Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece

The training session ended as the sun began its descent. Casting a warm golden hue across the sky.

Long shadows stretched over the worn training field. And the air was filled with the fading clang of weapons being sheathed.

Followed by the quiet shuffle of tired boots on hardened ground.

Kyle rolled his shoulders and wiped a streak of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

His muscles ached. But it was a good kind of ache. The kind that came from improvement.

As the others started gathering their gear. Kyle spoke up. "I'm cooking tonight."

Cassian turned, blinking. "Wait. You? Cooking?"

"Yeah," Kyle said, smirking a little.

"We have been eating the same tasteless porridge and dried scraps for weeks. I figured we could all use a break."

Serena looked mildly curious. "You can cook?"

"Better than whoever thought that porridge was acceptable food," Kyle replied.

Eleanora approached from the side. Brushing dirt from her gloves. "Kyle makes the best food," she said softly.

Kyle glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? How would you know that?"

She hesitated a beat. "Just a feeling," she said. Looking off to the side, avoiding his eyes.

He narrowed his gaze slightly but let it go.

"Alright. I will use whatever I can get from the camp supplies. Don't expect luxury. But it will taste better than dried bread."

Cassian grinned and slapped him on the back. "If it's even half-decent. I'll owe you big time."

Kyle and Cedric went off to gather ingredients. Between a few crates of common rations.

A reluctant quartermaster, and a stash of overlooked cooking herbs near the medical tent.

They found what they needed: Root vegetables, bits of preserved meat, stale bread, dried mushrooms, and a handful of seasoning leaves.

Back at the campfire.

Kyle got to work. He set up a cooking pot on a flat stone slab.

Gathered enough dry wood to build a steady flame, and began chopping and stirring.

The air soon filled with the savory scent of stew bubbling under the fire's warmth.

One by one. The others gathered near, drawn by the smell.

"I didn't think I missed real food this much," Cedric muttered, sniffing the air.

Kyle stirred the pot with practiced hands. "Almost done. Just give it a few more minutes."

Cassian sat down and fanned himself. "This is already better than anything I have had in this place."

When it was ready. Kyle personally handed out bowls. One by one.

"Eleanora," he said, handing her the first bowl. She accepted it with a small nod.

"Cedric," he said, passing another.

"Cassian. Serena. And you two," he added. Holding out bowls for Rook and Lena.

Rook sniffed the stew cautiously. "You sure this is edible?"

"Trust me," Kyle said dryly.

They all took their first bites in quiet.

And then came the reactions.

Cedric let out a satisfied sigh. "Okay. Okay. This is actually incredible."

Serena didn't say anything. But her bowl was already halfway empty.

Eleanora gave Kyle a faint smile between bites.

Cassian looked like he was about to cry. "I swear to God. This is the best stew I have ever had.."

Even Lena. Who usually looked unimpressed by everything, gave Kyle a glance.

"Didn't expect this from battlefield rations."

Kyle chuckled. "It's all about knowing what to do with what you have got."

They kept eating until their bowls were clean. Talking softly about the day's training and tomorrow's patrols.

The fire crackled. Casting flickering light across their faces.

A little while later. Lena rubbed her eyes and yawned. "I'm feeling really sleepy…"

"Yeah, me too," Rook said with a tired grunt. Stretching his arms. "Weird. I was wide awake earlier."

"Probably just the heat from the stew," Kyle offered, keeping his tone casual. "Warm food after training can knock you out."

They nodded, mumbled a few goodnights, and wandered off to their tent.

The others stayed by the fire. Chatting or cleaning their weapons under the night sky.

An hour passed.

Eventually, Kyle stood up and stretched. "I will be right back," he said.

He walked quietly across the camp. The moonlight dim and pale as he reached the edge where Rook and Lena's tent stood.

A few guards passed by in the distance, but none paid him any mind.

Kyle slipped inside.

The air inside was stuffy. Filled with the faint scent of leather and smoke.

Lena lay curled up on her side. Her dark hair messy against the blanket. Her breathing was deep and even.

Rook was flat on his back. One arm slung across his chest. His face was calm, completely at peace. Snoring lightly.

They were both fast asleep.

Just as expected.

———

[Flashback]

Earlier that evening. While everyone had been talking and laughing around the fire.

Kyle had stood beside the pot, quietly tending to the stew.

His hands moved with practiced ease. Stirring, checking the heat. Adjusting the flavor with small pinches of salt and dried herbs.

But then. When no one was watching, his hand slipped into the inside of his sleeve.

From a small hidden pouch. He took out two pinches of dried, pale-green herbs.

They crumbled easily between his fingers.

Sleeping herbs. Or more accurately. Relaxants. Used by medics to calm injured soldiers and help them rest. Safe. Gentle. Non-lethal.

He had taken them from the medic tent earlier that week.

Kyle glanced over his shoulder. Cassian and Cedric were laughing about something.

Lena and Rook were sitting close to the fire. Talking quietly between themselves.

No one was paying attention.

He turned back and gently sprinkled the herbs into two bowls of stew. Carefully, precisely.

Not enough to raise suspicion. Just enough to slow their breathing, make them drowsy.

Then he stirred them both, mixing it evenly, and placed those two bowls aside. Separate from the others.

A minute later, when he began handing the bowls out. He made sure those exact two went to Lena and Rook.

"Eat up," he had said with a smile.

And they did.

Now—

Back in their tent. Kyle crouched beside Rook's bedroll.

Rook didn't stir. The man's chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.

His mouth hung open slightly, and his limbs were loose and relaxed.

Kyle moved carefully. Making no sound. The flickering lantern outside cast soft orange light through the canvas wall, barely enough to see by.

He started with Rook's gear. His bag was simple. Mostly standard field supplies.

Kyle opened the side pouches first.

A few copper coins. One dented water flask. Two small vials of mana potion and one health potion.

A whetstone. A badly folded map of the nearby outpost area. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He checked Rook's belt pouch next. It held a few sharpened arrowheads and a small folded piece of cloth. Likely a cleaning rag for his weapon.

Still nothing strange.

Kyle stood slowly. Eyes moving toward the other side of the tent. Toward Lena's gear.

She was curled up under her blanket, facing away from him.

Her hair was a mess, strands covering part of her cheek. She looked peaceful. Harmless, even.

But Kyle had learned never to trust a peaceful face.

He knelt beside her pack and opened it silently.

Inside was a similar setup to Rook's: Some potions. Bandages. A few extra dagger sheaths.

There was even a small notebook filled with battle notes and spell sequences.

Probably her attempts at practicing control in the dungeon. Still, nothing suspicious.

He narrowed his eyes and reached for her left hand.

Slowly, gently. He removed the silver storage ring from her finger and channeled a small thread of mana into it.

The internal space opened in his mind.

It was organized.

Kyle browsed through its contents mentally. More rations. Three blank journals. A flint striker.

A few health and mana potions. Some first-aid supplies. One spare uniform.

Nothing unusual. Again.

He closed the storage ring and slipped it back onto her finger.

Kyle's brow furrowed. Was he wrong?

Was all of this just paranoia?

He was about to pull back and leave. When his gaze landed on the pair of earrings resting on Lena's folded cloak beside her bedroll.

Small, silver studs with a red gemstone in the center. Decorative. Elegant.

Something you would expect a mercenary to wear if they had time before getting dragged into a hellish battlefield.

He reached out and picked one up carefully.

The moment his fingers touched it. He felt it.

A faint hum. Barely noticeable. But definitely there.

He narrowed his eyes. Focused.

The surface shimmered faintly. Like a thin veil of mana was coating it, hiding something beneath.

Kyle concentrated, sending a precise pulse of mana into the earring.

A small hidden storage space item.

And inside that space?

One single item.

A smooth red stone. Its surface glowed with an inner warmth, and engraved in the center was a familiar insignia.

A crimson sword encircled by twin rings.

The Red Legion's symbol.

Kyle held the stone in his palm. Feeling the low thrum of magic vibrating from it.

He didn't need to ask what it was. He had seen something similar before with Commander Halric and other captains.

It was a communication stone.

Specifically designed for long-distance transmission between commanders and their scouts.

Kyle stared at the stone for a long moment.

Then a slow, cold smile formed on his lips.

"I knew it," he whispered.

Rook was still snoring softly.

Lena didn't move, still deep in sleep.

Whatever game Rook and Lena were playing.

It was time to rewrite the rules.

———