An exhausted Mahon entered the school with Zac just as a new day was dawning over the horizon. They had spent hours with Tulluin and the city guards, repeating what had happened while dealing with the noble’s body. They hadn’t heard any news about Travaran’s condition, but at that time they only cared about a good sleep. Except it was not what Jorik had planned as a First White came to them as they passed near Jorik’s residence.

“You must report to Jorik immediately.”

Mahon held back a sigh as he dragged his feet towards the impressive building. Zac even yawned as he followed his friend. The night had been rough to them, both mentally and physically, and adrenaline had deserted their organism long ago. They were led directly to Jorik’s office and the First White politely knocked at the door.

“Come in.” Jorik’s impatient voice answered.

The First White opened the door and gestured for them to go inside. The door closed behind them with a soft thud as they observed their surroundings. Jorik’s office was relatively plain and the furniture only consisted of a desk and an impressive table, both crumbling under mounds of documents and maps.

The noble itself was sitting behind his desk. A pen in hand he was scribing with vigor something that seemed important because he didn’t stop as they approached him. On the opposite side of the desk, Travaran was sitting on a simple wooden stool and he grimaced when he saw them, hatred exuding from his every pore. After a few seconds, Jorik raised his head and looked at them.

“You’re definitely trying to make my work harder. I hope you’ve got a good explanation for what happened.”

“They killed Tiarsus! They abandoned him alone to be killed by cultists, I swea…”

“He was already dead! We fucking saved your life, you idiot!” Zac blew up.

“Shut up. All of you.” Jorik snapped with a contemptuous glance at the trio.

He sighed and raised his hand to massage his temples.

“Since you’ve all decided to be such a pain in the ass, I’ll have to be smarter than that. Both of you, out.” He gestured to Travaran and Mahon. “Zac, you stay. I want to hear your version first. Oh, and Travaran you might as well go home, I’ve already listened to your point of view.”

With a last hateful gaze at the duo, Travaran left, and Mahon went back outside to wait. He could hear muffled voices coming from Jorik’s office, but couldn’t make any sense out of it. He trusted Zac and knew he would tell the truth, but he couldn’t stop himself from being anxious.

The crux of the problem was that Zac hadn’t observed Tiarsus’ condition by himself. If Jorik wanted to dig into the subject, it would be Mahon’s words against Travaran’s. Besides, a noble’s death was a good enough reason for Rym to expel him out of school, even if it was not proven it was his fault. The woman was just waiting for a small misstep to leap on him unbridled.

She had ignored Mahon since that time she tried to bribe him out of school, but Mahon knew the professor was observing his every move from the shadows, ready to pounce on him on the first occasion. And now he had given her one.

Is it already over? Did Tiarsus’s death succeed where he had failed alive?

Mahon spent half an hour with his troubled thoughts, dwelling in the past night, searching for a way to prove his innocence, to find a way out of this mess. Only when the door opened and Zac exited did it free Mahon from his anxiety and doubt. He looked at his friend with hope, but Zac shook his head.

“I can’t talk to you before you’ve told your version.”

Then he smiled and nodded just so slightly as if to indicate it would be alright. Mahon took a deep breath and entered Jorik’s office for the second time.

“Describe Tiarsus’s conditions.” Jorik didn’t waste a single second and jumped right to the point.

“I got a brief look, but he got stabbed at least three times in the thorax. Here, here and here.” Mahon pointed to his own body. “The cuts were deep, and it was abundantly bleeding. He also got pierced just over the shoulder, here. Fatal wound.”

“Did you check its pulse?”

“No need. His eyes were already gone. We were in a rush and I know what a dead body looks like.”

Jorik observed him for a few seconds before pursuing.

“How many cultists were there?”

“At the time only one was in sight.”

“Why did you retreat then?”

“Tiarsus was dead. Travaran was in no condition to fight and could barely see anything. We were lost in dark alleys and Tiarsus had yelled insults to Fada and cultists all the way there. Even if we didn’t see them, the place was probably swarming with cultists. The situation needed an immediate reaction, and I valued our life and Travaran’s one over a noble’s body and a prisoner.”

Jorik nodded at Mahon’s analysis before writing something on the paper in front of him.

“Did you serve in the army before?”

Mahon was taken aback by the question.

“What does it have to do with the situation?”

Jorik stopped writing and focused on Mahon for long seconds. The Last Red Nightmare commander met his gaze without a care and a staring contest started. Both men didn’t look away and their eyes were steady and calm, full of determination. The electricity in Jorik’s glacial blue eyes was somehow kept at bay by the intensity of the sapphire and emerald from Mahon’s odd eyes.

“As an officer it’s my duty to know my men.” Jorik said without looking away. “So far, the only thing official about you is your mediocre scores in both physical and strategic tests. And that you’re a commoner. You’re worth a shit’s horse and I would never trust my back to you.”

Jorik took a short break before continuing.

“And yet Zac speaks highly of you and it now has been the second time you met cultists and the second time you took control of the operation successfully. I know Rym bribed you to leave the school, but you refused. I also know that Yordar, a renowned Last Blue, likes you and agreed to teach you private lessons.”

Mahon didn’t show anything, but deep inside he was impressed at Jorik’s level of information and the turn the discussion had taken.

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“You’re a mysterious man, Mahon, but I don’t care. I don’t give a shit about your goals, secret plans or objectives. I just want results. And with regard to these things, I admit I might have underestimated you. You seemed like an interesting bet. But I’m no man to bet and I need to know more. So you’ve got two choices.”

Jorik showed two fingers and continued.

“Either you stay silent and even if I tend to believe Zac, it will be your version against Travaran’s one. Rym will pounce on you in an instant and you’ll be expelled before you know it. And I’d be completely fine with it.”

As he said so, Mahon felt Jorik was telling the truth. He wouldn’t care a single second about the strange commoner’s fate.

“Or you answer some questions and the balance may tilt to your side. If you really belong here, learn from a Last Blue and have military experience, then you’re an asset to me. I will not ask anything else but what is expected here, at school. And I’ll do anything to protect a promising soldier. So, I’ll ask again. Did you serve in the army?”

Mahon grimaced as he felt cornered. Jorik had spoken in simple terms and perfectly resumed Mahon’s situation. He was at the mercy of Jorik’s decision. Could he trust him? Was it worth a restart in another school? Mahon decided to try his luck and answered.

“Yes.”

“Nightmare soldier?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Years.”

Jorik acquiesced and dropped his steady gaze as he eyed his notes.

“How long until you’re back to a decent level?”

“Hard to tell. Probably a month or two.”

Again Jorik seemed to be lost in thoughts as he only spoke a few seconds later.

“Good. Thanks for sharing. I’ll repeat myself but I care only about results. If you do well under my command, you have nothing to worry about. That’s all for now, you can go.”

“And about Tiarsus?”

“The man was a fucking idiot. It was only a matter of time before something like that happened to him. You will not be blamed for this. I will make sure Rym doesn't bother you anymore either.”

Mahon acquiesced. He didn’t know yet what to think of this. It felt he had traded a jail for another. Jorik seemed as unpredictable as Rym, and even if he was upfront about his objectives, was he telling the truth? Mahon was about to open the door when the noble spoke again.

“On the other hand, Travaran is like his master, and I’m not responsible for his own stupidity. It’s your own problem to deal with.”

Mahon nodded and walked outside. Zac was still waiting for him and together they walked back to their house. On the way, Mahon explained what Jorik had said and Zac shared his own story.

They agreed that Jorik had changed a lot from when he was only a First Red. He took his position seriously and the previous indifference he had shown them was now subdued. As the man said, he sought results above all and although he disregarded his men’s ambition and goals, he was interested in their ability and teamwork. He had to, as an officer.

All in all, Jorik was still the same, but his new position forced him to care about his soldiers. Mahon knew these types of officers. They were hardworking and never showed a sign of compassion, but they were highly efficient. It was quite fitting with Mahon’s impression of Jorik from their time as First Red.

Mahon also explained how his situation with Rym might evolve, given Jorik’s words, but the two friends were too tired to discuss it any longer. They reached the house and headed to the dormitory. Strangely, no other noble could be found in the house, neither in the living room nor in the dormitory. The day was just starting and they would have to go to Slander’s training soon, but usually the nobles were still sleeping inside at that time.

Even Travaran was nowhere in sight. Too sleepy to care, Mahon and Zac went to bed. Jorik had allowed them to skip the morning training to rest, and they planned to enjoy it to the last second. Mahon barely had time to watch Zac fall asleep before he closed his own eyes and joined him in Nightmare.

He arrived first and his friend joined him a few seconds later. Given the tardive hour to go into Nightmare, they should have been no one around. Alas, the place was crowded. A group of unknown men circled the spawning point and since Mahon and Zac had just appeared in Nightmare, they found themselves surrounded by thirty strangers or so.

Not good.

Mahon went into alert mode, but before he had the time to warn Zac, the trap closed on them.

“Zac?” Someone asked.

“Yeah?” Zac answered instinctively.

The man who had just spoken cackled.

“Told you it was them. Two people spawning there when the day starts? It can only be them.”

“Good, good.” The man to the left of the first one spoke. “We should introduce ourselves then.”

At that point Zac realized their situation and moved closer to Mahon.

“I’m Travaran.”

Mahon didn’t react, but Zac was taken aback.

“Travaran? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? Seriously, Zac? You just killed Tiarsus! He was my friend and a noble from a great family! You think your crime will be left unpunished?”

“Come on! He was too drunk to even stand. He killed himself!” Zac retorted without conviction.

“Don’t you dare defame his memory!”

Travaran took a step towards them and a group of four men and three women followed after him, likely the rest of the First Red. Travaran approached step by step, relishing his victory.

“You thought you could just walk away like that? You were proud of your petty schemes? I might not be able to do anything to you at school, but I’m more than capable of dealing with you in Nightmare. Let me tell you what will happen. We will torture you and kill you there and no one will know. With your memory gone, you will be expelled from the school and you’ll be at the mercy of anyone in Ratho. We will find you and torture you again until you beg us to execute you.”

Travaran was parading while he spoke louder and louder. Beside Mahon, Zac shuddered and took a step back. The Last Red Nightmare commander, however, didn’t show anything. Instead, he carefully observed the men surrounding them.

Who are they? Soldiers? Alone and against thirty of them, I might have a chance, but I can’t leave Zac to his fate.

“Aaahhh… I have waited so long for this moment.” Travaran was still pursuing his pompous speech. “I will savor any seconds of it. But I’ll give you a chance.” He gestured for the men circling them to make a path. “You can go ahead and run. I’ll give you twenty seconds before we hunt you. Hahaha...”

One of the First Red nobles at Travaran’s side started counting down and Zac glanced at Mahon, his pupils dilated by fear.

“Run away, I’ll deal with them.” Mahon whispered.

“I won’t leave you alone.”

“Listen, I need you away for this fight, Zac. You’d be in the way.” Mahon said more severely.

“15! You better start running, idiots!”

Mahon glared at Zac until the noble started to run away, his reluctance to leave his friend behind weighing his every step. In the meantime, Mahon stood in the middle of the circle, unconcerned.

“Hahaha, look! Zac sacrificed the commoner to gain some time! It’ll be even funnier!”

“10!”

Mahon stayed immobile and disregarded the nobles, focusing instead on the soldiers. Some of them seemed in their element. Mahon could see it from the way they stood, undulating effortlessly under Nightmare’s weird forces. Those men were Nightmare warriors, without a doubt.

“3!”

“2!”

“1!”

“Let’s go! Don’t think because you stayed there immobile, we will be lenient with you!”

Travaran stayed a bit behind while four nobles rushed towards Mahon. They were closing on him at full speed, but to Mahon they could have been two times faster and it wouldn’t have made a difference. They were slow. Inefficient. Harmless.

When they were only one step away from him, Mahon moved for the first time since he had appeared in Nightmare.