The hum of the dirigible engines was distant, muffled by the thick steel walls of the Aetherwing Brigade's central command room. General Elara Windrider paced in front of the broad windows, her stern gaze fixed on the skyline that stretched out in storm-laden grays and blues. She barely registered Rupert as he entered, his quiet, unassuming steps contrasting with the restless energy in her stance.

He cleared his throat, but she didn't turn to greet him.

"Rupert," she began, her voice sharp. "You have gone absolutely barking mad."

Rupert tilted his head, his eyes glinting with something that might have been amusement or just unshakable resolve. "Good evening to you, too, Elara."

Elara finally looked at him, arms crossed over her chest. She was as imposing as always, her uniform crisp and precise, medals gleaming over her heart. The streaks of silver in her hair added a certain gravity to her presence, a reminder of the decades she had spent keeping the peace in the skies.

"Let's not dance around the point," she said, barely containing her irritation. "Squad Fourteen is unprecedented in the history of the Brigade. You know the regulations as well as I do. We've never once fielded a squad of recruits from such different backgrounds—different species, no less."

"Perhaps that's exactly why we need them," Rupert replied calmly, letting the weight of his words settle between them.

"Do you have any idea how many complaints I've fielded from the council, the High Mages, even the Elven Elders?" Elara's tone sharpened. "They think you're building an unstable, unpredictable squad. We're supposed to uphold peace—not toy with volatile dynamics that could explode mid-mission."

Rupert took a step forward, his expression hardening. "They're not a toy, Elara. They're a necessity. And I would think that after all these years, you'd trust my judgment on what the Brigade truly needs."

She sighed, her gaze slipping to the map stretched across the table, marked with pins and inked notes detailing recent skirmishes and unrest.

"Trust has nothing to do with it," she murmured, a rare hint of vulnerability surfacing in her tone. "It's about risk. I can't ignore the danger in putting together a squad that could just as easily tear itself apart as it could succeed."

Rupert allowed a small, wry smile. "Exactly. That's the whole point. If they can't trust each other in the skies, then what hope is there for peace on the ground? They're not just a team, Elara. They're a symbol. We need this—people need to see that peace can exist between species, between magical factions."

Elara's mouth twisted in a doubtful line, but she didn't look away. "A symbol." She echoed the word as if testing its weight. "Symbols don't hold the line when chaos erupts, Rupert. Soldiers do."

"They're soldiers, too," Rupert said, and his voice was softer now, tempered with something almost like empathy. "Or they will be, once they understand why they're together. Kai, Isaac, Bayu, Tomoya... they each have something to prove. They each carry burdens that could either tear them down or forge them into something unstoppable."

Elara's gaze darkened. "You're placing a lot of faith in them. Blind faith, I'd call it. And if it doesn't work—if it fails—"

Rupert held up a hand. "Then you can fire me, and I'll walk away. I promise you that, Elara."

She raised an eyebrow, studying him carefully. There was a weariness in her expression, a hint of the years she'd spent balancing on the razor's edge of diplomacy and battle. But there was also a flicker of something else—something that recognized the determination in Rupert's eyes.

After a long silence, she shook her head and laughed bitterly. "You always were stubborn."

"Stubborn enough to make a difference," he replied, his gaze steady.

The two of them stood in silence for a moment, watching the clouds gathering on the horizon, dark and rolling, as if they too sensed the storm of change brewing within the Brigade.

Elara's voice softened, her words more reflective. "Do you really believe they can succeed? They're young, untested... barely more than strangers to each other."

Rupert's gaze held a quiet conviction. "It's not about whether they're ready or not. It's about giving them a chance to become something greater. They're not like any squad before them—and that's exactly what we need."

She didn't reply, though her expression showed the weight of her thoughts. Elara was practical, a master strategist who seldom dealt in ideals. But Rupert knew she wasn't without hope for a better future, even if she wouldn't admit it openly.

"Fine," she said at last, her tone almost resigned. "We'll try it your way. But if even a hint of trouble arises, I'll pull Squad Fourteen out, no questions asked. We can't afford to let your experiment undermine everything we've built here."

Rupert nodded, accepting the condition with unspoken gratitude. "That's all I'm asking, Elara. A chance."

Elara looked at him one last time, the corners of her mouth lifting in a faint smile. "I suppose we've both risked more for far less likely causes."

With that, she turned, signaling the end of the conversation. Rupert stayed behind, glancing once more at the map, his mind already on the recruits he had pinned his hopes on.

Kai, Isaac, Bayu, Tomoya. Four recruits from different worlds, different histories, yet united by a future they could neither predict nor escape.