“Finnegan, have you just arrived?” Grey asked in a yawn, his head was plastered on his desk as he looked at Finnegan walk into the classroom wearing his sport uniform. “How was training?”

“I can’t feel my body,” he replied, drenched in sweat as his fellow red tunic students stumbled into the classroom.

“You really reek of hard work,” said Grey, turning his head away from the stench Finnegan carried.

“It’s the sweat of youth. This is what Drill Sergeant Conner said,” said Finnegan, slumping in his seat, out of breath. “He refused any of us to shower. He wanted us to experience youth and victory.”

“Least you aren’t wearing your cotton woolly robe,” remarked Grey, closing his eyes.

“I think I made a mistake, Grey,” Finnegan finally said. “I couldn’t sleep last night after we had that discussion yesterday. Then, this morning I realised how true your words were. I didn’t know I would be spending my entire youth training and studying at school.” He walked over to Grey’s sleeping head in a panic.

“You need to help me get out of this!” begged Finnegan, he bent down and gripped Grey’s arm in desperation. “I can’t bear to see Drill Sergeant Conner anymore. He always picks me out from the crowd, saying stuff like ‘I see you are a strong King like your father’.”

Grey murmured something inaudible as Finnegan squeezed his arm tighter. “He tells me that I am a born leader and I need to train harder than the rest! It’s just the second day, Grey, I think I might just die. I need your help.”

Grey opened his eyes, feeling the pressure of his best friends’ fingertips imprinting within his skin. “Finnegan, forget about showering in youthful sweat,” said Grey.

Finnegan’s eyes glazed up in hope, he nodded in agreement with his best friend’s words, he was certain Grey would help him avoid Drill Sergeant Conner. This is what best friends did for each other. The universal rule of friendship. Finnegan almost teared up at the support of his best friend.

“You need to shower immediately. The only way to evade someone is to oppose them,” advised Grey, shoving Finnegan’s hand off of his arm. “Act like you aren’t a noble prince, that you dislike battles and have no interest in being the next King of Rhys.”

Finnegan thought for a second. “But I do have an interest in battles and want to be the noble King that people will acknowledge and respect,” said Finnegan, confused.

“That makes one of us,” Grey murmured, knowing full well of Finnegan’s intentions. Ever since they were young, he had sprouted his dream of adventure and becoming a righteous king that people would respect. “Since you want to achieve a difficult dream, you have to endure with all the hard work that comes along with it.”

“But there must be another way Grey?” pleaded Finnegan, in deep thought about his noble ambition.

“Well,” Grey paused, thinking of lazy idea that could aid Finnegan but before he could speak out the thought, Drill Sergeant Conner marched into the classroom. He was a bulky and muscular man, his entire head was bald yet he had a long hairy red beard, he wore a red tunic armoured with a gold chest plate, his muscles shaped the fabric as he walked and above the plate a star shaped badge was attached.

“Future troopers!” he announced to the classroom, his voice was gruff. “I am here to inform you that normal morning classes have been cancelled for today.”

“What does that mean?” Finnegan immediately asked, in despair.

Drill Sergeant Conner grinned, his yellow teeth sparked with excitement. “It means young trooper, that we will proceed to specific afternoon lessons for the whole day today,” he said.

“What?” gulped Finnegan.

“Don’t worry Finnegan,” reassured Drill Sergeant Conner with a smile, he took out a knife from his armoured breast plate and slammed it into the nearby table where he stood. Everyone in the classroom blinked twice, disturbed and frightened by the action, even Grey lifted his head from his table at the sound.

“We will train until the scent of our sweat becomes the air itself,” said Drill Sergeant Conner, thrillingly, he had a glint in his eye.

Finnegan turned his scared gaze at Grey but Grey was focused on the knife that was erected into the table. “Knives are rather dangerous,” he whispered, swallowing nervously. “It’s best not to engage with people with sharp objects.”

Drill Sergeant Conner withdrew his knife from the table and placed it back within his armoured chest plate, he walked towards Finnegan and gripped his arm. “Red robes, follow me out!” he instructed, dragging Finnegan on the floor. Finnegan shook his head vigorously from side to side, his eyes pleaded with Grey to save him as his body reached the exit of the classroom but Grey could only stare sympathetically as his friend was being dragged to the training of youthful sweat.

Drill Sergeant Conner was not a person who would take no for an answer, thought Grey, he was lucky his teacher, Mage Arctus was more easy-going. He stood up and followed his fellow Mage students to the dome for Mage Arctus class.