The carriage bumped along the rocky path. I looked out the misted windows; the trees staggered along beside me; it was the first time I had seen the surroundings of the marquis' estate. The vibrant emerald leaves rustled in time with the wind that sang through the open sapphire sky.

The world had never felt so full and boundless. I was off on an adventure I've only ever read about! I wonder if I am strong enough to be on par with the soldiers on the frontline. I couldn't help but be worried, thinking along that line… It was time for my next set; I had upped my pushups, sit-ups, and everything else to twenty sets of fifty daily.

It had been two weeks since leaving the estate, and exercising helped eliminate the ache of constant bumping. At least I would feel the delicious ache of knowing I was getting stronger over the rattling of my bones the carriage encouraged. We barely ever stopped, only to rest the horses or switch them out for a new pair. If we had used magic, it would have been four times as fast, but that was a luxury the current me would not have been given.

Finally, after weeks of the terror that carriages brought, I was on solid land; the firm, cool soil of the north greeted my wobbling legs. "We have five more miles to go, young lord'" the coachman said with a sneer; throughout the journey, those sent to escort me did not forget the slaughter the marquis had administered on their fellow servants and took out their frustration on me. Autumn had been stamping her foot, all the while fuming with anger at their sarcastic remarks and belittling attitudes. Yet, it was a relief. That's all they could do.

I take that back.

A shovel hurtled towards me, but I was able to dodge it because of the scream of my fairy friend. "don't be such a wuss. This is payback for what you did to my brother," a voice filled with anger spit.

I jumped back and, reaching for my sword, realized that it was still in the back of the carriage. I grimaced at my stupidity and eyed my opponents. There were three in total: two soldiers and one coachman; my father had organized just a few lousy personnel to escort me.

But I guess that works in my favor; I've never fought real humans before! The two knights came towards me with large clubs and the coachman with his shovel. "We were told to deliver you in one piece, and as long as you're in one piece, that's good enough for the marquis," said one of the knights, brandishing his weapon with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Talking was useless. They had already made up their minds; I could see in their anger-filled eyes that they pinned the blame on me and would release their frustration on me, the weak one. I moved first, fleeing into the forest behind me. I could hear them cursing and then begin their chase. The shovel boy led their pursuit as I swung up into a nearby tree.

The biggest one went last, stumbling around the heavily rooted trees with his bulky armor, clearly not suited for forest fights. When he got far enough behind the other two, I jumped from my tree and sailed through the sky, drop-kicking him right in the face and feeling a satisfying crunch. He lay groaning on the ground, holding his bloody nose; I wasted no time and, pouring magic into my heel, stomped down with all my strength.

If he got up and stabbed me in the back, there would be a problem. I had gotten a lot stronger since fighting the boar, for the soldier had stopped wriggling and lay still with that one stomp. His teeth were broken in, and his head held an indent of my heel. Noises came from behind. The other two had heard our scuffle and hurried back.

Quickly, I took a pointy stone from my pocket and let it fly at the oncoming soldier. It hit him square in the nose, and he dropped his bat to clutch at it, squealing in pain. In three big leaps, I was upon him and twisting my lower body into a spring shot up into an uppercut, which snapped back the soldier's head.

He keeled over, dead or unconscious; I had no idea. The last one, the shovel boy, saw the scene, dropped the shovel, and took off screaming. I sprinted after him and only after a few seconds snagged his collar. "Please, please don't kill me," he whimpered, snot covering his hands. "It wasn't my idea…"

Not bothering with words, I dragged him back towards the carriage past the unmoving bodies of the soldiers. When we finally arrived at the carriage, he bent over and vomited on the roadside, stomach heaving.

"Let's go," I said and climbed into the carriage.

Hurridly, shovel boy practically flew to grab the horse reigns, and we continued our journey without further interruption.

"Do you think there will be more bad people like those guys?" Jam said the bird had been hiding from afar as soon as we first encountered the Shovel Boy. She had fluttered around me, checking for any signs of injury.

Through my months of living with her, I found that her wind magic was only for strengthening her speed so she could hunt more efficiently. I could see why people wanted to force her into servitude; her spy capabilities were amazing.

"Most likely, that's why I must get stronger," I said, peering down on my blood-spattered shoe. I had a decent amount of strength, but I didn't know how to use it properly. I hoped that the frontlines gave good training.

Jam and I talked for the next hour or so until we neared the towering base of the North.

The small, now deeply respectful voice of Shovel Boy called back from the front of the carriage, "We have arrived, young lord; I wish you success and fortune."

I turned my gaze outside. A large looming base stood powerful and tall amongst the trees; soldiers stood positioned at the entryway, clad in full metal armor, standing straight and big just like their base.

The shovel boy was waiting to help me down, and I smirked at his change in behavior.

As soon as my luggage was placed beside me, the carriage was off horses clattering like made through the narrow road that led to the base. Picking up my bags, I walked myself to the gates and, after a few sidelong glances, was let through with my identification papers.

The marquis had sent me to the very place I wanted to go. He thought that the Duke's land would be the harshest for me because he was at odds with the Duke. However, the Duke based his ranks not on nobles or commoners but on who was the strongest. If I can prove my worth, it won't matter that I am an "illegitimate son."

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Inside the base, there was a buzz of activity, with men training, eating, and talking. I felt my eyes burning into the back of my head. It made sense. I was dressed like a fragile nobleman who had never worked a day in his life. I had to ask for directions and was directed to a wooden building that looked like it was meant for the commander.

As I walked in, all eyes shifted towards me, and then an older man looking to be in his mid-thirties got up and walked towards me. He looked strong and bright; his hair was spun gold and tied up in a knot. His figure was heavy set, filled to the brim with muscles. "It's been a while since we have been sent nobility. I hope you know that there will be no special treatment. The north is not equipped to handle babies."

Although his words were rough, his voice was light, and there was no menace in his piercing grey eyes. He must be the Duke I've heard so much about, straight to the point and blunt.

"I will fight with my all, sir," I replied.

There were some sniggers around the room, but I didn't have time to register much because I was excused and was being led to the sleeping quarters. The boy who escorted me looked young and bright, maybe early twenties.

He showed me around the base first, showing me the canteen, training grounds, strategizing rooms, and more. It also seemed like the base was not the only thing he was showing off. As soon as I entered each place, I could feel eyes on me. Everyone would now know me as the noble, probably dishonored or unruly, so I was sent to the front lines.

I didn't say much as I was finally led to the sleeping quarters to unpack. The young man, who introduced himself as Arnold, was friendly enough and told me I could always come to him if I had any questions. He also told me that I needed to be down at 5 am tomorrow and be ready for morning training.

As the "son" of a noble, the high-ranking marquis, I got my own room. It was probably also due to the Marquis pulling some strings. This was a great luxury but also a good way to hide that I was a girl. I whispered for Jam, and she flashed to my side. It was best that she hid from prying eyes and only showed herself when we were alone.

"Do you think you can gather information about the monsters?" I asked. It would be helpful to get my hands on anything to see how I should move forward.

"Right away," Jam saluted and disappeared.

I let out a sigh and collapsed on the firm wooden bed, made of better quality than the one at the marquis's estate. I quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Jolting awake and shaking off the nightmare that plagued me, I heard voices outside. It must be time for training; I shrugged on a simple black uniform that each soldier was given and opened the door to my new world.

It was early in the morning, but the whole base was bustling with noise and nervousness. I headed towards the training area and was surprised that there were around fifty new recruits like me, men in training. Was the rest of them on the frontlines fighting already? They were all older than me, ages ranging from twenty to forties. I slipped into the back as the commander who trained the new recruits barked orders.

"Today, you all will start with a warm-up of three miles and continue on to a hundred pushups and sit-ups. Remember, you all volunteered for this, so I expect no complaining."

A ripple of groans came from the recruits, but there was no time to complain as we had already started.

Because of the wind magic support, my organs had a nice upgrade, and a few miles did nothing to dent my stamina. Maybe now I am at the toes of the track runners in my old school; they would run mile upon mile and curse themselves for not running a five-minute mile each time.

I found myself in a small group that ran ahead of everyone, those behind eyed us with a mixture of jealousy, curiosity, and exhaustion. To my right was an older man in his mid-twenties to thirties; his back was broad, his muscles bulged from the thin shirt, and a long beard wrapped around his chin gave him a Viking feel. He was, in all probability, a farmer who could run very well. It was surprising how fast and far such a bulky man could go.

To my left was a young man in his twenties; his breathing was controlled but filled with fatigue. He was clean-shaven with hair as bright and gold as fresh wheat. They sweated profusely, straining their calf muscles to the extreme. I felt kind of bad for how easy it all was to me, so I also began to pant and look tired.

Finally, after the fifth hill, the group was allowed to rest. While the recruits chugged down water, they got to know each other. I glanced around, and it seemed that factions were forming already; the recruits split into two sides, the noble and the commoner groups. I stood in the back, not participating. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to choose sides so early in the beginning of training.

I thought too soon. A voice behind me jerked me to my feet. "What's Mr. Noble doing sitting here all by himself? Is baby homesick for mommy?" A young man out of breath but trying to conceal it spoke with a condescending tone.

He had a shock of bright orange hair, and freckles were scattered across his face like seeds. He was more than likely a farmhand eager for the thrill of the hunt and to make himself look tough in front of the other trainees.

I ignored his presence, which made the boy angry, and he kicked me hard in the ribs. "Can't say or do anything, what a waste of space." He started to get more and more irritated when I didn't react and stared up into the blue sky. All eyes were on us, and the staring of so many people made me want to tear their eyeballs from their sockets.

Puffed up with the attention, the boy was about to send another kick my way when the commander shouted the break was over.

After the "warm up" we were taken back to the barracks to start with weapon training. I found it all to be quite exciting my heart beating with anticipation.

The instructor, a heavy-set man who looked battle-hardened, stood with a peg leg and scars stretched across his bearded face. He looked over the recruits he stood tiredly at attention and gestured to a rack filled with wooden weapons. "Take what you think you can handle and start hitting the straw men over in the corner."

The rack had four options: spear, sword, bow, and war hammer. I was in a dilemma and didn't know which to choose. I really wanted to try all of them and see which I felt most comfortable with. I rushed to the rack with the others and barely grabbed a sword before taking every practice weapon.

The training here was quite lovely; they even let you choose a weapon. It might be because so many people who were inept with an unfit weapon kept dying to monsters. The Duke must have scheduled the training to focus on the individual qualities of each soldier, leading to a lower mortality rate during battle.

[Ding Dong, new quest: find the right weapon for you +1 levels.]

I was amazed at the system; it really was tailor-made to fit me.

This was the most romanticized weapon in all the books I had read; knights of chivalry and value rescued maidens and fought the most-vilest of creatures with its double-edged blade.

I took the unbalanced wooden hilt in my hands and struck the scarecrow with all my might and the scarecrow made of strong stuff just took it all, and my whole body vibrated with the force. I felt like I was hitting concrete.

he instructor stared at the disgusting form of the new recruits, who were hacking with vigor at their wooden enemies and hitting his thigh with a loud lap and started laughing. Everyone except those who knew how to swing their weapon felt embarrassed and stopped their terrible swinging. The instructor wiped tears from his eyes and began to show us the proper way to use each weapon. Showing just a few basic moves so as to not let bad habits build up.

Trying to copy his movements from the podium he stood on, my wild hacking became more refined and wasted less effort. This practice went on into the afternoon and stopped only when the sun started to set. Everyone, being too tired to talk, ate as fast as they could and hurried off to bed.

The first day was closing, and I felt my muscles scream with fatigue; my mind was filled with the angles of the vertical and horizontal slashes. They formed a simple pattern of eight different directions to swing.

Breathing and stance were also an important part of the basics. I went to the well and brought two buckets of water to my room to take a bath and rid myself of the sweat I had worked up.

Before that, I practiced proper stance, feeling the logical way of standing with feet paced apart and the left foot higher while the right supported weight from the back, and I felt that I was much more difficult to knock down than if I was standing with feet side by side knees slightly bent.