That boy trudged home. He was thinking. In his hand he carried the invitation, golden letters and all.
He had waited for this a very long time. But now his application had gotten accepted and he was to go to that school - a warrior school.
That girl jumped up and down with joy. She'd gotten accepted into the Academy! She had been waiting for this for so long. Finally she was old enough, and they had indeed chosen her. Only the best got chosen, they said. She was one of them.
Back in the school preparations happened. Another new academic year would start soon. A new class of warriors to train. Many black clouds to disperse, territories to conquer and hold, and many new challenges to win.
It was going to be a fun new year, an exciting and most likely oftentimes exhausting one.
There was a war to win and battles to fight. Only the strongest survive.
12 courses would be taught over the whole three years.
Three years were never enough but hopefully they'd have gotten a bit of training from their parents already.
Some came from broken homes, though. Some had just now heard of this. Some had been training for this forever. - None of them would be prepared for the battles ahead, not a one.
This year was bigger than any before them. The Academy of Warriors, as old as it was (millenia), only now got traction and everybody, it seemed, wanted to be part of it.
They had chosen with great care. They had chosen against their better judgement. Yet they trusted the process - hopefully their new students would, too.