Will of the Battlefield

If Professor Ringo’s history lesson had been a battlefield, then Thane Ironforge would have perished twelve times at the very least.

By the time the morning classes ended, the giant’s eyes were wide open...

He had dry beads of sweat on his forehead. His arms and legs were shaking from the fight-or-flight stress.

He looked exactly as though he had survived an actual war.

History had been followed by Bentram Studies, a mandatory subject for all first-year students regardless of their specialization. There, the students learned about the kingdom’s laws, noble hierarchy, trade structure, taxes, geography, and governmental institutions.

Thane had remained awake for exactly thirty-one minutes.

Conor had counted.

The giant had lasted only because the instructor, Lady Maribel, possessed an exceptionally loud voice and an even louder cane, which she delighted in striking against the podium whenever someone lost focus.

Startled, Thane had nearly fallen from his chair twice.

The final combined class had been Current Affairs and Continental Politics.

That one had broken him.

Professor Eldrin, a thin man with spectacles thicker than fortress walls, had spent two uninterrupted hours discussing grain prices in the Republic of Tataria, shifting tribal allegiances within Tharun’kai, and the political implications of the upcoming Grand Aspirant Tournament.

Max had written furiously.

Simon had somehow written even faster.

Sky participated in discussions.

Conor listened attentively.

Rimon struggled but persevered.

Thane had fought valiantly and lost. The giant’s head drooped, rose, and dropped again.

Then, it finally landed upon the desk with enough force to shake three rows.

Professor Eldrin stopped speaking. All students turned.

"Student Thane?"

Thane slowly lifted his head. "Hm?"

"Would you care to share your thoughts on Krynova’s recent military mobilization?"

Thane blinked, and the silence stretched.

Then, he answered honestly. "They should stop moving and sit down."

The classroom erupted into laughter.

Even Professor Eldrin rubbed his forehead; he seemed to be in pain.

By the time the bell finally rang, Thane stumbled from the classroom looking utterly defeated.

"I would rather fight Donovan ten times," he declared.

Max emerged behind him, carrying a mountain of notes. "You say that now."

"No, really. Donovan only punched me."

Simon nodded in agreement. "Professor Eldrin’s lectures are notoriously demanding."

Thane pointed accusingly at him. "You understood everything."

Simon looked embarrassed. "Well... mostly."

"Traitor."

Conor laughed. "Come now, Thane. The day isn’t over."

The giant stared at him. "What do you mean, the day isn’t over?"

"Separate classes."

Thane’s expression slowly crumbled. "No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Haha, yes."

Thane looked toward the sky. "Pops, if you can hear me, please come take me back home."

After a brief midday meal, the first-year students gathered in the central courtyard.

An instructor waited there.

Unlike the scholarly professors from the morning, apart from the scar on his cheek, he looked like a harmless man in his fifties.

A tired-looking man with a scarred face. Three black lines marked his weathered features.

He wore an academic combat uniform.

"Listen carefully," he barked.

"My name is Instructor Garret. From this point onward, strategists and warriors shall separate."

Immediately, movement began.

Max and Simon stepped away from Thane’s group.

Several other students followed them. In total, seven students belonged to the strategist division.

The remaining fourteen were warriors.

Thane frowned. "So you’re leaving?"

Max adjusted his uniform. "We’ll still eat together."

"Oh." The giant looked relieved.

Simon offered an awkward smile. "Good luck."

"You too."

Conor placed a hand upon Max’s shoulder. "Try not to conquer the continent before supper."

Max smirked. "No promises."

The strategists departed toward the northern section of the academy.

Thane watched them leave. "Poor fellows."

Sky raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"They still have classes." Thane sighed.

Sky stared. "Thane... we do, too."

The giant’s shoulders slumped.

Instructor Garret led the warrior students toward the Hall of Arms.

The structure dwarfed every training facility Thane had seen previously.

The enormous hall resembled a fortress more than a classroom.

Weapon racks lined the walls. Training dummies stood in orderly rows.

Sparring circles covered the polished stone floor.

Students from higher years practiced throughout the vast chamber.

Wooden swords clashed, spears whistled, and shouts echoed.

The scent of sweat, leather, and polished steel filled the air.

Thane immediately brightened. "This place is beautiful."

Conor nodded. "Now this feels like an academy."

Instructor Garret stopped at the center. "Every warrior requires a weapon."

He gestured toward the countless racks.

"Sword, spear, polearm, daggers, etc., including any combination thereof."

He folded his arms. "The weapon you choose today will likely shape your future."

Silence settled over the students.

Garret continued. "Choose carefully."

One by one, the students moved. Most choices proved predictable.

Conor selected a longsword, and Sky chose twin short blades.

Rimon hesitated before finally selecting a sword.

Several others picked their weapons. One noble selected a rapier.

Another chose a heavy shield and mace combination.

Then came Thane. The giant wandered between weapon racks thoughtfully.

The swords looked too small, and spears seemed fragile.

He paused before a rack holding massive two-handed axes.

His eyes gleamed. "Oh."

Conor sighed. "That expression worries me."

Thane reached out.

The enormous training axe looked absurdly oversized even among heavy weapons.

To everyone else’s astonishment, the giant lifted it with one hand. Effortlessly.

Instructor Garret’s eyebrows rose.

Thane swung experimentally. A gust of wind swept through the hall.

Several students stumbled backward. "Perfect."

Garret cleared his throat. "An axe user."

He picked one more and replied, "Dual axe user."

"You are insane," Sky commented.

Thane nodded enthusiastically. "It’s almost like a hammer."

"No," Conor said immediately.

"It isn’t."

Thane ignored him.

Elsewhere, within the Strategist Hall, Max stood before a very different assortment of weapons.

Unlike warriors, strategists were not expected to become masters of combat.

Still, every strategist required a means of self-defense.

Instructor Selene observed the students quietly. "Choose."

Most selected practical weapons.

Short swords, daggers. Easy and reliable weapons.

Max walked directly past all of them, his eyes settling upon a peculiar rack.

Twin daggers.

Short-handled and perfectly balanced.

Instructor Selene noticed immediately. "You are interested in dual daggers?"

Max nodded. "My uncle taught me."

Several students looked surprised; dual daggers were uncommon.

The style demanded exceptional coordination, agility, and speed.

Most abandoned it quickly.

"Why daggers?" another student asked.

Max picked up both weapons.

Their weight felt familiar, comforting.

"Everyone expects a strategist to hide behind soldiers." A faint smile touched his lips. "I dislike expectations."

Instructor Selene studied him. Then she smiled. "Interesting."

Across the room, Simon chose a simple arming sword.

Reliable and very ordinary, much like Simon himself.

The first day at Blue Leaf Academy continued.

New friendships formed, old insecurities lingered, and dreams slowly took shape.

And somewhere within the Hall of Arms, Thane Ironforge accidentally shattered his third training dummy, again...

Instructor Garret decided introductions could wait until tomorrow.

The Hall of Arms echoed with the sounds of clashing wood and excited chatter as first-year students inspected their chosen weapons.

Instructor Garret stood near the center, arms crossed over his broad chest. The veteran warrior looked thoroughly unimpressed by the enthusiasm surrounding him.

Truthfully, he was tired.

The academy had resumed only a few days ago, and he had already broken up three fights, confiscated a flask of wine, and watched a first-year attempt to use a spear backward.

He yawned, and then his gaze drifted toward the giant.

Garret narrowed his eyes.

The youth stood nearly a head taller than everyone else, casually twirling an enormous training axe in each hand as though it weighed no more than a walking stick.

"Strange," Garret thought.

The boy looked familiar, very familiar.

He had seen that face somewhere. The instructor scratched the small scar along his jaw. "Where?"

The giant noticed him staring, and their eyes met.

For several seconds, neither spoke. Then recognition flashed across the giant’s face.

"Ah!" Thane exclaimed loudly enough for half the hall to hear. "Creepy-ass old man from the matches."

The entire training hall fell silent.

Conor slowly covered his face with both hands.

Sky’s eyes widened.

Garret blinked. "Huh?" he said intelligently. "Who the hell are you?"

Thane frowned. "You forgot already?"

"I’ve taught students for fifteen years, boy. I forget names before breakfast."

Thane pointed accusingly. "Pervert. I was sitting next to you during the Yearly Aspirant Finals."

Garret’s eyes widened.

For a brief moment, memory returned.

The arena, the big kid, Kitty Kat’s dance.

"Oh." Garret snapped his fingers. "You’re that gay, oversized brat who wasn’t interested in Kitty Kat."

A dreadful silence descended upon the hall. Several students looked utterly confused.

Thane, meanwhile, froze. "What?"

Garret nodded as though solving a great mystery. "That’s right."

"You sat beside me, you kept talking, and you weren’t interested in Kitty Kat. You called others disgusting and perverts."

Recognition slowly gave way to outrage.

Thane’s face reddened. "I never said I was gay!"

Garret shrugged. "You weren’t interested in the prettiest woman in the arena. Reasonable conclusion."

"She had revealing clothes!" Thane protested.

"So?"

"She was vulgar!"

"Yes, and you didn’t like that. What does that mean?"

"...I don’t know."

The instructor snorted. "Thought so."

Conor finally stepped forward. "Instructor, perhaps we should begin today’s lesson?"

Garret ignored him.

He studied Thane carefully. "Thane Ironforge, wasn’t it?"

The giant blinked. "You know my name?"

"The whole continent knows your name." Garret grinned. "Besides, not many first-years punch people through arenas."

Thane brightened immediately. "Oh! You watched my fights?"

"No, I watched you lose in a maze."

The giant’s expression darkened. "That maze cheated."

Laughter spread through the hall.

Even Garret chuckled.

Most first-years either feared instructors or tried too hard to impress them.

Thane did neither. The giant simply spoke, without restraint or caution. Without an ounce of self-preservation.

Garret suddenly remembered why the boy had seemed familiar beyond the tournament.