Building a Modern Nation in a Fantasy World

One of the recruits, sitting cross-legged among a small cluster of men, hesitantly raised his hand. His voice cracked slightly as he spoke.

"Sir… I-I don't know how to read. How am I supposed to study these? Does that mean I won't be able to become an officer of the law?"

A heavy silence fell across the entire training field.

The instructor's sharp eyes snapped toward the speaker. The man couldn't have been more than twenty-five, with sun-darkened skin, calloused hands, and a nervous posture that spoke of hard labor rather than military drills. His clothing was plain, the stitching rough and uneven—a laborer's son, no doubt. One look, and the instructor could already tell: no formal education, no noble blood, no connections.

But of course, this was inevitable.

Arthur, when drafting the recruitment requirements, had deliberately chosen not to make reading or writing mandatory in the first round. The focus had been clear: physical capability, moral character, discipline, and above all—a willingness to serve. The recruiters had thoroughly screened every candidate: no serious criminal records, stable temperament, decent stamina, and most importantly, a clean reputation. But literacy? That was a luxury most commoners were never afforded in this world.

The man's honest question was not unique. Judging by the uneasy shifting and murmurs growing across the ranks, many shared the same fear. Dozens of recruits were nervously eyeing their thick leather-bound rulebooks as though they were staring at ancient magical relics.

Even Jareth, who had been eagerly flipping through his own copy minutes ago, felt a chill in his stomach. Right… he thought bitterly. I never truly learned to read either.

Sure, he could recognize a few words—basic market signs, price tags, merchant banners—things he had memorized from years of wandering the stalls of Iron Hearth. But actual reading? Full sentences? Legal codes? Official procedures?

No.

How had he not thought about this sooner? His excitement had blinded him. And now, reality gnawed at his hope.

The instructor's voice suddenly broke through the growing tension.

"What's your name and age, boy?"

The recruit blinked, surprised by the question. "My name's Thom, sir. I am currently twenty-four years old."

The instructor nodded thoughtfully. "You're young. You still have time to learn."

He paused there, allowing his next words to settle before delivering them—words that every man and woman on that field was desperate to hear.

"To answer your question," the instructor said calmly, but firmly, "yes. You cannot serve as a full-time Officer of the Law if you cannot read or write. You would not know how to enforce laws you cannot understand."

The statement hit like a hammer across the entire courtyard.

A ripple of dread swept through the recruits. Shoulders slumped. Heads lowered. Silent frustration clenched many fists. Moments ago, they stood on the edge of a new beginning, and now they stood before what felt like an impossible wall.

Did I come all this way for nothing?

Am I going to be dismissed now?

Do I have to leave if I fail?

Bitterness bubbled in some.

If I'd known this, I wouldn't have applied!

This is unfair! The nobles and rich merchants will always have the upper hand!

Some simmered with quiet rage.

This system favors the privileged again. It's just like the old days!

They say Keldoria is changing, but it's all just words, isn't it?

Jareth's chest tightened painfully. His fear wasn't anger—it was dread.

Am I really going to lose everything after coming this far?

He thought of his sister's childish drawing tucked in his pouch. The sacrifices he'd made. The nights patrolling Iron Hearth with nothing but a wooden staff because no one else would. All of it, now teetering on the edge.

But before that dread could fully take root, the instructor's tone shifted sharply, louder and clearer than before.

"You all don't need to worry if you can't read or write yet," he declared, his voice booming over the field. "You will not be dismissed. You will not be sent home."

A new wave of silence spread—this time one of confusion and cautious hope.

The instructor continued, his tone steady and deliberate. "His Majesty understands where you come from. Many of you never had the opportunity to learn. That is not your fault. That is the fault of the broken system we are here to replace. This institution is not built for the privileged. It is built for those willing to rise above where they were born."

The recruits straightened slightly as those words settled. Hope was returning, hesitant but undeniable.

But before the air could fully relax, Thom's hand rose again, voice trembling slightly but filled with nervous determination.

"But sir!" Thom called again. "Didn't you say we have to study chapters one through four and have both an oral and written exam by tomorrow?"

Once more, a heavy silence fell as everyone waited for the answer, the weight of the question anchoring hundreds of gazes on the instructor.

"Yes," the instructor said with a short nod. "That is correct. Whether you can read or write, there will still be an exam tomorrow."

A chorus of gasps, nervous murmurs, and frustrated sighs rippled through the formation.

But the instructor immediately raised his hand, slicing through the rising anxiety like a sword.

"However!" His voice rang out powerfully. "Even if you fail, you will not be disqualified from becoming an Officer of the Law. The exams are not intended to eliminate you—they are intended to evaluate your current capabilities so we may assign you proper training. You are not here to be perfect—you are here to improve."

He took a deliberate step forward, his boots echoing on the stone.

"Let me explain how your ranks will work. This system is not one you've seen before. His Majesty designed it himself, based on knowledge and systems gathered from distant lands beyond Keldoria's borders. We are not building simple city guards, mercenaries, or noble household soldiers. We are building something greater—a dedicated civil force. A true law enforcement institution."

The recruits listened intently, every word now carrying a sense of weight far beyond what any of them had expected.

The instructor raised his hand again, beginning to count off the ranks:

"First: Probationary Officer.

That is where you all stand now. You are being evaluated and shaped. You are trainees. You hold no authority yet, but you are the foundation of this new order."

"Second: Police Officer.

Once you complete your training, you will be promoted to full Police Officers. You will patrol cities, investigate crimes, respond to disputes, and serve the citizens of Keldoria as the frontline of law and order."

"Third: Senior Officer.

Those who show competence and leadership will be promoted to oversee small patrol teams, assist in investigations, and mentor new officers. You must command both respect and trust."

"Fourth: Sergeant.

Sergeants lead full squads. They coordinate field operations, handle complex incidents, maintain discipline within their ranks, and directly enforce standards."

"Fifth: Lieutenant.

Lieutenants oversee entire districts, managing multiple squads and collaborating with local magistrates and noble representatives. They ensure not only that laws are enforced, but that they are applied fairly."

"Sixth: Captain.

The highest rank beneath the Royal Inspector Generals. Captains command entire cities or multiple regions, oversee major investigations, shape policy, and report directly to the Royal Court."

The instructor let the ranks sink in. His voice lowered, almost reverent.

"This system will not favor those born into power. It will favor those who earn it."

An awe-stricken murmur spread across the field.

Jareth, heart pounding again, raised his voice one more time.

"Sir… what about those of us who never had access to education? Are we expected to afford tutors?"

The instructor's eyes sharpened, but there was a hint of pride in his voice as he responded.

"You misunderstand, recruit. The education you lacked was the failure of the old kingdom. But this… is His Majesty's system."

He pointed to the towering castle behind them.

"All Probationary Officers will receive full education for free. You will be taught to read, to write, to understand the law you will one day uphold. You will receive literacy instruction, legal studies, incident response training, conflict de-escalation, investigative methods, and combat training. Every one of you."

A ripple of stunned silence washed over the recruits.

Free education? For people like them? It was unheard of. A few jaws dropped. Some exchanged wide-eyed glances, unable to fully grasp the magnitude of what was being offered. For many, this wasn't just an opportunity to serve—it was a chance to break free of generations of poverty and ignorance.

The instructor continued, his tone now carrying a proud weight.

"Furthermore," the instructor added, "you will receive proper housing, food, uniforms, and a monthly salary—even as Probationary Officers. Upon promotion to Police Officer, your salary will increase further."

Gasps erupted again—this time filled with astonishment. For many, free education, housing, and stable pay were beyond any dream they had ever dared to imagine.

Some were speechless. Some had tears shimmering in their eyes.

Thom whispered to Jareth, voice trembling, "I… I never thought people like us would get this kind of chance."

Jareth nodded, his voice quiet but steady. "Neither did I. But now that we have it… we won't waste it."

The instructor then clapped his hands sharply, pulling them all back to attention.

"Now! You will be divided into teams. You will train together, study together, and serve together. The comrades beside you will be your brothers for years to come. Learn to rely on one another."