Chapter 4
Chapter four
Annalise
When I step outside, the clouds above Scion glow with streaks of gold and violet, and the last scraps of the setting sun catch on the spires of the west towers. It smells like rain and smoke, and I can’t help but deeply inhale the intoxicating scent.
Students move through the courtyard in small groups—a handful of Bravo company recruits still in uniform from their track class, others in civilian clothes, headed for the dining hall.
I unfold my map and make a mental note of every building and sign I see, trying to commit each one to memory as I make my way into the castle.
Sitting right in the center on the first floor, the dining hall defies my expectations with its vaulted ceilings, high stone arches, and beautiful stained-glass windows.
Scattered throughout the room, there are probably close to a hundred wooden tables, several already filling up with recruits talking over each other.
I scan the crowd for Matt, but my vision is blocked by a tall, broad-shouldered man stepping directly into my path. Unsurprisingly, he’s wearing his usual ice-cold expression as he glowers down at me.
Lucas, my ex-boyfriend from my sophomore year of high school, if you can really call him an ex after only dating for two weeks.
That was all it took before I overheard him telling his football buddies he only asked me out because he wanted to take my virginity, and he was scared my dad would kill him if we weren’t officially dating.
I ended our relationship right then, in front of the entire team, and being the six-foot-two blonde god, at our school in the middle of nowhere, my lack of interest in him or his dick was more offense than he could handle.
First, he swore up and down I’d misheard him and was overacting, begging me to take him back.
When that didn’t work, the switch flipped.
He spent the rest of his junior year, all of senior year, and every possible moment since, making up rumors about me, each more ridiculous than the last, and all eaten up by our simple-minded community.
Since graduation, we’ve only interacted when we were forced to at high-class events. His dad, the King-favored prosecutor, and mine, the revered Sheriff, were often invited to the same society functions.
I thanked my lucky stars six months ago when Lucas turned twenty-one and left for Scion, an unfortunate fact I’d forgotten until now.
Looking up at him, I can’t help but be annoyed by the way he’s looking at me, the same malice-filled eyes he’s reserved for me since our relationship ended.
“Tell me, what kind of pathetic person steals from the nicest man ever and then tries to kill him in his own house?”
I’m not sure if the question is directed toward me or his friends standing behind him, talking amongst themselves, but I grace him with my voice nonetheless.
“Aww, Lucas. How sweet you came to welcome me.”
“Ha! The only thing I’d welcome you to is my—”
Before he can finish what I can only assume was a terrible attempt at an insult, a familiar voice interrupts.
“Careful, Lucas. We both know you get…excited…quickly around Lee. Don’t want it to get the better of you in such a public place.” Matt steps in beside me, easy as ever, and drapes an arm over my shoulders.
He knows I can take care of myself, but he’s been itching for a reason, any reason, to deck Lucas since sophomore year. One glance at his loose stance and lopsided grin tells me he’s praying Lucas has finally grown a pair and will swing first.
“Well, look who it is,” Lucas’s lip curls up in irritation.
“Did you need something? Or can you fuck off so we can go eat our dinner?” Matt asks, his bored tone seeping through.
“Oh! I forgot, you were sentenced to service with her. Not quite the romantic getaway you two imagined when you planned to run off together, is it?” Lucas’s gaze flicks to me as he mutters, “At least you finally let him have a taste after stringing him along for so long.”
Matt slowly pushes his fingers into his mouth and groans, sucking them without ever breaking eye contact. “Mmm, so sweet. Too bad you never got to try her.”
I swear I see steam rolling from Lucas’s ears, but he says nothing before storming away, his friends following loosely behind.
As soon as Lucas is out of sight, I brush Matt’s arm off me, and punch him hard in the shoulder.
“What the hell?” he laughs.
“That’s for making such a disgusting scene.” I stand up on my toes and kiss the same spot. “And that’s for the rescue.”
Matt’s grin widens. “You have to admit, the look on his face was totally worth it. Now, get moving before you cause any more trouble. I snagged us a table by the side door. Prime real estate for scouting the hookup pool.”
I roll my eyes and jab my elbow into his side.
He laughs, unfazed. “Anyway, James, a guy in Bravo Company who lives across the hall from me, is holding the table. He’s really cool, and he offered to give us an idea of what to expect here while we eat.”
Over the next hour, James gives us a basic rundown of day-to-day life here and spills all the tips and tricks he can think of.
With the undeniable presence of Dragons on campus, it’s easy to forget Scion isn’t all about the skies.
The truth is, while several bases train most of Thandroan’s military, this place molds the special fighting forces.
Every unit that comes out of Scion carries the weight of the academy’s reputation, and usually a few scars to show for it.
“The first week is only core classes, as I’m sure you noticed on your schedule…Military Strategy, Combat Class, Combat Medicine, and Environmental Tactics. You’ll have two classes per morning, two hours each, broken up into “A” days and “B” days for the next eight months.
“Your core classes are only made up of Charlie Company recruits, but obviously, your entire class can’t all fit in the classrooms at once.
So…Check. Your. Schedules. Which reminds me, MEMORIZE your map!
Classes and punctuality aren’t optional, even on the first day.
These classes are going to lay the groundwork for whichever specialized track you pick, so whatever you do, do not fall behind.
“You probably already have an idea of which specialized track you want to do after graduation, but for the next two weeks, you’ll take introductory courses in all five tracks—Spell Casting, Dragon Riding, Arcane Healing, Vanguard, and if you pass the test, then Ghost Walking—one track class a day, always in the afternoon.
Officially, this is so we can ‘develop an appreciation for the other tracks.’ But unofficially, it’s so no one picks a job because it sounds cool and then realizes they’re deathly afraid of heights while on the back of a soaring dragon.
“You’ll notice your track classes will be integrated with a handful of recruits from Bravo Company. These are recruits who are top of their class and are already in, or slated for, that specialization. They serve as teaching assistants with varying levels of authority, depending on the class.
“In two weeks, you’ll submit your top two track preferences. As long as you don’t completely suck in those fields, they’ll stay on your permanent schedule.
“Eight months from now, every recruit in Charlie Company will submit their final job wish list to the powers that be. The instructors, both from your core classes and the specialized tracks, the Dean, and whichever underpaid officers drew the short straw that day, will review your test scores, evaluations, and overall performance to decide on your final position.”
James leans in closer to us conspiratorially.
“Insider tip: they expect everyone to be…adaptable. Maybe even a little reckless if you want to be a Rider or Vanguard—I’d assume Ghost Walking too, but I don’t personally know anyone trying to become one of the King’s spies, so I can’t tell you for sure.
You need to bring your best to every class, and whatever you do, make sure you are always progressing as good, if not better than, the rest of the class.
One weak spot, and they’ll flag you, so I recommend making the most of your downtime by studying. ”
“What happens if you get flagged?” Matt asks, picking some cold fries off my plate while I try to process everything James has said.
“Mandatory remediation. A lot of running. Less sleep. A terrifying one-on-one with the Dean, who then knows your name in the worst way before sitting on the deciding panels for your track.”
“So, no pressure,” I say sarcastically, pushing the rest of my food toward Matt to finish off.
“Exactly. The training structure is brutal for sure, but that’s by design. They don’t want everyone to succeed; they want the best.”
James gives me a pitying smile, then lays the rest on us.
“Your final track assignments will be announced during the Track Gala, the one night of the school year—other than graduation—when friends and family are allowed to visit. It’s part ceremony, part celebration, and a full panic attack wrapped in formal wear until your name is called. ”
I cringe internally, but there's no way my dad will come.
“The last four months here, you’ll solely be training in your assigned specializations—total immersion before getting shipped off to your new duty stations.”
“At least we have Sundays and one weekend a month to ourselves,” Matt offers, always my optimist.
“Technically, yes. But realistically, you’ll spend most of the time in recovery, doing laundry, or trying to get ahead,” James admits with a wince.
I half-laugh, half-huff, “Perfect.”
Matt raises his drink in cheers. “Well, the food is free, and it doesn't taste too bad, so I’m counting it as a win.”
“And we’re getting paid,” James cheers as his glass clinks against Matt’s.
Turning the key to my room, a loud crash echoes from my left, followed by shouts of pain and what I can only assume are supposed to be curse words, based on their creative intensity.