Nagumo Sensei stood at the front of the Patrol hall, hands clasped behind his back, posture as unyielding as the stone walls that framed the room. Morning light filtered in through the narrow windows, the Sol already high, its steady glow casting long lines across the floor where rows of students stood in attentive silence.
"This is not training," Nagumo said.
The words landed heavily, stripping away any lingering sense of routine.
"You will not be graded on speed. You will not be graded on obedience. You will not be graded on how impressive you look while doing your work." His gaze moved slowly across the room, measuring reactions. "You will be evaluated on judgment."
A few students shifted their weight. Others straightened instinctively.
"Your first case," Nagumo continued, "will be simple on paper. That is intentional. Patrols are not deployed for spectacle. We are deployed when something doesn't add up."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"You will work in groups," he said. "Three to a team. Patrols operate best when perspectives overlap without echoing."
A faint murmur rippled through the hall.
"Choose carefully," Nagumo added. "This will not be the last time your decisions here follow you into the field."
The murmur grew louder as students turned to one another, eyes scanning faces, alliances forming quickly. Some choices were obvious—friends grouping together, familiar kingdoms clustering. Others hesitated, weighing reputation against instinct.
Taren Watt did not hesitate at all.
He turned immediately, one arm already half-raised, and took two quick steps toward Aerin. "Hey," he said, the word casual but his tone deliberate. "You should join us."
Aerin looked at him, expression unreadable.
Cyros stood a step behind Taren, hands at his sides, watching without comment.
"You, me, and Cyros," Taren continued. "Seems efficient."
Aerin's gaze shifted past Taren to Cyros.
For a moment, the noise of the hall seemed to dim.
She remembered the intelligence test. Taren's answer—imperfect, but thoughtful, built around human behaviour rather than procedure. Cyros's answer—precise, unsettling in its clarity, identifying not just what happened, but why it was hidden. She remembered the way he had spoken only when necessary, the way he had not looked for approval when he was proven right.
She also remembered the courtyard. Lara's smile.
Aerin exhaled slowly.
"Alright," she said.
Taren grinned immediately, relief and triumph flashing across his face. "Perfect. Knew it."
Cyros met Aerin's eyes briefly and inclined his head in acknowledgment. Nothing more was said.
Other teams formed quickly after that. Names were called, groupings finalized. When the movement settled, Nagumo nodded once, satisfied.
"Good," he said. "Remember this moment. You chose each other."
With a sharp gesture, he activated the display panels mounted along the walls. The room divided itself subtly, partitions sliding into place, isolating each group into its own quiet space. Case files illuminated one by one, projected in clean, restrained detail.
Nagumo stepped toward Cyros's team.
"Your assignment," he said, "is classified as a minor burglary."
A map appeared, highlighting a small region far from Helior Prime.
"Location: Vireth Kingdom," Nagumo continued. "Specifically, a secondary research lab on the outskirts of one of its academic districts."
Taren leaned forward slightly. "What was stolen?"
Nagumo's eyes flicked to him. "Officially? Nothing of consequence."
Aerin's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
"The lab reported unauthorised access during late hours," Nagumo said. "No damage. No missing equipment. One data record is unaccounted for."
He gestured to a smaller display. A single line of data blinked into focus—Calibration Log
"The missing record," Nagumo said. "One file. One timestamp."
Taren frowned. "That's it?"
"That's it," Nagumo confirmed.
Silence followed.
"You will travel early tomorrow morning," Nagumo continued. "Arrive before the lab resumes full operation. Observe. Ask questions. Do not accuse. Do not escalate unless necessary."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"And do not assume the obvious answer is the correct one."
He stepped back and reached into a nearby storage case, retrieving three compact devices. He placed them on the table between them.
"Hand knuckles," Nagumo said. "Crafted to channel ember output efficiently. Defensive use only."
Taren picked one up, turning it over with interest. "So… just in case."
"Always," Nagumo replied.
Aerin accepted hers without comment, fastening it securely around her hand and testing the fit with practised ease.
Cyros held his for a moment longer than the others, feeling the faint hum beneath the surface. It responded sluggishly to his ember core, but it responded nonetheless.
"Any questions?" Nagumo asked.
Taren opened his mouth, then closed it again, thinking better of it.
"No," Cyros said quietly.
Nagumo inclined his head once. "Good. Dismissed."
The partitions slid away. Students began to move, voices rising as speculation and anticipation filled the hall. Some were excited. Others nervous. A few looked disappointed at the simplicity of their assignments.
Cyros felt none of those things.
As he walked back toward the dormitories, the word Vireth lingered in his mind.
He had never been there.
He imagined a quieter kingdom, less rigid than Helior Prime, its cities built around function rather than dominance. Research labs tucked into districts where students and scholars walked the same streets as merchants and craftsmen. A place where the Sol's presence felt less like a symbol and more like a tool.
Tomorrow, they would see what lay beneath that steadiness.