Jade Sunday

It had been almost a week since the formal discharge of almost the entirety of the Amber Army. There was just eight of them that remained. Stag, Arla, Miles, Stocke, Kets, Trys, Rickter and Locke. Since there were now so many vacant rooms, Stag allowed them to each have a room for themselves, but Locke found this oddly lonely. He had always slept by someone’s side, and that someone was Fahrla.

Her weak figure clouded his dreams, and he felt an immense longing to see her again. In the silence that filled the time when he was in bed and trying to get to sleep, he thought he could hear her, far and distant, calling for him.

Just wait for me, Fahrla, I’m trying as hard as I can.

But he kept hearing her call, and he drifted to sleep with a heavy heart and a sickening feeling that he was not trying hard enough. He would wake up at dawn each day to the sound of crashing pots and pans drenched in sweat. Arla would call them down, and he would try his hardest in training, but there was that lingering feeling that he was not trying hard enough.

But today was different. He woke up not at dawn, but almost at midday. The sun glared through the window, and his room, coated in a layer of dust from the lack of cleaning this place had, illuminated around him.

‘What? Where is everyone?’ Part of him cried danger, and he gritted his teeth, changed into his uniform and got out of bed. He walked through the empty halls, ears perked for any sound. He peered into Stocke’s room and found the bed empty, the covers thrown into disarray. He did the same for Rickter, but his bed was neatly made.

He made his way to the southern quadrant of the Amber Hall and his blood turned to ice. There were crashes and bangs and shouts in the dining hall. Are we under attack? Is it the Black Hand? He gritted his teeth, grasped the metal knob of the door and swung it open, prepared for the worst.

Trys sat at the table, shovelling down bowls of rice, which had spilled out and attached themselves to her hair and the corners of her mouth. On the far end, Stag was playing cards with Stocke and Kets. Locke could quickly discern that, from the chips that they were using, Stag was rinsing Kets for everything she owned. Arla, Miles and Rickter were playing darts in the corner.

Stag, hearing the door open, brightened up at the sight of him. ‘Locke – you sleepyhead, care for a hand?’

‘What? What’s happening here?’

Stag broke out into laughter as he revealed to Kets and Stocke his hand and pulled the pot towards his own massive pile. ‘Guess I forgot to tell you, but we take Sundays off. Sunday is for recreation.’

‘He didn’t forget,’ Trys said, putting down the bowl and going for the next one. ‘He told all of us not to tell you. He wanted to see the look on your face. Here, Locke, eat up.’ She thrust out a bowl of rice towards him, waited for not even a second, shrugged and pulled it back towards her. ‘More for me, I guess.’

‘Come, Locke, let’s get you in for next round,’ Stag said.

‘Care for a throw or two, Locke.’ Arla showed him a handful of darts.

Locke, quite stupefied by this whole turn of events, sat down at the table opposite of Trys. ‘I’ll just have some food to start off.’

‘Fair enough, but you had better be gambling with me before you get to sleep.’

Locke grabbed a bowl (to Trys’ dismay) and started eating. ‘What happened to that whole discipline thing? He didn’t want me to share a bowl with you when we were travelling, but now you are absolutely gorging yourself. What’s up with that?’

‘Sunday is for recreation,’ Trys said with a shrug. ‘All the normal rules are off for this day.’

‘Must have been rowdy when there were a lot of people before.’

‘It was wild.’

‘What are Kets, Stocke and Stag gambling, by the way?’

Trys broke out into a smile. ‘Stag bets punishments. That whole pile represents a single punishment. If he rinses you dry, you’re forced to do a punishment. If you rinse him dry, he promised that he would strip himself bare and run a hundred laps around the Amber Hall as punishment.’

‘Looks like Kets is going to have a bad night with a punishment, huh.’

‘Oh, this is the third time she’s had to buy in. She has a lot more punishments in store for her.’

‘And what about darts? Are there any stakes for that?’

‘Nope. They just do it for fun. Rickter asked Miles about it yesterday. He’s been quite committed to training, and he thought he would find a way to improve his skill at ranged weapons, which he feels he is not very strong at.’

‘Oh.’ I did not expect Rickter to show this sort of commitment. He analysed one of his weaknesses and is now seeking to train to deal with this weakness. As for me, I can’t really point to somewhere where I struggle or excel at. I perform decently at everything, but I excel in nothing. I must find ways to become stronger.

But how can I become stronger?

‘What’s wrong, Locke? Is something troubling you?’ Trys looked at him, concern in her eyes.

‘I, uh, want to become stronger, but I don’t know how.’

‘Well, that’s what the training is for, isn’t it?’

‘Stocke has his seeds and his prayers, Rickter has his animal friends, Kets always has a few tricks up her sleeve. I don’t really have anything to give me the upper hand in a fight.’

Trys shrugged. ‘I’m in the same boat as you. I’ve tried my hand at magic before, but I can’t produce anything, no matter how hard I try.’

‘Disappointed by your own weakness?’ Arla appeared behind Trys. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table, crossing her finger together in a net.