As the squad starts dispersing around me to find somewhere to lay down their own packs, I open the backpack and throw a look inside. I find two jute sacks, the first one filled with potatoes while the other contains a mixture of wheat and corn. At the bottom of the backpack, under the two sacks, I find a leg of smoked ham and a small wooden box held shut by a small red cord lodged inside a small iron cauldron.

“Those are the medical supplies.” A voice over my shoulder informs me.

I jump a small distance, away from the voice and the backpack, startled until I see Yvonne, standing there and concealing a giggle behind her hand.

“Sorry.” She says. “Couldn't resist.”

“It's okay.” I shrug, a bit embarrassed at my overreaction.

“Good.” She nods towards the supplies. “We will be subsiding on those supplies primarily, so guard them well. Our individual rations are best saved for emergencies.”

“Okay?” I frown, confused. Why is she telling me that?

She stands there, observing me, seems to be awaiting something. I stare back, puzzled.

“Oh!” She laughs this time, not even trying to hide it. “You're to make the meals … Jessica, right? Both Gerald and Clement have other duties such as keeping watch while I'll be attending my Lady Lance while she and Nicolas work on their maps.” She pauses, making a humming sound. “You can try to convince Patrick to cook if you want, I would pay to see that.” She laughs brightly as she leaves me there, echoes of her amusement staying behind for a small while.

Eh, at least the food looks good. I start whistling to myself as I take out the small iron cauldron and start boiling some water. I consider trying to build the construct in funnel shape Father showed me last night to guide more heat to the pot but dismiss the thought as keeping my reserves of flow for tomorrow seems wiser.

With some time to myself, I glance around at those of the squad I hadn't been able to observe during the day as they were behind me. Gerald and Clement are sitting back to back in the middle of the crossroad, one facing the two is standing in front of the crossroad, keeping an eye on the fork while the other watches the route we took here.

Nicolas and Lady Lance are discussing the tunnels with their backs to the fire, leaving space between them so that its light can shine on the two maps they have deployed.

“See, I knew I was right! The leyline between Buton's castle on the coast and my father's northern holdings is exactly parallel to this tunnel!”

“It could be a coincidence, smugglers are known to find ways around domain borders to avoid taxes, one of their tunnels coinciding with a leyline is not very surprising.” Lady Lance observes.

“Except there are no domain borders on the island, the only tax border I know of is at Meria's gates.” Nicolas objects immediately.

Lady Lance remains silent for a time, her hand moving to her side and tapping on something silver. I follow the movement and find that she is playing with the silver lion head decorating the pommel of her sword.

“You are right, this is odd.” Lady Lance shakes her head. “Let's go over what we've gathered so far.” She raises a single elegant finger. “For this tunnel to be the work of smugglers, it would either need to emerge behind a control point but there exist none of those on this side of the Izla.” She raises a second finger. “Or it would need to emerge in a hidden creek that serves as temporary docks on the coast somewhere far from where we are now considering we have been traveling inland for a full day.”

I scoff a bit at that while I stir the pot with a spoon I found attached to the front of the backpack. More like half a day of slow walking. I roll my stiff shoulders a bit, not complaining about the breakthrough.

Lady Lance raises the third finger. “The tunnel on the right keeps going parallel to the leyline, where does the left one go to?” She asks.

“I haven't a clue.” Nicolas says, shrugging. “I suggest we don't try to find out, it is more likely that we'll emerge near a village if we follow the right tunnel, so I think we should do that. We might even get lucky and emerge inside the criminal's warehouse.”

“Hem …” I raise my voice, surprising myself.

“What is it?” Lady Lance half-turns to throw me a glance, her expression remains thoughtful.

Yvonne, with her back against the tunnel wall, also turns her head to throw me a curious look. I silently curse myself for speaking but it's too late for regrets.

“The …” I clear my voice. “The tunnel itself is weird my Lady.”

“An oddity about the tunnel you say?” Nicolas turns to look at me, his curiosity piqued.

“What seems weird about this?” Lady Lance asks, turning her eyes to the tunnel walls.

“I mean, when I work the soil it doesn't just pack itself like this of either side of my plow, the earth here is way too compact it to be natural, those who dug the tunnel had to have worked to compress the soil into these walls and ceilings.”

“Of course you know nothing of the techniques involved in this, they were building an underground network so it seems to come to reason that the first thing is to ensure the stability of the structure.” Patrick's voice comes from behind my back, contemptuous as usual.

I have more to say but his interruption gives me the perfect excuse to stop talking and I fully intend to take advantage of it but Lady Lance's silvery voice crushes that hope.

“Go on.” She encourages me with a semi-ordering voice.

“I mean, I've seen the stables back home be built and when they dug the foundations I saw nothing like this, they used wooden planks and beams to hold the soil in the shape they wanted it in, no compression of the ground or anything … and then there that … ribbing on the sides, every few meters it seems.” I point at one of the ribs, a small ridge in the earth going over both the walls and the ceiling. “It reminds me of the creases that appear on the bodies of earthworms when they contract to move.”

A long silence accompanies my last observation as even Gerald and Clement are looking at the spot on the wall now. Ha, that got more of a reaction than I expected, which was pretty much to be told to shut up.

“So, not smugglers then.” Nicolas notes absent-mindedly. “The Baron did us quite the favor with this local terrain expert.” He adds with good humor before carrying on. “What else can you tell me?” He asks.

“Not much beyond the fact that iron makes the earth red …” I hear a scoff coming from Patrick. “And if we're headed towards the south of the Izla … then there is an abandoned iron mine between my village and Meria, I wouldn't be able to tell you exactly where though.”

“Perhaps that is where that left tunnel connects to then.” Nicolas observes, looking at lady Lance who remains fixated on the walls.

“I concur but that is unimportant as of now.” She makes a swiping motion with her hand. “We have been operating under false assumptions.” She turns around and puts the whole squad in her line of sight. “I will think on what these new elements mean for the mission tonight. We will discuss and make a decision tomorrow, agreed?” A concert of half-formulated agreements and nods answer her.

The rest of the squad disperses, Lady Lance wraps the maps up with Nicolas while Gerald and Clement go back to their watch duties. I throw a glance over my shoulder and find Patrick sitting on his pack, oiling his sword. When I turn back to the pot on the fire, I spot Yvonne with her back still resting against the wall but this time she is observing me rather than her Lady.

I do my best not to let her gaze fluster me as I take the smoked ham leg out of the backpack, leaving it on top of the pack's cover for easy access. I'd love to cut myself a piece of it later but I don't have a knife. The surface of the water in the pot starts boiling, telling me that the mixture of wheat and corn inside is about done cooking.

The sudden movement of Yvonne standing back up from riffling through her pack attracts my attention as I hadn't noticed her moving to begin with. She walks towards me with two bowls and spoons in hand, her other hand closed in a fist that she brings above the boiling water before opening her fingers, releasing fine black and white grains.

“There, take it.” She presses a bowl against my shoulder.

I grab it with my thumb over the spoon's handle to keep it in place, my thoughts still on the fine black and white grains I just saw.

“Was that pepper?” I ask.

I half-expect her to straight up tell me it's poison just because that seems more likely to me than the possibility that I just witnessed several silver coins worth of spices being used to spike a simple gruel. That single handful should be about ten times more expensive than the whole bag of grain in the pack.

“And salt yes.” She nods. “I keep a satchel for special occasions, Leomi's father used to gift her a small vial every winter when he came back from his travels down south, beyond the cold blood's prairies.”

“Leomi?”

“Lady Lance.” She says with a smile.

“Oh, thanks.” A completely involuntary smile lights up on my face.

“For the pepper or the name?” She asks with a teasing smile.

“I … the … I mean …” I splutter my words in a panic.

“Calm down, calm down, forget it.” She laughs, taking a seat in front of the fire.

I gather the last remains of my dignity, careful to maintain the self-delusion telling me I have any left, standing up to grab the stirring spoon, turning it around in the gruel several times before slipping the utensil under the pot's hoop and carefully lift the pot away from the fire, delicately placing it on the ground.

My eyes shift around, looking for something to do to remove myself from the fresh location of my embarrassment. I make my way towards the two standing watch, silently holding out my hands while they wordlessly hand me their bowls that I go and fill with gruel before returning to them. I proceed the same way with each member of the group, I chastise myself a bit for voluntarily taking the role of a servant just to avoid feeling uncomfortable.

The other three nobles soon join Yvonne around the fire, conversing as they eat. I take my own bowl as far from them as I can without leaving firelight and find myself a spot near the tunnel wall, sitting with my back resting against it.

I finally feel my shoulder muscles relax from the day of carrying the backpack as I eat my fill, doing my best to ignore the voices around the fire and not putting any attention towards the few words reaching me that I could use to follow their conversation, resolved to have some quiet time to myself.

As I scrape the bottom of the bowl for the very last wheat grains, my eyes drift towards the ham sitting on the backpack near the fire. About at the same time or perhaps because my attention is directed there, I hear jeers coming from Patrick and Nicolas along with Yvonne's laughter that I easily recognize thanks to how much she's been using it with me recently.

I observe as Lady Lance, Leomi, shifts her sitting position, she seems to be placating them with her hands. She then gets up and her head scans the area before leaving the fire and walking in my direction. My eyes stay glued to her confident gait until she stops in front of me, smiling and sending butterflies down my stomach.

“Can I sit there?” She asks.

“Sure.” I swallow and shift sideways, unnecessarily making space for her next to me when the whole wall is free on either side.

She drops next to me, sitting with her back against the wall and casually resting her arms on her knees.

“You made me lose a bet you know.” She tells me.

“I did? What kind of bet?” I ask, a bit flabbergasted.

“A race.” She shrugs. “Patrick claimed he could maintain his horse's gallop longer and further than I could.”

“How did you lose?” I encourage her not out of curiosity but to keep her talking to me.

“Turns out he had a bit more flow in his reserves than I knew.” She turns a knowing glance my way, in no way accusing but a rush of guilt still makes me blush.

“Sorry.” I whisper.

“Eh, I know it's not your fault. I would bet that he bullied you into it but knowing him no one would take the odds.” She waves a hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Can I ask something?” I pick up the conversation after a short pause.

“Go ahead.”

“What's the mission you've mentioned?”

“Ha! Nothing noteworthy really, some of Buton's peasants found odd tracks near a couple cornfields so he sent us to check it out with a couple of his guards. Patrick found the tunnel entrance and here we are.”

“Tracks?” I ask.

“Long splits of a few centimeters deep in loose ground.” She pauses in thought. “Nothing worm-like if that's your concern.” She adds. “We operated under the assumption that they were made by smugglers accidentally dropping objects or weapons.”

I sit there, literally breathing her presence but unsure of how to retain her interest, a smell of leather and something unrecognizably soft coming from her brings the fact that I've been walking all day to my mind, making me sweat and adding to the sudden build-up of insecurity. The fact that I know I've washed last night and this morning doesn't really help calm my mind, I start clamping down on the thoughts and try to focus or at least find something to talk about.

“Say.” She begins.

“Yes?” I ask, a bit of a tremble in my voice.

“Would you help me win a bet?” She asks. “Perhaps to make up for the blatant act of treachery I've so clearly suffered at your hands.” She makes such a bright smile at those words that I find myself giggling and blushing at the good-natured jest.

“Of course! I apologize a thousand times for my unfortunate actions my Lady, I was misled by the words of a trickster!” I answer, taking to the game.

“Oh! Such relief your words bring to my heart!” She sighs, bringing her face slightly closer to mine.

“Tell me, my Lady, in what manner may I serve you today?” I breathe the words out, staring into the abyss of her light gray eyes.

“A simple question you may answer, with truth and honesty, for the bet to be won or lost.” Her face looms ever closer, I start fearing that she may feel the burning heat of my cheeks but I nod nonetheless. “My comrades wonder whether you have taken a liking to my humble person.”

“They, do?” I shiver, finding myself uncertain as Leomi stops edging towards me while my entire being remains suspended to her lips.

“Tell me, Jessica, do you have a crush on me?” She asks in a breath I feel brush against my face.

“Yes.” I hear myself answer in a whisper. “I do.” I add, desperate to double down now that I've exposed myself.

She shifts sideways to my left, her cheek brushing past my lips as her own press against mine, giving me a light peck on the cheek, her touch disappearing too quick to savor. My entire body seems to fall forward as I try to catch her retreating lips with my cheek, only I fail. Forced to catch myself with a palm to the barren ground as Lady Lance shifts from sitting in front of me, to standing high above me.

“Thank you for your honesty.” She lifts a hand and extends the tip of her fingers to touch the spot that she kissed on my cheek, they feel cold. “You've repaid me a thousandfold.” She says, withdrawing her fingers before turning around abruptly in a startling volte-face, leaving me there … looking down at my hand in the dust, red hot ears and taking short staggered breaths.

I freeze, sitting with my thoughts in a daze, my will directed towards delaying the inevitable moment in which I'll have to face what just happened. The shame I feel forms a heavy ball in my chest, making me want to scream, but I cannot, the added frustration simply exacerbates my embarrassment at being so easy to read and trick.

In that state, my ears pick up the excited voices of the nobles rising in volume as Lady Lance approaches them, the sounds are interrogative in inflection. And I really don't want to hear this.

The thought tears me out of my reverie and I untie the string holding my winter cloak around my neck, folding the cloak in a near perfect rectangle that I then wrap around my head, using my hands to press both ends on each ear. I let myself slide to my left side, taking a sleeping position and focusing my mind on the sounds that my irregular breathing makes inside my chest to drown out all the exterior noise.

To calm myself and my breathing, the first thing that comes to my mind is to delude myself into thinking that everything will be okay, it was just a joke, a way to tease the newcomer in the squad. Besides, it's just a crush and with how strikingly beautiful she is, it has to be something she is used to dealing with.

I just have to …

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