Will of the Battlefield

Professor Ringo stood before the class with his hands clasped behind his back, dragging his shadow between the sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Classroom Seven.

The old historian looked less like a professor and more like a retired commander. Perhaps he had once been a man of the military during his youth.

History, after all, was little more than the study of humanity’s mistakes.

And humanity has always been exceptionally talented at making mistakes.

He decided it was time to get introductions from his class, getting to know them and having them get to know each other.

Once done, Ringo picked up a piece of chalk.

With swift, elegant movements, he wrote a single number across the blackboard.

"900"

The chalk clicked softly as he set it down. "Who can tell me what this number represents?"

Several hands rose immediately.

Professor Ringo pointed toward a bespectacled boy seated near the front. "Leon."

"The Age of Endless Wars, Professor," the boy answered promptly. "Nine hundred years ago marks the earliest confirmed historical records of modern Aurethia."

"Correct." Professor Ringo nodded approvingly.

He began pacing slowly before the students. "For the last nine centuries, our continent of Aurethia has known conflict almost without interruption."

He gestured toward the giant map hanging behind him. "The borders you see today are not ancient. They are temporary."

A murmur spread through the room.

Ringo continued. "Kingdoms rise and they also fall. Cities flourish, then burn to cinders.

"Noble houses conquer, and they are conquered in turn."

He stopped before the map. "Nine hundred years ago, there were not eight great nations."

His finger tapped against the map of the continent. "There were hundreds."

Even Thane looked interested. Hundreds sounded like an exaggerated number.

"Petty kingdoms. City-states. Tribal confederations. Merchant republics. Religious domains. Warlord territories."

The old professor paused for a moment. "And they fought constantly."

He turned back toward the class. "Three hundred years ago, that endless competition culminated in what historians now call the Great Continental War."

Every student sat straight. Even Thane looked attentive.

This, clearly, was important.

Professor Ringo wrote another figure.

"30%"

"The war lasted eleven years. Every nation participated. Every single one."

The room grew quiet. "No kingdom remained neutral. No family escaped untouched. Several dynasties vanished.

"Thousands of cities that were of priceless importance, or just infamy, were entirely erased from existence.

"Trade collapsed, fertile lands were turned down to waste, and soon after, famine followed."

His voice remained calm. That somehow made the numbers worse.

"When the conflict finally ended, nearly thirty percent of Aurethia’s total population had perished."

Several students inhaled sharply.

Rimon looked horrified.

"Thirty percent?" Sky whispered from across the room.

Professor Ringo nodded. "Men, women, children. Thirty out of every hundred souls. A cruel fact of the past."

Silence settled over the classroom. The old professor allowed it. History deserved silence.

Eventually he resumed. "Before the war, over a hundred sovereign realms existed across the continent."

He tapped the map once more. "When peace finally came, fewer than seven remained truly independent."

Conor raised his hand. "Professor, there are eight nations now, as far as we know."

Professor Ringo smiled slightly. "An excellent observation."

He wrote another date.

"269 A.R."

"Thirty-one years after the Great Continental War ended, internal conflicts tore apart the old Sultanate of Khol."

Several students nodded knowingly. Every child on the continent knew this story.

"The southern territories rebelled. The conflict lasted six years. When it concluded, the Land of Sun, Soland, was born."

He spread his arms. "And thus, the Eight Great Nations of modern Aurethia emerged."

His finger moved across the map as he named them.

"The Great Murak Empire. The Drevlorn Dynasty. Krynova Kingdom. Bentram Kingdom. The Sultanate of Khol. The Land of Sun. The Republic of Tataria. The Khanate of Tharun’kai."

The students repeated the names almost automatically. Everyone knew them. Even Thane was not an exception this time.

Though to his credit, the giant had correctly counted all eight.

Professor Ringo moved toward his desk. "Questions?"

A hand rose immediately. It belonged to Maximilian Goldcaster.

Professor Ringo nodded. "Maximilian."

Max stood. "Professor, what existed before the Age of Endless Wars?"

The old historian paused with an unusual reaction.

For the first time since entering the classroom, Professor Ringo seemed uncertain. The students sensed it immediately.

"An excellent question," Ringo finally said.

"The scholars have debated for centuries." He walked back toward the map. "Everything I have discussed thus far falls within recorded history."

He tapped the number written earlier. "Nine hundred years."

He turned. "Beyond that point lies darkness."

No one spoke as Professor Ringo continued. "We call the era preceding modern records the Void Age."

Simon looked fascinated in his seat, anticipating the answer.

"The reason is simple. There are no records."

Conor blinked. "None?"

"None." Ringo’s voice remained level. "No reliable histories, no governmental archives, no royal genealogies, no census records, nor any sort of military accounts."

The students exchanged uneasy looks. "Entire civilizations simply..."

He searched for the proper word. "Vanish."

Sky raised a hand. "How is that possible?"

Professor Ringo sighed softly. "If we knew, Sky, it would no longer be called the Void Age."

A ripple of laughter moved through the room. The professor allowed himself a faint smile. "Ancient ruins certainly exist. Relics older than nine centuries exist. Structures whose builders are unknown still stand."

Thane immediately thought of the massive ruins near Borderstone.

His father forbade anyone from entering.

"No surviving document, however, predates approximately nine hundred years."

Professor Ringo folded his hands. "It is as though someone intentionally erased history."

The classroom became very still. Nobody laughed or mumbled. Even Thane looked uncomfortable.

Intentional erasure. The words carried negative weight.

"Most reputable scholars avoid speculation," Ringo adjusted his spectacles. "Unfortunately, scholars are human."

Another smile. "Therefore, speculation flourishes."

Several students chuckled. "Theories range from divine punishment to technological catastrophe.

"Some claim the old civilizations destroyed themselves. Others insist the gods and demons intervened.

"Conspiracy theorists argue that certain ancient organizations still preserve forbidden knowledge."

The professor warned softly. "I advise caution regarding such claims."

Simon scribbled furiously.

Max was clearly memorizing every word.

Thane also forgot about his lunch. He was awed by those big words.

Professor Ringo suddenly dismissed the topic. "Enough. Theories are for philosophers. We concern ourselves with facts."

He scanned the room. "Now then. What is the name of the continent upon which we all reside?"

Every hand shot upward, every single one.

Except Thane’s.

Professor Ringo pointed randomly. "Alyssa."

"Aurethia, Professor."

"Correct." He nodded. "Aurethia."

Twenty students repeated the word. Thane remained silent.

Not because he did not know, mostly because everyone else answered too quickly.

Professor Ringo seemed pleased. "Good."

He continued. "History is not merely wars and dates. It is culture, identity, and memory."

He suddenly pointed toward another student. "Tell me. What was the former name of Bentram Kingdom’s capital city?"

Before anyone else could react, a huge hand shot upward.

Professor Ringo blinked. The entire classroom turned.

Thane stood proudly. "Opusland."

The answer came immediately, without any hesitation or doubt.

Professor Ringo stared.

Several students looked impressed. Max even smiled.

Perhaps Thane had been paying attention after all.

Unfortunately, Professor Ringo slowly shook his head. "I’m afraid that is incorrect."

Thane froze. "What?"

"Opusland is the capital’s current name," Professor Ringo adjusted his spectacles. "It was renamed only nineteen years ago by royal decree."

Thane slowly sat down, confusion filling his face.

His father had always called it Opusland. Everyone in Borderstone called it Opusland.

Professor Ringo looked around. "Anyone else?"

Max raised his hand. So did Simon and Sky and nearly everyone else.

Professor Ringo pointed toward Simon. "Moriyam, Professor."

"Correct."

Thane frowned. "Moriyam?"

He had never even heard the word. Around him, students resumed taking notes.

The lesson continued.

Dates of important events, fruitful wars, strategic trade routes, and political alliances.

Thane tried. He truly did. But the words blurred together.

Names became numbers. Numbers became names.

Max wrote page after page.

Simon had apparently begun a second notebook.

Conor seemed comfortable, even Rimon followed along.

Thane looked down at his own parchment.

It contained only three words: "Aurethia. Moriyam. Fish?"

The giant slowly leaned back in his chair. A strange feeling settled inside him, uncomfortable and heavy.

For the first time since arriving at Blue Leaf Academy, Thane felt small.

Not physically. That was impossible. But here, inside this room filled with brilliant minds, noble heirs, and gifted scholars...

He suddenly wondered if he truly belonged. Everyone else seemed to know things, important things.

Things he had never even heard before. They spoke effortlessly, answered confidently, and understood naturally.

Thane clenched his massive hands beneath the desk. Perhaps Father was wrong. Maybe he really was just a dumb brute.

Professor Ringo continued teaching readily without pausing, interacting with the students and answering some of their assumptions and questions.

Outside, sunlight bathed Blue Leaf Academy in warm gold. Inside...

Thane Ironforge, for the first time in his life, began to doubt himself.