Dread crept up my spine as a deep, rumbling growl echoed through the darkness. Amidst the rustling of leaves, a breath hissed from an unseen mouth; it was close. I froze as the creature’s gaze stabbed into my back. My heart pounded as I forced my trembling legs to turn, ignoring my protesting instinct to flee. There it stood, its deep black eyes peering into my soul. I saw hunger, the eyes of a predator marking me as prey. Scrambling, my fingers brushed against rocks and twisted roots, the rough surfaces grazing my skin as I desperately grasped for my spear. I heard the pounding of the beast’s paws as it closed in. I had barely enough time to lift my gaze as it descended, claws outstretched, teeth bared. Its claws sunk into me.

My eyes shot open. My heart raced, and my breath was ragged. I jumped to my feet, searching for my adversary, but I was surrounded by darkness. My mind slowly returned to me, and I remembered that I had slain the mountain lion and made it back to the camp. I wasn’t helpless prey. I had defeated the beast.

I slowly regained my composure as I watched my peers sleeping around me; thankfully, it looked like I hadn’t disturbed any of them. A few rays of light came in through the entryway, so I decided to give up on the notion of sleep. The air was still crisp, and the ground was wet with dew as I stepped out of my shelter.

I sighed. Moving to an open area near the center of the camp, I worked through some calisthenics: push-ups, pull-ups on low-hanging branches, squats, and a few other body-weight activities. With the fear-induced adrenaline finally leaving my body, I made my way to our reservoir and splashed water on my face.

If fear wants to haunt me, then I will put it to work.

Deciding to make myself useful, I collected some kindling and started a small fire. I wasn’t exactly a gifted cook, so I stopped myself from ruining any of our meat and decided to collect some extra firewood until someone of greater culinary skill could wake up and prepare breakfast. Thirty minutes or so and a considerable amount of firewood later, I heard stirring from the shelters, and a few others joined me by the still-burning blaze. I exchanged friendly glances with Brad and Derek and nodded to a few others I hadn’t interacted with yet. Perhaps it was nerves or none of us were morning people, but no one was eager to start a conversation. The same girl who had cooked for us the day before started cutting up meat and then handed chunks over with sticks to skewer them with. Several hands made the work fast, and before long, the sound of chomping mouths and the smell of cooking meat filled the camp. It wasn’t the same as the aroma that filled the tavern every supper—one of spices and dripping fat—but to a hungry stomach, it was heavenly. Soon after, the rest of our countrymen made their way toward the clearing. Someone finally broke the silence, and the sound of various morning greetings began, along with several grunts and other nondescript noises. Before long, every member of the camp was enjoying the pleasure that only a hot breakfast could bring.

“Good morning, Steven,” a pleasant feminine voice called to me through the hustle and bustle of the morning. Turning, I saw Kate approaching me with breakfast in hand.

“May I?” she asked, gesturing toward the space on the log beside me.

“Of course,” I replied. “How did you sleep?

“Not bad, considering,” she said before taking another bite of meat.

I studied her. I wonder if I look as disheveled as she does. Looking around, I noted that, except for Derek, we all looked like we had slept on the dirt. I laughed. Of course we had slept on the dirt, but something about looking like we slept on the dirt was humorous to me. Amused by my own thoughts, I decided to share my earlier revelation with Kate.

“So Kate…” I started. “Had any traumatic experiences lately?” I said with a grin.

Kate looked at me, confused. “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”

With my best straight face, I continued. “Today I made an important discovery. Fear is a great resource; it can restore energy, increase efficiency, and even get you out of bed in the morning.” I paused for effect, attempting a thoughtful expression.

“Just imagine the possibilities…”

She burst out laughing, a delightful sound, though judging by several glares, perhaps a bit loud first thing in the morning.

We finished eating and continued making humorous quips to keep up morale. A bit later, we heard the sound of wagon wheels bumping along on our dirt road. We all prepared to receive our overseer, Sophia, standing at attention in the middle of the clearing. This time our instructorteacher was joined by an older man, though not the nondescript one from the previous ride. This man was…

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Sophia had a sharp look in her eyes as she grinned down at us.

“It looks like you all fared well enough.” Her eyes passed over us, no doubt noting our disheveled forms before taking in the various sights of our slowly forming camp. She made eye contact with me. “From what I can see, you guys are well ahead of the curve. I heard rumors that some classes struggled to get a roof over their heads, even failing to acquire sufficient food or water.” Her eyes lit up for a second before she shook her head. “But Tthat’s the last bit of free information about the other nationssquads/teams/groups/? yYou’ll be getting from me. Reconnaissance will be key to your success. Don’t underestimate the importance of knowing your enemy. Now, it’s time to have some fun. As you all heard, you will be pitted against the other nationsclasses in a simulation of countryon-to-country warfare. You will have the opportunity to experience the politics, the production, and the territorial disputes that will be common should you prevail and rise to the rank of Knight in training. This will be a great opportunity to demonstrate your competence in statecraft, diplomacy, and military leadership.”

She paused dramatically, letting her words sink in. We stood, silent and ready, eyes eager for the glory that awaited us.

“Today, we will determine the hierarchy for your nation. Just like we do in Meritas, we will be holding a tournament. By the end of today, you will have your monarch, lords, and knights. Today’s tournament will measure your individual strength against your peers. Each of you will fight against five different opponents in single combat. Those with the most wins will be awarded their respective titles. Draws will be decided by additional duels until one combatant wins the day.” Pointing to the wagon behind her, she continued. “Everyone will be supplied with either a short sword and shield or a two-handed sword. These are real weapons that will inflict real injuries; that being said, each duel will end in surrender or death. Given the limited number of people in your nation, forcing your opponent to surrender is highly recommended. Even one life lost would give your adversaries an edge. The foolhardy may fight to the death. If they couldn’t, it wouldn’t be a worthy test of strength. The intelligent, however, will fight to victory, not just in the ring, but in the academy itself.” I scanned her face for a hint of humor. This was no joke. We would be risking our lives on the very first official day of the academy.

“You can hardly train for combat without risk,” Sophia continued, “but we do take precautions. She gestured to the man accompanying her. “This is Master Jin. He is a Kismet healer—one of the specialists the academy has employed. He will bring you back to health should you be injured. With that, we’ll get started. Once you have selected your weapon, return to the clearing, and I will give you your fighting assignments.”

Finally, some action! I was confident in my abilities but knew that my winning streak may just reflect the lack of skill in my recent opponents. The backwoods tournaments I had competed in to get into the academy were almost laughable; very few “country cousins,” had formal training. If we were lucky, our parents served in the military or local militia and could teach us outside of work hours. Even then, that was just martial skills; the real disadvantage was the lack of formal education and access to study materials. I was an anomaly in that sense. My gifting had been put to good use from a young age, and my mind had grown alongside my body.

I chuckled as I recalled the bewildered look on my father’s face when he had found me sitting with a traveler at our tavern, staring wide-eyed at a book. It was the first book I had ever seen—a great treasure to my four-year-old self. The gracious traveler had been kind enough to let me sit with him for the rest of that night. That was the first time I had an extended look at the written language. In our small village, the only other place to find reading materials was the general shop, but the owner was a stickler and guarded such precious materials with a vengeance. So I sat there that night, wide-eyed, taking in the symbols that held the secrets of the world. And, due to my gift, I had remembered it all.

Over the next several weeks, I had, to my parents’ confusion, spent long hours staring off into space. I used the time to study the letters until I finally grasped the sound and meaning of each word that I’d committed to memory. That very first book happened to contain the legend of our nation’s formation and the conquest of our grand champion. It detailed how Daniel had arisen amid the tyrannical Aeon empire, fighting for the freedom and future of his people. Thinking back, I can never help but be gripped with conviction; one man faced death and the weight of leadership head-on and changed the destiny of all future generations. Several hundred years later, the ripples of his decision leave their mark on every citizen of Meritas. The champion had shared his rallying cry on the day of the new nation’s birth. “When the time comes, and tyranny is knocking at our doors, will you stand? When all others have traded truth for lies, will you succumb? When all hope rests on your shoulders, will you bear it? Who among you would dare to suffer for your children? All of you, I’d wager. But who would dare to suffer for a stranger? Who would dare to die?”

A clap on the back woke me from my reverie. I was the last to choose a weapon. I approached the wagon at once and took up the sword and shield. Walking back toward the rest of the class, I felt a fire in my stomach; something in me demanded a response to the champion’s challenge. I will stand in the face of fear. I will go where no one else dares follow. And when all others have lost hope, abandoned courage, and succumbed to treachery, I will stand.