Hearing the murmurs, Reynold just sighed and took his head down, clenching his hands into fists as he tried to ignore them.
Youths who their both parents were great riders and warriors were given the privilege to come for the physical selection test at the age of 15.
Those whose parents are not, were allowed to apply from 18 years.
Four years ago, Reynold had failed this physical selection for the Wyrmwood Rider Academy on purpose. His parents, both great Dragon Riders and warriors, had given him the privilege to even be invited at the age of fifteen, but all he had always wanted was a simple life; be a good merchant, make a tidy profit, and get married to Laena.
He didn't mind if Laena wanted to be a Rider; he just wanted her. So, he had fake being weak by taking clumsy fall on the very first test.
Now, at nineteen being the last age youths are allowed to apply, his motivation was just a few words in his mind; Get into the Academy at all cost.
A harsh voice cut through the air. "Did I hear someone say he is Reynold Starweaver?"
Reynold snapped his head up. A youth in an overly expensive, black-threaded robe was charging toward him. His face was a filled with cold anger.
"Your surname is Starweaver, huh?" the boy spat, skidding to a stop. "Your parents were the reason my father got demoted in rankings!"
Before Reynold could even open his mouth, the boy's hand shot out, giving Reynold a brutal punch on his jaw.
Reynold's face snapped to the side. Slowly, he raised a hand to touch the place the boy punch. Before he could turn back, the boy grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.
The boy groaned, his voice low as he speaks. "It's a good thing your parents died in the war, otherwise I'd—"
Slap. Slap.
Reynold's right hand moved in a fast speed, connecting with the boy's cheekbone as he gave him double slap.
The rich boy released the collar, clutching his cheek in utter disbelief. He staggered back a step.
The crowd gasped. Did the weak boy just slap the rich kid?
In an instant, the rich boy's three waiting crew members, hulking youths wearing the same expensive robes as the boy stepped in and grabbed Reynold from behind, pinning his arms.
A mocking laughter twisted the rich boy's face. He rubbed his cheek and sneered.
"You wanna throw some punches, huh? Fine. Let's see how strong you are when I'm done with you."
Reynold struggled furiously against the three arms pinning him, his muscles straining.
Trying to free himself, something small and wooden fell from his pocket and clattered onto the cobblestones.
The rich boy's smirk dropped. He bent down and picked it up. Seeing what it was, his face twisted into a deep, ugly frown.
The crowd who were watching, now seeing the object in the boy's hand, went from an expectant silence to a nervous murmur.
The object was a simple, worn wooden medal the two rider who returned his parents uniform gave him..
On the surface of the medal clearly the bold Signet of the King. It was the medal given to teenagers who lost both parents in the great war, a sign of protection that compelled any wealthy family to offer aid, food, or shelter to the holder of the medal.
The purpose of the medal was to protect the poor kids and the kids who has no one left who lost both parents in the war. It demanded respect and shielded the young orphans until they could stand on their own.
Reynold had never used it.
The rich boy's lips bit down hard.
He spoke through clenched teeth, his voice barely a hiss. "You are lucky, Starweaver. This medal saves you today. But this... this is not over. I will be back when you are no longer under the protection of the King."
The boy hissed, threw the wooden medal onto the ground at Reynold's feet as if it were a waste, and snapped to his crew, "Come on. Let's go."
They released Reynold and walked away quickly.
Reynold straightened his shirt, dusted off his shoulders, and sent a glare daggers at their retreating backs.
He bent and retrieved the medal, tucking it back inside his pocket.
Just then, a man in a crisp Senior Cadet uniform stepped onto a low, wooden stage.
"Candidates!" he barked, silencing the entire courtyard. "The first trial is about to begin. The Thousand-Step Ascent."
He gestured to a colossal, winding staircase that led to the main towering gates of the Wyrmwood academy main building. The staircase were high on the cliff face..
"This test is not merely about legs," the Cadet explained. "It measures your stamina, your willpower, and the discipline of your inner energy, your Qi Flow. The steps are designed to be inconsistent. A mild gravitational field will work against you. You must maintain a steady, disciplined pace. Dragon Riders require sustained endurance and composure under pressure."
He pointed to a table off to the side. "Go. Pick up the plate with your name. Then line up."
Reynold quietly walked over, found the simple ceramic plate marked 'Reynold Starweaver,' and walked to the burgeoning queue, his eyes were fixed on the stairs.
In a far corner, the rich boy, whose name was Kael, stood with his crew. His face was still flushed, but a slow smirk returned to his face.
He murmured to himself, "Let's see how you get into the Academy, Starweaver."
Soon, the long line began to move. The Senior Cadet took a seat at a desk, a recording scroll and stylus ready.
Once the first set already took the test, the senior cadet cleared his throat and began calling out the names of the first set.
Reynold held his plate. His set was the next after the first name set is called.
"Elara Stonehand. Score: 48 points. Time: 35 minutes. Failed."
"Jarett Highwind. Score: 50 points. Time: 25 minutes. Passed."
"Nessa Sunstrider. Score: 52 points. Time: 25 minutes. Passed!"