The medical wing was attached to the barracks and served several functions. In addition to checking the health of military personnel, it acted as the schools’ clinic and research center of medicine for students entering that field. Often referred to as the “Cloudushen Academe of Medicine”, it didn’t officially carry that name. In fact, the building had no signage whatsoever. It was the city of Ushunfield’s second-largest general hospital. The building took up a large footprint on the compass, almost as large as the student housing complexes.

Temora entered through the student side of the building so that she wouldn’t be confused for a patient. The secretary nurse at the desk requested her name and asked her to take a seat. It didn’t take more than ten beads to get someone out to the lobby to call her in for the physical. There she stripped, was checked for general and reproductive health, and then again affixed the elements of her complex uniform. After which were a few physical limit tests.

With a clean bill of health, and more importantly, permission to march, she was almost skipping out toward the field where she was supposed to be meeting the professor. In the field just outside of the regimental headquarters building were a few platoons of soldiers, each headed by an instructor of some kind. She was looking for a man in a dark grey professor’s uniform. There were a couple, and she went up to one who was not Holiday. He pointed to where she needed to be rather aggressively. “Outfield, Novice.” projecting as he brushed her aside.

The man she was to meet was in a distant part of the field, much further out than any of the other platoons. They looked like they had that area of the field to themselves. She did not know why, and that was another of many small mistakes she would be making today. She briskly jaunted that distance, maybe a quarter redknot. Half of the men in the platoon were watching her when they should have been paying attention to the professor. That was not their first mistake today either.

The professor motioned with his arm in a beckoning flail toward his side of the line-up formation. She was about a ship’s length away when he yelled “Are you Temora?”.

“I am.”, she matched in a similar volume.

“I am Rosin Holiday. Professor 4th.” he continued to exclaim. “Can you climb a rope?”

“Yes.” she responded, a little confused in how that question was relevant. The distance closed between them quickly as this awkward conversation brought her from jogging to sprinting to elevate the collective discomfort.

“Every day, we wake up at brightset. This is day two of training for these men here. You’ll be here for two full grads; six weeks.” Professor Holiday was still speaking very loudly, probably used to doing so as part of his duties. “This morning we climbed a rope in the gym. A little morning tradition we have. You’ll be climbing a lot of ropes.”

Now, Temora understood completely, everyone else here did as well. The school had them climb ropes rather frequently. For children it was a common physical activity, racing around ropes to move rings from the top and back down. Sometimes they would have you transfer between them, or across a cargo net. In the air, catching or hanging on ropes was often your only means of survival if you fell. If you were too far and had good reaction time you could throw a skyhook, but that too had a rope attached.

“Get in line Fayn.” Professor Holiday was not going to stop the drills to converse with a new arrival. She was just another body going into the grinder after all. In many ways, she preferred this to standing out in class. Finally, she was normal... at least that was her current thought.

“Yes, sir.” She stamped toward the end of the line and faced Rosin. He was fully poised. One arm behind his back, and one hand on a cane that he did not need for walking. He prepared to position his units optimally, like the maestro of an orchestra, or a grandmaster of the belitboard.

“The young men and women around you are part of an elite class. Among you are those who twinkle the brightest here at Cloudushen. Because of this, those in power have great expectations of you all, and of me.” Maybe she wasn’t as normal as she had hoped. The professor waved his cane in sweeping arcs toward the group at full attention. In his capable hands, this cane was a weapon. It was critical that nobody reacted, as they might find themselves taking the first shot from him.

“I can’t allow any person here to fall flat or underperform. The truth is, that some of you are in front of me now because of your family’s wealth. Others had to work for their position here. Both you and I will find out today if your parents contributed financially to your glowing reviews.” He had the voice of a man who delivered speeches like this hundreds of times. Rosin raised the cane upward toward the sky, above the heads of the students. Nobody in line dared to move their gaze from his eyes. They needed to read his intentions and not the veiled threats within his actions.

The young man on Temora’s left gave a short glace over to her, that she spotted in her peripheral. This for only a blink broke her gaze from the professor where she saw a droplet of sweat forming around his hairline. Temora’s focus returned to Rosin in an instant, aware of the imminent threat.

“On this cane is set a red gemin of high grade. Powerful enough to sweep a wave of cleansing fire across a schooner, lengthwise. I hope that for the sake of us all that this gemin cooperates.” Latent, once dormant, energy started its release as the gemstone inside the head of the cane began to glow.

Rosin’s cane was truly an object of master craft. While it was unlikely that her mother’s woodworking shop made this particular item, someone with equal or greater skill did. Temora had only seen gemin-embedded objects like these used by law enforcement and at stage shows. She’d seen them light up the night in celebration only a few times, and once pondered what it was like to be in front of them. Unfortunately for her, that day was today.

“Relax your attention, and prepare for an immediate live fire exercise. Your coat is wool, and will help deflect a majority of an impact if you have no other options.” His cane began to radiate enough red-colored light to change the color of his face. Temora relaxed her attention, preparing a dodging stance. Others took a single arm out of their jacket for more protection, bracing for impact.

“Your goal is to disarm me of this cane. If you are unable to do so, you will have failed. If you do fail, I’ll find something new for you to do today. We will start when the gemin ignites.” He swept the cane from its overhead position into one straight ahead. Every eye was trained on the gemin stone.

Rosin maintained that position, and the class of mixed undergraduates maintained theirs. Among the field was silence and accelerated heart rates. Temora felt it beating in her ears. A calming tone of wind caught the collars of their uniforms. Unknown to them, half the courtyard fields were excited to see this weekly occurrence.

She glanced over to her platoonmate, that bead of sweat fell a while ago. It was a full-on nervous sweat now. This guy had never been in a fight; in his life. Then again, neither had she, but only because her height intimidated others. She participated in enough contact sports to maintain her composure here. “I’m ready.” she thought. Staring at the gemstone, for a moment, she felt it was staring back.