Honestly, Professor Pito couldn’t complain. Languishing in an infirmary was not her idea of a well spent quarter-season, but what could one expect after managing to survive an explosion. Mild head trauma and smoke inhalation would take time to recover from, after all. Perhaps she should focus on the storm cloud’s sun-sheen, and count it as a mini vacation. She was so stressed recently, what with Solam and his ilk limiting everyone’s access to  Adwin,  who was quite possibly the greatest thing to ever happen to her career.

She looked over to the offending officer. He was sleeping. He had been  a bit  more agreeable for the past few bels. Whether that was due to an order from his commanding officer or from a slightly more aggressive cocktail of drugs administered by the nurses, she could not say. Either way, looking at the soldier’s peacefully sleeping face, she found that she could no longer feel as upset with him as she did before.  While she did not, and likely would never, agree with the officers’ opinion on the matter, she could admittedly understand it. The  human  was an almost complete unknown to them. To an academic like herself, that meant discovery. To soldiers like them, that meant danger.

Just then, the linguist heard a now familiar sound; the clopping of military boots. She turned her head towards the footsteps. Oh, it was General Hydor. There was a sense of something determined in her stride, rushed even. Clearly there was something urgent she needed to discuss with her colonel. How unfortunate for him, he really needed his rest. Pito decided it would best to for her to just turn her head and pretend not to hear whatever important conversation that was about to spark out beside her.

“Professor Pito?” came the general’s voice.

She was addressing  the linguist instead of the officer?  Pito turned herself again to face Hydor. “Yes, general?” her confusion was as  plain  in her voice as it was on  the expression on  her face.

“I hear you’re getting better.”  said the general.

The lingust was sure that they had discussed her health and recovery the last time that the general visited. “Y-- Yes, I am… I think.”

An awkward silence sat between them. The general looked uncomfortable. The professor definitely felt uncomfortable.

Eventually, Hydor hissed out a sigh. “Look, I’m just gonna come out and say it. I know  who you are. And I know that you’ve been doing more here than studying  human  culture and language.”

The linguist felt a chill in her core.

“I’ve known since before I arrived here.” quickly  continued the general,  forestalling any attempt by the professor to misdirect, mischaracterise, or minimise  her  now exposed  role at Project Frost-Fae.

“Oh… I…” Pito s queaked out as she  stole a glance at the man sleeping next to her.

Hydor noticed. “No, he didn’t tell me. Your  family  connections aren’t exactly  a state  secret, professor.” the general clarified.

“Y—Yes… Right…” sighed the linguist deflatedly.

The general paced over to the other side of the professor’s bed. “I recently received a comm call. On a royal line. I’m sure you can guess who  was on the other side of that line.”

Yes, yes she did. In lieu voicing out that out, the professor simply nodded.

“Someone in the palace is very concerned about the fact that you were injured here. Very, very concerned.”

Another surprise for the linguist. “Ho-- How did he know I was hurt?”

“Deduction I suppose.”  commented General Hydor. “These projects are top-secret, so not even most ministers should know what’s happening here. But  it would have been hard to hide the effects of the explosion; increased requests for medical supplies and personnel, some of the more badly injured staff being shuttled out for more specialised care, not to mention Chief Nalor’s new Health and Safety protocols. Everyone knows those things only get updated when really bad accidents happen  somewhere.”  The officer sighed and shrugged.  “Combine that with the way you suddenly stopped ‘checking in’, and it doesn’t take much to figure out that something  might have  happened to you.”

“Oh, I see…” said Pito.

“Look, I don’t want to get too much into the details right now, but it will be a bit of a problem if you don’t ‘report’ to your royal contact in the very near future. ” The general paused for a bit as she glanced over to the front desk of the infirmary. “Given the fact that you’re practically completely recovered already, I don’t think I’ll have trouble getting you medically cleared within a bel.”

This made sense to Professor Pito.  General Hydor was the highest ranking officer on he compound, but the doctors outrank even her when it came to medical matters.  The final say would have to come from the medical staff.  But, as the general said, a clean bill of health was little more than a formality at this point. This could probably work. “Okay, I understand.”

“Very good. Please let me know when you’ve been released. Given the... ‘sensitivity’ of this situation, I will let you use the high-priorty comm-line in my office.” Pito nodded mutely, and after nodding herself in response, the general turned to walk away. As she left, without stopping or looking, she gently stroked the feathers on Solam’s arm. And so, as briskly as she had arrived, she was gone.

Pito released a breath she didn’t realise she was holding. The reports… How could she have forgotten? Her injuries must have rattled her more than she realised. Her uncle must have been beside himself. The linguist bore no delusions about the depth of her emotional connection to that minister, but she was aware of her political value. Even just as an asset to their dynasty, she was worth protecting. Or, at the very least, it was worthwhile to be aware of her welfare.

A few short driks later, nurse approached her bed.

“Hello, Professor.” greeted the nurse. “The doctors have recently reviewed your case files, and they’ve determined that you're well enough to leave the infirmary. I’m here to give you one last examination before we release you back into the wider compound population.”

Wow. The general works fast. “Oh, thank you Nurse. I’m very happy to hear that.” chirped Pito, needlessly feigning ignorance.

The nurse set about administering the regular battery of tests; heart-rate, blood pressure, temperature, pupil dilation, oral examination, and, perhaps most importantly, breath pressure. As expected, all results returned nominal.

“Okay Professor, it seems like everything is in order. You are the very picture of health. You can gather your things and meet me at the front desk for sign-out when you're ready.”

“Thank you, Nurse.”

In the fraction of a season that she had spent in the infirmary, her co-workers hadn't had much opportunity to bring her too many items. So it didn't take her long to pack away the few books, blooms and leftover snacks that were scattered about her space.

“Leaving so soon?” an interrupting voice startled her as her back was turned to her ward-mate.

“So it would seem, Colonel.” replied the linguist. “The doctors have decided that I’ve recovered enough to leave now.”

“So what, you were just gonna’ leave without giving me a goodbye nuzzle?” the groggy officer teased.

To her credit, Professor Pito barely flinched. After standing in place for just a fraction of a cleg, she walked over to the head of Solam’s cot. Then she leaned over his face, low enough and long enough to watch his eyes go wide in shock. Then she unceremoniously grazed the base of his fore-feathers with a flick of her talon.

“Ow!” came the seasoned military veteran’s exaggerated reaction to the school-yard prank. “I’ll tell the nurses on you!”

“Please do.” chirped the well-read academic. “They'll probably thank me for it.” Pito hefted her loaded satchel over her shoulder and returned to her old friend’s side. This time, she gently placed a claw on the side of his face. “Get well soon, Solam.”

“Yes ma’am.” he replied.

And so, with no further fanfare, Professor Pito left the infirmary.

The linguist did as she was instructed; she made her way directly to the general’s office. When she finally got to her door, she pressed the greeting chime.

“Hold.” came a truncated command from the interior of the room. There were a few clegs of muffled sounds rustling behind the door before the general spoke again. “Enter.”

Pito complied, opening the door and walking in. She was struck by the moderately disarrayed state of the office. Papers and folders were arrayed in untidy stacks on the desk. Half closed binders and fold-marked books were haphazardly arrayed on nearby shelves. Thankfully there didn't seem to be any documents on the floor; a professional of Hydor’s calibre couldn't fall that far. But the linguist did notice one more concerning sight. A long, cushioned bench was placed in one corner of the room. There was a pile of folded fabrics stacked on it, and a smaller cushion poorly hidden behind the bench. If one were feeling somewhat uncharitable, one could possibly presume that that second cushion could possibly be used a pillow, and the bench as a cot.

The linguist noticed that the officer had followed her gaze. The general made no comment. the professor made no comment. May no one ever accuse Hydor of having an easy time here.

“Are you ready?” asked the general plainly.

“Yes.” replied the linguist.

Hydor nodded then pointed to her comm module. Pito walked over to the comm’s interface board and inputted the required royal comm-ID. The professor put the headset to her earhole as it began to chime.  She looked over at the general with an unspoken plea behind her eyes.

The general grunted out a sigh, getting the hint. “Okay, I’ll wait outside while you talk to him. Just don’t take too long.”

The professor mouthed out a ‘thank you’ as the general left the room.

There was a staticky click on the other end of the line. “Yes General, I trust you have something more substantial for me now?” came the imperious non-greeting.

“Uncle, it’s me.” said Pito.

There was a short pause. “Oh, my dearest Pito! I’m so glad to hear that you’re hale and hearty!”

“Thank you, Uncle, Yes, I’m fine.”

“So what’s this hear about rockets exploding up in the dark-ward lands?”

Professor Pito started to feel a familiar ache behind her crest. “No rockets exploded, Uncle. There was a gas leak in some old pipes.” She couldn’t tell if her uncle was being deliberately obtuse or if he had received bad information. Either way, she could tell that this conversation was about to get very tiresome very quickly.

“Are you sure that’s what it was, my dear Niece? I hear you were almost immediately incapacitated by debris from the explosion. Not to mention how excessive smoke inhalation can addle the brain.”

Oh, so he had that bit of information down fairly accurately. Curious. “I didn’t inhale too much smoke, Uncle. Adwin got myself and several others out fairly quickly.”

There was a squawked out scoff on the other end of the line. “That savage little frost-fae?! Are you sure it didn’t injure you more when it dragged you out?”

And suddenly his information was inaccurate again. Curiouser and curiouser. “He didn’t drag me out Uncle.” the linguist sighed. “And he’s not a savage. He’s just as intelligent and cultured as the rest of us. Perhaps more.”

“Nonsense.” insisted the contemptuous voice. “That diminutive brute is probably less cultured than those math-minded technicians and brawn-brained grunts you’ve been mired with. You know, I’ve started to get worried about how you fare around all those uncouth curs.”

The throbbing pain in Pito’s head lashed out a bit more fiercely. “Uncle, I’ve been sending you several reports. You well know that he has a device with several volumes worth of films, music and literary works. He’s a theatre student, for warm-rains sake!”

“A theatre technician, I think you mean.” corrected the man.

Professor Pito felt a surging urge to spit out one of the more ‘colourful’ phrases that she learned from Adwin. Something about mothers. It seemed that some linguistic and cultural concepts are truly universal. She swallowed the urge down like bile. “Right. Well, I am so very happy to be able to talk to you again, dearest Uncle. As I mentioned earlier, I am currently at the very pinnacle of health. I will resume sending you regular reports from now on.”

“What?” the royal hummed dismissively. “Oh, yes, yes, of course. You may continue your short season of work for as long as you can. Warm-winds, oh beloved Niece.”

There was something in way he said that unsettled the linguist. “Wh-- What do you mean by--” line simply played it’s disconnection beep.

Pito stood there for a few clegs, silent and unmoving. Eventually she opened the door of the office.

The general noticed the professor’s exit and reacted promptly. “Oh good, you’re done. Is everything settled away now?”

“I-- I don’t know…” the linguist confessed. “I think he’s going to try something.”