“To start, no, there is no new word about Mage Graybrew and his two associates who went missing outside of the Northern Purge’s Camp 8 while they attempted to rescue a lost crew of students.” Mage Warwick’s voice was dry, direct, and had no problem reaching across the entire training field and echoing off the stone walls encircling it. “Obviously, without the start of the war, we’d have allocated more resources to finding them. For now, a small team of scouts with searching skills stayed behind to do the empire’s due diligence. However, to be blunt, I don’t expect we’ll get any word, because the two possibilities are that they are dead or have joined the rebels. As high level mages, they would have made their way back in any other scenario.”

Shocked breaths greeted her statement, while a few students snuck glances in Pax’s direction. Warwick didn’t pay him any particular attention, for which he was grateful. It took all of his control to keep his expression neutral as his worry spiked at the thought of trained scouts searching near the ruins.

“Therefore, expect me to be your spells instructor for the foreseeable future. I didn’t bother reviewing Mage Graybrew’s teaching notes because I plan to train you in the way of the Tower Ring.”

Now she had everyone’s rapt attention. The Tower Ring mages and warriors were the closest thing the empire had to heroes. They were the best of the best who put their lives on the line to protect the entire empire.

“Our training methods will seem harsh, but they are necessary when you are part of the critical bulwark that is the Tower Ring. We kill the most powerful monsters emerging from the wells before they can destroy the empire and its most vulnerable citizens.”

The grins of excitement around Pax faded a bit. He knew he couldn’t be the only one suddenly wondering exactly what methods a Tower mage would describe as harsh. He licked his lips and did his best to look like a prepared and skilled student.

“While battling beasts, you mostly die for two reasons. One, either you or someone on your team makes a mistake. Two, you are too weak and can’t fight any longer.” She paused to look them over, her expression telling them just what she thought of weak fools who messed up. “I am going to train both of those tendencies out of you, or send you to a different class. Is there anyone who would like to leave now?”

The silence was thick as shoulders straightened, and no one took the offered out.

“Good.” She gave them an abrupt nod. “At least the Purge trained the cowardice out of you. It’s up to me to do the rest. To start, I will do my best to make you quit. If you didn’t notice on your way in, there are two chairs placed by the door.”

Heads turned to look.

“In one, you’ll see our class healer. He’s here to make sure you don’t die during training. Wave to the class, Mage Deepwell.”

The healer, with obvious dwarven heritage, looked up from a book he was reading. A pair of lively, blue eyes gleamed with warmth and kindness as he waved at the wide-eyed students. He wasn’t tall, though it was hard to tell with him sitting down. He also wore much more vibrant colors than Pax had seen instructors or healers at the academy wear. His neatly trimmed beard reached almost mid-chest, twirled with a mix of auburn and gray strands. And, while short, he had a wide, robust build, sturdy muscles under tanned and weathered skin that told of a life of both physical labor and healing.

“Ignore how nice he looks. He’s perfectly happy to dive deep in blood and gore to pull your lives back from the brink.”

Instead of repelling Pax, the image stoked his interest in the mage. The more Pax learned about the inner workings of the body under Mage Lorkranna’s tutelage, the more he wanted to understand. Staving off death, his own or his friends, was something he desperately wanted more training in. If Deepwell was here to heal training injuries, he’d be the perfect mage to learn from. Pax resolved to watch everything the man did.

“You’ll notice the empty chair next to Mage Deepwell.” Warwick’s voice pulled his attention back. “It’s a very sturdy and comfortable chair. And on the small table next to it, you will see a tray holding both health and mana potions, just waiting to help you feel better. They look good, don’t they?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Pax instinctively knew better than to nod at the question. Apparently, so did most of the other students. The few who didn’t, attracted Warwick’s piercing gaze. She locked onto a timid looking elven boy.

“You like what you see?”

He gave her the smallest nod, obviously trying to guess what the correct answer was.

“Then, feel free to go have a seat and sip on any of the potions you’d like.” She gave him a smile that looked more predatory than pleasant. “When you’re done, head on over to the administrative building to let them know you need to be reassigned to an easier spell class.”

The boy’s face turned ashen, his entire demeanor unsure as his worried gaze moved between the chair and Mage Warwick.

“Decide and act!” She yelled in a sudden explosion of sound that made everyone jump. “Are you staying or are you quitting?”

He stiffened and held his position, mumbling something too low for Pax to hear.

“Speak up!” She took two steps in the boy’s direction, like a predator ready to pounce.

“I’m staying.” The words came out high-pitched, with an undercurrent of fear. But this time, they were loud enough for everyone to hear.

Mage Warwick took a step back and smiled, still the crazy, scary one, but at least she no longer looked ready to kill him. “Good. Bravery is a critical component to surviving against the hordes. It’s up to me to make sure you have the skills and strength to back it up.”

Pax swallowed hard. Warwick was going to be a very different instructor from Graybrew. Time would tell how painful the class would be. Still, having been so close to death more times than he wanted to count, Pax was more than eager to learn how to avoid such encounters in the future.

“Remember. Any of you can quit at any time during our little training sessions together. All you need to do is walk right over there and have a seat in the very comfortable chair. Once you’ve enjoyed any potions you’d like, you will no longer be in my class. I know my method of training is not for everyone, and I assured the administration that all students would be free to leave. Understand?”

Heads bobbed again, but no one dared speak.

“The answer is Yes, Mage Warwick!”

“Yes, Mage Warwick!” What the ragged chorus lacked for in coordination, it made up for in enthusiasm. No one wanted to be singled out for answering quietly like the earlier student.

“Good. An admirable attempt I’m sure you’ll improve on.” She clapped her hands. “Now let’s get started. First is something I like to call cycled draining training. See, it can’t be that bad if it rhymes, right?”

She didn’t crack a smile and none of the students dared to either. Next, she made an abrupt motion with one hand, and three figures stepped out of thin air holding two padded clubs each. They focused on Warwick like trained hounds waiting for the next order.

The class gasped in amazement. What kind of air spell were they using to have stayed invisible like that for the entire start of class?

“These are my assistants, and your job is to try to kill them with all of your spells until every ounce of mana is gone. Please use any and all training weapons you have, but no live blades. And that’s not to protect my people, but to keep you safe from each other. Remember how mistakes kill people? No friendly fire with your spells, either.” She didn’t even pause when students blanched at her instructions. “My assistants’ job is to beat you silly with their clubs until you give up and sit in the chair. Now, spread out and get ready to start.”

Confusion reigned while they dispersed in awkward movements, many looking unsure of exactly what they were supposed to be doing. A somewhat arrogant girl in the front row finally drummed up enough courage to raise her hand.

Warwick’s brow went up. “Yes?”

“If our mana runs out before others, where do we go while they finish the exercise?”

Warwick scoffed. “The same place you go during a battle to rest and recover while the rest of your crew keeps fighting.”

She looked taken aback, not quite understanding what was obvious to Pax and many of the others. There would be no hand holding here. The plan was obviously to drain their mana and all of their physical strength, until they were on the ground, unable to move or unconscious.

Pax felt handicapped without being able to use his other spells. No one had detected his use of Haste in the past or noticed it was actually a light spell. But how powerful was Mage Warwick and what mana detection skills did she have? Would Pax’s light spells catch her attention? He decided to stick firmly with air spells only while under her direct supervision, even if it left him beaten to a pulp by her assistants.

Though he shivered at the idea, the logic was undeniable. They had access to health and mana potions with a healer standing by. With those safety nets, they could train much more realistically than they had in the past. The closer to real battle the training was, the better they would do, right? Then why hadn’t they trained like this right from the start?

He frowned, knowing the answer. Likely, the pampered students or their parents had balked at the idea of torture on a regular basis. It made sense if they planned to graduate to a cushy position on Salman’s wall. But everyone else who would fight dangerous battles to survive was being cheated out of valuable training. Out on the Tower Ring, it seemed they were much more practical. Now, Mage Warwick had brought that desperation to their training.

Pax gulped. He was both looking forward to and dreading what came next.