Every Wednesday morning he watches her arrive at the East Gate, like clockwork. He loves that first ray of sunlight that catches her red hair as she steps down from her cart. And every Wednesday she walks past him into town carrying a large basket of milk bottles in her arms. She's a hard working woman, he says to himself every time she passes him, catching the scent of cows and hay wafting from her. But it's pleasant and comforting somehow.
And what else? He has mused this at least a dozen times before. Viscen isn't very good at this sort of thing. You know, the opposite sex thing. This is why if he had a rupee for every time he stands silently when she walks by, he would have enough to build that house out in the Termanian countryside he's always wanted. Hell, it's only because of the bar owner that he knows her name - Cremia. He wonders if she even knows he's captain. Probably not. It isn't exactly in the nature of captains to perform basic guard duty.
He doesn't even know he's wron