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9

Milis waves to her coworkers and frowns when she sees how late it is. She doesn't like staying until dusk, but since it costs a lot to leave Jama, she has no choice. At least today was a success. The female lost count on the amount of sales they had, but she does remember all of the costumers she helped when it comes to custom orders. One shy of twenty. She has tomorrow off, but on the following day she'll try her hardest to beat her old record of twenty-one.

The young adult stares at the clear sky. There's bound to be a full moon tonight. Milis sighs. She misses the nights where she and Triest would lie in her backyard and just stare at the moon and stars. They never said a word. Hearing the sounds that came at night was more than enough. The sergal smiles weakly. Their parents never brought them inside no matter how late it became. The smile fades. Looking at the moon now wouldn't be the same. Not after what came of Groot.

She jumps when there's a bird like squeal off in the distance and shakes her head in disgust. Can't they wait a little longer? Milis freezes when she hears a familiar voice. No, it can't be. The sergal hears it again. It's Triest! Milis lets out her own call. There was nothing she could do to save the others, but tonight she'll be damned if she loses her best friend. They've been through way too much to have things end like this.

The sergal hears her friend let out another shout and follows where it came from. With any luck she'll cut him off and make it look like he belongs to her. Triest should recognize her vocals. Milis lets out a series of yelp, and hears a shout in return. She's not far. After tonight and if others are willing, it's time they do what they can to protect those who have to work late.

_ _ She hears a series of angry yelps and demands. One of them must've come close of snagging Triest, but the mutum was able to fight back. Good. Milis runs as fast as she can and begs for a miracle. She's close, she just knows it. The sergal makes it to the street that acts like a border between where sergals and non-sergals live, and notices a mutum off in the distance. She lets out a small yelp and heads in his direction. Milis sighs in relief when her friend runs toward her. She sees fear in Triest's eyes.

The mutum falls to the ground and rolls onto his stomach. The sergal slams her foot onto his back, and notices her friend run a finger on her toe claw. He wants her to make it look more realistic. Milis digs her claws into the mutum's back. Once this is over and she brings him to her house, she'll see if her father has a tunic he can give to Triest. It isn't long until a lone sergal runs into view. The young man makes an attempt to escape, but Milis slams him to the ground. With any luck the hunter won't know it's all an act.

"Hey. You no one of Vil's friends," the sergal said. "What you doing with our prey?"

"I'm far from being a friend of his, you got that right, and as for what I'm doing with him," Milis bounces her foot on Triest's back. "Capturing my lousy servant is all."

"Servant? I see no tags."

"This simithe keeps forgetting to put his on. You know what they are."

"If true, then how'd obtain a blade?"

"I see you've gone through my things. Again," Milis squats so she can smack the back of Triest's head and holds out her hand. "Hand it over now and your punishment won't be as severe."

Triest does so while avoiding making eye contact. He winces in pain when Milis smacks him a couple of more times.

"Damn worthless simithe," Milis grumbles as she sticks the knife in her purse. "No concept of right or wrong."

"That simithe stabbed my friend," the male sergal points at the mutum angrily. "It must pay."

"Oh he'll pay all right, but not by your hand. There are no laws that punish mutums and pagkas for defending themselves with or without a weapon. Servant or otherwise."

"If it's such a simithe, why keep it? Hand it over and be done."

"Not a chance," Milis laughs. "He's nothing more than a salak, but he works hard when he does. It'll be hard to find another."

"No it won't," the sergal gestures toward where non-sergals live.

"New? Damn jarl made it illegal to grab a useless being from their home even if you're a general. Now leave so I may bring this simithe back."

"General Baas never say it a servant."

"Not surprising. Now be gone."

Milis grabs the back of Triest's neck and yanks him to his feet. She ignores the blood dripping down his back. The sergal looks over her shoulder to see the other one walk in the opposite direction. She's unsure on how Vil will react to tonight, but General Baas won't let it go. Things may turn out bad for mutums and pagkas, but she looks forward to the day that bastard turns up dead.

The sergal releases her grip as they're about to enter her house and glances behind her. They weren't followed. She closes and locks the front door, tells Triest to wait for her in the kitchen and grabs some medicine and bandages for mutums from the bathroom. The sergal informs her dad she's back, and asks if he has any tunics he can give to Triest.

"I'm sure I do, but what for?" Dea opens a drawer to his dresser.

"I'm not sure on the whole thing, but it sounds like General Baas wanted Triest killed. I had to hurt him in order save him."

"I see. Go tend Triest. I'll be right out."

"Yes pa," Milis enters the kitchen and sees her friend folding his tunic. "Will you be fine?"

"I live. No say pain. Ya no be bad."

"I knew you were going to say that, and I don't," the female sergal fills a bowl with warm water. "Now what was that about and how does it involve that bastard?"

"Triest. Pity your presence couldn't have been on better circumstances," Dea places a light purple tunic on the table and claims a chair. "And before you ask, that's for you."

"I thank ya," the mutum winces when his friend washes his back and does his best to describe what General Baas wanted him to do. "Baas mad. I do order by time. He pay. I get some. Other gen tell Baas no come back."

"If he already hasn't done horrible things, I'd say that's low even by him," Dea shakes his head. "At least even he is unable to get away with everything."

"But almost succeeded at having Triest killed," Milis said. "Who gave you that knife?"

"Sergal at work. She gave day order for protection," the young man grins. "I tell it worked."

"I'm sure she wasn't expecting you in actually using it," the male sergal smiles. "You truly finished a hundred and fifty badges in one day?"

"I do. No easy but do. Tomorrow easy. Some orders."

"Good. I'm not sure who could've succeeded at that," Milis covers four tiny holes with a bandage. "There. Good as new."

"I thank ya. Big."

"It's no problem. Tomorrow I'll inform Lelei what Baas tried to pull, and don't tell me no, Triest. She needs to know."

Triest puts on Dea's tunic. "Sure she know. Hear sergal cry."

"True, but still."

"Triest, I need to ask," Dea points to a bruise on the mutum's face. "How'd you get that?"

"Baas kick. After I kiss feet. Then punch twice"

"Let me see," Milis studies the bruise and mumbles. "Damn that bastard."

"It okay. Gen Oro sorry for him," Triest said. "Please talk no more. Time forget."

"I have no problem with that. Now, do you want to stay put for the night, or should I walk you home?"

"Home, please. It ready," the mutum looks at Dea. "Come too, si?"

"No. You two need a nice stroll after tonight," the sergal turns to his daughter. "I do ask you change. And grab your gun."

"Yes, pa."

Milis steps out of her room several minutes later. She has on a light orange tunic that goes down to her knees, and a black belt with a holster. The holster holds a silver black pistol along with a dagger. The sergal sighs. It may be a long time before it's safe to walk in Groot this time of night. She follows Triest out the door.

The sergal holds her friend's hand as she walks beside him. Going for walks is another thing they use to do before the war. Milis wants to travel down memory lane, but knows Triest wouldn't like it. He prefers to stay in the present. She smiles warmly. Even after everything he's been through, he finds ways to remain positive and strong, and that alone encourages her to do the same. The fact they're still best friends is proof, and that's one thing nobody can destroy.

She follows her friend into his hut and lights a couple of lamps. He leads her into the backroom. Metal scraps are all over the place. Triest always seems to find a use for things others call junk. Her eyes gaze upon everything the young man forged. The items range from decorative daggers and swords to plaques of all kinds. The mutum pulls a large cloth off an object. Milis' eyes grew wide at the contraption she sees.

The first thing that catches her eyes is the amount of gears and wheels it has. They're all of various sizes and seem to have their own job, whatever that might be. Milis notices leather straps wrapped around each gear and wheel. She then spots close to two dozen mallets with a yarn head hovering above bars. That alone tells her the main purpose of this contraption is to make music. It's pretty damn clear the mutum made everything by scratch. The sergal smiles when she hears Triest talk to it. Some things never change. The young man looks at her.

"It ready," he said. "Know song, si?"

Milis watches her friend step on a pedal. Seconds later gears and wheels turn at different speeds. A rather large one turns slower than the others. The mallets hit the bars, but she's unable to recognize the song. Triest activates another pedal and soon more gears spin, and that causes additional mallets to do their thing. Milis perks her ears toward the contraption. She recognizes the song. It's from her music box. The sergal's eyes tear up as memories of her mama return.

She leaves Triest's hut thirty minutes later. He shown her the other songs he can play on the contraption, and they're all stuff they grew up playing when they were young. Milis smirks as she thinks about the young man's plan. Won't the residents be surprised to see the simithe play music from a machine he built from scratch? The sergal knows both of their mamas would be proud of him.

The sergal sits on the edge of her bed and stares at her music box. It's been a while since she last played it, and hearing Triest recreate the song convinces her to give it some love. Milis turns the crank gently, just as her friend told her years ago, places it on her dresser and watches the sergal figurine dance. She hugs her pillow and pretends her mama is right beside her.