Every bad opinion Peter had of Rand suddenly lessened as he swallowed another spoonful of this mystery food. The grainy but sweet and fruitful taste, and consistency reminiscent of a pudding. He was certain the fruits and nuts he had foraged earlier had gone into making this. And was that honey?

Compared to what he was eating for the last week, this was masterful. But no food was too great to not be shared with his primals. Even Fira was enjoying some.

Bang. Bang. Bang. A few people stopped talking, but the rest continued to chatter away. Peter looked towards the source. The cook was right behind Rand, who stood before the lit bonfire burning in the center of Shantee. Flanking Rand were his primals. Peter spotted Ruby the Centaur, as well as his Harpy. There were three more primals that Peter hadn’t seen Rand with before. Well, one he couldn’t be sure about. There was a second Harpy now. So one of the pair was most likely a Mimic. 

Another was a primal which Peter didn’t recognize. She wore a fancy outfit - a brown and green coat with large yellowish gloves. Her brown hair was frizzled on the sides and kept above her forehead with a pair of goggles. Hung over her shoulder was a moderately sized satchel.

The final primal was one Peter had heard of. A Telenic. Telenics were a rare primal which were highly scrutinized and regulated due to many of their psychic abilities. They had a signature strand of hair sticking up above the rest, and wore a white and green gown. This one’s hair was green.

Peter could see Rand clear his throat. “SOLDIERS AND SISTERS!” his voice boomed. It took some time, but the fort gradually became silent.

“Today is a day of days. A day of remembrance. A reminder of those whose lives were lost, but sacrifices not forgotten. Today marks the one-hundred fifty-second anniversary of ‘The Night of a Hundred Living Shadows,’ the massacre which took from us the many lives of brave adventurers, both men and women, upon The Ashen Fields. We gather not only to honor their lives, but those of all tamers…” Rand inhaled and exhaled, “and primals who were lost in the years following ‘Primal Dawn.’ Let us raise our cups, and shout to the heavens, and remind the dead that while still here, we look towards the end. An end to the war. An end to suffering! Humanity will not break! Till’ the Sun Sets!”

“Till the Sun Sets!” everyone shouted in unison, raising their glasses before each taking a sip. It wasn’t alcohol, which would normally be served at this occasion, but instead a sugary juice. Rand must have either not had enough to go around or didn’t want rambunctious tamers to ruin the night. Perhaps both.

After passing the glass to his primals, Peter glanced back towards Rand, who caught his gaze and began to approach him. Peter wanted to curse himself.

“At ease, soldier.” He wasn’t sure why Rand bothered with this sort of talk.

“It was a good speech,” Peter offered.

Rand nodded. “Yes, it was. Given in every place where tamers call home in the Kingdom of Fauna. And improved thanks to your support today.”

Peter only nodded, not sure where this was going.

“I have a proposition for you. I imagine you intend on leaving in three or so months… How about permission to establish facilities in the guild building until then?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “That… that would be fine.”

Rand nodded. “Do not misuse that privilege.” After saying his part, he slowly crept away, his primals behind him. The Harpy abruptly turned around and cupped her mouth. 

“Tit-gah,” she wasn’t able to finish what she wanted to say before the Centaur delivered a swift bonk to her skull.

Against the inner walls of Shantee, the shadows of tamers flickered back and forth.