It took eight hours for Lycan to reach the Academy by carriage, located in the centre of the empire in the city of Laran. The Academy was a large green and white castle- hundreds of meters high and tens of meters underground. Thousands of students and knights bustled around the courtyard, each moving about to their destinations.
The city of Laran itself was well developed and gathered people from all different parts of the empire, containing many different cultures. On the way, sellers carrying baskets of goods approached the carriage that carried the highborns, offering various items for sale. Lycan had purchased a silver ring and was surprised by the offered price. Whoever had made the ring had intricately carved the shape of Garuda, Akar's bird god of war, on it, and Lycan reckoned he would have paid double the asking price if the sellers had charged him as much.
The guards outside the gates of the Academy let the highborn carriages through once Sir Rippard had given them the proper documents. The carriages stopped at the outer courtyard of the Academy.
"Recruits!" Yelled Sir Rippard. "Register at the front desk and pick up your accommodation key. You're free to roam, but gather back here, in the outer courtyard, when the bell rings."
Lycan and the other recruits walked through the inner gates and into the main building. They formed four orderly lines without needing any prompt from the knights. The line was shorter than he had expected, around forty in total, so Lycan reckoned that he and the other highborns must have been the first to arrive.
"Next," one of the admins at the front desk called out to Lycan. Lycan stepped forward and handed the women the paper Sir Rippard had handed him before making his way into the Academy. The woman did not say a word; instead, she wrote his paper's contents onto another similar form. She picked up a key from her desk and handed Lycan's paper with the key to him.
"All done," The woman said to Lycan. "Next."
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Mataram and the recruits with him stood underneath the heat of the scorching sun. Sweat beaded down his forehead to his already wet tunic. They had walked for two days and finally made it to the Academy. The Academy was marvellous, and Mataram and the other recruits he travelled with could not help but stare.
"Wow," one of the recruits muttered.
They had waited outside the outer courtyard gates for a few hours now, waiting to be let through. More and more lowborn recruits had gathered with them as the other recruiters showed up. There were a few hundred of them now.
"Lowborns!" a knight by the Academy gate finally shouted as the front gate of the Academy was opened.
"That's us," Sir David said, leading the recruits he had brought inside the Academy walls.
Once finished registering his papers and receiving his accommodation key and details, Mataram went outside to gather with the other recruits. Sir David had ordered them to return to the outer courtyard once finished. Not long later, as the last of the recruits had registered, a bell on the top of the Academy bell tower rang. Some other recruits, who must have arrived earlier, began to gather. Mataram saw a group of them forming a line on one side. Mataram could tell that those recruits were from wealthy families from articles of clothing. They wore colourful sarongs, Akar's traditional dress, around their waist. Some men wore nothing to cover their chest, while the other men and all the women had wrapped two strips of ulos in an 'X.' Only those entering the Academy with Mataram wore simple cotton tunic and trousers.
A small stage floated out to the outer courtyard and was placed before the gathered recruits. The sorcerer carrying it was a large air elementalist. The sorcerer gently set the stage on the ground and stood atop it. Most of the recruits gathered had gone silent as the air elementalist walked, and only the highborns had continued to chatter. A strong gust of wind blew in the direction of the highborns, who immediately turned to face the source; most of them went pale immediately as they saw the sorcerer who was smiling at them.
"Now that's settled," the sorcerer said calmly, "I can start my speech." The sorcerer was probably in his fifties, but his talk sounded both youthful and experienced.
"Welcome to the Academy, recruits. You can call me Dean Anders; as my title suggests, I am the Dean of this Academy. I would like to start with the reason why you are here. As you know, our great Empire of Akar is currently in a war against the Western Alliance, and powerful sorcerers are needed to keep fighting for our cause." Some of the recruits stood straighter at the mention of Akar's cause.
"I'm sure you all know what our motivation is, and some would've had the chance to touch one of Garuda's gifts. For those who haven't, please feel free to touch any of the golden orbs placed around the Academy."
Mataram looked around and saw a golden orb placed by the wall of the Academy door entrance.
"Those are the first of four gifts Garuda's prophecy had promised us. As I'm sure you all know, the second and third gifts have already been given to us. Both our Monarch and our war machines are proof of that."
Mataram had heard of the prophecies and the new kinds of sorcerers artificially created thanks to the gifts that Garuda had given Akar. Maybe if he got lucky, he could become a lightning sorcerer.
"There is only one more gift that our god had yet to grant us," Dean Anders held up a finger. Most of the recruits, including Mataram, stood up even straighter. "The one who Garuda will bestow its power to and will lead us to victory for humanity." A round of applause and cheers followed the Dean's statement.
"I'm sure you all are very excited," Dean Anders continued after the crowd had died down. "And you should be. The chosen one will be from our Bhayangkara, our elite soldiers. Only they will have the skills and prowess necessary to wield the power of Garuda. So work hard, and become strong. You are our future, humanity's future."
The applause this time was louder and more furious. Mataram was determined to become a Bhayangkara, but that would not be enough for him. Only if he were the best among the best would it be enough.
---------------
Lycan watched the Dean leaving with the stage beside him. If anyone were going to receive their god's gift, it would be Lycan Torress. His countless hours of training, studying, and enduring his parents' wrath will finally pay off, and he will make sure of it.
Lycan returned to his accommodation on the third floor of the Maison building. He had hired two helpers to carry his belongings into his room. Lycan found his room small, but he reckoned that it was the biggest the Academy had to offer. Once he had settled in, he changed his ceremonial outfit to a more comfortable tunic and trousers.
Lycan made his way to the communal room of his floor, where a couple of recruits had gathered. They were sitting on couches and chatting with each other.
"Hey," Lycan waved at the other recruits, taking a seat at one of the empty sofas.
"Heya," one of the recruits greeted him. "Name's Loran Anishi," Loran offered her hand.
"Lycan Torress," Lycan shook Loran's hand. She was a dark-skinned woman with short hair cropped close to her head.
"Torress," Loran said, impressed.
"Says the Anishi," Lycan retorted jokingly.
Loran laughed at that. "I guess that makes us rivals, doesn't it?"
"Let's leave our family politics while we are here, can we?" The other recruit said. He was also an Anishi, with the same dark skin but a clean-shaven head. House Anishi was also one of the great military houses of Akar, but where house Torress contributed with might, house Anishi contributed with technological ingenuity. Their ancestors were the ones who managed to turn Garuda's third gift into a working prototype; weapons that were able to wield tenaga.
"Alright, alright," Loran said. "This is my younger brother, by the way," she gestured to the other Anishi.
"Adriani," Adriani stretched a hand. His head was clean-shaven, but what was more notable was the cloth that wrapped his entire body beneath his robes, only leaving his neck and head visible.
Lycan accepted the hand. "Nice to meet you, Adriani."
"Same here, Lycan."
"So," Loran said. "Now that we are finished with our introduction, what are your plans for the day?"
"I'm going to head to the training area," Adriani replied.
"I was about to say the same," Lycan added. "Mind if I join?"
Loran sighed. "Let me guess. You're aiming to join the Bhayangkara, too?" She asked Lycan.
"Yeah, of course," Lycan replied.
"I like that drive," Adriani replied. "You can aim to join Bhayangkara, but the spot for the chosen one will be mine," he smiled.
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"Nah ah," Loran intervened. "I'm going to be the chosen one. But don't fret. I'll allow you two to be part of my guards."
Lycan smiled at his new friends. "Sorry to disappoint everyone, but that spot is mine."
"We'll see," Loran smiled. "Let's go to training, and we'll size each other up there."
Not to Lycan's surprise, both siblings were powerful augmenters and fighters. Loran and Adriani competed on who could lift the heavier load while Lycan practised shooting fireballs at targets.
Adriani had to admit defeat to his sister and rest on the sidelines as his sister continued to lift weights. He could carry heavier loads than his sister, and everyone knew that. But his sister could transmute tenaga without exhausting herself for far longer.
"Come on, Adriani!" Loran called him as she easily lifted four hundred kilograms of stones on her back. "Don't tell me you are tired already."
"I think I'm done for the day," Adriani forced a smile.
"Alright then," his sister smiled back, returning to her training.
Mataram sat in class with the rest of the lowborns; it was mandatory for those who had not attended proper military education to attend these extra classes to catch up with their peers. He was learning about warfare strategy, and Mataram enjoyed the subject more than he initially thought he would. He always enjoyed learning about history, and this was similar. The lecturer, Professor Khali, was reading the chronological events of one of Akar's most infamous military failures, the battle of Palu, where Akar lost the majority of its navy.
"Can anyone tell me what General Alzam did wrong? How could he have avoided such a disaster?" Professor Khali asked the class. A couple of students raised their hands.
"You," Professor Khali pointed at a pale-skinned girl.
"He could have positioned the ships better to avoid the whirlpools," the girl said.
"Easier said than done," Professor Khali replied. "The whirlpools appeared suddenly and could have appeared anywhere, and in addition, the enemy sorcerers could have just as easily changed the location of their whirlpools."
The Professor pointed to another student.
"The enemies' canons outranged ours. So instead, General Alzam should have sent airborne troops to bomb the enemy ships from above instead of fighting a head-on naval battle," a boy with long flowing black hair spoke up.
"That wasn't possible," Professor Khali said. "We did not possess any power stones at the time, while our enemy does. Their airborne troops would have massacred whatever we sent."
Professor Khali rubbed his thick but shapen-up beard as his eyes surveyed the lecture hall. His eyes met Mataram's, and he raised a brow.
"What do you think?" Professor Khali asked Mataram. The Professor could tell that the boy had something to say but must have been too shy to speak up without prompt.
"The General's mistake was engaging the fleeing enemies," Mataram said.
"Can you elaborate?" Professor Khali asked intriguingly.
"Most of the Ronan's had retreated. Instead of trying to cut off their escape route, General Alzam should have just let those that had boarded the ships flee and focused on the ones that had remained behind on land."
"And why should General Alzam have allowed that? The Ronans had done numerous atrocities to our citizens in Palu."
"Even so," Mataram replied. "Ronan's knights easily outclassed ours at the time, both in quality and prowess. We only defeated them one and a half-century ago through sheer numbers. Therefore, we would lose if we were to engage them without massive numerical superiority, such as in this naval battle."
"Your answer has merit," Professor Khali said to Mataram, nodding. "But we had access to lightning and metal sorcerers, a breakthrough in sorcery at the time, and the enemies didn't."
Professor Khali turned to face the rest of the students, searching for any raised arms. He sighed when he found none. "Every strategist, general, and the commander would have different answers. You could even argue that General Alzam did the right thing and was just unlucky. For me, however, the answer is simple." He looked at the students, ensuring that their attention was entirely on him. "You do not attack knights who are retreating home. Not only will they be more ferocious, but they will also become more desperate. And fighting an enemy with nothing to lose and everything to gain will put you at an immediate disadvantage."
Mataram could not figure it out, but Professor Khali's words sent a shiver down his spine.
After strategy class, it was melee combat. Instructor Inker was an older woman bearing numerous battle scars all over her body. She was not large nor muscular; however, she carried an aura that intimidated every recruit present. The recruits had gathered in an empty courtyard, and she had ordered them into a formation. The highborns were not as intimidated by their instructor as the lowborns and had lined themselves in the first few rows closest to her.
"Listen up, recruits," Instructor Inkar said ordinarily. Even though she had not shouted, her stern voice could be heard even until the last row. "You all may be sorcerers, but that does not mean you should neglect any close-quarters combat—especially those of you who are augmenters. In this case, you may have a natural advantage, but don't overestimate yourselves." She marched up and down through the ranks of recruits, seemingly to size each of them one by one. Her expression showed a look of disapproval as she reached the last row of recruits.
When Instructor Inkar spoke again, this time, she shouted. "I want you all to pair up! Highborns must pair up with lowborns!" The recruits did not move immediately, and she yelled again. "You've heard my orders! Now move, damn it!"
The highborns immediately scattered, hastily picking any lowborn they could find to pair up. Lycan stood in the front row, quickly turning and reaching for a random student with an ill-fitting uniform. All highborns would have their clothes tailored, Lycan reckoned. He placed his hand on a recruit standing on the fourth row.
"Lowborn?" Lycan asked.
The man turned to face Lycan. "Yes," he nervously said.
"Good," Lycan replied. "You're with me."
The lowborn turned to face his friend, who he initially planned to pair up with. The other lowborn stared nervously at Lycan's imposing gaze and waved a hand to the lowborn Lycan had chosen, signalling that 'it's alright.'
Lycan shrugged and turned the man to face him. "Let's go, then." It was not as if Lycan would have allowed otherwise.
--------------
Mataram was about to ask the lowborn who stood beside him to pair up. There were almost twice the amount of lowborns compared to highborns; therefore, Instructor Inkar should have expected some lowborns to pair up together. But before Mataram could ask, he felt a hand poking at his shoulder. Mataram turned to face the recruit tapping him.
"Hey," the highborn greeted with an easy smile. The man was tall and muscular, even for a highborn, and had his entire body covered by cloth up to his neck.
"Hi," Mataram nervously replied.
The dark-skinned highborn rubbed his shaven head, unsure what to say next. "Umm," he muttered. "If you don't mind, could we pair up?"
Mataram noticed the man was tapping his feet lightly on the ground, obviously anxious for an answer.
"If you could hurry, that would be great," the man said.
"Sure," Mataram shrugged. It was not as if he had planned to pair up with anyone anyway.
"Wonderful," the highborn said and stretched a hand. "My name is Adriani."
"Mataram," Mataram shook Adriani's hand.
"Highborns!" Instructor Inkar yelled over the noise of the crowd, which quieted immediately. "The rest of you, come with me!"
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"Get up!" Lycan yelled at his sparring partner, lying on the ground, rubbing his forearm. The lowborn fought back painful tears and picked up his training sword. As soon as the man was armed, Lycan immediately lunged again, striking the man's leg. The man fell to the ground again. "Always be ready!" Lycan shouted.
Lycan did not see the point of this. Was it not supposed to be the instructor's job to instruct them. Why is it now his job to train these people? But alas, he would do what was asked. In the end, he would be fighting alongside these recruits. Lycan knew he had access to teachers that these lowborns did not, and he was trying his best to imitate his past instructors. If they could make him into such a formidable sword fighter, so should Lycan.
----------------------
Mataram panted tiredly.
"Come on," Adriani said, barely breaking a sweat.
Mataram watched the bald highborn. Adriani had relentlessly instilled sword drills onto Mataram but had not attacked once. Mataram would attack, and Adriani would defend and, most of the time, tripped Mataram during the process. Mataram was getting irritated at how easily Adriani seemed to handle him. This time, when Mataram attacked, he aimed for Adriani's legs. Adriani jumped over Mataram's sword and sent the lowborn to the ground with a light push on Mataram's shoulder.
"Nice try," Adriani said. "Surprise attack. I like it," He said to Mataram with a thumbs up. "But we should return to the basic drills."
"But you'll just beat me as easily," Mataram complained.
"True," Adriani replied. "But you're still making basic mistakes, overexposing your pits and elbow. Armour would not do you any good there, and any experienced swordsman would take immediate advantage of it." Adriani took a step back away from Mataram. "Enough talk."
Mataram sighed and returned to a fighting stance.
--------------
Around an hour later, after supervising the drills for the lowborns, Instructor Inkar moved about the courtyard, watching the highborn spar with their partner. Lycan noticed that she watched him train his lowborn longer than she did the others. When he caught her gaze, he could not deduce whether her look was approving or disapproving.
Having successfully beaten the techniques into the man, the lowborn Lycan was paired up with had rapidly improved. The method Lycan had instructed the man may not have been pretty, but Lycan could not deny the results. He eyed the lowborn, who was now covered with bruises and blood. Lycan lunged in at the man, and the lowborn was ready and parried the blow. But Lycan was fast and swiped the man's feet with a kick, sending him back to the ground. Lycan turned to Instructor Inkar, who only nodded once without saying a word and then left.
-------------
Mataram sat on the ground, panting. Instructor Inkar had just announced the end of the class, and Mataram was exhausted and far from satisfied with his progress. Adriani had toyed with him. Not only did Mataram find himself unable to land a single hit on the man, but Adriani did not even strike back. All the minor bruises and cuts that Mataram sported were done by Adriani, either tripping him or putting Mataram off balance. Mataram gripped his blade, stood up again, and was about to go to the training dummies when Adriani called out.
"Off to train again, already?" Adriani jokingly asked.
"I need to catch up with everyone else," Mataram replied seriously. "You played me like a toy."
"I was trained since the day I began to walk," Adriani replied. "And most likely, all the highborns are the same. You shouldn't expect to be a match for any of us after one day of training."
"I'm not," Mataram replied, annoyed. "I know I can't. But in the end, I need to."
Adriani nodded understandingly. "I get it, " Mataram said, lifting an eye at Adriani. "Trust me when I say that I do get it," Adriani continued, and his face seemed to turn grim.
The dark expression disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, but Mataram could not shake away the solemn expression from his mind.
Adriani's face turned bright again, and he sported his signature easy smile. "I'm going to head off now, but if you're going to continue, I say you should repeat the same drills we practised."
Mataram nodded earnestly. "I will."
"Good," Adriani replied. "I can meet you same time tomorrow here for further practice if you want."
Mataram smiled. "I'd like that," he said. "Thanks."
Adriani continued to smile. "No worries." The highborn looked at the rest of the courtyard. Most of the highborns had left, and what remained were bruised and battered lowborns that were unlucky enough to have been a highborn's sparring partner. "Extend my offer to the rest of the lowborns, would you?" he said to Mataram.
"You'd do that?" Mataram asked, surprised by the generosity of the highborn.
"I don't see why not," Adriani shrugged. "Anyways, I need to go now. See you tomorrow." He waved and left the courtyard.
Mataram returned to face the dummy. He gripped his sword and started to repeat the drills.
-----------------
Lycan met with Loran and a few other highborns and went to the training area. The training area was similar to the courtyard where the melee combat was, but it was larger and would be a better place to practice their sorcery.
"Did you guys get much from the class just now?" Loran asked the group as they walked.
"Nothing at all," Titas, an earth elementalist replied. "The skill gap between me and the lowborn was way too large."
"Agreed," Lycan concurred. "But you should've seen him, though," he proudly boasted about his training partner. "I'm willing to bet he'll be able to beat any of your students in a sword spar."
"I doubt that," Kiri, a visioner, replied. "My training partner should already be too afraid to lose by now," she said, putting two fingers on her head, signalling that she might have used her telepathic abilities.
"That's cheating," Loran said, and the group laughed.
As they passed a hallway, Lycan saw Adriani walking in their direction, carrying many books and scrolls.
"Adriani," Lycan called out to him.
"Where are you going?" Loran asked her brother.
Her brother turned to face them, seemingly surprised by their presence. "Oh, hey, guys," he waved. "I'm heading back to my room. I just got these from the library," he rocked the pile in his arms.
"You wanna join us at the training hall. And get some actual training?" one member of the group asked.
"Don't bother asking," Loran waved a hand. "My brother loves his books and legends, and nothing would change his mind."
"She's right," Adriani shrugged.
"You're joining us for dinner, though," Loran continued.
"I will; I will," Adriani replied. "Just knock on my door when you guys are back," he said, leaving and waving the group goodbye.
"Legends and fairytales, huh," Lycan muttered to Loran once Adriani had left.
"And tech," Loran added. "He's been obsessed with these things since as far as I could remember. I've told him several times that he should train more if he wanted a proper shot at joining the Bhayangkara, but alas, I could do nothing."
"I see," Lycan said, sighing inwardly.
"I know he is far from the best fighter, but I reckon he'll take over the family legacy. When it comes to technology innovation, he's far better than any other prodigies I've ever seen," Loran said.
Before Lycan could say how impressed he was for Anishi to admit defeat regarding knowledge of technology, a member of their group spoke.
"We're here," the highborn said, opening the door to the training area.
The highborns trained on sorcery and melee combat until the dinner bells rang. Adriani had joined the group for dinner and left for his room right after, while the rest of the highborns returned to the training hall. The earth elementalists pushed themselves and erected walls that Lycan used to fire his flames. Lycan kept pushing himself through the pain and only rested once his nose began to bleed from transmutation exhaustion. He continued to train until only he and Loran were left and continued after Loran had left. Only after the whole Academy had gone silent did he return to his flat to wash the blood off of himself.