Chapter 164: The Crimson Tide [5]

Chapter 164: The Crimson Tide [5]


Professor Aldwin Thorne stood at the front of the lecture hall, chalk in hand, gesturing at the map pinned to the wall behind him.


His voice carried through the room where students sat scattered across the rows, some taking notes, others staring blankly ahead.


"Which brings us to the critical point of supply chain management during prolonged conflicts."


He set the chalk down and dusted off his hands. Moved to the front of his desk and leaned against it.


His eyes swept across the students. "Your evaluation exams are scheduled for next week."


Groans rippled through the room. A few students sat up straighter, suddenly more alert.


"I know, I know. You all thought you had more time." Thorne’s expression didn’t shift. "You don’t. The exams will cover everything we’ve discussed. Military theory, historical case studies, strategic analysis, and practical problem-solving."


He pushed off the desk and walked to the center of the room. "The evaluation isn’t just for grades. It determines your house placement."


That got everyone’s attention. The murmuring stopped. Even the students who’d been half-asleep were paying attention now.


"For those of you who somehow missed orientation, " Thorne’s tone suggested he knew exactly who hadn’t been paying attention, "Phoenix Academy operates on a house system. There are four houses, ranked by prestige and resources."


He held up one finger. "First, Silver Crown. The top house. Reserved for the highest performers. Students in Silver Crown receive priority access to advanced training facilities, private tutors, and direct mentorship from senior professors and guest lecturers."


Another finger. "Second, Iron Talon. Strong performers. Solid resources, good instructors, but not quite the same level of access as Silver Crown."


A third finger. "Third, Bronze Shield. Average performers. Standard resources. Nothing exceptional, nothing lacking."


He paused before raising the fourth finger. "And finally, Copper Thorn. The bottom house. For students who... need improvement. Limited resources. Larger class sizes. Less prestigious instructors."


The room had gone completely quiet now.


"Your house placement affects everything," Thorne continued, pacing slowly across the front of the room.


"Your training schedule. Your access to the library’s restricted sections. Your eligibility for certain missions and field assignments. Even your standing when you graduate and enter service to noble houses or the military."


He stopped and faced them directly. "In short, it matters. Perform well on the evaluations, you get opportunities. Perform poorly, you spend your time at this academy struggling to catch up while everyone else advances."


A hand shot up near the front. "Can we move between houses, sir? If we improve?"


"Yes. House placements are reevaluated at the end of each term based on your overall performance. You can move up, " he paused meaningfully, "Or down. Nothing is permanent except your graduation house, which is what appears on your final records."


Another hand. "What if we’re already skilled? Do we still have to prove ourselves in the evaluation?"


Thorne’s expression turned dry. "Yes. The evaluation is mandatory for all first-year students. I don’t care if you’re the greatest tactical mind or if you can recite every military treatise ever written. You take the exam like everyone else."


He moved back to his desk and picked up a stack of parchment. "Study materials are available in the library. I suggest you use them."


Then he glanced at the clock on the wall. "That’s all for today. Class dismissed."


He moved back to his desk and picked up a stack of parchment. "Study materials are available in the library. I suggest you use them."


Then he glanced at the clock on the wall. "That’s all for today. Class dismissed."


And eyes swept across the room one last time and landed on a specific student in the back row. Head pillowed on his arms, shoulders rising and falling in steady rhythm. A soft snoring sound drifted from that direction.


Professor Thorne’s expression didn’t change. He simply gathered his materials, tucked them under his arm, and moved toward the door.


"Good luck. I hope you all do well."


Then he left.


The room erupted into noise. Students stood, stretching and gathering their things. Conversations overlapped, complaints about the short notice, arguments about which house they’d end up in, plans to form study groups.


Books thudded closed. Footsteps headed toward the exits.


Verelia closed her notebook with a soft snap and. She turned her head to the side.


Alaric sat slumped in the seat next to her, head down on his crossed arms. His breathing was deep and even. Completely dead to the world.


Her eyes narrowed.


She reached over and nudged his shoulder. "Alaric."


Nothing. Not even a twitch.


She nudged harder. "Wake up."


Still nothing.


Around them, the last few students filtered out of the room. The noise level dropped. Within moments, they’d be alone in the empty lecture hall.


Verelia’s jaw tightened. She prodded him again, this time with enough force to actually move his shoulder.


"Mmm... five more minutes," Alaric mumbled without lifting his head.


Her eye twitched.


Five more minutes. Like this was his bedroom and not the middle of a lecture hall where he’d just slept through an important announcement about evaluations.


Verelia stared at him for a long moment. Then ice began to form on her fingertips.


A thin layer of frost spread across the desk surface. Crept toward where Alaric’s arm rested.


She placed her hand flat on the wood next to his elbow. The frost accelerated, racing across the remaining distance and coating his sleeve in a layer of crystalline ice.


Cold seeped through the fabric. Then through his shirt. Bit into his skin.


Alaric’s eyes snapped open.


"What the—" He jerked upright, yanking his arm back. Ice crystals clung to his sleeve, already starting to melt.


He blinked rapidly, disoriented, looking around the empty lecture hall. "Where—"


"Class ended." Verelia’s voice was flat. She pulled her hand back, the frost on the desk evaporating into mist.


"You slept through the entire lecture."


Alaric rubbed his face with his non-frozen hand. Tried to process what was happening. His mind felt sluggish, thoughts moving through fog.


"What time is it?"


"Time for you to start paying attention." She stood and gathered her things. "The evaluation exams are next week. They determine house placement. Which you would know if you’d been awake."


He blinked at her. "House placement?"


Evaluation. Next week. House placement.


"Right," he said.


"Thanks for the," he gestured vaguely at his arm, "Wake up."


"Don’t thank me. Just don’t embarrass me by failing into Copper Thorn." Verelia slung her bag over her shoulder. "We’re engaged. Your performance reflects on me whether I like it or not."


She headed for the door without waiting for a response.


Alaric sat there for another moment, shaking ice crystals off his sleeve. His arm was numb from the cold. His head felt stuffed with cotton. And he was pretty sure he’d just been lectured by his fiancée about not being an embarrassment.


Great start to the day.


He stood slowly, gathered his things—which apparently he’d brought to class even though he didn’t remember taking notes—and followed Verelia out into the corridor.


She was already gone. Probably off to the library to start studying immediately like the perfect student she was.


Alaric rubbed his eyes. Tried to shake off the exhaustion that had been weighing on him since last night.


"Just what was that?"