“The Battle of Close Hills was a pivotal event on the First War for The Tongue. Outnumbered three-to-one, Alistair Olsandre managed to hold out against the Olsens’ onslaught through superior tactics and clever use of the terrain,” the history professor explained to the class. “It also marked the first time that Heidi of Southorpe took part in a real-world pitched battle.”

Jon sat in a corner at the back of the classroom. Quill in hand, he wrote down only the most important terms for future reference. Battle of Close Hills, First War for The Tongue, and Heidi of Southorpe, for instance. The professor had already mentioned some of them in previous classes, while others were completely new to Jon.

“The onslaught lasted from morning until a couple of hours before sunset when reinforcements arrived in the form of lady Bertrade Coslett and lord Hectar Westbrook. Together, they pushed back the enemy and won the day. This victory would serve as a turning point for the war, with the Olsandre eventually expelling the Olsens from the region of The Tongue and gaining control over it for the next century.”

Most of the other students paid little attention to the lecture, either because they were familiar with the subject or because they gave it little mind. Jon was a mix of the two, but he still forced himself to listen.

Maybe other academy’s students were of a similar mind, or maybe it was exclusive to the Phoenix, but there was an obvious preference for combat-related subjects. Few dared to slack off during Practical Combat, for example. Same for the elemental spell classes. Warfare Basics was more of a mixed bag, with nobles very excited to learn how to command troops. The rest of the students, peasants who would likely never be in such a position, not so much. Understandings on Cultivation had a disinterested class, but Jon wagered it had more to do with the dull professor rather than the subject itself.

And then there was Somerford’s History, where an old woman droned on and on about centuries-old facts.

In the first row, a noble student kept looking down to check her nails. Further back, two peasant students talked in low whispers. On the other side of the classroom, a nobleman blatantly slept through the lecture, his head against the glass windows.

It didn’t escape Jon that the worst offenders tended to be the nobles themselves. They all operated under a different set of rules, as demonstrated by Deon some nights before.

Professor Lynne concluded her lecture on the Battle of Close Hills, doing little to hide her displeasure at the class’ behavior. “Does anyone has a question?” When no one moved, she continued, “Well, it seems everyone is already quite familiar with the subject. Which is perfect, because today we shall begin handing out academy points.”

Ears perked up. The academy had a system of points for its grading, with seventy being the minimum required to pass a subject. They were rewarded based on each student’s performance, though the exact method of assessment fell under each Professor’s discretion.

If passing a subject was the only use for the points, then only the commonfolk would care about it. Nobles had a much lower bar to clear, after all, just one of the many benefits of belonging to the ruling class. But there was another importance for these points that was directly connected to what almost every student dreamed about. A chance to make a name for oneself, to win glory, and become someone much greater. A chance to win the King’s Tourney.

Held during the second week of summer, just a couple of months from now, it would gather the elite from all the twelve war academies in the realm to decide who was the best amongst them all. And to decide who would have the honor of representing each academy, to sift the wheat from the chaff, there was the Winter’s tourney at the end of the year, fought between the top-graded students.

“I’ll ask each of you a question related to what I’ve taught here up until now. Get it right and be awarded a point. And I’ll be starting with...” The professor’s gaze traveled through the students, searching left and right for the first one. They settled on a plump man in front of Jon that had been taking advantage of the pitched floor to read a book. “Josian. When did the Olsandres assume control over Somerford?”

The man flinched in his seat. He tried to come up with an answer, taking too long for the professor. “Wrong,” she said, immediately jumping to the next student, a noblewoman at the front of the class. “Lady Brandis, same question.”

“At the end of the Three Queen’s War.”

Professor Lynne wasn’t satisfied. “I want the exact year.” When the noblewoman took too long to answer, the professor said, “Wrong,” and jumped to the next student who gave a wrong number, same for the one after that. Only the fifth one managed to give the correct answer, 7120 AU.

The professor continued asking her questions until she eventually called for the nobleman who had been sleeping against the windows. “Lord Garrel. Could you please enlighten us as to which historical figure had their first taste of real combat during the Battle of Close Hills?”

As expected given how little attention he had been paying, the nobleman drew a blank.

“Let’s try someone else then.” Rather than searching among the remaining students, her eyes went directly to Jon. “You there, the halfbreed. What is the question?”

The halfbreed has a name, Jon wanted to say, though he knew it would make no difference. Professor Lynne had everyone else’s names memorized, so there was no way she didn’t know his. She just wanted to call him a halfbreed. Better for Jon to focus on getting that academy point, though, so he answered, “Heidi of Southorpe, also known as Heidi The Conqueror.” It was far from being a hard question. The professor had been talking about it just a few minutes before, so he didn’t even need to think about it.

“Very good,” she said with a smile. She then turned back to the nobleman, a condescending look on her face. “I must say that I’m disappointed, lord Garrel. It was such an easy question that even the halfbreed managed to get it right, so I expected more than you. Maybe you would learn something if you refrained from sleeping for more than a minute. Moving on, Lawren...”

Garrel scoffed at her. He then turned to the side, sending a sharp glare at Jon from across the room.

God damn this hag. That’s why such an easy question. She just wanted to use Jon to embarrass the nobleman in front of everybody. I fucking hate this class.