Who knew one terrible mistake could trigger a war so quickly. It hadn't even been a few months, and news of the Kinsmen of the Dark gaining grounds constantly reached their ears. Every able body was requested by the Council of Thirds to join the fro...
"It's not tutoring, it's just a simple study session," Nagan reasoned.
"If Nagan's teaching it, I'll definitely show up!" one of the girls said.
"Wait a second--"
"Me too! My grades have been getting better since going to the library in the morning."
More and more agreed, thinking it was a wonderful idea. All Nagan could do was glare at Az for volunteering him for this.
Az had the audacity to innocently blink back at him.
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"Alright, everybody in!"
This was the last thing Nagan expected after a filling dinner. To be herded into The Great Hall by a handful of men and women in official Dragonmage robes, all with their own regalia pinned to their uniform. So this is what our soldiers look like?
"Everyone in, I say!" the most decorated one barked again. He stood tall and broad, his presence commanding obedience, alongside the remaining teachers on the usual platform. Two others stood just below; a stoic man and a woman with a cheshire grin.
The domineering man sneered down at the hesitant students as they bunched near the door. "None of you know how to form proper lines? Why do you stand near the door like cowards?"
"That isn't something we practice here, General Byteron," Professor Fai cut in, stepping forward tensely, though it was out of annoyance rather than fear. "We were unaware that your arrival would be so soon."
"Then you are much more incompetent than the Council thought," the general spat. "We brought students back to Carvolier to train, yet when we arrived it's discovered you still hold unnecessary classes such as history and potions unrelated to medical pursuits."
"Well, Carvolier is a school after all," Professor Fai replied flippantly, completely unfazed by General Byteron's intense gaze before waving his hand. "But please, continue, General. Perhaps you can teach this 'incompetent' fool a thing or two about running a school."
"Watch your tongue, halfspawn," the general snarled.
"Mm. Haven't heard that one in a while. I thought we were past all that after the Mage War of the Millennium. Ah, I suppose war does bring out the worst in people."
General Byteron chose to ignore the professor. Instead, he turned to address the still startled students. "You were sorted into new categories, correct? Then line yourselves up in four lines and in alphabetical order from left to right. Last names. Need I spell it out for you further? No? Then get moving!"
The student body seemed to collectively jump and scramble around to form said lines. When it wasn't done fast enough, General Byteron glanced at the two standing below. "Qentor, Wyvet, get these saps into proper formation."
The man simply nodded while the woman did a lazy salute. "Yes, sir."
After some confusion and surprisingly rough handling, four straight lines spanned the width of the hall. Combat and stealth in the front while messengers and medics stood behind. Nagan found himself near front and center, a wad of unease growing larger the longer he stood, yet he stood no less defiant. Whoever this general was, he was not a man to be respected in his books.
"Remember where you stand," General Byteron began, "because from now on, this is where you will stand at seven hundred sharp. Any later, and you will remain standing all throughout breakfast. The same applies to eighteen hundred sharp. Your new schedules will be waiting in your rooms.
"After your little battle against the Kinsmen's dragons, it is high time you begin to do what you were originally brought back to do. You are here to train as soldiers, not play in the schoolyard and recite bits of information that are useless in battle."
The general seemed to eye each and every one of them as he continued. "The moment you accepted your dragon, this is what you were destined to become. Congratulations, soldiers, welcome to the 18th Company."
A wide range of emotions swept through the students. Some felt excitement while others felt fear; pride while others felt dread.
Though none felt such a heavy sense of foreboding as Nagan did, shuffling his feet with unease.
This was the beginning of a very long and winding path. What lied at the end, no one knew.
