Lieutenant Marjovic - known as Spider to his closest comrades - was about to retire to his quarters for the night. Or that had been the plan.
It had been a long day. He had bid farewell to his friends Bunny and Sandman before they, now that the war was over, left the military.
He had already had to say goodbye to Ember and Cookoff earlier. He was already missing that cheeky boy a bit.
There hadn't been any grand ceremonies or celebrations - that was reserved for Major Maddox' regiment and the other troops. Spider's team didn't need them; they didn't even want them.
And it was excatly that Major Maddox who had summoned Marjovic to the briefing room at this late hour. So, Marjovic was now reluctantly on his way to meet him, dressed in a loosely fitting uniform, following his superior's orders.
The entire barracks was drunk. Except for a few unfortunate guards, everyone was celebrating the final victory over the rebels. The soldiers had earned it. He had also heard from other companies that their barracks currently resembled nightclubs more than military bases.
Marjovic was glad that this time had finally come.
He only wished things could have gone differently with the rebels. Ember had always hated them - but he didn't know how the world worked yet. Nothing was simply good or evil. Marjovic had tried to convey that to him. Whether he had succeeded would become clear in the coming years.
'At least he's at the Academy now. I wonder how he's doing.'
He decided that, if his duties allowed, he would drop by the Academy sometime.
Also...
'Is that a drunken soldier on a Spelltank over there?'
Oh well. Today was a day to celebrate. And probably the weeks after as well. The infernal war had lasted three years. In total, seven cities had been captured by the rebels during this time - four of which had been reduced to rubble and ashes by the war.
The city where the last rebel stronghold had been located was, after the battles of the spellcasters, little more than a disaster area.
With a grim expression, Marjovic entered the command post building, passing guards who saluted him, and approached the door of the briefing room. After knocking, a deep voice sounded from within.
"Come in."
Marjovic entered. Major Maddox was sitting at the long table of the briefing room. He still hadn't taken off his general's uniform since yesterday. Gray hair covered the head of the weathered major, but his gaze held the hardness of an old soldier.
Marjovic saluted.
"Major Maddox," he said.
But Maddox waved him off.
"Cut it out, Marjovic. Come, sit down," the man said curtly.
Marjovic closed the door and sat opposite Maddox. No one else was in the briefing room. Only then did Marjovic notice the two glasses and the bottle of whiskey on the table.
"You're drinking?" he asked. He hadn't seen his friend drink in three years - not since the war began.
Had he started again now?
Maddox glanced briefly at the bottle, then grumbled.
"Only when God shits in your shoes."
Then he filled both glasses and slid one over to Marjovic. He took the glass and looked at the reddish-brown liquid. Then he looked questioningly at Maddox.
"What are we drinking to?"
Maddox looked a bit pensive. Had his old friend simply invited him for a drink? He liked him, but he also valued his sleep.
"Let's say to the little rubble boy. Sergeant Aerav- no it's Professor Aerav now, right? She tells me he's doing well at the Imperial Academy - at least one of us is."
Marjovic laughed.
"True. We'll be here until we're ninety. To Croy."
They clinked glasses and took a big gulp. The whiskey burned on Marjovic's tongue, and he grimaced a bit before setting the glass down and wiping the droplets from his mustache.
"So, Maddox," he said, his voice curious but also serious, "you wouldn't invite me here just to celebrate. What's on your mind?"
Maddox grunted and ran his fingers along the rim of the glass.
"Do you remember why the rebellion started?"
Strange question. Of course he knew that. Still, he answered.
"The border towns were angry that the Emperor - long live the Emperor - had not provided them with sufficient means for reconstruction after the border war took a heavy toll on them."
Maddox remained silent and didn't even look at Marjovic. He continued.
"Additionally, the people had to endure strict regulations from the military for years. No going out after ten o'clock, house searches, and sometimes even families and friends were arrested because they were suspected of being spies."
Now Maddox nodded.
"But that was only the official reason. Behind it were actually just a group of cunning Spellcasters who were power-hungry and saw an opportunity to gather the general population and other dissatisfied Spellcasters under them. It was a pure shitshow — but one that cost tens of thousands of lives."
Marjovic finished but still Maddox said nothing. Then he stood up and walked over to a desk in the briefing room. He pulled a file out of a drawer and tossed it onto the table in front of Marjovic.
On the cover was written in large red letters: Security Level Alpha.
That was too high even for Marjovic. Only a major and a marshal were ever allowed to see these documents. Marjovic was only a lieutenant. He didn't touch the file, but his face darkened.
"Go ahead," Maddox said. "You want to know why I called you here? Because you're one of the few I can trust."
Marjovic shook his head.
"That would violate nearly all regulations."
Maddox snorted angrily, then pointed to the documents.
"You say the war was a shitshow. Fine, I completely agree with you. But you know what?"
Major Maddox looked deep into his old friend's eyes.
"It gets even worse. It wasn't just power-hungry bastards, and it's not over yet. Read the file. That's an order."
***
"So, let's go over this again," Inera said. "You walked up to her... and then?"
Croy regarded Inera with renewed interest. He had thought that the story of how Fredrik - however he managed it - had successfully asked Princess Lyn out on a date would especially amaze himself.
But the young aristocrat was almost leaning over the entire table to catch every word from Fredrik. Even the usually confident boy was a bit intimidated by her eagerness.
"What's gotten into you? I've already told you at least four times yesterday. I just walked up to her, introduced myself, and asked if Princess Lyn would go on a date with me. She looked at her sister for a few seconds, then they turned around and whispered to each other. When they turned back, Princess Lyn agreed to the rendezvous."
"After which you ended up frozen in shock," Croy added, taking a bite of his dinner.
"Exactly. But why do you want to hear it again, Inera? Jealous?" he smirked.
"Yes, damn it!" Inera swore, slamming the table so hard that the dishes clattered.
"Have you even looked at them before you tainted them with your presence? They are angels in the flesh!"
Inera leaned back, placed both hands on her cheeks, and wiggled her shoulders like a lovestruck maiden.
"That soft, pale skin, the silver hair that almost seems to shine, those sharp, cool features, and yet they have the sweetest eyes!"
Inera was gushing so much about the imperial twins that Croy momentarily wondered if they were even talking about the same people. Sure, he was captivated by the sisters' beauty, especially when they were together, but he also felt a certain reverence and respect for them.
After all, he wouldn't openly talk about them like that.
Unfortunately, he couldn't quite keep his own wild thoughts under control with Inera's musings.
"They're just so delicious!" Inera concluded her raving.
Croy and Fredrik looked at her. Fredrik raised an eyebrow.
"I thought your type was more like young Lord Jradan."
Croy grimaced at the mention of Jradan. He still hadn't gotten over yesterday's defeat.
Inera nodded.
"He's cute too. But I don't like him. He beat the crap out of Croy, so he's my enemy."
"That's not how it was! But thanks for being on my side," Croy said.
He turned back to Fredrik.
"Do you already know where and when the date will take place?"
He couldn't believe his friend had actually pulled it off. Somehow, he felt that Fredrik wasn't telling them the whole story. Him and the Imperial Princess? Really?
His friend shook his head.
"I have some ideas in mind, but I haven't decided yet. I'm supposed to let her know tomorrow after class."
One last time, Croy laughed at the absurdity of it all and then stood up. He had finished eating.
"See you tomorrow, guys."
They waved back.
Croy took his tray and placed it at the clearing station. Then he left the cafeteria. It was already evening, and a cool autumn wind had settled over the Academy grounds. The stars weren't visible yet, but it was already dark.
They had attended Professor Burton's lecture again today, and once more he hadn't understood anything. But he didn't plan to review the material like a diligent student. No, he wasn't even heading to his room to turn in early.
Instead, his Spellsword hung in a leather sheath at his belt. He was on his way to the gymnasium to practice handling his new Spellweapon, as he had resolved.
Yesterday's duel had clarified some things for him. He was by no means a bad fighter. The few spells he knew, he could use quickly and precisely. His barrier spell was also hard to surpass.
But he was a complete beginner when it came to using a proper Spellweapon. Sooner or later, he would find himself in a situation where he would really need it. And for that, he had to be prepared.
Whether this situation would occur here at the Academy or elsewhere, he didn't know, but he couldn't rely forever on the six spells in his arsenal.
Those six were Cat Eyes, Pathfinder, Discharge, Electirc Orb, Barrier, and of course his Mana Bullet.
He lacked any rune spells. In general, he lacked the necessary knowledge about rune spells. He would have to study and learn these as well to properly use the Spellweapon.
As well as learn new spells. Maybe even develop his own spell.
He grinned at the thought.
'I'm getting ahead of myself.'
One thing at a time.
Arriving at Gymnasium Number Seven, he scanned his identification card to gain access. The mysterious number in the middle still showed 163.
He entered. The lights of the gymnasium were on, and he wasn't alone on the training grounds. Gymnasium Number Seven was available to all first-year students at any time. There weren't many students still training at this hour, but a respectable number nonetheless.
No one paid special attention to Croy except for a few glances, filled either with a bit of respect or a lot of disgust. Unfortunately, the latter still prevailed.
It seemed his reputation hadn't improved much after the duel.
Ignoring the looks, he went to a free spot on the open training area. He took off his uniform jacket, leaving only the red-and-white cargo pants and the black T-shirt.
Then he drew his Spellsword. The first thing he would do now was to properly study what rune spells were actually on it.
He recognized three distinctive runes. One of them, he now knew, was a sharpness spell. This rune looked quite simple; one could still follow the symbols and lines.
The next rune was already a bit more complex. If Croy had to describe it, he would have said it resembled an ornament with a few random additions.
But even this rune was straightforward compared to the last one. Located almost at the tip of the one-hander, it appeared to Croy as nothing more than an engraved blotch of color with a few gaps in between.
He sighed. He wouldn't understand it so quickly. Tomorrow he would compare the patterns with known spells in the library... Wait, why should he go to the library?
He looked at his wrist.
'The Imperial Academy's smartwatch should have a function for this.'
He searched through the various programs until he found one that might meet his needs. It was a spell encyclopedia. He tapped it, and a long list appeared on the screen.
'Isn't there a photo function? Ah, there really is. Great.'
Three photos with the smartwatch were enough. After just a few moments, the smartwatch provided the results. Croy grinned and began to thoroughly read the information about the three rune spells.
The first rune was, as he knew, a sharpness spell. Activation required three regular pulses of mana with low amplitude, which had to be repeated every ten heartbeats as long as one wanted to keep the rune active.
All spells had similar activation conditions. However, the more complex the effect of a spell, the more difficult it became to activate if one didn't possess a high frequency.
Fortunately, Croy didn't have this problem.
The second rune was a so-called counter-spell spell.
A clever name, but fitting. A counter-spell was actually a sensor spell that allowed a skilled sensor to disrupt or even completely neutralize the mana of a manifested spell through destructive wave interference. Body spells, on the other hand, couldn't be deactivated because the mana was concentrated in the user's body.
Still, it was an extremely powerful spell that also required the mana sensitivity of a sensor. And this rune was, in that sense, a kind of lifeline. It allowed the user of the sword to unleash the same effect as a counter-spell.
However, only within the scope of the sword. While a sensor could dissolve fireballs mid air, the counter-spell rune allowed the same effect only when the sword - and thus the user's mana - was in direct contact with the spell.
A grin crept onto Croy's face. If he learned to use this spell, it would be an invaluable defensive weapon. And on top of that...
'I can cut fireballs with a sword!'
If that wasn't everyone's dream, what was?
He already thought the evening couldn't get any better when he read about the last rune.
His breath caught as he read the few words about the effect of the rune.
It read: Space-Time Spell.