The town square bustled with people going about their morning routines. Merchants barked out prices as they set up their stalls, and travelers streamed through, some angling for the marketplace, others heading toward the road that wound out of town.
Near the center stood a large wooden carriage, its horses stamping their hooves impatiently. A man in a long coat held the reins, his thick beard hiding most of his face. His voice carried above the noise, deep and commanding.
"Greyfort Academy-bound carriage! Last call! If you're heading to Greyfort, get on now!"
A group of kids my age hurried toward the carriage, bags slung over their shoulders. Some had their eyes shining with excitement, while others already looked like nerves had tied their stomachs in knots. All of us were here for the same reason—Greyfort Academy.
I adjusted the strap of my bag and stepped forward, the wooden cane knocking gently against my side while my new sword hung heavy at my waist. Without hesitation, I climbed into the carriage and dropped into an empty spot on the bench.
The others followed quickly, shuffling to make space, elbows bumping bags, voices overlapping. Once the benches were full, the coachman slammed the door shut and climbed up to his seat. The sharp flick of reins snapped the horses into motion, and the carriage lurched forward.
The journey to Greyfort had begun.
___
The interior was cramped but not unbearable, benches lining both sides with only a narrow aisle down the middle. Sunlight streamed through the small windows, streaking across the wooden planks.
I counted about a dozen of us—boys and girls alike, all headed for the same uncertain future. Some chattered nervously, filling the silence, while others stared at their boots or the passing scenery.
The boy across from me stretched out his legs and grinned, his messy blond hair falling over his eyes. "Well, this is it. No turning back now."
The girl beside him, short dark hair framing sharp eyes, smirked. "You sound like you're going to war already."
The blond boy laughed. "Isn't that what we're training for? Might as well get used to the idea."
A boy by the window scoffed. "You talk like you've already fought battles."
The blond shrugged. "Not battles, but I've trained. My father made sure I knew how to fight before I even applied to Greyfort."
The dark-haired girl raised a brow. "Trained with what?"
"Sword, mostly. Some hand-to-hand. And you?"
"Same," she said with a shrug. "Military family. Didn't really get a choice."
I listened quietly as their words bounced around.
Another girl, with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail, leaned forward. "Does everyone here already know how to fight?"
Some nodded, others avoided eye contact.
The spear user shrugged. "I know how to use a spear. My brother taught me. Never been in a real fight, though."
The blond boy grinned. "Does beating up your brother count?"
The spear user rolled his eyes. "Only if bruises are trophies."
A few chuckles rippled through the group.
The ponytailed girl smiled. "I've only practiced a little with daggers. My uncle runs a guard post and let me train with the recruits sometimes. But I'm not that good."
"That's why we're going to Greyfort," the dark-haired girl said firmly. "No one expects us to be great yet."
The blond boy leaned back, folding his arms. "Still, I heard the entrance exam is brutal."
I finally spoke. "It is."
Every head turned toward me.
The blond boy's eyebrow arched. "You sound sure about that."
I met his gaze evenly. "Because it's true."
The dark-haired girl tilted her head. "Know something we don't?"
I shrugged. "Just that Greyfort isn't easy. Anyone who thinks they can slack off won't last long."
The spear user groaned. "Great. Just what I needed to hear."
The ponytailed girl gave me a small smile. "At least we're all in the same situation."
The carriage hit a bump, jolting us all in our seats. The countryside rolled past the windows—fields giving way to forests, the dirt road stretching endlessly ahead.
From the back, a boy who had been silent spoke up. "Do you think we'll all end up in the same class?"
"Maybe," the blond boy said with a shrug. "Depends on how they sort us."
The quiet boy hesitated. "And… if we have to fight each other?"
A hush fell.
"Then we fight," the dark-haired girl said matter-of-factly. "It's training, not personal."
The blond boy grinned. "Or maybe we'll all be on the same side."
I kept quiet. I knew better.
Greyfort wasn't a place where friendships came first. Competition was fierce, and survival meant being willing to outlast everyone else. But they didn't need to know that. Not yet.
The carriage rattled onward, kicking up dust in its wake. Inside, the others kept talking—jokes, worries, nervous excitement.
I sat back and listened. I'd expected this. Most of them thought Greyfort was just another academy, a stepping stone toward knighthood or military service. They had no idea.
When the blond boy compared it to the elite academies, I couldn't hold my tongue.
"You've got the wrong idea about Greyfort."
Every eye flicked toward me again.
The blond boy smirked. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
I leaned back, shifting my bag. "You think Greyfort's like Ironspire or Valorhold?"
The spear boy nodded. "Isn't it? Same thing—military training."
I shook my head. "No. Greyfort isn't like them. The elites take the best—noble bloodlines, powerful mana, the strongest fighters. Greyfort takes the ones they don't want."
The air grew heavy.
The ponytailed girl frowned. "That's not what I heard."
"Then what did you hear?" I asked.
"That it's a decent academy. Not the best, but still a good place to get stronger."
I sighed. "It's where they send the ones with no better options. The spare sons of nobles who won't inherit anything. Commoners without connections. Failures from the entrance exams of the elite schools. Greyfort takes them all."
The blond boy scowled. "That can't be right. It wouldn't exist if it was just a dumping ground."
"It exists because the kingdom needs soldiers," I said flatly. "Doesn't matter where they come from."
The spear boy shifted uncomfortably. "That's… depressing."
I didn't answer. Just watched them squirm.
The blond boy studied me, then smirked. "You sure know a lot. What are you, some kind of genius?"
The others chuckled. I didn't.
"No," I said. "I just pay attention."
The dark-haired girl leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Then why are you going? If you know all this, why not aim higher?"
For half a second, I hesitated. I couldn't tell them the truth.
"Same reason as most of you," I said with a shrug. "Didn't have much of a choice."
The blond boy chuckled. "Well, good thing you're here then. At least now we know not to expect luxury."
The ponytailed girl sighed. "We'll have to prove ourselves if we don't want to get buried."
"That's the one thing Greyfort has plenty of—competition," I told her. "If you want to stand out, you'll have to fight for it."
The spear boy groaned. "More pressure."
The dark-haired girl smirked. "Better get used to it."
The carriage bounced over another bump, the wheels creaking. Outside, the road stretched on, winding us ever closer to Greyfort Academy.
I closed my eyes, letting their chatter fade into background noise.
This time, things would be different.
And I was ready.