Chapter 8: Shadows Beneath the Crest
Julien sat at his desk in the dormitory assigned to Division Twelve—sleek, minimal, military-efficient. The lights were dimmed to rest mode, but the soft glow of his terminal screen cast shadows across his face.
His hand hovered above a sealed envelope that had been slipped beneath his door during the night. It wasn't the typical digital summon. No sender, no insignia. Just a wax crest: three stars surrounding a diagonal slash. The mark of Imperial Intelligence.
He opened it.
> "Report to Commander Elsin. Room 4-7A, Sublevel Black."
"Alone."
No explanation. No appointment logged in the main network. And no right to refuse.
Julien dressed in silence and left his room, his footsteps barely making a sound in the underground corridor. The sublevels of the Academy grounds were rarely spoken of. Only a handful of cadets even knew they existed.
When he arrived at Room 4-7A, the door slid open before he touched it.
Inside sat Commander Elsin—a man as unreadable as myth. Thin, pale, elegant in the way a blade is elegant just before it cuts. He wore civilian-class robes instead of a uniform, but they were stitched with magic-resistant threads. His eyes were shadowed with the kind of tired that only came from seeing too much.
"Julien Deton," Elsin said. "Or should I call you by your other name?"
Julien's heart jumped. "Excuse me?"
Elsin stood slowly and began circling him the way Veldaric once had, though his presence felt colder. Less animal. More... surgical.
"We flagged your performance in the simulation gauntlet," Elsin said. "Not because of your score. But because of a very specific card signature you used—one last seen thirteen years ago, encoded in a prototype card crafted by the Deton bloodline."
Julien didn't answer. Couldn't.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to report you. I just want to know what kind of game the Marshal is playing, bringing you in so suddenly."
So that was it. Elsin wasn't loyal to Veldaric. He was watching him too.
Julien forced calm into his voice. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Elsin's smile didn't reach his eyes. "You're clever. But clever won't protect you when the Council starts asking the same questions I am."
Then he handed Julien a card.
It was blank on the surface—no enchantments, no color, just white.
But as Julien took it in hand, something flickered across it. Faint script etched in gold. Not in Imperial Standard, but in Old Cardscript—a language no cadet should know.
Yet Julien read it instinctively.
> "The key sleeps in flame. Find the memory that burns."
The words vanished as quickly as they had appeared.
Julien looked up, pulse roaring in his ears. Elsin was already turning away.
"You're dismissed," he said. "Do be careful, Deton. You're standing at the edge of an old war. And the Marshal—he doesn't share his toys."
When Julien returned to his quarters, he locked the door and activated the personal ward Kael had installed—a little gift, under the guise of protection.
He pulled out the obsidian card Veldaric had left him during training.
The surface shimmered. This time, something new had been added:
> "I warned you. No lies. No secrets."
"If someone else touches what's mine, I will burn this world down."
Julien stared at the words, breath caught in his throat.
So Veldaric knew. Not everything—but enough to be dangerous. Enough to be possessive.
And maybe… enough to protect him.
Whether Julien wanted that or not.