Chapter Text
“Neil Abram Josten,” he whispers, signing the name at the end of the contract. With a sigh, he releases the pen and lifts his head to face the three men in front of him. Mr. Johnson glances at the door every two seconds, and his fingers drum the table in a steady rhythm. Ms. Reynolds stares at Neil with her head slightly tilted and a crooked smile on her face; the smile widens when she notices Neil watching. He turns his eyes back to Wymack, his new General, a man with tribal tattoos covering his arms, a prominent wrinkle between his eyebrows, and a frown that seems to be his only expression.
General Wymack makes a scene dragging his chair and stands up. Everyone in the room imitates the gesture a second later. The cat at his feet meows with the abrupt change. Wymack extends his calloused hand. “Welcome to the Foxes, kid,” he says. Neil shakes it, offering his best arrogant smile. “You’re welcome,” he retorts. Wymack’s frown returns with force, and Neil feels like widening his smile. Wymack releases his hand and gestures to the tall man in a student uniform, standing in the half-open doorway. “Matt will show you around the school and the dorms.” Neil heads towards the man who possesses a giant smile and leaves the room.
The wooden door closes with a muffled thud behind them. Neil takes a deep breath, forcing his muscles to relax; he hadn't noticed how nervous he was. Matt wastes no time. “Hey, man? You’re Neil, right? I’m Matt,” he says with a smile so big it would look out of place on anyone else, but it strangely suited Matt, like a happy, very, very happy cartoon character. “Nice to meet you, Neil,” he says, extending his hand. Neil returns it with forced enthusiasm; he was already tired of interactions for today.
Matt hands him a large green folder. “Here are your schedules and overdue content. Your books are already in the dorm, as are your belongings.” He continued, listing the rules: “The dorm closes at ten at night, and everyone wakes up at five thirty in the morning sharp, every day. You officially start tomorrow, but Wymack said that, if you want, you can already participate in practical training today.” Matt smiled once more. Neil nodded to indicate he understood. “I believe you already know all the rules, but if you have any questions, you can come to me and ask.”
After that, Matt started rambling about classes, friends, haunted places, and how Neil should try the Wednesday sandwich. Neil immediately stopped paying attention to his colleague’s voice, focusing on observing his new home for the next five years: Corvin War Institute. The castle, an imposing Gothic fortress transformed into a military academy, swallowed him. The old carpet muffled their footsteps as they walked through the enormous corridors towards the classrooms. Many windows with heavy curtains stretched through the corridors, the morning light entering through the cracks. Old chandeliers adorned the wall, but their light was electric. Neil noticed there were no other exits. He looked irritably out the window: it would easily be a five-meter drop into the bushes.
They passed in front of the classrooms. As Matt pointed to each of them, describing his classes, he said: “In your first year, you’ll barely leave the theory room,” indicating the first room in the next corridor. “If you survive, next year we might have some classes together,” he added, cheerfully, patting Neil’s shoulder. Neil tensed at the contact. Matt seemed to notice and slowly withdrew his hand.
Matt was about to say something else when the shrill bell vibrated through the walls. Uniformed students rushed out of their rooms, filling the corridors; it was the first break of the day. Neil received some glances, but none focused on him for long, and he felt a momentary relief from the lack of attention. Matt quickly regained his humor. “I’m going to introduce you to everyone!”
Matt’s “everyone” summed up to a group of four people. They found them in the castle’s central courtyard, sitting on a long bench near a statue of a soldier on his horse, whose identity Neil didn’t bother to memorize. Matt introduced each of them.
Dan, Matt’s girlfriend, was a girl a little taller than Neil (not that his height served as a comparison), with short hair; Neil knew she would finish him off in seconds in a hand-to-hand fight. Renee was beside her, with short blonde hair brushing her shoulder. Neil didn’t like the way she looked at him, nor her gentle smile; no one should be so gentle. He narrowed his eyes at her. Further to the right, was Allison, who looked like she was at a fashion show, not a military school. Her uniform was different in some way Neil couldn’t comprehend, her blonde hair tied in a bun behind her head. And finally, Seth, who held Allison’s waist tightly, looking at Neil as if he were a plague.
Dan gives him a firm handshake. “Welcome, Neil. Wymack didn’t tell us much about you, just that you’d be the new member of our echelon and platoon.” The insignia on the side of her uniform indicated she was a Captain, and the insignia on everyone’s uniform indicated they were from the same platoon. “I’m sure you’ll fit in with us somehow. So, Neil, we were all a little curious about you, why did you join in the middle of the semester?” she says with narrowed eyes and a smile at him.
The Foxes squad was led by General Wymack, a former military man who left his mark on the academy. They were the echelon with the highest number of scholarship students, welcoming "lost causes". Dan was one of these scholarship students; she became known for having the highest grades in the history of the approval tests and today held some of the school's records.
Matt smiles nervously. “If you want to tell us, of course…”
“There’s a lot of money in that answer. You can open your mouth, kitten,” Allison says, looking like she’s going to eat him alive.
Seth chokes on her words. “You think this shorty is hot, seriously, Allison?”
“Anyone with eyes can see he’s hot, Seth.” Allison gives a smile that Neil finds frightening.
Neil was happy with the question diversion, though he didn’t know how he felt about the comments. His confusion must have shown on his expression, as Renee took over the conversation in a light tone. “Don’t worry, Neil, we’re just curious.”
Neil shrugged, forcing indifference. “Family problems,” he replied. He gave a smile, the way he knew pulled one of the scars on his cheek.
Dan looked guilty about the initial question, but Seth couldn’t hold back. “We didn’t see you in the approval exams,” he contested. Neil’s expression hardened.
“I was invited last year,” Neil retorted. He wasn’t going to comment that he had already been through enough exams for all of them, the first time he passed he was ten. The scar extending on his arm was the biggest proof of this feat, and the fact that the test wasn’t televised didn’t take away his right to be there. But Neil would let them think what they wanted.
“Invitation?” The confusion was evident, as was his irritation. “What kind of powerful shit-heads are your parents for you to be invited to study here?”
Renee seems intrigued by his answer, cracking her happy facade. Allison looks into his eyes. “An invitation? You were invited to study here?” She bursts out laughing. “Unbelievable,” she seems genuinely entertained. “I bet twenty bucks Riko will freak out when he finds out.”
Neil knew Riko very well. Riko was born into the powerful military family Moriyama; his brother, Ichirou, had made history at the school. Riko was known for being the best in his year in the approval exams. Out of about fifty thousand candidates, only a thousand made it to the finals, and only ninety entered the Academy. Riko was the best of his year, almost breaking his brother’s records, but always staying one step behind. In the same year, Kevin Day, Riko’s adopted “brother,” came in second place, almost tying in the tests.
The approval exams were famous in his social circle; teenagers were addicted to watching them. From what Neil had researched in the past few days, both Riko and Kevin and some other Ravens were on an exchange program, teaching future recruits what was necessary to pass the exams to study at Corvin. Neil was happy not to have to see them for a few more weeks.
But Neil didn’t want to talk about Riko, so he changed the subject, questioning: “I thought money wasn’t allowed here.”
Allison gives a biting smile. “Are you going to rat us out?”
Neil gave no further details. “Just curious,” he said, dismissing the threat. Allison seemed to want to say something more when Neil felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck. He ran his hand over his neck at the same time he saw a stone fall to the ground beside his feet. He looked back. “Fucking monsters!” Allison growled.
Neil saw a group of four people a few meters away, but the distance reduced them to blurred figures. He could never see well from afar, a detail no one needed to know.
“Neil, are you okay?” Matt asked, concern taking over his tone. Neil continued staring at the figures that seemed to be approaching. He narrowed his eyes.
“Neil! You’re bleeding!” Neil turned to Dan and put his hand on his neck. It came back damp on his fingers; the idiot threw the stone hard. “Andrew, you son of a bitch!” Dan exclaimed again. Neil froze at the name. He looked in the direction of the figures again, which were no longer blurred—now it was clearly Andrew Miniard a meter away. Neil had no time to grasp any emotion from the man before Andrew punched him in the nose.-----Neil looked at the clock above his head, watching the second hand approach the number twelve. It was ten twenty-three in the morning, and fourteen minutes and fifty-four seconds had passed since Neil ignored the short, blond figure beside him. The cloth on his nose was soaked. It had been a while since his nose stopped bleeding, but Neil still used the cloth as an excuse to keep his head up and ignore the presence beside him.
In his mind, Neil replayed what had led him to be back in the General’s office in less than an hour, on his first day of class, in a giant castle of which he only knew one percent — without even having seen his room yet.
The fault was clearly Andrew Joseph, damn it, Miniard’s. It wasn’t really a surprise to find Andrew there; he was a big highlight in his year and almost refused the spot at the school. Neil hadn’t missed a single second of his test. Andrew was incredible at everything. Including being an idiot. Neil’s nose hurt when he scrunched it in irritation.
Andrew opened and closed a lighter at the same pace as the clock. Neil added this to the list of Miniard’s useless skills: he was incredible at being annoying. Not that Neil hadn’t known that for years, but it seemed necessary to reaffirm it.
The door opened. Neil lowered his head in time to see General Wymack enter the room, his grimace deepening as he looked at the two of them. Instead of irritated, he looked terribly exhausted. He sighed, sat down in the chair in front of Neil and Andrew. “Why am I not surprised to see you here again so soon?” he said, looking directly at Neil. “So… is anyone going to explain what happened?”
When neither Neil nor Andrew moved to answer, Wymack sighed again and placed a letterhead paper on the table. “Here is General Moriyama’s report,” he announced. Wymack paused briefly, as if expecting confirmation. As neither of them did, he began to read the document with an almost robotic coldness:
“CONDUCT AND SAFETY REPORT. Protocol 7-A. Mr. Miniard (2nd Year Student, Level 1, Foxes Echelon) was observed throwing a solid object at Mr. Josten (1st Year Student, Level 1). Immediately, Mr. Miniard delivered a physical attack to the face of the latter. The disorder was contained and interrupted by General Moriyama, using the actions he deemed necessary, he accompanied the cadets for due warnings and disciplinary retention.”
Neil shivered. He didn’t even need the report to remember the scene: Moriyama’s lingering gaze on him, the sharp pain of a cane hitting his leg. The General hadn’t broken up the fight; he had ended it with an immediate and brutal punishment execution.
Wymack paused again, rubbing the wrinkles on his brow as if he were talking to petulant children. He turned to Andrew. “Why did you start the fight, Mr. Miniard?”
“He’s an idiot,” Andrew replied after a full minute of silence.
Neil ignored how the boy’s voice sounded different from the boy he knew years ago and flinched at the comment. “I’m an idiot?!” Neil wanted to laugh. Instead, he looked for the first time at the man beside him, cataloging every small change: the freckles dotted on his nose had doubled, spreading across his cheek; the stubble; the small scar above his eyebrow that wasn’t there before. Neil stared into his eyes—they seemed emptier than ever. All his features were older, but it was still undeniably Andrew. As he watched, he felt the man doing the same. Neil’s anger swelled as he felt the familiar pain in his chest he felt when Andrew was around.
“Yes,” Andrew replied, looking into his eyes.
Neil couldn’t help but stick out his tongue at him like a child, and Andrew’s grimace deepened. Neil was ready to give a sharp retort when Wymack gave an interrupting cough. Neil turned his eyes back to the General.
“If neither of you is contesting,” Wymack said, his patience thin. “Let’s just get this over with.”
He opened a drawer and threw a large stack of paper in front of Neil. “Both of you will be punished,” he announced.
Neil flinched. “I didn’t do anything!”
Wymack barely looked at him as he continued: “According to regulations, both students involved must be punished. And I, as your General, will decide the appropriate punishments.” Neil sank into the chair, more irritated than ever. Of course, the idiot would ruin his first day before it even began.
“Both of you will have two hours of detention at the end of the day, where you will have to recite and memorize all the rules that I believe you have already read. You will recite them all to me in a month.” He continued, his voice growing colder: “Second, you will serve as kitchen assistants for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the rest of the semester.”
The General picked up the stack of papers. “The kitchen schedules are included with the Academy rules. Don’t be late. And I don’t care if you miss classes or training to fulfill kitchen duties; you will have to find a way to ensure this does not hinder your learning or your grades.”
Things couldn’t be worse. Neil didn’t care about classes, but he didn’t want to miss a single minute of training. Thanks to the idiot, he had no options. Andrew would pay.
He breathed and stared at them both, challenging them to complain. Neil was very tempted to contest every comma, but he knew it would only make his situation worse. Wymack continued, turning to Andrew: “Andrew, you’ve lost the privilege of the single room. You’re moving from floor four down to three, room 103.”
Andrew didn’t look happy at all. Neil was trying to understand where the catch was.
“You’ll be sharing a room with... Neil.”
“Shit,” Neil whispered.