"Huh… h-huh…"
Riche's breath came in broken gasps as his eyes stayed locked on the stone floor. His mind gone wild.
'I killed… innocent…'
The thought of what he had done gnawed at him, tearing away his focus, hollowing him from the inside out.
Whispers rippled through the hall. Dozens of eyes turned toward him.
Legatus Guerd Nidec straightened even further, hands folding neatly before him. From his elevated position, he observed the scene with calm detachment.
"So," he said quietly, his voice cutting cleanly through the murmurs, "you were the one who killed them." He nodded slightly.
Riche looked up. His eyes were wild, glassy, twisted with pain. His face trembled under the weight of what he felt.
"I didn't… I didn't know…" His voice cracked. "Why would… you…?"
The words collapsed before it could fully form out.
Mihel dropped to his knees beside him and pulled Riche's face into his hands, grounding him.
"Riche. Listen to me," he said urgently. "You didn't know….It's fine…"
'Well…it's not actually fine…but I don't understand this reaction? This affected?' Mihel's thoughts were broken as he heard a croaking sound.
"I killed them," Riche whispered, voice thin and breaking. "I wanted to protect… the innocent….but I killed."
Guerd turned his head slightly toward the Decurions behind him.
Mihel followed his gaze.
The woman Decurion was openly crying on the shoulder of the man next to her. He noticed Vidoria Kidt meet the Legatus's eyes and give a slow, grim nod.
Guerd inhaled once, deeply, then addressed the hall.
"This test revealed that two among you possess the resolve required to act under extreme pressure," he said. "Riche Malant and Mihel Westrow. Your decision to pursue and rescue your companion, Midia Ferdian, demonstrated initiative, coordination, and combat aptitude."
His gaze swept the hall and stopped at where Mihel was standing, the coldness from before gone, now almost tender.
"You acted under the belief that the attackers were genuine threats. For this reason, responsibility for the casualties will not fall upon you."
Riche's body trembled.
"The Decurions will handle the remaining formalities," Guerd continued. "Salutis Exousia."
He performed the standard salute, turned, and walked off the platform, disappearing through the side passage.
The hall erupted into noise. Voices overlapped. Shock. Curiosity. Judgment. Rumours spread with no regard to the situation. Accusations were quietly formed. Everyone staring at the blonde recruit on the ground.
Mihel helped Riche to his feet as eyes followed his every movement. The rest of the group stood uncertain, unsure how to approach him now.
Then someone pushed through the crowd. A black-haired girl stopped in front of Riche.
Frese.
"Riche," she said firmly, meeting his gaze. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were protecting your friends."
She placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Stand up straight. Be yourself again," she said quietly. "You can't afford to break now. We're finally here, at the Exousia."
The three from Burth exchanged glances, unsure who she was or how she knew him.
Before anyone could ask, a Decurion's voice rang out.
"Frese Cretia."
She flinched as she heard her name being called. She stood for a moment, grasping the names of the others being called along with her.
"That's me," she said, then turned back to Mihel. "Looks like the groups are the same as the Engine compartments."
Mihel nodded, counting the Decurions as they called names.
"I'll be going then," Frese said, squeezing Riche's shoulder once more. "Bring him back to himself, alright?" she muttered, turning to Mihel.
She shook his hand and joined her assigned group as the first Decurion led them away.
Riche remained standing.
Mihel remained lost in thought.
'We were in Compartment Twelve. That means the twelfth Decurion.'
His jaw tightened.
'Vidoria Kidt.'
Soon enough, Kidt's voice rang out across the hall.
"Mihel Westrow. Riche Malant. Vinelyn Drean. Halise Gurion. Midia Ferdian."
'As expected…same groups'
At the sound of his name, Riche seemed to wake from the remnants of his grief. He straightened, wiping his face with the back of his hand. His eyes were still red, still swollen, but something steadier had settled behind them.
"I'm… sorry for the disturbance," he muttered hoarsely. "I don't know what came into me. I'll act as I should from now. Please forgive me."
His posture shifted. Not exactly rigid, but no longer broken. Sadness was still seen behind his eyes, but he pulled himself together.
'This won't be the last time I face something like this,' Riche thought. 'If I fall apart every time, I won't survive.'
Mihel studied his friend's expression and let out a slow breath. 'Good. He's standing again. Still… I'll need to talk to him. Alone.'
The five of them stepped forward together. Compartment Twelve, reunited.
Vidoria Kidt greeted them with an easy smile, his eyes lingering on Mihel for just a fraction longer than necessary.
"Salutis Exousia," he said. "I'm Vidoria Kidt. Your Decurion. The Second Decurion of the Seventh Cohort, as I already introduced to Mihel and Riche."
There was a faint lilt to his speech, an accent that didn't belong to Avra.
"Well then," he continued lightly, clapping his hands once, "how about we head into the city? You've had quite a journey. Training starts tomorrow."
Mihel blinked.
'City? Inside the walls?'
The others shared the same look of surprise.
Vidoria chuckled at their expressions. "Relax. You look like I just told you the walls would bite."
He gestured toward an exit beside the raised platform. Its wooden frame was carved with intricate patterns, half-hidden behind a dark veil.
"Come on."
Vidoria passed through without hesitation.
Mihel paused for a heartbeat before following.
'A new chapter begins here.' He took a deep breath in.
Beyond the veil stretched a stone tunnel, similar to the one leading from the Engine station. Smooth walls, evenly spaced lamps, their soft glow flickering like breathing light.
After a short walk, another veil came into view.
Mihel pushed through…and froze.
Before them lay a city.
Not sprawling like Skaria, nor crowded with towering spires and grand buildings. Instead, modest houses and scattered shops lined clean streets. People moved about freely, talking, laughing, living.
And above it all rose the Exousia Citadel, dominating the skyline like a silent sentinel.
Mihel's brow furrowed.
'They built a city inside the fortress…In a siege, wouldn't these people be the first to suffer?'
The thought settled uneasily in his chest as he stepped forward, deeper into this new environment.
"Notice the people?" Vidoria said, gesturing around them. "They're families of soldiers and veterans. Free accommodation within Exousia branches. They live peacefully here. Everything they need is provided."
Vinelyn glanced around, then asked, "So our lodgings… will they be inside the Citadel?"
Vidoria slowed as they passed a cart stacked with freshly baked goods. "No. Not in the Citadel." He stopped briefly, pulling a few coins from his pouch and handing them to the vendor. "We train you to act responsibly. You'll be given separate housing."
Mihel frowned inwardly. 'So we live like ordinary citizens? Strange system…but effective.' His eyes drifted across the streets, taking in the rhythm of daily life. Few people roamed the streets. He could see another group like them further up the cobbled street, taking in the sights.
Vidoria turned back with a small grin. "Take these. Ava cream buns. Slightly sweet. Very addictive."
He handed one to each of them.
Mihel examined the bun in his palm. It was warm, its surface faintly glossy, the scent alone enough to tempt him. He took a cautious bite. The sweetness bloomed instantly, rich and enticing, flooding his mouth.
'This is… incredible.' His eyes widened, mirrored by the others.
Vidoria chuckled at their expressions. "Told you. We'll get more later. Now then, shall we head to your quarters?"
They followed him through wide stone streets, the ground laid with carefully shaped slabs. Lantern posts lined the road at regular intervals, not lit in the daytime, but still standing upright, quietly waiting for the Sun to set.
Eventually, Vidoria stopped.
Before them stood a grimy, aging building. Brown paint peeled from its walls. Dark stains crawled along the stone, and a sour smell hung in the air.
Mihel's jaw tightened, though his expression remained unchanged.
'This has to be a test. He's only checking our reactions'
He noticed Vidoria watching them closely.
"Well," Vidoria said, coughing lightly, "this will be your residence. Go on in. I'll return tomorrow morning. Settle down. Explore a little." He smiled, gave a casual wave, and walked off down the street.
The group stared at the building. Broken pipes jutted from the walls like snapped bones. The entrance sagged slightly inward.
"Eugh…" Midia groaned. "Is this really where the Exousia houses new soldiers?"
They stepped inside.
A cramped lobby greeted them, thick with smoke. Behind a worn counter sat a fat man with patchy stubble and swollen pink lips, lazily puffing on a pipe. The smell was suffocating.
Riche approached the counter. "We're new Exousia recruits. Do you have rooms available?"
The man lifted his head slowly, squinting through the haze. He exhaled a cloud of smoke straight into Riche's face before replying in a sluggish drawl.
"Yeah… yeah… I was told." He pointed vaguely upward. "Third floor. First two doors. Enjoy."
His eyes closed again as he leaned back, pipe glowing softly.
Riche stepped away, forcing a thin smile.
"Well then," he said, voice tight. "Shall we?"