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training. He held out his hand to Gordanus, who took the proffered arm and clasped it, hand to forearm.
    Gordanus pulled his friend close and whispered to him, “No matter where you are or what trouble you are in, let me know, and I’ll be there.”
    Alexandros was taken aback by his friend’s words. And here I’ve been thinking that I have been the protector all along.
    “I’ll remember it. And good luck!”
    Gordanus turned sharply and made his way over to the bannerman holding the Vigilant Eaglestandard. The flag rippled in the slight breeze, the silver eagle seemingly alive on the blue background held aloft by the standard’s T-frame. Gordanus saluted crisply, and then Alexandros turned away.
    Good luck, friend .
    He turned and walked the other direction, down to the very end of the courtyard. The eight training companies were arranged in some unknown order, and the Golden Laurel standard occupied the far end of the arrayed units. The delicate leaves of the laurel crown seemed to pop out of the flag’s deep red background.
    He stepped smartly up to the bannerman and commanding officer. Alexandros recalled that the commanding officer was really just an observer, there to record the actions and choices of the crew when facing various situations.
    “Senior Cadet Alexandros, reporting for duty.” He saluted the officer regardless, noticing with interest the man’s choice to sport a beard rather than the clean-shaven appearance common to most members of the imperial military.
    “Welcome to the Laurel Crown Airship Training Cohort, Cadet Alexandros. I am Senior Trainer Hartus Profias.”
    The officer made a mark on the list in front of him with a quill pen. The scratching noise of the pen punctuated the almost unearthly quiet of the courtyard. Alexandros could feel the eyes of many of his new shipmates on his back. Profias looked up at him when he was finished.
    “Please take your spot at the rear, cadet,” he stated firmly but without rancor. Alexandros turned and walked to the back of the training cohort. He placed his bag neatly next to his right foot and stood at attention, eyes staring directly forward. After another brief pause, their officer stepped up and began to pace the front row of the cohort.
    “I am neither a yeller, nor a screamer,” he began. “But if you screw up and damage yourself, your crewmates, or, gods forbid, my ship, you will soon find yourself joining the support crews as they learn how best to tie an airship to the ground.” His voice was soft but carried, and he had the rapt attention of all the cadets.
    “I’m so very happy that you all decided to show up early. This means we can begin early. Today you will find your assigned crew schedules in the galley. Those schedules will not change unless someone… leaves.” There was a pause as he let the remark sink in.
    “Although I’m sure the academiarumor mill is as strong as ever, I will remind you that I am not obligated to pass any of you. I could care less what family you are from or how much wealth and land they have. If I tell you to scrub my decks, you will do it. Is that understood?”
    The assembled cadets murmured a response.
    “That was pathetic. Try again.”
    “YES, SENIOR TRAINER!” the cadets boomed out.
    “Better. Now, grab your bags and fall into column formation, two abreast. We’ll be walking to the airship.”
    Gathering his things, Alexandros eagerly pushed his way into line. The boys jostled each other, but Alexandros held his ground, securing a space near the center of the column. Profias waited patiently, but stared them down until the movement subsided and the cadets were silent. Giving them a cold glare, Profias waved them forward. Marching in formation, the cadets took the next step forward in their training.

    His Majesty’s Training Ship Imperio was a very long way from the elegant and sleek air warship that was on the recruitment poster, Alexandros decided. No, it is most decidedly the most