Academy life was predictable. That was the point. Wake at dawn, march in formation, salute until your arm went numb, swallow down rations that tasted like recycled socks, and listen to lectures about how lucky you were to serve.
The days blurred together fast. Order. Discipline. Obedience. The Holy Trinity of the Empire.
They started every morning with a pledge. A thousand cadets standing in perfect rows, fists to hearts, reciting the words like a prayer:
"The Empire is eternal. The Empress is order. We are her will."
I mouthed along with everyone else, just enough to look convincing. Inside, my brain supplied alternate lines. The Empire is a parasite. The Empress is propaganda. We are her pawns.
Greg said I shouldn't think like that, but he never stopped me from whispering jokes in his ear while we marched. Half the time, he encouraged it, because if I made people laugh, they saw me as friendly, not dangerous. Which was exactly what I wanted.
Classes were worse.
History: rewritten until even the lies got boring. "The United Earth tribes are savage, twisted by magic, unfit for civilization. Only the Empire protects humanity's legacy." The instructor said it like scripture. I wrote it down word for word, neat as a priest's prayer. Then under my breath, I'd whisper to Greg, "Protects humanity's legacy… by stealing its lunch money." He'd choke on his stylus trying not to laugh.
Political Theory: the art of parroting obedience. Essays on why loyalty was freedom, why questioning was weakness. I could write those in my sleep, every word sharp and polished. The proctors loved me for it. They never noticed that when I smiled, it didn't reach my eyes.
Math and Logic: finally something real. Equations, problem-solving, puzzle work. I tore through them, and for once it wasn't about pretending. I liked it. Shadows bent easier when I had numbers to measure them against.
Then came drills. Endless running, climbing, sparring, shouting until our lungs rattled. I kept myself balanced—strong enough to pass, weak enough not to stand out. Until sparring day came, and I had to play dumb against boys who fought like bulls. Harder than the exams, honestly.
It all felt like theater. They weren't teaching us to think—they were teaching us to obey. The tests weren't about intelligence, they were about repetition. The drills weren't about strength, they were about conformity.
And conformity was the one thing I refused to give them.
---
A Week In
By the end of the first week, I had a reputation. Not "top student" (even though I was). Not "troublemaker" (even though I was that too). Something in between.
Cadets laughed when I cracked jokes at roll call. They asked me for help on tests. They watched me spar and muttered about luck instead of skill, because Greg made sure to tell them, "Oh yeah, Kaelen's just the luckiest guy alive."
The truth was, I liked it this way. Class clown. Smart but unserious. Harmless, mostly. Better that than anyone digging too deep.
The only one not fooled? Elara.
Every time I looked up in class, she was watching me. Not giggling at my jokes, not scowling either, just analyzing. Like she was trying to solve me. And I hated it.
Greg said it meant she liked me. I said it meant she had a stick jammed so far up her spine it scraped her teeth.
Neither of us was entirely wrong.
The Empire loved "teamwork exercises." Which was funny, considering teamwork here meant: "one of you gives the orders, the rest of you fall in line."
That day, they dropped us in the training yard with a set of holo-sim obstacles. The assignment was simple: retrieve a flag at the top of a wall while "enemy drones" fired stun-bolts at us. Three cadets per team. Fail, and you ran until your lungs gave out.
Naturally, I got paired with Greg. That part was fine. Less fine? The third slot went to Elara.
She didn't even look at me when she introduced herself. Just, "Cadet Elara Deylin, designated strategist." She said it like it was law.
Greg whispered, "Be nice."
I grinned. "I'm always nice."
"You're never nice," he hissed.
The buzzer sounded. Drones swarmed, bolts of blue light zipping through the air. Greg yelped and ducked. Elara barked orders like she was already a general.
"Move left! Stay in formation! Cover fire!"
"Cover fire with what?" I asked, ducking under a bolt. "My dazzling personality?"
"Just do as I say!" she snapped, already scaling the wall like the words themselves gave her handholds.
I let her climb, then glanced at Greg. He was panicking, which meant he wasn't paying attention to the drones circling in behind him. I slid in front, shadows twitching at the edges of my vision before I forced them down. Instead, I grabbed the drone's barrel and shoved it sideways, letting its bolt blast into another drone. Sparks rained.
"Lucky shot," I said, flashing Greg a grin.
He swallowed. "Uh-huh. Totally luck."
By the time we scrambled up after Elara, she was nearly at the top, arms shaking as she stretched for the flag. A drone buzzed in close, aiming straight at her back.
I didn't think. I moved. One hand caught the wall above her, my body braced against hers, the drone's bolt sizzling past my shoulder. I yanked the flag down with my free hand, dropping it into her lap.
And that's when I saw her face.
She was blushing. Green eyes wide, lips parted like she couldn't decide whether to yell at me or faint.
I grinned down at her, breathless. "Careful, Cadet Strategist. You almost lost your flag. And your balance."
Her mouth snapped shut. The blush darkened. "Y-you're insufferable."
"True," I said, dropping lightly back down the wall with the flag in hand. "But apparently also useful."
Greg scrambled after me, laughing nervously. "See? Teamwork!"
The buzzer blared again. The test was over. We'd won.
The proctor announced our completion time with something that sounded suspiciously like approval. Elara refused to look at me as we walked off the course. Greg elbowed me.
"She blushed."
"She scowled," I corrected.
"She blushed."
I shoved my hands into my pockets, hiding my smirk behind my tinted glasses. "Greg, you really need to get your eyes checked."
But the truth was, I'd seen it. That flicker of color. And I knew one thing with absolute certainty: Elara Deylin was not going to stop looking at me anytime soon.
Lucky me.