Fire Can Not Kill || Fourth Wing

Chapter Four~

Chapter Five~

Dani POV~

Knowing I am in direct disagreement with General Melgren's orders, I am officially objecting to the plan set forth in today's briefing. It is not this general's opinion that the children of the rebellion's leaders should be forced to witness their parents' executions. No child should watch their parent put to death.

-The Tyrrish Rebellion, an official brief for King Tauri by General Lilith Sorrengail

"Welcome to your first Battle Brief," Professor Devera says from the recessed floor of the enormous lecture hall later in the morning, a bright purple Flame Section patch on her shoulder matching her short hair perfectly. This is the only class held in the circular, tiered room that curves the entire end of the academic hall and one of only two rooms in the citadel capable of fitting every cadet. Every creaky wooden seat is full, and the senior third-years are standing against the walls behind us, but we all fit.

It's a far cry from history last hour, where there were only three squads of first-years, but at least the first-years in our squad are all seated together. Now if I could only remember all their names.

Ridoc is easy to remember-he cracked wise-ass comments all through history, I joined in a lot too, despite Violets glowers at us to be quiet. Though we both do know better than to try the same in here. Professor Devera isn't the joking kind, and we don't really want to be killed on our first official day, it's be a waste.

"In the past, riders have seldom been called into service before graduation," Professor Devera continues, her mouth tensing as she paces slowly in front of a twenty-foot-high map of the Continent mounted to the back wall that's intricately labeled with our defensive outposts along our borders. Dozens of mage lights illuminate the space, more than making up for the lack of windows and reflecting off the longsword she keeps strapped to her back.

"And if they were, they were always third-years who'd spent time shadowing forward wings, but we expect you to graduate with the full knowledge of what we're up against. It's not about just knowing where every wing is stationed, either." She takes her time, making eye contact with every first-year she sees. The rank on her shoulder says captain, but I know she'll be a major before she leaves her rotation teaching here, given the medals pinned on her chest. "You need to understand the politics of our enemies, the strategies of defending our outposts from constant attack, and have a thorough knowledge of both recent and current battles. If you cannot grasp these basic topics, then you have no business on the back of a dragon." She arches a black brow a few shades darker than her deep-brown skin.

"No pressure," Dylan mutters at my side, furiously taking notes.

"We'll be fine," I promise him in a whisper. "Third-years have only been sent to midland posts as reinforcements, never the front." I'd kept my ears open around my mother enough to know that much, and mainly because of the fact they're kept so far from, the front I've never seen them in the infirmary.

"This is the only class you will have every day, because it's the only class that will matter if you're called into service early." Professor Devera's gaze sweeps from left to right and pauses on Violet and me. Her eyes flare wide for a heartbeat, but she gives an approving smile and nod before moving on.

"Because this class is taught every day and relies on the most current information, you will also answer to Professor Markham, who deserves nothing but your utmost respect." She waves the scribe forward, and he moves to stand next to her, the cream color of his uniform contrasting with her stark black one. He leans in when she whispers something to him, and his thick eyebrows fly high as he whips his head in Violets direction.