The sun blazed down as I watched my beloved misfits of Class C self-destruct once again.
Leo had just fallen into a pit he dug himself. Wallace's "improved" smoke bomb ignited his cloak. Garrick tripped over Felix, and Julien—bless his overconfidence—got stuck in a bush while yelling something about honor.
"Excellent," I said, sipping from my teacup. "A truly masterful display of how not to survive anything ever."
"I think my ribs are broken," Felix groaned.
"Good. Maybe you'll learn to dodge next time."
That's when the click of polished shoes reached my ears.
Turning, I spotted the familiar uniform of the External Affairs department—polished, pristine, and filled with just enough bureaucratic dread to ruin anyone's day.
"Ah. Trouble arrives exactly on schedule," I muttered.
The attendant bowed slightly. "Instructor Lucian Drelmont. Apologies for the interruption."
"I was in the middle of insulting my students," I replied. "This better be good."
