"Tomorrow."
He raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Why the rush?" His eyes held a glint, he had a suspicion that it was more complicated than a vacation. He knew she wasn't the type to take vacations. Not for long anyway.
She looked up slowly from her vegetable curry stew, still steaming and simmering with thick liquid and bobbing ingredients, like they were merely soaking in a mud bath.
There was silence for a few minutes, even as she met his gaze evenly. But he could see it in her eyes, without speaking.
"You're in some kind of trouble aren't you."
She smiled a little, her lips giving way to a slight curl at the ends, something small and weak. She returned her spoon to the soup and brushed her blonde hair back to take a sip.
"It's hot."
"Yeah, no kidding, Lieutenant." He broke into a light laughter, as if to ease the graveness of the atmosphere. But as soon as he stopped and his face grew grim again, the suffocating saturation of an unbearable weight settled on their shoulders.
"How's Nav and Simon been?" He was unwilling to let silence gain a foothold.
"Good."
He snorted and rubbed his temple in defeat. "It's been years, friend, but we can't even have a casual conversation."
"Sir, you'll always be my commanding officer." She gave him a look that bordered on affection.
But the older broad chested man in his leather tunic and a diagonal utility belt that seemed to never leave his body, grew weary, as he watched her eat her last supper. He had seen many people over the years, recruits and privates like Reina once had been, soldiers of honor and courage, the elite and the rich, straggling peasants and greedy pirates, men and women with secrets, others who spoke their mind and fought with fury, but she had always been different. He had seen that sharp edge in her eyes, the courage and determination in her heart, but still full of human depth and self-control, knowing dream from reality, being much too mature for her age.
He waved his hand dismissively.
"Those days are long gone. Tsurry, you're even of a higher rank than I was."
"Sir, a Vanguard is a Vanguard for life."
He sighed and nodded. "You're right. You're a good kid."
She didn't reply and began to split a piece of the flatbread. After she dipped it in her bowl of soup, she methodologically nibbled it bit by bit, turning it around and around, attacking it from all angles until it disappeared, as if it had never existed. Her fingers were immaculately clean, untouched by soup or bread crumbs, and her mouth clear, teeth white, not a single morsel left.
"I haven't seen Sergeant Navarrez and Simons in months now."
He waited for her to continue.
"I won't be returning."
He cocked his head as if to ask.
She caught his question before he spoke. "Not to the PACT or the squad."
"You founded it though, didn't you? I have heard much about you. You are their leader. You have always been a leader."
She shook her head slowly. "Some things can't be redeemed. Some things are better off left alone. Life moves on."
He grunted. "You sound like an old woman." He didn't laugh. He poured two cups of tea.
"You're not eating?"
He shook his head slowly. "I've eaten." He lied. He hadn't eaten for the entire day. "Just wanted to see how you're doing. Can't believe we would just run into one another on the street. I didn't know you were in the Reach."
"I have been for a while." Her expression darkened as she paused from biting. "Matters to attend to."
He nodded. "Not surprising."
"What do you know about me, sir? Like, what have you heard?"
His face twisted over, as if recalling some horrid grotesque images. He was sure she had already heard the details, so he didn't hesitate. "I've heard some of everything. The PACT isn't so upright or noble and is creating super soldiers, mutants, demons from hell, killing machines, pets and weapons, dangerous to society. You all must be caged and kept locked away. Destroyed if you step out of line. Then there's some that say you all never existed and was the government's way of boosting morale to troops, though our forces spread thin and many lives have perished. Still, others suggest you're all dragonspawn, corrupted in some strange way in Inquest experiments and will turn against Tyria soon. I also heard of the expeditions into dragon territory, that you slaughtered human survivors."
She tipped her head. "Reasonable stories, since we may be a bit of everything." He couldn't tell if she was joking or not.
"Tsurry, point is, if you're on the loose, there are going to be people after you." His words were stern and severe.
And the expression she replied with was revealing. The man's eyes grew wider. "Ah. So there is already someone hunting for you."
"Indeed." She folded her hands on the table.
"Well, that explains it. Where you headed then?"
"Home, for a little, perhaps."
"For a target of your caliber, there will likely be eyes and ears everywhere."
"No doubt. I won't be staying very long."
"Good. Listen, there's something strange about the PACT, from what I gather." He lowered his voice and leaned forward his scraggly bearded face was cast in shadows, eyes sullen and cheekbones prominent. Only the light of the oil lamp lit one side of his face.
She only listened, still and silent as grave.
"The PACT gather and employ races and backgrounds of all kinds. Even old criminals, as long as they were willing to lift a sword for the cause. Sure, there is a common enemy but for some, the Dragons are but a far off threat. Until one comes ripping through a city I reckon most will not care. Even if they did, many will leave it up to others to fight. People, of all races, tend to be selfish, only interested in their personal gain. Sylvari might be an exception. And... Humans are probably the worst."
He paused, then continued.
"There are many ragtag factions within the PACT. They appear to only be made up of three main Orders and under one unified whole but there are many smaller groups, seen or unseen."
She nodded. Her unit was one of the smaller groups after all.
"Some will only work under a pretence of unity." But he cut short and stopped there, his brow furrowed.
"I know and understand, sir. I shall be careful."
He nodded slowly but he still looked concerned.
"Sir," She looked at him through the glow of the lamp. "Have you heard of the Moonhammer Forge?"
He pursed his lips and crossed his arms slowly, deep in thought. The marks on the wooden table seemed of interest to him. Then, "No. Not that I can recall. I have been wandering for many years now, a sellsword of sorts, but even with my wide range of tales, such a name eludes my ears."
"It appears the rifling bores of the weapon used in an attempt on my life was traced to this custom maker."
The former Vanguard officer struck a match and lit his cigar, breathing in a deep cloud of smoke, and exhaled slowly, filling the small kitchen with a screen to obscure their vision.
Then he spoke, through puffs of noxious gas. "I've heard of the Crescent Moon Company. The only 'moon' I recall. I'll send you word should I find anything about the Moonhammer Forge." He shrugged. "In any case, strange for any kind of professional assassin to leave behind anything for you to find."
She didn't speak for a while. He was right. "But regardless, it's a lead and a risk I must take. If I am hunted, I must know my hunter, and in the process, I can become the hunter myself."
Her companion smiled grimly. "That's no doubt something our Tsurry would say."
She sipped from her tea.
"You really never stop, do you?" He studied her sadly. She stared into the depths of her black tea. "Have you ever thought," He hesitated. "what it would be like to be normal?"
The question caught her off guard, like a thin blade piercing her heart. She froze, immobile, her hands wrapped around the tea for warmth from the increasingly frigid air. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. But she never replied. She wouldn't.
He frowned at the silence once again, but did not push any further. As if a page had been turned, she seemed to take a deep breath, standing and straightening herself, brushing off her robes and her black hooded cloak.
"Thank you very much for the warm meal and the tea, sir."
He stared hard at her for a moment, but exhaled, defeated. He stood as well and nodded grimly, extending his hand.
She took it and returned a strong firm handshake.
"Take care, Tsurry. May the Six bless you and keep you. Stay alive. I will see you." His voice was gruff, like he was barking an order. Reina met his eyes for a moment.
"You too." She bowed her head again, pulling her hood up over her blonde hair, hiding beneath its brim. Then she stepped into the chilly night air, letting the darkness and the cold be her comfort.
The truth was that she thought it every day. What if she could have a normal life? Growing up as an ordinary girl? Fussing over small things? What if her parents hadn't passed away? What if she never joined the military? What if she could have done things differently? What if she could walk away from all this?
But they were merely fictional questions. There was no way now to return to the past. There was no way she could walk away free. Not so easily.
She clutched the cloak around her and walked briskly. There was no time for reminiscing and regretful tears. She would leave before dawn.
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