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A few early risers stumbled into the light and headed for the communal bathhouses while in the mess tent.
Some gave him curious glances, but he was soon forgotten, his silhouette indistinguishable under his billowing cloak.
In the distance, junior warriors jogged in the semi-dark shadows of the plains, already hours into their rigorous training. Killen imagined them shivering as the cold wind blew down from the mountains.
‘’Tis fresh,’ he commented, catching to the sentinel.
The Kärd slowed. ‘Indeed. One day, it’s blowing heated sand in your face. The next, we’re sloughing through floods and snow.’
‘Snow?’ Killen asked in a slow drawl, his silver eyes fixed on the surging weather.
His guide cursed, exasperated. ‘We get all four seasons in a day during the Spells of Kaos in Karth. Nada, you can do about it, but slog it out.’
The sentry turned towards a maze of tents, these more spacious and luxurious than the lesser accommodations for the winged regiments.
They approached a wide gate of the deepest ebony wood embossed with an expansive gilded eagle-hawk-intertwined insignia.
Two lean female warriors stood guard, their sinewed muscles glistening, bearing extensive, glittering spears.
Killen noted how the Kärd bowed to the pair, his expression wary with respect.
‘Kaxuaraí Lancers. Legends,’ Killen murmured. ‘Greetings.’
He gave both warriors a bow, keeping a close eye on their burnished copper wings. The shining rachís extended above and behind them and the sharp edge of their gleaming lances, bracing himself as he swept past their fierce, unmoving forms.
His escort, too, skirted wide around them as they walked through the gates towards an extensive, elaborate pavilion pitched on a platform.
The Kärd lifted a hand to stop their advance. ‘Wait here.’
Killen paused at the foot of the stairway. Waiting as the burly Krypós sentry bounded up the steps and stuck his head into the flap of the giant tent to announce him.
In time, the sentinel pulled his krest back out and beckoned at him.
Killen climbed the stairs to find the large war marquee packed with bodies, wings, and talons.
Inside, a mix of half- and full-transmuted Sab?r Hawk and Krypós eagle forms moved with sinuous grace.
The furnishings within were impressive, with a blazing, sunken fire at one end.
The structure’s walls were fashioned from luxurious fabric. It’d been intricately stitched together and slung over high wooden rafters, merging into a focal point where smoke and hot air poured out.
Draped leather curtains on cross beams created spacious rooms and compartments, lending luxury to the mobile palace.
The Kärd let him into one of the silken walled-off spaces.
The inner chamber was divided by a magnificent woven cloth of chrome, metallic, and gold, which shimmered with life.
Nine figures were clustered around a large table above, which was a prominent holo.
They all looked up as they approached.
Five were strangers to him. Four were familiar.
Those he did not recognise stared at his unexpected presence, eyes raking over his silver hair, conspicuous form and glittering eyes.
They paused at his dimmed and shrunk lodestone, their eyes puzzling as they tried to figure out who he was and where he was from.
Of those he knew, he met their gaze as their lodestones illuminated up.
