Marie sat at the head of the conference room, which had clearly seen quite a lot of use in the three or so weeks that had passed while they were recovering in the Worldshaper’s Divine Kingdom. It was far messier than Aziz had ever seen it before; small piles of books written by famous names in the military sphere hogged three chairs, while a mountain of charts and diagrams had been placed in front of every seat.

Curious, Aziz picked one up, and then nodded to himself. The piece of paper he was holding was designed for calculative sharpshooters in mind; it used basic trigonometry to justify why an aerial troop should aim to be as high as possible in a fight. Other, more practical uses included using math to get a good grasp of how far a high value target with the help of a spotter.

Other treatises, like the emphasis on constant, erratic movement, had been included. Most tellingly, however, was a table that noted the endurance of individual soldiers when they were using multiple artefacts at once.

There were lots of things he could draw from that, but it did seem that the captains of every company were really intending on making Thunderbolt the premier airborne troop. He didn’t mind the competitiveness, but a gentle reminder to not overdo it was definitely on the works. The last thing he wanted to see as the vice-commander of Thunderbolt was injuries that stemmed from over-training, overly-ripe potatoes and overly-zealous fools.

“An impressive amount of work,” Marie murmured. “I wonder how many sleepless nights the kids went through to make this.”

“Can’t call them kids anymore, Marie.” Aziz closed his eyes. “If you ask me, they are qualified commanders in their own right. We could retire now, and we’ll see more and more Thunderbolts pop up anyway.”

“And we’ll have a little revolt on our hands,” Marie replied.

Aziz grinned. “You’ve learnt to be a bit more accepting of the truth. I suppose you should stay, at least. I’ll go retire. I think I’ve enough salary that isn’t unclaimed to make me happy for the rest of my life.”

“No can do, colonel. I’ll make sure your paperwork never sees the light of day.” Marie stuck a tongue out, a look of glee in her eyes.

In that fashion, the two continued to banter back and forth, cracking jokes and making wry observations about the sheer amount of pressure Thunderbolt was feeling. Funnily enough, issues with discipline had fallen to an all-time low, which was nothing short of a pleasant surprise. Aziz had half-expected to see a near-riot, so the absence of paperwork in this section was nothing short of great.

The duo was going through a paper exploring the types of artefacts that could be added onto a standard Thunderbolt loadout when the door to the conference room opened. The captains of Thunderbolt Battalion strode in, flanked by their respective vice-captains.

“Good evening, marshal!” Saluting crisply, the captains looked at Marie and Aziz, their eyes hopeful.

The two returned the salute, and Marie nodded. “At ease, ladies and gentlemen. Great effort so far; I didn’t expect Thunderbolt to grow this much in my short absence.”

“We heard you went to the Great Divide, ma’am,” Hans said. “What was it like over there?”

“Rumour had it that you were injured,” Schnee added on. “Did the demons already break through?”

Aziz looked at the chattering crowd, and then clapped his hands twice. Silence fell immediately as fearful eyes turned to him. “Marshal, should I…?”

“Go ahead,” Marie replied.

“Yes, we went to the Great Divide. Everything went quite smoothly, until we saw a demon. Things happened, and we found ourselves recuperating for a week or so afterwards,” Aziz said.

Marie rolled her eyes. “You might as well have not said anything. But I suppose this is the only way we can say it without throwing everyone else into the brig for knowing secrets they shouldn’t. But yes, it’s pretty much a secret, and until you guys get better clearance, I’m not going to say anything.”

“Now,” she continued, “I understand that the battalion is feeling pressure from the rising standards of Stardust. I would like to remind everyone present, however, that overdoing things for the sake of overdoing isn’t going to help much. I’ve looked through the timetables and the activity logs, and I think holding trainings like these consecutively is a bad idea.”

“We’ve tried to dial it done, marshal,” Schnee replied, playing with her hair a moment later. “But…”

“But?”

“The troops weren’t having any of it. Even if we told them to rest in bunk, they would show up and try to train anyway. They’re really committed in maintaining Thunderbolt’s reputation.”

“Are these guys really the troops we trained?” Aziz shook his head. “Last I checked, they weren’t happy with training at all. Did something else happen while we weren’t around?”

The captains looked at each other. “Nope, nothing.”

“Is that so?” Aziz narrowed his eyes. It was probably some little bet they had with the officers of Stardust, so he decided to let them have their fun. Most likely, it was something along the lines of the losers treating the winners to food, judging from their serious and severe expressions.

Maybe their wine was at stake too.

But at the heart of it all, it was probably pride. Aziz knew that better than anyone else in this room; in the opening stages of the Second Extermination, unit commanders would stoke competitive feelings to make sure that their troops returned to tell the tale. Death was something to be feared, and losing a bet by dying just made it all so much worse.

Of course, it could go either way, but from how the officers replied, Aziz wasn’t that concerned.

“I see,” said Marie. “When can I expect those reasons to show up on my desk?”

“An hour before lights out, ma’am.”

“Very well.” She surveyed the troops. “Make sure not to overdo it. Dismissed. Company commanders, stay behind. We have a new assignment coming up.”

The vice-commanders saluted and filed out neatly.

“Assignment?” Augustus asked.

“Yes.” Her eyes twinkled. “The first joint mission between Stardust and Thunderbolt.”