(COMPLETE)
Lady Mhysra Kilpapan was blessed from birth with a distinguished family, a glorious home and a giant eagle miryhl of her own. Fully aware of her luck, she wants for nothing in life - except a chance to become a Rift Rider. The elite force...
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Eighteen
"GOOD EVENING, GENTLEMEN. Please sit down." Former Flight Commander Marshall was an unassuming man with silver streaks in his dark hair. Having been the dean of Aquila for almost ten years, he'd overseen Lyrai's training. So when he smiled, Lyrai fought the urge to squirm like a schoolboy, still unused to being called into the man's office for anything other than a reprimand. "A well-timed journey."
Thunder snarled as Myran accepted a goblet of wine. "We had fast winds, but only chance brought us in safely. The ships are moored at the caves."
"Safest place for them, storm or no," the dean said, waiting for his secretary to pass the wine around before opening the nearest ledger. "How many students, Myran?"
"Thirty-two," the captain said, nodding at Lyrai to fill in the details.
"Nineteen from Nimbys, sir, eight from Storm Peaks, five from Sutherall. Nine girls, twenty-three boys."
The dean inked in the numbers. "Thirty-two. A solid number. Made better for the girls' presence." He frowned at his ledger. "Added to the twenty-nine from Etheria, ten of which were girls, numbers are holding steady."
"Any word from North Point?" Fredkhen asked.
"Word, yes," the dean murmured, twirling his quill. "Thirteen students, including five girls. Hopefully they'll arrive soon. Weather permitting. The storms are early."
"More girls," Rees grumbled into his wine. "What use will they be?"
"They've already bolstered the numbers," Myran pointed out mildly. "If not for the girls this would be a poor year. Fewer are willing to risk their children for the glory of Rider fame."
Dean Marshall set aside his quill and rubbed his neck. "Original application numbers were up on recent years."
"How many of those withdrew after the attacks on Kevian and Cirrica?" Captain Roumn asked.
Fredkhen grimaced, which was all the answer they needed. "Two attacks in the Greater West, regardless of the low mortality rate, so close together... One could hardly blame parents for getting jumpy."
"Because life in the Riders has always been sweetness and light," Roumn mocked. "What did they think their children were signing up for, the Cloud Circus?"
"Thank you, captain," Marshall murmured, his soft voice still retaining the power of a commander. "Until you have children do not criticise others about how they care for theirs. It's one thing to hear of the glory of the Rift Riders, another to be confronted with corpses and casualties. Twenty-nine families of the Greater West have given us a glorious gift, do not scorn those whose generosity failed at the last."
"We'll see," the captain muttered. "Ten girls, remember? Our intake may yet decline."
"Have you seen any girls in action yet, captain?" Stirla asked, studying his nails.
