A Mall is always Prepared

After a bit of small talk, Balair and Dustin stood to drop off their empty trays.

"So, what's the order of business?" Balair asked as they walked toward the wash area.

"Well, there's a lot to get done. We'll have to visit Sergeant Hansen's office first before we can begin, though," Dustin replied, a slight smile surfacing at the workload ahead.

"So Sergeant Hansen it is, then. Let's go!" Balair said, quickening his steps as he walked ahead of Dustin, almost as if telling him to drop his majestic way of walking.

"We're not getting anything done today if Squad Leader Dustin keeps moving at that pace!" he added, taunting him.

"That is an unsightly way to walk. You can go ahead—I'll catch up. No worries," Dustin replied, deflecting the jab as he maintained his measured pace, forcing Balair to slow down.

"Ugh, you really are boring, you know!" Balair groaned, pouting with slumped shoulders.

"And I have a lot to teach you about etiquette," Dustin shot back—almost under his breath, but just loud enough for Balair to hear, nearly laughing.

"Well, you need to learn how to live, bro!" Balair exclaimed in protest, their trays clacking as they dropped them off before walking out of the Mess Hall to begin their day.

"Hold on a minute," Dustin said, stopping just outside the Mess Hall.

"We were supposed to meet up with Torren after the meal. I'll need to contact him."

He raised his AulWris to his face, activating the mental interface and opening a channel through the platoon's communication system.

"Hey Torren, we're done at the Mess Hall. Where can we meet?" Dustin sent through the link.

"Is that still with you?" Torren replied, still clearly not heeding Dustin's previous warnings.

Dustin didn't bother correcting him again. He knew it wouldn't help. Besides, escalating things now would only make platoon work more difficult later.

"Yes, I'm still with him. Does that change anything?"

"We'll have to work separately, then. Once we finish all the filing, we'll meet up with the rest of the platoon and carry on from there."

"Okay then. See you later."

Dustin lowered his hand and turned to Balair.

"Well, he seems busy. We can continue without him. I've already created a detailed plan outlining what we need to do and how we'll do it. Give me your AulWris ID so I can send it to you." He said not wanting to bring up his talk with Torren.

"Wait, what? How'd you do that—I mean, when? We've been together this whole time!" Balair exclaimed, shocked by Dustin's competence and efficiency.

"Your ID?" Dustin asked again, tilting his head toward Balair and raising his brows. He clearly wasn't going to start explaining his work process.

"Oh, it's 233C-HESKELL-LR00," Balair replied, still silently pondering how Dustin had pulled it off.

"Okay, sent. Let's get going. You can go through it while we head to the sergeant's office," Dustin said as he finally lowered his hand and started walking down the hallway toward the exit.

"Oh, urmm... okay," Balair stuttered, following after him, his rubber boots squeaking softly with each step—unlike Dustin's quiet, composed stride.

"Wait, hold up. Are you sure you're actually fifteen?" Balair asked, catching up. "I mean, I heard the other cadets say you entered early for a noble, but this chart I'm seeing here? It's way too detailed to be something someone our age could whip up."

"If anyone's age needs to be questioned, it's yours, Balair," Dustin said, chuckling. "I mean, just look at that body of yours. And even more surprising—you're a Medium, not even an Augmentor. Yet you held back that spiritually induced punch earlier using just raw strength, no spiritual energy."

He shook his head with a grin. "You're too strange to be surprised about me making a simple schedule."

They exited the recreation center and began walking toward the office area. Dustin fell silent for a moment, as though thinking deeply about what his friend had just said.

Eventually, he spoke again. "Look, the children of House Mall are taught from a very young age to become leaders—to be self-reliant and steadfast in achieving our goals. We're also taught to use every tool in our vicinity to do so. So if I've been training like that since I was three… wouldn't it be even stranger if I couldn't do at least this much?" Dustin said breaking the silence also answering Balair's previous question.

Balair looked up at Dustin, his silver-white hair glinting under the sun. He seemed genuinely astonished by Dustin's capability.

"Sorry if my comment on your age angered you," he said, apologetic. "I was just caught off guard… I'm good now."

"It's alright. I wasn't offended," Dustin replied calmly as he pushed the door open and stepped into a large building with the words Personnel Office Building etched above the entrance.

Just a few meters in, Dustin stopped beside a wall-mounted map to confirm the location of Sergeant Hansen's office. Once he had it, he continued walking, leading the way. The hallway was quiet—unusually so. Until they reached the office door in near silence.

Then, Balair spoke up.

"When we finish everything we have to do today, why don't we head to the gym?" he said suddenly. "There's something important I want to tell you… when we get there."

Dustin glanced back at him, surprised by the change in tone.

"Alright. I have no objections. Let's get this done first." A small smile tugged at his lips as he knocked on the sergeant's door.

From inside came a faint yawn, followed by a lazy, grumpy voice.

"Come in."

It was unmistakably Sergeant Hansen.

Dustin pushed the door open. Light from the hallway spilled into the dim room, and a strong gust of cold air rushed out to meet them. He shivered involuntarily, taken off guard by the chill. Balair, by contrast, didn't even flinch. Not a muscle moved.

Just what is this guy…? Dustin wondered, masking his discomfort by drawing a light veil of spiritual energy around himself—an invisible blanket of warmth. He was also caught off guard by the number of files stacked along the walls and scattered across the floor of the office.

.

"...The door... Close the door," Sergeant Hansen groaned, barely lifting his head as he gestured weakly toward the entrance.

Balair complied, pulling the door shut with a soft click before carefully making his way back to Dustin's side. As he moved, his boots stepped on a few scattered files, their soft crumpling the only sound breaking the silence of the room.

"Ugh. It's you again," the sergeant muttered, now slouched over his desk with his head cradled in his arms as he remembered Balair the one who woke him up on the field.