The yard sprawled under the sun. It wasn't bright; the heat was taut but steady. A dozen recruits trained with sweeping mana arcs, lifting stones or collapsing them in spirals. Sweat streamed unabashed from their faces.
A woman with a clipboard approached, pen hovering over parchment. Her hair was tied back, her eyes sharp, assessing. "Rethan?" she said without a greeting. "You're late."
He paused, then nodded. Heads turned. A hush slid across the recruits.
She clicked the clipboard. "I heard about what happened. Sub-column instability above fifty percent. Luckily, containment held. No fallout. That's fortunate. Not smart."
Rethan braced himself. "I know."
Sergeant Brane stepped forward. He was solid, brick-thick in both body and voice. "We're doing pairing drills today. I'm assigning you a partner. Namely, Alin."