The soldiers of Darshal finally passed. Then came the soldiers from Lu'mata. Lydie hadn't understood the shift from ruby and sapphire armor to bronze and scarlet until an older man pointed out to his granddaughter Lu'mata's flag now being waved from the poles more experienced officers carried from their heightened positions on horses. No women marched in the blocks now. At least, not as far as Lydie could tell. Discerning the men and women apart in armor truly proved a difficult task, especially since the women either had their hair cut short or tied up tightly under their helmets. No extra soldiers walked on the sides offering up cloths either. The people continued to shout and encourage, but their voices rang quieter from exhaustion.

Half an hour the march lasted. A small gathering of citizens took to the streets to follow the procession out of the city, yet the majority resumed their original paths. Lydie stuck herself to the nearby corner to allow the sidewalks to clear. However, not all had forgotten her. A man thrice her age in weathered suspenders and his wife with her hair in a neat bun casually wandered over.

"An honor token, huh? Lucky girl." the man spoke.

"Honor token?"

"Not from the south?" the man questioned, and Lydie ignored the bite of disapproval in his voice.

"It's...I," she stumbled with heavy lips, "I was actually just released from a healing ward. The vast majority of my memories were lost as I suffered a significant head injury."

Disbelief in the man's expression matched his disapproval until she brushed back her hair to reveal the shaved section where the scar still shone red. His expression softened, and his wife cast her a sympathetic smile.

"My apologies then. The city is filling up with those who should have stayed and held their ground while word has come that spies from the north are sneaking into the larger cities. One can't be too careful anymore."

"It is no worry," Lydie shook her head, "So, what is an honor token then?"

"Did you see how the man who gave that to you had different armor?" the man's wife asked, and she continued when Lydie nodded, "The men of the south are required to spend three years in the military once they reach adulthood. Serving for additional time also happens in contracts of three years. Those soldiers, however, pledge to fight until the conflict is over or until they perish in the struggle. They receive additional training and become members of Suraryl's Will. Naturally, they receive great compensation for their sacrifice as they risk their lives at higher stakes. Each one is given a cloth like you have there to stitch his name upon before gifting it out to one of his choosing among the crowds he passes on his first leaving for battle. By receiving a token, the soldier is declaring on his honor that he will protect you at all costs. He will think of you as he thinks of all he holds dear when facing the enemy. In return, you pray for his safety and do what you can to support Darshal in this troubled time."

"You also need to take the token to the Records Auxiliary." the man added.

"What for?" Lydie wondered, already knowing of the Records Auxiliary as Ti'pahn told her that was where she needed to go to find out news about the search of her identity.

"The soldier sets a portion of his pay to go to him and his family, and he sets a portion of his pay to go to the one to which he gives his token. If he dies, you will receive your portion. If he lives, he can choose to give you your allotment, give you only some of it, or retain it for his family. Few choose to keep the extra money. That is why those of Suraryl's Will often give the cloths to mothers with young children or young children themselves. They tend to need the most help during wartime."

"That, or they give it to some lass they find pretty. I'd say he chose you for both reasons." the man once again kept himself in the conversation.

"In any case," his wife rolled her eyes, "You need to go to the Records Auxiliary to register that you are the one who received his token."

"I see. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I hope everything goes well for you and your family in your own troubled time."

Lydie spoke nothing as the woman offered another pleasant expression before patting an eager Kenth's hair. Correcting her would prove too pitiful. Lying, however...

"If you don't mind, I have one more question. My sister is looking for employment. She doesn't have any particular skills, but she's a hard worker. I told her I would assist in asking around, but with my memory being what it is I am finding I'm a little out of sorts and getting few results. Would you happen to know of a better place to look?"

"Hmm, well, this area isn't too good for jobs, unless you get incredibly lucky. It's the first place everyone comes to find hire," the man relayed, "The men from northern Darshal who should be fighting have taken all the hard manual labor jobs, but a young lass shouldn't be doing such work anyway. The nobles and rich ones often have a use for extra cleaners. You could check with one of their head staff. Otherwise, stores in the third district should offer a decent selection."

"That's where she is now. I'll find her and put our efforts together there. Thank you once again."

"It was no problem. You and your son have a good day, my dear." the woman bade farewell.

The couple strode off, arms linked, while Lydie pondered. The upper districts were south down the road. The richest of the rich and the nobles dominated the first district, and the second district housed those who were merely rich and the administration buildings. Starting there and working her way back made more sense than starting close, wandering far, and having to trek to the Lavenmore when exhausted. It was the best plan. First things first though, Lydie unwound the token on her wrist.

Tomald Nun'ri. He'd stitched his name in deep emerald green thread. Perhaps it was his favorite color, or perhaps it was all he had. The letters were uneven, the bunched fabric signified several restarts, and the end knots bumped against her thumb. However, great care had gone into the effort. Tomald went for intricate lettering while his name sat perfectly centered. He had bothered to redo what he'd failed instead of simply completing the task.

Guilt churned her stomach. Lydie's gaze sank to the ground as her fingers holding the token quivered. That would be nice. Such a thought had danced in her mind at the mention of money freely given due to nothing more a man randomly picking her out of the crowd. Yes, money freely given. Money that required a man's death.

And she'd been excited at the prospect.

Well, it wasn't something she would entertain in her mind ever again. Lydie wrapped the cloth around her wrist once more with firm dedication. That she didn't know how she was meant to pray for Tomald's safety didn't matter as she would do it regardless. An afternoon of hunger, a temporary pain in her head, a mystery that would surely be solved soon...how could it compare to blood, gore, and killing? Not to mention the death of friends and comrades. Leaving behind loved ones. Her sorry lot wasn't sorry at all now that Lydie pondered it. Her feet almost took her dashing down the path to catch up to the army. A measly 'thank you' hardly sufficed for the gift she wore.

Logic forced her steps in the opposite direction. The fourth district became the third, and Lydie resisted the temptation to make a detour to the healing ward as she passed the quiet street on her right. Her determination wouldn't last upon seeing Ti'pahn, and he most likely wasn't there anyway. So on she journeyed into new territory until the scenery overwhelmed her humble core with tall buildings sporting detailed columns, statues, and intricate hedges as men and women in ever more impressive clothing swarmed between them. The dress from Ti'pahn's well off family blended Lydie in decently enough with those around her, yet the tight timidness in her chest screamed that this wasn't her place. The massive grass courtyard containing deeply cushioned benches, trimmed flower bushes, azure colored ponds, and trickling fountains couldn't come soon enough. Stalwart buildings outlining the area marked the beginning of the government core of Rydan.

"Excuse me," Lydie quietly addressed the most approachable person nearby, a woman twice her age donning a wide brimmed hat, "Where can I find the Records Auxiliary?"

"It's that one there."

The woman pointed to a three-story building with a glass dome on the center of the bronze gilted roof. Two twin statues of armored men riding muscled stallions decorated the entrance at the wide set of stairs leading up to the entrance. The woman walked off without another word while Lydie breathed deeply to join the small, scattered collection of bodies making their way inside. A deeply shined white stone floor gently tapped under her boots. The soft scratching of pen on paper met her as she took a spot in the multiples queues before the long stretch of processing desks. Behind the barrier of men and women in deep blue matching outfits stood a twenty-foot statue of the Justiciar. He radiated in the light of the brass lamps and glittering rays of sun streaming down from the dome above. A buzz of soft chatter hovered over those conversing in line or silently glancing around as she did. Some of those glances hardened and stared when Kenth fussed, but handing him half a piece of the herbed bread she'd thought to wrap and bring with her quieted him and dissolved the judging eyes. A large clock against the wall tracked the passing of ten more minutes. One of the men in blue waved her up to the desk.

"Identification, please," he requested with an outstretched hand. Lydie handed him her papers, and he instantly began writing away on an official looking form after opening it, "Miss Dvanda, how may I help you?"

"Um, I was given an honor token," she lifted her wrist, "And I was hoping to see if any results had come in about my missing persons report."

"Who did you report missing?"

"I didn't. The report is for me."

The man raised a brow high and stopped writing.

"I-I was found injured in the woods, and when I woke up the healers at the ward discovered I'd lost my memory. I was told that requests for any reports including someone of mine or this child’s description were sent to the surrounding areas so that we could hopefully find where we're supposed to be. The healer at the ward instructed me to check here to see if the information had come in."

"What was the name of the healer?"

"Ti'pahn Arden."

"Was he the one who sent the request for the reports?"

"I...I don't know. It might have been the head healer, Russe Mett, who sent the request. I wasn't told."

The pen scribbled furiously on the paper. The man nodded briefly, and when his flying hand finally slowed he motioned to the space behind the desk where couches and other soft seats widely encircled the Justiciar statue and flowing fountain surrounding his base.

"If there's nothing else, please wait back here, Miss Dvanda. Someone will be with you soon."

"There's nothing else. Thank you."

Lydie hurriedly stepped out of line and made her way around the desk.