Albert stood in the knights' formation. He straightened his posture, locked his hands behind his back, pushed his chest forward, and held his head high. Among the orderly and motionless rows of knights, he now looked like one of them—one of those he had once only imagined in distant, impossible dreams.
The sun had just risen behind the misty mountains, and a cold breeze caressed the knights' faces, carrying the scent of dawn and silence. The birds' morning songs whispered through the clear air, yet no one spoke. Everyone stood still, in perfect formation; from the seasoned knights to newcomers like Albert. Beside the platform, the senior knights, clad in shining armor and with stoic faces, observed the scene of steadfast waiting.
Several minutes of silence passed… until finally, the commander arrived.
An elderly man in his fifties or perhaps sixties, with a sturdy build, golden armor, and a crimson cloak fluttering in the wind. His blue eyes, like a stormy sea, were deep and penetrating. He climbed the platform with slow yet heavy steps and stood tall and imposing. He glanced briefly at the long rows of knights, closed his eyelids, took a deep breath, and then spoke with a voice that seemed to surge from his very chest:
"A new year has begun... and that means the hard year, with all its battles and wounds, is over. But let no one say this year will be easier. The truth is, you must strive twice as hard as before..."
His voice thundered through the field like a hammer blow. The silence among the crowd grew heavier. He lifted his head again, eyes sharp and speaking of countless wars, and continued:
"To be a knight means… even if all your bones are broken, you must rise again. Stand firm to the last breath. Not for yourself, but for the people, for honor, for the royal family. This path is the way of manhood and sacrifice. This is all that a knight must remain loyal to."
A deep silence engulfed the entire field. The old man fixed his gaze on the assembly.
"And finally... being a knight isn't about age, gender, or race. The only thing that matters is loyalty and honor. This is my message to start this new year. Now…"
He shouted loudly:
"Do you understand?!"
Suddenly, the loud, coordinated, and passionate voices of the knights echoed across the field:
"Yes, sir!"
The training began. The novice knights separated from the group, their eyes a mix of excitement and hidden fear.
Albert took his place in the third row—the row for rookies with one or two years of experience. At that moment, a woman stepped forward from among the senior knights; clad in black armor with a golden cloak draped over her shoulders. It was Atusa, one of the most distinguished knight trainers, with dark brown eyes, loose hair, and a deep scar over her left eye running down her cheek—a souvenir from a bloody battle. The leather gloves on her hands made a rustling sound, and in her piercing gaze was something between alertness and ruthlessness.
With a firm and no-nonsense voice, she said:
"I don't want to waste time on motivational speeches. But there's something you need to know…"
Her half-smirk, mischievous and sharp, looked more like a predator's smile than a coach's.
"Last year, many came with hopeful eyes, wanting to become knights. They thought riding horses and swinging swords was all it took. But they forgot they first had to break their bones, learn what pain really means."
For a moment, she lowered her head, seemingly saddened—but everyone knew it was just an act. A performance to break weak spirits.
"Many quit... because they couldn't endure my training. It's regrettable…"
Then suddenly, with a loud laugh that was more like anger, she said:
"But those of you who remain are about to experience hell! Because only in fire and extreme pressure are diamonds made!"
Some veteran knights remained indifferent. But the looks of those in the second and third rows were filled with worry and fear. They knew the truth about the training; where daily several people would faint from exhaustion... now everything was about to get harder.
Albert, calm-faced but with a raging mind, just listened. Stress sat in his chest like a weight. But he forced himself to stand. He couldn't turn back... he wasn't allowed. He had left his past life behind, and nothing remained but moving forward. He had promised himself—for Diana, for his sister, for his honor. He had to stand. He had to stay.
He clenched his fists and whispered:
"I will be Princess Diana's knight… I have sworn, and I will never back down. Never…"
Atusa stepped forward and faced the third row, speaking seriously:
"Today's training: one hundred laps around the gravity field. Every ten laps, gravity increases. No rest. You can use magic if you want, I don't care. You either run... or lose."
The gravity field was a circle surrounded by stone pillars, covered in ancient and mysterious engravings. Atop each pillar, a stone glowed with a special light. Every ten laps, another stone lit up, as if the field were alive and reacting.
Albert entered the field. His body suddenly felt heavy. His breath caught in his chest.
"This feeling... it's strange... as if a mountain is on my shoulders..."
But he didn't stop. He started running slowly, then faster. After a few laps, exhaustion clawed at him, but something inside roared. It screamed: "Keep going!"
Ten laps passed. Another stone lit up. The pressure increased.
Hours went by. Bodies left the field one by one. Sweat poured from Albert's body, steam rising from his skin. Yet he kept running. Still, the oath he made to himself and Diana echoed in his mind.
The end was near. But his body no longer ran—it dragged itself. His legs were numb, his hands cold. But he moved forward. Slowly. Gradually. But still forward...
Albert clenched his teeth and shouted with a voice from the depths of his soul:
"I am the one who will be the Princess's knight, no matter what happens to me!"
His voice was so resonant that even the knights who had quit and withdrawn from training heard it. They all turned and looked at him—eyes full of admiration, not mockery. Because now he could no longer be underestimated. If anyone had said those words before but failed to follow through, they would be laughed at. But Albert, enduring unbearable pain and pressure, proved his will was ironclad.
Atusa, the harsh and relentless trainer, had a crooked, meaningful smile on her lips—a smile filled with pride and satisfaction. She was glad to see Albert's effort, knowing this young man was different.
When Albert finished the last lap, he still couldn't leave the field. His steps were slow and heavy, but he kept walking. The voices of knights shouting anxiously, "Training's over, stop!" reached his ears, but he kept moving forward, as if something inside compelled him.
His eyes slowly darkened as he whispered:
"Just a little more... just a little more... then it will be over..."
Suddenly, from the pressure and exhaustion, he fainted right there on the training ground.
**Present time**
Albert suddenly opened his eyes. A strange and heavy headache twisted in his head, like a storm of pain had fallen upon him. He raised his trembling hand and touched his forehead. Slowly, he got up from the old wooden bed.
The chirping of crickets and the cracking of dry wood in the cold fireplace filled the room. It was clear the fire had gone out, and the room was cold and penetrating. Outside, the melodious sound of birds in the cold, bright morning air could be heard.
"Such a strange dream…" he said softly, with a gaze still burning from fever and exhaustion.
He went to the window, opened it, and took a deep breath of fresh morning air. Outside, white smoke rose from chimneys, and birds singing flew across the clear blue sky.
Albert's mind was still caught up in that long, harsh dream.
A quiet, deep smile spread across his lips—not a smile of simple happiness, but one born from overcoming dark days and reaching a great goal.
"Fifteen years have passed since those days... everything still feels like yesterday... how my sister and I were homeless... how Princess Diana took our hands and brought us to the knights' headquarters... every moment, every hardship, every tear was worth it."
Albert smiled—the smile that planted a fresh calm in his heart; a calm born from hope and faith in his future.