A March of Kings by Morgan Rice

“is that when they return, they are done with the Legion. It only goes to 19. And then they graduate.”
    “And then what?” Thor asked.
    “If they make it through their final Hundred,” Reese answered, “then they go before the King, and the King chooses which become Knights. Then, if they are chosen, the kingdom places them in posts for patrol duty throughout the kingdom. They have to do two years of rotation. Then they return to King’s Court, and are eligible to join The Silver.”
    “Is it possible that they wouldn’t pass the Hundred? After all these years?” Thor asked.
    Reese furrowed his brow.
    “It is different for every age and every year. I know stories of many who have not made it, at any age.”
    The group of boys fell silent, as Thor stared into the flames, wondering what lay ahead of them. After a long while, there was a commotion, and the boys turned to see Kolk marching into the center of the circle, his back to the flames, flanked by two warriors. Kolk scowled down at the boys, slowly pacing, looking each one in the eye as he went.
    “Rest up, and eat up,” he said. “This will be the last time you do. From here on, you’re no longer boys, but men. You’re about to embark on the hardest hundred days of your life. When you return—if you return—those of you who return will finally be worth something. Now, you’re nothing.”
    Kolk continued pacing, walking slowly, looking as if he wanted to strike fear into each and every one of them.
    “The Hundred is not a test,” he continued. “It is not practice. It is real. What you do here, the sparring, the training—that is practice. But in the next hundred days, that is all gone. You will be entering a war zone. We are crossing the Canyon, will be beyond the shield, trekking for miles through the Wilds, into unguarded territory. We will be boarding ships, and crossing the Tartuvian Sea. We will be in enemy waters, far from the coast. We will be going to an island that is unmanned and unprotected from attack, in the heart of the Empire. We could be ambushed any time. There will be enemy forces all around us. And dragons lurk not far from there.
    “Without fail, there will be battle. A few of us warriors will accompany you, but mostly you will be on your own. You will be men, forced to fight real men’s battles. Sometimes to the death. This is how you learn battle. Each year, some of you will die. Some will be injured permanently. Some will drop out from fear. And the select few who return—those are the ones who merit joining the Legion. If you are too scared to go, don’t show up tomorrow. Every year at this night, a few of you will pack up and leave. If that is you, I hope you do. We don’t want cowards joining us.”
    With that, Kolk turned and stormed away, his men following.
    A low whisper spread among the boys, as they looked solemnly at each other. Thor could see fear on many of their faces.
    “Is it really that bad?” O’Connor asked a boy sitting beside him. The boy was older, maybe 18, and he stared into the flames, his wide jaw locked in a grimace.
    He nodded.
    “It is different every time,” he said. “I’ve had many of my brothers not come back with me. Like he said, it’s real. The best advice I can give you is to prepare for life-and-death. But I’ll tell you one thing: if you make it back, you’ll be a better warrior than you ever thought you could be.”
    Thor wondered if he could make it. Was he tough enough? How would he react when faced with real life and death combat? How could they sustain a hundred days of it? And what he would be like when he came back? He sensed that he would not return the same person. None of them would. And they would all be in it together.
    He looked at Reese’s face, and saw how distracted he was, and realized he was weighed down by something else. His father.
    “I’m sorry,” Thor said to him.
    Reese did not look at him, but slowly nodded, his eyes welling, looking down at the