"What are you staring at?" his professor mumbled, sprawled lazily across the grass as he popped a chocolate into his mouth. Beside him, a scattered pile of intricately wrapped gifts gleamed in the sunlight, their ribbons glinting like they'd been plucked straight from a luxury boutique.
Ezra frowned, arms folding. "Did you steal these?"
There was no way this drunkard could afford gifts like that.
The professor didn't even glance up, chewing leisurely on a piece of cake. "Boy, I could buy this entire school if I wanted to."
Ezra scoffed. "Sure, sure. You're probably the poorest one here."
The words had barely left his mouth before a fork whizzed past his head, thudding into the ground just inches from his cheek.
He blinked. Slowly. Then turned back, meeting his professor's unimpressed stare.
"So… did Eli train you well?" the man asked, stretching lazily before gathering his long, tangled green hair and tying it into a loose bun.
Ezra stiffened. "How do you know him?" he asked warily, the lightness draining from his voice.
'Why would Captain Eli associate with someone like him?'
The professor gave him a deadpan look. "Maybe because he was my student…"
Ezra's thoughts stalled. 'What?'
"I honestly can't believe you think so lowly of me," the professor continued, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Do you even know who I am? Just look at this handsome face."
Ezra gave him a long, unimpressed stare. "Yeah. I'm looking. Still don't see any 'handsome face.'"
The professor immediately turned to the nearest polished surface, frowning at his reflection. His scruffy stubble, rumpled clothes, and unkempt hair weren't exactly working in his favor.
"…Okay, wait," he muttered, rubbing his chin. "Maybe it's just 'cause I'm lazy. Bad family history, y'know?"
Then he looked back at Ezra with sudden seriousness. "But if I actually took care of myself? I'd be the most handsome guy here. Get it?"
Ezra just stared at him.
But something caught his ear. Barely there—like a whisper under the surface.
The way his professor rolled his R's, the slight hitch in his shortened vowels, like syllables trimmed before they fully settled. His accent was subtle—almost unnoticeable—but now that Ezra had heard it, he couldn't un-hear it.
He wasn't from here. Not originally.
——
Dane and Irene had escorted him back to Blackspire after Eli had left. The ride was lively, filled with Dane cracking jokes and Irene casually giving him inside stories about the squad.
Apparently, Dane snored so loudly that no one wanted to room with him. Captain Eli had a borderline unhealthy obsession with tea. And Rook? He spent most of his free time tending to flowers, despite looking like he could punch through a mountain.
Ezra found himself unexpectedly at ease with them, the banter making the ride back feel shorter than expected. Before he knew it, they were standing at the towering gates of the military academy.
Dane clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, kid. The Ember Games are in a month. It's gonna be broadcasted all over Arcanis." His grin widened. "Make us proud and take the win. Maybe then we'll drag you along on some more cool missions, yeah?"
Before Ezra could respond, Irene grabbed his shoulders and shook him back and forth. "And try not to die while you're at it!" she added brightly.
Ezra groaned, barely keeping himself from stumbling when she let go.
Irene turned toward the academy's massive walls, eyes widening. "Damn. So this is the military academy, huh? It's huge." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Do you think it's haunted?"
Ezra snorted. "No ghosts so far."
Irene sighed dramatically, crossing her arms. "Damn. That's disappointing."