Saran came back to the barracks late that night, he couldn't wait to tell everyone that Feldaran wasn't the monster they made him out to be, walking into the large dark room that served as a resting area for the students of company 'C' he decided it was best to not disturb his fellow trainee's, but Kirin never minded a disturbance or two.

    Walking to the double bunk beds that they shared Saran undressed and; climbing up to the top bunk,  he poked Kirin's shoulder.  "Hey sleepy head, wake up."  He whispered.
    Kirin started, then stretched slightly and turned over, when he saw Saran his eyes grew wide and he quickly turned back over.
    "Hey, what's with that?"  He demanded poking Kirin's shoulder again.  "Come on enough with the silent treatment, it's not funny."
    Kirin's limp form remained still.
    "Humph fine, see you in the morning."  He grumbled, grunting he landed on the floor with a muffled thump and hopped into his lower bunk, pulling the sheets over himself he soon fell asleep.

    Morning came, and still Kirin didn't speak, he refused to even meet his gaze, the other students in company 'C' were uneasy around him, he was relieved when Nijuu still treated him the same.

    "Saran, get off your arse and get back to that dummy!"  The familiar bellow roared in Saran's ears.
    He was fed up, What the hell did I do for this?  He thought as he jabbed his blunted spear at the Dragon dummy.  I'm late for class, Feldaran makes me sweat for three hours and then no one wants
anything to do with me!  His internal rage built up to a point were he could no longer hold it in check, he let loose on the dummy with all his pent up emotion, tearing and slashing, stabbing and feinting.
    "Hey Saran!  I said practice with the dummy, not mutilate it you doorknob!"
    The red haze that permeated Saran's mind lifted, he looked at his practice dummy a was surprised to see it lay in several peace scattered about him, Nijuu was in his face yelling at him and the other students were paying attention to him again, though not the kind he wanted.

    The gong  rang, he threw down his spear and began unbuttoning his heavy training gear.
    "Hey get back here,"  Roared Nijuu, "I'm not done with you yet!"
    "Shut-up Nijuu."  And he walked away before the grizzled old instructor could collect himself enough to think of a retort.

    Saran pushed through the line in the mess hall, ignoring the cries of protest that were fired at him, he took a bowl of stew and a wooden spoon and sat at a table with no other people.  He soon realized that it wasn't so easy to spoon stew into your mouth with a scowl on his face so he instead settled
for an icy glare.  Nursing his stew he let his mind go blank, which is why it didn't occur to him that someone had taken the seat across form him until a high nasal voice broke his silent reverie.

    "Hey, why the long face?"  The voice belonged to roguish looking man who seemed to be in his mid twenties, he had nut brown skin and a jagged scar running from his left eye to his upper lip, it gave him a perpetual sneer, his eyes were coal black and a red bandanna held his shaggy black hair in check.
    Saran looked up and leveled the man with the coldest gaze he could muster.  "None of your business."  He returned to his stew hopeing the man would get the point and leave.
    "Ooh, frosty, yah sendin chills down my spine kid, my names Kakarin."  He stuck out his hand.
    Saran sighed and took the offered hand, there was no reason to take out his anger on someone else.  "Saran."
    "Well Saran, you don't talk much but I do so that suits me fine.  But first, tell me what's wrong?"
    Unbeknownst to the preoccupied Saran, Kakarin filched the remainder of his stew and attacked it with vigor.
    "I'm in company 'C', and just yesterday I came to Bishop Feldaran's class late-"
    "Ooohhh man!  That's a big fuckin' mistake kid, even I know enough not to be late to that old farts class."  Without stopping to breathe he began anew his assault on the fast emptying bowl of stew.
    "Yeah well get this, he makes me sit for three hours in class thinking about how he's gonna chew me out and all he does is say-"  He screwed up his face in an imitation of the Bishop, "Don't be late again Saran."
    "Haaa, that's it huh?"  He belched loudly, "Scuse me."  He gestured for Saran to continue.
    "Well, I get back to my companies barracks and everyone, even my best friend, is giving me the silent treatment, I have no idea why!"  He banged his fist down on the table causing the stew bowl to jump and spill the last bit of it's delicious contents on the floor.
    Kakarin stared at the remainder of his somewhat impoverished meal mournfully, with a shrug he tossed the spoon over his shoulder hitting another student in the back of the head.  "They don't know if they can trust you yet, they're testing to see if your still, you know, one of 'em.  Don't worry give it
some time trust me."
    The gong rang indicating the changing of classes.
    Standing, Kakarin stretched and scratched his sides, turning round he spat on the ground and turned before he noticed the student who happened to slip in his spittle and crash to the floor.  "Welp, gotta go kid, nice meeting yah."  With a mock salute he turned on his heal and left through the back door leaving Saran to his thoughts.

    Disconsolately Saran walked back to company 'C's barracks, reaching his bed he didn't bother shedding his uniform, managing to pull his boots off he lay down staring into the darkness around him
    "Pssst!  Saran."  Came a whispered voice from above.
    Rolling over he looked up over the side of his bed, on the bunk above  Kirin was leaning over, his wild hair flaming in his face.  "What is it Kirin?"  Asked Saran.
    "I'm from Spirteshome."  He answered simply.
    Saran frowned.  "Spriteshome?  Where's that?"  He didn't remember ever hearing of a place in Alania called Spriteshome.
    "I-it's not in Alania. . ."  He hesitated averting his gaze from Saran's.
    Saran's face became suspicious, "Where is it then?"
    Kirin sighed heavily, "I-it's in Kuso."  He looked at Saran directly in the dim light.  "I'm half Woodsprite, that's why I'm so short."
    "I-I had no idea, is that why you didn't want to talk to me?"  He asked.
    Kirin's flushed with embarrassment.  "Yes, I thought you might tell someone, so I got the other guys to not talk to you too, I'm sorry"
    Saran lay back and thought for a moment.  "So. . .your one of the lesser races?"  His tone held no malice, merely curiosity.
    For the first time since they had met Saran saw his friend Kirin's face harden.
    "Saran don't be stupid, that's too much ignorance coming from a bright boy like you.  What they teach you in the churches in Alania is a narrowed down egotistical view of life, my parents were free of it, with all the bad blood between mortals and fay."
    Now it was Saran's turn to feel ashamed.  "I'm sorry, how old are you Kirin. . .and why did you come to Alania to be a Dragoon?"
    "I'm thirty, the Woodsprite blood in me makes me look younger."  He paused before answering the next question.  "I came here because I was curious, like all Woodsprites I'm drawn to things that others like to leave alone, with my Human blood I can pass for a young man in his teens, so I began traveling the world learning new things,"  He smiled happily,  "that's always been something important to me, I've been to Kikai, Sheran Proper, and even the isle of Shiku.  I wanted to see the Norinthern end of the Shinjuku Badlands, Alania was on my way."
    "Cou-could you tell me about all the places you've been too?"  He asked hopefully.
    Kirin smiled.  "Sure, but I need some sleep tonight, goodnight Saran."
    Saran closed his eyes already drifting off.  "Goodnight Kirin."