The Verum Trilogy - Survivor

Chapter 3

The recruits were given an hour and a half to shower, change, and eat, then reassembled in a lecture hall beneath the main compound that more closely resembled a bunker. Natural lighting had been traded for torches mounted every few feet on the walls, making the air in the room uncomfortably warm. Soft shadows flickered over stone sculptures of famous Riders and their dragons from the Citadel's history. Chairs and benches were absent, to several recruits' dismay. The conventional furnishings of a classroom had been stripped, exchanged for a large stone table, an intricate terrain model carved into its surface. Three-dimensional terrain features artfully replicated the geography of the state and hand carven totems were placed strategically across the top of the table, painted black or white to reflect their status as enemy or friendly. Bree's eyes lingered briefly on the northeast quadrant of the terrain model, where a small city had been painted black, noticeably absent any totems. 'Verum' was carved in neat calligraphy at its base.

Their instructor did not introduce himself, nor did he provide any context to the nature of the class before diving into their lesson.

"Scenario: You are part of a team that consists of four riders, two firelings, a skyling, and an earthling. Your mission is to seize a port on the eastern coast of the Frasier Isle that the enemy has been using to smuggle anti-dragon weaponry to Kismet, an established ally of Verum."

Bree felt several gazes in the room shift in her direction and very carefully kept her eyes on the terrain model. The instructor moved a white totem from the Citadel and placed it near the eastern border.

"You. Glasses. You've been promoted to team leader. What do you need to know before departing on this mission?"

The singled-out recruit froze.

"M-me?" he asked. The instructor stared at him expectantly. "U-um, what are the enemy's capabilities?" he asked hesitantly.

The instructor nodded.

"Good. Sources have confirmed there are two lookout towers at the mouth of the river, each armed with two ballista crossbows. For those of you that don't know, those are the dragon killing kind. These outposts have likely been overtaken by Kismet supporters." He paused. "Why are none of you writing this down?"

They were dismissed for lunch at the two-hour mark, several recruits opting out of the meal and falling asleep at the tables in the dining hall, their heads buried in their arms. Bree sat alone at a table in the emptiest corner she could find and picked at her food listlessly.

"Did you hear? Morgen's gone." Bree glanced up as Alia Bennett set her tray down across from her teammate and took a seat. "I went back to the room and all his stuff was gone, uniform on the bed. Don't get me wrong, I know the program isn't for everyone, but it's our first day."

Bree stared at her.

"Are you sure you want to sit here?" she asked, eyes darting around at the recruits that had turned to stare. They looked away quickly when Bree met their eyes. Alia frowned.

"There are three girls in this entire company, Bree. I don't care if you're from the moon. It's a sea of testosterone out there and we need to stick together." She picked up her cup. "This is my third cup of coffee today. I don't know how I'm going to stay awake another six hours. Did you see that kid fall asleep standing up in lecture earlier? Now that's a skill." Bree nodded, trying to suppress the flutter of hope and admiration that lodged itself in her chest.

"Did you always want to be a Rider?" she asked, and Alia shrugged.

"More or less. My brother is in the infantry, and he's made it his fulltime job to show me up since we were kids. This is the first time I've made it farther than him in something, so I'm literally just hanging on to see the look on his face when I graduate. My dad was furious, but he'll get over it. Maybe. What about you?"

Something unidentifiable flickered across Bree's face, disappearing a moment later.

"I wanted to write music," she admitted, and Alia snorted.

"I'm so sorry," her hand flew up to cover her mouth. "I'm not laughing at you, I swear. It's just, how the hell did you end up here? You couldn't find an ambition farther from the Rider Corps if you tried."

Bree returned her smile, turning her attention to the food in front of her.

"I ask myself that all the time," she answered.

Weapons training was held at the combatives field, and after a quick safety brief and functional overview of the bow and sword, the course quickly evolved into a continuation of their grueling morning drills, just with the extra weight of two weapons. The recruits were pushed through a circuit of running, climbing, and scaling steps between terraces, with fifteen second intervals to attack the appropriate targets and continue on. If a target was missed three times by any combination of recruits, the entire group was forced to restart.

By dinner, their numbers had significantly dwindled, and neither Bree nor Alia had the energy for polite conversation as they dragged themselves back to their rooms, Luca trailing behind them. Their team leader met them in the common room at the end of the day, his expression unreadable.

"Youthree smell disgusting," he told them bluntly. "But three out of four on thefirst day isn't bad. Clean up and get some sleep. You all have an early morningtomorrow."

Thoughts: Why does the Blackwell Compound hate chairs so much?