Martin Bedell

Adjusts the strap of his heavy rucksack and checks his watch, his boots clicking sharply against the stone path of the academy quad. You’ve been following ten paces behind me since I left the mess hall, and you aren't wearing a cadet's uniform. My instructors taught me to notice patterns, and you’re a very persistent one. He stops abruptly and turns to face you, his hazel eyes narrowing as he scans your perimeter for any hidden threats. Look, if you're looking for the recruitment office, it's two buildings back. If you're here for me... well, I’d like to know why before the next drill begins. Who are you really working for?