They arrived at a huge amphitheater where some students had already taken place, but there were so many seats that it didn’t really matter. Zac led them to the second half of the stands while explaining.

“The first rows are for First Yellow ranks and higher, but we can sit here.”

He picked a row where there were enough seats for the five of them and sat down. Zac and Allen continued their previous conversation while Mahon was lost in his own thoughts. As a former Last Red commander, he had high expectations for the strategy lessons. Although he expected to know quite a lot of what would be said, he had experienced practice in Nightmare but never theory.

There was no school for Nightmare warriors or officers. At first, there was no time since everybody had been dragged in. And then, with the appearance of the no-dream pill, the nobles had deserted the place. Who was left to build a Nightmare school then? The Council? They already had one war to handle and resources were sparse. Commoners? They died by the hundreds and they were too focused on the no-dream pills the nobles happily sold to them.

The only thing left to do was to experience, survive and adapt. As time passed, word of mouth gave the next generations of Nightmare soldiers the sparse knowledge of the firsts. With such a situation, only the basics were easily transmitted. For everything else, they had to improvise.

Mahon knew tons of things about Amentiae and strategies. But it was an instinctive knowledge. Sometimes, he had trouble explaining why one decision was the best to take, to him it just felt that way. Now that he had the opportunity to learn the theory behind his gut feelings, Mahon was looking forward to the lesson. And it was about time it started.

An energetic old man walked to the center of the piece and faced the students. One could see remains of an once impressive musculature, but the man was now much past his prime and it had started to melt away. His gray eyes, however, were full of vigor and intelligence as his gaze passed from student to student. Row by row, he scrutinized them as if he was able to gauge the potential of every one of them with just a look. A large white beard masked impressive scars that became visible only when he spoke.

“Hello everyone. I’m professor Yordar Dafiel, the person in charge of teaching you strategy. Strategy is quite a large topic, however, and you can expect to hear about numerous subfields in my lessons such as warrior physics, Amentiae, training theory, weapons, war, numbers, Colors and more.”

The man had a deep voice and talked slowly. He was pronouncing each word in a careful way that made his speech easy to understand.

“Usually, I prefer to talk about strategy first, but I know young people like you. You want to fight. You would rush heads down into it if you could. And the longer I don’t mention Amentiae, the more restless you get. That’s why we will instead talk about them.”

In the audience, some students were listening with rapt attention and next to Mahon, Allen clenched his fists in excitation.

“Oh, I can see you want Amentiae. Don’t worry, we will dissect them so much that you will beg me to switch to strategy…” The professor mumbled to himself and then continued louder. “So what are they? I have a clay figurine of an Amentiae here and I invite you to take one each.”

He gestured to the side of the room, where long shelves were crawling under the weight of hundreds of different items. He waited for them to find the Amentiae figurines in the messy clutter before pursuing.

“So, as you can see, Amentiae look like insects. They have six limbs that they usually split between four legs and two arms. Sometimes they use weapons, sometimes they don’t, so don’t be surprised. Notice how their upper limbs are dangerous looking. With enough force they can tear apart a man.”

The clay figurine in front of Mahon was a realistic representation of the Amentiae he knew from Nightmare. It was close to thirty centimeters high, but it was sufficiently detailed you could spot their weak joints and other small but important elements.

The professor had them turn and observe the Amentiae at every possible angle. Each time he pointed to the remarkable parts explaining which was soft and which was hard. After a long hour of manipulation, he put down the marionette.

“Don’t be satisfied by this quick overview. We will get back to it in further lessons and examine every single detail. We will stop only when you’re able to create your own clay figurine from memory.”

Yordar smiled at them. His smile grew even larger when he spotted the horrified face of the students at the idea of spending more time analyzing the figurine.

“But now let’s switch to Amentiae as an army. Alone, they react instinctively and can be easily dealt with. Even as a unit, they lack the discipline to protect each other or to move as a group. You could even say that they are stupid. And without an elite Amentiae, they are. But as soon as one is present, they somehow all become smarter.”

Mahon subconsciously acquiesced. He knew this too well as they had won the last battle of Nightmare taking advantage of it.

“It is why Amentiae heavily rely on hierarchical structure. With the equivalent of a few lieutenants and hundreds of sergeants, a single general is able to share a part of his intelligence with an army as numerous as a hundred thousand.”

“In this case, Amentiae become more aware of their strength and unity. Fortunately, they are still not very agile. It means they are good killing machines when you are in front of them, but they are slow to react as a unit. Facing an Amentiae regiment might be scary but if you instead attack them on the flank, they are ten times easier to kill.”

Again, Mahon slowly nodded as he had himself used this principle to his advantage countless times. As Yordar relentlessly pursued his presentation, Mahon found himself strangely captivated by the professor. The man had a way of exposing things simply, and he relied on his extensive experience to picture crucial points with real examples.

As the lesson pursued, Mahon saw in the professor a commander like he had rarely seen. The connection he felt to the man added to the talk and each new example provided was another situation he related to. The professor had said trivialities, but it somehow opened Mahon’s eyes. The speaker in front of him had decades of experiences and he had reflected decades on them after that.

To Mahon, it cast a fresh look at its own experience and it deepened his comprehension of what he went through. No one taught him what to do in Nightmare, but he had to do it anyway. And now there was someone putting words on what he had felt and done.

Intuitions he had followed were now explained with theory. Mistakes he had made were illustrated and clarified. Decisions he had taken were deconstructed and analyzed.

It was like you knew for years what was right but never knew why and suddenly someone came and explained it. It was not theory meeting practice. It was practice meeting theory.

And it felt really good.

When the lesson ended, Mahon was grateful. The old professor had shown the way without ever enforcing it. He had never once talked about what one was supposed to do or about rules to follow. He just gave information and pointed to clues where you should watch for one. He had not built the road you had to walk, he just drew the map you had to use. And the difference was like Ratho and Nightmare.

To Mahon, who had navigated the area for years without a guide, a map was the most precious gift he could hope for. He silently thanked the professor and left the class alongside Zac and his other roommates. They each had made different choices for their next courses and, after exchanging some words, they agreed to meet back at their house and went their own way.

Mahon felt ready for more training as he headed alone to his first specialized lesson, muscular strengthening by gainage. He had eaten and his muscles had been at rest during the whole strategy lesson, so he was in a much better shape than at the end of the grueling morning training.

He actually had a good recovery rate since he had trained all day long for two full months. His exercises at the time were less intense than the ones he did at school, but he was also used to longer sessions.

Mahon walked to the training field where he was supposed to go and realized it was the same one he had used in the morning. A bad feeling crept up inside him.

When he arrived at the meeting point, he realized what he had feared was indeed happening.

“What you doing here, lesser man? Came back to apologize about your poor performance? Eh… Thinking about it, can we legitimately call it a performance? Eh, I’m sure you won’t mind if we call it an abomination.”

Mahon almost took a step back at the flood, but he restrained himself. The bald instructor was looking at him with interest.

“So what? You’re gonna stay here without saying anything? If you ask, I can talk to professor Rym and make you skip the morning session. No point in training someon… something like you. Just say it, boy, and you’re free. Nothing will make me more happy that not seeing you again.”

This time Mahon did not let the trash talk surprise him and he looked right in the eyes of the instructor as he spoke.

“I’m here for the gainage lesson.”

The instructor looked back at him with big, round eyes. Then he roared with laughter but quickly calmed himself when he saw that Mahon was serious.

“Eh? You want another of my training? You’re just here to make a fool of yourself or what? You’re so weak you can’t even run properly and you want to train more? You’re kidding me, right?”

His gaze scrutinized Mahon from top to bottom and then to top again.

“Ok, don’t say I didn’t warn you! Go wait with the others, the lesson is starting soon.”

With a quick look, Mahon realized that the wait the instructor had mentioned meant in fact running in the same circle they had in the morning. Mahon sighed deeply and joined a small group of students that looked as enthusiastic as he was to work out with the same instructor again.

What followed was a painful hour of holding tense postures for way too long while ignoring the relentless flood of the coach.

When the lesson was finally over, Mahon was lying on the ground, motionless. He shook his legs so that his blood could oxygen his muscles and after several minutes, he managed to sit down. All the other students had already left the training grounds, and new ones were arriving for the next session. The instructor came to him.

“Eh, I know it’s hard for a lesser man, but get out of my sight now. I’m sick of your weak body. I’m losing muscles just by looking at you. Get it? So go to whatever other lesson you choose, but don’t stay here. We are going to move to serious business. Running lessons are the essence of a warrior’s training. Not talking about you, of course, you can jus…”

The instructor stopped when he saw Mahon’s face. He instantly realized what that look meant.

“By the Fada, you must be kidding, right? No way you choose running. No way, no way, no way. A healthy mind wouldn't even think of…” He stopped again. “You just like to suffer or what? Why would you choose running?! Can’t you think? Don’t you have a brain? Stop! Don’t answer. I already know.”

Mahon was himself wondering if he liked to suffer. Probably not, but as he stood up and began running for the third time of the day, he started doubting his own judgment.

Fortunately, once it was time for his yoga lesson, he left the area and had another professor. The lesson was taught by a kind woman with a voice so soft that you could only hear her if the area was absolutely quiet.

This last session soothed his tired legs and brought peace to his inner thoughts. He left the class feeling refreshed and invigorated. He still had trouble walking the long way to his new home, but he made it, little step by little step. All in all, he had an exhausting day, but he felt happy with himself.

The three training sessions had been hard, but he didn’t know anything better to gain muscles. The strategy lecture had unlocked many new thoughts and he would have to reflect on it longer in Nightmare. The final yoga class had comforted his painful body and put a smile on his lips.

He was ready to do it again tomorrow.