“Good gods,” he continued, “I hope whoever is responsible for that jacket has been punished according—”
Just as his lips parted, Jade smashed her palm flat against his mouth.
The guards swarmed. One of them hauled her from her seat. She kept her head turned to watch her new friend choke and sputter on tobacco. The guard forced her head down until she sat in the back-most row of seats. Then he stood sentry with his rifle across his chest. When she caught Liam’s eyes from down the aisle, he almost smiled.
The relic eased to a stop, jostling everyone in their seats. They had arrived at Ravencross.
The doors opened and everyone filed out into fresh, clean air. The sun’s caressing rays scorched Jade’s skin like Vall’s damned inferno. Jade’s restraints were removed as she was led into line with the rest of the group. In all her life, she had never done so much waiting. Then the clipboards with forms and pens attached by a chain were passed down the line. More paperwork. ‘Meria, did it never end?
Jade was distracted briefly by her new surroundings, but there was nothing worth her notice out here in incest-is-legal country. Seeing one Legion building was like seeing them all. Her eyes strained from the overuse of the color white. Aside from the buildings that made up the camp, Ravencross was surrounded by grassy plains. Jade marveled at the abundance of green, as her life had consisted exclusively of seaport towns made of dirt and stone.
She returned to her clipboard and filled in all she knew about herself. So, her name, basically. She couldn’t explain how, but she always knew her name to be Jade. Outside of that one fact was anyone’s guess. Under ‘surname’ she wrote Avaris, her preferred moniker since she was a young, silly girl with dreams of marrying a fictional character. She approximated her age to be mid-twenties. Birthday? She chose a date in fall, her favorite season. Height and weight: adequate and a lady never tells. Family history: N/A. Medical conditions: vanity, irresistible charm, and this occasional pain when she moved her wrist this one specific way, maybe a doctor should take a look.
The line moved with agonizing lethargy.
“Next, please,” ordered the young woman attending to their in-processing. Jade glanced up from her clipboard, peeking out from the queue and angling her head for a better vantage as Liam approached the desk. The desk was a lone island in the middle of the foyer, set up to accommodate the long line of incoming recruits. The woman’s face was the picture of cordial professionalism, but her eyes betrayed how very much she wished to be anywhere else. Glasses were perched on the tip of her nose as she angled her head to study each form presented to her.
The woman flipped through the form Liam handed to her, then shook her head as she said, “Sir, you haven’t filled out...half of this. I’ll need your surname for—”
Liam’s shoulders tensed. “I don’t have one.”
Her eyes fluttered, there was a long pause, then an adamant, “We need a name for our records, so that it can be sewn on your uniform—”
“Liam is fine.”
She sucked in a breath. Then she smiled, adopting a pandering tone. “I understand that circumstances might prevent you from knowing your full name, but we cannot move forward without one. If you like, you can pick—”
“Vall.”
“E-excuse me?”
Jade snickered. Good company did not use the deity’s name in anything above a whisper. Even the convicts had gasped at the blatant breach of sanctity. Vall represented many things, but of the three old world gods, he was most aligned with evil. The woman glanced around Liam, to the mile of recruits waiting to in-process.
“I can’t...I can’t write the name V—his name. You are...absolutely certain this is the name you wish to use?”
“I’m sure,” he replied.
The poor woman hesitated, her hand hovering over the paper. “Alright. Then… Liam Va…” she swallowed, then shook her head. “I don’t suppose you wish to provide any family history or medical?”
“Not applicable.”
“Yes, I see that.” She flipped through the rest of his paperwork. If he failed to fill in anything else, she didn’t mention. “Here is your barracks and training number. You can now move on to uniform sizing. Thank you Mr, um...Mr. Liam. Next!”
The line moved forward.
Jade’s new home for the next few weeks was the 11th barracks. It was a long room with rows of beds down each wall. Each bed came with a trunk and locker for belongings. In her hand was her bag and a uniform, though she was not looking forward to changing clothes.
Her Legion uniform was ill-fitting at best. A black circle had been sewn over the Legion insignia on the arms and over the name above the breast pocket, in case she forgot she was still technically a criminal. The material was strong, designed for durability rather than fashion. Meanwhile, her sewing supplies had been held as “possible weapons” so there was no way to attempt modifications. Jade removed her trusty bolero jacket then twisted her arms to reach the laces running up her back. She wrinkled her nose at the Legion approved undergarments. There would have to be some concessions, so she opted to use her own. No one would notice.
The cream-colored uniform jacket clung to the wrong places, tapering off in a way that made her hips appear gigantic. The black pants were coarse, rigid, and did not want to hug or cling. She worked her legs into the calf-high boots which, admittedly more sturdy and comfortable than anything she’d ever owned, were also the only element of the ensemble she didn’t wish to set on fire.
Horrified by her reflection, Jade stepped away from the lone mirror. Oddly, the other women sharing the room were concerned with the Legion handbooks that had been left on their beds.
A bell chimed. The tone was sharp, piercing and sent the women scurrying into the wide hallway that bridged the gendered sides of their training unit. Jade followed at an easy pace. Men and women formed into lines on either side of the hallway, backs’ rigid and chins thrust into the air. The idea of enduring this for the weeks of training was exhausting. Jade focused on the plan, on her reasons for being here. Liam stood on the men’s side, posture straight and face expressionless. She stepped into line and mimicked the posture of her fellow trainees by standing as if there were a stick up her ass.
A woman stood at the entrance to their hallway, her arms poised behind her back. She watched them with steady eyes. Once everyone was in place she marched down the space between their lines. She had a lovely figure, slim but athletic. The tightly coiled curls of her hair were pulled into a bun at the base of her neck. She examined each of the trainees with an unforgiving thoroughness.
She stopped in front of Jade. “Do you find something amusing, Inmate Avaris?”
Jade blinked, unaware she’d been grinning. “Just happy to be here.” She shook her head and amended, “I mean, sir. Just happy to be here, sir.”
The response was followed by a long, tense silence.
“Inmates,” the woman barked, startling Jade as she addressed everyone, “I am Lieutenant Gloria Whitaker. It’s my job to turn you criminals into something worthy of her Royal Majesty’s Legion.” Whitaker stopped in front of Jade’s friend from the relic, the asshole oozing superiority, and she pinched the fabric of his sleeve to show off the black circle. “You’ll all bear the mark of a criminal transfer until you’ve passed your training. Your status as convicts will remain with you until you have served your respective terms. For now, you are all Recruits. Before the day is over you will be given an ID card with this status on it, one that you will be required to carry on you at all times. If you are ever asked to display this ID card, and you do not, you’ll receive demerits. Enough demerits and you’re kicked from the program.”
Whitaker continued her speech as Jade tilted her head to read the name pinned to that asshole’s pocket. Gandry. His uniform fit him perfectly, that bastard, and he stood taller, straighter because of it. He was lanky, too much limb to body ratio. His gaze passed over her and his frown turned into a grimace. Jade breathed out through h
er nose, anger flaring at the nerve of him acting like she was the problem here. He was the problem. She was a fucking delight.
“Recruit Avaris.” Whitaker moved like smoke, popping into Jade’s vision without sound or warning. Whitaker’s dark eyes narrowed—eyes that would haunt Jade in her dreams. “Repeat the last thing I said.”
Jade peered around, at a loss. “You know, I can’t recall your exact wording. I just remember this overwhelming sense of inspiration.”
Whitaker’s face did not change, not a single muscle. Over her shoulder, Jade saw Gandry’s lips quirked in amusement. Damn it.
“When I talk, Recruit, I expect you to listen. Next time I call on you, you will recite my every word. Is that understood?”
Jade ground her teeth. She didn’t trust herself to speak immediately, swallowing down the responses she knew would only make this worse. She cleared her throat. “Yes, sir.”
The self-control was killing her. How could she do this for another three weeks?
Whitaker was satisfied enough to continue her speech. “You are here to pay a debt. That payment can be altered by me at any point during your time here, should I feel it’s warranted. Training is meant to prepare you for your work in the Legion. We start immediately. Recruits. Outside.”
Outside, interspersed with crisply green grass were sparring circles, weapon’s ranges, and a dirt track. The buildings of Ravencross surrounded the rectangular space on all sides except the furthest, where a wooded area met the property.
“Today, we’re going to be testing your physical aptitude. First, running. Complete ten laps around the track. Line up in groups of four.” Whitaker’s voice boomed across the well-trimmed lawn. There were groups and instructors gathered all over the camp yard. Every instructor looked pissed and every recruit looked ready to die.
Jade shuffled to the back of the group. Unfortunately, Gandry had the same idea and was already last in line, partnered with a dark-haired recruit. Jade was about to find a new group to join when Liam found her and made three an even four.
At least they would be last. That would allow her time to properly panic about running nearly three miles.
“First group line up at the start.” Whitaker whistled with her fingers and the first wave of runners took off around the track. The starting runners pushed hard—possibly to impress the instructor—but were losing steam fast. By the fourth lap, three were left doing a light jog and one was throwing up. Each of them had appeared fit, trim, muscle definition, limited body fat, and they had barely managed the run.
Whitaker blew her whistle and round two was off.
Liam crossed his arms as he watched the runners, fingers tapping away. “We’ll need to pace ourselves. Jog most of it.”
“I’m going to end up puking like that red-head,” Jade countered. She started up a mantra in her head that she was here for a reason. Normally, she would have ditched this place after the uniforms. But leaving wasn’t an option. So she was going to try. She fished through her pockets for a length of ribbon salvaged from her satchel. Her hairpins had been confiscated so the ribbon would have to do. “Here,” she handed the ribbon to Liam and crouched down in front of him, “See what you can manage. It just needs to be tight.”
“I told you there would be running.” His tone was scolding as he deftly moved his fingers through her hair. “Stop moving. This is impossible without hairpins.” He pressed his fingers against her temple to position her head. He was merciless when weaving out the tangles.
“I am utterly astounded,” Gandry’s droll tone carried over the panting runners catching their breath after their laps. He leaned in close to the dark-haired recruit, sharing an easy confidence that suggested they were friends. “I never would have imagined a harlot from Harrowind could afford such an attentive handmaid. Shame that it’s a wasted effort.”
“Alright, Gandry, we get it,” his friend scolded, though Gandry paid him absolutely no consideration.
Liam finished her hair, but held her down with pressure on her shoulder. “Just let him talk, Jade.”
She flashed her favorite smile and brushed Liam’s hand away. Gandry set an arm on his friend’s shoulder, leaning heavily on the shorter man.
“Look,” she said, “We started off on a bad note. I understand. You’ve got a small dick and that makes you lash out. But I’d like to think we can turn this around. You quit taking out your impotence frustrations on my friend and me and I don’t spread the rumor around the woman’s barracks that you not only slept with this Harrowind trash, but that the experience was rather like unripe fruit. Small. Premature. Unsatisfying.”
Gandry walked with an easy grace and a face blatantly seething. “Were I ever to lie with someone like you, I can guarantee I’ll have paid less than your father.”
They were drawing attention. All eyes were on the two and a wave of silent predictions were cast on who would strike first. Whitaker was focused on the runners, but she would notice them any second. Gandry presented a new wrench in the cogs of Jade’s plans. If ignoring him was the best way for that wrench to be crushed so those cogs could get back to working order, well...it wouldn’t be as satisfying, that’s for sure.
“Enough. You want to turn three months into a year?” The friend, Minoza according to his uniform, stepped in and tried to guide Gandry away. “Just let it go, man. She’s not worth it.” Minoza pulled Gandry’s shoulder, but he didn’t budge. It was clear he wouldn’t. As Gandry’s livid stare lingered on her, Jade realized this was more than instigation. This man had nothing left. He feared no consequences. He was unhinged.
“What’s going on here?” Whitaker’s barking cry cut through the tension. “Recruit Avaris and Recruit Gandry, the two of you can run an extra lap after the others have finished. If either of you speak another word to each other, you’re both getting demerits. All of you, on the starting line. Now.”
Jade had quite forgotten about running. She forgot to worry about her lack of endurance. An anticipation cramp was already forming in her side and she had the extra lap to look forward to now. It was a monumental effort to keep her mouth shut.
She lined up on the track and waited for the whistle.
“It’s fascinating, honestly,” Gandry spoke without moving his lips as he stepped into line beside her.
Jade looked straight ahead. Her jaw began to hurt. But she would not take the bait. She was not some helpless minnow chasing the shiny glowing prize of decking him in the goddamn face. She was resolute. Unmovable.
“That uniform epitomizes a standard of social bearing that is utterly shattered when worn by people like you.”
She closed her eyes. Ysmeria lend me strength.
“Still. It is a far cry better than those rags you arrived in.”
Whitaker blew her whistle.
Jade pivoted and let Gandry run into her fist. She hadn’t planned it. Her body was too trained to respond to her whims and had reacted faster than her brain could say ‘they’re just words, let it go.’
Blood erupted from his nose, raining over the dust on the track and on her clean uniform. Jade sped off while he wailed. Whitaker didn’t let her stop until nightfall.
CHAPTER NINE
FATE HAS BROUGHT US TOGETHER. FATE AND TERRORISTS.
Politics were the foundation of Aldon’s life. He was the only child of an unmarried Senator. He had scribbled his ABC’s on ballots and zoning forms. His first steps were in a conference room. His father had read law and history texts as bedtime stories. He was educated by the finest schools alongside Royalty. But his dreams took him to battlefields. Showed him defending his country with honor and valor. A hero.
As the sun waned on another long day Aldon descended the many steps of the Royal Court. He passed through thick layers of protection wards and shield enchantments. The sensation of it was like pushing through a steady waterfall made of icy gelatin.
Vacua’s Royal Court was built along the upward slope of the Waverly Mountains, with bridges and walkways
erected to compensate for the rough terrain. The Court overlooked Azlemaine. From the steps, Aldon could see spires break the horizon of a darkening sky. Windows popped with light against the silhouettes of their buildings. Just beyond the market districts, to the west of Court, were the billowing flags standing proud before Legion Headquarters.
Twice, Aldon had filled out the application to Oxbridge. He grew his hair so it covered the smooth skin where his right ear should be and worked on his balance. His father urged him to pursue the Royal Academy instead.
“You can help people in the Capitol. A soldier can only accomplish so much. A soldier follows the orders of their superiors, they do what is directed by those in power. The real work is achieved here, at Court. You can make a difference, Aldon.” Harmon Ackerman was a practical man who believed politics desperately lacked integrity. He encouraged integrity in his adopted son, urging Aldon to use his heart and mind together, but always steering Aldon to Court.
Then Harmon Ackerman died. Aldon let grief sway his decision. His father was right, anyway. There was more to be done through Court than as a foot soldier. So long as he was unwaveringly patient and persistent. There was the small cost of him being excluded from Vacua and the world in general. His home was no more familiar to him than Rowm or Helvik. His apartment in the Hartwick District was two miles from Court and he never had reason or time to travel beyond. He was an outsider.
Aldon’s thoughts turned as he walked his normal route for home. He sensed that there was little anyone could do to stop the impending disaster, in court or as a legionnaire. While politicians and the gentry inched and skirted the word, Aldon had given up any pretense. Free Chanters were terrorists. Worse than anything, they were not helping their case. Acting aggressive was perpetuating every fear and suspicion about Chanters. Every hostile action they made sent people scurrying further into their fear and soon they would lash out. Then there was Vinnia—Queen Havinnia, rather—who was clearly holding back information. Not that he expected her to share state secrets with someone like him, but it nagged at him all the same.
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