Ranvir was awoken by the sudden entry of the sun into their room.

“Good morning students! You have fifteen minutes to get ready, and meet me in front of the dorm.”

Ranvir blinked watery eyes as the light vanished, leaving only the empty door frame. Shortly there after, he heard the words repeated in the room next to theirs.

Sitting up on his cot, Ranvir rubbed at his eyes.

Someone was moving around him, but he couldn’t tell why. It was far too early to begin investigating.

“Five more minutes.” He recognized Esmund's voice, and whole-heartedly agreed. Grabbing his blanket, he tossed it over his shoulders, staring down at his bare feet.

“Guys!” Ranvir winced at the loud voice. He turned to give Grev a baleful glare. “Don’t look at me like that. We only have ten minutes to get down there. Trust me, you do not want to be here when times up.”

Ranvir stared at him suspiciously.

“Seriously,” Sansir chimed in from the opposite side of Esmund, whom he was hauling to his feet amongst great profanity. “I heard that they’ll tie you to a rimeoak for up to three hours.”

Ranvir blinked, but got to his feet, swaying slightly. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it.”

Stumbling over to his chest, he pulled out an unused uniform, one he hadn’t yet resized. Grabbing the next uniform, the one he’d worn yesterday.

“No, put that down. Clean uniform for first day.” Grev said, pulling it out of Ranvir’s hands. “Now wake up.” Ranvir felt his callous hand land on his shoulder, before pain suddenly spiked.

He bowed his knees drawing away from Grev, finally wide awake. “Don’t do that.”

“Five minutes, get dressed. We have to go.” Grev put action to words and pulled out Ranvir’s boots, he quickly began unlacing them. “Now!”

Ranvir forced himself into his uniform finally, noticing that Grev was already in his. Boots laced and all.

In a rush, Ranvir and Esmund were pushed out in front of the dorm. Groups of student had been gathered in front of different men. All wearing elegant but simple black-and-white uniform.

“That one.” Sansir said, pointing to one group.

The teacher in front of this one had wings of white in his hair and a tightly trimmed mustache that had gone completely gray. Behind him and to his right, was a man a few years older than the first years. He had a slightly more elaborate uniform than theirs, but otherwise looked like any twenty-year-old.

Ranvir pressed a hand against his chest, sensing for that gap in his chest, as he fell in next to Esmund, with Grev on his other side. By the time he saw Esmund relax, his uniform visibly changing around him, Ranvir just barely caught the gap and entered the space himself.

With a breath of relief, the band over his chest and shoulders loosened, relaxing over his neck and giving him enough space to breathe around his collar. He did a quick experimental squat, before falling back in with his friends.

The teacher nodded at the student behind him, before commanding. “Keep up.” He turned and started walking down the road at a brisk pace. Slowly, he increased the speed, as they got out onto the main road of the complex.

“I am Teacher Vigo.” He yelled. “You will follow each of my orders promptly and without hesitation.”

There was a silent bead, before a few students crowed up. “Yes, sir.” The other students joined sporadically.

“Horrible. Your job for today is to keep up. This isn’t sprinting, it’s enduring.”

“Yes, sir.” This time, it was slightly better timed, though Ranvir noticed Sansir was perfectly on time, just like Grev.

Teacher Vigo picked up the pace slightly. At first Ranvir kept up fine, but he’d never practiced his stamina deliberately. After ten minutes, his throat and nose burned as he heaved for air, his lungs similarly overworked. His right calf had become a solid lump of knotted muscle, and he was sweating heavily.

Sansir and Grev had kept the pace Teacher Vigo had set, pretty easily if Ranvir was any judge, but most of the other students in their group couldn’t boast the same prowess. Instead, they were lingering around Ranvir and Esmund. A few were dropping off, falling into a walk, or stopping entirely.

Ranvir blinked, keeping his focus on the ground in front of him. They were running along the inside of the complex wall. He blinked as a few students overtook him on the left. He hadn’t heard their footsteps at all.

They, too, looked to be first years, though he didn’t recognize them. Hopefully, they were from a different group.

Shooting a glance over at Esmund, he was a little relieved to see his friend struggling just as hard as himself. Esmund’s hair was already soaked with sweat, droplets falling from his nose. His breathing was more even, but he was visibly limping on one leg.

Concerned, Ranvir asked him what was wrong. Or rather he tried, but only gasped out a few word-like sounds before giving up. It didn’t even seem like his friend noticed.

The minutes wore on as Ranvir and the surrounding fellows gradually slowed down. By the time he was down to a walk, his calf had completely locked up, and he could barely move his foot. He was swaying along the road, a little behind Esmund, who was swaying in equal and opposite direction.

He blinked, hoping the earth was actually moving underneath him, and the nausea was from that, rather than the exercise.

In the end, it didn’t matter. He lasted another five minutes before—leaning against the wall—he emptied his stomach on the ground. Either the sound or the smell sent Esmund to his own spot against the wall.

He didn’t need to do this. He could quit. Go into the cafeteria, get some water, maybe some food if his stomach would take it. Read his books. Access his tether. He could do anything.

He thought back to Pashar’s words when she’d shown him their books on space manipulation. ‘You’re a once in a lifetime tethered. Nobles would pay outrageous sums.’ He rubbed the sweat out of his eyes, as he started limping down the path again. There was a solid chance that he could go off, be happy and rich enough for a lifetime, perhaps his kid’s lifetime. And the price would be nearly nothing. Insignificant.

He looked over the wall, towards the city obscured by trees.

Insignificant.

Turning his head, he had to steady himself against the wall, as a bout of dizziness hit him, but he looked at the tower. The Masters’ Tower. He thought of the beam of light. Brilliance bright enough to break the day. Light then shattered even his expectations of possibilities.

Master Ayvir. A man who could outshine the sun.

Next to him, Ranvir was insignificant. He knew it, even though he didn’t know him.

Insignificant.

His calf screamed in protest before he realized he’d started jogging again.

Ranvir fell to the ground next to Sansir and Grev, Esmund right behind him. In the end his attempt at running barely lasted a couple seconds, but he’d kept walking and stumbling along.

He didn’t know for how long he’d been moving, when Teacher Vigo had appeared at his side, gesturing for him to join the other students exhausted on the field.

“You did good.” Grev sounded exhausted, though he wasn’t hauling for air. He reached over, slapping Esmund on the shoulder, before repeating with Ranvir.

Ranvir was more curious as to why Sansir seemed to be in similar shape to Grev, but couldn’t find the necessary air to ask the question. Instead, he nodded in acknowledgment at Grev before closing his eyes.

The sun hadn’t yet heated fully, so there was still a cool wind breezing over them.

At some point, he heard Sansir and Grev get up, but couldn’t be bothered to check why. Though he was happily surprised when they each showed up with a cup of water for him and Esmund.

Groaning with relief, as he realized just how dry his mouth had been. “Thanks.”

“Could you get some more?” Esmund asked, completely forgoing gratitude in favor of more deliciously cool water.

“Don’t.” Sansir said. “Once we’re done, you can drink all the water you want, until then I recommend you keep it to a minimum.”

“Why?” Ranvir asked, wiping at his forehead, though his sweat had mostly dried at this point.

“To avoid puking.” Grev replied. Taking the cups from Esmund and Ranvir, he walked over to where Teacher Vigo stood next to a barrel and a tall stack of clay cups.

“How are you so good at this?” Esmund asked, using a hand to keep the shadow out of his eyes as he leaned back.

“I was always going to join the military, made sense to be prepared.” Sansir shrugged.

“Five minutes!” the teacher yelled.

Ranvir felt his mouth go slack. We aren’t done?

Sansir let out a low chuckle at Ranvir’s expression.

“You do remember the schedule, right?”

“I just figure- I guess… I was hoping to be done.”

“We’re not even an hour in. Out of three.” Sansir replied. “Plus, it looks like we skipped breakfast today.”

Ranvir raised his knees, resting his forearms across them and settling his head. Insignificant. In effort? Or In personality? He took in a deep breath. When Teacher Vigo called for everyone to get up, he was just as fast as Grev and Sansir, which prompted Esmund to jump to his feet.

In the grass of their field, marked by colored stones, Ranvir saw that Teacher Vigo, or his assistant, had stuck sticks into the ground. They were placed in two rows, opposite each other with about thirty feet distance between.

“All of you will gather into pairs and come up to me.” Vigo said. Ranvir first looked at Sansir and Grev, but they seemed to have already paired up, so he looked to Esmund, who just winked and gave a thumbs up.

Vigo handed them each three sticks and gave them instructions. “Each column is a pair of king sticks. You’ll set up behind opposing sticks. Plants these in the grass behind your king stick.

“The game involves running over to your opponent’s side and grabbing his sticks. You win by taking his king stick. You can only take a single stick at a time, and you must plant it behind your own king stick. You can only take a king stick, once the opponent has lost all his sticks.”

Ranvir swallowed at those instructions. The game was pretty simple, but it would be grueling.

Staring down Esmund standing opposite him, thirty feet of distance between them, Ranvir knew this would be a struggle even worse than the running had been. Esmund wasn’t much for exercising, but he was absolutely the most competitive person Ranvir had ever met. And it wasn’t close.

“When you’ve gathered all the sticks and taken your opponent’s king stick, you’ve won.” Teacher Vigo reiterated, he held a wooden coin with a starburst on it. “You win one of these. They usually go for around two silver witnesses.” There was some quiet murmuring.

Two witnesses was a lot of money, but they already got paid more than that each month.

“Or you can trade it to me, during class, for a ten-minute break.” The entire class went silent. Ranvir wanted that coin. He needed it. He turned to gaze on Esmund, whose face had gone worryingly neutral.

Ranvir tried. He fought for the victory, struggled and sprinted. Ran and fell. Walked and limped. But Esmund hadn’t been stuck in a workshop for the last four years, working most of his days. He’d spend most of his time playing and running. While not directly exercise, it was more than Ranvir had.

And Ranvir didn’t have a competitive streak. He didn’t care about losing, if he knew someone wanted to win. He’d once seen Esmund dust a five-year-old in a footrace so hard the kid started crying.

He was blinking dizzily at the sky, when Sansir sat down next to him with a heavy thud. “I got beat too.” He said simply. Ranvir just nodded, still staring at the sky, not sure he could get up without falling.

“Class!” Ranvir closed his eyes when he heard Vigo’s voice. “Next exercise is…”