Fully armored in perfectly white armor with a few silver ornaments I marched proudly towards the training ground, which by now was surrounded by quite a large group of recently training newbies.

Tha! ‘Newbies’ - even if I call them so as they were just cadets, the Silver Lion’s House does not invite rookies. I heard that to send your application you either needed to prove yourself as an adventurer, serve as one for quite some time, prove your worth during your quests, or be recommended by one of the Lions.

Of course, many tried becoming a cadet. Even if you couldn’t make it into the House you could still learn for a few weeks from the best trainers in the entire kingdom, though, usually, they left fairly quickly, not being able to withstand the tempo.

Because of that, I could be quite sure that those with whom I would deal with would be veterans of quite a few dungeons.

Trying to act as full of dignity as possible, I stopped in the middle of a ring made with small stones in the training ground, unsheathed my blade, and put its tip on the ground, resting myself on it as on makeshift support. Lowering my head, I waited.

“Oi, look at him! Acting like a champion already!” I heard a mocking tone from the edge of the camp. “Cut him some slack. He is a noble, they need to act this way - just like Greg. Not to mention that he was the one that delivered the finishing blow on that Undead Lord yesterday… or so I heard.” “Really!? Is that him?” “You heard Cap Godric, he said that the new guy came yesterday, three days earlier than it was anticipated, and who got the Undead Lord? The warriors which none of us saw earlier! And right away he was told to join the Captains in their tent! Coincidence?” “I don’t feel like going against someone that took down an Undead Lord…” “Idiots! He just backstabbed him as he was distracted with that Lich! Any of us could have done that! He has as much skills and courage as a port’s thug!”

Finally, someone decided to enter the small ring. That man wasn’t tall - quite the opposite, few women from my village would be taller than him. I would take him for a child if not a bushy mustache over his mouth.

“My name is Gregory! Listen here, fresh meat - I will be the first one to be chosen as a Knight of the Silver Lion! And as for you… You are nothing! Till you would prove yourself and...”

And there I was simply standing, wondering what the hell was that guy’s problem while waiting for him to end his rant. In the meantime, his friends were just having uneasy expressions, clearly humiliated by his behavior.

But, eventually, the man finished his monologue and readied his weapon - a two-handed sword, I would risk implying that it was a bit too big for him. Well, appearance is often deceptive, therefore I braced myself deciding to treat him seriously. His huge weapon had an advantage of range over me, also, if he was able to deliver powerful strikes, my shield might not be enough to hold it. I will need to wait for the right moment for a counter, hoping that slowed down by his weapons he wouldn’t manage to react in time.

And so, my first opponent charged at me. Fairly early, he raised his weapon far over his head. There was no way he could be this stupid - leaving so many openings and throwing his hands behind his head almost begging to be stabbed, so, I just stepped to the side.

His weapon fell down on the ground, cracking the dried soil, and raising a small dust cloud.

He was… slow. I expected an attack or a twist of his body to punish me for a sudden rush, but it never came

The man quickly regained his balance, yet he still lost a few precious seconds during which I relocated myself to his side and slashed, quickly aiming between his ribs. Very narrowly, he responded raising his weapon vertically and blocking the attack. Yet still, the sheer force made him take two or three steps back.

He chose his weapon poorly for his enemy. Greatswords were wonderful against slow, low-rank undead because they almost never reacted to mistakes and you needed lots of strength to cut them down. But this time, he wasn’t fighting with a mere undead…

…. I mean, he was! But unlike the rest of them, I was able to observe and learn.

He needed time to change his stance and once again take initiative. The time that I was not going to give him. I kept on attacking, pressing forward, a tempest of weak blows which he couldn’t just ignore. Eventually, I changed my tempo and delivered three stronger blows which completely pushed him off his balance making him stumble back. Then, I raised my leg and kicked him in the guts, making him collapse on the ground.

This extremely short and unrewarding battle ended with me putting my blade to my opponent's throat.

“O-ho. Fresh meat defeated Greg…” someone from the crowd noticed. “Who hasn’t…” yet another person added. “Wait, now he’s going to drop his usual line!”

Gregory, now laying on the ground, nodded his head a few times acknowledgment.

“I see! You are truly worthy of joining the ranks of the cadets! Even more! I hereby consider you my rival!” “That would be his sixteenth rival this month...” the crowd kept on mocking.

I put my blade aside and stretched my hand offering him help in getting up. With gratitude he accepted it and soon one again he stood on his own two legs. As he was cleaning himself off the dust he warned me:

“It's a shame to admit it… but from all the cadets I am the weakest. Prepare yourself. Your duels will be harder…” “If I may suggest…” I allowed myself to disturb him “... try picking a different weapon. Two-handed swords clearly don’t fit you.” “No can do! Everyone in my family is or was an adventurer, and each of us used two-handed swords! It’s even in our family crest! It’s tradition!” “I take that everyone in your family is taller than you…” at first, he turned his face away, but eventually nodded “...Tradition is a codex which should simplify matters, if you can’t follow it regardless of the reason, instead of helping, it’s hampering the user. Why does your family require its members to be an adventurer? To show them with a sword on their backs, or to serve some greater purpose?” “It’s… because we were once commoners. My great-great-grandfather was given a title because he saved countless lives. And he didn’t want us to become spoiled with our titles, therefore he said: each of you must serve everyone for at least three years. This way you will remember that your title is a responsibility, not a privilege.”

I was actually taken aback. That was truly a wonderful cause.

“Then serve those people. But… with a shorter blade. I believe that Captain Godrick will be happy to find you a more fitting weapon.”

The crowd for a moment became quiet. Even Godric, who up until now was standing at the ring’s edge leaned forward.

“But… My entire family…If I would give up now... I was mocked this entire time for not being able to use it as well as my older brothers…” he appeared to be battling with his thoughts. “And you probably never will…” I said with a soft tone “... All of us are beings born with certain predispositions. It is said that Grand Magus Merlin ignited candles next to his cradle the day after he was born… Yet, at the same time, fish will never learn how to fly. But it’s ok. There are other things you may excel in! You don’t have to blindly follow your tradition. Your credo says that you are a protector of the weak. Your ancestor was a commoner. He was the first one to become a noble in your family. Don’t be afraid of being first at something! Stop just blindly following someone’s footsteps, or else you will never manage to go further than that person. Instead, be someone who would make a new tradition! Be someone, whose footsteps your great-great-grandson would want to follow.”

I said that while putting my hand on his shoulder, trying to offer him as much reassuring as it was only possible.

“You… might be right. Hah. Using two-handed weapons would only get myself killed… I think that I will ask Sir Godric for guidance later…” “Impossible… he actually talked some sense into Greg’s dense head…” crowd one again let out a whisper or two.

This man, Greg, was somewhat similar to Eric. He needed some kindness instead of mockery to truly shine…

… no. These two were nothing alike. Gregory was clearly a hardworking type. He is the kind of a man that doesn’t know the word “failure”, only “practice”. His spirit is wonderful and his intentions are pure… while Eric… was a roach in human skin. Always choose the easiest option, always giving up after each and every failure. He needed compliments to keep on trying again…

Later, I will try buying Greg a mug of beer. This way, at least, I will be able to apologize to him for the offense of comparing him to this… traitorous leech.

With a somewhat uneasy mood plastered all over his face, my self-declared rival left the ring.

“Okay, guys, keep on coming! Thomas! You are next!” Godric yelled.

The next person to enter the ring was quite a giant. I was the tallest man back at the village (not counting a certain half-orc), and I got another two or three inches upon ranking up on the ladder, yet this man was still half-head taller than me.

He also was carrying a two-handed weapon - an axe, but damn, I was quite sure that he was able to use it with only one.

“Hey! Fresh meat! Good luck!” someone cheered from the crowd. “Thomas! Don’t you dare do the same thing to him that you did to Greg when he was fresh meat!”

This walking mountain approached me casually, only once he got closer, I could see his warm and gentle eyes.

“Well, hello there! We were told that we should call you Alabaster! Nice to meet you! Name’s Thomas. I am looking forward to working with you in the future!”

He stretched his arm for a handshake. I wasn’t rude enough to not accept it.

“Pleasure is mine.” I inclined my head slightly. “Please, don’t go easy on me, because, unfortunately, neither can I. I wish to apologize in advance if I get carried away! That happens quite often when I have too much fun.”

After this short interaction, Thomas took a few steps back readying for battle. We gazed at one another for a moment or two, before he rushed at me.

Yes, the speed, the fluidity of his moves, and the technique alone - they were completely different from Greg.

I moved back, just in time to avoid getting myself split in two by an axe which fell from above. Then, right away, I tried to pounce forward piercing with my sword. Yet, Thomas quickly raised the hilt of his weapon pushing my blade aside. As my weapon was no longer able to threaten him from this angle, he twisted and raised his weapon from the ground and performed a pirouette, adding more momentum to the blow.

There was no way I could dodge that, so I raised my shield and braced for impact.

My whole body resonated in shock, as my feet dug deeper into the soft soil of the sparring ring.

I knew what was coming next - after the first blow, there could only be another!

With my vision still covered with a raised shield, I decided to trust my instinct. I put one of my feet behind me, and as I heard the sound of axe cutting through the air, I shifted my body weight back doing a pirouette of my own.

The head of the axe barely missed me, yet my sword was already flying toward Thomas’ arm… just to stop on his shoulder guard.

Not enough! I pushed onward. Delivering a blow after blow making my opponent fall back, looking for some place to force his axe into motion - I couldn’t let that happen!

Body to body, I kept on chasing after him slashing with sword and even bashing with the shield. Thomas would eventually push me away using his axe as a pole, continuing the battle at a much more steady pace.

The blows kept on falling from both sides without doing much damage to neither of us, yet they were slowly wearing the axe-wielder down. Each of his subsequent attacks was slightly slower and weaker.

Till, eventually, I managed to completely overpower him. Making it look like a desperate act, I started smashing and bashing almost blindly, delivering a tempest of blows upon the gentle giant. First, I made him stumble, then fall, on one of his knees. The next cascade of blows eventually managed to disarm him, sending his axe flying a few meters away.

Breathing heavily, Thomas, still kneeling, raised his hands above in a gesture of surrender - he didn’t even have strength left to talk.

At the same time, I remembered to make my shoulder go noticeable up and down, as if I was panting, while in reality, I was as good as new.

“Fuck… he really defeated Thomas… And despite being the second youngest, he was actually best of us…” someone in the crowd mumbled. “Yeah, but look at him, he is barely standing! Shame, Thomas should act like a boss, waiting at the very end… who knows, maybe this fresh meat could even beat his record of winning seven fights…” “We will never know it… His next fight will be his last. Joseph. Your turn.” “Neh! There is no fun beating senseless someone that is barely standing… Sorry fresh meat, but I can’t just let you go! These are the rules…”

Said the next man who entered the ring…

… the very same man that was carried away from the ring by two other warriors three minutes later.

‘Breathing’ even heavier I awaited my next opponent.

And then another one. And another. And yet another.

Till eventually, I won my eighth fight bashing yet another cadet with my shield in the face, knocking him unconscious.

“No way…” said one of the two remaining cadets that were watching this spectacle - the ‘seniors’ in the craft, those who joined the cadet's squad before all of us “... just what is this guy made of!?” “Sorry…” I said readying my weapon again “... But I promised to achieve something… and this much… is nothing compared to it. I can’t allow myself to lose here. Not so quickly!”

I made another step, and ‘collapsed’ on the knee, just to raise up using my sword as a support.

The ninth man fell down as well, by nothing but “luck”. A blind slash of the man on the edge of collapsing.

The last cadet was fighting like a beast from the very start. He kept on slashing, piercing, cutting, and dancing like a possessed beast showing what he learned up until now. He tried to beat me from the start, not wanting me to make a new record even more “humiliating” for them. I could see the irritation in his eyes as his strikes were getting more and more furious.

I am not going to lie, keeping up with them was hard to even without pretending how tired I was. As I was delivering my ‘last’ attacks I was screaming at the top of my lungs (which I didn’t have). Truthfully, the act of “being tired” was starting to become more difficult to manage than the actual fight itself.

One last cascade of blows. Bash with a shield to break his stance, and then attacking with a sword from above. With neither elegance nor grace, treating it nearly as a hammer. The first strike - he dodged, second - he blocked. Third one… landed on his face. My armored fist holding an iron hilt of the sword landed between his eyebrows.

He flashed me the whites of his eyes before collapsing on the ground.

And then, the whole camp cheered.

Too busy acting exhausted I failed to notice when more warriors - not cadets, but official knights of the Silver Lion gathered wanting to see the initiations of the ‘new guy’.

“Fresh meat won ten battles in a row! That’s something! When was the last time this happened? Not in the last two generations, right?” one of the elite champions praised. “Yeah, even Sir Godric managed to win only nine… I think that Sir Nicolai could be the only living knight of the order that did that…” “So… what happens next? Can he just go or…”

Obviously! Who else am I supposed to duel? - I asked myself a question.

“Ha-ha! Nooo! He needs to keep fighting. Since he defeated all cadets, he will start dealing with regular knights of the order! Then champions, then Captains, and then Sir Nicolai! It doesn’t end until he either wins it all or will be dragged away!”

… You must be shitting me! After the first fight, I barely won the rest! Only because I fooled my enemies that I am barely standing making them act more aggressively and thus commit more mistakes! Most of them bested me in terms of skills alone, and now you want to drop me between the most elite knights of this country!? You have lost your mind! Agh! I also played up my “tired” act to the brink as well, can’t go back on it now!

“So… who is the youngest knight?” a question was raised. “That would be… Oh boy, Agnes! Someone call her…” “Hey! Grumpy pop! Lower Rank Knight Agnes reporting for duty! I finished all the tasks that I was given! Don’t be ashamed to reward me...” a familiar voice could be heard. “A reward? Very well, what do you say about having a go with Alabaster in the ring? He defeated every cadet sooo… you are next in line.” “Oh-mi-gosh! For realies!? Best! Reward! Ever!”

She chirped cheerfully, jumping in right away.

“Agnes! You crazy beast! You forgot your weapon!” someone noticed. “Ah! My bad! I got a tad too excited!” she answered putting her hand behind her head, much to the crowd’s amusement. “Seriously, one day you will forget your head, lass! It’s dangerous to go alone, take this!”

An older man threw a wooden training poll towards her, which she skillfully grabbed out of mid-air.

“Thanks Bob! That will do!... So… Ast… Alabaster! You brute! You defeated all these warriors and now want to do the same thing to me!? How could you! I am still a maiden! You ought to be careful with me!”

She said rapidly fluttering her eyebrows.

… and then she vanished from her spot appearing right beside me.

She began attacking me at an unimaginable speed. I did my best trying to block her blows, yet due to the difference in our agility, most of her blows managed to land directly.

Strike in the leg - where my thigh was supposed to be, which normally would make a victim kneel, a strike to the arm, which would normally disarm the opponent, and finally, a direct hit in the head, which would knock down most men.

I allowed myself to use that as an excuse, drop down on the ground and let Godric call it her win.

“OH MAI GOSH! I killed him!!!” I heard her lament, which somehow didn’t sound sad “... what to do? What to do! The last option for him is mouth-to-mou… Ouey!”

Capitan Godric hit her from behind at the top of her head.

“He is fine. And even if he was dying, it is better to simply meet the Mistwalker than to be kissed by you…”

Some of the crowd chuckled loudly.

“Godric! That was mean! I hate you! Don’t ever talk to me again!” “If only, if only. I think I need someone to help me carry this young man to the tent where he can rest…” “Lower Rank Knight Agnes reporting for duty!” this time she even saluted.

Next thing I knew I was being dragged toward somewhere.

Incredible. The difference between cadets and regular knights was truly astonishing. That raised a question - if I would successfully finish their training program, would I also be on a level similar to them? Could I be like Agnes, just without everything else?

I hoped so.

No, wait. Hope has nothing to do with it.

I WILL train and I WILL become stronger.

That’s my purpose.

That’s the new meaning to my existence…

… I had this and many more pompous thoughts in my mind while my ass was being dragged across the dirt through the entire camp.