“I had the epiphany that laughter was light, and light was laughter, and that this was the secret of the universe.” — Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

  ???

  It’s been a long time since General Callum Thorne had last set foot in the Imperial Officers Academy. He hasn’t been back here since his own son’s graduation at least a decade or two ago.

  Yet it seemed as though the military institution hadn’t changed all that much.

  The design of the uniforms had evolved slightly since the time when Callum Thorne had been a student himself, or even from when his son had attended. But the overall colour scheme and base design had stayed mostly the same.

  Today, however, Callum Thorne wasn’t here on official business. His visit stemmed purely from curiosity—to see how the second years would fare in their first war simulation test.

  He had taken a particular interest in this year’s second years, as not only were so many heirs and heiresses of the Ten Great Houses in the same cohort, the Crown Prince himself was among them, as was the younger son of Commander Hunt, who was Callum’s superior in Protectorate.

  Cassian Hunt, like all Hunt men before him, had enlisted into Protectorate after his own graduation from the Academy a few years prior. He now served under Callum’s command in the Third Protectorate Army. And with his level of skill and talent, Cassian Hunt’s promotion to Major was simply a matter of time.

  “Oh. General Thorne!” The head instructor was taken aback, standing up in surprise when Callum entered the instructors’ tent. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  The other instructors, and even the teaching aides, were all giving Callum respectful, and even fearful gazes.

  With his steel-grey hair cropped short, weathered tan skin, and deep-set lines carved by both age and the battlefield, it was no wonder many felt uneasy in his presence. He had earned a fearsome reputation in Alathia’s military, and was known as a man to not cross. Clad in his black and white military uniform, with a mechanical prosthetic as a replacement of the left hand that he’d lost in the war against Nuvelle—a prosthetic that doubled as a weapon in emergencies, General Callum Thorne hardly look like the gentlest person in the world.

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  Even several of Callum’s subordinates were terrified of him.

  “Well, I had the afternoon free, and I thought that I would like to take a look at the war simulation test when I heard that it was being held today,” Callum said solemnly. He raised a hand. “Please pay me no mind. I am just here to observe.”

  “Y-Yes sir,” One of the other instructors squeaked.

  The head instructor, however, was not as easily intimidated, unlike the other instructors. He gestured for Callum to take the empty seat at the table in the middle of the tent, where a large map was spread out and dotted with markers.

  “Not sure what you knew about this mock war simulation test—”

  “I heard a bit about it from Captain Cassian Hunt,” Callum interjected, his sharp eyes scanning the tent, where the instructors and the teaching aides were bustling around, barking orders, and scribbling notes onto their clipboards. “The Academy’s changed quite a bit since my time, which is probably for the better. All that I’ve heard from Captain Hunt is that simulations and mock combat tests are conducted periodically to prepare the second years for their midterms and finals. And today is one of those simulations.”

  The head instructor nodded. “That’s right. We ran the simulation for the Standard classes last week. Today is for the Advanced classes.” He gestured toward the map on the table. Callum’s bushy eyebrows furrowed, eyeing the numerous red and blue coloured markers, mimicking a mock battlefield. “We’ve placed the students into mock governance teams, mixing both Advanced classes evenly. The objective is to simulate a war scenario, and to assess how each team responds. They’re allowed to use any strategy at their disposal. Whichever team that has the most ‘troops’ standing by the end of the day wins.”

  The head instructor moved one of the red pieces, scribbling something onto his clipboard, before he continued, “The scenario simulates a siege that’s been ongoing for three days. Food and supplies are running low on both sides. There is no reinforcement coming. At least, none that they know of. Each team must devise a plan or counterattacks to win within the allotted time.”

  “The red team is led by Prince Rem,” One of the other instructors chimed in, scribbling notes onto her clipboard. “The blue team is led by Yuliana Nightray. The test has been going on for nearly half a day, and at this point, it seems like the red team is on the verge of collapse.”

  Callum raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  One of the other instructors chuckled and nodded, making a quick note on the board. “We’ve been monitoring their strategies, and even their progress. The red team, under Prince Rem, has focused largely on forming alliances and brokering ‘peace talks’. The blue team, on the other hand, had been utilising misinformation, espionage, and sabotage to devastating effect. They’ve been steadily picking the red team apart.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I confess, I wasn’t expecting such a tactic from Yuliana Nightray. And then again, she is a Nightray. Espionage runs in their blood.”

  Callum had a small smile on his face. “Then I must confess that I’m curious in seeing how this all plays out,” he said quietly. “Especially how Prince Rem handles it.” He sighed. “I’ve been hearing rumours. And hopefully, these tests would be what can teach him what he needs to know.”

  The instructors exchanged uneasy glances. General Thorne hadn’t said anything directly, but they all knew what he was implying.

  Due to social decorum and professional ethics, none of the instructors dared to say it aloud.

  But everyone knew the truth: the Crown Prince is in no way ready for the throne. He fares well in philosophy and theoretical subjects. But in practical fields like tactics and military strategy, he often faltered. He struggles with the decisions. Or worse, make the wrong decisions.

  And in a real war, if Prince Rem makes the wrong calls as he did in the simulations, it will cost more than just the lives of his soldiers.

  If the Crown Prince failed to learn what he needed to, not just as a prince, but as the future king, the consequences wouldn’t fall on him alone.

  They would fall on the entire kingdom.