They had just walked through a quad that looked more like a garden. A variety of plants and flowers filled the space, with empty stone benches scattered throughout. To their right, a small pond featured a fountain carved in the shape of the Vernajjian monarchy’s crest, standing proudly in the center. Something within the fountain caused soft trickling sounds that Roenan couldn’t quite see from his vantage point. It was unexpectedly peaceful. The chirping of birds and the crisp wind brushing his face made him appreciate the outdoors more than he cared to admit.

The university itself was more prestigious than Roenan had expected—extravagant, even. Constructed from grey stone, it was designed with wide arched windows on the lower level and open spaces that revealed glimpses of an outdoor hall. The upper floors had smaller, uniformly spaced square and rectangular windows. The campus seemed empty—every window was dark. The steps they climbed led under a massive arch, and as they passed through, they entered the very outdoor hall Roenan had glimpsed earlier. Somewhere above them, beyond the stone, stood the bell tower.

To the left and right, the hall stretched out, dust-speckled light filtering in through gaps in the walls.

Drakke didn’t hesitate—he continued forward toward a massive wooden door, clearly the university’s main entrance. He grasped one of its old, intricate knobs and swung it open.

Inside was a short, wide common room, rectangular in shape, with several wooden doors lining each long wall. A navy rug with swirling brown and tan designs ran through the center. Dark wooden armchairs and couches with deep blue cushions surrounded a matching coffee table. Matching benches were positioned along the walls between doorways. The room’s light came from black iron lanterns spaced along the walls, and from a golden shaft of sunlight slipping through an ornate arched window at the far end.

Drakke guided them in. Roenan noticed long hallways branching off, their walls lined with the same black lanterns. Saive didn’t appear nearly as impressed as Roenan felt. In fact, he looked bored. As they neared the closest door on the right, Drakke turned.

"Roenan, go ahead and take a seat. I’ll be right back," he said in a calmer voice, gesturing to the lounge area.

Then he looked at Saive. “You’re up,” he said shortly, nodding toward the door. Together, they approached it. Drakke knocked with a heavy brass knocker. A speaker crackled to life—unsurprisingly, the voice spoke in Vernajjian. When it fell silent, Drakke pressed a button beneath the speaker and replied. Roenan only caught when Drakke gave his name. A moment later, the lock clicked, and the door opened. Both of them stepped into the room, and then Drakke closed the door behind them.

Roenan’s instincts flared. There was the prisoner-of-war part of himself that jumped to life once the door had shut. He imagined bolting through the front door, running as far and fast as he could from this place. 

But he stayed put. 

He reflected on what he’d seen as they walked. They were in a camp of some sort. Through the trees he had glimpsed fences that were tall, metal, and topped with jagged wiring. They looked dangerous and likely electrified. At one point he even glanced a touret and saw soldiers moving around inside, meaning those tourets had to be live and ready.

He assumed this wasn’t a place meant to keep its own soldiers in—but it was well protected. After all, it was a military school that housed prisoners. It had to be hard for outsiders to get in—and even harder for prisoners to get out.

Roenan sighed and slumped into an armchair, dragging a hand down his face before covering his eyes. He was still worn out from the earlier exchange. He remained like that, silently annoyed at how comfortable the chair was, for a long moment.

He heard the door open and close and he glanced around the tall back of the armchair to see Drakke walking toward him, pinching the bridge of his nose. He stood in front of the other armchair to Roenan's right and threw himself down, pressing his head against the back with his eyes closed.

“I’m sorry about how I reacted back there. And the way I spoke to you,” he murmured. “But, I’m fucked.”

Roenan opened his mouth, then shut it again. He didn’t know what to say.

“Are you in trouble?” he asked after a pause.

“Not yet. They want to see me after they’re done with you.”

Roenan was quiet.

After a while, Drakke spoke again. “They’re going to start with the psychological evaluations. Then the physical training. And I’m pretty sure they’ll hammer Vernajjian into your vocabulary after that.” He cracked an eye open. “You’ll probably pick up some of it by then.”

Roenan gave a slow nod. “Did you just find out now?”

“No, I’m… recalling,” Drakke said, his voice trailing off.

Roenan frowned slightly. “Recalling?”

Drakke turned, resting his temple against the back of the chair so he could look Roenan. His eyes shone brighly against the shadow casting on his face.

“Our experiences won’t be the same. I can’t know exactly what they have planned for you—not as someone who hasn’t been on your side of it. We grew up in this kind of military structure. Boot camp was always something we expected. For you, and others like you…” His voice faded.

Roenan swallowed. “Drakke?”

“Yeah?” Drakke didn’t move, his bright eyes unreadable.

“There’s more to you than you’ve let on, isn’t there?” Roenan noticed the breath Drakke held.

“You’re not just some military student who got stuck on guard duty watching over two ailing Jaedans.”

Drakke didn’t reply, but Roenan watched his caramel eyes shift slightly, as if assessing.

Between their chairs sat a dark wooden stand with two elaborate gold coasters. Drakke looked down.

“Well, in that case…” He mimed lifting an invisible glass from a coaster and raised it in a mock toast before pretending to throw it back.

Roenan stared at him, unimpressed. “That doesn’t count. There was no alcohol in that.”

“Sure there was. Didn’t you see it?” Drakke shot back, looking shocked at such a false accusation.

Roenan rolled his eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out.”

Drakke raised his brows and chuckled at the challenge Roenan had given himself.

They held each other’s gaze, quietly.

“Oh!” Drakke suddenly sat up straight, patting his pockets. His suit was streaked with mud and a small pink scratch was on his cheek from the earlier scuffle. He frowned when his search came up empty. He looked to Roenan. “Mind giving that back?”

“Oh, right, sorry. I almost forgot.” Roenan stood and slipped out of the coat. He plucked at a muddy sleeve. “And sorry about the, uh…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Drakke said flatly, taking the coat and flipping it around as he searched the pockets. When he finally found what he was looking for, he made a small pleased sound and dropped the coat to the floor. He turned to face Roenan. “Open your hand.”

Roenan eyed him warily, then extended his palm. Drakke grabbed the bottom of his hand and placed something into his palm, closing his fingers around it before he could see it.

“Don’t look until right before you leave the office. Try to be discreet.”

Roenan held his gaze a moment, then slid his hand into the pocket of his sweat pants and brought it out to show him that his palm was empty.

Drakke gave a quick, satisfied smile, but it faded into something more thoughtful. “That was given to me by—” He stopped as the speaker crackled to life, listening to it intently until the speaking stopped.

“Do you have your bag?” Drakke asked.

Roenan reached to the side of his chair and picked it up by the strap.

Drakke took a deep breath in, the exhale that followed rattled slightly. Roenan couldn’t tell if those nerves were for himself, for Roenan, or for both. But his own stomach was twisting now.

“You’re up,” Drakke breathed.

Roenan tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. He nodded.

They walked slowly to the door, side by side. Once there, Drakke turned to him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“All you have to do is follow the orders,” he said quietly, squeezing Roenan’s shoulder in that now-familiar way. “And work your hardest.”

“I will,” Roenan said quietly.

“And remember the meeting place,” Drakke added, lowering his hand.

Roenan swallowed and nodded, thinking about the piece of paper he'd flushed at the hospital. Drakke never broke eye contact with him as he reached to press the button, speaking in Vernajjian. Roenan searched his eyes back, realizing he didn’t know when he’d see someone he was familiar with again. 

The lock clicked.

Drakke broke their gaze to open the door. He gave Roenan one short nod. Roenan nodded back, met his eyes one last time, and gave a weak smile before stepping through.

Drakke didn’t smile back. 

But he didn’t look away.

As he heard the door shut behind him, he glanced over his shoulder to check if Drakke had followed him in.

The one small flicker of hope that he had held onto faded, when he realized he hadn't.