Page 17 of Veiled

All the while, Clowess hovers like a dark shadow at the edge of the map.

Calderon snatches the dry-erase pen up again like it personally offended him, and turns to face the board again, “There are four golden strategy rules…Scion’s foundation for every engagement, no matter the field, weapon, or enemy.”

He numbers them on the board as he speaks.

‘1. Know your enemy.’

“The war against Clowess has lasted over twenty years already. You had better believe we’re taking note of their battle strategies. We can strategize attacks and defenses with this information.”

‘2. Know yourself.’

“Your weaknesses will kill you faster than your enemies ever could.”

‘3. Adapt or die.’

“No plan survives first contact. Those who can’t adjust, don’t last.”

‘4. Win.’

“Win clean if you can. Win dirty if you must. But WIN.”

He turns back to us, eyes like flint. “If we cannot put an end to this war, make no mistake, Clowess will not stop at the border towns. They will conquer until they have the entire continent to themselves.

“Every day this war continues is another day our soldiers are dying. And every death is another chip from the shield protecting all of Thandroan.”

The room is silent, like everyone has forgotten how to breathe with the reminder that surviving Scion does not mean surviving the war. Countless lives are lost every day to the enemy’s dark practices.

After letting us sit with the weight of his words for a minute, Professor Calderon recounts more battle strategies that have proved successful in some of the battles along the border.

By the time the bell rings and we are dismissed, I have six pages of notes, half of which are in a shorthand that I’ll be lucky to be able to decipher tonight when I study.

Chairs scrape, whispers erupt, and we all scramble for the door.

“Do you think we should try to make flashcards on all of the types of battle formations to practice? Or do we cry and hope that was another side tangent that won’t actually be on our next test?” Matt asks, though he sounds much less defeated than I feel.

“Definitely flash cards,” I answer. “I don’t think we’ll ever be able to assume anything he says won’t be on a test. He’ll probably add things he never even talked about just to fuck with us.”

Splitting off for our second classes, I make my way up those three flights of stairs to my last official class of the day. Too afraid to not be able to pick my seat in Commander Varin’s class, I take the steps two at a time.

The third floor feels narrower than the rest, ominous somehow. The lights are lower, and the walls are lined with maps—topographical, magical, even one that looked like it had been painted in blood. A plaque beneath it read: Southern Ridgeland’s: 3rd Battalion, Final Stand.

Uplifting.

I walk through double doors made of reinforced wood and obsidian trim on the right side of the hall, and my jaw drops as I take in every single detail of the room. Matt and Sasha’s description did not do it justice yesterday. Far bigger than it would seem possible from the outside, the room is split into two sections—a standard classroom with long desks, and a series of illusions on rotation between pillars. The first mimics a dense pine forest like the one surrounding Scion, enchanted with sounds of rustling leaves and bird calls. Another is a mountainscape with at least four feet of snow blanketing the ground and a freezing wind so strong that I can practically feel it from here. A simulated urban zone occupies the center of the room, complete with ruined buildings, collapsed alleys, and what looks like a sewer entrance. Magic shimmers faintly at the edge of every scene, the only indication that they are, in fact, illusions and not some make-believe portal.

I’m grateful when Perry claims the seat next to me. Even if Matt hadn’t told me that word was spreading about how we got here, it wouldn’t have taken long to figure out. Now that I don’t have him and Sasha to distract me—the latter who took the truth shockingly well and even started defending our honor and calling Matt a hero—I can’t help but notice all of the recruits looking at the seat beside me like it’s a death sentence.

“Hey, Killer.”

“I didn’t…”

He laughs, cutting me off. “Don’t worry about explaining. I’ve known Lucas for long enough to know most of what he spews is bullshit. And what is true, he usually exaggerates for his own gain.”

“Wait, you knew Lucas before you got here? How? I’ve never seen you at the South Hollow events I was dragged to.”

“Uhm…you wouldn’t have. I've never been there. Lucas and I saw each other at King Lucen’s events…well, more like I saw him and he didn’t know I existed.”

“Ah, makes sense. Since it seems we’ll be spending a fair amount of time together, and I’m sure you’ll hear a lot of rumors, the truth is I did try to kill my dad.” His face pales a little, but I keep going. “Without going into detail, it was in self-defense, and he deserved it. But I understand if you want to switch seats.”