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...
"Alright, rookies. I think that's enough practice for today." Wyvet made sure her voice carried well over the flapping of wings. "Everyone back to the ground. Remember to glide, not dive!"
No one made much of a fuss at this, all clearly feeling some level of exhaustion. Flying wasn't particularly taxing, yet the process of communicating with their dragons took a bit of mental effort, especially since the dragons were still considered babies. It was a miracle that they were large enough to ride in the first place.
Nagan was especially glad to finally set foot on stable ground. Flying was the best feeling in the world, but after a couple hours of dealing with Ravi's awkward movements, he couldn't help but feel a bit queasy. Milora seemed to share the same sentiment as she joined him on the ground, both stumbling off their dragons and lying back onto the dirt.
"That was fun," Milora commented, her eyes still fixated on the sky. Nagan only snorted humorlessly in reply.
Yet their relief was short-lived as heavy footsteps marched up to them.
"This is a sorry sight," drawled a voice, and Nagan and Milora immediately scrambled to their feet to stand in attention, as did everyone else. A few paces away from them stood General Byteron with a furious scowl.
"Don't let me catch you lot in such a state again," he barked, glaring down each of the young mages before him. "Behavior like this will get you killed out in the field. What have I told you about letting your guard down? Are your skulls so thick that nothing gets through? Are your heads so stuck in books that you don't hear? Answer me!"
There was a quick murmur of uncertain 'no, sir's. Nagan refused to speak at all. The general didn't seem to notice as he continued on.
"And to think this is what our last defense has come to," he nearly spat. "Listen up, brats. Get your heads out of the dirt and start working harder. By order of the Council of Thirds, every combat-related class you have will be doubled while some of you will be doing that full time." He sneered, settling his gaze on Nagan. "Congratulations. Some of you have been called to war, and the rest of you will join them later on."
Nagan felt dread pool into his stomach, and others let out muffled whimpers. He knew the general's look meant he was one of the first to be summoned. Of course he was. Yet...he never expected it to be so soon. He was thirteen, after all. Ravi nudged him lightly with her snout, sensing her master's unease to which Nagan replied with a grateful pulse through their just-forming mental connection.
"Those chosen were originally told to be ready by the end of the week," Byteron continued, "but seeing that feat is near impossible, your Professor Fai talked them into giving you three weeks. Use your generous weeks given or die quicker on the battlefield."
He turned his gaze to his lieutenants. "Wyvet, Qentor, break time's over. Get their sorry carcasses back in the air to run more drills. I want them able to complete basic maneuvers in their sleep by tomorrow. Got it?"
"Loud and clear, sir," Wyvet saluted. For once, she wasn't smiling.
"Good." General Byteron evaluated the students one last time before scoffing, turning on his heel, and marching back inside the castle.
"Well, you heard him," Wyvet said after a beat of silence. "Can't disobey direct orders. Back onto your dragons, and let's start the drills from the top."
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