Reynold wake up when the small wall clock in his room was showing 5:45 AM.
The minute hand was barely visible in the pre-dawn gloom, but he didn't need light to know the time.
He slid out of bed and was on the floor instantly, dropping do his daily set of push-ups.
He finished his usual hundred. After a quick wash, he tied his brown hair back, put on his clean black uniform.
Classes started today.
He grabbed his timetable and go through it.
The first class was Unified Combat Strategy (UCS 101). It was a Joint class for both Riders and Mages.
Grabbing his parchment and a stylus, he left the room. The common area was empty. His three roommates, the strange, silent ones were already gone. Perhaps they, too, felt the first-day jitters.
Stepping outside, the main quad was filled with new candidates rushing to the hall.
A mix of black and blue uniforms, were moving. Everyone was focused on their own own classes.
Following the map, Reynold soon arrived at the lecture hall for UCS 101.
It was massive and a wide, semi-circular room designed to hold hundreds. Being a joint class, it was nearly full.
Reynold scanned the rows. Nameplates were used to identify their seats.
His was in the last row, far to the right. A few heads turned as he walked down the aisle to his seat.
The hall was filled with murmurs from every angles.
The murmurs stopped completely when the professor entered.
She was a woman of about fifty, wearing simple black trouser-suit and a blue tunic. Her gray-streaked hair was pulled back severely, and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses rested on her nose. She was holding just a leather-bound parchment.
She walked onto the raised stage, place the parchment on a high wooden lectern, and picked up a piece of chalk.
Her hand was steady as she wrote: UnifiedCombatStrategy (UCS101)
Thisfoundationalcoursefocusesonthecoreprinciplesofcombined-armswarfare.
She dropped the chalk, turned, and faced the students. Her eyes swept across the room.
"Good morning. I am Professor Telas. And as you can see, this is not a class for Mages alone, nor for Riders alone. It is for both." Her voice sounded throughout the hall.
"In this course, we will learn formations, logistics, and combined-arms warfare. This includes, but is not limited to, how a magic user can best shield a Rider, and how a Rider can best provide aerial support to Mages on the ground."
A young man in a black rider uniform in the second row stood up. He had the arrogant look of someone used to being right.
"Professor Telas, I apologize for interrupting," he said, his voice clear. "But I don't understand the purpose of this class. We riders have dragons. Dragons breathe fire. Surely, we don't need Mages to 'shield' us when we have the most powerful weapon in existence?"
"An excellent question," she replied, dryly. She didn't address the boy directly, but directed her next question to the room. "Has anyone here heard of the Aether Tribe?"
A hand shot up from the middle of the hall. The student was a tall looking Rider cadet.
Professor Telas gave him a nod. "Yes, Cadet."
The boy cleared his throat, his uniform black like Reynold's. "The Aether people, Professor. They're often called the Aetherclaws. They are a nomadic tribe to the far east. Their primary combat formation is the Sky-and-Soil Pincer. They use both land and air. On air, they have the Skreel-Riders, who ride the venom-spitting Skreel. On land, they use their fighters, the Iron Talons."
"Excellent, Cadet," Professor Telas praised. "A precise description." She stepped away from the lectern, looking directly at the arrogant rider who asked the question.
"The Skreel," she continued, her voice calm, "breathes not fire, but a highly corrosive, neuro-toxic venom. That venom can weaken a full-grown dragon in seconds. A single drop can kill a Rider or a Mage instantly. And their Iron Talons?"
She shifted her eyes to the whole class. "Their arrows and blades are made with that same venom. A scratch is a death sentence."
She returned her eyes to the arrogant rider. "Now, tell me. In a scenario where you are surrounded by Aetherclaws, Iron Talons coming from the ground and Skreel-Riders attacking from the sky, how do you, a rider, with all your dragon survive?"
The cadet licked his lips nervously. He didn't know what to answer.
"If you have any hope of defeating them in a full-scale battle, you need both sides working as one.." Professor Telas's expression turn cold. "Never. Never, should any of you deem any class here as 'unnecessary' or 'beneath' you. To survive on a real battlefield, the Rider needs the Mage to ground them, to shield them from poisoned blades. And the Mage needs the Rider to clear the venom-spitting death from the sky."
She took one last, commanding look at the rider, who was now quietly sitting back into his chair, before turning back to the board.
"Now. Let us move on to today's lesson." She picked up the chalk again and wrote:
Air-to-GroundSignals (TheSixCommands)
"These signals," she began, tapping the board with the chalk, "are the language of necessity between a Rider in the air and a Mage on the ground. A dragon's roar cannot always be heard over a battle. Your voice certainly won't be. These six visual commands are the bedrock of our combined-arms survival."
She began to detail the first command, a simple two-arm sweep meaning: Air Support Needed Immediately.
Reynold opened his parchment as he started writing every details the professor was saying...