2412, Strilaxis 18, Jyda

He started growing tired of sauntering in and pretending he owned the place. He lost count of how many times he did it, and he was doing it again, this time, in the kitchens. Despite taking half a day of stalking people in order to find where Synketros cooked meals to power an entire mountain, he arrived at his destination an hour before dinner.

How could he tell the time? Simple. After spending a night and a full day here, he had become proficient at deciphering the different gongs ringing in the entire place at random times throughout the day. Then, at night, the lights would go down and slowly plunge the place into darkness, forcing everyone to sit still and sleep. It was literally black when the last of the light rods died out. He knew because he tried sneaking out when his unwilling roommates were sleeping and had to duck back in out of sheer cowardice. There's simply no way he would brave sneaking around the induced void.

So, he would have to execute his plans in broad rodlight, even if it meant entering a random room and being shoved straight into the mess he'd walk into.

This became the case when he passed an ornate meeting room of some sort, glimpsed of the velvet-cushioned seats around an elliptical table in the middle, and the blinding chandelier fixed on the ceiling. The sight did little to prepare him for the chaos that was the kitchens.

The moment he swung the door to the kitchens in, a mass of steaming trays of food stacked on top of each other rushed towards his face. It took all his willpower to swallow his yelp as he moved out of the way.

"Hey, watch it, kid!" a gruff voice shouted from the inside as the server scrambled out the door. Where would they bring it? To the Sovereign herself? Was she here somewhere? "If you're here to clean, we won't be finished until the final hour of the fourth quarter."

A lie. Dinner has half an hour left, and whatever's left on the tables and the preparation room would be split by the kitchen staff. They wouldn't be willing to share with a runty cleaner boy, which was unfortunately Rhys at the moment. Not that he wanted another slimy fairy potion down his throat, but Hexen's underpants, that soup looked so appealing. Should he stay permanently in the kitchens?

He fixed the band on his sleeves, swiped from the real cleaner on his way out of his room. He beamed at the tall fairy donning a stained apron over his standard tunic and trousers. A bandana pushed blue hair off his forehead and away from the food. Either a banshee or nature fairy then.

"Sorry, was just passing by for any maintenance work," Rhys chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. He'd have to play someone stupid and bumbling enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time to deflect any suspicion he came here with a purpose. "Do you have any? A pipe not working? Perhaps dulled knives?"

He kept talking, pointing out every flaw in the utensils, the floor, and the clothes. Slowly, he eased closer to the kegs at the far side of the room. Like the maze in the lobby, they contained endless amounts of ingredients. He came here for one thing, though. A large clump of juripan leaves. Perfect for seasoning to taste. At the same time, consuming large amounts would make anyone wide awake for more than a day. If he's going to combat a potion inhibiting focus and cognitive ability, might as well add something like this too.

The blue-haired man stared at Rhys all throughout, arms crossed over his chest like he disapproved of Rhys' mere presence in this room. Did he catch them doing something illegal? Well, just belonging to Synketros was against common sense, but look where they were now. He sidled next to the keg brimming with the blue-and-purple leaves he came here for.

"I can also do a mean fresda carving which I think the generals would find hard to eat," Rhys rambled on, filling any eavesdropper and onlooker's minds with visual images to distract them from the actual thing happening in front of them. "My friends say my carvings are so cute they can barely imagine sticking a fork in it. Would you want me to do that?"

"Get out," the cook snapped, making Rhys' conjured character flinch in reply. Seeing as how no one was standing up to him or refuting his orders, he must be the head cook.

Rhys bowed profusely and scooted towards the door. "Sorry," he said. "I'm new here. Probably came off too eager."

The head cook laughed, throwing his head back and making the sheared ends of his blue hair flop against the back of his neck. "Keep those wits about you, boy," he said. "I'm sure Kriachoria will squeeze them out of ya until you bleed."

That wasn't reassuring, and Rhys took it as a sign to flee out of the kitchen. He'd give Head Cook the win this time. Besides, he got what he wanted. As he walked back towards his stolen room, he held up the clump of rumpled leaves to his face. A smile spread across his lips. The experiment would continue tonight.

2412, Strilaxis 25, Briss

Rhys loitered with the rest of the foragers today, fixing the straps of his woven basket on his shoulders. The flimsy material dug against his muscles, threatening to squeeze his arms off the joints. He had been standing here for more than an hour and nothing was happening. All around him, the foragers milled about, talking to each other in low tones or picking at the exposed ends of the dried leaves used in weaving their baskets.

It was a perfect time to make friends, but seeing how most of them melted into their specific circles, it'd be awkward to budge in and start rambling. He pursed his lips and swung his basket off his form, setting it on the ground. At that moment, a stout woman walked in and a hush fell over the entire group.

"Okay, listen up, leafheads," she said, tapping a board against her thigh as the foragers gathered around her, as if they're expecting to be picked for something. "We'll be going out in teams today. No more individual foraging."

A collective groan arose from the people. The woman, whom Rhys assumed to be the master of the foragers, raised her palms to the crowd in an attempt to quell them. "Now, now. We all know how dangerous it is for one person to go about the winding forests of Akaron," she said. The violet bun bounced at the back of her head when she turned here and there to make everyone in the group feel included and acknowledged. "But I've been noticing several absences over the recent weeks. Either something happened on their assignment or they've done something worse."

She leveled her gaze on them. "They ran away," she said. Silence hung at the end of her words. Then, she squared her shoulders and brought her board within the scope of her vision. "Now, let's see. When I call your name, step forward."

Bile rose to Rhys' throat. Would his name be in there, seeing as he wasn't a forager for long? He has been using the "I just got here"-card as a remedy for far too many situations to far too many people. At some point, they'd realize he's been scurrying everywhere like an out-of-control cleret.

The woman's words rang across the crowd, the people shifting like a magical wave of tunics and baskets. Soon, more than ten groups of foragers gathered at the far end of the cavern. Rhys looked around him. There were six people left. One would have to stay behind. Rudik's breeches, let it not be him. He's prepared to fight tooth and wing for a breath of fresh, Avaloran air.

More names were called. At the final slot, Rhys raised a hand, getting the woman's attention. "I'm new here," he said. "It's my first time foraging. I was recommended here by the kitchen staff after I fumbled yesterday. I would like to try my hand at this job, so as to not be so useless."

A few snickers from the groups that were already clumped together. The woman didn't sound impressed. "Name?" she said in a tone that was a mix of bored and annoyed.

"Blay Reckings," he blurted. It's the lamest fake name he had ever used in his lifetime. He could have gone with Roak Tayren, but no. He had to go with Blay Reckings.

The woman plucked a graphite stick from the back of her head—it seemed stuck into her bun—and scribbled something on the bottom half of the parchment. "Fine, we'll go with you," she said. "Fall in line over there."

She pointed west with the tip of her writing stick. Rhys was about to head there with the rest of his team when a sharp voice whizzed into his ears. "Wait just a second," he turned to find a woman with inky black hair and the lightest brown eyes he had ever seen. Unlike the others, she wore her tunic pulled up at the sleeves and her hair scattered over her face like wild leaves. "I didn't get to go last time either. When will it be my turn?"

Oh, dear. A dissenter. She'd stand out more than Rhys would, but if she managed to sway the woman to going out, he'd lose his chance to pilfer more ingredients for the project he's working on—one that might benefit more people than he counted on.

He faced her and smiled. "I'm sure you'd be willing to give up your spot to help a junior out," he said. "I'd consider it an eternal debt."

Instead of melting into a puddle of appreciation, the girl crossed her arms and whipped to the woman, completely ignoring Rhys' existence. "He can sit this one. There's always next time," she said. "You said that to me last time. It's only fair."

Rhys opened his mouth to argue when the woman shot both of them a withering look. "Youngsters today, too eager to get Kriachoria's attention," she muttered under her breath and whirled to Rhys. "As long as you return at the end of the day, you're going."

It implied she had little trust in the other girl and would be willing to bet her head for a newcomer than her. Something to note. Maybe. He ducked his head at her in respect. "I swear on Daexis' name," he said. "I'll be back before you know it."

The woman chuckled and reached out, tapping Rhys' arm. Oh, it's because of that. Did she...fancy him? Oh. "You're not going home to me, dear," she said, batting her eyelashes at him. Ugh. No. "No need to utter such oaths."

"It's only proper, madam," Rhys said with a smile. At least, he'd have one Synketrian under his thumb if he played her affection right. Call it evil or something else, to him, it's genius.

When no more words were to be exchanged, he jogged to catch up to his team, feeling a bit smug about himself. What for? His looks? Whatever. He's going out.

And the moment the frigid forest air slapped him in the face, he couldn't be happier. Days spent cooped up inhaling stale, recycled air made one reminiscent of the open space. The rest of his team scattered into all unnameable directions, leaving Rhys to stumble forward on his own. So much for staying together.

He opened his palms and summoned his magic into the surface. It flared to life in an instant. Great. He'd get to cast spells as soon as he's out. Noted. He'd have to find more opportunities to step out without raising suspicions. Foraging was the best job in Umazure.

The forests were easier to navigate with natural light glaring down from the thick canopies. Eventually, he made it to the merchant square. Tucked between the walls lining the towns carved deep into the mountains, the cacophony of metallic clunks and dagrine neighs told him he's arrived.

Within the next few minutes, he had stuffed his pockets with as much ingredients for the potion he's working on as they could carry without bulging. By the time he was finished touring the square, he had only gathered about half of his basket. Oh, dear. That couldn't be good.

He stomped back to the thicker undergrowth, leaving the comfort of the attempt at making a manicured road, and grabbed whatever produce he could find. As long as it's bright, fleshy, and looked edible, he took it. He was running himself out of breath when he made it back to the tavern. His team didn't bother waiting for him, so he strode right in. With the basket and the band around his arm, he needn't touch his shoulders, but he did it anyway. Now, he got why some people were still inclined to do that. It's fun being in on an unspoken secret.

When he got back to the woman and laid his basket at her feet like a pathetic offering, she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Not bad for your first day, leafhead," she said. "I'll have you out of here more often so long as you bring me full next time."

Rhys didn't bother looking for the girl with dark hair and smirking her way. It looked like he had just bought his way to more freedom inside the cage.