The White Renegade (Viral Airwaves) by Claudie Arseneault

CHAPTER ONE

    Seraphin’s squad stood at attention in the Union army’s headquarters, a cold rain drizzling on their beige berets and soaking their uniforms. The other squad members whispered to one another with enthusiasm, but Seraphin couldn’t quite share their excitement. Why get worked up over another change of command? In the eighteen months he’d been in the service, the Union army had assigned his squad to three different generals. They still hadn’t worked out how to best integrate Mikken’s small military force within Ferrys’ bigger army, nor where to distribute the troops. How they thought they could invade Regaria with such a disorganized force was beyond Seraphin. They’d need all the help they could get, and Seraphin was glad to oblige. Now was the time to join the Union, not in ten years when it became stable and no longer needed Regaria’s innovative minds and stout arms.
    Seraphin wiped the rain off his glasses, then fussed with his uniform one last time. His boots shone from all the black wax, there was a perfect crease down the front of his pants from when he’d ironed them, and he’d asked Stern to trim his hair again, despite the fact it already met all criteria. The truth was, no matter how irreproachable his appearance, he would stand out in the crowd. His hair was white as fresh snow, his skin just a tad rosier, and what little blue his eyes had was so pale one could see the veins through it, tinging them with red. And if being albinistic wasn’t enough, his Regarian accent shone through the moment he spoke. Every officer inspection was the same. They all stopped in front of him and questioned his presence in the Union’s militia. At least this time it wasn’t under a burning sun. The last had taken so long, Seraphin’s skin had burnt lobster-red and hurt for a week, and he’d wanted to cry from the constant bright light in his eyes. Rain and clouds were much better in his opinion.
    “Hey, Stern,” he whispered.
    The soldier on his right turned his head just a little. Stern was taller than Seraphin, and the beret hid his blond hair completely. Most squad members avoided Seraphin, but Stern had helped him out from the start. While his sense of humor was a bit lacking, Seraphin appreciated the unwavering support. Not many people ever had his back like that.
    “What is it?”
    “We should take bets on how much of a jerk this one is to me.”
    Stern frowned a little. “Don’t joke about these things. Besides, you know I don’t bet.”
    “You’re too much of a sore loser for that, yeah.”
    Stern seemed about to protest, but their sergeant barked an order. The entire squad fell silent, straightening up and bringing their hands down at each side. The new general was coming, and none of them wanted to be noticed so early on. General Klaus Vermen had a reputation for ruthlessness—both for his enemies and troops. Seraphin’s jaw clenched in apprehension. Although General Vermen might be the right man to pull their army together and end this war, he sounded like a lot of trouble for his one Regarian soldier.
    A tall man stepped into the courtyard, his hands clasped behind his back. His thick eyebrows and pointed jaw turned his scowl into a truly terrifying expression, and Seraphin no longer wondered how he managed to make such an impression on recruits. General Klaus Vermen strode down the line, his broad shoulders squared and his lips pressed into a tight, unhappy line. Soldiers cowered and remained still only out of fear. Seraphin could almost hear the sighs of relief following his passage. The closer Vermen came, the tighter Seraphin ground his teeth together. He stared straight ahead, waiting.
    Of course, the general stopped right in front of him. His flat nose scrunched into a sneer.
    “Can you even shoot, soldier?”
    Heat flushed Seraphin’s cheeks. He wondered just how red they turned—tomato-red was a standard color when he became flustered.
    “Yes sir. I’ll never be