after that, but to the wrong target.

  Released by Onyl’s puppet after her dodge, the man behind her only had an instant to avoid friendly fire. He couldn’t dodge in time.

  Pounded in the face, he became dazed and wobbly as he alternated between skids and steps on the grass.

  Onyl gave them no time to realize their error. She gave the woman’s back a good kick that propelled both of her foes to Conon and his side of the skirmish.

  While on offense, his back faced the two bodies that flew toward him.

  Right before the moment of collision, Conon took himself out of harm’s way with his ghost arts.

  He became intangible and the opponents behind him phased right through to clash with his opponent in front.

  All three tumbled down the slope and ended up right they started as they looked up at the Cosondera who towered over them from above.

  Tangled up, they forcibly tried to separate; their aggression turned inward. Their leader put her foot down when she laid her boot across her brother’s scruffy face.

  Her kick had so much force to it, that it stood him up on his head. Another scrap came to an end.

  “If I were you, I’d take this moment to get up out of here,” Conon advised as he looked down to his fallen foes. “We can pretend this whole thing never happened ‘n’ we can all move on wit’ our day.”

  Slightly recomposed, the group hesitated. Their antagonism however, never wavered.

  “You damned cloaks!” shouted the woman. “There ain’t no one here that likes y’all! Always ‘n utha folks business ‘n’ stuff. Y’all had nut’in to do wit’ any of this!”

  “We had everything to do with your beating just now. Another will be imminent if you don’t depart this second.” Onyl warned them.

  The three aggressors glared at the two Tyrovivs before they took their leave. Soon, a chaotic scene returned to its natural serene state.

  The distressed victim whom this fight started over, had long fled. Conon noticed his disappearance first.

  “Huh. I guess since he already thanked us, he felt like he didn’t have to do it again,” he stated before he went to Quin. “C’mon brother, on your feet.”

  Quin’s headache ceased but knew it would come right back after this latest performance. He wanted to prove he wouldn’t be in the way, he only proved otherwise.

  “New guy,” Onyl called as her sloped eyebrows neared him. “What were you doing?!”

  “I know. I know. I’m sorry,” Quin responded with raised hands. “It wasn’t like I was trying to sabotage you though.”

  “Could have fooled me. You were virtually useless back there.”

  “Hey, cut the new guy some slack,” said Conon. “This is a raw deal for him too y’know.”

  “That is not the point Conon. If he carries himself this same way during a mission where success and survival are on the line, then we will all be undone.”

  Conon had no words to refute Onyl’s point. Quin could only look down. So much for his rapport.

  “Okay. Okay. Yes, the new guy ain’t at our speed,” Conon admitted. “But that’s cuz he’s running from behind. All we have to do is get him caught up, ‘n’ I think I have just the thing.”