Eleanor was quite infatuated with Willem, and had tried multiple times, unsuccessfully, to convince her parents to take him in to their household. Knowing there was nothing she could do for him despite his hardships made her feel quite useless.

Willem said his heartfelt farewells to his friends to whom he had so intimately shared in many adventures with before heading to the Knights apprenticeship.

Within the Bastion of Hope, young boys had to decide whether they would take up the sword or the wand. Those who had aptitude for the wand would often choose it, though some with magical capability would still go with the sword in order to join the Army and protect their families on the front line.

Three days later, as Willem registered his name and stood in line, an instructor came and spoke to the boys who signed up. He looked over the crowd and saw Willem. With black hair and green eyes, Willem did not stand out compared to any of the other children. His features were unrefined but gave out a kind of scholarly elegance, and within his eyes shimmered a small light of hope.

Though his stature was only a few inches above four feet, he was almost all skin and bones. Due to not having enough food he suffered from severe malnourishment, which plagued him every night. He appeared as all but a few children did, sickly and weak. The only difference between them and Willem was that years of willing labor gave Willem a decent amount of muscle definition.

"Listen up, this is not a game. Those who choose the martial path may not even make it past these walls. For anyone having second thoughts, leave now and we will not hold it against you. To those who stay, pray for the good luck to see you through the training." The instructor seemed to be on the verge of yelling at the young boys in the group.

All applicants were accepted for the apprenticeship as long as you were of a certain age. Willem had just turned twelve recently and was accepted after they had confirmed his bone density through nature magic. He walked forward, confirming his identity with the instructor as an apprentice in training, as did all the other apprentices.

For six grueling months, Willem was put under hellish training with boys similar to his own age. Mediocre meals were served, and incredible pressure weighed down on the minds of the children everyday. Blood and sweat poured from the youth as they ran a marathon of ten kilometers everyday, carrying weights that would even make adults struggle and writhe.

This was not just a test of their body but a test of their mind as well, the conviction to see something through to the end was important to the army who fought life and death battles at any time.

The children under apprenticeship were provided with barracks and began to truly appreciate the companionship they had together, since in this hellish landscape they only had their brothers to rely on until the end. If one brother fell, two would be at his side to pick him up and carry him to the end of the line.

In one instance, Willem himself fell over from heat exhaustion and fatigue. Two brothers whom were standing nearby helped him up, and they became fast friends that would do everything together.

Willem would often seek out those two children that helped him that day, whom he had become well acquainted with in this small frame of time.

Eli was the older brother and boasted about it quite often. With a head full of disheveled brown hair and intense brown eyes as well as a well defined body from constantly beating his younger brother. Mark also had brown hair and brown eyes, but was much gentler and more refined in his actions, as if years of being beat up made him realize how much more he wanted to protect instead of inflict harm.

The brothers Eli and Mark had taken a liking to this small young boy whom had no defining features and was quite underwhelming, which made them stand out even more.

Willem understood that the only reason they kept him company was due to this fact, but it did not bother him. Having someone to pick you up when you fell down to exhaustion was more important than standing out for him.

Through thick and thin, these three stayed together and trained together, each improving while sparring among themselves. On occasion Knights would appear to see if they could find some outstanding talent to mentor, and Eli would take the lead and suppress Mark and Willem to show his superiority to the Knights.

Sometimes Mark would be bothered about his brother showing off, but Willem did not mind much at all. As long as he remained an apprentice, he was given free food, even if it was second grade slop that even the dogs winced at. Anything to eat was better than the spoiled and rotten food scraps Willem was forced to buy.

Often, the conversations that the boys would have revolved around why they chose the martial path. Eli and Mark chose this path because their Mother was tired of hearing them fight all the time, and threatened to disown the both of them if they chose not to follow in their Father's footsteps. Unbeknownst to Willem they were from a moderately known noble house.

Willem could never muster up the courage needed to answer them when they asked why he chose to become an Knight apprentice. Often he would divert the topic to speak about his friends in the inner city. Eli and Mark loved to hear about his adventures, as they had always been confined to their home in the inner city.

The stories Willem told kept them entertained through the marches, spars and late at night when their bodies ached and they could not sleep. Willem seemed to be the center of attention quite often, due to his Father's teachings of the martial path and his approachable atmosphere. He made no effort to stand out or bully the other apprentices which earned him the friendship of most in the Training Grounds, and if he was ever bullied those very same apprentices would stand by his side and chase off the offender.

At the end of the six months of intensive training, the final test was set to begin. The rules were simple, two children would face off in combat and only one could leave the ring willingly. Maiming was allowed but you could not take the life of another. This was the simplest form of weeding out the weak and the strong. Sometimes in combat, you need luck as well, which is why if you were given weak opponents that was also considered a strength.

After hundreds of separate fights between the young children; few were one sided victories, many were close fought matches and only one was a draw, to which both apprentices were disqualified. Both Eli and Mark had won their battles, with Eli using his superior reach to knock the opponents weapon away and Mark using tactics to force the opponent out of the ring. That hammered down even more to Willem that he needed a quick and precise victory so that none could doubt his martial prowess.

As his name was drawn and he entered the stage to fight, it was announced openly that his opponent was the undisputed number one for the apprenticeship among those present. His pupils shrunk and he cursed his luck as the boy stepped up and approached Willem on stage.

Willem quickly realized just how much of a difference in size there was between himself and the reputed number one. Standing nearly half a foot taller and much bulkier than Willem, this boy was almost the same size as some adults.

Willem reached out his hand as a show of good sportsmanship, hoping to be spared at least a little dignity after his inevitable defeat. The large youth swiped Willem's hand away and readied his weapon just above his waistline.

Willem took a defensive stance, something he picked up from watching Eli spar with his brother. Both Mark and Eli had become very proficient swordsmen by watching their Father. Eli had shown remarkable skill in the defensive stance, being able to take all sorts of attack and waiting patiently for the time to strike.

"My name is Willem Saye, please do not hold back." Willem was barely able to mutter the words out under the vicious gaze of his opponent.

"Edwin Forrest." The boy took an offensive stance that seemed at any moment he would pounce and devour his prey.

The officiator lifted his hand to the sky, and thrust it down to the ground with enough force to send wind in all directions. A clear symbol that the fight was to begin.

Edwin sprinted forward faster that Willem could comprehend, sending the wooden practice sword directly for Willem's unguarded left. To Edwin's dismay, the left was unguarded as a feint. Willem twisted his body and sent the whole of his generated force into a horizontal swipe at Edwin's left kidney. Almost unnaturally quickly, Edwin deflected the attack and bashed Willem in the chest, cracking three of Willem's ribs.

Whispers filled the crowd of onlookers, to them it seemed like Willem had taken the initiative, but it was painfully obvious that Edwin used some kind of body strengthening magic. Normally that would mean he should have been a part of the magic academy, but body strengthening magic was actually trained in combat and therefore he chose to be a part of the Knight's apprenticeship training.

Willem's organs twisted in agony as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. He could only curse his bad luck in getting such a strong opponent. A cold light came from his eyes as he took a knee to recover. Edwin stepped forward two paces in order to deal the finishing blow. Seeing this, Willem forcefully stood up coughing another mouthful of blood. Healers were stationed as an emergency nearby, so the boys understood they could go all out without fear of death.

Edwin swung down with a chop, as if he were breaking wood, with enough force to break bone. Willem did his best to dodge the attack and rolled away to mitigate the force of the blow. Anyone could see that if it was just a straight forward duel, Willem was far more dexterous than Edwin, which in combat was everything. What was the point of strength when you could not even hit your opponent? Unfortunately for Willem, Edwin's body strengthening expertly made up for the fact that he was slower by augmenting his speed.

Willem again cursed his bad luck as he wretched up another mouthful of blood. The stage now looked considerably worse than it did before with small pools of blood in various spots.

Willem could tell that this was not a battle he could win, and his only hope now was to show so much tenacity and willpower that a Knight would make him a squire.

Though fundamentally different, squires and apprentices had the same standing. Squires were direct subordinates of Knights and therefore had better training and resources. Apprentices would take lessons and learn in general, but would have to work much harder to get the equivalent of what squires got.

Eli and Mark looked on at the unfolding battle with a scowl on their face, ruining their childish delicate features. To them, Willem was now a brother and they could only hope that some Knight picks him up as a squire. With that he will be spared the life of a beggar or vagabond.

After a brief moment, Edwin regained his composure and again flung himself towards the injured Willem. Striking furiously with a flurry of blows, he aimed for the vitals of the young boy, hoping to hit him and make him surrender. Willem deftly maneuvered around the attack but had no way of counter attacking.

After five minutes of this back and forth, Willem had finally lost all stamina he had. His exhaustive training up until this moment had only prepared him until here. No longer able to bolster any defense or even lift up his arms, Willem slipped on some of the coughed up blood and fell prone. Eyes half closed, Willem waited for what seemed like an eternity for the final blow to knock him out.