Border of the State of Mirage
Tension had reached its breaking point.
Disorganized clusters of people kept forming and dissolving along the border line, swelling like restless tides. Shouts erupted without warning. Argunts flared between frontier soldiers and candidates, the latter demanding imdiate entry onto Mirage territory.
"Behind us, thousands of people are already dying of hunger! Our supplies are gone! If you refuse to let us in, then at least give us sothing to eat!"
"Are you serious? Calamities are hunting us, and you’d rather let us rot here? That’s your answer?!"
"Enough! I’m done with this damn exam! I never signed up for this!"
The demands were anything but unified.
So candidates worried primarily about their own safety, keenly aware of the looming threat posed by the duchy. Others pleaded for dical care and food for the people of Eterniti, exhausted after days of relentless travel. Still others, shattered by successive trials, openly declared their withdrawal, their voices hollow and defeated.
At regular intervals, the voice of an officer echoed through the loudspeakers cold, controlled, and utterly devoid of emotion repeating the sa unyielding order.
"Remain where you are. Do not approach the barriers. We have strict instructions to let no one pass. Wait for the authorities to review your cases."
The ssage, endlessly replayed, imposed a fragile calm, the kind that could fracture at the slightest spark.
"What do we do, young leader ?" one of the knights asked, standing beside Arnaud.
Arnaud clenched his jaw.
His thoughts drifted back to the tense discussion he had held with the border guards shortly after their arrival and to what had followed soon after.
The incessant shouting of the candidates had eventually peeled away the truth for the people of Orion.
Words like "duke," "imminent attack," and "total destruction" spread like wildfire through the camp.
Before long, Arnaud had no choice.
He confird the threat.
He explained the agreent forged with their allies, specifying that they possessed soone powerful enough to rival a duke.
He revealed that Renard had remained behind, conducting guerrilla strikes to slow the enemy’s advance.
To his great surprise, fear was not the prevailing response.
It was fury.
The people demanded weapons. They insisted on fighting.
They proclaid that Eterniti had never relied on alliances to survive, that a re duke could not make their people tremble.
The youngest among them went even further, boasting that their leader could fell such an enemy with a single swing of his axe.
Morale surged to its peak.
Arnaud felt a secret wave of relief but he enforced restraint.
"We wait.
Elizir and the others are already inside.
They’re negotiating for food supplies.
As for the rest, we wait for my father and the knights who stayed behind.
Once they return, we’ll reorganize and face the duchy’s threat properly."
"Understood," the knight replied.
---
While tension simred at the border, a few hundred ters away, inside the sector commander’s office, a different kind of negotiation was unfolding.
Border Command Office
A decorated old officer sat behind his desk, thodically recording the requests presented by four young enforcers.
Fidri, Lucy, Elizir, and Garcia, by virtue of their status as enforcers, had been admitted without obstruction.
Facing the highest-ranking officer of the post, they submitted a detailed list of food supplies and dical provisions required to sustain tens of thousands of refugees.
"Received and recorded. I’ll forward this to headquarters imdiately," the officer muttered as he pressed a stamp onto the docunt.
"But don’t get your hopes up. I guarantee neither delivery nor quantity. Our reserves are limited, and the supply chain is already stretched thin."
"As long as it’s being considered, we’ll be grateful," Elizir replied.
The officer cleared his throat and lowered his voice, as if sharing an open secret.
"Listen. We’re a small state. Resources are scarce. Supporting a crowd of this size is a logistical nightmare. But that’s not the worst part."
He cast a wary glance around the room before continuing.
"What truly worries are the orders that might co down from above. You lot from Internal Affairs should dig into this yourselves. I’ve been around long enough to know that when the air up top starts to stink, it’s never without reason."
"What do you—" Fidri began, but he never finished.
Gunshots rang out outside.
Sharp. asured. Rhythmic.
"What’s going on?" Garcia demanded.
The officer froze, then frowned deeply.
"Ceremonial shots..."
His gaze darkened.
"But for whom?"
Such a display, carried out without his knowledge, promised nothing good.
The answer arrived on its own.
Two generals in full dress uniforms stord in, positioning themselves on either side of the entrance and presenting arms.
In the doorway stood a man in a dark suit, his posture rigid, his authority almost tangible.
The old officer sprang to his feet, pale as death, and saluted with flawless precision.
"Mr. President."
The enforcers straightened imdiately.
"At ease," the president said calmly.
He advanced without sparing them a glance, took the commander’s seat, and whispered a few words into the officer’s ear.
The old man blanched.
The president stood.
"You are the four enforcers assigned to this examination."
He did not wait for confirmation.
"You may stand down. Food supplies and dical assistance will be delivered imdiately. The refugees will be taken under the protection of the State of Mirage."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
"As for the duchy’s attack... troops from the Bureau of Military Affairs will arrive by tomorrow."
He allowed himself a restrained smile.
"Consider this examination concluded."
---
While these words brought the trial to an unofficial close, the real decision had been made much earlier and far away by soone few dared to oppose.
Amid a desolate, inhuman landscape, Marshal Bucarest, director of the Bureau of Military Affairs, gripped his phone tightly.
His face was twisted with rage.
"What has that brat Gramm done this ti?!"
"Hardly appointed, and he’s already turning everything upside down. Calamities are invading our lands, and he dares call this an exam?!"
He stopped abruptly.
"Call Kori. Tell him to take two thousand n and fix this ss imdiately."
A dry laugh escaped him.
"The exam? I don’t give a damn. It’s over. End of story."
The line went dead.
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