Changes

Ryven deliberated for a few days before he enrolled. The deciding factor in his decision was the promise of both freedom from natural death and the promise of commanding his own ships. The State apparently had overlooked his parentage, and he spent his first year at the Academy adjusting to the rigid set of rules enforced there. He was not trusted by his peers, nor especially liked. He made a few friends, however, but they were not particularly strong or binding. He managed to scrape by in the upper half of his class. His second and third years, his instructors praised his tactical caution, but derided his chaotic impulsiveness and willingness to try reckless tactics. Ryven would always shrug and say, "It's not like I'll be dead for long, anyway."
His fourth and final year was pretty much a blur of small fleet training exercises, which he excelled at. Paradoxically, even though he was a very impulsive and egocentric individual, he flew well with a group. Ryven didn't find this odd, since he'd been doing that shit for twenty-four years.