<div dir="ltr">Hey there! It's been a while. I've had no lack of ideas, but just haven't actually gotten around to writing anything. Here's a little bit of something to get me back on the horse.<div> </div><div>(And anyone who can, please let me know if the way I handled the entry to the Keep and debriefing scenes makes sense)</div><div> </div><div>---</div><div> </div><div>With the gates reopened and regular patrols resuming from within Metamor proper, it was only a matter of time before those who had been trapped outside of the walls were given permission to return to the Keep. Alex and his company had received the news at the same time as most of their fellows, and together they had formed a small caravan on their way home. The mood was much higher than it had been in quite some time. While everyone kept their guards up in case of attack, neither bandits nor lutins were daring enough to attack a score of Keepers all at once. When at last the walls of the Keep rose up in front of them over the tree line, a cheer went up from the returning soldiers. Alex kept his reaction much more subdued, though he could not prevent the smile that spread across his muzzle. He glanced at the rest of his patrol, each making eye contact with a smile of their own. Lois was the only exception. The ermine walked with a small limp due to his injuries, dressed now in a hodgepodge of mismatched clothing that certainly preserved his modesty but still left him looking like a child who had been left to dress himself. While the majority of places within the Keep's valley kept a large variety of clothing on hand to deal with the multitude of different shapes that they regularly encountered, that did not mean that all of the clothing was either well tailored or designed to pair well together. It was not the clothing that caught Alex's attention, but rather the expression on the ermine's face. The man's keen blue eyes still suggested an introspective wit, but unlike his companions he stared at the walls with a mixture of ear and uncertainty written across his features. He slowed his steps as he glanced upwards, almost colliding with those who pressed in behind him before shaking himself free from his thoughts. Only then did he notice Alex's gaze, acknowledging his captain with a nod. "Are you well, Lois?" Alex inquired. The ermine turned his gaze back to the walls. "Well enough," he replied. "I just… I remember these walls differently." Alex frowned. "It has been a little while since we last approached the gates," he suggested. Still, they both understood the truth. The ermine's mind was still muddled after foreign magic had briefly taken his body. Some things he remembered quite sharply, but others were unclear, or even entirely incorrect. Lucy and Balrog both indicated that there was no foreign magic present, so the ermine and his commander were both left to wonder if his memory would ever recover. They were met at the last bend in the road by a human woman wearing the symbol of the Watch. She approached the front of the group with no concern for rank and hailed them. "Good to see you," she greeted. "Where are you all coming from?" "Hareford," came the reply. "Very good. Stay with your patrols and enter the gate on the left side. Patrol commanders: report to George's office immediately to debrief. We're working to get you some rest as quickly as possible." The need for the directive was obvious as they continued forwards. On the right side of the road, caravans had been stopped in a line and were being processed as quickly as possible by the Watch and some irregulars from the military. The returning Keepers received a few scowls as they made their way through unimpeded, but it seemed that the process was being handled as efficiently as possible while maintaining security. It would be a little while before business at the Keep returned to some form of normalcy. Alex bid quick farewells to the others at the third gate, making for George's office while they all made for the barracks to return what little remained of their supplies. The scene around the jackal's place of work was different than Alex could ever recall, likely some work of Kyia to ease the burden of work. Several tables had been set up along the length of the hallway with scribes quickly marking down information as the patrol captains spoke to military representatives. George himself sat at one of the makeshift desks, and the lynx made a special effort to join the line leading to his table. It moved quite quickly, and when Alex made it to the front the reason became quite clear. "Name?" "Alex hin'Valius, sir," the lynx replied. "May I speak with you for a moment?" The jackal gave him a long-suffering look. "I have a lot of returning patrols, Alex, and I need to process them quickly. Did you suffer any casualties?" Alex sighed. "Vincent Lois was affected by unknown enemy magic. He is in good health and there is no trace of magic remaining." The scribe to George's left took quick notes as he spoke. "Sir, please–" "If there are no lasting injuries, that will be all. Tell your companions that your patrol has been authorized for a ten day leave. At the completion of the ten days, you will report back to my office for a new assignment." "Sir, please." George met his eyes. The old jackal's past made him gruff and unapproachable to most, but those who had worked with him knew that he cared about his men. Alex just hoped that he cared enough. "I'll give you a couple of minutes." The jackal turned his head and barked for someone to take his place at the table. Waving to Alex, he made his way to a door that might not have been there in the preceding moments. "I trust you can appreciate the challenges of managing patrols at this of all times," George remarked as the door closed behind them. They found themselves in Goerge's office proper, a private enough little chamber that would keep their conversations private. "I trust that you know better than to waste my time?" "Yes, sir." Alex took a breath and steeled himself. "It's about Lois, about the magic." "You said he was well." "His body is well," Alex clarified. "His mind has been somehow affected. He does not recall how to fight, and his memory has been somehow confounded. We did all that we could for him, but–" He cut himself off, letting the information sink in with his commander. The old mercenary strung together a few colorful oaths and shook his head. "One way or the other, this bloody assassin is no end of trouble," he griped. "Lucy intends to keep working with him, as does a friend of his– Balrog, from one of the other patrols. They'll do whatever they can." "In the meantime, I expect that he's in no fit state to go on patrol?" "Not likely," Alex confirmed. "All right. I'll have the scribes put down to extend him a medical leave and we'll check in with him and return him to the active patrol roster whenever he is ready. You'll have to make due shorthanded until I have time to find you a substitute." He maintained eye contact for a moment, waiting. "You wouldn't have pulled me aside for that," he said at last. "What else is there?" Alex's eyes darted away to avoid the patrol commander's perceptive gaze, but he could not deny that the jackal was right. "It's…" He gathered himself, and at last lifted his eyes once more. "Am I doing something wrong?" "Alex?" George's tone was uncharacteristically gentle. "Since I've taken command of my patrol, I haven't had one mission without incident. One of my dearest friends lost his leg, Lois very nearly lost his mind, and despite how much I've trained and how cautious I have been, something always happens." "You have had two incidents, Alex, and you haven't lost a man yet." George's expression was understanding, but the gruff jackal had years of experience to give him perspective. It also made him very perceptive. "You still haven't really recovered from what happened to your former captain," he asserted. Alex dropped his eyes again, struggling to maintain composure in front of his commander. "Sir, I–" "Go home, Alex," George advised. "You have the time. In fact, I'll see that your patrol gets a full two weeks of leave to give you time enough to travel." "I won't know what to do with myself for two weeks," Alex quipped with a wry chuckle, trying and failing to sound convincing. "You'll figure it out," George assured him. He clasped the lynx's shoulder with one gray-furred paw. "Get your head right, kid. We need you out there." George didn't give him time to reply before heading back out. Alex took a breath to steady himself, and realized as he did that his commander was right. It had been far too long since he had been home. It had been too long since he had gone back to Glen Avery. </div></div>