Aedran’s face twitched as he looked over the people he would have to work with. If he was being honest, he could barely find a single redeeming quality in any of them. Lyara entered the room with no expectations and wasn’t disappointed when she saw the empty classroom; she let out a resigned sigh and went to sit at the front. Aedran glanced at her from the corner of his eye. He didn’t know whether to scold her or tell her to leave for her own good.

  He immediately turned toward Kaeldric, who was helping Lysette back to her feet. She managed only a small groan when she realized what was happening.

  “What exactly happened here?” Aedran asked again, pressing his fingers to his brow, on the verge of snapping.

  “Well, technically there are more than I expected,” Kaeldric mocked for the first time. Then he returned to his usual serious, self-important demeanor. “I don’t know what you were expecting. Not only is this division brand new, it’s also meant to fight mages—the most dangerous beings that exist after celestials. And, of course, you’re the captain.”

  “And what exactly is wrong with me being captain?” Aedran snapped, gesturing exaggeratedly.

  “Well… you insult everyone you meet, you’re impulsive, impertinent, have no respect whatsoever for public decency, and you never submit reports. Your only real advantage is that you’re strong, and frankly—”

  “I get it,” Aedran cut him off.

  “In fact, four of them—Lysette included—didn’t sign up for this division voluntarily,” Kaeldric explained in a low voice, meant only for Aedran. “They were forced into it. They couldn’t join any other unit.”

  Aedran nodded irritably and tossed the armor onto the table without a second thought. Lysette stifled a scream—partly at the abuse of technology, and partly because he had just casually thrown a potentially explosive fragment of Camellium onto the table.

  “I’m not training them. They’ll be dead in two days.”

  “Some of them have potential…”

  “Oh sure. Like that Nazi over there.” Aedran pointed at the drynari. The man widened his eyes in outrage and adjusted his blond hair.

  “Excuse me, I am nothing of the sort. Please don’t call me that—”

  “And he talks like a little girl on top of it,” Aedran added with a sarcastic grin. The Drynari clenched his teeth.

  Kaeldric stopped him.

  “Just get to know them a little. If you don’t like them, you can kick them out—but be aware that no one will come out of that clean, and…” Kaeldric glanced at the druid and whispered, “We need to keep an eye on the Drynari.”

  Aedran stepped further into the room and inspected them one by one. He noticed a stack of papers on the desk; Lyara had taken the liberty of grabbing one and reading it. He didn’t actually care, but it was starting to annoy her attitude.

  Next to the documents were two books. One was brown, with gold inscriptions Aedran knew all too well: the most comprehensive magical guide available for non-mages. He had read it cover to cover during countless nights at the academy, and after the fall of the City of New Dawn, he had reread it more times than he could count. Beside it lay a book without a cover—more a bundle of loose pages stitched together with thread. On the first page, it read: “How to Be a Master.”

  Aedran frowned and shoved the pages aside, sending them tumbling onto Lyara’s lap. She complained as she smoothed her skirt.

  “Alright,” he began. “Who are you people?”

  The four standing before him looked confused. Lysette sat down in a corner while Aedran waited for an answer, making no effort to say anything else. The Kenary stood up, straightened her posture, gave a small bow, and looked at Aedran—who responded with an uncomfortable grimace at the excessive formality.

  “My name is Aoi Kurogane. It is an honor to serve this division, Aedran-sensei,” she said in an impeccably proper tone.

  The way she spoke irritated him immediately.

  She wore the standard female guard uniform, just like Lyara: a dress with a skirt above the knee and a black jacket trimmed with gold. It was immaculate, as if it had been washed with fire and pressed under a steamroller. Her sharp features and slanted eyes, glowing an intense blue, made it clear she wasn’t human—though Kenary were, in truth, quite similar.

  “Sensei means ‘master’ in your culture, doesn’t it?” Aedran asked, raising an eyebrow. Aoi looked up and nodded. “Don’t call me that.”

  Lyara tilted her head with a faint smile. Aoi didn’t seem to fully understand why he was being so hostile.

  “I thought the Kenary wanted nothing to do with the central continent. What are you doing here?” Aedran asked curiously.

  “Uh… well, my parents and I came to human territory because we wanted to find a better place to live, Aedran…” She hesitated for a moment. “Sama.”

  Aedran still didn’t like it, but it was better than “sensei.”

  “I thought women of your race were more like twigs,” he remarked, letting his gaze sweep over her body. She was sturdy, easily over five-seven, with obvious curves that even the uniform failed to conceal.

  Aoi made an uncomfortable face and stiffened in her seat. Aedran let out a short chuckle.

  Lyara sighed.

  “You know you don’t have to be an idiot to everyone, right?”

  “And where would the fun be in that?”

  Kaeldric said nothing. He even seemed relieved that Aedran was merely provoking them instead of openly insulting them. At that moment, Aedran had only one more question on his mind.

  “So why are you here? In this division I mean”

  “I enlisted in the anti-terrorism division because…” She stopped short, staring at the floor nervously. “It’s personal, but I want to stop mages from causing any more harm.”

  Aedran seemed satisfied with the answer. He had no interest in anyone’s life story, but knowing the motivations of those present was always useful.

  His gaze shifted to the next person on his scale of interest: the druid. Sensing the attention, the man stood as well. The fox leapt down gracefully, landing on the floor and sitting with its tongue out in a playful manner. Aedran studied him carefully. green markings on the roots—typical of Drynari soldiers—were carved into his face, and he wore green garments. He briefly wondered why he wasn’t wearing a guard uniform, though Aedran himself was dressed in a brown jacket and an unbuttoned shirt, so he decided not to dwell on it.

  Green fur covered the man’s arms, barely concealing long claws that looked capable of scaling any surface. Considering how absurdly tall those damned Drynari forest trees are, that makes sense, Aedran thought. His gaze lingered on the pointed ears—easily twice as long as a human’s—and the horns etched with greenish markings that glowed faintly. His emerald-green eyes stood out even against his blond hair.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “A pureblood druid…” Aedran said aloud.

  “Drynari,” the man corrected. “I don’t like the name humans use for my race.”

  “Imagine how little I care, druid,” Aedran replied flatly. “There’s not a single sign that you’re mixed-blood. That’s rare—rarer even than the Kenary. It’s like seeing a unicorn that shits rainbows.”

  “A lovely image of my people, thank you,” he replied dryly. “Thaelen Briarhorn. I assume you already know that if you’ve read my file. I’m a pureblood druid who chose to leave the forest, and humans accepted me into Veltraxis under the condition that I be monitored. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

  “Almost. Why did you leave? Get tired of sacrificing half-bloods and killing curious humans in the name of your superior race?” Aedran mocked.

  Thaelen shot him a sharp glare, then immediately looked away toward Kaeldric, who was watching him intently.

  “My brother is half-blood. My father impregnated a human during a mission, and I discovered he was living here. I never aligned myself with my people’s supremacist ideals, so I requested permission to care for him in exchange for serving in the guard—under supervision,” he explained with flawless precision.

  Aedran immediately noticed the speech was rehearsed. Every word had been carefully practiced to avoid trouble with people like Kaeldric. Rather than reassuring him, it only deepened his distrust.

  Before he could respond, another man stood up nervously. He was older than Aedran, with greasy hair and a sweaty brow.

  “My name is Marrek Holt,” he said uncertainly.

  Aedran recognized the surname: merchants. Not bourgeois like Lyara’s family, but well-known—especially within the guard, since they supplied armor-grade steel.

  “I was a captain in an anti-smuggling regulation unit, but I was accused of treason,” he continued. “Though I deny it, I was demoted to soldier and assigned to this division while my trial is resolved.”

  Lyara and Aedran exchanged glances, then looked at Kaeldric, who nodded silently.

  Weird guy, was the only thing Aedran thought before turning to the final member, who still sat with her head buried between her knees.

  She made no attempt to look at him or move an inch. Aedran seriously wondered whether she was asleep… or dead. He rose from the table, walked over, and tapped her black hair twice. Only then did she lift her head.

  Her hair was completely disheveled, falling unevenly over her face. Her skin was unnaturally pale, as though she hadn’t seen sunlight in months. Her large amber eyes glimmered faintly. She was far too thin. Aedran guessed she hadn’t eaten properly in days. She was… pretty, maybe—but so gaunt it was hard to tell what lay beneath that haunted expression.

  She looked at him. Her hands began to tremble, and she pulled her legs tighter against her chest before hiding her face again.

  “She’s like a turtle,” Aedran muttered warily. “What is she? The team’s pet or something?”

  The girl didn’t react at all. Aedran’s expression hardened slightly as he turned to Kaeldric in silence, demanding an answer.

  “She…” the began. “That’s Elryn Voss, a young recruit. She was part of a complex mission—her entire unit was killed in a mage attack. She was the only survivor… but she was left traumatized.”

  “You don’t say,” Aedran replied dryly.

  “That’s horrible,” Lyara added sympathetically, looking at the young woman.

  “And why wasn’t she dismissed or sent to a clinic? Isn’t this reckless?” Aedran asked.

  Kaeldric motioned for him to come closer. Aedran complied reluctantly, leaning in to listen in a low voice.

  “Her father is a well-known activist. The last thing we need is a scandal while we’re negotiating the union with the other four nations…”

  “Three nations,” Aedran corrected.

  “Yes, yes… the Gramorguians still don’t accept us,” Kaeldric admitted warily. “So, taking advantage of the fact that she’s still an apprentice and lives in the guard dormitories, we’ll keep her out of sight until the agreement is signed—and, if possible, try to help her cope with her trauma.”

  “In a dangerous subdivision with little chance of ever stabilizing?” Aedran asked, stunned by the stupidity of what he was hearing.

  “And under his command?” Lyara added, listening in without permission and pointing at Aedran.

  He wanted to protest but couldn’t find a single argument to contradict her.

  “‘What better person to help the traumatized than someone traumatized themselves?’” Kaeldric explained. “That’s what the Lord said when he assigned her.”

  Aedran let out a low growl and looked back at the team.

  “So, in short, I’ve got a bunch of idiots who didn’t fit anywhere else and ended up here… and two women who are marginally competent?”

  “Aww, you think I’m competent?” Lyara teased softly, though her voice trembled—she had to be terrified by the situation too.

  “Marginally.”

  “Yes, well. Just remember—it’s your choice whether to reject them,” Kaeldric continued. “In that case, Marrek wouldn’t be able to prove his innocence here, and he’d most likely be sentenced to death for treason. Thaelen would be exiled for security reasons, leaving his brother an orphan. And Elryn would remain locked in her dormitory, with no help of any kind, until the union of the nations is finalized.”

  “Emotional blackmail? Again?”

  Kaeldric nodded.

  Aedran narrowed his eyes and sat back down on the desk.

  “What do you know about camelic magic?” Aedran asked, slowly lifting his gaze.

  Lyara looked at him, confused, then glanced at the rest of the team.

  “Well…” Thaelen began, raising his hand. “It’s the ability certain individuals possess to draw power from Camellium stone. Depending on the type of magic they wield, they can do different things.”

  “A dictionary definition…” Aedran muttered, scanning them one by one. “What’s the best way to deal with a mage?”

  Aoi raised her hand immediately. Aedran looked at her and gave a slight nod.

  “With black stone.”

  “Why?”

  “Black stone has special properties that isolate camelic magic. When a mage is wounded by it, their magical channels are sealed—temporarily, or permanently if the cut is deep enough.”

  “Good.”

  “Isn’t that also a dictionary definition?” Thaelen complained.

  Aedran ignored him.

  “Then why don’t we use black stone for everything, if it’s the best way to protect ourselves?”

  The apprentices fell silent for several seconds. Finally, Marrek raised his hand, visibly nervous.

  “Because it’s extremely rare,” he said. “And its production requires an overly complex process. It’s so resistant that only industrial furnaces located in specific volcanoes can generate enough heat to shape it.”

  Aedran nodded, briefly glancing at his armor, whose core was made of black stone.

  As expected from a merchant… but they’re still textbook answers, he thought.

  “Last question…” he said, adjusting his hair.

  Lyara had a sense of where this was going and chose not to answer. She wanted to see how the others would react.

  “What determines whether a mage is dangerous?”

  “The amount of energy they can channel,” Thaelen answered without hesitation. “A mage’s rank depends almost entirely on how much magic they can naturally release.”

  “That’s an oversimplification,” Aoi cut in. “If that were true, elemental magic and materialization would be the most powerful, since they require greater raw power. Yet seal magic and entropy are far more efficient—and far more dangerous. The more dangerous the discipline, the more dangerous the mage.”

  “You’re also ignoring the fact that mages can use artifacts and resources,” Marrek added, “like red Camellium, to amplify their magic. Shouldn’t the one with the most resources be more dangerous?”

  “Of course not,” Thaelen shot back. “That still depends on the mage’s own power. No matter how good an artifact is, if the user can’t handle it, it’s useless.”

  “Be logical,” Aoi countered. “The Pale Lady and Veroncia were primarily entropy witches, and they were the most powerful in history.”

  “They were polycamelic,” Thaelen replied. “They had so much power that all their magic was ridiculously strong.”

  A sharp clap echoed through the room.

  The three of them froze. Aedran sighed.

  “The druid believes everything comes down to the raw power a mage is born with—luck and inheritance,” he said as he grabbed Thaelen’s file and tossed it onto the floor. “Quite fitting for a race that believes in genetic superiority.”

  “Quite fitting coming from a Gramorguian,” the drynari snapped back, frustrated.

  Aedran smiled and picked up Aoi’s file. He had skimmed it while they were answering. He threw it to the floor as well.

  “The kenary isn’t much different. She believes danger comes from the type of magic—but she’s still chained to birth-given power. Fitting, considering she belongs to a minority of her race born with special abilities… though apparently not valuable enough for anyone to care when her family leave. Or are you trying to convince yourself that being one of the ‘special ones’ makes you unique?”

  Aoi stiffened from head to toe and turned forward, teeth clenched.

  “And the merchant?” Aedran continued. “He believes everything comes down to resources.”

  Marrek lowered his head without replying as his file joined the others on the floor.

  “Magnificent. Three different answers to a question that determines whether you’ll survive… and all three are perfectly predictable,” Aedran complained.

  “Then what’s the correct answer?” Aoi asked.

  Aedran shrugged.

  “Not my job to give it to you in this moment, you are still not accepted as my responsibility in this moment,” he said as he stepped down from the desk and stretched lazily.

  “Aren’t you being a bit arbitrary?” Lyara asked from behind him. Aedran looked at her with thinly veiled sarcasm. “Even for you,” she added.

  “And why does any of this matter?” Thaelen interjected.

  “For two reasons,” Aedran replied. “First, it lets me understand you better—how and why you’re going to screw up. Second, because to work with me, you need to pass a physical aptitude test and a logical aptitude test.”

  He paused.

  “And you just scored zero points on the logic test.”

  End of Chapter 5.

  You can access early chapters, previews, and exclusive content on Patreon. Your support helps keep the story alive and growing.

  14 early chapter here