Jei of the Dancing Dagger
12th of Summer, 518 Years after the Valterrian
12th of Summer, 518 Years after the Valterrian
Any dedicated, disciplined soldier woke when Syna’s rise. Their body was a trained clock, ready to move and act as if they'd been awake for hours. Jei was no different. As Syna peeked over the swells of the Suvan Sea to Syka’s east, Jei's eyes slid open smoothly, staring at the roof of his tent. Where those who hadn't been trained as a soldier would have stayed in their cot for more than a few chimes, the Myrian was up within three ticks, getting out of his cot and folding it up along with what few blankets he used. He set the sleeping paraphernalia to it's designated place, keeping the inside of his tent looking as neat as it always did.
It took him no more than a chime to get his clothes on, pulling on his underwear, pants, long-sleeved shirt, socks, boots, and jacket in what seemed like an eased, practiced motion. He wanted to spend less time on dressing and more on preparing his pack, which would take more time and more consideration.
Jei planned on staying the day in the nearby jungle wilds, exploring the fringe and maybe a little beyond, if he felt confident. He didn't know how different these nearby jungles were compared to those near Taloba, but without much of a militant leadership in Syka, he had the day to himself and felt he needed to do it. So he sat in his tent with his pack, emptied, in front of him. He didn't want to sleep the night there, so he didn't need a tent or his bedroll. But what he did need was the basic survival gear.
He counted out about fifty hands of rope and cut it free with his dagger, coiling it and placing at the bottom of his pack. His tarp went next, folded so that it'd take as little space as possible, though the pack was nearly full. Next went in his extra torch, in case the one he kept immediately on hand needed to be replaced. His flint and steel went into his pocket. One of his smaller daggers, sheathed, was strapped to the side of his lower leg, while the other, also sheathed, was strapped to the underside of his right forearm. He had little practice with them, but they were better than nothing. His favored weapon, though, the double-bladed dagger, was placed into the small loop he'd created on the back of his pants for it, so that it hid under his jacket.
Satisfied with his preparation, he left the tent. He could see the torches of the main area of the settlement a little ways away, but there wasn't much activity quite yet. That was fine, though, as he didn't need to speak with anyone until later in the day. For now, though, he took the flint and steel from his pocket and the second torch he'd left out and knelt.
He didn't have much practice setting fires, but he'd seen it done before. He had to strike the flint against the steel to create sparks, sparkes which would light the flammable material at the end of the rather thick wooden stick. He crouched and stabbed the torch into the sand so it stuck out, and prepared to hit the steel with the flint, before he waited.
Did he need it yet? His mind thought back to when he was back in Taloba, learning how to survive in the wilderness with his schoolmates. He couldn't remember a time when anyone used a torch early in the morning, as Syna was rising. And material wasn't infinite, so…
He placed the flint and steel back in his pocket and pulled the torch out of the ground. He'd conserve the light source until it was necessary, and it wasn't yet necessary.
(WC: 634)