Every year, hundreds die within the walls of Basgiath War College. It's no surprise that many are those who choose the Riders Quadrant. Dragons do not tolerate much, but neither do the ruthless gryphons on the outside of the wards.
At least...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
・・・ ・・・ ・・・
Varrish isn't waiting on the flight field when Tairn and I land in the afternoon. We touch down shockingly close to the Gauntlet and accompanying cliffs on account of having to avoid the riot of First Wing third-years and their dragons doing flight maneuvers. I walk to his right shoulder, where I usually slide down. It's immediately evident that I will not be going down this leg today, considering the way his talons curl over the edge of the Gauntlet's side. From here, I can see the first-years of our squad racing up the various traps. Then I walk to his left shoulder and take it.
"With the number of dragons present, I do not doubt that the subsidy and the Colonel have been alerted to your return," Tairn warns me just as I stabilize on my feet after hitting the ground. "I guessed as much," I respond, lugging the pack up onto my shoulder opposite the glaive. I turn to grab the small pouch I'd tossed down with it, the one I usually keep either looped around my hips or hanging from the glaive's strap.
The clasp has popped open, spilling its contents onto the short grass. I sigh to myself, then crouch down to get it put away. "Our departure was more my fault than yours. Do not bear my punishment; I will not stand for it." I smile a bit to myself before a corner of bright red catches my eye. Panic immediately floods my system. My notebook. Oh fuck.
Tairn turns his head slightly toward me as I stuff it back into the pouch. First Wing's dragons start landing in the field behind me, making my mind race. Is it better to put it in my bag or leave it in the pouch? It hardly fits in the little one, but Varrish always checks my bag. I haven't seen him yet, so maybe it'd be fine. Or maybe he won't even notice I have a new place to keep things, considering I don't usually take the side pocket with me to Samara, and won't even search it. Before I can decide properly, the chatter of approaching cadets surrounds my senses. I don't have the time to move it now without it getting noticed. If Varrish somehow finds out I own it, he'll be looking for it.
I quickly clasp the pouch half-closed with the singular buckle left unbroken, shuffling about a few items to try to cover the color. Finally, I manage to mostly do so, and I stand to head for the stairs. Tairn waits until I pass in front of him before launching, sending a gust of wind into my back. Aaric scales the top of the Gauntlet with ease. Visia follows in his wake when I'm halfway down the stairs. Will is third, and I watch with bated breath as she slips on the rotating stairs. Thank the gods, she manages to grab one of the ropes along the side and haul herself back up.
"(Y/N)!" Sloane calls as I get to the landing by the Vault door. She's still a couple of stories down at the cliff's base, waiting second in line to go, though Professor Emetterio stands just between me and where I need to go. Quietly, I move my hand to cover the open pouch, just in case. "Would you like to offer some advice to your squad's first-years, patch-winner?" he asks. He doesn't smile, but the expression on his face is closer to pleasant than not. I smile a bit to myself, then turn back to the group. "Take the stairs at a run and kick off as much sideways as you go up. I promise, it will help," I shout down at them.
