Waking before dawn, I didn’t sleep well. After the first few “Flower Boy” comments, I just rolled out the bedroll where it lay and tried to get some sleep under the stars. They didn’t throw too many flowers at me.

My eyes open to someone loudly whistling through their teeth and boots running past my head.

There must be a hundred cadets lined up in a grid pattern. I just fall in line into an empty spot. He’s already talking and No, I don’t remember my group or their faces.

“TEAM LEADERS. MAKE A LINE.” An older weathered-looking man facing us calls out and points an imaginary line in front of us as a dozen pairs of boots scramble to line up next to each other.

Rearranging and spacing them out about 10 feet apart from each other to his liking, “TEAMS, FALL IN BEHIND YOUR LEADERS.” It looked like about a third of us didn’t know where to go, but most of them were smart enough to just get in line somewhere. That left the last few of us being glared at by this man as we figured it out.

I recognize the man coming towards us with his four lackeys in lockstep behind him. The four lackeys split off to the side as a man in charge presents himself before us.

“Welcome. Thank you for choosing us to assist your in your needs.” He starts a slow walk in front of us. “This is a practical course and we will be giving you a bit of exposure into different professions and what it may be like to fulfill those roles.”

Turning back, pointing, two of the lackeys raise their hand. “There are healers onsite. You will present yourself to them at the end of each session. I will not be responsible to you or your families for any scarring due to your negligence.”

Still pointing, a different hand goes up. “Some events that will occur here can be traumatizing, especially if you are the cause. You will speak to the…, a Counselor at the end of this course and whenever requested to do so.”

Walking between the lines of cadets. “We are currently on the Dark side for a reason. We will be culling and controlling some of the local animal population along with some of the other directives that we have been given.”

Slowing a step as he passes me. “The use of personal equipment will be restricted as equipment will be provided so that we may better evaluate your abilities. Gather up your things, we leave in 30 minutes.”

Gathering up my things, I follow the crowd to where we’re issued some basic clothing. There’s a place to change and we’re each given a trunk (chest?) big enough to stow our weapons and armor. We trek to a field a short distance away for some cardio where some are already stopping part way for a breather.

The day was informative for me as we discussed and then demonstrated to us three and four-man team formations. We broke for lunch and ended the day with a meal. Both were provided. It was a good day and I’m glad Jack brought me here.

The next day we were all given a medium size shield and a short club that looked more like a short baseball bat. There were more instructors and it was a lot of one-on-one instruction. After lunch, we traded in the shield and club for a rod (used as a short sword) and worked through the role of a short-range damage dealer.

On the third day, we were exposed to short-range tactics. Slings, short bows, throwing knives, and axes. No one was allowed to throw or fire anything, for safety reasons. The last couple of hours of the day we did throw and shoot at some targets. It felt more like carnival games with no prizes.

Day four, long-range tactics and support. Much the same as the day before except for one notable exception. We were given wands to simulate having ranged magic. There was only one target for all of us and the wand shot a little ball of colored light that was harmless and never missed the target. I have to admit that I had more than a little fun playing the flamboyant wizard which drew a few flowers landing at my feet.

Day five and about a third of the class is packing up to leave. You could see after the first or second day, as their attitudes and entitlement mindset started coming through that most of these people are from money. Even now, congratulating and complementing each other for a job well done.

Given the option, I’m enjoying myself and learning a lot. I help break camp and stay with the group. Most of the day is spent moving to the next location where we set up and break for the night.

The next day we’re each given a gambeson, shield, a club, and arranged in three-man teams. Two of us are to function as tanks, the third as a short-range damage dealer. Every time we hear the horn, we are to change position and role.

We head out in a line as we break over a small hill. I hear people sighing and “Rats!” from those that are closer to the nests. Not five minutes in and some are breaking formation and running back. There are hundreds and hundreds of them. Most of the rats don’t look concerned, but enough are either mad or hungry that we just needed to show ourselves and they attacked.

A few rats come my way and as my current role is a tank, I just bat them off with my shield. They are about the size of a cat and not much of a threat.

Looking across the field, about half of the cadets are engaged and actively pursuing the rats. Most of the rest look lost or more like spectators. The two in my group broke formation and just ran at the rats. I hold back and don’t engage. Clubbing rats isn’t sitting well with me. No one was hurt, but the counselors were busy, and more cadets were gone by morning. I never did hear the horn.

I watched that night as goblins gathered up the rats. One of the men let us know that this was one of their hunting grounds and this is the way that they hunt the rats. There had been a payment made to the tribe to not hunt these grounds, letting the rat population explode. We would then be allowed to cull the population, leaving the meat and pelts for them.

We broke camp in the morning, heading higher into the hills. Another nest of rats, but larger like dogs. I could hear the excitement as some of the cadets were breaking into Tin rank and gaining the option for classes. Once that started happening we didn’t lose another cadet.

Wolves were next and with that came basic equipment, depending on the class chosen. I kept the shield and traded in my club for a dagger and long sword. I defaulted in with the other tanks. I didn’t feel the need to share my dual class, King and Priest, or what I could do. I’m going to learn what I can and appreciate what Jack did for me here.

As the days progressed, it was just more of the same. I didn’t feel myself getting any stronger, but my basic skills and understanding were certainly improving. Most everyone now was Iron level with a few hitting Bronze.

Cadets hitting Bronze level left me no doubt that these people had money. Gifts of Inlaid swords and armor, magnificent-looking robes, staves, and rods with crystals or ornaments at the tips. More of them admiring and congratulating each other for a job well done. A few seem to have, or at least received, “Personalized Status Displays” as groups of them were staring into space swatting at the air in front of them. Discussing numbers, percentages, and whatnot.

As cadets hit Bronze level and their accomplishments were celebrated, they would gather their belongings and head out either that evening or the following morning. That just left more private instruction and specialized focus for the rest of us. With less than a dozen of us left, we broke camp.

“What’s your story?” I’m asked as we are heading to the next campsite.

“Was there something specific you wanted to know?” There is at least a 3:1 instructor to cadet ratio now with so few of us left. The instructors are much more relaxed around the few of us that are left.

“You’re not ranked, yet you continue to hold your own?” Seems like it's been a topic of discussion as more of the instructors are listening in.

“I thought you were going to ask about the “Flower Boy” comments. It seems that my mana channels are messed up somehow. Even the Identifying Stones are blank.” At which time someone digs one out to prove me wrong, but I’m not and it’s blank.

Another encounter, a few more Bronze, seven of us are left. Mages are gone. Healers are gone, and Damage dealers are gone. Seven tanks left. You would think that we would get equal experience.

Of all things, a Dire Moose decides that we are not welcome, leaving three not yet Bronze. The one cadet is teeth clenching mad as he walks into the herd to stand his ground, the other follows. We watch until I’m the only one left not Bronze.

Maybe twenty-five Instructors and support personnel have remained to make sure we remained safe. I see them packing up and know that it’s time we head home. As they are packing up, I change back into my equipment and give back what I was loaned.

It takes a few days to get back to where we started, near the tear. There are a few random encounters that we are not really able to avoid. They graciously funnel everything my way, letting me get what experience I can. After all the one-on-one

training and having to use the basic equipment, my black and thin blade are quick and efficient. I used to just run and hack at things, relying on my strength and speed. Now there is a finesse and understanding of blade work that the strength and speed just magnify as I dance in and out of combat, practicing what I’ve learned. This world is just a big cheat. There’s no way I could have achieved in my world what I’m doing now. It’s like you’re just given knowledge, understanding, and insight at an exponential rate of return.

I look up to a slow clap, first one instructor, then the others. A few nods of approval as they turn away back to their work.

I notice that Jack is here and talking with the guy who gave the welcoming speech. It seems like Jack being Jack and is bargaining for something. Walking towards them, it sounds like Jack is asking for his opinion about me. I think he waits for me to get close enough, to make sure I hear him tell Jack. “Then take him on a run. See what he can do.”