The morning after his meeting with Princess Elara, Dras woke up to the sound of a bugle blaring throughout the Academy, signalling the start of a new day. The reality of his situation was setting in - he was a cadet at the Imperial Legion Academy, on the cusp of a challenging but exciting journey.
After a hearty breakfast, the cadets gathered on the training fields, waiting for their daily instructions. Sergeant Keldorn, a burly man with a hearty laugh and a thick accent, sauntered to the front. His demeanour, reminiscent of a jovial bear, was contrasted by his imposing stature and commanding presence.
"Alright, younglings!" Sergeant Keldorn roared, his voice echoing over the cadets' chatter. "Gather 'round. It's about bloody time you lot learned how this damned Academy works!"
Dras found himself in a group with his squad, their attention riveted on the Sergeant. Keldorn strode over to a large board set up on the field and picked up a piece of chalk.
"You lot are in squads, six bloody cadets each," he started, marking six dots in a group on the board. "A bunch of these squads get lumped together to form a platoon. That's where the fun starts."
He added more groups of dots until there were six, all part of a larger circle. "And that, my dear cadets, is where me and the Commander here come in."
At this, another figure stepped forward. Commander Rhett, is a man of notable charm and confidence. His casual demeanour was both intriguing and somewhat intimidating.
Commander Rhett nodded at the cadets, a sly grin playing on his lips. "That's correct. As your Commander, I'll be overseeing your training, alongside Sergeant Keldorn."
The Sergeant continued, "In layman's terms, you lot need to learn to work together in your little groups, your squads. And then, we'll see how you work with the other 'little groups' in the platoon. It's a bloody mess at first, but you'll get the hang of it."
Commander Rhett stepped in, adding a layer of clarity to Keldorn's broad strokes. "What the Sergeant is trying to say is, the structure of squads and platoons is about fostering teamwork and strategy. It's about learning to operate as a cohesive unit within your squad and then learning to synchronise with other squads to operate as a platoon. This forms the backbone of our military force."
He added, "And let me be clear, our training is intense. You'll be pushed to your limits and beyond. We're preparing you for the Scorch Trials, and they are not a walk in the park."
Keldorn interjected, "Right you are, Commander. We'll drill you till you're cursing our names in your sleep. But remember, we're not doing this to break you. We're doing this to make you the best damn cadet you can be."
After the enlightening conversation with Sergeant Keldorn and Commander Rhett, the cadets were quickly swept into the rigors of training. The grounds were a sprawling expanse, studded with various training apparatus from towering wooden structures to deep sand pits meant for various forms of physical and strategic training.
The cadets grappled with the climbing walls, their fingers seeking purchase on the rough wood. They balanced precariously on logs, their legs shaking with exertion as they tried to maintain their equilibrium. They navigated through obstacle courses, their bodies moving with a newfound agility.
Combat training was next on the agenda. The cadets were paired off, each tasked to face their partner in a one-on-one sparring match. Dras found himself standing opposite Talen, a lanky cadet with a dubious smirk.
Just before the commencement of the duel, Dras noted Joren whisper something in Talen's ear. The smirk on Talen's face widened, but Dras met his gaze steadily, his grip tightening around the hilt of his training sword.
Talen threw the first jab, his voice oozing mockery. "Ready to eat dirt, farm boy?"
"Let's find out," Dras responded calmly.
As the duel unfolded, Dras moved with a natural rhythm, his strikes and parries flowing seamlessly. He was not as polished as some of the other cadets, but there was an instinctive grace in his movements. He anticipated Talen's strikes, his body swaying out of reach, his own sword responding in kind.
Talen, however, had a different approach. In a dirty move, he scooped up a handful of dirt and flung it towards Dras. Blinking through the stinging dust, Dras sidestepped, his sword arm swinging in a wide arc. His training sword connected with Talen's, sending it spiralling out of his grasp.
A cheer went up amongst the onlooking cadets. Even Sergeant Keldorn, usually stoic, couldn't suppress a hearty laugh.
"Well, I'll be damned!" Keldorn exclaimed, slapping his knee in amusement. "Our farm boy's got more grit than a pig in mud. Takes a face full of dirt and still sends the other lad's sword flying. That's the spirit, boy!"
As the crowd dispersed, Dras noticed Joren and Talen, their faces clouded with anger. They cast him a dirty look, their eyes promising retribution. But Dras merely met their gazes, his own eyes reflecting the fire of determination. He was here to prove himself, and he wouldn't back down.
Commander Rhett, after observing Dras's training performance, approached him as the day was drawing to a close. With a firm pat on the shoulder, he said, "Dras, walk with me."
As they strolled away from the training grounds, Rhett began to speak, his tone casual yet carrying an undercurrent of seriousness. "You know, you handle a sword with a finesse that many seasoned warriors lack. You have a natural talent, Dras. And that armor... it's impressive."
Dras looked down at his armor, worn and battle-scarred but still strong and intact. "I found it in the ruins of my home, after... after my parents were killed."
Rhett nodded, taking in the information. "Ah, your father. He was a remarkable man, Kane. I had the honor of fighting alongside him in the Battle of the Three Armies."
Rhett's voice took on a reminiscent tone as he began to share the tale. "He led the Imperial Army of Bartex, united with the Darlor and the Danann to face a horde of goblins, orcs, and chaos beings. And in the midst of that chaos, your father confronted a Greater Demon."
He continued, "Kane wore that very armor you're wearing now, Dras. He was a beacon of hope on the battlefield. His courage in the face of the monstrous demon was something to behold. With Trax, a Darlor, by his side, they managed to defeat the beast."
Commander Rhett looked at Dras with a serious expression. "His leadership and courage earned him a nickname 'the Ghost General'. His forces always appeared and disappeared like specters on the battlefield. He won more battles than anyone else in the army."
Turning his gaze to the setting sun, Rhett added, "That armor isn't just a piece of metal, Dras. It's a magic armor, a relic from a time long forgotten. The Emperor himself would know more about it. Now that you're a noble, you have the right to request an audience with him."
These revelations left Dras with a profound sense of purpose. He decided then and there to request an audience with the Emperor, eager to delve deeper into the history of his family and the magic armor he now wore.
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As the sun rose on the following morning, Dras woke with a sense of newfound purpose. After breakfast, he and his fellow cadets returned to the training fields for another round of intense drills.
It was during a session of sword practice that something unexpected happened. Dras was paired up with Toren, a lanky cadet from his squad who had shown a particular aptitude for magic. As their swords clashed, a burst of energy erupted from Dras's blade, knocking Toren off his feet.
"What the..." Dras stared at his sword, his heart pounding.
Toren, who had swiftly picked himself up, was looking at Dras with wide eyes. "That... that was magic, Dras! You used magic!"
"I did?" Dras asked, bewildered. "But how? I've never been able to use magic."
Toren shrugged. "Magic can manifest in various ways. Some people are born with the ability, while others develop it over time. And for some, it's triggered by intense emotional or physical experiences."
"But I don't even know how to control it," Dras said, still trying to process what had happened.
Toren looked thoughtful. "Magic, from what I've learned, is like a river. It flows through everything, and those with the ability can tap into that river. But just like a river, it can be turbulent and unpredictable. You need to learn to control it, to guide it."
"But how do I do that?" Dras asked, looking at his sword as if it would provide the answers.
Toren smiled. "Practice, lots of practice. And understanding. The magic system in Bartex is based on the understanding of one's own inner energy and the energy of the world around us. It's about balancing these energies to create a desired effect. Think of it like this, when you swing your sword, you're not just using your physical strength but also your inner energy."
Dras nodded, the concept slowly making sense to him. "So, I need to learn to control this... this energy within me?"
"Exactly," Toren said, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "And I can help you with that. We can practice together, learn to control our magic."
A sense of determination settled over Dras. He had a new aspect of his abilities to explore and master, and he was eager to get started. "Then let's get to work," he said, gripping his sword more firmly.