The Grey Tower

Lewin Salter had been in the Grey Tower, by his best guess, less than 48 hours. He had approached the gates in the early afternoon and announced his intentions to join their ranks, whatever that had meant at the time. In honesty he had at best hoped for a job moving something heavy from one place to another or being sent back down to Hama Valon to help tend a tavern somewhere. Anything stable, and "safe", he would have taken in a heartbeat after his last few months of… whatever it had been. He tended not to think on it too hard while more pressing matters of survival still lingered.

Instead, while he was busy trying to identify himself and his odd situation to the guards at the gate, he’d been approached by a man who looked to have been made of stone. Literal stone, based on the angles of his face and the absurd muscles bulging from beneath his leather armor. The man had looked Lew over, seemed to have noted something worth consideration, and invited him, of all things, to spar.

Lew had never sparred in his life, but he’d been in enough tavern brawls to handle himself and know that even against whatever chiseled specimen he faced, the difference of a few stone weight and a hand of height tilted the odds in his favour. He also knew stories of Tower-trained warriors; knew they had long fought the Shadow and beat back the darkness time after time. If there was a chance--a sliver of a chance--that besting this man would get him closer to those warriors… well, he could not pass that up.

And so, after assuring the smaller man that it was only a spar and he didn’t understand whatever customs he was engaging in, Lew had squared up, quietly figuring in his head ways to disable the smaller man without hurting him too badly.

A few moments later he was laying on his back, staring upwards through foggy vision at the upper archway of the gates. He couldn’t quite catch the air in his lungs, nor could he identify where he was hurt. It just seemed to be coming from every bone in his body. The man—the Warder, he eventually learned—stood over him quietly, not a hair out of place and not even a pace of breath different from his effort, his stoic eyes still considering the much-defeated foe at his feet.

"There may be something there," the Gaidin had said, nodding at one of the guards, then turning casually and strolling away towards the destination he’d originally been intending.

The guards, with some effort, eventually lifted Lew to his feet and directed him further into the Tower grounds with directions to present himself to the Master of Training. They had quickly noticed his general confusion and flagged down some poor soul to guide Lew while he tried to clear the cobwebs. From that point on things had been hazy, with only vague flashes of memory: his minder, a young woman in a white dress, gently leading him around; looming buildings, punctuated by a massive tower that always lingered in his periphery regardless of where his dazed eyes looked; an imposing looking man in an office who seemed to regard Lew as a distraction before giving some clipped orders to the young woman handling him.

Lew finally came back to himself at the hands of an annoyed-looking woman in a yellow dress, her fingers pressed to his temples and a chill wave flushing through his body. While he recovered, all he heard was a muttered, “already addled as it is,” as she turned and moved away in a cool stride. His handler was still with him, head tilted subserviently until the yellow-dressed woman was out of earshot. Then she grabbed Lew’s arm and bodily dragged him towards whatever destination she’d been ordered. The haze that had been clouding his mind now lifted, all he could hear was the tremendous growl of his stomach while he followed obediently.

~~

A day later Lew walked—staggered, really—towards the Warder Yard in the growing morning light. His left leg dragged slightly on the pathway and he clutched his right arm sorely against his abdomen as he went, frequently glancing up at the Tower that loomed overhead to help keep his bearings.

Since his abrupt and unexpected initiation to the Warder training program the Tower had graced him with a small cot and a truly impressive amount of food. He’d spent the previous day recovering, ravenous from his cross-Andor journey as well as the Healing that had been required to clear a concussion imparted by the Warder who had initially decided he was worthy of consideration for their ranks.

That brief period of respite had ended abruptly the night before with a delivery of a bland set of clothes and the instructions to attend his orientation at a time that had made his eyes pop. Lew was a night owl, through and through, having spent most of his life in an inn’s common room that was only ever active from the late afternoon into the deepest reaches of the night. He’d similarly used the cover of night for his less-than-savoury activities in Aringill, and continued that habit even as he walked across Andor. Darkness had almost become an ally during those times, which made this absurd morning trek all the harsher.

He had somehow already wrinkled his new uniform, and his normally full frame felt like it hung raggedly off his bones after weeks of malnutrition. With dark bags beneath his eyes and his already-pale skin further hollowed by fatigue, it was a true low point for him to be slowly shambling his way down an unfamiliar path while clear-eyed, healthy trainees passed him by.

With his thoughts distracted and his tired eyes squinting to ward against the sun, he did not catch the figure walking towards him until he had almost bumbled into them. At first he danced to the side, surprisingly nimble for his size after so much time navigating crowded taverns, but his injured leg betrayed him. His left ankle buckled, and he fell heavily to the paving stones. Sprawled on his back with a mocking ray of sunlight blinding him, he raised an arm to shield his eyes as he blinked away the spots.

"Good morning…"

"Good morning, trainee."

The words seemingly floated from her and drifted down with curiosity, concern, and amusement toward the young man (at least, she was sure he was younger than she) laying sprawled on the ground in front of her. Natlya Gaidin had to wonder why in the Light this kept happening. It seemed like trainees were colliding with her every other day.

Nat did not think herself invisible, at least not unless she tried to be. Even then, it was never truly that. She just blended in and out of sight when she wished. It had served her well as a thief and better yet as a Gaidin.

"Are you alright?" she asked, reaching down to offer him a hand up. She was of average height for a woman, somewhere in her third decade, with long red hair hanging in a braid over her shoulder, flashing hazel eyes, and lips that were perpetually on the edge of a smirk. "You took quite the tumble there."

As the sunspots faded from his vision Lew found himself prone before what he guessed to be a Warder. It seemed a safe assumption, at least, based on her use of the word ‘trainee’ and her quiet presence. In his brief experience with them they had a way of standing, a sureness he hadn’t encountered in any manner of boastful drunk or smug town guard. Great way to start the day, he thought tiredly as he reached up to take the offered hand. While she helped him to his feet, he was assured of who she was by the hidden strength in her grip. Still, he did his best to rise under his own power so he didn’t show the weakness he felt.

"Yes, thank you, Gaidin," he said nervously, the new word still awkward on his tongue. Was he using it properly? Honorifics had been few and far between in Aringill, usually used sarcastically. He suddenly felt like the awkward, gangly teenager he had been in the years before he’d filled out and found his confidence. He met her eyes, nearly matching dark hazel, and felt a slight blush heat his cheeks. He was so out of his element in the Grey Tower that it was embarrassing.

"I am Lewin Salter. It’s... uh... I was on my way to attend my first day’s orientation." He patted off some of the dust on his shirt and the seat of his pants, wincing as the muscles in his injured arm strained at the movement. "I’ll be fine. I’m sure worse awaits me once the training begins..." He had meant it as a light joke, but couldn’t help keep a questioning look out of his eyes as he stood before the smaller Warder.

"It probably does, yes," Natlya agreed with an almost serene smile. After all, they had all been through it. She'd even gotten the extra joy of carrying rocks during her time off for days on end, after her attempt to run away...once upon a time. She would smile to recall the stubbornness of her back then, but she didn't want it to be misinterpreted.

She gestured the way he had been going. "I'll walk with you and make sure you get there without hurting yourself further. After all, can't have our young ones busted up before we have a chance to bust them up." She winked and grinned at him, starting to walk.

He was not quite sure what he had been expecting when the Warder agreed with his statement. Lew did not get the sense that there was much coddling to be had for the trainees, but any lingering hope was all but squashed in a very calm and very disconcerting manner by the unassuming woman.

Nodding to her offer to walk with him, he took a moment to collect himself before heading off, trying to keep a bit of a quicker pace than he’d been shambling before his run-in with the Gaidin. Tumbling into the dirt had blissfully released some adrenaline, and so he pressed the advantage of numbed aches. "Funny, that," he said with a repressed chuckle, not too sure how flippant he could be with a Warder regardless of her own casualness, "The first Warder I met put me in the infirmary."

"I guess that should have given me a good idea what to expect, if I could remember much about it..." The memory, or lack thereof, sparked a thought in his head and he glanced sidelong at Natlya, "How do most Warders first come to the Tower?"

Natlya laughed, although it was mostly at her own memories. Namely how she came to the Tower. It was a somewhat bittersweet memory, though, since it reminded her of Morgan...but it was okay. She could remember him now without feeling like she was being torn into fifty pieces. It was many years ago now.

"Oh, all sorts of ways," she finally reply. "Your story, on the surface, doesn't sound terrible original." She smirked sidelong at him. "What'd you do to get put in the infirmary?"

Lewin wore a wry smile at her question but kept his eyes forward while they walked, trying to keep at least some of his attention on the path ahead lest he stumble again on his bum leg. "Nothing, so far as I know," he replied, his smile brightening a bit. Maybe it helped that he couldn't remember much of the confrontation--such as it was--but he could almost feel his mind trying to twist it into a fond memory rather than the abject embarrassment it had been.

"I had just arrived and was talking with a guard about finding a job when a Warder strolled over, beat me up, and enrolled me as a trainee." He stretched out his right arm with a groan as if to emphasize the 'beat up' part, but aside from a quick wince maintained his smile. "I guess he saw some potential in me?"

Towering as he was, and built to match, it wasn't a stretch of an assumption. If his struggle to even reach the training ground was any indication, however, he had a lot of work ahead to meet those expectations. "Either way, I'm two-for-two on winding up in the dirt when I meet a Warder." It was hard not to glance over to gauge the reaction of his jest, but he managed to keep his eyes ahead and had to hope the jest was taken as intended.

It was, because even though she could be deadly in her earnestness and sobriety when the situation came for it, Natlya Cade was ultimately built for levity and mischief. It had been true through many of the stages of her life, and she would keep it close within her until the day she left this life and waited for the next.

Thus, she laughed. What she said to follow was true, said lightheartedly, and probably would not bring any comfort at all.

"Get used to that," she said simply, grinning sidelong at the man walking alongside her. "You're gonna spend more time with your face or your arse in the dirt during your Drin years than you will with them out of it."

Well, he hadn't really expected any different. Not after his initial welcome, and not after some of the quick glimpses and stories he had seen and heard from other trainees in his very brief time in the barracks. Still, Lew wrinkled his nose a bit at the statement and tried to nonchalantly stretch out some of the lingering muscle pain in his leg while he walked. It wouldn't really do to show up pre-battered, not that he had much choice at this point.

"In that case," he said, his tone a little more somber now that he had confirmation of his expectations, "if you have any tips for recovery, I am all ears. Or any secrets on how to become a... morning person."

That would be the real pain point, he was sure. He felt and looked like death, and only partly due to his injuries. The prospect of waking up this early--feeling this way, day in and day out, while Warders and other trainees pummeled him up and down the Yard--was a daunting one. Particularly when everyone else he saw appeared fresh-faced and ready to face the day. If even one of them had looked as haggard as he felt it may have softened the blow, the Light blast them.

He let out a soft sigh and quickly rubbed his hand over his face, then pushed his fingers through his hair to try taming it. The shaggy mess immediately fell back into disarray, and he muttered under his breath, "What have I gotten myself in to?"

"You get used to it," Nat said easily, casting a sympathetic look his way. She remembered her own early days, and she hadn't been a morning person. Or afternoon person... Or evening person. She'd hated just about everyone here for a long time, and even longer after Morgan died. But life changed.

She'd changed.

Tossing her red-haired braid back over her shoulder, she was contemplative for a few moments. "In all honesty, this isn't an easy life. It's bloody hard most of the time, and there will be many moments where you wonder what you got yourself into and why you're even here. But in the end, there's bonds made here, and purpose given to life, that you won't find anywhere else."