The older man Orn met sweeping in front of the dorm stood at the end of the room glaring at the boys.

“Not even a full day!” the man’s voice echoed in the large room. “Not even one day! I have never seen a group of students get punished before classes even start.” The man paused to glance around the room, and make eye contact with as many as he could.

“If the food was not already cooked, I would have let the lot of you go hungry,” he gestured for the older boys near the kitchen to bring the food out. “I hope you enjoy it. It is field rations from here on. Do not think this is over either. I am sure the headmaster has more in mind for you lot so get ready for it.”

The door slammed loudly behind him as he exited. Orn noticed most of the first years were staring down at the table, and more than a few seemed to be on the verge of tears. At the other tables, the boys seemed unbothered by the lecture.

After a few moments passed, Clay and another boy stood. The other boy ran to the door and slipped out. Clay meanwhile slowly walked to where the man had stood a barely a minute before. Clay then cleared his throat drawing attention to himself. He waited patiently as the older boys nudged the scared first years to look up.

While he waited the door opened and the other boy slipped back in. The boy whispered something to Clay who smiled and clasped the other boy’s shoulder. His face quickly took a more somber expression as he addressed the group.

“Welcome to the West Barracks. My name is Clay. I am the colonel in charge of West Barracks and the general in charge of all the knight students. It is my job to help you navigate the academy,” he paused and looked around the room. “You have all just met our barracks manager, Grigs. As you are all aware there was an incident today and the headmaster is not pleased. The punishment is field rations until the first break.”

Clay let the words hang ominously. The dramatic effect was broken by a couple of the older boys unable to fully stifle their laughter. The sound of the first few boys laughing caused a ripple through the room. Around the room older students were laughing or smiling, and even Clay’s mask slipped.

“For those of you who do not know, the mess hall only serves field rations unless it is a holiday. If Grigs wanted to punish us, we would not have eaten tonight whether it was cooked or not. I am sure some of you are wondering why Grim said all that then. The answer is simple, he has to make a show of punishing us or the academy will.” Clay stopped and looked at the boy by the door.

“But,” the boy by the door added smiling, “judging by the way he swaggered down the hall, I would say he was proud.”

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Clay raised his hands for silence, as the older students whooped at the news. “We always have to be careful around the old blood nobles, and they will be especially angry now. But West Barracks has never backed down from a chance to tweak their noses. But today we went further and gave them the bloody nose they deserved!”

Clay waited until the cheers diminished, then continued. “This was only possible because of careful planning. I am sure you all saw the officers at the doors on the way out. They were checking to ensure the only blades on the field were in the hands of one of our new officers. We knew what the old bloods had in mind and they ran straight into our trap.”

Clay waited as another round of cheers passed. “Do not expect the old bloods to take this lying down. They will want to get even if they can, and we cannot let them provoke us. No matter what they say or do, as long as we do not respond there is nothing they can do to us. Whenever in doubt look to your officers.”

As if waiting for this signal older boys around the room stood and moved toward the table with the first years. “They will introduce themselves to you shortly. DO what they say and we will have a good year. Officers keep it short, because tonight, we celebrate the first of many victories.”

Cheers broke out around the hall.

{Healer’s room}

Bron stared at the headmaster, with a look of horror. “You want me to do what?”

The headmaster sat on the empty cot to Bron’s left, resting his hands on top of his cane. The old man’s expression stiffened a bit at the words. “I want nothing. You will be removed from Jolm’s classes and spend the time working for Bibbel. There you will clean and organize the library as well as anything else he needs you to do.”

“You expect me to work for that doddering old fool?” Bron did not bother to hide his disgust. That old peasant can barely care for himself and the entire library smells of old man because of it.

Bron yelped as the headmaster’s cane fell hard across his legs.

“Yes,” the headmaster replied lifting the cane. “You will work for a teacher of common background. You will do everything he asks of you. AND you will not speak that way about another instructor again.”

“I am a noble,” Bron began through clenched teeth. “Being a servant for a man below my station is intolerable.” Bron could already imagine the looks if such a thing happened.

“Then you can leave the Academy,” the headmaster replied flatly.

Bron’s eyes widened and he stared at the headmaster in shock. Bron had heard of low born students leaving the academy but never a nobleman. If he was kicked out he would be forever known as an idiot. Worse, Bron imagined his father's expression when he learned of this. Bron shivered at the thought of what his father might do. Bron grit his teeth and tried to think of a way out. “I have done nothing that would justify being expelled. I have passed all my needed classes, and the duel was legal.”

“Irrelevant,” the headmaster replied standing. “I am punishing you for being bothering other students before the duel started. You bothered them because they were from backgrounds you considered inferior. Now you will work for a man of similar birth. It is both relevant and fair punishment. But if you undermine the school’s authority again by refusing a fair punishment or insulting a professor, I very much will expel you.”

“My father will not be pleased with this,” Bron replied. He dreaded the thought of his father learning of his failure, but the alternative was much worse.

“I agree,” the headmaster smiled ominously. “In fact, I expect he will be quite upset. But he will have little recourse. I speak with the king’s authority on such matters. Your father will find his majesty has long since tired of complaints about how I run the academy.”

Bron swallowed feeling an empty feeling growing inside him.

“The healer said to give you a week to rest, and I will. In that time you can think on the mess your useless pride has gotten you into, and the options in front of you,” the headmaster said before turning away. “We both know what you will choose after your father learns he cannot interfere. I will have Bibbel, waiting with a list of chores, and a book on noble etiquette. I think you would do well to read the section on weapons. Not only did you needlessly, ornament your own blades, you failed to recognize the other boy wore proof of killing multiple monsters.”

Bron barely heard the old man’s words as he tried to prepare himself for what was to come.