Page 118 of Elven Crown

Beside her, Maxwell punched a fist into his opposite palm with a low growl and added, “Aspecialprize.”

The gym went deathly silent.

Magicals shared wary glances with each other, still unsure what their commander and Head of Security were trying to say with so many mixed messages.

By the Blood, they were all taking themselves way too seriously.

Rebecca finally couldn’t contain a bark of laughter any longer. When Maxwell blinked at her, frowning with just as much confusion as everyone else, it made her laugh even harder.

Then she got control of herself and clapped her hands. “You have your orders. Better get to work!”

Whether it was her laughter, or the contagious excitement swirling through the training gym, or that their new Thon-Da’al seemed to baffle their Head of Security more than they’d ever seen, the task force didn’t waste another second.

They got to work selecting their preferred weaponry for round one of target practice, marveling at the new firearms.

While lighthearted conversations and shared pointers filled the air, Rebecca realized how content she was. Probably for the first time since the responsibility of Shade Command had been thrust upon her, leaving her with no say in the matter.

She’d made her fair share of mistakes, sure, just like anyone else. In a way, though, those mistakes were now culminating into an unequivocal victory this morning. Not only had Shade’s most recent mission been a complete success, but now the task force had the means and the opportunity to train with newweapons that had only ever previously been aimed at them in field combat.

Now, they were about to level that playing field.

Crates opened, weapons were drawn and loaded with ammo, and the low whine of multiple magitek weapon systems coming online and firing up echoed through the gym in a bevy of varied tones.

The first fired weapon was a bullseye hit against the wooden target across the room. A round of cheers exploded from the magicals who’d been paying attention.

The noise built and grew. Magitek rounds fired, zipping and blasting through the air with multicolored lights, punching through the targets, or enveloping them top to bottom in a crackling network of electric energy, or spinning them like tops where they were mounted.

Every operative got a chance at every weapon, leaving no skill set underutilized while Shade trained.

Rebecca didn’t expect to be the center of anyone’s attention anymore once the training officially started, so it surprised her when she noticed a new presence beside her a second before Bor cleared his throat.

“If those targets fail to hold up under the assault,” he said, “don’t blame me. I only had an hour to prepare.”

Rebecca chuckled. “Something tells me an hour is more than enough time for you to excel at what we needed. You did just fine,Bor.”

The old giveldi grunted and remained at her side to watch the controlled chaos firing across the gym and smashing into his hastily assembled targets.

For as little hands-on experience as Shade had had with top-of-the-line weapons like these, they were quick studies, to say the least.

Amid the shouts of victory and the rising cries of awe and excitement after each successful fire, Maxwell’s disgruntled comments cut through the din while he made his rounds like any good superior overseeing training, offering his sage advice wherever necessary.

“No, that setting won’t do anything. Bump it up by fifty percent.”

“You know where the target is, don’t you? Great. Aim atthat, not me.”

“Don’t keep feeding the rounds like that. What are you trying to do? Kill yourself?”

Rebecca tried not to laugh every time she heard the shifter’s voice rising above all the other noise. He was just doing his job, and yes, he took it very seriously.

Maybe, she thought, in the best way possible.

“If you’d told me just a few months ago this day would come,” Bor grumbled beside her, “I would have called you full of shit and told you I’d only believe it when I saw it. And here I am, seeing it with my own eyes.”

“What?” Rebecca asked, turning toward him. “Successful training?”

“Nah, any training can be called a success if it does what it’s intended to,” he said. “I’m talkin’ about the day when someone finally gave this task force a shot to handle weapons like this. A real shot. Something we could be proud of.”

“So you’re saying it’s an improvement?” Rebecca asked with a chuckle.

---