The carriage rocked as it rattled down the uneven road, wheels grinding against the dirt. Afternoon sunlight slanted through the trees, long shadows reaching across the path like claws. Inside, the group had finally settled—some still talking, others just staring at the scenery.
I leaned back against the wooden frame, arms crossed. Their chatter from earlier echoed in my head. None of them seemed too worried about what Greyfort really was. Maybe they still held onto the hope that things would turn out differently—that they could carve out a future for themselves, no matter the odds.
I didn't blame them.
Hope was what kept people moving.
The blond boy broke the lull. "So, if Greyfort isn't like the other academies, what kind of training do you think we'll get?"
I cracked an eye open. "Basic military training. Combat drills, strategy lessons, survival skills. Nothing special, but enough to turn you into a soldier."
The dark-haired girl tilted her head. "But not a knight?"
I shook my head. "Knights come from noble families. They're raised in the best academies, given the best weapons, armor, mentors. At Greyfort, we don't learn to be heroes. We learn to fight."
The boy with the spear frowned. "That's kind of disappointing."
The ponytailed girl smirked. "What, you wanted to be a knight?"
He shrugged. "I just thought it'd be… grander. Fighting for honor, proving ourselves."
I studied him carefully. "If you want to prove yourself, Greyfort will give you plenty of chances. But don't expect it to be fair."
The carriage jolted over a rut, making the coachman curse under his breath.
The blond boy tapped his fingers against the bench. "Alright, but what about magic?"
I exhaled. "Greyfort teaches it, sure—but don't expect the best instructors. The elites hoard their mages. At Greyfort, you'll be mostly on your own."
Uncertainty rippled through the group.
The ponytailed girl leaned closer. "Then how do we get stronger?"
I met her gaze. "We fight. We train. And we stop waiting for someone to hand us answers."
Silence hung in the air, the weight of my words settling over them.
Finally, the dark-haired girl sighed. "Well… sounds like we have our work cut out for us."
The blond boy grinned. "Guess that just means we'll have to push harder."
I didn't reply. My gaze drifted out the window, watching trees blur past.
The road stretched endlessly, lined with tall trunks swaying with the wind. The carriage creaked and rattled, but inside the group's curiosity hadn't dimmed.
"So," the blond boy leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "If Greyfort's the academy that takes rejects, are there others like it?"
I frowned. In my last life, I hadn't spared much thought for the other third-rate schools. Surviving Greyfort—and the war that followed—had been enough. But now, memories surfaced, names I hadn't considered before.
"Yeah," I said slowly. "There are a few."
They all leaned in.
"Blackridge Academy," I began. "Up north, in the border provinces. It's brutal—more about surviving than learning. People say if you live through Blackridge training, you can live through anything."
The dark-haired girl raised a brow. "Survive?"
I nodded. "They don't hold back. Injuries, exhaustion—it doesn't matter. Only the strong finish."
The spear boy grimaced. "That sounds dangerous."
"It is."
A brief hush, then the blond boy pressed, "Any others?"
I ran a hand through my hair. "Duskfall Academy. Different kind of place. They focus on spies, assassins, unconventional warfare."
The ponytailed girl perked up. "Assassins?"
I shrugged. "That's the rumor. No one knows what really happens inside, but the ones who graduate don't become generals or champions. They vanish into the shadows, doing work no one talks about."
The dark-haired girl shifted uneasily. "That's… unsettling."
I couldn't argue.
"There's also Ironvale," I added after a pause. "It used to be a mining camp before they turned it into a training ground. They hammer endurance, siege tactics, heavy weapons into their recruits."
The spear boy whistled low. "Sounds like hard labor."
A smirk tugged at my lips. "That's because it is."
Saying the names out loud sparked a thought I hadn't entertained before. Back then, Greyfort had been my only option—or so I believed. But these places had churned out survivors too. Warriors who made their mark in different ways.
Had I underestimated them? Or had I just been too focused on my own struggle to see?
The blond boy gave me a curious look. "How do you even know all this?"
I blinked. Right. They wouldn't expect some random recruit to know about every academy.
"I read," I said simply. "My town's library had books on military training. I wanted to be prepared."
The blond boy tilted his head. "You must've read a lot."
I shrugged. "Better than walking in blind."
The dark-haired girl studied me, her gaze sharp. "You talk like you've already been through this."
I met her stare evenly. "Or maybe I just think ahead."
She held my eyes for a moment, then nodded. "Either way, you sound like you know what you're talking about."
The others seemed satisfied with that, and the conversation shifted—stories of home, half-formed ambitions, dreams of what they'd become.
I listened, but my mind wandered.
In my last life, Greyfort had been my prison and my crucible. I thought it was the only road left to me.
Now I knew better.
There had always been other paths. I'd just been too blind to see them.