The hall was alive with noise metal plates striking against wood, careless laughter spilling across tables, voices rising and falling in idle mockery that meant nothing and yet filled the space as if it did. It was the kind of noise that masked thought, that buried tension beneath routine.
And yet, even within that restless hum, something felt… off.
Three chairs stood empty.
It was a small thing easily overlooked by those who did not know where to look. But here, at this table, absence carried weight.
"None of them have shown up yet…"
The boy spoke without lifting his gaze, his eyes fixed on the half-finished plate before him, as though the food demanded more attention than the silence creeping in between them.
"Maybe it got worse than we thought."
At Rowan's voice, the others shifted, their attention drawn to him not sharply, but enough. Concern did not announce itself loudly here. It settled quietly, in glances and half-spoken thoughts.
"Should we go check?" Nivel asked, his tone low, uncertain. His gaze remained lowered, as though he were measuring the question even as he spoke it. "If things escalated "
"No."
The answer came too quickly to interrupt.
It cut clean through the uncertainty.
"We stay out of it."
There was no force in the voice no raised tone, no command. And yet, it left little room for argument.
A brief silence followed, heavier now.
"We don't know what really happened," Rowan added, more measured this time. "And whatever it is… it's theirs to deal with."
A pause.
"Sometimes stepping in only makes things worse."
"We'll talk tomorrow," Thessa said at last, her voice steady as she reached for her plate again, as if the matter had already been settled in her mind.
One by one, the others followed her lead.
Agreement came not in words, but in the quiet return to routine the scrape of cutlery, the soft shift of plates. Conversation did not resume. Not fully.
Something lingered beneath it.
Time passed in small, uncounted moments.
Then Mireya stood.
No announcement. No hesitation.
She lifted her empty plate with a quiet efficiency, her movements sharp, controlled as if even stillness required effort. "I'm done," she said simply, though her tone suggested she had no intention of waiting for a response.
She walked toward the steel basin at the far end of the hall, the noise around her parting just slightly not enough to be noticed by most, but enough to be felt.
The plate met metal with a dull, hollow sound.
And as she turned
Thak.
The impact was slight, but sudden enough to break rhythm. Her shoulder collided with someone passing, her step faltering just enough to draw a breath sharper than intended.
"My bad...."
Nivel had already stopped.
His voice was low, controlled, held carefully in place. "It was my mistake… accidentally."
Mireya looked at him.
Not briefly. Not passively.
Directly.
There was no confusion in her expression. Only irritation clear, cold, and unhidden.
"Can't you see?" she said, her voice quiet but edged, each word placed with deliberate precision. "Or are you used to bumping into people?"
Nivel's brow tightened.
"I already said sorry."
A beat of silence.
"It wasn't intentional."
"Then learn to walk with your eyes open."
Her gaze did not waver as she said it. No raised voice. No wasted motion. Just a statement clean and cutting.
And then she moved.
Past him.
Through him, almost as though he no longer mattered enough to remain in her path.
Nivel stood still for a moment after she passed.
The noise of the hall returned around him, but it felt distant now, like something happening behind a wall.
He exhaled slowly.
"I could have said the same to you," he muttered under his breath more to himself than to her.
But she did not stop.
She did not turn.
And whatever he might have said next…
remained unspoken.
The light in the mess hall had dimmed, though not enough to hide anything.
It never did.
In places like this, nothing truly remained unseen only unspoken.
From the shadows near the far end, a pair of eyes lingered on the retreating figures. They watched Mireya walk away, watched the tension she carried in her shoulders, the stiffness in her steps.
A slow breath followed.
"Reckless girl," the unseen observer muttered under their breath.
Their gaze shifted.
Nivel still stood where he had been, unmoving, as if rooted to the spot by something heavier than the moment itself. Then, without a word, he set his plate aside and turned walking in the opposite direction of Mireya.
Distance.
Sometimes that was the only answer people chose.
The camp lay quieter.
Too quiet.
Not peaceful but restrained. Like something had been pressed down… not resolved.
Inside one of the tents, Mireya lay on her side, eyes closed, though sleep refused to come.
She shifted.
Then again.
"Aah…" she muttered under her breath, irritation slipping through.
Her brows tightened as she turned onto her back, staring at nothing.
"Did I do the right thing…?" she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "Why did I even react like that…"
No answer came.
It never did, not in moments like this.
With a frustrated breath, she turned again, pressing her face into the pillow as if that could bury the thoughts along with it.
Then...
Footsteps.
She stilled instantly.
Her body straightened, her breathing slowed. The blanket came up over her face in one quick motion.
The steps drew closer.
Closer.
The tent flap lifted.
Someone entered.
Mud clung to their boots. They removed them without haste, placing them aside before their gaze shifted toward the figure on the bed.
A pause.
"I know you're not asleep."
The voice was flat. Unaffected. Certain.
Mireya didn't move for a second.
Then she pulled the blanket down with a sharp motion, her expression already twisted in irritation.
"I was trying to sleep," she snapped. "You're the one who ruined it."
"Ruined it?" the other voice replied, colder now. "You were disturbed long before I walked in. Don't put that on me."
Mireya frowned.
"I didn't blame you I just said "
"Like you said to Nivel?"
The interruption was precise.
Sharp enough to cut through whatever she had been about to argue.
Mireya froze.
Her expression shifted not fully defensive, not yet but alert.
"What did I say?" she asked, though the edge in her tone betrayed her.
A quiet exhale.
"Oh, so now you've forgotten?" Thessa stepped further inside, one brow lifting slightly. "What happened in the mess hall wasn't even an hour ago."
Mireya sat up halfway.
"You're taking his side now?" she asked, irritation rising again.
"I'm stating what's right," Thessa replied, her tone sharpening. "That's not the same thing."
Mireya looked away.
"If he treated you like that, would you still say the same?" she challenged.
"He didn't."
A beat.
"And even if he did," Thessa added calmly, "I wouldn't twist it into something it wasn't."
Mireya's jaw tightened.
"He pushed me."
"Not intentionally," Thessa said immediately. "I saw it."
Silence stretched between them.
Thessa crossed her arms now, her gaze steady unmoving.
"So what is it really?" she asked. "What's the actual reason?"
Mireya hesitated.
Just for a moment.
"…There isn't one," she muttered. "He's just annoying."
Thessa didn't react right away.
Which, somehow, made it worse.
"That's your reason?" she asked finally. "That's enough for you to treat someone like that?"
Mireya didn't answer.
"You should be thanking him," Thessa continued, her voice firm now. "He helped you."
"That was your idea," Mireya shot back, quick almost defensive.
Thessa blinked.
"My idea?" she repeated, clearly caught off guard. "Who told you that?"
Mireya didn't respond.
"It was Nivel," Thessa said, her tone flattening. "He said he was going to help you. No hesitation."
A pause.
"He acted like a friend."
The words settled heavily.
Mireya's expression shifted.
Slightly.
Enough.
The tension in the tent rose, but it changed shape not sharp anymore, but heavy… pressing inward.
Understanding had begun to creep in.
Too late, perhaps.
But not useless.
Thessa watched her carefully.
"Tell me the real reason," she said again, quieter this time.
Mireya lowered her gaze.
"…When you and Eylra said I was like him…" she admitted slowly, "I didn't like it."
Thessa stared at her.
For a second.
Then exhaled.
"That's it?" she said, disbelief slipping through. "That's why?"
Mireya didn't answer.
Because she didn't need to.
The silence did it for her.
"…You should apologize," Thessa said after a moment, her tone no longer sharp just firm. "And stop pretending he's the problem."
She turned slightly, then added,
"He's not annoying."
A faint pause.
"He's just… too honest sometimes."
Mireya gave a small, reluctant nod.
That, at least, she couldn't deny.
The tension eased not gone, but quieter.
The faint scrape of boots against stone did not go unnoticed.
Both of them felt it at the same time.
Mireya turned first. Thessa followed a heartbeat later.
Eylra stood behind them.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The lantern light caught her face just enough to reveal what she had not bothered to hide fatigue, not of the body alone, but of thought. It rested in her eyes, in the slight tension at the edge of her expression, in the way her shoulders held themselves just a fraction too rigid.
"Eylra… are you alright?" Mireya asked, her concern immediate, unguarded.
Eylra gave a small, controlled smile. It did not quite reach her eyes.
"I'm fine," she said. "Just… tired."
Thessa's gaze narrowed slightly, studying her longer than Mireya had.
"You didn't come to the mess hall," she said. "Why?"
"I wasn't hungry."
The answer came easily. Too easily. As if it had been prepared in advance.
Mireya exchanged a brief glance with Thessa before sitting down, her attention sharpening.
"What did Mr. Drake say?"
For a moment, Eylra did not respond.
When she did, her voice was quieter. Not weak but restrained, as though she had already decided how much of this conversation she was willing to give.
"He questioned Varric first," she said. "He'll speak to Cael next… and decide the punishment after."
"Punishment?" Thessa repeated, the word tightening slightly in her tone. "What kind?"
Eylra shook her head faintly.
"I don't know."
A pause.
Then, more quietly almost as if she hadn't meant to say it out loud
"It could reach Mr. Kaeric."
That changed the air between them.
"What?" Thessa's voice dropped, the seriousness settling in instantly. "Then this isn't small anymore."
"No," Eylra said. "It isn't."
Mireya frowned, trying to piece it together.
"But… why would it go that far?"
Eylra lowered herself beside them, her movements slower now, as though the weight of the day had finally begun to settle into her bones.
"Because Varric injured someone he shouldn't have," she said calmly. "And because rules were broken."
"Charges could be placed," she added after a brief pause.
Mireya blinked.
"Charges? For what?"
Eylra's gaze steadied, her tone turning colder not harsh, but precise.
"For harming an heir," she said. "For breaking discipline."
Silence followed.
"But Cael broke discipline too," Mireya said, confusion clear in her voice. "We were told everyone would be treated the same here… that's what Mr. Kaeric Thorn said on the first day."
Eylra's expression didn't change.
"That's what was said," she replied.
Not what will happen.
The unspoken words lingered between them.
"What happens now," she continued, closing her eyes briefly, "we'll know tomorrow. Until then… none of it matters."
But it did.
She could feel it.
The fight.
Drake's words.
Varric's voice.
The truth of this place.
Her thoughts circled back to it again, unwilling to let it rest.
What truth?
How did he know?
And why did it feel like something had already shifted something she could not yet see, but could no longer ignore?
"Eylra."
Thessa's voice cut through the spiral.
Eylra opened her eyes.
"For now, you should rest," Thessa said, her tone softer this time, though no less firm. "Whatever happened today… thinking about it won't change anything tonight."
Mireya nodded quickly in agreement.
"She's right. You need sleep."
Eylra looked at them both.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then, slowly, she exhaled.
"Maybe."
But even as she said it, her mind had not quieted.
Because somewhere between a duel and a question left unanswered
something had begun.
And she could feel it.
Author - KRIS