Syme sighed. A few days had passed since the meeting. Looking back, he'd managed to get most of his points across without being too suspicious. Sue and Nime were no issue. Saul, though, was an obstacle. Syme was pretty sure that he'd been seen through, but so far, nothing had come from it. Eran—it was hard to tell. In a way, he was the most dangerous.

The school he was at was a rich prep school that fed into a famous college, named Pisces Academy after the horoscope. 

His musings were interrupted by Cily, who had pointed to a word and looked to him for it's meaning.

"Tree. It's a plant. Yes, it's like those things out there, just much bigger and, er, greener. There's a picture of it here," he answered, flipping to a page.

They were in an empty classroom he had taken residency in. She was currently sitting in his lap, causing him no small discomfort, reading a children's book Sue had found somewhere. At first he'd just sat her on a table, but she grew anxious, and, sadly for his legs, he decided that it was worth the sacrifice to hasten her reading abilities. She would be a valuable tool, perhaps the only creature in this world capable of speaking both the Impish language and theirs.

There weren't any clothes fit for a someone her size, so Sue just gave her a spare uniform. The blazer itself reached to her knees, so she didn't wear the skirt. Additionally, Sue found a poofy hat to cover her horns, worried at any stigma they may cause. All together, she looked now simply as a normal, though pale, young kid pretending to be a highscooler.

The door slide open, a band of students entering. They were tired and dirtied, but were proud and eager to show what they had done. The leader, a skinny boy suitably named Bean, started, then stopped mid-sentence.

"Did we, er, come at a bad time?" he asked, looking at Cily. "If you're busy..."

"Hm? Don't worry about, I'm free at the moment,"  Syme replied.

"If you say so..." Bean said hesitatingly.

They were the set of engineering students Syme had asked for. He had separated the eight or so students into two groups, R&D1 and R&D2. R&D1 developed new technologies; R&D2 figured out how to produce them effectively. Their first task, was, of course, weaponry, and they had taken to it with passion.

As Bean fumbled around in his bag, the rest of the engineering teams filtered into the room and made themselves comfortable. A few of the girls in the group tried to pat Cily's head, but she recoiled away.

"I don't think she likes humans," one of them said in exasperation

"Really?" Syme murmured. He'd found her pretty obedient himself.

"Here," Bean said, handing something over to Syme. "The shaft that makes up the spear is a desk leg. Since you told us to model it after a short sword, the spear head extends more then halfway down the shaft and is sharp on both edges in addition to the point. It also acts as an impromptu guard."

Syme stabbed the air a few times; it handled well, with a good amount of weight at the end. Syme banged it a few times against a desk.

"Don't worry, we've done extensive testing," Bean reassured, "it won't break easily."

"Very good, very good," Syme mumbled. "You've done a good job. How's work going on production?"

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"If all of us are working it, we can probably  hammer out 5 or 6 per hour," Bean reported.

"That's impressive," Syme said. "Start as soon as you can. Stockpile them in the closet near the Council room. Sue will give you a spare key."

"We'll get on it, then," Bean said. "Next, the shield," he said, bringing out what looked lke a large wooden square. "The core is made of desk metal, with a wooden covering. These are slower to make, it'll take 2 or three hours per person."

"Mm, then focus on shields. They're more important. The less people die, the better," Syme said. "You've all done a good job," he added.

"Thanks," Bean said. "If that's all, we'll get to production, then."

"Wait," Syme said. "Bean, stay back. I have another project for you."

"Another project?" Bean asked curiously, but Syme didn't answer him until the rest of the group had filtered out.

"I need you to find water," Syme said. "We need to find water," he amended. "They've—I mean the Eran and the others—have been hiding this, but we're running out of water. So far we've used the water left from the plumbing, but we're starting to run dry."

"B-but how can I just find water? It's a desert!" Bean asked. "I'm not sure I can do that."

"Underground aquifers, perhaps? There's obviously no groundwater around, so that's our best shot. You're the smartest kid Eran knows, so if you can't do it, then we'll all just have to die of dehydration."

Bean gulped. "I'll... I'll try my best, I suppose. But don't get your hopes up."

"Of course," Syme reassured. "Eran said you can use anything, including the car batteries we've been hoarding. Try to be secretive as well, we don't want a panic."

Bean smiled nervously, then left.

Syme sighed; some things were going well, others were not. The problem still is that there is no impetus for the make-shift militia to actually train. Only a mere 75 students or so even signed up out of the 200 quota Syme had set, and of course no one trained seriously. For one, they didn't have the arms to train with—that was a problem he could now rectify, but they'll likely just treat the spears and shields as toys more than anything.

There were two problems with this; first, Syme standing would fall. As the "general" of the militia program he had pushed for so hard, the current state of affairs did not reflect well on him. If Eran or someone people knew lead the force, perhaps things would be different.

Second, Syme was genuinely beginning to worry about an attack. From what he had seen, it wouldn't be so hard to fortify the school building. The only problem is that no progressive had been made at all. His power play would be useless if everyone died.

"Whaat?" Cily asked, pointing at another word. Her speaking ability was improving faster than he had thought.

"That's a seed," Syme explained. "It grows into a tree," he continued, pointing at an illustration of a tree. "Though it starts small, it'll grow into something grand."

He picked up the short spear prototype Bean had left behind. As he had expected, the makeshift militia no longer sends guards with the scavengers because they find it too troublesome. It may be time for him to reap his crop.