Chapter 13: Knight Training School
The next day.
Raven woke at 7:30 A.M., the sunlight already creeping through the curtains of his bedroom. Today marked his first day at the prestigious Knight Training School, and despite the sleep in his eyes, a flicker of anticipation stirred in his chest.
He washed up quickly, took a long bath to calm his nerves, and changed into his new uniform: a crisp white shirt tucked into neatly pressed blue pants. The fabric still slled faintly of lavender and parchnt—signs of fresh tailoring and his aunt’s ticulous care.
When he stepped into the dining room, he found his sister and aunt already seated at the wooden table, steam rising from the breakfast dishes.
“What’s special today?” he asked as he took a seat, sniffing the air.
“I’ve made boiled eggs, bread, baked beans, fried broccoli, and green tea,” Shirley said, her tone brisk as she ladled food onto his plate. “No sulking—eat everything.”
“Yes…” Raven groaned dramatically, slumping his shoulders. “Why are there always so many vegetables? It’s been forever since we had at.”
“We just had pork last Sunday,” Athena retorted, not looking up as she stacked beans and broccoli into a slice of bread. “Stop being a picky eater.”
Shirley took a bite of her boiled egg and shifted the conversation. “Athena, are you buying a carriage today? Isn’t it a little unnecessary right now?”
“The Knight Training School is three kiloters from here, Aunt. Walking would take over half an hour every day. Hiring a carriage costs three to five silvers each ti, and I still have to head to the station afterward. It’s more practical to buy our own,” Athena replied, her tone firm and asured.
Shirley nodded, conceding. “Fair point.”
“Also,” Athena added with a wry smile, “I’m not a low-ranking officer anymore. It feels… beneath to walk to the Police Station now that I’m Superintendent.”
Shirley chuckled. “Buy a decent one, then. Besides, our little brat here is earning quite well these days. We can afford to breathe a little easier.”
“Thanks, Aunt,” Athena grinned, the tension in her shoulders loosening as they finished their al.
…
After breakfast, Raven and Athena left the house and hired a four-wheeled carriage, paying three silvers to ride to the far end of town- Stonegate.
Known colloquially as Nobles’ Lane, Stonegate was a district of marble villas and high walls. It was ho to the elite: wealthy rchants, noble Walkers, and even a few Wizards. It was also where the Darkcross Knight Training School stood, a towering structure steeped in tradition and pride.
As the carriage rolled down cobbled streets bustling with life, Raven peeked through the curtain, his curiosity piqued.
“Athena,” he asked, “is it hard to get into Darkcross Knight Training school? What’s it really like?”
Athena, seated across from him, gave a thoughtful nod. “The school teaches basic knight etiquette, physical training, and so early guidance on Walker pathways. It’s not hard to pass academically, but many students drop out due to the tuition fees.”
“Do they teach Knight Techniques?” Raven asked, his eyes brightening.
“Not exactly,” Athena replied. “You’ll learn sothing called the Basic Technique. It helps your body develop faster and beco more coordinated, but it won’t increase your strength beyond normal human limits. Still, it’s a good start.”
…
The carriage soon arrived at Erald Park, pulling up in front of a grand four-story building surrounded by expansive gardens filled with enchanted flora. The air was thick with the aroma of blossoms, each releasing a fragrance more exotic than the last.
As Raven stepped out, he spotted dozens—perhaps hundreds—of students wearing similar uniforms, streaming through the main gate. Carriages lined the entrance, each polished and marked with family crests.
“My shift ends at six,” Athena called from the carriage. “Wait here after school. I’ll pick you up.”
He nodded and slung his bag over his shoulder.
The courtyard ahead was alive with motion—students chatting, servants unloading trunks, instructors giving directions. As he moved towards the gate, Raven spotted three familiar figures nearby.
One of them was a blonde-haired girl, no taller than 120 centiters. She had olive skin, large brown eyes, and wore a white shirt and blue skirt. Her wavy hair frad her face beautifully.
Mary Whitbard.
Raven's steps slowed. Though she’d been his classmate, they'd never spoken. Sothing in her presence made his heart thud awkwardly in his chest.
To her right stood a round-faced boy with silver hair and silver eyes. He was slightly chubby and wore an unimpressed look.
Dennis.
To Mary’s left stood soone more familiar—black hair, blue eyes, and a laid-back grin.
Chris.
“Raven!” Chris waved enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you were attending Knight School!”
“Yeah,” Raven said with a small wave as he joined them. “Are we the only ones from our class?”
“Daisy’s also enrolled,” Chris said.
“But, Raven, how’d you even get in? I thought you were from… a poorer background,” Mary added, genuinely curious.
Chris smirked before Raven could answer. “You don’t know who his sister is, do you?”
Mary and Dennis turned to look at Raven more closely.
“Is she soone important?” Dennis asked.
“She’s Athena—the Hero of Darkcross,” Chris said proudly. “During the Beast Wave three years ago, she played a critical role and was promoted to Police Superintendent. Even Raven’s aunt works in the Administrative Departnt as a high-ranking officer.”
Chris clapped Raven on the back. “Mark my words—this guy’s going to be a big na one day.”
“Hmph. Commoners always dream big,” Dennis scoffed. “Trying so hard just to get a governnt post? I can get a better one without setting foot in this school.”
He turned to Mary. “Let’s go. If we stay near them, we’ll only embarrass ourselves.”
Without another word, he strode off, Mary hurrying after him.
“What’s his problem?” Raven muttered.
“Noble brats are always like that,” Chris said. “Don’t let it bother you. But don’t fight him either. He’s from the Sunfire family—a Viscount Household. That kind of background can ruin your life before you even realize it.”
He checked his pocket watch. “It’s 9:00. The welco eting starts at 9:30 in the grand foyer. Co on.”
…
They walked the stone path toward the building. The academy towered before them, its ivy-clad façade adorned with arched windows and a grand clock tower. The interior was even more majestic. The foyer stretched wide and tall, crowned by a dazzling chandelier shaped like a crystalline constellation.
The walls were draped with tapestries chronicling the empire’s long, war-torn history. At the center stood a magical fountain that shimred with iridescent liquid, occasionally changing color with a soft hum.
“Whoa…” Raven whispered, staring at the architecture and the sea of students around him.
Soon, the foyer grew crowded as hundreds of first-years and upper-year students gathered. Voices echoed in waves across the marble hall.
Suddenly, a voice rang out from the second floor.
“There seem to be at least a hundred new admissions this year.”
All heads turned upward.
A red-haired woman in a flowing blue robe descended the bifurcated staircase. Her presence commanded imdiate attention. Around sixty years old, with amber eyes and a slightly wrinkled face, she carried a staff crowned with a silver crest.
“I am Agatha, Headmaster of Darkcross Knight Training School,” she began, her voice deep yet composed. “I also teach Archery and Marksmanship. From this day forth, you will learn discipline, etiquette, and strength under our guidance. For the next five years, you will grow—not just from our lessons, but from each other through sparring and friendship.”
As murmurs faded, she gestured toward a new figure approaching the center of the stairwell.
“Also, allow to introduce a new instructor for Modern Etiquette.”
A tall woman stepped forward, her presence delicate yet authoritative. She had blonde hair, amber eyes, and a graceful posture. Her attire was elegant—a fitted white corset adorned with a stomacher, a flowing white skirt, and a soft bonnet that completed the look of genteel sophistication.
“Good morning, students,” she said with a warm bow, hand over her chest. “My na is Elizabeth. Until last year, I served as a language teacher at Silverhelm’s Elentary School. Though I may not match the noble ladies in grace, I promise to teach you all the essential etiquette to carry yourselves with dignity.”
Her voice was soft but clear, and Raven couldn’t help but admire her calm poise.
A sharp clap echoed through the foyer.
“Alright, kids!” Headmaster Agatha’s voice rang out. “Everyone except the newly admitted students, return to your classes and continue your work.”
With that, the older students—second-years and beyond—dispersed into the corridors, their footsteps echoing against the stone floor. Within monts, only about a hundred first-year students remained, their eyes drawn to the red-haired headmaster who stood at the top of the staircase.
“Now,” she continued, descending the stairs with a purposeful stride, “before you’re sent to your classrooms, you’ll need to choose your path. Follow .”
Elizabeth followed close behind, silently gesturing for the students to trail after them. The group moved in unison down a long corridor, passing several classrooms before entering a large training hall. Wooden dummies lined the stone walls, and racks of weapons stood in orderly rows—each crafted from enchanted wood, glinting under the skylight.
Agatha turned to face them. “I’ll call your nas one by one. When I do, you step forward, choose a weapon, and select a Pathway. Over there—” she pointed to a section of weapons laid out a few ters away, “—you’ll find what you need.”
A pale-skinned girl with sharp features raised her hand. Her voice was clear but hesitant.
“Headmaster... do we have to choose a Pathway? I want to beco a Wizard.”
“Oh?” Agatha grinned, intrigued. “Ambitious already, are you?”
She walked a few steps closer to the students, her tone becoming instructive.
“To beco a Wizard, physical strength is essential. It’s the vessel that holds the elental energy within you. Without it, engraving the Elental Circlet Technique into your body becos a battle between body and soul. And trust —if your body isn’t prepared, the backlash can cripple your progress or worse, destroy your spell model.”
She paused as she noticed the puzzled looks on many faces, then chuckled.
“But that’s a lesson for another day. For now, just rember this: select your Pathway wisely, and pick the weapon that resonates with you. Once chosen, you won’t be allowed to switch for the next year.”
She glanced down at her notebook. “Alan.”
A tall boy stepped forward.
“First, your Pathway,” Agatha said. “Your options are: 1—Knight, 2—Warrior, 3—Assassin, and 4—Ranger.”
Alan hesitated only a mont. “I choose Warrior, ma’am.”
“Hm. I thought you’d pick Knight,” Agatha murmured, then moved on. “Weapon of choice: 1—Broadsword, 2—Gauntlets, 3—Shield, 4—War Hamr, 5—Axe, 6—Spear.”
“Broadsword,” Alan replied without pause. He strode forward and retrieved the weapon.
“Next. Jean.”
A black-haired girl stepped up.
“Pathway?”
“Ranger, ma’am.”
“Ranger? Limited options for that. 1—Bow and Arrow. 2—Daggers and throwing knives. We recomnd—”
Before she could finish, Jean had already picked up a bow and quiver.
One by one, the students were called. So chose quickly, others tested weapons for several minutes before deciding. The air buzzed with nervous energy and youthful excitent.
Then—
“Raven!”
Raven stepped forward and stood tall before the Headmaster.
“I choose the Knight Pathway, ma’am.”
Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Following your sister’s footsteps, are you? That’s not a bad thing.”
She smiled. “Now, weapon of choice. I’d recomnd the longsword—it suits the Knight Pathway well.”
Raven looked toward the table, then asked, “May I try the weapons first, ma’am?”
Agatha’s brows rose in surprise. Elizabeth, watching silently from behind, narrowed her eyes with interest.
“You may,” Agatha replied.
Raven picked up the longsword first. He attempted slashes and thrusts. His movents were awkward and imprecise, lacking rhythm or comfort.
“No,” Agatha said, her voice thoughtful. “You’ve no natural feel for it. That’s not your weapon.”
Unbothered, Raven tried the bow next. His draw was weak, and the string twanged awkwardly. A few students chuckled.
He ignored them, returning the bow. Then, his hand reached for the spear.
He gripped it with familiarity—he’d studied the Wintermoon Spear Dance in theory. He mimicked the grip, then tried basic thrusts and arcs.
Agatha observed closely. “Hmm. Better. Not perfect, but the spear fits your movents more naturally.”
She jotted down his choices in her notebook.
“Chris,” she called next.
Chris chose the Ranger Pathway and selected a bow and arrows without hesitation.
“Mary chose Spear, too,” he said as he approached Raven.
Raven nodded. “What about Dennis?”
“Assassin Pathway,” Chris replied, glancing toward a distant group. “He picked dual daggers. Looks like he’s already joined the noble kids’ circle.”
Raven’s eyes narrowed. Dennis... swordsmanship genius, wasn’t he? Should I say sothing? But then he recalled an earlier conversation—and stayed silent.
Agatha continued the selection process. After all nas were called, she addressed the group again.
“Classes will now be assigned based on your Pathways. Class 1A—Knights. 1B—Assassins. 1C—Warriors. 1D—Rangers. Proceed to your respective classrooms.”
“What?” Chris exclaid, startled. “We’re not in the sa class?”
“We’ll still see each other during breaks, right?” Raven offered with a smile. “Let’s go. I’m curious about the basic training manual they’ll give us.”
The two parted ways at the corridor junction.
“Mine’s 1D. Yours should be 1A,” Chris said, pointing to the farthest classroom.
“See you soon,” Raven gave a thumbs-up.
Then, Chris leaned in and whispered, “Be careful around a kid nad Scott... and his friends.”
“Scott?” Raven frowned. “Who’s that?”
“Rumor is, his family’s tied to the Vipers—one of the three richest families in Darkcross Town.”
Raven froze.
The word Vipers wasn’t just a rumor to him—it was a childhood fear. Parents whispered that na to warn kids about strangers, about wandering off at night. To him, the Vipers were nightmares.
“I thought they were made-up stories,” he muttered.
Chris shook his head. “No, they’re real. An underground syndicate. Drug distribution, assassinations, theft... They operate across the Empire. Official mbers are ghosts, hidden. They use middlen—Black rchants and gang leaders—to distribute their drugs. Even if soone gets caught, the core remains untouched.”
Raven’s thoughts drifted to his sister.
“She’s been chasing drug rings for years... even brought down corrupt officials involved.” He nodded with new understanding. “Thanks. I’ll be careful.”
With that, the two boys separated.
Raven arrived at Class 1A and pushed open the door. Rows of desks stretched before him. The air was filled with curious glances and hushed whispers.
He walked toward the back row, aiming for a seat by the wall—but it was already occupied. He settled for the desk one row ahead.
“That seat’s taken.”
The voice was cold, arrogant, childish, but commanding.
Raven turned. A blonde-haired boy with square features and blood-red eyes glared at him. He was chubby, tall, and radiated entitlent.
“And you are?” Raven asked calmly.
The boy didn’t respond. Just stared.
“He’s Scott Morris,” another voice said from the front.
Mary.
Scott smirked. “Not scared of the na?”
“Why would I be?” Raven replied. “You’re just a student like .”
The smugness vanished for a mont. Scott’s friends stirred behind him, ready to speak up—but Raven turned away, smiling at Mary instead.
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