The morning sun barely pierced through the high windows of the barracks' strategy room when Vaelen summoned Squad Four. The air was thick with anticipation—more than usual. The walls, lined with maps and insignias, seemed to hold their breath, waiting.
Vaelen's face was unreadable, but his eyes glinted with something sharper today. He motioned us to sit before a large oak table cluttered with parchments, scrolls, and a hefty book bound in cracked leather—the Empire's military codex.
"This," he began, tapping the codex, "is the foundation of how the Tarakin Empire commands and controls its vast forces. Understanding it is not just knowledge. It's survival."
I glanced at Riken, who was already eyeing the scroll we'd received yesterday. A designation for 'Special Investigation Squad.' It sounded like a fancy title for troublemakers. Or maybe spies.
Vaelen's voice cut through my thoughts.
"The Empire's military is not a single monolith, but a complex web of branches, each with its own chain of command and specialty."
He unfurled a map of the continent, Highmoor, its borders marked in crimson. The Empire's vast territory covered the central plains, from the icy peaks of the Frostfang Mountains in the north to the sun-baked deserts in the south.
"The backbone is the Imperial Legion—the foot soldiers, cavalry, siege engineers, and archers you've trained alongside. Organized into legions, each commanded by a Legate, they maintain order, enforce laws, and defend the borders."
Riken leaned forward. "So, we're part of the Legion?"
Vaelen shook his head. "Not exactly. You're assigned to the Special Investigation Corps—a smaller but more secretive branch. Your designation means you're a tool for the Empire's intelligence network, trained to gather information, handle sensitive operations, and investigate threats that could destabilize the realm."
Vell's brow furrowed. "Like what kind of threats?"
Vaelen tapped a rune-etched map highlighting the Beast Glades and several other "hot zones."
"Magic anomalies, unexplained disappearances, border incursions, or creatures beyond normal understanding—like the monster you encountered. The Legion handles open combat. The Special Investigation Corps moves in shadows."
Brayden looked impressed. "Sounds like we're getting the cool missions."
"Cool or deadly," Vaelen corrected. "You'll operate with discretion and subtlety, often behind enemy lines or within political hotbeds."
He flipped a page in the codex, revealing the Empire's hierarchy.
"At the top is the High Command Council, led by the Emperor's Hand. Below them are the Legates who command each legion, the Captains who command companies, and then the squad leaders—you'll be stepping into that world."
I swallowed. Squad leader had felt heavy before. Now it felt like the weight of the entire Empire.
Vaelen's gaze softened slightly.
"But understand this: the military system is as political as it is martial. Alliances, rivalries, and ambition thread through the ranks. To succeed, you'll need more than muscle and magic—you'll need cunning."
"Sounds like a court as much as a battlefield," Riken muttered.
Vaelen nodded. "Exactly. And you'll be tested in both."
He closed the codex with a sharp snap.
"Now, the Empire is not without rivals."
He gestured toward the map's borders.
"To the west lies the Ironhold Confederacy—an alliance of fiercely independent city-states ruled by warlords and mercenary captains. They respect strength and steel, often hiring freelance soldiers. They've clashed with us over mining rights and border towns."
Vell tilted her head. "Are they a threat?"
"For now, they are more a nuisance—skirmishes and raids. But their power grows."
Vaelen pointed eastward.
"Beyond the Beast Glades lies the Verdant Kingdom—a land of raw, untamed magic. Their rulers are known as the Circle of Thorns, wielders of ancient enchantments. They claim neutrality but have sent emissaries seeking trade and knowledge. Some believe they watch for weakness to exploit."
Brayden grinned. "Sounds like a fantasy story."
Vaelen's expression darkened.
"Fantasy or not, their magic is real and potent. You may encounter their agents."
Then he pointed to the north, which had a blue-silver banner. "This is the Magistrate Kingdom of Velbraith not a monarchy in the usual sense. Their rulers are elected from the ranks of their highest mages. They've got more mages in a city than we have in the entire Imperial Academy. They keep to themselves unless they think magic's being 'misused'… which usually means they show up where they're not wanted."
Riken clicked his tongue "Bet my magic is better, you know quality over quantity"
Vaelen gave him a glare "You should hope"
After he pointed south "Here, the Dunwaste Expanse. only thing that forsaken place is dry, brutal country, full of scattered settlements and nomadic traders. No empire, no central law. Sometimes they sell us grain in dry years; sometimes they raid our caravans. You'll hear them called a land of knives and lies. But be careful not a word said their can be taken as truthful trust only your team there."
Vaelen pointed to the Northcoast now "Here is the Frostmark holds they are to far to be of any trouble so don't mind them."
"And the Beastmen?" I asked, recalling the wandering tribes.
Vaelen's eyes flickered.
"The tribes beyond the Ironhold—wild and unpredictable. They honor strength and spirit. Some have allied with the Confederacy. Others roam free, a constant challenge for the Empire's scouts and patrols."
Riken rubbed his chin. "So, we're surrounded by plenty to keep busy."
"Precisely."
Vaelen paced, voice growing serious.
"You'll be operating at the intersection of all these forces. Your squad is unique—trusted to probe where others cannot, to act where others dare not."
I felt the weight of that settle deep.
"And," Vaelen added, "you'll have support. Intelligence analysts, arcane specialists, and veteran operatives will assist you from the shadows."
Riken smirked. "Like a spy movie."
"Like survival," Vaelen said.
He gestured to the scroll again.
"This designation means you'll receive new gear, specialized training, and orders directly from the High Command. Your successes will be noticed—and so will your failures."
Squad Four exchanged looks. The joke cracks and easy smiles faded. The real test was only beginning.
As the briefing ended, Vaelen's usual sternness softened.
"You have one week to prepare. The next phase of your training will be unlike anything you've faced."
The squad filed out, the weight of the Empire's ambitions settling over us.
Outside the room, Riken nudged me.
"Well, Sea Child," he grinned, "looks like we're not just the misfit squad anymore. Time to be heroes or at least not screw up too badly."
I laughed, the tension breaking.
"Let's just make sure we live through it first."