Chapter 79: An Architect, The last of the students shuffled out, leaving the auditorium blessedly silent. My job was done for the day—or so I thought. I leaned against the lectern, savoring the moment like a man who'd dodged a bullet. Teaching at the Military University of Londonium (MUL) wasn't exactly easy, but it was… entertaining. Watching massive Seeker soldiers—warriors built like battering rams—debate the finer points of military architecture with terrifying earnestness was a unique experience. And let's not forget the theatre troupe.
If you've never seen a bunch of hulking, scar-faced soldiers perform Romeo and Juliet, you haven't lived. Picture Juliet as a eight-foot-eleven brick wall of a man with an eight-pack, cradling a dying Romeo in his massive arms while whispering, "Parting is such sweet sorrow." I swear, the sobbing in the audience wasn't from the emotional weight of Shakespeare's words but from the sheer absurdity of it all. You try not laughing when Juliet could bench-press Romeo mid-monologue.
But despite their lethal combat skills, these guys weren't all brawn. MUL students studied everything from advanced physics and microbiology to etiquette and theatre. Eden's military wasn't just a killing machine; it was a well-read, cultured, and very dangerous killing machine.
One day, though, I hoped to make the leap to the University of Eden—the crème de la crème of academia. The smartest minds in the empire gathered there, solving the universe's mysteries between coffee breaks. Teaching at MUL was great, but if I wanted real prestige (and a fatter paycheck), Eden was the endgame.
Just as I was mentally calculating how much I could charge for private tutoring, the door creaked open. In walked Jason Major, Dean of MUL. Now, Jason Major wasn't your average academic. He was a Brigadier General, a Seeker soldier, and a walking slab of intimidation. Rumor had it the only reason he was stuck behind a desk was that the military deemed him too valuable to be blown up in a battlefield trench. Apparently, Jason hated this assignment and made no effort to hide it. His expression said, "I'd rather be shot at than attend another faculty meeting."
"You. With me. Now," Jason said, in his usual conversational style.
I knew better than to argue. I grabbed my notes, stuffed them into my bag, and followed him like a man who'd just been voluntold into a mission. Jason's stride was brisk, his demeanor that of a man who considered small talk a crime. We boarded a waiting military helicopter, the rotors already thrumming like an impatient drum solo.
The moment we were airborne, Jason handed me a pair of noise-canceling headphones. "Listen carefully," he said, his voice low and serious. "What I'm about to tell you is classified at the highest level. If you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll personally see to it that you're charged with high treason against the empire and the Supreme Leader, Mark Lantrun."
Ah, yes. Nothing like a lighthearted chat about treason to spice up a Tuesday afternoon. I gave him a tight-lipped nod. "Understood. What's the mission?"
Jason tapped a tablet, bringing up a video. "The Dothraki."
I raised an eyebrow. "We've handled them before. What's changed?"
Without a word, he pressed play. The footage was worse than I expected. It showed a squad of Seeker soldiers—the deadliest warriors in the world—getting absolutely demolished by something... unnatural. These weren't your average horse-riding nomads. They were hulking, mutated monsters, like someone had crossbred a linebacker with a horror movie villain. Limbs too long, muscles too big, teeth too sharp—they tore through the soldiers like kids ripping apart wrapping paper.
Jason's jaw tightened. "The Dothraki have figured out how to enhance their warriors. Mutations, genetic engineering—something stolen or borrowed. And it's working."
I stared at the screen, the grotesque creatures moving with terrifying speed and precision. "What's the plan?"
Jason leaned back in his seat. "We're building a defensive line. A big one. It'll stretch from Lhazar to the coast, an unbreakable wall to contain them until we can figure out how to neutralize the threat."
"Ah." I nodded slowly. "You want me to help design it."
Jason nodded. "We need someone who understands both the practical side of architecture and the military's operational needs. The University of Eden has the brightest minds, but most of them have never had to build something that might get smashed to pieces by a 10-foot mutant with anger issues."
Fair point. University theorists were brilliant, but they weren't exactly known for hands-on experience. Most of them probably hadn't built anything more dangerous than a house of cards.
"And," Jason added, "we need someone who knows how to keep a secret."
That was fair too. The military wasn't keen on people blabbing classified projects over tea and biscuits. I gave him a slow smile. "Alright, I'll help. But I have a condition."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
"I want a pay raise," I said, folding my arms. "And a recommendation letter to the University of Eden."
Jason let out the closest thing to a laugh I'd ever heard from him—more of a dry huff, really. "You drive a hard bargain."
"Hey," I said with a grin, "you get what you pay for."
He gave a grudging nod. "Fine. You'll get your raise and your letter. But only if the line holds."
"Deal," I said, already calculating how much I could milk this project for. If they wanted a wall that could stop a mutant horde, they were going to pay through the nose for it.
As the helicopter soared through the evening sky, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of excitement. Teaching was all well and good, but this was the kind of challenge that made an architect's heart sing.
All I had to do was design a wall that could withstand an army of mutant monsters. And if it worked, I'd finally get my dream job at the University of Eden.
No pressure.