This fanfic falls in the events of the Winds of Chaos thread “Truth in Rumors: Gaidin and Gaidar Investigate,” specifically before our band of merry Warders break camp.
Sojin Majere Gaidin Sleep was elusive for Sojin Majere that night, perhaps more so than some others in their group of seventeen Warders and two channelers. Among the party were the Grey Tower’s Mistress of Arms Riahana Ferria Gaidar, Lysira Walker Gaidar, Warder to the First Seeker Jerid Walker Asha’man, and Dakson Gaidin, one of the Tower’s finest blademasters.
And so, the silver-haired Gaidin found himself on the outer edge of their small camp, half enshrouded in shadow, looking upward at the night sky.
Since the events at the Saldaean outpost and the excursion of Miahala Sedai and himself, Sojin found himself more at peace with his role in the Yards. Or rather, trying to become part of it once more.
He closed his sapphire eyes briefly, letting the cool mountain air brush over him. More than ten years had passed since his departure from the Warder Yards for Walker Manor to act as captain of its armsmen. Ten years since the Battle of the Caralain against a Seanchan force led to the fall of Walker Manor in the Caralain, the House’s retreat to its estates at Caemlyn and its holdings at Camden Corele in the Mountains of Mist, and the destruction of an enemy force.
A decade in which he sat as High Seat in an uncomfortable position of keeping the remains of his father’s House together and fending off cousins who would see him dead or leadership transferred to them so they could completely demolish it. Those darker days saw him either handling affairs of states, arguing with representatives from other Andoran Houses, or in constant training with
With the return of his nephew — Jerid Walker’s grandson — Sojin was only too happy to relinquish the High Seat and return to the Grey Tower. In the more than a year that he had come back, Sojin found himself more outside the Yards and at the Caralain acting as an adviser to his nephew, especially involving matters of the arranged marriage to the Seanchan High Blood.
Sojin argued in favor of the arrangement, and convinced Jerid Walker, a man who presided over House Walker longer than any other as High Seat up until the fall of Walker Manor, that it was a good, tactical maneuver. Few hated the Seanchan as much as that man, but concessions made by this particular family and a desire for peace, was something even the Indigo Asha’man could not overlook.
And now Walker Manor was fully restored, two thousand Seanchan troops have moved into House Walker’s lands, along with civilians — and they were all rebuilding the damage caused by a past Seanchan attack.
His purpose as an adviser was at an end. And there were other reasons why he was returning to the Yards full time.
But here he was, part of a small unit tasked with figuring out if a force of those very same people was harassing people between Andor and the Grey Tower, and if the Seanchan were indeed heading for the latter place. Granted, it wasn’t the Seanchan family or forces tied to House Walker, but it left a sour taste in his mouth.
And mostly because of the brief exchange of information that occurred earlier this night around a campfire.
There was a slight ripple in the air, the barest of crunching of grass underfoot, the shuffling of a rock and Sojin’s eyes opened, hand on the hilt of his sword.
The light fell on a familiar face and eventually revealed another Warder. Sebrina Calin Gaidar was part of their small group sent to investigate rumors of Seanchan. In her mid-twenties, she was short, solid of build. Her sun-gold hair framed a heart-shaped face and her emerald eyes almost shined in the dim light.
“Evening, sir,” she said after a moment, fingering the long knife at her side. She was perhaps more skilled with the weapon than the staff she carried in her other hand. A recent addition to the Yards, Sebrina Gaidar was an old friend and transplant from the Walker estate in the Mountains of Mist.
At 15, when Sojin assumed the High Seat, she showed interest in the House’s retinue of armsmen. Six years later, she was captain of the guard. About a year before Sojin returned to the Tower, she followed her sister’s footsteps and joined the rolls of the Grey Tower’s Warder Yards.
While Sojin shared a friendship with the younger Gaidar, she shared a loss with the First Seeker. Sebrina’s older sister, Sienna Calin, served as Jerid Walker’s Warder for more than five years, just before the fall of the Caralain and after. Sienna died during their hunt for a particular Dreadlord five years ago — something the Indigo Asha’man never spoke of to either Sojin, or apparently others.
“Good evening, Brina,” Sojin murmured simply, relaxing his guard a little.
The other Gaidar, shorter than Sojin by half a foot, casually joined him, leaning her staff against her shoulder. She wore her Warder Cloak, making her blend in with the area around them at times, as did the hunter’s greens and browns she wore.
“Trouble sleeping, sir?” Sebrina asked.
Sojin nodded slightly but nearly sighed at the “sir” bit. Nine years as High Seat saw many things, including the “m’lords.” Brina adopted a more familiar concept according to military, something Sojin was more at ease with.
Up until his return to the Yards. Where he was concerned, he was simply a Warder of the Yards, and nowhere near the top of the pecking order.
“Brina, I’m no officer ...”
The small Gaidar cut him off with a slight tilt of her head. Her green eyes were calm, inquisitive. He knew that look and it usually followed with the sharp end of her tongue.
“Funny, sir, because I thought I detected just that during the briefing this evening when you spoke out of turn,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “So naturally, I assume that is the case.”
Sojin frowned at the younger Warder’s words. He knew he had stepped on toes, especially Riahana’s and Dakson’s, but he wouldn’t go so far as to say he spoke out of turn.
“Brina, what are you ...”
The small Gaidar’s hand connected with the back of Sojin’s head with such force and speed that he didn’t see it coming. He winced, half hoping to avoid that particular habit Brina had acquired in the last few years they’d known one another.
“Sir, with respect, you are a prat,” she said bluntly. “You might be good with a sword and in a pinch leading a group of calvary through the battlefield, but you’re blind when it comes to other things.”
Sojin blinked. “I never meant to step on anyone’s toes, Brina, nor do I think I did,” he said sharply. Again, the smaller Gaidar’s hand collided against his skull and he was forced to get beyond her reach for fear of a third one.
“Aye, and the frown on Mistress Riahana’s face when you spoke, or the way you dismissed Dax Gaidin?” She sidled up to him and smiled politely. “With respect, sir, but you speak fondly of your time in the Shen an Calhar, as first a simple horseman and then as a Captain. What would you do if one of your men pulled such a stunt? Or worse, acted so brazenly as to disrupt a line of command?”
Sojin didn’t need to think about the response. He’d had occasion to act on such things in the past. “They were disciplined, reduced in rank, or if it was to work out frayed nerves or aggression, beat them with a stick in a spar,” he said.
“And if it didn’t get solved, say a dispute among two soldiers, and you couldn’t directly respond,” Brina asked, idly fingering her staff.
“The Red Bands would be needed to break up a brawl,” Sojin muttered. Red Hands were the Band’s internal police force, tasked with keeping soldiers out of trouble or detaining them if something serious happened.
“Sir, with respect, you’re about to find yourself in that position very soon if you continue to act the way you do now,” Brina said. “Tempers flare even among Warders, and that attitude you so discouraged among your troops will earn you a fight from within long before we encounter any Seanchan.”
Sojin opened his mouth, but clamped it shut when no rebuttal came forth.
“With respect, sir, stop acting like a prat before someone else kicks your arse,” she murmured. “My wager is that it will be Mistress Gaidar or Lysira Gaidar. Or if you continue antagonizing him, Dakson may be the odds’ favorite.” She smiled politely. “But I assure you, they will be too slow because I’ll tear you apart in such a fashion that people swore you went through a Trolloc cookpot.”
Most men would have smiled at a threat that came from such a diminutive woman, but Brina had proven she could break bones without breaking a sweat.
She smoothed his coat slightly, as if fretting about his appearance, but the tone she spoke with was of sound and serious advice. “And sir, get that stick out of your arse,” she murmured. “Or I will and beat you with it before I hand it to someone else with an actual grudge. You were fun once, light-hearted and well, not so much a prat. Somewhere between House Walker and now you changed, and not for the better. Yes, you’ve gotten that ‘unworthy to be a Warder’ stick unwedged and that is great, but it’s not enough.”
One hand gripped his coat and violently jerked him down and eye level with Brina.
“The man I know could play a game of cards, swear like a Domani merchant on the bad side of a deal, and share drinks with his fellow Warders and soldiers, and then turn about like a madman at the head of hundred horse to act as interference against Seanchan who were harrying refugees headed toward Walker Manor,” she said sharply. “He was the man who heard the voices of the ‘little people’ and common soldier when most High Seats ignore such trivial things. He was good in a team. And he didn’t allow the pride of leadership go to his head and talk out of turn.”
There were unspoken emotions in her eyes and in the timber of her voice aside from irritation and anger. Ones that both knew the true meaning behind.
“Brina I get ...”
“You get nothing, Sojin Majere,” she muttered, her grip like iron. “The man who pulled the bloody horse dung he did tonight isn’t the same man who ran through a gateway and into unknown odds, without thinking, to watch after Miahala Sedai. He wasn’t the man who seems more like himself — more apt to act in a team and follow orders just as quick he can to give them, and isn’t afraid to admit when he is wrong — when he is around that particular Aes Sedai.” She paused and Sojin swore he almost saw steam coming escaping her ears like a pair of boiling tea spouts. “Light, the man who actually was more like that rascal Dax than this prudish, arrogant prat standing in front of me.”
“I want that man to make a reappearance some time soon, or at least see the prat who spoke tonight gone in the morning and a Warder in his place, one who’s willing to make amends with his general on bended knee and apologize to Dax Gaidin,” she murmured. “Am I understood, sir?”
He blinked, the entirety of the words sinking in as he was held eye level with a good friend and at the moment the one person who could skewer him alive before others found out.
And then he nodded, grinning slightly. “You mean more like the man who called your bet to streak naked through the courtyard at Camden Corele and then won with a full consortium,” Sojin said. “Or the man who tricked you into kissing a mule blindfolded at Midsummer?”
There was a flash of irritation and humor in Brina’s emerald eyes. “Aye, that and the man whom I shared bread, battle and bed with for a time, and one I could call friend, sir,” she murmured. “One who I still care enough about to call him on his flaming foolishness, and one who sees him fit to protect the flaming Amyrlin Seat. A man, whom Light send, could actually form a friendship with those men and women in our camp.”
She released him, shoving him back before turning. She didn’t look at Sojin as she began walking away, but had one last piece of advice. “Do it soon, sir, or Lysira Gaidar will find that arrows she might be missing in your rear.”
Sojin stood there, stumped. Sabrina was by nature quiet and not so vocal, well except when it came to foolish behavior and that warranted the much dreaded head slap.
She’s not wrong, a tiny voice said. Sojin would have shooed the thought away, but this time it lingered, rooted.
Sebrina was right in so many ways. Somewhere along the way from the young man who arrived with a Whitecloak arrow in him to allow a soon-to-be Novice enough time to escape to his current persona, something had changed.
Things had to change, but the question was where. And he didn’t have the answer.