High General Rathen sat calmly in a large office. Bearded cheek resting on one hand, he stared at the countless screens sprawled across the opposite wall. Cadets from the four houses wandered into their respective fortresses.
The silence lingered for several seconds, finger idly tapping the armrest, until the door opened and a man stepped in.
He was tall, clad in a dark military uniform. On his left chest was an iron plate bearing a single dark vertical spear. A lieutenant. He struck a fist against his chest in salute.
"High General."
"Losk. What happened?"
"The southern gate mechanism was somehow tampered with. We suspect foul play. We’re trying to get to the bottom of it."
"Find anything?"
"Nothing."
The next tap sent cracks racing across the armrest. The air turned noticeably colder.
"Those privileged fools taint everything Ferran with their stupid politics and ideals. They cheat and call it honor. They hide behind old names and dead glory. Every damn year people get softer. Weaker. Give it another decade and we’ll all be pussies wearing pink. They can pull that shit anywhere else. Not here. This is my domain. My world. I won’t have it. Find whoever’s responsible and drag them to me."
The lieutenant bowed.
"...Yes, High General."
"What about the other matter?"
"...We checked. The southern scrambler stayed active for the entire run. Not a single interruption."
The High General frowned. A moment later, he waved a hand. The southern screen shifted, zooming in on a tall purple-eyed boy standing amongst the other cadets.
The High General studied him in silence.
Eventually, it was the lieutenant who spoke.
"...I honestly find it hard to believe. Even with the delay, he still finished that fast. Without it, he—"
"He still wouldn’t have come first." the High General said.
Another wave of his hand, and the eastern screen zoomed in on a boy with braided hair and golden vertical lines beneath his gold eyes.
The lieutenant’s gaze lingered on the boy. He had claimed first place, after all.
"You really think he would’ve lost anyway?"
The High General’s silence was answer enough.
The lieutenant stared at the boy for another moment before speaking in a hesitant voice.
"Is it true what they say? That he’s one of Ferravyr’s spawn?"
The High General raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised the lieutenant knew that. But he nodded anyway. They had kept it under wraps for a while. It was bound to come out eventually.
"He is."
The lieutenant drew in a sharp breath.
"...The royal house actually handed their own over to one of... one of..."
"A beast?"
Rathen turned to look at him. The lieutenant immediately fell silent beneath his gaze.
"I-I didn’t mean—"
"Relax. I’m not going to punish you." Rathen waved him off. "The Metal Calamity’s a legend. Protector of the Ferran Empire. Yeah, he was a beast. So what? Does that make him any less Ferran? Does it make his children any less Ferran? We don’t judge by blood. We judge by steel. By whether you’ve been tempered. If they can fight for this Empire, bleed for it, die for it, then they’re Ferran. Simple as that."
"...Yes, High General."
The lieutenant bowed, but Rathen could still see the skepticism lingering in his eyes.
He inwardly sighed.
Why even bother?
The world would have to end before these narrow-minded fools truly accepted his kind into their fold. He dismissed the lieutenant with a flick of his hand.
Alone once more, he stared at the screens in silence, a faint smile on his lips.
At the very least, this year’s cadets were promising.
That alone was worth celebrating.
....
The Southern House fortress lay on the far western side of the military academy. Nestled at the foot of a mountain, a vast windswept plain stretched before it, broken only by sparse forests and rocky outcrops.
The fortress itself was immense, spanning kilometers of land. Zephyrion, along with the other cadets, was led through its grand gates and instructed to line up in an open area.
Ingrid, along with several other soldiers, stood atop a platform, eyes hard and demeanor stern.
Zephyrion still avoided looking at her.
The chattering tapered off, and silence fell.
"As you all know, I am Major Ingrid Calderalth, Southern House Commander. From this moment onward, you will address me as House Commander. Nothing else.
"As House Commander, I have one job. To whip you into shape. To strip away your privileged selves and forge you into weapons worthy of serving the Empire.
"As you already know, we’re only one of four regions. I won’t divulge specifics, but every other house will be doing everything they can to surpass us. The competition will be brutal.
"And I refuse to let you embarrass our region or the people watching from the south. We will win. Nothing less.
"So over the coming months, I will put every last one of you through hell to make sure you’re ready. Understood?"
"Yes, House Commander!"
Ingrid gave a single nod. For a moment, Zephyrion felt her eyes settle on him. But he maintained his indifferent mask, staring straight ahead. Too late.
A moment later, she looked away and stepped back.
The other instructors took over, reinforcing everything Ingrid had said before informing them of several things.
First, the cadets were divided into three tiers. Zephyrion, Lumi, Tobias, Kaiden, along with the city lord descendants and several others, were placed in Tier One, while the rest were assigned to Tiers Two and Three.
Only then did Zephyrion realize they had been grouped based on how quickly they completed the earlier run.
Afterward, they were given rune tabs, bracelets fitted with small screens. They tracked the number of Temper Points each cadet accumulated, displayed the academy’s unbreakable rules, such as no killing and no inflicting lethal harm, amongst several others.
After tinkering with his for several moments, he also discovered it could be used to communicate with other cadets, send signal lights into the sky, monitor their vitals, and perform several other functions.
He checked his Temper Points.
Forty.
Besides that, they were also given new sets of clothes. Charcoal-black tops, cargo pants, and heavy combat boots. Affixed to their left chest was a metal plate bearing a single horizontal line.
It signified the rank; cadet.
Afterward, they were ushered into the main structure, a large castle with four floors. Tier One occupied the third floor, Tier Two the second, and Tier Three the ground floor. Unless invited, no lower tier was permitted to enter a higher one. The reverse was not the case.
The instructors soon left them.
The next few hours were spent deciding rooms and chatting endlessly, while a few chose to wander. Zephyrion was amongst the latter. With Lumi at his heels, he roamed.
The fortress was much like every one he had seen as a child.
The main structure stood at its center, housing the barracks where they slept, along with briefing halls, offices, a war room, kitchens, an infirmary, bathhouses, and laundry rooms.
East of the castle stretched a vast training ground fitted with countless pieces of equipment. Scattered throughout the fortress were armories, a forge, supply depots, an empty stable, and cargo warehouses.
Everything needed for a fully functioning fortress was present.
Eventually, the soldiers returned and invited them to the mess hall on the first floor, where they were served an assortment of food and drinks and told to eat their fill.
The atmosphere inside the mess hall was lively.
The cadets laughed, making countless jokes about how they would’ve joined the academy much earlier if they had known they’d be treated this well.
The instructors moved amongst them, smiling like attentive waiters, topping off drinks and encouraging the cadets to eat more.
Amidst it all, Zephyrion observed. It was only the first day, yet the cadets had already divided themselves into groups.
Each city lord descendant sat proudly at a table near the edge of the mess hall, farthest from the entrance. Arguably the best seats, with the least noise and foot traffic. Their respective house members sat with them, along with many other Tier One cadets occupying the surrounding tables.
A short distance away, the next set of tables was occupied by Tier Two cadets, leaving the Tier Three cadets closer to the entrance.
For his own reasons, Zephyrion chose a table at the boundary between the tier three and tier two cadets. The other youths from Calderalth sat with him, occupying the surrounding tables.
They received confused stares from both sides, but he ignored them. Leaving the cadets for a moment, Zephyrion turned his attention to the soldiers.
Even now, they smiled. They laughed. They encouraged the cadets to eat and drink. Still, he didn’t miss the sharp glint in their eyes.
Zephyrion ate only what was necessary for sustenance and told the others to do the same.
Lumi paused just as she was about to sink her fork into a steaming roast chicken. She scrunched up her face, looking utterly dejected.
Still, she listened.
Fiona and Kaiden didn’t ask any questions and merely nodded. Tobias looked like he wanted to ask something but eventually thought better of it. Surprisingly, Kaelion also listened. He gave Zephyrion a brief nod before resuming his glare.
The rest of the Calderalth cadets got the message and also ate in moderation.
After lunch, the cadets were allowed to do as they pleased. Zephyrion spent his time wandering, familiarizing himself with more of the fortress.
That night, the cadets were once again treated to a feast by the soldiers.
This time, alcohol was introduced.
"HAHA! I AM DRAVEN HARTVAIN! I AM A REAL MAN!"
Draven Hartvain, drunk to the brim, repeatedly chanted his own name and turned the mess hall into an arm-wrestling arena.
The other drunken cadets quickly joined in, chanting his name as he crushed everyone stupid enough to challenge him. The others were no different, laughing, drinking, partying. They were eighteen year old youths who had just been told they could do anything, after all.
The night ended with most of the cadets barely able to walk in a straight line. Many simply collapsed where they sat, their snores soon echoing throughout the mess hall.
Zephyrion, completely sober, left and headed for his room on the third floor.
That night, with Lumi’s soft snores echoing beside him, Zephyrion stared at his rune tab. A sheet of paper covered in countless runes rested in his other hand.
He wondered if he should call. Then her dismissal replayed in his mind. He scoffed, tucked the paper away, and turned over to sleep.
The night passed quickly.
By morning, a loud bang ripped through the entire fortress.