The central pentagon the Heart of galka roared with the echo of hundreds of boots stamping into formation from the four doors leading to each pentagon. sagiri stood at the very back, his muscles still trembling from the brutal pre-dawn training he barely survived. Sweat clung to his skin beneath the uniform, and his stomach twisted with hunger. He hadn't eaten breakfast. He had never had to worry about missing food and he clutched onto his stomach.
Boys filed into perfect lines by unit and year. Fourth-years, the strongest, most seasoned of galka stood closest to the inner dais followed by the third years, then the second years and of course the first years. Kai remained behind them, unseen but not unnoticed. Dozens of eyes flicked toward him, whispering about the "late comer," the "sixteen year old jumping to fourth year."
A single blast of the horn cut the air. Had everyone standing on alert with hands behind their backs and sagiri followed being the last one to get into position. The fifth door opened and Instructors entered in a straight line. Black coats flaring. Sashes ranging from obsidian black, gold edged with black, solid gold and one white with gold thread tight. Boots sounding like thunder. They walked in two columns toward the raised platform and stood in two perfect lines. The murmurs died instantly. Another horn sounded bringing the already silent place into total silence
"FORM UP!" a senior instructor wearing a gold edge sash stepped forward and barked. Gold edged black sashes were worn with senior instructors' rank. The impact was instant. Lines snapped straighter. Shoulders squared. Every boy's chin lifted with military precision.
" WARRIORS KNEEL!" A wave of movement rippled through the hall as hundreds of young soldiers dropped to one knee, right fist pressed over the chest over the heart. A gesture of discipline, loyalty, and complete silence. Sagiri followed a beat late, falling into the wrong knee awkwardly before he changed. He felt the stares but it couldn't be helped, no one cared to tell him anything anyway, it was as if they wanted him to learn the hard way.
"WARRIOS CREED!" The instructor's voice rang again and with a thumb to the chest a chorus broke out shaking the very foundation of the assembly ground.
"We are the sons of Galka. Forged in hardship, discipline and purpose. Our minds are sharp, our bodies unyielding, our loyalty bound to our unit and our code. We rise with honor. We train without fear. We endure without complaint.
"Strength is our duty. Unity is our shield. Victory is our destiny. Pride is our armor
"We stand as one. We kneel as one. We fight as one.
"Galka does not raise boys. Galka raises weapons."
It was indeed powerful. They started it and they finished it with another thump to the heart. The instructor stepped back and a presence walked through the fifth door. White Boots struck the platform above to signify the arrival of the principal senraki, the Grand Marshal Zazami Taren Senraki and principal of Galka War Academy. His white coat over his white combat made him appear more graceful than threatening. His purple sash was tied to his upper hand. He stopped at the center.
Silence tightened for a long moment as he assessed every corner of the room before he cleared his throat. Then his voice carried across the hall, deep as a war drum.
"Warriors of Galka," Taren began, hands clasped behind him, "Today marks the eighty first day of this academic cycle. You stand here stronger than you were yesterday, and weaker than you will be tomorrow. The recruits sash change is a week away and they will officially become the first years of Galka war academy." His gaze swept across the sea of kneeling boys, lingering for a heartbeat on the First Year ranks.
"We train you not to fight battles. We train you to win them." A few boys bowed their heads at the familiar creed. He was the picture of calmness before a storm.
"But today," Taren continued, "we acknowledge a rare occurrence. A new student has joined us, a young man entering his final year as an aged student." A shock of whispers stirred and died instantly when the instructors glared. sagiri felt the weight of hundreds of eyes, even though none dared move.
"Most of you began at thirteen," the principal said. "You have been shaped, broken, and reforged over three years. This student has nine months to catch up to you." He paused. "He will not receive special treatment. He will not be shielded. If anything his challenge will be harsher and I encourage you to show him how we do it here in Galka. Remember respect is earned." A ripple of approval moved through the boys, he knew the last statement was made for him and he had to earn their respect. Taren's voice however hardened when spoke next because could clearly hear groans of dissatisfaction from the boys. Especially the fourth year. They still held distaste for him
"Do not underestimate him. A warrior forged in pressure can break or even become stronger than all of you." Sagiri's heart thudded against his ribcage. The principal's words were meant to encourage him and he knew he had to work twice as hard if he had a chance of earning even the littlest of respect from his peers. "This academy accepts only strength, discipline, and always will." he said glaring at the fourth year cadets for a long second. He could only sense hostility from them but he was not going to allow indiscipline. He lifted his hand in a single sweeping command.
"Rise only when dismissed. Fight only when ordered. Learn always. Protect your unit. And remember Galka does not raise boys." His eyes sharpened. "Galka raises weapons." The final horn sounded just as he finished his speech
"ASSEMBLY DISMISSED." principal Senraki announced stepping off the podium. But no one moved, not until grand marshal Taren and the instructors stepped off the platform and left the hall. Only then did the boys begin to stand, in perfect synchrony boots hitting the flour in an easy stance the right hand to the heart and another by the side.
His lesson after the assembly was the compressed subjects taught in the first year. It included the theory of terrain advantage, theory of small unit maneuvers, theory of battle simulations and theory tactical reading. He would not have an instructor for theory and he would just go to the second year library to study by himself for three hours.
The second year library was cold and smaller than the fourth year one. Rows of shelves stood rigid against the walls, thick books stacked in towering columns, their worn spines hinting at years of hard study. Everything was silent except the faint rustle of pages and the scratch of quills from students scattered across the room. Sagiri ignored all the curious eyes and slipped into a table at the far corner, the curriculum folder heavy in his hands. His stomach burned with emptiness, twisting angrily, reminding him he had missed breakfast again. He followed the written landmarks on the shelves and picked out the four books. He could have just picked one but with the archive inside of him he knew he only needed to read once to know all the theories like the back of his hands. He laid the four books out on the table, the Terrain Advantage, Small Unit Maneuvers, Battlefield Simulations and Tactical Reading and Analysis textbooks. He needed to finish up reading all the theoretical books quickly so he could focus more on combat which he was bad at. I need to wrap up the first year theoretical study in one month instead of two or more so I can stand a chance to stand on the same footing with the others.
The first page showed a hand drawn map: hills, valleys, rivers, cliffs, forests, plains. The lesson felt simple at first until he saw the depth of it.
"Terrain is not a backdrop. It is a weapon," the text read. He tried to read through the first page so the archive inside of him could absorb it but he could not focus. His head throbbed with every heartbeat. He was too hungry to understand anything. He pushed himself to read but the archive inside of him consumed almost all of his remaining strength. The next few pages were about high ground superiority. Sagiri's vision blurred for a moment, lines doubling.. It was almost impossible to absorb what he read at a snail pace at the moment.
He rubbed his temples tiredly, His power stirred faintly inside him, the archive which used his energy to function could not run in his weakened state. He tried to read but he felt physical pain so unbearable as if something was barely holding together inside of him and it could burst open at any moment. Another bolt of pain struck behind his eyes. He gasped softly. It was like ramming into a locked door. He closed the book, breathing shakily. He needed food and energy more than he had imagined. Strength to study and strength to read.
STUDENT AND SASH
Recruit_ ash-gray sash
1st year_ deep brown sash
2nd year_ forest green sash
3rd year_ midnight blue sash
forth year_ crimson red sash
the students wear their sash on the waist tied backwards leaving it extended
OFFICIALS RANK AND SASH
junior instructor_ obsidian black sash
senior instructor_ gold-edged black sash
commander/ division leader_ solid gold sash
captain/academy's marshal_ white with gold thread sash
principal/ grand marshal_ purple sash
The instructors wear their sash around the arms. Much smaller one.
The principal wears a white combat with a flowing white overcoat with the Galka war school at the back the instructors wear black combats with overcoats with the galka war academy crest and the students dark grey combats with no overcoat still with a smaller crest at the back. hope this helps