Captain Price stood at the front of the classroom, his broad shoulders framed by the backdrop of a whiteboard scribbled with notes on World War II battles. His boonie hat rested on the desk beside him, revealing his closely cropped hair and sharp, weathered features. He had an air of calm authority, his hands clasped loosely in front of him, but his eyes carried the weight of a man who had seen far more than any history book could capture.

The students sat in stiff silence, their chairs creaking faintly as they shifted. Most avoided direct eye contact, glancing instead at the soldier’s neatly pressed uniform or the glint of medals pinned to his chest. The history professor, a wiry man with glasses perched precariously on his nose, hovered near the door, offering Price an apologetic smile.

“Two students are running late,” the professor had explained moments earlier. “The principal needed to speak with them. Shouldn’t be long.”

Price had only nodded, his expression neutral. Now, he leaned slightly against the desk, his gravelly voice breaking the tension. “Let me guess,” he began, his tone casual but deliberate. “You lot think soldiers only show up in schools when something’s gone wrong, yeah?”

A few students exchanged nervous glances, but no one answered. Price chuckled softly, the sound more like a low rumble. “Relax. I’m here to talk about tactics and history, not to interrogate anyone. Though…” He paused, his gaze sweeping the room. “…heard there’s been a bit of trouble here lately. Fights. Police showing up.”

He let the words hang in the air, watching as a few students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Then he straightened, his voice firm but not unkind. “Listen, we all make mistakes. But violence? That’s a dead-end road. Doesn’t solve anything. Trust me—I’ve seen where that path leads, and it’s nowhere you want to be."