“Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” - H. Jackson Brown Jr. (P.S. I Love You)

  ???

  If their first year at the Academy had them struggling to cope with the sudden influx of training, assignments, and projects, their second year had them spending sleepless nights pouring over tactics and strategies, and even economics.

  Nathan could swear that he was seeing lines from his Politics textbook in his sleep.

  “I swear that I keep hearing our instructors’ lectures and voices in my dreams,” Nathan had grumbled to an amused Leighton just before homeroom one morning. “If second year is already this hectic, our senior year is going to have us with one foot in the grave.”

  At the Imperial Officers Academy, the first years typically had more theory lessons than practical lessons, combat drills excluded. This is designed to ease commoners and those new to combat into the essentials they would need to survive on the battlefield. By the time students are in their second year, they were expected to have grasped the basics of military tactics and conduct, and to train during their free time. Second year was when practical application took precedence over theory.

  Unlike the first years, who mainly had practical tests and exams during their mid-term examinations and finals, the second years were subjected to bi-monthly combat and strategy tests, on top of their regular lessons. Those mock tests were designed to prepare students for real-world scenarios—tests that could very well be the difference between life and death after graduation.

  As such, it was no surprise that anticipation had gripped the entire second year cohort when news of their first mock test arrived.

  Training rooms and grounds were occupied at all odd hours by the second years, and even the night patrol were getting used to seeing the second years awake during the wee hours of the night.

  Thus, it seemed like no time at all the day the mock test rolled around, and the entire second year cohort—both Advanced and Standard classes, were gathered around the vast training grounds.

  The instructors and even some of the third years, and even a few fresh graduates who were invited back as examiners or support, have set up the sparring rings sometime within the last week—most of the Academy have seen them setting it up, and were even informed that the training grounds would be off-limits during that time.

  Watching with the rest of their year mates, Nathan Hunt winced as the latest ‘victim’ was thrown to the ground none too gently by his opponent—one of the new graduates from the Academy, with a blade being pointed in between his eyes.

  “Once more! That wasn’t a fair fight!” The student—some minor noble from a merchant family within the capital shouted. Judging by his form, he’d likely never picked up a weapon before the Academy. Or if he had, he was arrogant enough to believe that he didn’t need to learn anything new. “I wasn’t ready!”

  Any further protests from the student was cut short, as another blade was pressed to his throat. His opponent, whom most of the second years recognised, had been one of the seniors leading the Culinary classes the previous year.

  Jaden Nightray.

  Beside Nathan, Rem winced. Calling it an unfair fight in front of a member of House Nightray, of all the Great Houses, was spectacularly stupid.

  “A ‘fair fight’?” Jaden’s blue eyes were cold, and the smile on his face was equally cold. “Do you seriously think that there is such a thing as a ‘fair fight’?”

  The student who was protesting just a moment ago, went pale, swallowing hard, his eyes almost crossing as he tried not to move too much under Jaden’s blade.

  “Let me fill you in on something, lad.” Jaden’s voice carried easily across the training grounds. Even the instructors who were managing the mock tests merely exchanged looks, but made no move to interfere. “On the battlefield, there is no such thing as a fair fight. You do what you must to survive. Two walks out onto the battlefield. And you better make damn sure you’re the one walking away alive. These mock tests aren’t about honour. It is designed in such a way to teach you what you need to know to survive. And trust me when I say this: you’d better learn fast, or you won’t last long once you graduate.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The student who is still on the ground only swallowed nervously as Jaden sheathed his sword, walking off the sparring ring. The lead instructor examined his clipboard. “Next fight: Yuliana Nightray versus Wesley King.”

  Rem straightened immediately when Yulia’s name was called. She entered the sparring ring calmly, her expression unreadable. Across from her, Wesley King, one of Rem’s classmates, was entering the sparring ring as well. Or to be exact, he strutted into the sparring ring, earning disgusted glances exchanged amongst all the students, even those in the Standard classes, as well as groans, and even eye-rolls from some of the instructors.

  Suffice to say that Wesley King didn’t have a good reputation amongst his peers, especially among the girls who were unfortunate victims of his ‘flirting’ since their first year. Rem knew of Wesley King as the son of a powerful merchant family in the Imperial City with a minor noble title. Due to his father’s influence, however, it seems like Wesley tends to get away with a lot of things, though it seems he’s at least smart enough to steer clear of antagonising students from the Ten Great Houses.

  “Never thought I’d ever say this, but I hope Nightray gives him the beating of his lifetime,” Nathan muttered beneath his breath, much to Rem and Leighton’s surprise. Nathan’s near antagonistic relationship with Yulia was well-known to both of them, though it was clearly one-sided on Nathan’s part. Yulia simply didn’t care enough to reciprocate. “Would probably bring Wesley King down a few pegs and down from his high horse if someone from the supposed ‘weaker gender’ kicks his ass.”

  Leighton stifled a laugh. “Who’s crazy enough to want to go up against Yuliana Nightray of all people?” He wanted to know.

  Nathan gave Leighton a grin. “You’d be surprised. We all know that there are girls in our class that could wipe the floor with us. But there’s always this one guy who thinks otherwise, and that a woman’s place is in the kitchen.”

  Rem let out a very un-princely snort, and both Nathan and Leighton turned their attention towards him. “I want to see Wesley King say that to Yulia’s face. Or even Lady Maris. Or Lady Rovaryn,” he commented. “Ten generations of his ancestors would feel the beating that he would get.”

  Not far away, Rem’s Crownsguard of the day snorted with amusement, but said nothing. His sharp eyes, however, surveyed the training grounds. Or to be more specific, on the sparring ring where Yuliana Nightray is currently facing Wesley King.

  It seems like more than one person had agreed wholeheartedly with Rem, as they were already supporting their favourite person, and it isn’t Wesley who had the overwhelming support. It is Yuliana Nightray.

  Even before this bout, the Nightray heiress is already popular amongst her peers, and even several of the first years whom she had often taken time to help with either their assignments or their training.

  “Nightray, kick his ass!” Kaela Merrin hollered from where she stood with the rest of the students from her class, hands cupped around her mouth.

  “Yeah! He got the audacity to call us women ‘weak’! Show him ‘weak’!” Another girl said further down from where Kaela is, glaring at Wesley. In fact, most of the girls present were glaring at Wesley. If looks could kill, the boy will be a hundred feet under.

  “How long do you think it’ll take Nightray to kick his ass?” A boy from one of the Standard classes wondered, not far away from where Rem is standing.

  “Not very long at all, I’d wager.”

  “Ten silver that it’ll last less than a minute, with Nightray as the victor.”

  “You’re on.”

  Rem barely restrained a wince with how unpopular Wesley King is with their peers. If he don’t try to adjust his attitude, he isn’t going to last long after graduation if he ever takes on a military post. That is if he even survives his third year.

  Throughout the commotion, Yulia stood calmly in the middle of the sparring ring, ignoring all the conversation happening around her. Across her, Wesley King adjusted his stance with a sneer, his sword held in one hand carelessly.

  “The Nightray heiress, huh?” he almost sneered, looking her up and down. “Thought you’d be taller.” Yulia said nothing. She merely looked at something over Wesley’s shoulder, ignoring him completely, much to the amusement of not just the watching students, but also the instructors and the graduates brought on to assist with the mock tests. “They always made such a hype about you, but you can’t be all that great.”

  At the side, one of the other graduates was almost holding Jaden Nightray in place. Jaden looked ready to hack Wesley into pieces for this insult to his lady.

  Rem winced from his place in between Leighton and Nathan. “Wesley King is either very brave or very stupid,” he muttered. “To insult Yulia in front of one of the members of House Nightray.”

  Leighton snorted. “How about both?”

  Wesley went on, oblivious, as he continued speaking, “Women in combat. Unnatural, really. Should stick to cooking and keeping house. But I supposed some men enjoy a little defiance now and then.”

  Even Yulia’s classmates looked furious. Gale made a noise in his throat that is a cross between a growl and a snarl, while next to him, Rowan’s hands clenched into fists, looking surprisingly wide awake for once. Elias muttered something under his breath that was most certainly not polite.

  “…If he’s still in one piece once Nightray is done with him, I call dibs on the remains,” Kaela Merrin muttered angrily.

  The head instructor, seeing that half the students looked ready to storm the sparring ring, decided to start the match. He blew sharply on the whistle and leapt out of the ring at the same time when Wesley King lunged at Yulia.

  Yulia, however, wasn’t fazed. She side-stepped Wesley King, and using her foot, tripped him, much to the laughter of their peers, with the edge of the blunt training blade trained at Wesley’s throat before he could recover. His weapon clattered to the floor, disarmed with elegant brutality. Then, for good measure, Yulia kicked the back of his knee, causing him to fall to his knees.

  It was over in less than ten seconds.

  The laughter from the rest of their classmates grew louder, watching Wesley be forced to his knees in front of Yulia, with the boy’s face red with shame or anger—no one could tell.

  “How does it feel to be on your knees, King?”

  “Who’s weak now?”

  “Nightray showed you mercy! If I was her, I would have ripped your dick off!”

  Leighton let out an impressed whistle. “That’s what I call brutal,” he said with admiration. “She fights dirty. As she should.” Rem gave him a startled look. “What Jaden Nightray said was true earlier. War and battlefields have no place for fairness and clean play. That is normally the first lesson commoners learnt. But for nobles? They either learn this lesson too late, or it’s drilled into them. For members of the Ten Great Houses that were tasked with keeping the borders of Alathia safe, though… They’re taught this lesson from the cradle.”

  Nathan nodded with agreement reluctantly. That was the first lesson he had learnt at his father’s knee.

  “But… It doesn’t seem fair…” Rem murmured weakly.

  Rowan Mercier who had overheard those words, scoffed under his breath, his arms crossed. “Tell me, Your Highness, what do you think soldiers become when the rules stop working?”

  Rem looked at him, startled. And he wasn’t the only one. Most of those around them have their eyes drawn towards Rowan, Elias, and Gale.

  “What’s the point of fighting fair,” Elias said, his voice flat, and arms crossed, “if all it gets you is a knife in the back? Like how there’s more than one way to skin a cat, there’s more than one way to win a fight. And a war.” A faint smirk tugged at the ends of his lips. “And if I’m you, I will suggest you learn this lesson sooner rather than later. Before it’s too late.”

  No one had a comeback.