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(( 12 Haring, Mid-morning, Guard Captain's office - Mara Kerr ))
Ferren hadn't ever been very good at sorting things into tiny little boxes. Everything in his life ran together like a thin stew. People, places, events all thrown into the same pot and left to simmer. Sometimes one thing came to the forefront, sure, but for the most part it was all there all the time.
When Fergus had first told him Mara was going to be one of the Wardens stationed in Highever for a while, though.... Well, he'd done his best to shove his feelings on that whole thing into a box. Then lock it inside another, bigger box, then one more box aside from that before tossing the whole thing over the cliffs and into the ocean.
He'd been somewhat successful. Maybe. When Mara showed up with Wardens and mercenaries alike for the briefing he'd called, he didn't immediately feel that swift kick to the gut that stopped his whole world from turning. Seeing her hurt. It hurt a lot. But he was still able to breathe, and still able to do his job.
Right now that job meant letting the people who were working adjacent to his guards know what support they could expect. It wasn't a long meeting. Probably why it was called a briefing. But Ferren went over all the details he needed to get out there. All the things he'd told his own men, and the ways the three groups intersected.
"So, just t'say it again. If y' take away anythin' from this meeting, best to make it this: the Highever Guard is here t'help where we can. If y'need to pull a guard off patrol for something immediate and important, they've got orders to listen--so long as it's in the best interest of Highever and the folks living beyond the south wall. Anything planned needs t'be run by me."
He pressed the piece of parchment he'd been looking at flat, Everything he'd wanted to talk about was there in notes nobody would understand but him, along with a personal note that just said "Mara -- don't." Ferren wasn't sure what he'd intended that to mean when he wrote it, but it was sound advice from his past self.
"Right, I'm sure everybody's sick o' me talking," he said with a small grin, "if y'have any questions, I'm here. Otherwise that's all I needed."
Ferren hadn't ever been very good at sorting things into tiny little boxes. Everything in his life ran together like a thin stew. People, places, events all thrown into the same pot and left to simmer. Sometimes one thing came to the forefront, sure, but for the most part it was all there all the time.
When Fergus had first told him Mara was going to be one of the Wardens stationed in Highever for a while, though.... Well, he'd done his best to shove his feelings on that whole thing into a box. Then lock it inside another, bigger box, then one more box aside from that before tossing the whole thing over the cliffs and into the ocean.
He'd been somewhat successful. Maybe. When Mara showed up with Wardens and mercenaries alike for the briefing he'd called, he didn't immediately feel that swift kick to the gut that stopped his whole world from turning. Seeing her hurt. It hurt a lot. But he was still able to breathe, and still able to do his job.
Right now that job meant letting the people who were working adjacent to his guards know what support they could expect. It wasn't a long meeting. Probably why it was called a briefing. But Ferren went over all the details he needed to get out there. All the things he'd told his own men, and the ways the three groups intersected.
"So, just t'say it again. If y' take away anythin' from this meeting, best to make it this: the Highever Guard is here t'help where we can. If y'need to pull a guard off patrol for something immediate and important, they've got orders to listen--so long as it's in the best interest of Highever and the folks living beyond the south wall. Anything planned needs t'be run by me."
He pressed the piece of parchment he'd been looking at flat, Everything he'd wanted to talk about was there in notes nobody would understand but him, along with a personal note that just said "Mara -- don't." Ferren wasn't sure what he'd intended that to mean when he wrote it, but it was sound advice from his past self.
"Right, I'm sure everybody's sick o' me talking," he said with a small grin, "if y'have any questions, I'm here. Otherwise that's all I needed."
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