1.13 – Barracks

1.13 – Barracks

‘First-year barracks’ wasn’t a wholly correct way to describe the accommodations. Technically, there weren’t any policies mandating that a person bought their way out of the shared living space, not that Natalie knew of. So there could be second-years, or fourth, for that matter.

But any reasonable person would get out of the barracks as soon as possible. Even the most long-suffering didn’t want to be crammed in with dozens of other students, especially in what wasn’t so much a room as a long hall lined shoulder-to-shoulder with beds and lockers.

Natalie had arrived late, relatively speaking. Tinford was in the far south of Valhaur, and the five-hour train-ride was longer than the vast majority of students had needed to travel.

Walking slowly in, wearing her backpack and lugging her suitcase in one hand, Natalie scanned her surroundings, looking for Jordan. There were no guarantees they’d be roomed together. Considering the size of the barracks, though, there weren’t horrible odds. Natalie didn’t have an idea how big Tenet’s yearly student-intake was, but surely not more than a few hundred.

Which still meant roughly eight barracks of this size. So not great odds, either. But random chance might bless them. Natalie tried not to get her hopes up, because she doubted they’d land the one-in-eight dice toss. She’d never be so lucky.

Peering around, hopes deflating, she didn’t see Jordan’s black hair tied up in a bun. And even worse than that ... something else caught her eye.

Hair, of a more distinct, recognizable quality.

White hair.

Natalie barely didn’t groan. Sofia. Of course she’d gotten placed in Sofia’s barracks.

And, as Natalie finished looking around the long hall with growing dread, she realized something else. All of the beds were claimed. Not all had their occupants present, but all were claimed. Literally. Every single one, besides a single. Natalie was the last of the barracks suite to arrive—and Sofia had been second to last.Updated chapters on novelbin(.)com

The bed was tiny, though enough to fit a single person comfortably. The sheets were made with crisp edges. Natalie wondered how long that would last—the sharp, organized condition of everything here. Sure, Tenet had policies for keeping their living spaces in good condition, but they weren’t, to her knowledge, overly strict.

The similarities to a military academy were visible, but Tenet wasn’t such, not actually. She might be required to make her bed in the morning, but there wouldn’t be drills, or instructors inspecting for the smallest infraction. That wasn’t, ultimately, what Tenet was here to encourage. Conformity wasn’t the goal. Conformity was the opposite of the goal. They wanted students who stood out as starkly as possible.

Despite the cramped layout, the quality of everything was outstanding. The barracks sparkled, floor to ceiling. There wasn’t a single scuff-mark or patch of discolored paint. Tenet was the premier training academy in all of Valhaur ... and likely in the top five for the world. Funding wasn’t a problem. How could it be? The students who left this campus, having graduated, were a collection of professionals who powered a staggering amount of the Valhaurian economy just by themselves. Monster cores grew in strength exponentially, and so the strongest adventurers hoisted society up on their shoulders, essentially, with the loot they dragged back from a delve. And a decent portion of that esteemed echelon of society came from Tenet.

Low- and mid-rank adventurers were just ... kind of there. Trying to reach those heights. Certainly useful, but a mid-rank monster core provided a sliver of a fraction of what a high-rank core did.

Tenet’s goal was to create high-rankers. The best. Hence, their exacting standards, and the systems they’d designed, carefully, to force competition—and thus growth.

Like being stuck in a shitty, cramped barracks, and having to buy your way out through their token system. Tokens, which were earned in a variety of ways ... but most notably, the obvious. Delving.

Or academic excellence. And academic excellence at a delving academy meant, most prominently, combat prowess. So more or less the same thing.

Sofia had her suitcase laid out across her bed, and she was unpacking her belongings into her locker.

Natalie arrived to her bed. Sofia looked up and saw her.

She grimaced.

“Preaching to the choir, Sofia,” Natalie said sourly, thumping her own suitcase onto the only open bed. “Preaching to the choir.”