Page 47 of The Last Dragon
I knock on his wooden door with rusty studs and wait for a response. Heavy footsteps and jingling keys approach from inside, but the rhythm doesn’t match his. A man with dark ash short hair and a scar on his left cheek steps out and blocks the half-open door. Berim. He clearly doesn’t want anyone peeking inside.
“The general is occupied,” he says in a low growl, scanning me for any threat.
“I need to speak with him,” I say.
His eyes narrow, sharp as blades, trying to pierce me. He pulls the door closed tighter. My patience is wearing thin when the general’s calm voice carries out of the room.
“Let him through, Berim.”
Berim hesitates, letting out a disapproving grunt before pushing the door open, his grip tight on the edge. My eyes stay fixed on him, waiting for him to release the door.
The room is lit by dim candlelight, parchment neatly stacked, the ink still shimmering as it dries. The general sits quietly at his desk, scribbling on a nearly dry sheet. It amazes me how he can switch between a ruthless leader to a calm man, scribbling reports to the other Holds and the King. I have yet to fully master control over my emotions—especially anger. But I’ve seen firsthand how it can consume him. The early years of my training and his demands were marked by nothing less than blood-soaked fingernails.
I stand firm, legs slightly apart, arms behind my back, eyes fixed just below his—just as I was taught years ago. A soldier’s stance. Silence stretches between us, broken only by the crackling fire and the soft scratch of the quill. Finally, a quiet sigh shatters the stillness.
“What is this about?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the parchment.
“I’d like to make some adjustments to my unit,” I say, trying to keep my voice clear and steady. I spot the King’s black-crowned crest stamped on the corner of the parchment.
“After the Redsnout attack, Nida has shown… potential.” I break my gaze, focusing on the painting behind him. “But not enough for me to feel like she’s on my level.” The words are bitter in my mouth.
He pauses, lifting his head, his body oddly relaxed before returning to the parchment. “Do you doubt my placement?”
“No,” I say quickly. “But I want to adjust how she trains from now on.”
He lifts his eyes—waiting.
“I’d like to be the one training her.”“So,” he dips a quill into the ink, dripping small, dark stains over the letter as he writes. “Do you want to take on the responsibilities of a lieutenant yourself?” I stand in silence. “Yes.”
The general releases a sigh. “That will put a lot of strain on you,Kazele. I believe Sayna discussed this with you already. Very well, you may train her, but only if Lieutenant Rylan gets to contribute. I don’t want you overworking yourself—”
“Not Rylan,” I interrupt him.
His gaze snaps to me. Then he leans back in his chair. “Not Rylan,” he repeats calmly.
It isn’t a question, but I know he’s waiting for me to explain why. What should I say? He’s ruthless? Inhumane? Reckless? Unfit to even be a lieutenant?
I clear my throat, choosing my words carefully. “His methods do not suit my preferences. If there’s one Lieutenant I’d entrust, it would be Wain.”
He gives a nod. “She did train you after all.”
Not before you did,I want to say.
“If you see fit,” he says. “Then you may train her. I’ll let the remaining lieutenants know what first-years they should focus on instead.”
I nod in thanks.
“You are certain you’ll be able to… break her mind the appropriate way?”
Break her mind.There are moments I’d like to think she’s unbreakable. But if she trained under Rylan, he would only give her back fragmented. And I’m not sure I can stand that. I want her whole.
“Yes,” I say.
“Very well.” He dips the quill again. “Anything else?”
“Alex Moitar.” The name burns in my throat and I feel like gagging. “He’s a Hunter without a unit. I’d like him to be a reinforcement for unit seventeen.”
He raises a brow. “That’s interesting. Why him?”
