Dear Diary,

Okay, so after he cut my pestering questions short yesterday, the Marshall gave me one bit of sort of good news. I won't be testing my new batch of Cadets. That's apparently done during the three days before 'End of Season'; the Solstice or Equinox, depending on which Season it is. So instead I get to start in directly on stretching, calisthenics, and Squadball. I'm not thrilled by that last, because my last memorable experience with Squadball was when Bill attempted to catch two of them with his ears simultaneously, with fatal results. Still, I'll make sure everybody knows the rules.

So my lesson plan, such as it is, was to show up for breakfast at the Academy, totally rip off Marshall duBois' trick of beating everybody to the center of the Practice Field, give them the 'I'm Diaz, you're not, do what I tell you', then have them stretch so they don't wind up pulling something when I have them do calisthenics. Like, everything I can remember both from duBois PT, ROTC PT, and Phys Ed class. Then maybe an hour before noon I'll start them running. Do the same trick after lunch, then have them sprint a bit more, then have them play some Squadball.

I really hope nobody dies. That would suck.

Stopped in the Infirmary after finishing up with the Marshall yesterday and waited for Siobhan to get done with her stuff for the day. What with her having two assistants now, not to mention a full time scribe to handle record keeping, she gave in to my puppy dog eyes pretty quick once the last of the Cadets left to get dinner. I scooped her up and stepped her right back to our dining room, only to find Saffron with a lap full of Marie.

"Uh... wanna trade?"

"No," she said, lifting a spoonful of stew into a bemused Marie's mouth. "I'm fine."

I shrugged, sat down, and started feeding Siobhan. Before I could get a proper spoonful of stew into her, she asked, "so, what did you learn from Marshall duBois?"

I shook my head. "I'm honestly not sure. I think mostly he just gave me my curriculum. Like, what I'm supposed to teach, at least for tomorrow."

And that is? She thought as she savored the stew.

"Stretching, calisthenics, some Endurance training, and Squadball." She made a face. "Yeah, not my favorite either, but duBois uses it to teach squad level tactics, so I at least need to teach them the rules tomorrow."

Saffron chimed in with, "what about that game with the baskets?"

I thought about it. "Definitely helpful on the teamwork thing. Probably at least as physically demanding. I'll see about starting that next week. Not like anybody's likely to forget the rules for Squadball once I teach them, right?" By that point the sheer size difference between Saffron and Marie had wound up with at least two spoonsful of stew going down Marie's front. "You sure you don't want to trade?"

She got a booger look, then set her spoon down. "Certainly. Marie? Go feed Siobhan."

So I wound up getting pampered a little by my tiny tyrant. Oh, noes. She even fed me at least two bites of pie when it arrived. Miracles really happen!

Of course, Marie wound up needing a shower after having soup dumped down her front several times, which meant it didn't take much to entice her into the Bath. When Tallulah showed, she spoke briefly with our terrible trio of Ria, Maze, and Isnomi, then floated over Saffron. A few minutes later, the two of them drifted over to us.

"Are you aware of our daughters' intent to stay at the Overlord's Keep for an evening?"

I opened one eye and looked over at Saffron before replying. "Yeah. Sleepover. Seemed like an okay idea?"

Saffron sighed. "The Keep isn't exactly a nurturing environment."

"Yeah, but they're not gonna go wandering. Just spend the night in Ria's rooms. That was the intent, right?"

Tallulah cut in with a wry, "that may have been the original intent, but Isnomi wants to check in with her 'There things'. The Steeds, from what I understand?"

"Oof. Yeah, that tracks, though. Is it just the three of them?"

She shook her head. "David wishes to see Ria's room, as does Daya. Alex doesn't want to be left behind, and I think Lindsey may object to being the only one remaining at your Homestead."

"Yeah, you might be wrong about that, but better plan for her to go along and have her stay here than the reverse. Damn. I'd really hoped you could host our little ones for an evening."

Tallulah shrugged. "I don't object, but I'm not sure I could provide a proper dinner or security for them."

We all sat there stewing on that for a little bit, at least until Marie purred a little and said, "Will."

"You sure, Mittens?" She just looked at me, giving me all the side-eye in the world. "Okay, I guess so. You sure you're okay with it, if Marie comes along to chaperone the kids?"

"Certainly. Does any particular day work better for you?"

I thought about that for a second. "How about Monday?"

Tallulah nodded. "Monday it is, then."

That left us the rest of the evening to soak, so we did.

My ladies have taken to soaking in my Maw in dreamland. Really weird. But then dreams are.

Woke up early, kissed everybody on the forehead and popped my uniform before any of them were properly awake. Okay, any of them except Marie, who caught me and gave me a thorough tonsil inspection before I left. I think my favorite part of the morning had to be ten minutes later, when I slid into a chair at one end of the high table in the Academy Dining Hall, only to have Murder Mittens herself slide a whole tray of spicy eggs and jalapeno scrapple in front of me. After properly rewarding my magnificent Maenad with some gratuitous liplock, I set to eating my nostalgic breakfast.

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While standing Co-Located at Parade Rest in the middle of the Practice yard.

I gotta say, I wasted a lot of really awesome spicy eggs last year. Okay, I didn't waste them, I ate them, but I really should have taken my time and savored them. Marie's cooking is meant to be enjoyed, not gobbled. But then I guess back then I was doing everything I could just to stay up and running. Like, I'm pretty sure at this point I could subsist on nothing but Worship, and if we hit another lean time like last year's near Famine, I would totally cut back to just enough to be polite, but back then I wasn't getting Worship from anybody except, y'know, maybe Siobhan after the incident with Bill.

As I savored my food, I took some time to look at the Cadets in the room. The first thing I noticed had to be the nametags. If anything, my Thursday class had more white on red than the overall Academy population. I mean, it made sense, what with every other City in the Alliance either suffering massive Heroic casualties or not having a real 'Heroic' tradition. I know the blue on white was Camden Yards, but I wasn't sure about the rest. I'd have to check up on that eventually, but for the moment I figured it could only prejudice me.

Cadets filed out of the Dining Hall when the Maids started giving people serious side-eye. I kept eating, enjoying the fact that the Maids seemed to accept the fact that Marie herself would take care of my trays when I finished. A few minutes later, Cadets started trickling into the Practice Yard. I stood at the East end, letting them try to get a good look at me with the rising sun backlighting me. Okay, it might have paused in its rising just to give me an extra couple minutes of backlighting. When about half of them had gathered up two pavers in front of me, I popped off a Message Spell to amplify my voice and said, "good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I was informed there was a class of Cadets meeting today to begin Physical Training. Was I misinformed?"

One of them, a straw haired blonde dude only a little bit shorter than Lachlan, shouted out, "yeah! Where's duBois?"

I smiled at him and let the sun continue on it's way. "That's odd, because CADETS OUGHT TO KNOW HOW TO STAND IN FORMATION!" They all froze when my shout rocked the Yard, then sprang into motion when I hollered, "four columns, eight rows, move, move move!"

At that point straw boy, whose orange and blue nametag read 'Citron', kinda whined out, "but how do we sort which City we're from?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Cadet Citron, are you or are you not from New Amsterdam?"

Ignoring the rest of the Cadets arranging themselves into four columns, sometimes with some less than gentle bickering, Citron said, "I am!" Like he wore that as a badge of pride or something. Which, just to be clear, I had nothing against folks from New Amsterdam. But this dude just reeked of an excess of a 'Larry circa a year ago' kind of arrogant stupidity.

I nodded, letting the Spell carry my voice to the other Cadets. "New Amsterdam is part of the Alliance, right?"

"Yes." Holy fuck this little jerk had a knack for pissing me off with a minimum of verbiage. He also said 'yes' like he wished New Amsterdam could back out of the Alliance or something.

No worries, though. "So, at some point you might wind up working, even fighting alongside any one of these fine Cadets, should the Imperator need you to, right?"

More booger look. "Yes."

I very carefully didn't sigh, mostly because I'd missed a trick. "You know, Cadets, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot here. I'm new to this whole 'instructing' thing. I've acted as Marshall duBois' teaching assistant a time or two, but this is the first time I'm teaching solo. My fault entirely. So let's start over." I paused, but Cadet Citron didn't get a rush of brains to the head. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Instructor Diaz, and this is Basic Physical Training. If you're scheduled for something else, you might want to leave, because otherwise you're missing class and you're gonna wind up sweaty for no good reason." Nobody laughed at my joke. A few in the formation looked like they weren't certain if they were allowed. Citron just idioted there. "Now, some of you may be wondering what my qualifications are. Because some of you might not recognize me."

I realized right then that the whole 'backlit' thing had probably been a mistake, entirely because it didn't let them get a good look at me. So I turned and started to do a bit of pacing, just to let them get a look at me in profile, maybe a look with a little less backlighting. "Now, as I said, you're all going to be training and working together for the foreseeable future. While it's fine to rep your City, I'mma make a few things clear here. First and foremost, if representing your City well drives you to be the best you can, I'm all for it. But the moment your City Pride makes you get stupid ideas like somehow the Alliance is a passing fad, or that one City is more important than another, I will disabuse you of that notion." I turned to Citron. "Do you know why that's important?"

He shrugged. "Some people might be jealous of those of us from wealthier Cities?"

I couldn't help it. I sighed and looked at the ground. "Where's the Headquarters of the Alliance?"

Citron replied, "New Amsterdam."

I blinked. "Incorrect." When Citron opened his mouth to argue, I drove over him. "Anybody else know?"

One smallish woman in the front row, who I just now realized had been standing in Parade Rest opposite me when I initially spurred everybody into motion, raised her hand. "Cadet..." I glanced at her nametag, then at her face, then back at her nametag, then back at her face. "Vickerson?" I stepped over to her, confirmed that she was in fact the same Vickerson I'd last seen getting cheered by her squad of Soldiers in Cavlerton, then back to my swagger line. "Holy shit, Vickerson, good to see you. Trying for Hero?" She nodded. "Okay, Cadet Vickerson, tell me, where's Alliance HQ?"

"The Grand Council Building of the Alliance is centered on the Grand Council Chamber, which is anchored by Treachery Rock, Ma'am!"

Damn. I'd never heard it called that before. Bitchin' name. Wish I'd thought of it. "What's that mean then, Cadet Vickerson?"

"The Capitol of the Alliance is not located within any of the Alliance's Cities, Ma'am!"

"Excellent!" At that point Citron had gotten a booger look on his face and directed it alternately at me and Vickerson. "Now," I spun to face him. "Can you tell me what else is important about Treachery Rock, and why you in particular should know about it, Cadet Citron?"

"It... started the final battle in the last war between New Amsterdam and Phileo?" I stared at him until he muttered a grudging, "Ma'am?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, it did. And why is that important to you in particular?"

He looked like he'd rather eat his own boots, but he ground out, "because the high casualty rate of Heroes meant that when Ophelia decided we needed to revamp our Academy, there were more openings for Cadets. Ma'am."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're on a first name basis with Grand Councilwoman Orange, Cadet?"

"She's my cousin, ma'am."

I closed my eyes, drew a deep breath. "Of course she is. Now, I'll ask you again, are you on a first name basis with her?" He got a mulish look, and I added, "because if you are, I can definitely mention your stellar performance in class to her next time we talk."

"No. Ma'am. That won't be necessary."

I nodded. "Well then. Do you know why the casualty rate was so high at the Battle of the Walls?" I noticed by the winces from well over half of the rest of the Cadets that they all knew why, even if Citron didn't.

"General Orange wasn't there to command, ma'am!"

I shook my head and stepped over in front of Citron. Well within reach if he got that stupid. "You are both correct and incorrect, Cadet Citron. Correct in detail, he was not on the battlefield outside of Newark's Walls. However, as it's called 'The Battle of the Walls', plural, because two battles happened simultaneously at that point. One outside Newark's walls, with New Amsterdam's forces commanded by Octavio Orange. The other outside Camden Yards' walls, commanded by General Oliver Orange. So he was, in fact, at the Battle of the Walls. Have you seen your cousin Oliver since the battle, Cadet Citron?"

"No, ma'am!"

I nodded. "Yeah, kinda figured. Next time you get leave, if you want to visit him, let me know. He deserves more people to see what happened to him."

I waited, and Citron went for the bait. "What happened to him, Ma'am?"

"The same thing that happened to all those other Heroes who died that day." I smiled, stepped up to where he had to look down to see my face looking up at him, and still amplified, whispered out, "me."

Finally the clue that I'd been hammering into his forehead sank in. "You're... you're her."

"I'm her." Fuck it, they could stretch after a warmup run. "Outer track, five miles, at a run, MOVE MOVE MOVE!"