"Take this letter, Black Sable, then go back. Remember to get up early tomorrow. The Departmento Munitorum's ship won't wait for you."
The young man in a reserve officer's uniform bent down and picked up the letter from his teacher's desk, pinching it in one hand. He gave a perfectly standard military salute, then turned and left.
The corridors of Loyal Heirs Academy's administrative building were empty at this hour. His footsteps echoed monotonously, like the second hand of a clock—precise and swift. The last rays of the setting sun pierced the thick bulletproof glass and stubbornly spilled over him, dyeing half his face an exaggerated gold.
He clearly disliked it, so he quickened his pace and hurried back to his dormitory—every reservist was given a small space like this until they completed their studies, graduated with outstanding results, and were assigned to different units.
The academy was generous to them. Though the dormitories were small, each came equipped with an independent air purification system and high-grade security and anti-theft measures. The interior decor could be freely chosen, and there were even twenty-six different pillow styles to choose from.
Vitus Black Sable had chosen none of them. In fact, finding a proper bed too troublesome, he had replaced his with a folding cot made from synthetic materials.
It required no cleaning, was exceptionally sturdy, and its undulating curves cleverly took over some of a pillow's function. But for that very reason, lying on it was far from pleasant. Many veterans who had slept on similar cots had bluntly said they would rather sleep on the floor than use one.
Vitus, however, did not care.
To him, sleep was merely a necessary means of restoring his energy. If possible, he wished he could spend all twenty-four Terra hours of every day