Chapter 313: Chapter 313

Jim walked up to the crowd and said, "I know we did not win. We did not even do that well. But it was not that bad. It could have gone a hells of a lot worse, so I guess that means it was a passing grade for the first attempt. Here you go, Imujin, here is the report that you wanted me to file while we were doing all of this." He held out the soaked, mud-stained tablet like it was some kind of cursed artifact he had fished out of a ruin. Mud dripped from the corner of it in slow, miserable strands, as if even the device was exhausted by the day.

A few people in the crowd leaned back from the dripping tablet like it might explode. Jim did not notice. He looked too tired for subtlety.

"What report," Warren asked, wiping mud off his face with the back of his hand. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his jacket was more mud than fabric, and his entire expression said he was absolutely not mentally prepared for any kind of paperwork. The man could terraform a battlefield with a gesture, but a sheet of administrative responsibility nearly broke him.

"The report on your first act as a headmaster," Imujin said, as if this were the most reasonable thing ever asked of anyone in the history of anything. "I just wanted to document this first trial. Why do you think I put the four of them on the side with your students. I needed to make sure that I had all of this documented from people I trust, even if they are idiots half the time." He sighed, long and slow, sounding like a man who had seen war, peace, and the stupidity between them, and found the stupidity the hardest part.

Several of the tribesmen snickered. Warren rubbed his temples.

"Jim was probably the only one who actually got a good report done. He had been the only one who paid attention when I said we would do this on the trip here." Imujin said, narrowing his eyes at the trio as he looked at Gwen, Deck, and Lisa scowling like they had been personally attacked by responsibility.

Deck said, "Oh, I understood what the assignment was. I just did not really give a shit." He gave a shrug that somehow managed to communicate laziness, pride, stubbornness, and resignation all at once. It was almost impressive.

Lisa said, "I thought this was actually punishment." She sounded equal parts confused and betrayed, as though she had been emotionally preparing herself for a prison sentence rather than a training exercise.

Gwen yelled from the wall, her voice echoing over the ruined bog, "Yeah, that was horrible. I am never going into swamps again. I refuse." She clung to the stone like a drenched bird desperate to stay off the ground, her entire spirit offended by the concept of mud.

Jim watched all three of them with the exhausted patience of a man who had been forced to supervise toddlers armed with weapons. "It was not that bad for a first. You just put probably two of the worst people for this kind of trial out here, Imujin. Deck, I do not think he and his team dug a single hole, and Gwen definitely only shot bugs. Lisa did alright, but the other two were horrible. They are not from the Yellow, and they clearly would never survive out here." He shook his head, as if mourning the tragedy of their incompetence.

Gwen called down from the wall, "Yeah, what he said." She sounded proud of it too, like being useless in the swamp was somehow a personal achievement.

Deck replied, "Eh, this was gross. The bugs were horrible. But now it is over at least." He kicked at a clump of dried mud as though it had personally offended him.

A few tribesmen eyed him like they were debating throwing him back into the bog.

Imujin looked at his instructors with the flat, unimpressed stare of someone who had already decided the next month of their lives for them. "I hated the idea of this. I am not going to lie to you all. But honestly, I think we got too civilized. Until the siege, or until we get called out for another mission, we are going to be in this bog helping set up more traps every day. Do you get me." His voice rose at the end, sharp enough to slice through the groans.

Someone in the crowd audibly whispered, "Hells no," but quickly shut up.

"Anyone who does not complete at least two pits an hour has to eat only bug bars until the next mission," Imujin said. "Alorna will be watching. I promise you all that if she finds out you slacked, you will not know the taste of real food until then."

A groan rolled across the former instructors like a physical wave. One leaned against another for support. Another muttered something about quitting the Legion and becoming a wandering fisherman.

Warren looked around and frowned. "Where is Alorna, by the way. I swear she was here when we started, and now I have no idea where she went. Or Josaphine. Or Wirk, for that matter."

A few heads turned, as though only now realizing the missing faces.

Imujin rubbed his jaw. "Oh, I have no idea what Alorna is up to, but she is out in the bog doing something. I can feel her. As for Josaphine, I sent her back. She was not feeling well. And Wirk went with her. I think they said something about meeting back up with Florence and Lambert and someone called Dr. Morgan."

Warren stared at him. "So, she vanished into the swamp, and you are just... calm about that."

Imujin nodded. "It is Alorna. She is either drawing stick figures in the mud or dismantling an army. Or whatever the hells she does when no one is looking."

Half the crowd collectively accepted this as truth.

Warren turned to Imujin and Isol and asked, "Do either of you want to come with us to High Commander Ruka's dinner in about... how long do we have." He called out over his shoulder, trying to shake mud out of his boots without looking like he was shaking mud out of his boots.

Chime answered without looking up from washing mud off her sleeves. She had found a bucket somewhere, filled it with water from a puddle Warren prayed was at least ten percent clean, and was aggressively scrubbing. "We got about an hour and... yeah, an hour. Maybe a bit more if the platform is slow coming back up."

"Great. Yeah, would you like to come with us to High Commander Ruka's dinner," Warren asked, only realizing halfway through the sentence that he sounded like a man begging for adult supervision.

Isol shrugged in that tired, resigned way he had perfected over the years. "I would not mind. Josaphine apparently has plans, so I guess I am free. And I think it is technically my job to chronicle all of this." He reached out to take the notes from Lisa and Jim with exaggerated care, lifting them like ancient relics, all while scowling sharply at Deck.

Deck pretended not to notice, which somehow made it worse.

"I think I can go with you as well," Imujin added as he pulled his shirt back on. "I was going to explore your city as it will be our home for a while at least, but I think it is more important for me to be there for your meeting to see what she tries to do. Also, I think it would be funnier if I show up uninvited."

Tasina tugged on Wren's sleeve, her entire being vibrating with hope. "Can I come."

Wren crouched to eye level and gently smoothed Tasina’s hair. "I am sorry, honey. That is for grown-up people."

Tasina’s face crumpled instantly. Her lip wobbled. Her eyes widened. She looked genuinely offended by the concept that dinner could be age restricted. The most update n0vels are published on NoveI[F]ire.net

Wren quickly stepped in, taking Tasina from Warren. "We can have a dinner of our own later, I promise. And also, you are going to get a crown and you are going to get a shiny rock from... what was your name again, sir," she asked Velrock, turning toward him while still holding Tasina close.

Velrock blinked, pausing mid step. "Oh, it is Velrock. Well... it is Brian. But you can call me Velrock."

Warren stared at him, brow furrowing. "Your name is Brian."

Velrock nodded slowly, as though bracing for impact. "My first name is Brian. Velrock is my surname. I just go by it because I am a teacher and I do not want my students calling me Brian."

This caused several heads to swivel toward him at once.

Varnai tilted her head, eyes wide. "Your name is actually Brian."

"Yes. What is wrong with Brian," Velrock asked, perturbed, his hands spreading in defensive confusion.

"Nothing. It is just that the lizard was so cool and Velrock sounds so awesome and then there is Brian. It is just normal, like the most meh name for someone so awesome," she said, completely earnest.

Velrock opened his mouth, closed it, reconsidered the meaning of life, the concept of identity, the sharpness of children’s honesty, and then very quietly said, "I like my name." He looked away, muttering something that sounded like he was reassuring himself that Brian was in fact a perfectly respectable name.

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Lisa patted him on the shoulder as she walked by. "It is a nice name," she said cheerfully, though even she could not quite keep the smile from twitching.

Velrock stood a little straighter at that, pretending he did not desperately need the validation.

Warren clapped him on the back. "Brian Velrock the Lizard King does have a good ring to it," he said with a grin.

Velrock sighed, resigned to the fact that the name Brian was going to haunt him for his time in Mara and possibly the rest of his natural life.

Tasina nodded, fully satisfied. "Thank you, Brian. I will take the shiny rock now."

Velrock blinked again. "Later. You will get it later."

Tasina accepted this with the patience of a queen who had many subjects to manage.

Warren shook his head, amused. "Alright. We should clean up. High Commander Ruka scares me enough without tracking swamp mud into her dining hall."

"Fair," Isol said. "Very fair."

They all collectively agreed that offending High Commander Ruka was a terrible idea, and preparations for dinner began with the same seriousness they had just used to rip the bog apart.

As Vaeliyan and the Complaints Department, along with Isol and Imujin, got ready to go see High Commander Ruka and Helen for dinner, they put on their Legion finery with a mix of excitement, dread, and the kind of chaotic energy that defined every moment of their squad. Their uniforms were cleaned, polished, and tailored, although most of them still looked slightly rumpled from the day’s absolute swamp‑disaster of training. Still, it was good enough. Legion finery was expected to survive blood, sand, and political tension, so a bit of leftover mud hardly counted.

They checked their gear, straightened each other's collars, argued about who looked most likely to embarrass the High Commander, and made sure none of them smelled like bog water. Sylen forced Jurpat to redo his collars twice, and Lessa redid her braids in the reflection of one of the park’s metal lamp posts. Even Isol adjusted his sleeves, muttering something about presentation, dignity, and not wanting Ruka to think he lived in a ditch.

The flight plan for the Boltfire would have them arrive ten minutes early, which Isol insisted was fifteen minutes late to being early. He crossed his arms, frowning, calculating invisible timetables in the air. “We are going to be late to being early,” he said with absolute seriousness.

Vaeliyan just smiled and said, "It is alright, old man. It is not your reputation that is going to be ruined by us being late. We have our own reputation to ruin."

Jurpat laughed so hard that Sylen elbowed him, which did nothing except make him laugh harder. Gwen snorted. Fenn covered her mouth to hide a grin. Even Elian cracked a smile.

After saying their goodbyes to the rest of Mara’s citizens and the tribesmen still lingering in the park, they walked toward the back section of the massive green space where the Boltfire lay. The Skycraft rested quietly behind Vaeliyan’s estate, settled wide and solid on its landing struts. Its hover rings were dark and dormant, the whole ship silent and waiting like some great beast conserving strength.

The park was large enough to hold the several estates that now occupied it and the Boltfire comfortably, but the presence of the Skycraft still dominated the space. Children occasionally peeked around benches to stare at it. Adults pretended not to stare. The Boltfire simply existed there, towering and calm, as though part of the landscape now.

Just before Vaeliyan stepped onto the ramp, a strange figure walked into the park.

The figure was heavily hooded, long and draped in a way that made its silhouette wrong, too tall and too straight. The afternoon sun cast shadows across the hood so completely that no features could be seen. Nothing. Not eyes, not skin, not shape.

Yet Vaeliyan felt something from it. Not danger exactly, but something old and sharp, like ancient grief wrapped in quiet hatred. Or misery that had learned to stand upright.

He took a step closer. Then another.

The figure stood taller than any man Vaeliyan had ever seen. Taller than anyone in the Green. Its presence pressed through the air like cold stone submerged in deeper cold.

Slowly, the hooded head tilted, as though the figure was studying him back, confused by him, by this moment, by something neither of them understood.

Vaeliyan did not blink. Could not blink.

The wind shifted. Leaves scraped across the path.

Chime walked up beside him and said, "Hey captain, you ready to go." Her voice cut cleanly through the tension.

Vaeliyan glanced at her. "Yeah." His voice sounded distant, even to himself.

No footsteps. No sound. No trace of movement.

Vaeliyan stared at the empty space where the figure had been for a long moment before finally stepping onto the ramp, still feeling the echo of something ancient watching him from somewhere he could not see.

Vaeliyan looked at Chime and said, "Did you see that person over there." His voice was steady, but his eyes were still locked on the exact spot where the figure had stood moments before. He pointed toward the empty grass, his posture tense with the kind of alertness that came only from something genuinely disturbing him.

Chime squinted at nothing, shading her eyes against the late afternoon light as though that might suddenly reveal the missing stranger. "No. You sure you saw someone there, Captain. Because there is absolutely nobody there right now." Her tone was casual, but there was a small crease forming between her brows.

"Yeah, I am sure," Vaeliyan said. He did not look away from the space. He looked as if he expected the air itself to shift wrong again. "They felt like they were angry at me. Like I could feel it from way over there. Or they were sad. I am not really sure which. But there was definitely someone there, and they were tall. Really tall. Taller than anyone I have ever seen. They were covered in a massive hood and heavy clothing. And they were not... normal. Not even close."

Chime raised an eyebrow, giving him a sideways look. "Not normal how. Not normal like weird haircut, or not normal like the kind of thing that makes us need to invent new war crimes?"

Vaeliyan frowned and finally turned toward her. "It is odd that somehow, when I turned to you, they moved out of my perception. Which is incredibly difficult to do. My perception is insane." he said, tapping the side of his head. "They got into my blind spot somehow."

He shook his head, frustrated. "And now they are gone. I did not even see them move. I only noticed them because they were standing exactly where a normal person’s perception would end. Like they stepped out of the edge of reality or something."

Chime stared at him for a long moment, then slowly turned her gaze back to the empty patch of park. The breeze rustled through the leaves, calm and indifferent, as if mocking the tension simmering in Vaeliyan’s voice.

"So," Chime said finally, "let me get this straight. Some giant, hooded someone with emotional issues and zero respect for physics managed to stand exactly where a normal person wouldn't be able to see, then disappeared the second you looked away. And you felt either violent hatred or world-ending sadness coming off them like a campfire." She paused. "Because that sounds like the kind of problem we should absolutely ignore until it becomes a catastrophic one."

Vaeliyan opened his mouth, shut it again, and then shrugged helplessly. He had no rebuttal.

Chime clapped him lightly on the arm. "Come on. Let’s get on the Boltfire before Isol starts lecturing us about being late again. Last time he started talking about punctuality, Fenn almost threw himself into a trash bin to escape." She grinned. "We are not letting that happen twice in one hour."

Vaeliyan took one last long look at the spot where the figure had stood, unease scraping lightly along the edges of his mind. Then he exhaled, turned away, and followed Chime toward the Boltfire. Even as he walked, his thoughts lingered on the inexplicable sense of presence he had felt, wondering if that tall, hooded stranger was still watching from somewhere just beyond his impossible perception. He doubted he would get answers soon, but the feeling refused to leave.

"Definitely catastrophic problem later," Chime muttered as they walked. Vaeliyan almost agreed.

As the Boltfire cut back through the upper atmosphere, the Complaints Department gathered along the viewing wall, drawn toward the wide expanse of glass that looked out across the world below. The sky shifted from gold to pale blue to the deepening navy of the approaching sea. Chime guided the Skycraft with calm precision, fingertips tapping rhythmic adjustments across the control panel as Orruvaal’s approach beacon pinged across her console in soft, glowing pulses.

Vaeliyan leaned forward slightly as the familiar shimmer appeared on the horizon, an oval distortion that flickered gently, revealing where the ocean concealed the entrance to the underwater city. Even knowing exactly what caused that distortion, it still looked like sorcery to him. The Boltfire slowed as they neared the waypoint, the hum of the onboard systems dimming into near stillness.

The Boltfire hovered in perfect silence, suspended high above the water without the faintest trace of movement. Its hover rings held it steady with the same effortless grace that defined every piece of Legion engineering. Below them, the Paranthian Sea glittered with bright points of reflected light, as if the waves themselves were studded with scattered diamonds. For a moment, there was nothing but the quiet, the sea, and the distant call of seabirds far below.

Jurpat tapped the window with one finger. “Feels like we are waiting for a god to decide if we can come inside. Not that I would complain. Good place to be judged.”

Elian crossed his arms as he stared downward. “Dramatic, maybe. But look at it. This is what credits does when someone has too much of it. Orruvaal was never made to scare people away. It was made to make them stare. It is the world’s largest flex.”

A quiet laugh traveled through the squad. Roan shook his head. Chime flicked a switch, waiting for the confirmation ping. Even Isol shifted slightly, though he tried to pretend he was unmoved.

Seconds passed. Then a minute. Then another.

Finally, the ocean surface rippled. The disturbance spread outward in a perfect circle. A hidden seam split open with a smooth, controlled motion, seawater sliding inward like a curtain being pulled aside. The massive platform began to rise from the depths below. Water cascaded from its edges in flowing sheets, catching the sunlight in bright, shimmering arcs.

Lessa whistled softly. “Still absolutely unreal. I know it has only been a few hours, but damn. Orruvaal really wants you to remember the entrance.”

Sylen nodded, her tone reverent. “Yeah. It is one of the coolest landing zones in the world. No question.”

Once the platform locked into place flush with the surface, an amber light pulsed around its ring, signaling a safe descent.

Chime cracked her knuckles, her smile small and satisfied. “There we go.”

She lowered the Boltfire with careful precision. The Skycraft descended as if guided by invisible hands, lowering inch by inch until the landing struts met the platform. A soft vibration traveled up through the deck as the clamps engaged.

Only then did the platform begin its descent.

Vaeliyan watched as the world seemed to sink around them. The horizon rose while the water spilled over the edges of the platform in continuous streams, forming smooth, mirrored waterfalls. The sea closed overhead, rippling like a living ceiling as the platform glided downward on its rails.

Roan stretched his shoulders, shaking out lingering tension. “Second time. Still weird. Still makes me feel like the ocean wants to swallow us and then spit us back out polished.”

Elian nudged him lightly. “Weird does not mean bad. This place is gorgeous. Look at the architecture. Orruvaal was designed to entice. The city wants you to love it the moment you see it. It is a tourist trap built by geniuses.”

Vaeliyan glanced upward as the last of the surface light shimmered and broke into ribbons overhead. “Yeah. It is beautiful. Completely unnecessary, but beautiful.”

As the dome’s inner gates sealed around them, the pressure equalized with a deep thrum that vibrated gently through the metal beneath their feet. The platform slid smoothly into the arrival bay, and the outer doors finally parted with a soft, welcoming glow.

Standing just beyond the threshold were Helen and High Commander Ruka, waiting with an air of calm authority.

They were not meeting for orders.

They were meeting for dinner.

Which, somehow, felt significantly more dangerous than any mission could ever hope to be.