The four cadets sat in a loose circle on the floor of Cane's room, carefully slicing uniform squares from a log of Living Wood propped in the corner. Even with the window flung wide open, the clinging sweetness had become almost too much—especially for the room's usual occupant.
Clara, however, breathed it in with delight. "I was fitted for the glove portion of this focal… thanks again for helping me."
Dhalia smiled patiently while Cane and Fergis exchanged a look—she'd said that four times already in as many minutes.
"This is the last piece for our squad," Cane said, brushing shavings into a bowl. "I can't wait to see your crowd control in action."
Fergis slid his freshly cut stack of squares into Cane's growing pile. "We've picked up an escort mission, so we have to be ready. We've only limited time for last-minute tweaks."
Dhalia's gaze drifted between the two men. "Seeing how fast you both moved during the festival… makes me wonder if Clara and I are just dead weight."
Clara stared down at the floor, the usual brightness in her freckled face dimming. "That thought's crossed my mind too."
Cane shook his head and leaned over to ruffle Clara's hair, grinning until she cracked a smile. "We'll need heals and crowd control. Trust me, you both matter. Big time."
He turned to the stack beside him. "I'm upgrading your battle robes too—interwoven adamantium with Glacial Frost rune. Did you see what Gryphon Company pulled off with theirs?"
"They were incredible," Clara said, her voice rising with excitement. "I'll do my best. My Guayanar seed's fully infused now… are you almost ready to construct the focal?"
"Tomorrow," Cane said. "Once that's done, we'll run a few short excursions. Work out the kinks before the mission starts."
"Did you show them?" Fergis asked, nodding toward the bed.
Cane reached beneath it and pulled out a leatherbound journal, weathered but well-kept. "Meya Rowe's team journal. From her Academy days—every mission, insight, and squad tactic she ever logged."
"First Knight Rowe?" Clara's eyes went wide with awe. "How did you even get that?"
"This used to be her room," Cane said, passing her a copper ring. "She had a stash hidden behind the wall. This was hers, too—a spatial storage ring. I've been loading supplies into it ever since we took the mission."
Clara held it like something sacred. "I can't believe I'm touching her ring… it feels like an engagement or something."
Fergis shot a serious look at Cane.
Then both of them cracked up.
"Did you see that Elf Commander?" Clara shook her head. "If I looked like that, I'd probably spend all day staring into the mirror."
Cane chuckled. "That's dramatic. I think it's just the novelty of her presence. Besides… there's a lot to be said for warmth and humor."
Fergis nodded thoughtfully. "First Knight Rowe's almost as attractive as Commander Moriwynn."
"Well…" A voice rang from the open door, dry and amused. "Almost? Where's the loyalty?"
Meya Rowe stood in the doorway, dressed in civilian clothes and smiling wide. Without her divine plate armor, she looked relaxed, grounded—almost familiar.
Cane stood quickly. "What are you doing here?"
Meya crossed the room in two strides and hugged him tightly, eyes shut. She kissed both his cheeks before hugging him again, firm enough that anyone not trained on an anvil might've cracked a rib. "Thank you, Cane."
He blinked. "I opened your stash," he said, holding up the copper ring. "Please don't tell me you came to collect."
She laughed and shook her head, settling onto the bed and glancing around the space. "Seven Tower… ten years later and it still feels like home."
"Well, you can't stay," Cane deadpanned.
Meya grinned. "Is this your team?"
She'd already met Fergis. Now her eyes swept over the girls, appraising but kind. "Water and wood elements… healer and control?"
"Yeah," Cane said. Of course she'd figure it out that quickly.
Meya picked up the leather journal and flipped to the first page, fingers brushing over a drawing and a scrawled message: Best group ever.
"You're a pretty good artist," Dhalia noted, while Clara sat silently beside her, eyes shining with quiet awe.
Meya tapped the illustration. "That's Sahmi. Psi telekinetic. We were going to get married after the Academy. The archer here—Rholo—funniest person I ever knew. The last one… Yavina. My older sister. Empath. Beast master."
No one spoke. The mood shifted, memory turning heavy.
"We were assigned to the same unit. Back when the war was still small." Her expression darkened. "I was out on a recon mission when the Black Legion struck. When I got back… they were gone."
Cane didn't hesitate. He wrapped her in a firm hug, remembering Jonas and the quiet, aching weight that kind of loss left behind.
She hugged back. "I came here to thank you, Cane. What you did—Cane's Folly—it ended a legion. If you never do another thing with your life, that alone would be enough."
He pulled away with a half-smile. "So I can slack off now? That's what I'm hearing."
Meya wiped her eyes, laughing. "You're so dumb."
She slung an arm around his shoulder. "I heard the two of you were fighting again."
"We were attacked," Fergis said with mock indignation. "Not our fault."
"Right, not our fault," Cane echoed. "It was touch and go for a while. Might've been a different story if Gryphon Company hadn't been back on shore leave."
Fergis grimaced, nodding. "Yeah. Without them, we would've been in real trouble. Probably would've lost people."
"I still don't know how Commander Moriwynn fought those shadow wraiths," he added. "I could barely follow their movements."
"It's the Zuni Empire's only answer to the elves," Meya said, her jaw tightening. "Souls of our own heroes—captured by dark magic and turned to nefarious purpose."
Clara's freckled face went pale. "The Zuni… capture souls?"
"There's a rune called Soul Shield," Meya said, meeting her eyes. "If you ever get deployed, make sure you have it."
She ran a hand across the headboard, then glanced at Cane. "You replaced the furniture in here?"
Cane nodded. "Yeah. Someone bought four of my Saltfang blades, so I made a few purchases."
Meya laughed, a rich, almost disbelieving sound. "Now that word of Cane's Folly is spreading, those four swords I bought from you? They're probably worth thirty thousand platinum."
"Speaking of platinum," Fergis cut in, glancing at Cane. "I heard you sold that Platinum Glacial Frost dress to Commander Moriwynn."
"Platinum?" Meya raised an eyebrow. "Infused like the Interwoven Adamantium robes?"
Cane nodded. "Same process. I even etched a Glacial Frost rune into it."
"How much did you get, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Five thousand platinum," Cane said. "Sergeant Labyrinth told me Moriwynn wanted the dress and would pay whatever I asked. I just threw out a number… didn't think she'd actually say yes."
Meya snorted. "You gave her a great deal."
Cane shrugged. "It's not like I can't make more. I even gave Lorna Sweetwater a thousand platinum as commission—she designed the original dress."
Meya's eyes softened. "Of course you did. Where are you from, Cane?"
The room quieted. The other cadets turned toward him, suddenly realizing something—they didn't know. No hometown, no family stories, no real past.
"Port city called Loramo," Cane answered casually.
Meya reached for a ring on her finger—exquisite, set with a diamond that shimmered faintly. With a flick of her hand, a dress appeared out of thin air, neatly folded. She placed it on the bed, along with a small stack of platinum coins.
"Could I see the process you used to make the Glacial Dress?" she asked.
Cane ignored the question, eyes on the ring. "That's a spatial storage ring?"
Meya nodded. "Much larger than most. Fairly common, but expensive. The copper one I left here is worth around a hundred platinum. This one? Closer to ten thousand. I keep everything in it—even spare furniture."
Cane looked at the dress she'd placed on the bed. It was formal—silken, elegant—something meant for a ball or royal gathering.
"One dress," he said. "Since the stash you left behind is going to help us a lot."
Meya clapped her hands. "Done!"