His complexion no longer bore the pallor of that day.

A cup of water and a bowl of freshly cooked porridge lay on the tray.

The wanderers’ camp had a chef dedicated to cooking because Hannah could be quite picky about her food.

Arnold glanced at Gregory, pondered for a moment, then reached out to take the tray from his hands, offering a word of thanks.

The wanderers’ camp consisted only of tents.

The one Arnold stayed in was the one Hannah had used before.

It was tidied up very clean; there were no unnecessary items, just like the others’.

The only out-of-place item might be the pink plush rabbit placed at the head of the bed.

Nicholas had brought that back for Hannah, saying that a girl might like such a thing.

Hannah had gone to the battlefield at nineteen, not as a prized asset but simply because no one was willing to take on that seemingly doomed mission.

Nineteen—she was of age. But in the interstellar context, compared to those hundreds of years old, she was still just a child.

Only, no one in the Empire truly considered her a child.

But Nicholas would, Sixth Hoffman would, many of the wanderers would.

Arnold’s composure somewhat surprised Gregory.

He remembered the words Hannah had left for Sixth Hoffman and couldn’t help but ask, "Will you go find Hannah?"

Arnold’s back was turned to him, his hands placing the tray on the table.

There was a faint sound, not enough to draw attention.

But Arnold knew the feelings that surged the moment he woke—

Dark, oppressive, ice-cold.

Like being plunged into the depths of the sea, all around quiet, the surface churning, yet the depths seemingly calm.

But only seemingly so.

He said, "I will."

He would go find her, wait for her.

With such a response, Gregory didn’t press any further.

"I hope you can bring her back safely."

He knew that Arnold was very capable, at least he had the ability to stand with Hannah.

As opposed to someone like himself... 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

He chuckled at himself mockingly and turned to leave.

...

Outside, Sixth Hoffman was still chatting with Gregory, the atmosphere as lively as ever.

Nicholas sat at a slight distance, took out his pipe that he hadn’t touched in years.

The pipe had been void of tobacco for ages, he just clutched it between his teeth, eyes half-closed.

Desolation approached, still clutching his long sword, "Aren’t you going to look for Hannah?"

To him, the wanderers had spent the last few days training as usual, drinking and chatting, with no hint of urgency.

If Hannah truly was their leader, shouldn’t they be very anxious by now?

"Look for her?" Nicholas removed his pipe, tapping it habitually against his shoe, "You haven’t known our leader for long, have you?"

Nicholas, a thin and dark middle-aged man with neater clothes than Hoffman, had the shrewd look of a merchant when observing others.

Desolation stood to the side, attired in a black robe, hatless, "Yes."

"Are you here for revenge?"

After people arrived, Hoffman made everything clear.

Of the three, the most handsome was their leader’s boyfriend, a relationship just one month old.

The rowdiest was from District Nine, mainly trading information, with a side gig in forging documents.

The remaining one, clutching a long sword, not much of a talker, identity unclear.

Nowadays, those who come to their wanderers’ camp with no clear purpose, nine out of ten, were seeking vengeance.

Desolation didn’t respond, his deep blue eyes full of wariness as he regarded Nicholas.

Nicholas just smiled and put the pipe back into his mouth.