Preparation

 Hugo was told to pack and be prepared to leave within the same day of the announcement.

Because he was explicitly told by Orin to not bring clothes, he didn’t have much to pack as he rarely bothered with personal items. In an hour’s time after his agreement, Hugo was standing at the edge of the village with a bag of coin on his belt and not much else.

“Hugo.” His father called out. With a grin he brought out a small object from within his pocket.

“A compass?” He questioned, Rucio nodded.

“Twas a most reliable companion in my days of adventure! I shall pray that it points this young squire to his goals as it once did for me.” Hugo was certain he had never seen it before, as an item with such ornate carvings would stand out in his mind.

“May the spirit of the frontier be with you, Hugo.” His father gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. Hugo didn’t understand what the words meant, though he returned the gesture nevertheless.

Soon enough Hugo and Orin were on the road once more, much like the dozens of trips that occurred over the last few months.

Just the tapping of hooves, and endless green hills.

“That’s a phrase I haven’t heard in a while.” The merchant mused to himself.

“You know of it sir Orin?” The man snorted.

“Of course! Everyone from the eastern frontier says it at least once in their lives. People need a mantra to prepare for the dangers of the unknown, what better way than to trust in the spirit of adventure?”

It was moments like this that he realised he knew very little about Orin and his merry band of men beyond the obvious. “Are you from the frontier? What’s it like there?” He asked.

Orin began to speak in a dramatic tone. “Endless swarms of giant ants devouring all in their path! Brave soldiers of the frontier wall battling tirelessly day and night in defense of humanity while daring pioneers explore the great forest and beyond!”

With each word he made dramatic motions in the air, at one point standing in his saddle as if to reach out to something far beyond the horizon. His speech came to an abrupt end as he sat back down with a chuckle.

“Is that what the stories here say?”

Hugo cracked a small smile, the idea of such a land was quite ridiculous when one put it like that.

“Sort of, yeah. The Knight of Speyer for one.”

Orin hummed. “A peasant boy who rose through the ranks to become a knight, and spent years hunting down a bandit lord across the entire frontier—eventually defeating the lord and his army by his lonesome at Speyer bridge. Quite the grand tale, a classic in the making in spite of it only being a few decades old.”

That was the gist of the story, though Hugo had heard many variations from his parents.

In one, the knight chases the bandits in search of glory.

In another, he pursues them to rescue an angel that had been whisked from heaven. Such was the fate of all popular tales with no clear origin, to be blown beyond proportion until nothing remained of the actual person from whom the story was originally spawned from.

“I know him, the knight of Speyer that is.” There was a moment of dead silence.

“...What?” Hugo’s tone made it clear he didn’t believe the merchant’s words for a single moment.

“Hey! Don’t give me that look. It’s true! I know the knight of Speyer! He’s an old coot that runs a small village near Alanfer in the frontier.”

“...Sure.” Was his deadpan reply.

Hugo was fairly certain Speyer bridge wasn’t even a place that actually existed, as a construct large enough for an entire army to fight upon would be well known even in the west.

“What’s with that tone?! Since when have I ever told a lie to anyone?” Hugo didn’t bother to respond, instead electing to stay silent with only the occasional ‘ahh’ and ‘is that so?’.

Orin was absolutely fuming, but Hugo found it amusing, so all is well in the world.

Unfortunately in a few hours, all wasn’t so well in the world. Or more specifically, in Thorn.

There was a mocking aura around Orin, the sheer smugness in his demeanor digging into Hugo’s very soul—almost lighting something akin to anger even if it was utterly outweighed by embarrassment.

The two were at one of their tailor shops, trying to find something for Hugo to wear to the academy. Orin’s integrity in the pursuit of their goal was highly questionable however, as Hugo was being forced to put on the fifth dress of the day.

The current dress was uncomfortable, it didn’t fit his large frame, and it was extremely frilly and just overall very impractical. The previous four weren’t much better.

He’d have refused to wear it had it just been Orin trying to get revenge on him for his earlier attitude, but…

“My! What smooth skin you have! And such sharp features as well. You must also try this one on! To see my ideal visions for these pieces so close to realization, oh what joy!” The woman was enthusiastic all right, and Hugo was unfortunately incapable of denying the orders of women with white hair due to a certain mother of his training him a little too well.

Thankfully, a flash of utter genius came to his mind. “I have an older sister.”

All of sudden, there was less than an inch between his and the tailor’s face.

“Where?”

“B-Belan.”

All of a sudden, there was one less tailor in the building. Hugo didn’t miss the sigh of disappointment from Orin, though he decided to stay silent in fear of further punishment.

The power dynamic had just been made very clear.

“Would you like me to bring out the ordered suit, Orin sir?” The shopkeeper finally spoke up, the same one whom Hugo rescued several times from rabid crowds. Hugo threw the man a gaze of utter betrayal for not speaking up sooner.

He never met Hugo in the eye.

The clothes which Orin had somehow already ordered with his exact size were thankfully much more reasonable than the frilly dresses.

Black pants and a white shirt underneath a fancy blue coat, a thin jabot running down his chest.

Hugo thought he still looked ridiculous, but at least it wasn’t a frilly dress.

“Looking handsome my boy! You won’t be so out of place among the little snots now. All that’s left is to get you signed up for classes and you’ll be a student by tomorrow morning.”

Hugo glanced at the man in surprise as they left the store. “Tomorrow?” He questioned.

“Yes, the academy came into session two weeks ago, you’ll have to play catch up for that, and for the three years of schooling that came beforehand.” The last part was whispered, almost inaudible, though Hugo heard it regardless.

He was suddenly a lot less sure about going.

Orin slapped him on the back with a laugh. “Don’t worry yourself too much over all that. You’re a smart kid, you’ll figure it out somehow.”

Hugo felt they were skipping a lot of steps, though he nodded regardless, even if it was with great reluctance.

“Wait, what am I going to be studying exactly?” Somehow, it was only then that such a question came to his mind.

He was feeling a lot less confident now. Anyone who’s come this far without asking that he doubted could be considered smart.

Thankfully, his answer would come soon enough.

The magistrate that handled registrations was located in Thorn, not the academy proper as matters of coin were supposedly considered ‘corruptive’ to the pursuit of knowledge.

Hugo personally thought it was utter hogwash with how high tuition was, but it was what it was.

“You will be taking classes in stewardship and trade.” Was the demand Orin made of him. It made sense, he was running a county wide textile business, and Hugo was his assistant.

The magistrate took the chance to speak up. “There are also a number of mandatory classes, all written here on this list.”

Hugo quickly glanced through it and…

Etiquette?

Calligraphy?

Ballroom dancing?!

There were plenty of things that made complete sense such as mathematics and literature, but they were utterly drowned under the sheer amount of aristocratic posh that filled the page.

“There is one more class we must pick. I’ll leave this choice up to you.” Orin said, cutting through the mountain of headaches. Hugo took a breath to calm himself, and…

He found no answer.

He had no plans for what he wished to do. After all, he was here for no good reason other than his mother’s words of encouragement.

Nevertheless, he wished to hide from how aimless he truly was, of the unknowable darkness that shrouded the path ahead.

Perhaps that is why he picked the first thing to catch his eye with no true reason as to why.

“Arcane architecture and engineering eh? Ambitious choice I'll admit.”

Were Hugo in a calm state of mind, perhaps he would've backed out of such a choice. After all, he had absolutely no knowledge of how magic worked.

But a certain something else had caught his eye, written at the very bottom of the page.

“Mister Orin?”

“Yes?”

“Does that say mandated martial training?”

The question was rhetorical of course. ‘Martial and battlefield prowess’ it said, supposedly required by the lowborn knight grant.

Which was supposedly the scholarship that had been granted to him.

Damn.