"Finished for today, Addi?"

"Almost. There's still the spot beneath his lordship."

"I can vouch that his lordship will clean that spot himself. Now you go home, your mother's waiting outside."

"Thank you, Department Leader!"

The voices irked Steppo in his slumber, for one because they were too close at hand, and then again because they sounded so familiar, urging him to remember something he shouldn't have forgotten in the first place.

When silence settled once again, he fell prey to the hope that he might remain content, but then a rude poking against his ribs robbed him of any further hope.

He cracked an eye open, glaring at the blurry figure that had dared to disturb him. He opened his eyes wider, blinking away the film of sleep, but the other one's features remained elusive, until it finally dawned on Steppo that the reason for that was the rust-hued shroud the man stubbornly insisted on wearing at all times.

"Are we storming the palace?" he croaked, feeling the painful dryness in his throat.

"With you in this state, we can't even hold a picnic."

"You don't need me every step of the way."

The Iskarian sighed, then settled cross-legged beside Steppo, who was now making significant efforts to reawaken the rest of his body and shift to the side.

"I wish that were so," said Garuvv earnestly. "I wish you were a simple figurehead we could place at a distance, assured in the knowledge that you would watch over us, that you trusted us to make the decisions we need for ourselves."

"But I do trust you."

"Yes, but you're no figurehead. You are a key operator in forming new recruits and it's not inductive to business when you're caught sleeping on the job."

"Is that why you're here?" grumbled Steppo, his words cut off by a sudden, inevitable yawn.

"I've received several concerning reports from multiple directions. I was not expecting to have to worry about you on top of everything else."

"Sorry," muttered Steppo.

"You're the best asset we've got in Training," continued Garuvv. "This fighting force would be no better than an undisciplined rabble if it weren't for you."

Steppo scoffed, dry amusement hardening his voice.

"What fighting force? You're dreaming."

Garuvv straightened, placing his palms neatly on his knees and fixing Steppo with a stern look.

"Do not sell us short, Chief Strategist. Three dozen soldiers is nothing to turn your nose at. Trained as they are, they are worth more than a hundred street thugs."

"Except that we're not up against that type."

"I suppose that depends on where you live."

Steppo scowled at the reminder of his supposed exalted position and fortune in being a resident of the nicest part of the capital. But nice being a relative term, he couldn't help but weigh the disgusting depravity of the upper class carried behind closed doors against the straightforward brawls ensuing each evening in the seedier neighborhoods. And Steppo being Steppo, he naturally found the ladder option infinitely superior.

When he realized that Garuvv had fallen silent, he blinked, bringing his surroundings back into focus, and meeting the concerned gaze of the spymaster.

"You are not well," stated the other man.

"I just needed a break."

He needed more than that, but one had to be realistic about what one might strive for. He needed to get their meager troops into the best shape they could possibly attain, monitor his troublemaking sister, deal with the rest of the assignments and functions at the organization, bear with his father's unreasonable requests, lay out the best strategy in the difficult transition period Kassi was going through at the moment, and... was there anything else?

Immediately, Meyo's face materialized before his eyes, and the guilt drowned out everything else. It wasn't even rational, but that didn't seem to matter to his otherwise cold conscience. 

Misjudging the cause of his scowl, Garuvv spoke up again.

"I don't generally like pointing out the obvious, but you look like Attira's own hellhound."

It took a while for the words to register, but when they did, Steppo deepened his frown and resolved to remain in the present moment, because if there was one person you never wanted to be sloppy in conversation with, it would be the one standing before him now, analyzing his every reaction.

"Since when do you care for the Pantheon?"

"Since I've had to get used to your country's customs, strange as they are," replied Garuvv. "As I understand it, this idiom refers to one's deplorable physical appearance, usually as a result of a brutal battle or severe wounding. Am I mistaken?"

"No," grunted Steppo, then finally managed to attain a seated position. His spine protested, and he couldn't stop his wincing at the pain in his joints and muscles. However, he suspected Garuvv was referring to the cosmetic inconveniences following his impromptu brawl with Tahni the night before. Thankfully, just when he was about to think of Meyo again, the other man spoke up.

"You should know better, as a swordsman on your own behalf, and as a teacher on many other people's, how far you should push yourself in times of stress. You should ask yourself, is the risk of depreciation worth the momentary perceived gains?"

"What do you mean by depreciation?"

When Garuvv made no reply, Steppo yawned and started stretching the abused muscles of his shoulders.

"We had a good training session," he grumbled. "I think they're ready to move on to the next level."

"And that's another matter we need to discuss. This supposed field trip you propose-"

"Where is everybody?"

In retrospect, it had taken him an embarrassingly long time to notice, but now that he felt fully awake, Steppo cast quick sweeping glances around their training facility and found himself disappointed, but not surprised, that everyone else had already left.

"There wasn't much incentive to stick around when you collapsed into a snoring heap."

"I suppose not," agreed Steppo reluctantly.

"Addi said you were already here when he came with the Vetar brothers. Training with dueling swords, of all things."

Steppo rubbed his eyes and tried to remember that portion of his routine, but the day's activities just seemed to blend into a confused mass of pain, exertion, and the pointless quest of trying to forget something he should take responsibility for.

And now that he had given his fellow members plenty of reasons to feel concerned for him, he was forced to admit defeat and face the most pressing problem head-on. Of course, Steppo knew there was little he could do to solve it at the moment with the limited information he had, so he turned to the best fount of knowledge available, which also happened to be the man sitting next to him.

"I need your help."

"I'm not a qualified medical professional."

"No, but you're a more than qualified snoop."

Garuvv stiffened, clearly resenting the term, but Steppo could feel his curiosity rising.

"I need you to find out more about gourds."

A short silence followed, as the words settled between them, and while Steppo did feel inclined to explain the strange request, he held his tongue and waited for Garuvv to make his reply.

"Gourds?"

The Iskarian blinked in confusion, then narrowed his eyes.

"Is that a code name?"

"No. I mean the actual things. Green, hard, some people drink from them."

"I know what they're used for." Garuvv paused, tilting his head to the side. "But not all of them are green. Do you want me to look into the green ones in particular?"

"I'm not sure. For now, I think gourds in general are a unique enough subject that any information about them might be important. The green part is just a detail."

Steppo held his breath, fully aware of the other man's stance on details, and waited for an answer. Garuvv took his time, staring at the scuffed floorboards between them, no doubt struggling to find a reason for this newfound interest in thick-skinned vegetables.

"So you want me to look into gourds," repeated Garuvv. "And not because you might start sharing your mother's pursuits."

"No, not at all," said Steppo hurriedly, choosing to ignore the reminder of how much the Iskarian knew about his background. "Not how to grow them, but things and events which involved them."

"This wouldn't happen to be a distraction tactic, would it?"

"A distraction from what?"

Garuvv scrutinized Steppo's genuinely baffled expression and finally gave in to its perceived sincerity.

"I've heard from the key palace asset. Or rather, I haven't."

"Susa?"

Garuvv nodded silently, and Steppo knew the operation must have gone awry when the spymaster failed to berate him for using an agent's name out in the open, no matter that there was no one else to hear.

"She was unable to monitor the proceedings, due to an unforeseen incident involving a certain minister's daughter."

Steppo closed his eyes and tried to stifle a groan.

"At least she's out of the trials now," he managed through gritted teeth.

"I wish I could say that for certain."

"There'll be other chances, and I shouldn't even be telling you this, because I trust you to manage that department. Now, the gourds are a different matter entirely. It started out as being personal, but I'm getting this horrible feeling that it's much more important. So please look into it for me."

"Having someone like you owe me a favor is quite the attractive proposition. But you realize I'll have to use the organization's assets for something that may or may not prove of interest to us."

"You will do it because you can't stomach the risk of ignoring something important. And there's no need to prevaricate - I know you can't resist a strange challenge."

"Gourds..." muttered Garuvv, then his head snapped up and he glared back at Steppo. "I haven't forgotten about your field trip proposal."

"What about it?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Just one thing: are you sure you can get away with it?"

There had been many protests Steppo had been expecting to hear, but this was not one of them.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Chief Strategist, that you're going to have to come up with Lenga's excuse to pull it off. They might even deny you access."

"Oh," mouthed Steppo, and then relaxed. "I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"It's good to hear you're so confident," muttered Garuvv in a decidedly skeptical tone. "I look forward to reading that report."

Loath to point out that he had no business reading documents that did not directly relate to his own department, Steppo finally decided to call it a day.

"I think I should go home now."

"No, you should have gone hours ago. In fact, you shouldn't have left home in the first place."

"I had to get away from the gourd."

Slowly, carefully, Steppo stood up, clasping Garuvv's proffered hand.

He held still as a bout of dizziness overtook him, then straightened and started for the nearest door.

"Don't forget you're on duty to clean next time," said Garuvv.

Steppo nodded absently, glancing around the training facility with uncharacteristic fondness. It was a plain, yet efficient space, since they couldn't afford a dockside warehouse and the members were respectable individuals who should have nothing to do with the groups that conducted their business there. Initially, they'd been at a loss regarding the procurement of such an establishment until a convenient plot of land cleared behind the headquarters of the Small Merchants' Association of Upper Kassi, and they built what they required themselves. Sufficiently large yet not striking, housing separate quarters for equipment storage, it was as simple as it was practical. Not for the first time since expanding their interests, Steppo felt grateful for the various members' input to the wellbeing of their entire community. He was proud to be able to name himself a part of this noble association and even more than before, he was now resolved to pull his weight and ensure the future of Liberty Pies and Pools. If he could find out what happened to his brother while maintaining his priorities, even better.

"Was there anything else?" asked Steppo when they finally emerged into the night. He bent to pick up the lock and chain by the door and set about securing the door.

"Off the top of my head, no."

Steppo's hand stilled as he was about to reach for the key in his pocket.

"What is it?"

"Nothing immediately concerning. I just have a similar feeling to what you've experienced with your terrifying gourd. It might turn into something more important than anticipated."

Steppo turned back to work on the door.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he offered, wary of how much disinterest he should feign.

"No. In fact, you should stay out of it entirely."

"I can't stay out of it if you don't tell me what it is. I might just stumble in accidentally."

"If you do «stumble in», I am certain it will not be accidental."

Steppo turned to face the other man.

"Now what am I supposed to do with that?"

Garuvv shook his head, then yielded at last.

"It's about the Catering newcomer."

"You mean Meri?"

"If that's her real name, which is highly unlikely."

"What-"

"I've decided she's a person of interest, that is all."

Steppo chewed on the statement for a second, then nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Please don't, or you might do something..."

"Stupid?"

"...rash."

"When have I ever-"

"Let's not go there."

They both sighed simultaneously, and Steppo knew then that he wasn't the only exhausted one. He rubbed a hand against his face, then raked it through his hair.

"I'll see what I can find out about the palace incident," he said, moving at last towards the faint lights marking the nearest city street. "Though I don't think she's likely to talk to me."

"You might have better luck with her attendant."

Steppo frowned at the darkness, unable to find Garuvv's eyes.

"What attendant? Don't tell me that hag Nazar-"

"We are on a no-name basis, Chief Strategist. And no, I'm talking about someone else entirely. In fact, I was hoping you'd shed some light on this development, but it seems I am better informed about the goings-on of your own household."

"I'll see what I can find out," murmured Steppo reluctantly.

"Don't break your back trying. It's in a sorry state already."

What pained Steppo the most was how right Garuvv was. If he stood any chance of being prepared for the hunt on Monarchy Day, he was looking towards a very boring immediate future, in which he'd have no choice but to nurse his wounds and pay off his sleep debt. As much as he abhorred inactivity under normal circumstances, he wasn't fooling anyone at the moment. Steppo longed for his own bed even more than he dreaded running into Tahni, and was ashamed to admit that if she felt like fighting again, he'd just give in and let her claim victory. Until the right time came along and he'd ship her off to Terevansia himself.

To dream of the day when they'd all be out of his hair... It almost brought a smile to his battered face.