After two days of bumpy travel in the back of the wagon, Otter was sore and stiff. He’d gotten out and walked from time to time, but the horses pulling the cart were hearty beasts, maybe even imbued with some magic, and they set a pace he couldn’t keep up for long.

But now he was reinvigorated by the sight of The Academy looming in the distance, its stone towers rising above the city of Aurelia like ancient sentinels. The late afternoon sun bathed the campus in golden light, casting long shadows across the sprawling grounds.

Otter shifted on his seat as the wagon rumbled along the cobblestone path. The closer they got to the towering gates, the tighter the knot in his stomach grew.

The gates themselves were carved with intricate symbols—representations of the core adventuring classes: Fighter, Spell Lord, Divine Conduit, Scout, and Dungeoneer.

Above the arch, the Academy’s motto was etched in bold letters: Strength in Order.

The wagon came to a halt, and the recruits began climbing out. Otter slung his satchel over his shoulder and followed, his boots crunching on the gravel path. Theirs was not the only wagon there. Several others were also arriving, spilling their passengers onto the cul-de-sac before the gates.

The crowd of new recruits buzzed with both excitement and nervousness, their chatter filling the air. Most recruits wore their class badges for all to see. Some spoke of family and comforts they’d left behind. Others were too busy unloading crates, bags, and chests to bother with conversation. Was that their personal belongings? Otter wondered.

He stood quietly next to Erin taking it all in. Even with her familiar presence, he couldn't help but feel out of place.

Eventually, everyone had debarked and the wagons and carriages pulled away one by one. Once they were gone, the gates slowly creaked open and the crowd fell silent in anticipation. Slowly, they filed inside, making their way into the grand courtyard, a sprawling open space with marble columns and towering statues of legendary adventurers.

Otter’s eyes were wide at the grandeur.

“Who are they?” Erin whispered, pointing at rows of people standing between the statues, watching the new recruits as they filed past.

A raised platform took up one end of the courtyard, and a solitary figure stood upon it.

Murmurs rippled through the assembled recruits. While no one had given them any direction, as one they made their way to stand before the platform, gazing up at the imposing figure. He was tall with a stern expression and piercing eyes that seemed to see straight through you. His suit was a deep blue, edged with silver trim, and he carried a staff carved with runes that glowed faintly in the fading light.

“Welcome to the Adventurers’ Academy,” the man began, his voice deep and commanding. All whispered conversation fell quiet. “I am Headmaster Voss. You have been chosen to join our ranks because you possess something special. Strength. Intelligence. Dexterity. But most importantly…” His gaze swept over the crowd. “…potential.”

Otter swallowed hard as Voss’s eyes lingered on him for a brief moment.

“Some of you were born into privilege. Others clawed your way here through sheer grit. It doesn’t matter how you arrived. What matters is what you do from this moment on.”

He took a step forward, the tap of his staff on the stone platform echoing through the courtyard.

“The Academy exists to prepare you for the challenges ahead,” Voss continued. “But let me be clear: this is not a place for weakness or hesitation. It is a place where hard work, determination, and adaptability will carry you farther than any badge or title ever could.”

Voss paused, letting his words sink in.

“Strength, intelligence, agility—these things will only take you so far. It is your character that will determine whether you rise… or whether you fall.”

Several recruits exchanged glances, uncertain. Voss noticed and allowed a small, knowing smile to curve his lips.

“Some of you are already thinking, ‘I have a Class. I’ve already been chosen by the System. I’m destined for greatness.’”

His smile faded, replaced by a steely gaze.

“Let me make one thing clear: Your Class is not your destiny. It is only a tool. A sword rusts if it’s left unused. A mind grows dull if it’s not sharpened. Your success will not be handed to you. It will be earned through sweat, persistence, and failure.”

Voss turned, gesturing to the towering statues of legendary adventurers that lined the courtyard.

“These heroes? They were not born great. They became great. Every one of them faced hardships, setbacks, and doubts. But they endured. They kept moving forward when others gave up.”

He turned back to the recruits, his expression grave.

“Make no mistake: You will fail here. You will fall short. You will be tested—physically, mentally, and emotionally. But what matters is not how many times you fail. It’s how many times you stand back up.”

Voss’s gaze settled briefly on Otter, then swept across the rest of the crowd.

“This Academy and the System will not make you into something you are not. It will uncover what is already there. You will be pushed beyond your limits. And in the end, the person you become will be determined by the choices you make.”

He raised his staff, pointing toward the gates of the Academy.

“The gates to opportunity and advancement are open to you. But make no mistake—they will not stay open forever. You have earned your place here, but you must fight to keep it.”

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The recruits stood in silence, hanging on his every word.

He gestured to the hundreds of students standing on the sides. “Those gathered here have taken the first steps already, just as you are about to. They are second and third year students. They witness your arrival and welcome you with open arms. They will be your mentors, your leaders, and your companions in the years to come. Heed their advice.”

Voss lowered his staff, his tone softening just slightly.

“Your journey begins now. Whether you rise to greatness, or fall to obscurity, is entirely up to you. The only thing that will carry you forward is you.”

He stepped back, the finality of his words settling over the courtyard like a weight.

“Welcome to the Adventurers’ Academy.”

With that, he turned and strode away, leaving the recruits to absorb the gravity of what lay ahead.

Immediately, wrisplays all over the courtyard began to light up. Otter checked the incoming notification on his.

You have been INSPIRED. For the next hour, you gain advantage on all ability, skill, and attack rolls.

Otter really didn’t know what that meant. Headmaster Voss’s speech had certainly been inspiring. In fact, he felt more confident already, like maybe he could actually accomplish something here. But that feeling deflated when he realized he had no idea what an ability, skill, or attack roll was. He knew what his skills were, but he didn’t have any special abilities. He assumed those came with a class. As for attack rolls, he’d never been in a real fight before. He looked at Erin. “Any idea what that means?”

She shrugged. “Not really.”

A few people appeared to share their confusion, but most were nodding with approval.

Otter shook his head. It was one more thing he needed to figure out.

The second and third year students began to disperse. A handful remained behind, rushing up to the platform where Headmaster Voss had stood moments earlier.

“Listen up, rooks,” one of them called out.

The speaker was a lean, wiry boy with sun-darkened skin and a mop of messy brown hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in days. His uniform, though neat, showed signs of wear—frayed at the edges and patched in a few places, a tarnished Scout badge pinned to his chest.

“We’re your Resident Advisors,” he continued. “We’re here to get you settled and go over a few ground rules. First things first. If your last name begins with A through C, line up over here!”

Otter nodded to Erin, then quickly stepped into his assigned line, clutching his satchel as a few others joined him. He recognized two of them—Lyle and Torrin, boys from Brighthaven that he only knew in passing. The rest were strangers, their eyes darting around the Academy grounds with a mix of excitement and nervous energy.

The Scout moved efficiently, breaking the recruits into smaller groups and assigning each to a different RA. Once he was finished, he trotted over to stand in front of Otter’s group.

“All right, rooks,” he said, his gaze sweeping over them. “My name’s Cal, and I’m your Resident Advisor for the year. Let’s get you over to the dorms and get settled. Keep up.”

Without waiting for a response, Cal turned on his heel and took off down a stone pathway, his steps quick and purposeful.

Otter and the others hurried to follow, their boots thudding against the cobblestones.

The Academy was huge.

Cal led them past sprawling buildings made of gray stone, their windows glinting in the late afternoon light. Towers spiraled upward into the sky, their silhouettes sharp against the horizon.

They passed a training field where some students practiced sparring. The clash of steel rang through the air as pairs of fighters circled each other, their movements swift and precise. Nearby, a group of Spell Lords practiced casting spells, glowing runes floating in the air around them.

“Those are second years,” Cal informed them. “Notice their uniforms. First year’s get black, second-years blue, and third years maroon.”

The recruits stared, wide-eyed.

Otter tried to take it all in, but the twisting paths and towering buildings made it hard to keep track of where they were. The alleys and courtyards reminded him of the canals in Brighthaven—narrow, winding, and easy to get lost in if you didn’t know the way.

Cal seemed to know every twist and turn by heart.

“Stay close,” he called over his shoulder. “This place is a maze.”

They hurried after him, weaving through covered walkways, passing under archways carved with intricate symbols. Finally, they arrived at a large stone building with a sloped roof and wide wooden doors.

Cal pushed the doors open, revealing a long hallway lined with numbered doors on either side. Lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the polished wood floors.

“Welcome to the dormitories,” Cal said, stepping aside to let them file in. “You’ll be sharing these halls with second- and third-years, so mind your manners. You’ll each have your own room. It’s small, but it’s yours.”

Otter glanced around, noting how quiet it was inside. The distant hum of conversation echoed from somewhere deeper in the building, but for the most part, the dormitory was calm—peaceful even.

“Room assignments are posted on the board,” Cal continued, nodding toward a corkboard near the entrance. “Find your name, find your room, and get settled. Curfew’s at nine. Orientation begins at dawn in the common room just down the hall. Questions?”

One of the other recruits raised a hand hesitantly. “What happens if we’re late for curfew?”

Cal grinned faintly. “You don’t want to find out.”

Otter found his name quickly—Room 17—and made his way down the hall. His boots creaked against the floor as he walked, the sound oddly loud in the quiet corridor.

When he reached his door, he paused, resting his hand on the brass handle for a moment before pushing it open.

The room was small but clean. A single bed, a wooden desk, and a wardrobe were all neatly arranged. A window above the desk overlooked the training fields, and from here, Otter could see the distant spires of the main building.

He set his satchel down on the bed and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“This is it,” he whispered to himself.

After a moment, he opened his satchel and began unpacking his few belongings. He placed Erin’s leather notebook on the desk, his old one in a desk drawer. He opened the wardrobe to put away his clothes and discovered two brand new Academy uniforms hanging within.

He wasn’t sure what to do with his knife. He didn’t know if he was allowed to carry it around campus or if he should stash it in his room somewhere. For the time being, he slipped it underneath the mattress.

With all his belongings put away, he thought he’d take some time to explore. It was only early evening. There was plenty of time before curfew to find something to eat. Maybe locate the library. If nothing else, he could start a new map. One of the Academy.

As he began to open the door to his room he heard voices outside and something made him pause. He put his ear to the door.

“...can’t believe he’s actually here.”

“What were they thinking? Inviting a Classless.”

“I bet he washes out within the week.”

Laughter followed before the voices faded away.

Otter felt his cheeks heating up. For a long moment, he just stood there, their words echoing through his mind. The familiar sting of doubt crept in. He thought he’d left the doubters and naysayers behind. How had they found out? It had to have been those other boys from Brighthaven.

“Let them think what they want,” he muttered under his breath. The desire to explore had fled.

He grabbed his notebook, flipped to a blank page, and wrote a single line at the top:

Objective: Prove Them Wrong.

If the System wouldn’t give him one, he’d do it himself.