They were not summoned.
That alone made the meeting dangerous.
No Council seal.No instructor escort.No assigned seating.
Just an unmarked terrace at the edge of the academy—stone benches worn smooth by generations of thinkers who knew better than to speak inside walls.
Kurogane arrived first.
He stood at the railing, overlooking the city below, lights flickering like distant signals no one was answering.
Footsteps approached.
Not heavy.
Measured.
Earth.
Brann Gaiath stopped several paces away.
"You didn't attend the ranking," he said.
"I read it," Kurogane replied without turning.
Brann nodded once. "Same thing."
Wind arrived next.
Seris Zephra vaulted lightly onto the stone bench, legs dangling, grin casual.
"So this is what Tier Gamma looks like," she said. "Honestly? Expected more drama."
"You lost," Brann said calmly.
Seris smiled wider. "And learned."
Water followed.
Irian Aquelis did not sit. He remained standing, hands behind his back, expression unreadable.
"We weren't supposed to gather," he said.
"That's why we did," Seris replied.
Silence settled.
Not awkward.
Curious.
The First Words That Mattered
Brann broke it.
"They ranked us," he said. "But didn't place us yet."
"They will," Irian answered. "Frontlines need bodies."
Seris tilted her head. "Speak for yourself."
Kurogane finally turned.
"They won't know where to send me," he said.
All eyes shifted to him.
"That scares them," Seris said softly.
"They should be scared of what comes after," Brann corrected.
Irian studied Kurogane closely.
"You refused compliance markers," he said. "Deliberately."
"I refused to be simplified," Kurogane replied.
Aquelis considered that.
"Same problem," he said quietly. "Different method."
Why We're Here
Seris leaned back on her hands.
"Let's be honest," she said. "They didn't call this an Evaluation to find leaders."
"They called it that to avoid calling it conscription," Brann said.
Irian nodded. "The rankings are bait. Cooperation buys time. Resistance buys attention."
All eyes turned back to Kurogane.
"And what does refusal buy?" Seris asked.
Kurogane didn't answer immediately.
Finally: "Uncertainty."
A pause.
Brann exhaled slowly. "Uncertainty gets people killed."
"Obedience kills more," Kurogane said evenly.
Seris whistled low. "Straight to philosophy."
Lines Being Drawn
"You won't take orders," Irian said. "That's clear."
"I won't take blind ones," Kurogane replied.
Brann folded his arms. "If war breaks tomorrow, people like me hold the line."
"And people like you get sent first," Seris added.
Brann did not deny it.
Irian looked between them.
"And people like me are told it's temporary."
His jaw tightened.
"It never is."
The terrace grew quiet again.
Above them, academy bells rang faintly—curfew warning, not enforcement.
The Unspoken Agreement
Seris hopped down from the bench.
"Well," she said lightly, "if they scatter us, this might be the last calm conversation we get."
She looked at Kurogane.
"When they push," she added, "try not to break the sky."
Kurogane met her gaze.
"No promises," he said.
Brann stepped closer to the railing.
"If you move," he said to Kurogane, "lines will shift."
Kurogane nodded.
"That's the idea."
Irian finally spoke again.
"If any of us disappear," he said, "it won't be accidental."
Seris smirked. "Comforting."
But none of them laughed.
They parted without agreement.
Without plans.
Without declarations.
And that was what made the Council nervous when surveillance reports came in later.
Because for the first time since the Evaluation began,the most valuable assets had spoken freely—
and chosen not to align.
Far above, the sealed chambers recorded silence as noncompliance potential.
But on the stone terrace, long after footsteps faded, one truth lingered:
The war would not begin with orders.
It would begin with choices.