ã€ŠThe Mage Aristocrat: A Progression Fantasy Adventureã€‹


 B1C1 - The Joy of Magic

    County Wycliffe

    Nearby Settlement

    Quinten Valtieri Ashford longed for magic.

    He watched his mother travel from settlement to settlement, healing the sick and injured, fulfilling the hopes of common farmers by conjuring the rain they prayed for. Quinten saw magic for what it was and knew the reason it was considered a Gift. It was a way to give freely, a way of improving the lives of everyone and everything.

    At twelve years old, Quinten¡ªQ to his family¡ªwatched his mother from where he sat in the mid-day sun under clear skies. She danced along the edge of a dry wheat field, each of her movements shifting the rainstorm to cover every square inch of parched earth. Her actions were playful and made her look even younger than her mid-twenties appearance would indicate. A benefit of her Gift of healing that gave her the ability to keep her and others looking young. Thunder rumbled across the field. Her blue dress whipped in the wind, rain soaking her flaxen hair. It matched the surrounding golden fields in color and stuck in long strands that framed her face, highlighting the joy radiating from her shining hazel eyes.

    He knew that no matter how drenched she became, by the time she reached the carriage, she would be entirely dry, smelling faintly of earth and the nutty scent of dry wheat.

    I would give anything to be Gifted , thought Q, but he knew it was a fool¡¯s dream.

    A strong hand ruffled Q¡¯s hair. He looked up, pouting at his father, who grinned in return.

    ¡°Stop sulking, boy. I know she is amazing to see in action, but it does you no good hoping to catch a falling star.¡± Julian said, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper. ¡°Now, if we leave right away, we can reach your grandparents'' estate by nightfall. Go ask your mother about a warm bath this evening. I bet that will get her moving instead of playing in the rain.¡±

    He turned and walked away with a wink. Ordering their carriage readied and for their guards to mount their horses.

    Obeying his father, Q sighed as the first cool raindrops landed on his sun-warmed skin.

    *****

    Capital City of Gremelda

    Royal Palace Council Chambers

    ¡°A large deposit of manadrite has been discovered along our northern border, Your Majesty,¡± stated Countess Isla Montague, King Fredericks¡¯ Minister of the Exterior.

    ¡°Along our border¡­ is it in our lands or not?¡± asked the king, leaning forward in his seat, the news stirring him from his previous boredom.

    Before Isla could respond, the Minister of the Interior interjected. ¡°Across the border, Your Majesty. Otherwise, we would know more and would have brought it to your attention sooner,¡± added Duke Alistair Wyndham, making no effort to hide his smirk from his rival council member.

    ¡°What would those savages and barbarians even use manadrite for?¡± asked the king. Looking at the men and women assembled around the large wooden desk. Arrange in a large circle, each of the King¡¯s Council seats sat filled. The Ministers of Interior and Exterior, Earl Eric Blackwood as the Minister of Coin, in charge of the kingdom¡¯s finances. Earl Hugo Valemont filling the role of Peerage Speaker, the representative link between the Realm and its nobility. Archmage Elowen Highbridge, the kingdom¡¯s chief magical advisor, and the one responsible for the study and regulation of magic in the kingdom. And last but not least, Marquess Henry Ashford, Lord Marshal, and the head of Rivenna¡¯s military forces.

    Manadrite, the metal currently being discussed, was a unique type of ore that was incorporated in mage staves, rings, and even swords when smelted down and Transmuted during the smithing process. The Gift-infused metal greatly enhanced a mage¡¯s ability to channel their magic. For some, it increased the speed of their casting. For others, it amplified the power behind their magic. And for a select few, it improved both, though to a lesser extent.

    The Countess continued, ¡°We do not yet know, Your Majesty. The find was only just discovered, and the first shipment of ore has yet to leave the mine. Our spies passed along the news before they finished their investigation. We will know more within the month, sire.¡±

    ¡°I want that metal,¡± the king demanded.

    the Lord Marshal, was the one to break the long silence created by the king¡¯s words.

    ¡°We would declare war over a single mine, Your Majesty?¡±

    The king stood from his seat, the heavy chair shrieking as its legs scraped across the stone floor. ¡°Are you questioning me?¡±

    The Lord Marshal remained seated, maintaining his relaxed position¡ªsomething few at the table could claim. ¡°No, sire. I simply ask for clarification.¡±

    A long moment passed before the king responded. ¡°Yes¡ªover a single mine. Manadrite is for  our  mages. It belongs to  Rivenna,  and if you were a mage, you would understand.¡±

    With an air of contempt, he turned away, calling over his shoulder. ¡°Hugo, come with me. We need to gather support for the campaign. I believe it is time that my son learned to lead his people.¡±

    *****

    Kingdom of Alden

    The Northern Forests

    Screams echoed from the rear of the column, forcing Prince Estes to call a halt to their march. They were navigating through another dense patch of forest. The road from the nearest city having ended miles earlier. They had two options:: travel single file through uncut game trails or to hack their way through and create a new trail.

    Prince Estes refused to duck under foliage like a commoner and demanded the latter, regardless of the increase workload for his men, effectively bringing the column¡¯s pace to a crawl.

    The first mile proceeded without issue, but that is where their good luck ran out. Hidden archers peppered the column with arrows, forcing the army to remain on guard.

    ¡°Have the archers return fire! We need to keep these savages off our flanks,¡± commanded the prince.

    Archery Captains sprang into action. Ordering their units to disperse amongst the column and provide covering fire. But there was a problem. Without a visible target, the archers fell back on their training and conserved arrows.

    The prince noticed the lack of arrows coming from his men.  They disrespect their commander. I cannot let this stand.

    ¡°You there, sergeant! Attend me.¡± The prince demanded, pointing at a nearby soldier.

    The man ran to obey, bowing. ¡°Yes, Your Highness, how may I serve?¡±

    ¡°You can serve as a lesson to your men. When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed!¡± Turning, he pointed to two nearby soldiers. ¡°I want this man flogged for the disobedience of his unit.¡±

    Shock and disbelief met the prince¡¯s judgement. Not wanting to be the next to receive his ire. The men dragged the sergeant away despite his protests, the men of his unit staring in confusion and uncertainty.

    Looking around at the lack of movement, the prince screamed, ¡°Do I need to order deaths instead of floggings! I said release!¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Arrows were loosed until quivers ran dry, but not a one found their mark.

    *****

    Kingdom of Alden

    The Northern Forests

    "Your Highness! The numbers are in¡ªwe''ve lost another 50 men, with half as many wounded. We''re averaging only two miles a day and are still ten miles from the mine''s reported location. If we continue at this rate, we may not have the numbers to take it by the time we arrive." The Captain knelt before the prince in the crowded command tent, packed with senior officers and nobles.

    Do mages have to do everything themselves?  The prince thought, eyeing the mages who kept their distance from the common soldiers. ¡°The archers have been useless, and our infantry are little more than arrow fodder. Can our mages do any better?¡±

    Lord Taskin Wyndham bowed. ¡°We can handle this, Your Highness. Leave it to us.¡±

    Mages were not formally enlisted in the army, their elevated status in society sparing them from such duties. Instead, they were part of the Mage¡¯s Core¡ªor simply "the Core"¡ªa separate institution that operated with a structure similar to standard military formations but on a smaller scale. The Core answered to its own leadership, separate from the chain of command used for the regular soldiers, allowing the mages to maintain a sense of autonomy while contributing their power to the battlefield.

    For Prince Estes'' northern campaign, the mage ranks swelled beyond those supplied by the Core. More than a hundred independent mages chose to join, each with personal ambitions tied to the venture. Most of them were young, politically minded men, eager to earn favor by being present at the prince¡¯s first major victory. They traveled willingly, hoping to enhance their standing or secure valuable alliances by being part of the campaign¡¯s success.

    Among them was a significant number of women, nearly a quarter of the mage contingent. These Gifted women weren''t just seeking victory¡ªthey sought suitable husbands among their male counterparts, aiming to secure better futures within Rivenna''s aristocracy.

    These mages did not have a military hierarchy, but their noble status naturally created an informal command structure. The majority hailed from the Peerage, and their respective titles dictated a framework of leadership. Those from lesser or non-noble backgrounds often grouped with others from their duchy or county, creating small, cooperative units. Over following days, their magic became indispensable, halting the Aldenian ambushes and putting an end to their hit-and-run tactics. When the first fireball ignited the canopy, setting both tree and archer ablaze, the tide of the battle shifted. The number of arrows aimed at the column plummeted, though the attacks continued sporadically, turning opportunistic when a mages grew complacent and allowed their attention to wander.

    After three days of poor sleep and being on constant high-alert, the mages finally cracked. Some refused to share the workload, with the higher-ranking nobles simply ordered those below them to take their shifts. It was just as the tired men and women hit their limits that the Aldenians launched their attack.

    The Rivennan column made camp, collapsing in exhaustion. They''d covered just over two miles and hoped to reach the mine the next day. After the third flogging, discipline in the camp deteriorated. Though the Army Captains held their units together, the once orderly rows had fallen into disarray.

    The Army Commander had a picket of guards spread out around the camp. With a mix of Core and noble mages filling in a tighter circle at the edge of the tents. The noble mages tasked with that evening¡¯s watch were all ¡°norm-born¡±. An insulting term used to describe a mage born from a non-magical paring, or a single gifted mother and a normal human father. Many felt that those not born of two mages were little better than commoners. In an effort to prove themselves, the norm-born mages took it as a matter of pride, manning their extra guard duty without complaint.

    Sadly, their pride would be their downfall.

    As the night approached its end, the witching hour tolled. The Aldenian forces creeped in like Death to a reaping. Their own magic, different in its attunement to nature, helped them blend with the forest. Muting their steps in the tall grasses and dried leaves. They stalked the sentries, dispatching them one by one.

    The space intentionally left open between the picket line and the mages standing guard would have been a problem. Were it not for the exhaustion pulling the unsuspecting mages into sleep. Only for them to be woken into a nightmare, or to never wake again.

    *****

    Sandra Beringer was  pissed.  She¡¯d been on night duty four of the last five nights, and  still  had to stand marching guard during the day. At one point, it became so bad that she demanded a break long enough that she could catch a nap in the back of a wagon. The Baron she spoke to tried to argue, but after meeting her eyes for only a moment, he sent her away to rest.

    ¡°What the¡­?¡±

    Sandra stood, straightening from where she''d been leaning against the wagon wheel.  I¡¯m sure something''s moving in the tree line.  She focused. Her dry, burning eyes made it hard to see clearly.  There it was again.

    Sandra pointed her palm into the air and conjured a fireball. Shooting it high overhead, her signal set the alarms to ringing, rousing the camp and setting it back on alert.

    Like an ocean wave, figures came pouring out of the woods from all around the camp.

    Sandra braced herself to fight, and was caught by surprise when a hand clamped over her jaw, muffling her scream. A blade so sharp she didn¡¯t even feel it until it struck bone, passed through her throat, silencing her once and for all.

    *****

    Capital City of Gremelda

    The Royal Palace

    The goblet of wine shattered as it struck the wall, wine running down the stone. Appearing sanguine in the firelight.

    Fitting, if things weren¡¯t so dire,  thought Marquess Henry Ashford.

    Roused out of bed for an emergency meeting, the Lord Marshal marched down the hallway toward the King¡¯s Council room. The King, Queen Clarissa, Countess Isla, Duke Alistair, and Archmage Highbridge were all in attendance.

    The news from the North was grim. The army''s deployment to the mine had gone badly, with the column harassed the moment they left the roads and entered the northern forests. Then a night raid decimated the Prince''s forces, leaving nearly a quarter of the 2,000 soldiers dead, along with fifty mages.

    They could not afford to lose any more.

    ¡°Go north and bring back my son, Lord Marshal,¡± the King commanded. ¡°Forget the mine and the manadrite. I want my army and mages safe.¡±

    Marquess Henry Ashford knelt and lowered his head. ¡°It will be done, Your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°Give him whatever he needs to make it happen and do so immediately,¡± said the King, addressing the remaining council members.

    ¡°Yes, your Majesty,¡± they chorused.

    *****

    The Lord Marshal led the army north to ¡°reinforce¡± the embattled prince. It took a week to gather men and supplies, and an additional three of travel to reach their current location.

    A scout had recently informed Henry that the prince was leading a large group of men on horseback and would reach them within the hour.

    Based on the scout¡¯s report, Henry suspected what the prince had done¡ªand hoped he was wrong. But as the approaching force came into view, disappointment washed over him.

    His aide-de-camp rode up beside him. ¡°Your orders, Lord Marshal?¡±

    Frowning at the approaching prince, he stated, ¡°I will check in on the prince, ensure he doesn¡¯t bleed out on the way back to the capital, and then we will go find the rest of our army.¡±

    ¡°As you say, my lord.¡±

    The prince was uninjured and currently making his way to his father with all haste to report on and draft a battle plan to deal with the northern savages.

    Henry fought to keep his expression neutral while he listened to the prince spout excuses.  Fool. You abandoned your men and are running home to daddy.

    The Lord Marshal had once had high hopes for the prince. As a child, he¡¯d been crafty and full of courage. But palace life had pampered him, and his interests shifted to court intrigue and the latest gossip. He had even heard rumors that, if things grew too dull, the prince would create his own entertainment.

    With his general staff following in tow, Henry mounted his horse and made his way back to his men. As he rode past the prince¡¯s force of nobles and mages, he noticed how drawn some of their faces were. Looking around, he watched several men and women experience a coughing fit.

    He turned to the nearest mage. ¡°Pardon me, are you well?¡±

    The man, a poorer noble or mage, bowed to the Lord Marshal before answering, ¡°Just a cough, my lord. It has been going around camp for the last two weeks. I must have picked it up as we left. Most seem to recover after only a few days.¡±

    Nodding his thanks, Henry responded, ¡°Heal quickly and take care of yourself.¡±

    Signaling to his horse, he rejoined his men and resumed their journey north, the gnawing sense that something was terribly wrong, haunting him the entire journey.

 B1C2 - Sickness, Betrayal, & Treason

    County Wycliffe

    Q picked at his pastry, half-listening to his family¡¯s whispers around the table. He hadn¡¯t been paying attention, but something in their tone shifted, catching his interest.

    Mages are getting sick? But can¡¯t the healers use their gifts to cure them?

    He shifted in his chair, leaning closer to hear their discussion. ¡°It¡¯s something new. The healers have never seen it before. It starts like a common cold, and for those without the Gift, that¡¯s all it is. They recover in a few days. But those of us with magic, it¡¯s different. The latest findings are that if you don¡¯t improve within the first month, you may never recover.¡±

    Popping a piece of his pastry into his mouth, Q couldn¡¯t help thinking,  I¡¯m glad Grandfather Henry isn¡¯t a mage if that¡¯s spreading where he is.

    Q¡¯s grandfather noticed his eavesdropping and scowled at him, waving his hand to halt the conversation. ¡°If we wanted you to hear this boy, we¡¯d have talked louder.¡±

    Q ducked his head and asked, ¡°Then can I please be excused? I¡¯m done eating.¡± At his father¡¯s nod, Q darted away from the table. Instead of running upstairs, he hid on the other side of the doorway and hoped they would speak louder if they thought he was gone.

    ¡°That child is too curious for his own good,¡± commented Julian.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you were the same, dear. My daughter certainly was,¡± Nadine Wycliffe said with a knowing smile.

    Q¡¯s mother, Katherine or Kat, scoffed at her mother, ¡°I was the picture of perfection, mother. Surely you remember¡ªor is your memory starting to slip?¡±

    Q grinned to himself, but he was glad to hear his grandfather return them to the previous topic.

    ¡°As I was saying, some mages are catching the sickness, and it¡¯s draining their magic¡ªat least, that¡¯s how they describe it. Each day, they grow weaker until their gift runs dry. The physical symptoms worsen. The cough fills their lungs with fluid and pus. Eventually, it drowns them. Over a hundred have already died,¡± said Ed gravely.

    100 mages!  Q wasn¡¯t sure how many mages there were in Rivenna, but he knew they were rare.

    He overheard his mother say, ¡°Julian, we may want to stay with my parents for the next few months. I know you have business in the capital, but it doesn¡¯t feel safe to travel.¡±

    ¡°I wanted to take Q to see my father, but with him being called into the field, that¡¯s out of the question. We will stay here, where I know you¡¯ll be safe, my dear.¡± Julian replied.

    Q had heard enough and quietly slipped away.  I was looking forward to that trip¡­ but maybe I can get grandfather or grandmother to use their Gift for me!

    Q raced up the stairs to change into his outdoor clothes. There was no way they were going to use magic inside the house.

    *****

    CRASH!

    The heavy wooden door flew open, slamming into the shelving with a bang. Quick footsteps followed as Duke Alistair Wyndham, Minister of the Interior, sat in a high leather-backed chair, staring at the fireplace¡¯s low burning coals.

    A man who wouldn¡¯t be in the Duke¡¯s home unless disaster had struck, knelt at his side.

    ¡°We have been discovered, your Grace.¡±

    ¡°How did it happen and how much was exposed?¡± Asked the Duke in an even tone.

    The man hesitated. ¡°We do not know for certain, your Grace. One of our men disappeared three nights ago. With his type, it isn¡¯t uncommon, so it was only brought to our attention yesterday. Today, we learned two more have gone missing¡ªassociates of the first. We believe the Crown has caught a thread and they are pulling to see what it unravels.¡±

    Silence stretched between them¡ªone seated, one kneeling, both contemplating how to survive their discovery.

    ¡°We need someone to point the investigation toward. The Lord Marshal is sitting upright on his high horse, sent to save the prince. I think it¡¯s time he is humbled. Here is what I want you to do¡­¡± The Duke gave his instructions, detailing who to hire. The man bowed and retreated from the room.

    Duke Alistair rose from his chair and made his way to his desk. Unstopping a bottle of ink, he sharpened his quill, pulled out a small red book hidden in the drawer, and flipped to the current code. After writing a short missive, he tugged the servant¡¯s cord, instructing a runner to deliver it at first light. There was no reason to alarm anyone by sending a message in the dead of night.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    *****

    County Wycliffe

    Settlement near Count Wycliffe¡¯s Estate

    Q ran through the falling rain, laughing as he danced and spun in circles. It had taken him a week to convince his grandfather to call a rainstorm. In truth, it was a plea for water from a nearby settlement suffering an unexpected drought. Count Edmund had been ready to give in, and this gave him the perfect excuse.

    That splash was HUGE! I wonder if grandfather can freeze the puddle.  Q thought, laughing. Pure joy ringing in his voice.

    ¡°Come along before you get too muddy. I need to dry you off, or you¡¯ll ruin the carriage¡ªthe Countess will never let me hear the end of it.¡± With a flick of his grandfather¡¯s fingers and a quick manipulation of air and water, Q was dry. He knocked the dried mud from his boots and hurried to his grandfather¡¯s side. They climbed into the carriage, the household guard forming up around them, and set off for the estate.

    Approaching the house, Q noticed an unfamiliar carriage parked at their gate. Passing through the an area that should have been guarded, Q couldn¡¯t help the uncomfortable feeling he felt starting in his belly.

    Yelling echoed through the open doorway. Stopping just before they reached the front steps, Ed gripped Q¡¯s shoulder and said, ¡°Son, go straight to your room once inside. Do you understand?¡± He could feel the tension in his grandfather¡¯s grip and could only nod his head. Peering at the men around them, he could almost feel their uncertainty as they followed his grandfather into the house.

    Entering the reception area, Q saw that it was filled with uniformed men. Arranged in a semi-circle around three figures facing his parents and grandmother, flanked by their household guard.

    ¡°Go, son, upstairs,¡± grandfather whispered, pushing Q towards the stairs. Turning, he addressed the room, ¡°What is the meaning of this? Who dares invade a Count¡¯s home?¡± His voice cutting through the noise and silencing the room. The guards he¡¯d had with him fanning out to block the room¡¯s exits.

    Q sprinted up the stairs but halted at the top, lying on his stomach. He peered through the railings at the scene below.

    Who are these people, and what do they want? Thought Q, biting his lip and white knuckling the railing balusters.

    The three men, and Q could clearly see they were all men from his current vantage, turned to face his grandfather. Ed did not recognize their faces, but the brooch pinned to the center man¡¯s chest was unmistakable. The Office of Inquisition. He¡¯d never dealt with their agents personally but from what he¡¯d heard, they rarely brought good news.

    The man must have seen the recognition on Ed¡¯s face because his tone held satisfaction when he spoke. ¡°Good, this should go easier now. By order of His Royal Majesty, King Frederick. We are here to arrest Earl Julian Ashford for the crime of high treason against his Majesty.¡±

    Stunned silence followed the announcement, broken only by Q¡¯s muffled gasp from the landing above.  Treason! Father? That¡¯s impossible. Why would they even think that?  Thoughts raced through his mind, chaotic and jumbled as he tried to make sense of the situation.

    All eyes shifted to the accused, but the confusion on his face was clear.

    ¡°Treason against the crown? Are you mad?¡± Julian¡¯s shock loosening his tongue.

    The man ignored the outburst, instead he waved his hand for his men to continue with the arrest.

    ¡°There has been a mistake. I have no reason to commit treason!¡± argued Julian, stepping back as Kat clutched his arm.

    Q took a death grip on the railings, his knuckles white, and his arms shaking.  No! they can¡¯t take him.

    ¡°That is not for me to decide, my lord. My orders are to place you under arrest and search your home for additional evidence of treason. As a member of the Peerage, you are entitled to a public hearing, where all evidence will be presented and you may argue your case before the king.¡± The agent explained.

    ¡°You are going to have to go with them, Julian. He is from the Office of Inquisition, and they have the authority to arrest nobles. Their warrants come directly from the King.¡± said Ed. Addressing the agent, he asked, ¡°Do you have a copy of the writ?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± reaching under his cloak, the man produced a folded wax-sealed packet. He passed it to the man beside him, who handed it to Ed. Examining the seal¡ªindeed the King¡¯s mark¡ªHe broke it and read aloud.

    The Office of Inquisition has been dispatched with this writ for the arrest of Earl Julian Ashford on accusation of the crime of high-treason against the crown. A plot to murder the royal family has been discovered with sufficient evidence presented to his Royal Majesty to authorize the following:

    The arrest of Earl Julian Ashford, the search of his lands, and the seizure of any evidence offering proof of either innocence or guilt.

    By His Majesty¡¯s Command, King Frederick the Grand

    At the bottom, the writ bore the royal family¡¯s wax signet, confirming its authenticity.

    ¡°It¡¯s signed by the King, Julian. You must go with them to the capital. We will get to the bottom of this farce. I will write to your father immediately and ride the winds myself if I must.¡±

    Julian¡¯s face, flushed with anger moments before, took on a grey pallor. He turned and kissed his wife. Leaning close, he whispered into her ear, ¡°My love, don¡¯t follow me to the capital. Stay here with our son. Promise me.¡±

    She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. He kissed her hands one last time before turning to the assembled men.

    Q leapt to his feet and sprinted down the stairs. His father strode across the room, making it halfway before Q crashed into him with a full body hug. ¡°NO! You can¡¯t take him. He did nothing wrong!¡±

    Julian lifted his son and held him tightly for a moment before passing him to his grandfather. Ed stepped forward with arms outstretched. He leaned down, kissed Q¡¯s head, and whispered, ¡°Take care of your mother until I get back. Can you do that for me?¡±

    Tears wet Q¡¯s eyes as he nodded jerkily, fighting to hold them back.

    Julian straightened and continued across the hall, the inspector¡¯s men forming up around him.

    Q¡¯s last sight of his father was of him walking out the front doors, head held high.

 B1C3 - Trial of Lies

    Kingdom of Rivenna

    Army Camp South of the Northern Forests

    ¡°Lord Marshal! Lord Marshal!¡± The flap to his command tent burst open as a runner barreled in.  He¡¯s not in uniform¡­ A message from the capital?

    Waving the panting man forward from where he sat behind his field desk, the Marshal signaled for one of his aides to fetch a glass of water.  Definitely not military, they¡¯d know better. What¡¯s the point of getting your message there faster if you can¡¯t breathe when you get there?

    The runner finally caught his breath and thanked the aide for the water, sipping to clear his dry throat. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my lord, but you needed to hear this.¡±

    ¡°Orders from the king?¡± The Lord Marshal asked, a tension tightening his voice.

    The man paled, even through the sweat and exertion.

    ¡°No, my lord. It¡¯s your son, the Earl of Ashford. He has been arrested and charged with high treason against the crown¡ª¡±

    If there was more to the message, Henry Ashford did not hear it. Already running out of his tent, the field desk thrown aside, and its contents strewn across the dirt. The Lord Marshal bellowed, ¡°GET ME MY HORSE, NOW!¡±

    *****

    Capital City of Gremelda

    Countess Katherine Ashford gripped the windowsill of the carriage as it neared the palace. Two weeks had passed since her husband¡¯s arrest, and today would be her first chance to see him. Her father had assured her that Julian was being kept in a noble cell at the royal palace, not abused like a commoner in the dungeon. But that did little to ease Kat¡¯s mind.

    Their marriage hadn¡¯t been arranged out of love. As a powerful mage in her own right, she had a good chance of finding a gifted man to marry. Yet, she was unsatisfied with the quality of unwed male mages she¡¯d met prior to marrying Julian. He claimed it was love at first sight, though Kat had her doubts. He initially came to her attention because of his noble rank as the son of a Marquess and being an Earl himself. It was his persistence and the level of effort he put into courting her that eventually won her over. Throughout their years together, his quiet strength, compassion, and willingness to seek her advice had transformed their political match into one of genuine affection. She would not lose him to these allegations.

    Her father¡¯s hand rested on her shoulder. ¡°He is innocent. We can only trust that His Majesty will see the truth and dismiss the charges.¡±

    Kat remained silent until a footman opened the door to their carriage, offering his hand to help her down. She and her father entered the main audience hall, where a crowd of nobles gathered already.

    A steward stood near the door, flanked by two guardsmen. Her father led Kat toward him, introducing them both. The steward, clearly expecting their arrival, ushered them past the crowd.

    They waited for what felt like hours for Kat, though it was likely only half an hour, before the doors at the rear of the throne room opened and a herald stepped out.

    ¡°All rise! Presenting His Royal Majesty, Frederick Kingston, King of Rivenna, Defender of the Realm, Protector of the People, and Sovereign of the Lands. Bow before your King!¡±

    The room bowed, holding the gesture until the King entered and took his seat on the throne, ¡°You may rise.¡±

    Kat looked up at the man who held her husband¡¯s life in his hands.  Please do what is right, see that he is innocent,  she thought,  or I swear, he won¡¯t be the only one to die this day.

    The herald dropped his metal weighted staff onto the stone floor.

    thud, thud, thud.

    ¡°We are present this day, by royal decree, to hear a matter of grave consequence before the Throne and the Peerage. Earl Julian Ashford, of the House Valtieri, stands accused of high treason against the Crown. Let all who are summoned attend and let justice render in the name of the King!¡±

    The king raised his hand and called, ¡°Bring out the accused.¡±

    Kat¡¯s breath caught in her throat as guards escorted Julian before the King¡¯s throne. There were no visible bruises, but with his wrinkled clothes, unkempt hair, and unshaven face, he looked more like a commoner than an Earl.  Which is likely on purpose,  thought Kat.

    Julian¡¯s eyes darted around the room, careful not to linger too long anywhere but on the King. His gaze flickered over Kat, then quickly returned, emotions rushing through him¡ªhappiness at seeing her, mixed with fear and sadness for what lay ahead.

    The king rose, peering down at Julian from his throne. ¡°You stand accused of treason, Earl Ashford. What is your response?¡±

    Julian met the king¡¯s gaze, standing tall, ¡°I am innocent, Your Majesty. I have never, nor would I ever, have any reason to conspire against you or any member of the Royal Family.¡± His voice echoed through the hall¡ªrough, but resolute.

    ¡°Me or any member of my family? Interesting choice of words, given that plot we discovered was meant to kill exactly those people.¡± The king responded in a dry tone, ¡°How would you know that unless you were involved?¡±

    Taken aback, Julian glanced at his wife before refocusing on the king. ¡°I did not know that, Your Majesty, it was just a turn of phrase.¡±

    ¡°A turn of phrase¡­ a coincidence, we shall see. Now, let¡¯s move on to some more substantive evidence.¡± Turning to a side door, the king called, ¡°Bring in the witness.¡±

    A man was dragged into the chamber, arms and legs shackled. His face was bruised, dried blood crusting around a likely broken nose. The guards forced him to his knees before the king. The foul odor wafting from him made Julian¡¯s stomach churn as he stepped back.

    The king¡¯s share gaze flickered between the man and Julian, searching. After a moment, he asked, ¡°Do you know this man?¡±

    Julian took a closer look before backing away once more. ¡°I am sorry, your Majesty. I do not recognize this man.¡±

    ¡°You have never met this man before?¡± The king pressed.

    ¡°No sire, I do not believe I have ever seen his face before.¡±

    Turning his questions on the man, the king said, ¡°If you answer my questions truthfully, your life will be spared. Now, do you know who this man is?¡±

    The man peered at Julian through swollen eyes from where he sat, kneeling. ¡°Yes, your Majesty. I know him.¡±

    A murmur spread through the gathered crowd at his words.

    ¡°Who is this man and  how  do you know him?¡± Demanded the king.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The man coughed, spitting a wad of bloody phlegm. Disgusted, the king waved a court healer forward. "Not fully¡ªjust enough that we won''t have to witness that again." The healer approached and placed his hand on top of the man¡¯s head. A soft golden glow emitted from his palm and the crowd could visible see some of the tension leaving the man¡¯s body. Removing his hand, the healer bowed to the king, retreating without a word.

    ¡°Now, answer my question. What is this man¡¯s name and how do you know him?¡±

    ¡°That is Earl Ashford and I know him because he hired me and my outfit to assassinate the Royal Family.¡±

    The hall erupted in a roar, Julian¡¯s outcry the loudest at the false accusation against him.

    ¡°SILENCE!¡± ordered the king, using his Gift to project his voice. It reverberated throughout the room like a thunderclap. Even Julian, angry as he was, capitulated, surprised by the volume.

    Pointing at Julian, the king said, ¡°You will have your time to speak. But now, it is time for us all to listen. I will have the next person who interrupts flogged and denied a healer. Do I make myself clear?¡±

    Julian, Kat, and Edmund were forced to sit through a detailed explanation of the instructions given to the men on how to murder the royal family. The assassins planned to use the upcoming Name Day celebration for the youngest princess. They would sneak into the castle while everyone was in attendance. Once inside the royal wing of the palace, they would hide in each family members sleeping quarters, until sleep took them. Then they would strike.

    With dawning horror, the nobles in attendance realized that there had, in fact, been a plot to murder their king and his family. If undiscovered, it could very well have succeeded.

    Edmund put it together first. Whispering to himself, just loud enough Kat overheard, ¡°Ancestors¡­ he¡¯s being framed. The real traitors realized their plans were discovered and they are using Julian as a sacrifice.¡± His words confirmed her own suspicions. Kat suspected this would not go their way, and it was the reason she left Quentin with her mother.

    She placed a hand on her father¡¯s forearm. "Father, I need you to make me a promise."

    Edmund knew that tone of voice. It was the same one her mother used when she made a decision that he would disapprove of. It was rare to see, and all the more terrifying because of it. Observing his daughter, his stomach sank. ¡°No, my dear, you cannot.¡±

    A soft smile appeared as her lips twitched with intense emotions, ¡°No, father, I must. I need you to leave this room and take care of our son. Promise me that you will look after him, or I can¡¯t do what needs done.¡±

    A tear rolled down his face, his chest constricting as he nodded. ¡°I will take care of your boy. He will want for nothing.¡±

    Her smile broke, tears beginning to fall down her cheek, ¡°He will want of us, father. Tell him we love him, even in death. The only thing strong enough to keep us away.¡±

    The two embraced, and Count Edmund turned away. Keeping the first part of his promise, vowing to himself that he would never fail in the second.

    *****

    Julian stared in disbelief at the kneeling disgrace beside him.  I¡¯m being framed. This man will implicate me, and they will have created evidence to prove it.  His thoughts came fast and without comfort.

    Julian looked through the crowd, back to where he¡¯d seen Katherine. He found her, though Julian could see her father, Edmund, walking away.

    Their eyes met and he could tell she already knew.  She always was smarter than I.  They shared a long look before Julian¡¯s attention snapped back to the travesty performing in front of him.

    The man, who claimed his name was Peter Draven, finished his tale. Practically frothing at the mouth, the king asked his next question, ¡°A coup is never done by a single man alone. Who else was involved?¡±

    Draven spewed forth a litany of names¡ªsome familiar to Julian, most not.  Likely all innocent. I hope they receive better than this sham of a trial,  Julian thought.

    The questions dragged, interrupted briefly when evidence presented. A credit note, supposedly from Julian to a lender in a neighboring county, made out to Peter Draven for ¡°services rendered¡±. An incriminating letter allegedly written by Julian to an accomplice, referencing the upcoming Name Day celebration and the ¡±bright future¡± they sought.

    Julian stopped listening, his focus shifting to his wife¡¯s face. In her eyes, he saw all the memories of happiness they¡¯d shared; the joy created in their son. He would only have two regrets if sentenced to death. That he had not told his son he loved him one last time, and that the poor boy would likely be orphaned on the same day.

    The trial dragged on for hours until the king finally declared he''d heard enough. He cleared the room of all but the accused, the guards, and the nobles. Descending a step from his throne, he brought himself closer to eye level with Julian.

    With a sneer, the king asked, ¡°The evidence has been seen, the witnesses heard. Is there anything you would like to say in closing, Earl Ashford?¡±

    ¡°I am innocent, Your Highness,¡± answered Julian.  What more was there to say?

    King Frederick sniffed and turned to face the assembled nobles. ¡°You have all heard the same evidence I have. Is there any among you that believe the Earl¡¯s words and are willing to stand with him?¡±

    Countess Katherine Ashford rose and silently walked toward her husband, the heels of her boots clicking on the stone floor. She squeezed his hand briefly before letting go¡ªknowing she would need hers free. Her gaze swept the room, starring daggers, before they settled on the King, the man who would decide their fate.

    Silence reigned in the hall. No one dared speak as the king stared at the couple. He turned and returned to his throne. Taking his seat, he announced, ¡°While a touching statement, as his wife, your support holds no merit.¡±

    Scanning the room one last time before delivering his verdict, the king spoke. ¡°Earl Julian Ashford, on the charge of high treason in a plot to assassinate your king and the Royal Family, you are found guilty and sentenced to death.¡±

    The King¡¯s proclamation was met with cries for and against, but the ruling was made. Guards moved forward but stopped when Countess Katherine Ashford shifted into a fighting stance.

    ¡°What are you doing?! Vacate the area Countess, your husband is guilty,¡± cried the king.

    ¡°If you are already going to kill an innocent, what is one more?¡± Kat yelled, eyes trained on the soldiers before her.

    ¡°Do as your king commands, Countess. Stand down!¡± King Frederick ordered, rising from his throne. The watching nobles backed away from growing the confrontation.

    At her blatant disregard, the king demanded, ¡°Fine! Kill them both. Mages, assist the guards!¡±

    While not every noble was a mage, most of those in the room were Gifted. Ten stepped forward, though clearly divided in their desire to participate. One in particular, Countess Jemma Hightower, looked like she might be sick.

    Kat noticed her old friend, eyes narrowing, she called, ¡°Are you sure you want to do this Jemma? It has been a long time since the Academy. If you choose to fight, just know it¡¯s my love you are trying to kill.¡±

    There was a short internal battle within Jemma, but Kat recognized when she made her choice.  Then you will be the first to die.

    Julian watched from behind his wife, feeling helpless where he stood.  If she takes out a guard then maybe I can grab their weapon.  It was clear they would die here, but at least this way, it would be on their terms and together.

    Kat moved first. Julian watched her reach out a hand like she meant to grab something. A moment later, one of the guard¡¯s halberds was telekinetically ripping from their grasp. It fell like an executioners axe, fitting in this setting, to split open her former friend''s skull with a sickening crunch. The blade getting stuck when its lower edge struck the mage¡¯s collarbone.

    Julian sprinted forward. Grabbing hold of the bloody weapon, he put a foot into the dead woman¡¯s chest, kicking her back and jerking the polearm free with a wet sucking gurgle. Chaos erupted throughout the hall giving him an opportunity to charge back to protect his wife¡¯s rear. When he¡¯d nearly reached her, a fireball exploded at his feet. The blast set his pants ablaze and sent Julian flying through the air. Fortunately, years spent training under his father taught him how to fall. He landed in a roll, popping up to stand with his back pressed firmly against Kat¡¯s. His halberd held across his body in a defensive stance, ready for the next attack.

    Their rebellion was brief. One mage and a normal man, no matter how well trained, could not fight nine mages at the same time. A pair facing Julian teamed up, one sprayed water, soaking him to the bone, the other sucked the heat out of the water, turning it to ice. Julian fought to break its hold on him, but a third mage came forward, touched the ice and turned the entire sheet of ice into crystal. Behind him, Kat was also similarly subdued.

    The king watched from his seat, as though the fight was a spectacle performed just for him.

    ¡°You killed two mages in a fight against ten. I am genuinely impressed Lady Ashford.¡± The king said, a smirk written on his face and evident in his voice. ¡°It would be a waste for your life to end here. We can find you another husband and you can still serve the realm.¡±

    ¡°I would rather die,¡± she hissed before spitting in his direction.

    Putting truth to her words, she shared one last look with Julian, and let the flames she¡¯d been holding inside since the sentencing free. The intense heat melted everything within 5 feet of where she stood. Everything she wore, the ground beneath her feet, and the crystal encasing her husband, the flames hot enough to devour them both.

 B1C4 - Consequences

    Capital City of Gremelda

    Royal Palace Private Audience Chamber

    Queen Clarissa watched her husband pace the room. His frustration was evident in his every step. The king had chosen to keep her in the dark regarding the plot to assassinate their family, only revealing it when Earl Ashford was arrested. It was clear that he hadn¡¯t anticipated just how far-reaching the consequences of that decision would be.

    Clarissa did not have more than a passing familiarity with Earl Ashford, his father being their only connection. But she knew the Lord Marshal, and she had a hard time seeing his son being involved in treason.

    ¡°What were you thinking, Frederick? How could you have let this happen? The Lord Marshal is in the field right now, fighting to save  our  son¡ªand what will he return to? The news that you had his own killed.¡±

    Frederick ran his hands through his hair. ¡°He wasn¡¯t supposed to die today! I planned to send him back to the dungeon until his father returned, after declaring him guilty. He¡¯s the one who chose to fight¡ªhim and that cursed wife of his.¡±

    ¡°Yes, his cursed wife¡ªa countess in her own right. She also just happens to be the daughter of a former Councilmen, and Count to one of the fastest-growing counties in the kingdom.¡± Clarissa deadpanned.

    Continuing to pace, Frederick tried and failed to burn off his frustration. ¡°He attempted to have us all killed, Clarissa. An example had to be made.¡±

    Clarissa scoffed. ¡°Are you even sure he was guilty? It¡¯s been less than two weeks since his arrest. The Inquisition must have had every agent in the kingdom working on this to finish their investigation so quickly.¡± Biting sarcasm lacing her question.

    Frederick sank into a chair, burying his head in his hands. ¡°They are still investigating.¡±

    Clarissa sat quietly, letting him stew in the oppressive silence of his confession.

    ¡°What were our losses today, Frederick? An Earl, two countesses, and a Baron? Quite the butcher¡¯s bill for an uncertainty.¡±

    *****

    County Wycliffe

    Q stood on the veranda, watching for the return of his grandfather¡¯s carriage. He knew the trip to and from Gremelda took time, but after his mother¡¯s departure and a week of waiting, he had no more patience left to give.

    Soft hands took him by the shoulders. ¡°I know you are worried, I am to my dear. But waiting out here for hours on end will not bring them home any faster.¡± His grandmother kissed the top of his head and continued, ¡°Why don¡¯t you come help me in the garden? I planted your mother¡¯s favorite flowers. With a little care, and a bit of magic, we might just have them blooming for their return.¡±

    Q did not want to go to the garden, but when he turned to look at her, he could see the concern pinching his grandmother¡¯s lips. The worry lines marring her normally smooth brow. Nodding, he followed her into the house and out to her private garden. Taking a deep breath, the smell of flowers, pollen, and freshly turned earth enveloped him.

    The midnight veil was easy to spot. Reminiscent of a rose, its velvety petals were a deep, obsidian black that seemed to reflect the light around it. Running through each of the petals were delicate, shimmering veins of gold. The flower¡¯s scent was a heady blend of earth and spice. At night, the golden veins appear to glow faintly, giving the flower an ethereal, almost otherworldly appearance. At present, the buds were just starting to form. Deep green stems giving way to small buds of inky blackness.

    Grandmother knelt beside him. Her long graceful fingers cupping a bud and caressing the stem. She began to sing, a soft, delicate song. The words told a story about the early spring sun gifting its warmth to start the new year¡¯s growth.

    Q let himself relax for what felt like the first time in days. Listening to her voice as she used her Gift to summon water and to feed energy into the fragile roots. As he watched, new growth was formed, with the buds swelling in size and beauty.

    An unknown amount of time passed there in the garden, giving them a moment of peace before it was shattered by a maid bursting through the garden¡¯s door.

    ¡°My lady! The Count¡¯s carriage approaches.¡±

    Q leapt to his feet and took off through the house. Nadine stayed kneeling in the dirt. She could feel the shift of the winds and knew they brought with them ill tidings. Cutting off the flow of her gift, she watched as the midnight veil¡ªmoments from full bloom¡ªbegan to wither, its petals beginning to fall.Stolen novel; please report.

    The Countess took one last deep breath and slowly rose to her feet.

    *****

    Death was a private affair in the Kingdom of Rivenna. Usually kept to close friends and family.

    Not that it would have mattered after being branded traitors by the King. It would have been political suicide for anyone outside the family to attend the memorial for Q¡¯s parents.

    A few days later, a small service was held for Julian and Katherine Ashford. Only a trio of devastated parents and one orphaned boy in attendance. Henry, the boy''s grandfather, having returned from the north the night before¡ªwearied by the journey yet resolute to be there.

    Tradition held that lighting a floating lantern for the deceased would help guide their souls to the stars.

    Q carried two unlit lanterns across the field and up the hill behind the estate. When he reached the top, he cradled them against his chest, as if holding on too tightly would break their fragile construction. His grandfather, Ed, knelt beside him and gently asked, "Shall I light them?"

    Q nodded wordlessly, and with a flick of Ed¡¯s fingers, the lanterns ignited with a soft, flickering glow.

    Taking a deep breath, Q stepped forward. He raised a lantern in each hand high into the air. He released them slowly, letting them rest against his finger tips until at first one, and then the other began to lift away. The small bit of light and warmth they provided, leaving him as cold and empty on the outside as he currently felt inside.

    He remained standing there¡ªin the dark, his arms raised high over head for a long time as he watched the lights ascended into the night sky. When he finally lowered his hands and spoke, his voice high with the pitch of youth, broke. ¡°Why did they have to die?¡±

    The trio behind him remained silent and no one answered for nearly a minute. Each of them considering the question in their own right, and trying to figure out the best way to answer the boy.

    Finally, Henry replied, ¡°Because, son, even Kings make mistakes. But rest assured, I will find out how this happened.¡±

    The boy watched the twin lanterns spin in the wind, calling forth the recent memory of dancing in the rain as his mother spun him through the random wheat field.

    Clenching his fists and clamping down on the memory, Q couldn¡¯t resist the thought,  Then maybe he doesn¡¯t deserve to be King,

    Even in the privacy of his own mind, the thought felt wrong. Q knew it was not a sentiment his father would approve of, let alone his mother. But anger was something other than the feeling of pain he¡¯d been carrying around since his grandfather¡¯s carriage returned, and he welcomed the change.

    *****

    Capital City of Gremelda

    Royal Palace Council Chambers

    A tension hung in the air as the council gathered for today¡¯s meeting. This being the first since the Lord Marshal returned from saving the prince.

    After arriving at the capital and learning of his son¡¯s death, Henry immediately departed for County Wycliffe to attend the vigil for his son and daughter-in-law. He left the next day, returning to his men in the north and completing his mission to return them home. It was an act of deference on his part, giving him additional time away from the palace and the man who¡¯d ordered his son¡¯s death.

    Being there now stoked the fire in his core, which had been burning since he¡¯d learned of his son¡¯s arrest. The notion that anyone in his family could be guilty of treason was absurd. Arriving in the city only to discover he was too late had been devastating.

    Upon learning the whole story, including Katherine¡¯s death, his thoughts immediately turned to Quentin.  He is my responsibility now.  Thinking of his son, he mentally added to his promise , I¡¯ll do better, Julian. And stars save anyone who means to do him harm.

    As the minutes ticked by and the king still did not appear, Henry drummed his fingers on the table, an unusual display of impatience for the normally stoic marshal.

    Henry was unsurprised when a servant entered the room and hurried over the Duke Alistair. Knowing what the servant¡¯s presence meant, it brought a smirk to Henry¡¯s lips seeing the man. He rose from the table before the servant could leave.

    O no, you don¡¯t get to miss this. I want you to hear this, and to spread it around the castle gossip mill.  Slowly, Henry reached up and   removed the brooch that designated him as the Lord Marshal from his chest. He placed it down on the table with a  thump.

    As he turned to leave, the Duke called, ¡°What are you doing, Lord Marshal? We need to discuss this sickness rampaging through the kingdom. Mages are dying and our healers are unable to combat it. We are more vulnerable than ever, and Alden could attack us at any moment.¡±

    Without turning, Marquess Henry Ashford replied, ¡°I¡¯m not a mage, and should refrain from their affairs, as has been pointed out repeatedly in this very room, time and time again. If the king chooses to attend the next meeting, please inform him that he will need to find a new Lord Marshal. Whomever the king chooses sounds like they are going to have their hands full.¡± With those parting words, he continued walking and did not stop until he mounted his horse and was miles away from the capital city of Gremelda.

 B1C5 - The Aftermath

    County Wycliffe

    The gate guards waved Henry into Count Edmund¡¯s estate. He had been in the County several times over the years as he had to pass through it to reach Gremelda from his own lands in the Western Marshes.

    It was on one of those trips that his son Julian first met Katherine. That thought brought with it a stab of pain, their recent deaths still affecting him like a physical ailment. Pushing the memory aside the best he could. Henry focused on the here and now, on the grandson he could see waiting for him near the house¡¯s front door.

    A footman rushed forward to take the reins while Henry dismounted his horse. He ran his hand down the horse¡¯s side affectionately. A moment later, Q joined him, and looked to his grandfather for permission before touching the beast. He kept to its side, cautious around its large steel-shod hooves as he pat the horse¡¯s flank.

    A stable boy ran around the side of the horse and waited until Henry addressed him. ¡°Take care of him. He¡¯s a fine horse and deserves a fresh apple and some oats,¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± the boy said. Taking the reins from the footman and leading the beast toward the stables.

    Reaching over, Henry gave Q¡¯s shoulder a squeeze. ¡°Were you waiting for me? Or were you heading off into trouble?¡±

    Q had become withdrawn emotionally and more reticent since their evening vigil a month prior. It was to be expected, but that didn¡¯t mean his family wouldn¡¯t try to draw out the free-spirited boy they were so used to seeing.

    ¡°I needed a break. Grandfather decided it was time to teach me the art of business for when I inherit¡­ but I¡¯m having a hard time following his lectures.¡±

    Yea,  Henry thought,  I guess the boy will inherit all of this much sooner than he should have. My lands as well.

    A question from Q jerked Henry from his musings. ¡°Grandfather, if I do not have the aptitude for business, would you teach me to fight?¡±

    Henry snorted and dropped down to eye level, getting a better look at his grandson¡¯s face. The boy¡¯s eyes were red from either crying or exhaustion. His face was drawn, and his cheekbones were far more pronounced than they had been two weeks prior.  He¡¯s probably not eating or sleeping much anymore .

    ¡°To start. You¡¯re learning from one of the best businessmen in the kingdom. Don¡¯t doubt your intelligence if you struggle to understand everything he has to teach you at this stage. You¡¯re only twelve years years old, Q. Give it time. But fighting¡­ are you sure you want to learn what it means to wage war? It is not forgiving in its lessons or easy to leave behind once you start down that road.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure. Will you teach me to fight like you and Father?¡±

    Henry signed, ¡°Knowing how to fight didn¡¯t save your father, son.¡±

    The boy stared at his feet for a long moment, and a small shudder passed through his slight frame. When Q looked up and met his gaze, Henry could see the fire smoldering behind his hazel eyes. Like the leftover coals from last night¡¯s fire, just before being stoked to life. ¡°But he died protecting my mother. I think¡­ I think if I had to die¡­ I would be OK if I did it protecting someone I love.¡±

    Henry¡¯s throat constricted, squeezing hard on the knot caught within. He knew that if he had been present during his son¡¯s trial, that he would have fought. Fought and died, most likely, but knew all too well what Q was saying. ¡°Aye¡ªIt would be hard for me to argue with that, son.¡± Clearing his throat, Henry decided to change the subject, ¡°So, what will you do as a master of war and business? Will you follow in my footsteps as Lord Marshal some day?¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Henry watched as a series of strong expressions played across his grandson¡¯s face, forming into an expression he¡¯d never seen before. ¡°No, Grandfather. I will protect those that I love. But the rest of the realm can take care of itself.¡±

    The pain and anger behind the words sent another stab of loss through Henry. With a shock, he realized that by stepping down as the Lord Marshal, he was effectively choosing to do the same thing. Leaving the realm to prosper or burn on its own.  Two peas in a pod, the two of us are.

    With nothing left to say , they made their way into the house. They found Count Edmund in his study. Ed looked up from the stack of papers on his desk. Rising to his feet, he reached out to trade grips with his old friend. ¡°Come, come, take a seat. I let him out for a break and he comes back with guests.¡± Ed said with a laugh, gesturing to a pair of leather-backed armchairs set before the empty fireplace.

    Q stood awkwardly just inside the room. Ed noticed his grandson¡¯s discomfort and waved at the desk he¡¯d had made for Q¡¯s studies. ¡°Sit down, son. It¡¯s not like you wouldn¡¯t have listened from the hall, now is it?¡± Q blushed slightly, but rushed to his seat before either man changed their mind.

    ¡°You¡¯re back earlier than we expected. Did you meet with the king?¡± Ed asked as he took his seat.

    Henry barked out a laugh. ¡°No, the coward wouldn¡¯t even face me. He sent a servant in his place to tell the council he wouldn¡¯t be attending. I left the Lord Marshal''s brooch sitting on the table and left the message that he would need to find a new fool to clean up his mess the next time he wanted to make trouble.¡±

    Settling deeper into the chair, Henry looked askance at Ed, expecting the next piece of news to pique his interest, ¡°Duke Windbag tried to get me to stay for the meeting anyway, they planned to discuss the sickness and how our healers are powerless to fight it.¡±

    Ed¡¯s eyes lit and he proceeded to ask several technical questions that Henry was unable to answer. ¡°It always irked me when they told to stay out of mage matters,¡± said Henry. ¡°In this, I must admit my ignorance. What makes this sickness different from a normal cough? Why can¡¯t it be healed?¡±

    Ed sat back, his brow furrowed in thought. ¡°I have traded letters with several old acquaintances from the Council. As you can imagine, studying this disease is their highest priority right now. And I do believe that it is a  disease,  not an ordinary sickness. They have plenty of theories, but no solid evidence to substantiate them.¡± Ed paused, his eyebrows coming together in a thoughtful frown. ¡°Actually, you may be able to shed light on a few of my own suspicions.¡±

    His statement was met with a raised eyebrow. So, he elaborated.

    ¡°The first reported cases were all within the expedition that went north with the prince. It started to spread when the mages and nobles returned to the Gremelda, and then the disease spread throughout the realm when they continued on to their own lands. We know that much, but you were able to see it firsthand. What can you remember?¡±

    Henry thought back to the weeks preceding his sprint back to the capital. The first time he could remember anyone being sick was when his path crossed with the prince while he fled south in defeat. ¡°That fits with what I saw passing through the prince¡¯s escort. I even asked a man if he was unwell. He said it was just a cold, and that sort of thing happens regularly in an army camp. It wasn¡¯t until the health of some of our Core mages deteriorated that it was brought back to my attention.¡±

    Ed sat forward and nodded in agreement. ¡°Exactly, now tell me if I¡¯m mad or if this makes sense to you. A new disease, never before seen in Rivenna. Is contracted by the first expedition we¡¯ve sent into Alden in nearly 200 years.¡±

    Henry frowned and smoothed down his graying mustache absentmindedly.

    ¡°Now, this is where you will have to bear with me. What if¡ªwhat if, in those 200 hundred years, Alden discovered this disease and figured out a way to weaponise it against us, specifically against our mages?¡±

    Henry¡¯s hand froze and his eyes narrowed as he mentally reviewed the after-action reports he¡¯d received on the trip south. Mumbling to himself as he thought, ¡°Stars falling from the sky¡­ the night raid. Whatever it was they did¡­ They managed it during the night raid. Stars above, they may have been targeting the prince directly. Chance and luck are the only reasons that fool didn¡¯t catch the sickness himself. ¡± Whipping his head up, he met Ed¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Do you understand what this would mean for the kingdom if what you suspect is true?¡±

    Ed¡¯s gaze turned to Q where he sat watching the two men, confusion and concern marring his brow.

    ¡°Yes, my friend, I do. I am only able to sleep at night thanks to one question. If the Aldenians have had access to this weapon, why have they not used it before now?¡±

    Ed let Henry work his way through logic behind his question. It didn¡¯t take long, and the slight loosening of the tension in his shoulders was apparent. ¡°It¡¯s likely because they couldn¡¯t. It must be something they could only use once.¡±

 B1C6 - Training Begins

    County Wycliffe

    Q watched from the second story window as Henry directed the estate¡¯s staff while they unloaded several wagon loads of wooden crates . Nearly a month had passed since his grandfather¡¯s return from the Gremelda and he had taken Q¡¯s request to learn to fight seriously. Q wasn¡¯t sure what his grandfather was working on now, but he knew it was for him.

    As the only child of a noble family, Q had not been exposed to the harsh realities and hardships of life. Though the last few months shattered all of the childhood optimism he had been raised with. Torn from him, just like his parents had been at the whim of another. Q¡¯s introduction to the dynamics of power within the kingdom was not a lesson he¡¯d ever be able to forget.

    A tear rolled down Q¡¯s face as he looked out across the grounds. It was going to be a warm day, likely one of the last of the season. Soon enough the leaves would start to turn, and the air would gain that crispness only experienced in the Fall. It was also his mother¡¯s favorite time of year. When she could pull out her scarves and enjoy a warm beverage without Q¡¯s father making a joke.

    Stop it. They are gone and remembering them like this will only make you weak.  Q thought, his vision blurring and his hands turning to fists.  I need to be strong, for Grandfather Henry, Ed, and Grandmother. For the people on my father¡¯s lands, and for everyone else I may have to look after.

    The boy¡¯s thoughts were interrupted when his grandfather found him.¡°Q? Are you ready to get started? The livestock reports are in for this quarter and I wanted to get you started on them before I go help Henry with something.¡±

    Q spent the next two hours reviewing dry reports, detailing the estimated weight gain of cattle within the county. Ed was having him compare this year¡¯s numbers to the previous year¡¯s results to look for changes, trends, and inconsistencies. It had become a common exercise, one that Q was forced to complete across numerous industries, from crop yields in wheat, barley, and oats to wool production for textiles. It was overwhelming, trying to understand it all. Only made more difficult when Ed asked him questions about what it all meant. There was a lot that Q was still trying to come to grips with.

    Dropping his head onto his desk with a thud, Q lost himself in thought.  I understand why a drought two counties over would make grandfather want to increase the amount of grain planted come spring. But what does that have to do with selling off more heads of cattle in the fall?

    A commotion from outside caused Q to look up from his toil. Rising from his seat, Q made his way to the window and pushed back the drape. Below, he could see several people working in the field behind the house, his grandparents among them. Bitting his lip, he looked down at the unfinished report. Q knew he should stay and complete it, but he also knew that there was no way he¡¯d be able to focus with all the activity going on outside the office window.

    Decision made, Q walked out of the office and made his way down to the ground floor. It struck Q then, just how long it had been since he¡¯d left the house. He hadn¡¯t intentionally stopped going outside.  I¡¯ve just had no reason to do so,  he thought.   The urge to go out and play had become all but non-existent. Shutting the door behind him, he walked across the field to where he could see his grandmother, Nadine, raise a hand. Q watched as a large mound of earth rose up well over her head.

    One of his grandparents must have seen him, because they turned to look at him as he approached. With a grin spreading across Henry¡¯s face he started in Q¡¯s direction.

    His curiosity getting the better of him, Q couldn¡¯t resist asking, ¡°What is that?¡±

    ¡°That, my dear boy,¡± Henry said as he ruffled Q¡¯s head. It was such a familiar gesture that for a brief moment, Q could image it was his father¡¯s hand he felt. Reality caused a lump to form in his throat as he focused on his grandfather¡¯s words. ¡°Is will be an earthen berm, six feet tall to start. It will have to be raised as you grow, but this will do for now.¡±

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Q¡¯s raised an eyebrow, ¡°And what exactly am I going to do with an earthen berm, grandfather?¡±

    Henry let out a laugh, ¡°Well, this one you¡¯re going to climb!¡± Taking a step back, he spread his arms to encompass the entire portion of the field being worked. ¡°Welcome to the obstacle course. You said you wanted to learn to fight, and this is one of the best ways I know of to train you for it.¡±

    ¡°Uhh. Don¡¯t I need a weapon to learn to fight?¡± Q asked, his brows drawn in confusion.

    ¡°That will come soon enough, don¡¯t you worry. I¡¯ve already sent out letters to hire several master-at-arms that I have worked with throughout my career. These are men I actually trust to train you correctly,¡± Henry said as he guided Q towards Ed and Nadine.

    The latter turned in a whirl of skirts, and started brandishing her finger at Q, not dissimilar to when he¡¯d done something wrong as a small child. ¡°If you fall off one of these and break something, I will  not  be happy, do you understand me?¡±

    Looking back and forth between his grandfathers, Q could only nod his head rapidly in agreement, ¡°I¡¯ll try not to, I promise.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± she said with a huff, turning back to Henry and Ed she said, ¡°Six feet tall, as requested. I transmuted the core and the very top to stone but left the outside non-compacted earth. It will need to be maintained, but that is something even you can do, husband.¡±

    ¡°The stars sent you as a gift, my dear. Though, they could have left off a few of the thorns¡ª¡± Ed¡¯s mumble was cut off when he dashed behind Q, grabbing the boy¡¯s shoulders, and using him as a shield from the blast of water his wife cast at him in retribution.

    Their unexpected actions caught Q off guard, drawing out what, to Henry, was the boy¡¯s first genuine laugh since his parents died. It was a moment Henry would look back on and cherish¡ªthe moment a small piece of the ice around Q''s heart started breaking away.

    Twenty minutes later, Q sprinted forward onto a raised platform. It was a foot taller than the surrounding dirt and too narrow to walk on comfortably without loosing his balance. Turning to the side, Q shuffled his way down beams length.

    Smack!

    A mud ball collided with Q¡¯s shoulder, spinning him around and knocking him off and into the dirt. The breath was knocked from his lungs when he landed, and his lungs refused to draw air for a few seconds. He rolled to his side and looked over the top of the beam to where his grandfather stood, tossing another mud ball high into the air.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that. This is just practice until your instructors get here. They¡¯ve all done this in combat, and it wasn¡¯t mud balls being shot at them. Now get up and do it again!¡± Ordered Henry.

    Q had been excited to test out the course when he¡¯d first seen it. Throughout the morning, his eagerness quickly diminished and eventually turned into a nightmare. As he completed the course, he was more physically exhausted than he could ever remember being. He was soaking wet, bruised, scraped, and bleeding. In that moment as practically fell across the course''s end, his dream of being a soldier didn¡¯t look nearly as bright as hit had been.

    ¡°Could you have finished that as a child?¡± Asked Ed from where they watched Q cross the finish line.

    ¡°Maybe physically, but would I have had the drive to? Not a chance,¡± Henry admitted, a touch of pride in his voice. The obstacle course he¡¯d built was one new recruits in the army would struggled with, had it been scaled to their size. To have even completed it at the age of 12 was indicative of great potential.

    Ed exhaled deeply, ¡°Physically gifted and just as smart as his mother. I remember the way she¡¯d pick up on the lessons as I taught. He is much the same.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the best of us all. We can make sure of that, my friend,¡± Henry said just as Q reached them.

    He sat down in the grass, exhausted. Ed walked over to him and placed his hand on the boys head. A soft golden glow emitted from where they touched, ¡°Now that you¡¯re all healed up, and you¡¯re hopefully done playing in the mud. Go get cleaned up, we still have lessons for today, and I know you didn¡¯t have enough time to finish that livestock report I gave you earlier. ¡±

    Q flopped onto his back. Unable to restrain a groan as he threw his arm over his eyes.

 B1C7 - A Royal Decree

    Capital City of Gremelda

    Royal Palace Council Chambers

    ¡°The sickness appears to have run its course. We haven¡¯t seen a fresh case within Gremelda in over three weeks, your Majesty.¡± Duke Alistair said, as he flipped over the final page of the document before him.

    The room exhaled a collective breath, the relief palpable, if short-lived. A tense silence remained among the council. They knew that this reprieve was but a fleeting comfort.

    ¡°Stars blaze upon us that it remains the case,¡± muttered Earl Hugo Valmont. ¡°Between that disaster up north and the sickness, we¡¯ve lost a dangerous portion of influential nobles.¡± His voice carried with it the strain of several long and difficult weeks.

    Archmage Highbridge let out a scoff, arguing, ¡°That they were all mages should be more important. We¡¯ve lost nearly thirty percent of our gifted population in less than a year.¡±

    The number of deaths had been whispered in the dark corners of the palace and throughout Gremelda. But having the harsh truth cast out of the shadows and into the light, the reality of their losses was staggering.

    Countess Isla¡¯s voice was quiet, her throat squeezing the words as they left her mouth. ¡°We will have to hide this from the public. If our neighbors catch wind of this, they¡¯ll come for us, and we¡¯ll be too weak to stop them.¡±

    Before the conversation could spiral into political maneuvering, the Archmage brought the attention back to herself with a snap of her fingers, the sound echoing around the room by her Gift. ¡°That is the least of our concerns,¡± she said, her tone severe. ¡°We know this was no ordinary sickness, not with how our healers have struggled to contain it. But the Office of Inquisition has investigated, and were able to trace the source of the disease back to Alden and the failed campaign. This wasn¡¯t just a coincidence¡ªit was an attack, a planned use of a weapon we¡¯ve never seen.¡±

    The king, who had been sitting hunched and silent, lifted his head. His dark eyes narrowed. ¡°A weapon? How?¡±

    Countess Isla took up the explanation, her voice coming out steadily this time, but still grave. ¡°The Aldenians lured us into a trap, Your Majesty. The mine we were after, the one reportedly filled with manadrite... it was a ruse. There was no mine. They used it to draw our army and, more importantly, our mages north.¡±

    The air in the room quickly became suffocating as heat radiated off of the king. His control slipping and some of his Gift leaking out.

    ¡°A trap?¡± he growled.

    The Archmage nodded. ¡°Yes, Your Majesty. The sickness began there, spreading through our ranks¡ªand it specifically targeted the Gifted.¡±

    Looks of utter despair crossed the faces of the other council members as they processed the enormity of what she had just said.

    Breaking decorum, the king rose from his seat and poured himself a large glass of wine. Tossing it back, he asked, ¡°How is this possible?¡±

    ¡°We do not know, Your Highness, but a letter from our former Lord Marshal was put to our best strategic minds and we believe that the Aldenian¡¯s are limited in their use of this sickness, or disease. He believes that this is a form of attack we shouldn¡¯t fear being brought to our own lands. It is likely a limited resource or possibly even something that could only be used once. It is the logical explanation for why the Aldenians have never used it before.¡± Explained Countess Isla.

    Frustrated at the mention of the Lord Marshal, the king mumbled to himself and began pacing, his words too low to hear.

    A few moments later, he raised his voice and asked, ¡°Have we seen any movement from the Aldenians since they ran us out of their forests?¡±

    ¡°No, Your Highness. It is our understanding that they are watching and waiting to see how much damage their attack will do.¡± Answered Countess Isla.

    Seeing that the king¡¯s focus was shifting, the Archmage cleared her throat. ¡°We have a larger if longer-term problem that we still need to discuss.¡±

    The king, stopped in mid-step whirling on the woman with a sneer, ¡°What could possibly be more important than losing a third of our Gifted and our enemies having a weapon that can kill off what¡¯s left of our kingdom¡¯s greatest assets?¡±

    ¡°The loss of them  all , your Majesty.¡± Her tone of absolute seriousness sliced through the room like a knife.

    The king blinked, taken aback. His sneer fading as the weight of her words settled in. ¡°Explain,¡± he croaked.

    Sweeping her gaze across the council, the Archmage sighed. ¡°We¡¯ve always struggled maintaining our mage population. The Gift is rarer in men than women, and so we¡¯ve made every effort to secure our magical bloodlines. That¡¯s why we try to ensure that mages marry mages whenever possible.¡±

    the king waved his hand impatiently, ¡°I know that, we all know that, but why is that a problem now?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s our losses. It¡¯s not just the number, but  who  it was that we lost, Your Highness. Between the campaign to Alden and the disease, we¡¯ve lost over 50% of our male gifted. If this continues, Rivenna¡¯s magical bloodlines will die out.¡± Her admission was met with complete and utter silence as each member exchanged a glance with those around them. Desperately hoping this revelation to be some kind of sick joke.

    When no laugh was forthcoming, the king fell into his seat, his head cradled in his hands in defeat. ¡°What do you recommend we do?¡±

    *****

    County Wycliffe

    One Year Later

    ¡°Good! Good!¡± Garrick called, motioning to a nearby guard to grab a practice weapon and join in. ¡°Now it¡¯s two on one, boy. What should you do?¡± Demanded the master-at-arms.

    ¡°Run until I find two more on my side¡ªsir!¡± Q yelled in answer, earning a laugh from the surrounding spectators. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    With a laugh of his own, Garrick inched closer. ¡°That¡¯d work, but you don¡¯t have anyone else here. It¡¯s just you. Now, what are you going to do?¡±

    Two vs. one, no way to escape¡­ both are using a sword and shield,  Q thought.  Not good.  Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Q considered what options he had available to him. There was really only one that he could see having a chance.

    Charging forward, Q pivoted to the side, placing the guard between Garrick and himself. Q lunged and made his shorter stature work for him with a strike to the man¡¯s exposed legs. The guard yelped and hopped back. But Q never halted his advance, continuing to push forward. He used his momentum to drive his shield into the guard¡¯s, knocking him back a step and further off balance. The man stumbled back, but secured his footing.

    WHAM!

    Q was sent flying as Garrick¡¯s shield collided with his now exposed side. Landing with an awkward roll, Q managed to get to his feet. He was going to be too late, the practice armor he wore weighed just enough to slow him how, but he made the effort anyway. He spun around, ready for the next attack.

    It never came.

    Garrick, standing several feet away, applauded by beating his sword against his shield. ¡°Well done, Q. A two on one fight is never a good position to be in. You analyzed the situation, made a decision, and acted. In a real fight, that could have saved your life. Unfortunately for you¡­¡± The man stopped, pausing for dramatic effect, ¡°I am simply too good for you!¡± He said with a laugh. ¡°Now, go get cleaned up. We¡¯re done for the day.¡±

    Q nodded his understanding and turned to approach the guard, thanking him for his efforts, and ensuring sure he was OK after taking Q¡¯s strike. With the guards'' reassurance, he exited the practice field and made his way inside the house.

    Ed, Henry, and Nadine looked down from the second story terrace where they¡¯d been watching their grandson train.

    ¡°He really is getting quite good,¡± Nadine observed.

    Henry nodded in agreement. ¡°With those instincts and a few more years of training, he is going to be a dangerous man to fight.¡±

    Their musings were cut short by Ed¡¯s uncharacteristic shout.

    ¡°Are they out of their star-falling  minds? !¡±

    Startled, Henry and Nadine turned in their chairs to face Ed. Henry¡¯s mouth was drawn tight and a deep furrow settled between his brows. She was likewise worried, her eyes flitting back and forth between her husband and the open letter grasped tightly in his hands.

    ¡°Dear?¡± Nadine questioned.

    Holding out the paper to his wife, Ed explained, ¡°The Archmage and the Mages Council have lost all sense.¡± Pausing to take a drink from the tea laid before him, he continued. ¡°To start, they requested I return as a Councilman. They¡¯ve lost two and would prefer to refill those same positions with men.¡±

    Henry raised a brow. ¡°You said to start. Is that not bad enough already?¡±

    Scoffing, Ed raised an eyebrow of his own in return, ¡°Like you haven¡¯t received a request to take back up the mantel of Lord Marshal? They still haven¡¯t been able to keep it filled.¡±

    ¡°Of course I have requests from the King¡¯s Council, but I have received nothing from the King. I am justified in my right to tell each and every one of them to fuck off.¡± Realizing his lapse in decorum, he turned to Nadine to apologize, but the words died in his throat at what he saw. She had lost all color and looked on the verge of fainting.

    ¡°Countess? Are you well?¡±

    Nadine¡¯s hands began to shake as she looked up from the letter, ¡°Edmund..?¡±

    ¡°No, my love, I would not sully our marriage in such a fashion. Star blasted Mages Council or not.¡±

    ¡°What, by starry night, are you two talking about?¡± Asked Henry, the furrow somehow managing to create more lines across his forehead.

    ¡°Here, read it for yourself.¡± Reaching over to his wife, he held out his hand for the paper. He passed it to Henry. ¡°In addition to the letter requesting my return to the Council, we received a Royal Edict from His Majesty instituting new laws to govern Rivennan mages.¡±

    Royal Edict of His Majesty King Frederick the Grand

    To all loyal subjects of the realm,

    Be it known and declared throughout the kingdom, that in the interest of peace, prosperity, and the future of magic in our realm, and by the power and authority vested in us by the ancient laws of our forefathers, the following decree is herby enacted and shall be observed by all subjects, under penalty of law:

    1.) On the Regulation of Marriage:

    In order to ensure the continued prosperity and stability of our kingdom, we hereby decree that all gifted males of the realm shall wed no less than three gifted females by their twenty-fifth name day. As an alternative.

    2.) On the Birthing of the Next Generation:

    The mage population of the Kingdom is a vital resource in protecting the people of the realm. To ensure its continued growth, each husband and wife pairing in accordance with the preceding edict shall be responsible for birthing two children for a total of six children per male gifted.

    3.) On the Strengthening of the Mage Core:

    To augment the above edicts, any citizen of the realm that can prove the conception of a male gifted¡¯s child, will be given compensation to ensure the health and well-being of said child.

    This edict shall take effect immediately upon its proclamation in every town and city throughout the realm.

    Given under our hand and seal of the Royal Court in Gremelda, this first day of Lyra, in the year of 1352.

    By His Majesty''s Command,

    Frederick, King of Rivenna

    Witnessed by:

    Duke Alistair Wyndham, Minister of the Interior

    Lady Elowen Highbridge, Archmage

    Earl Hugo Valemont, Peerage Speaker

    Looking up from the edict, Henry stared at the two with mouth agape. Never in his life had he been so flabbergasted.

    ¡°That,¡± said Ed, ¡°Is desperation in written form if I¡¯ve ever read it. Things must be truly horrendous for them to consider actions like those.¡±

    ¡°Considering!¡± Cried Nadine, ¡°Edmund, they are far past considering. They¡¯ve already done it, signed and approved by the King.¡±

    Ed climbed out of his seat and knelt at his wife¡¯s side. ¡°I will say it once more, my dear. I will not take another wife, let alone two. If things are this dire, what are they going to do, kill me?¡±

 B1C8 - Magic Unleashed

    Marches of Westlund

    Western Plains

    One Year Later

    Q reached down, absentmindedly patting the young gelding named Orion. It hadn¡¯t taken long riding across the great open fields of the Western Plains for Q to realize that he¡¯d inherited his grandfather¡¯s love of horses. It made him feel small in a way that he¡¯d never experienced. There was something about being able to ride for miles without seeing a discernible difference between where you¡¯ve been and where you are going. It had a way of grounding the young man.

    He was currently doing a ride-along with a contingent of the Marquess¡¯ men, 20 in total, on a patrol of the border. His current instructor, a retired calvary officer by the name of Credence Rodgers, was with him in addition to his personal guard, three men hand picked from the Marquess¡¯s own guard and headed by Garrick. Whom had requested to stay on after his initial training contract ended.

    The need for a guard surprised Q when he was first informed. His request to know why he was training if he needed someone else to protect him had not go over well. A slap to the back of the head shut him up and made him take the appointment seriously. With the changes outlined in what had become know as the ¡°horny mages edict¡±, a lot had changed in a short amount of time. It hadn¡¯t taken long before people realized the realm was in trouble, and fear had brought out the worst in them.

    Q was listening to Credence as he detailed why a specific cavalry charge had failed due to the unit¡¯s composition when they heard it. A Drakovian horn.

    Swearing, the sergeant stood in his stirrups, squinting as he peered across the plains. Checking the angle of the sun, he shook his head. Turning to the men behind him, he shouted, ¡°Small raiding party ahead of us, 30-40 strong. Go! Move it!¡±

    The next several hours were an odd mix of fear, anticipation, frayed nerves, and the odd desire for something to happen. Q stayed quiet, listening to the men around him as they cantered, slowed to a trot, and then cantered again. He¡¯d picked up on details of the pursuit and what to expect. Their detachment was hauling ass to the closest army outpost. Unfortunately, they¡¯d never make it there in time. They were pushing their horses hard while the Drakovians had a string of remounts available to them. At one point, the sergeant had dropped back and suggested that Q¡¯s party may want to break off from the patrol and ride ahead. The Marquess¡¯s men would ensure Q made it out safely.

    The stoney silence his suggestion received was one part awkward, and two parts relieved for the extra manpower.

    An hour later and their horses were nearly blown. Credence leaned over and whispered to Q, ¡°He¡¯s about to call it. He¡¯ll slow the horses down so they can catch their breath, and turn us around for a final charge.¡±

    It was a frustrating point that the Rivennan Army struggled to overcome the mobility of mounted Drakovians. Their horses were bred for long endurance riding, and the Drakovians'' way of fighting lent itself to their near constant movement. Able to shoot from the saddle, they kept their enemies at a distance while being charged. Should they decide to close the distance, they could switch to their curved sabers and small shields. Their ability to ride with just their legs meant you were fighting them at a disadvantage if you were forced to hold your reins and only had one arm truly free to fight.

    Proving Credence¡¯s earlier statement was almost correct. The sergeant pointed from up ahead into the distance and yelled, his voice carrying to the men behind him. ¡°We aren¡¯t going to make Edgemont! We¡¯re stopping at the next stand of cover. The trees will shield us from their arrows, and we stand a better chance of survival if we can get them off their horses and on foot.¡±

    Putting action to orders, the patrol altered course, now aiming toward a green dot, just visible in the distance. The sergeant still had them slow their pace, which confused Q.  If we aren¡¯t going to make a charge, why rest the horses?  Turning towards Credence beside him, Q shouted his question.

    ¡°So they are fresh after the battle or if an opportunity to escape comes up, a man can take it.¡±

    Garrick must have heard them because he turned and called , ¡°My lord, when we get off the horses, I want you to go in to cover immediately. Find the best spot to block an arrow and hunker down.¡± His horse shifted out of line around an unseen obstacle. Forcing him to bring it back into formation before continuing, ¡°We will join you once the horses are secured.¡±

    Q bristled at the idea of hiding, but Garrick¡¯s next words calmed him down. ¡°There is nothing brave about making yourself an easy target. Dead is dead, my lord. You are smaller and can fit into places the rest of us cannot. Don¡¯t worry, you will have every opportunity to fight once they¡¯ve dismounted and are on foot.¡± The last was said with a wince, as if the thought of it brought him physical pain.

    When the patrol reached the stand of trees, Q discovered that it was actually a large pond blocked by the tree trunks surrounding it. The sergeant was sure to stop the horses from drinking directly from the pond. If left to their own devices, they ran the risk of drinking too much, too quickly, and making themselves sick. Instead, the men watered the horses from their water skins, refilling them as necessary.

    They had ten to fifteen minutes before the enemy was likely to arrive. Following Garrick¡¯s directions, Q searched through the trees for somewhere only he would fit. His eyes locked on where a tree had fallen, and its crown had tangled with the one next to it, keeping it suspended. Its angle created a pocket where the roots were exposed, leaving a void beneath. Q crawled in, and the hard roots dug into his side, right where his armor left him unprotected.

    A few moments later, Garrick found him and nodded his approval. ¡°We will be nearby. I will call out when they approach. Whatever happens¡­ it has been an honor, my lord.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    His declaration descending on Q like a hawk swooping in on its prey.  This is real. We could all die here.

    He wasn¡¯t sure exactly how long they waited. The Drakovian horn calls the only way he could tell the passage of time. Each one closer than the last. Finally, they stopped altogether and silence reigned. Q held his breath while waiting for the next, but it never came. A false sense of calm filled the air, his roiling stomach and anxiety the only disturbance.

    ¡°Take cover!¡±

    Thunk!

    Thunk, thunk, thunk!

    The sounds of arrows impacting heavy wood echoed amongst the trees, as did the screams of the unlucky. The barrage lasted for several minutes, stopping only when no more screams rang out.

    From nearby, he heard Garrick¡¯s voice, ¡°Prepare yourself, my Lord. They will dismount now.¡±

    The plan outlined by the sergeant was to weather the enemy¡¯s arrows until they decided firing more would be a waste. Then they would wait until the Dakovians dismounted their horses. If the sergeant believed there was an opportunity to strike while they formed up, he would call the men to charge.

    Q gripped his sword and buckler tightly as his breath became labored. This would be his first taste of combat. He would never admit to feeling what he knew to be childish excitement, but he wanted to test himself. To discover if all the hard work he¡¯d put in over the years would be proven justified here today.

    Garrick¡¯s command of, ¡°Now, my lord!" Was cut off by the sergeant yelling, ¡°Attack!¡±"

    With his heart thundering like that of a galloping horse. Q forced himself out from beneath the tree roots, following his fellow Rivennans as they sprinted through the trees. When they broke out into the open plains, Q had his first, up close look at someone from another kingdom.

    The Drakovian¡¯s appearance was a surprise to Q. He¡¯d heard them described by the soldiers, but seeing them in-person made it real for him. Most looked to be of middling height, fit, and sun-tanned. The boiled leather armor they wore, nearly a match for their exposed skin. Their hair was dark, with the sides of their head shaved, and the top left long and braided in a horse-tail down their backs. Most of them carried shields and the curved swords he¡¯d heard so much about, though a few carried shortened spears.

    The enemy leader had made a mistake when he¡¯d chosen to dismount so close to where they¡¯d bedded down. It left them vulnerable, and out of place. When the patrol burst from cover, charging their unorganized mass. The loud roar of the men and the banging of sword on shields managed to spook the horses. Adding to the confusion and creating further chaos. Garrick had taken a position on Q¡¯s right to protect his weak side, while Credence took his left. The four guards forming up in a loose square around the three men as they closed with the Drakovians.

    The next few minutes were the longest of Q¡¯s short life. Time lost all sense of perspective and would later be a memory of broken fragments and sensations. The initial impact saw Q bouncing off the patrolman in front of him when he crashed to a halt, colliding with an enemy shield. Striking out at the back of a man¡¯s knee, Q¡¯s blade cut deeply into the man¡¯s flesh. He watched as his target cried in pain, still managing a thrust at Garrick with his spear as he fell. The next instant, Q felt the jarring impact of incorrectly blocking an overhead strike with his buckler. Forgetting to parry as he was trained, raw instinct taking over in the heat of battle with the lone goal of surviving the mayhem.

    Q fought, slashing and stabbing where he saw openings, only to be shoved aside as those fighting beside him barreled by in a frenzy. Moving with the impact, Q ducked under a curved blade as it tried to remove his head. Popping up faster than his attacker could react. He stabbed up and underneath the man¡¯s chin. Q watched as bloody foam exploded from the man¡¯s mouth, his tongue falling to the dirt with his scream.

    He froze at the sight before him, feeling blood and spittle running down his cheek. Q was too out of it to notice the Drakovian stalking forward, ready to take advantage of his shock. The man was blocked by one of Q¡¯s guardsmen. Their clash was brief, the Drakovian proving to be a much better fighter. Seeing his man run through broke Q of his paralysis and he charged forward. Reaching the man far quicker than his opponent was prepared for. He blocked Q¡¯s initial slash, but was already out of position, and unable to avoid the boss of Q¡¯s buckler as it crushed his orbital bone.

    After that, Q no longer hesitated. He worked the immediate area around him. Aiding those he could and avenging them when he couldn¡¯t. It continued for an unknown amount of time. Moments of clarity interspersed with skips in time that he would struggle to recall in the days to come. Until suddenly, it was over. There were no more enemies within sword reach. Broken from his trance, Q surveyed the bloody and torn up ground around him.

    Only then did he realize that the men of the surviving patrol were staring at him. Q looked from face to face in confusion, seeing nothing but shock and astonishment. Until his eyes met Garrick¡¯s.

    The connection seemed to shock the man into action. Turning around, he roared, ¡°You saw  NOTHING,  do you understand? We were attacked, the enemy Commander fucked up, and we took advantage of it. You all fought bravely, with courage and valor. You will be paid handsomely for your service to the Marquess, and you will never speak of what you saw today as repayment. Do I make myself clear?¡±

    The shock turned to looks of understanding as the survivors of the battle nodded their heads in agreement.

    Garrick turned back to Q and motioned him to move away from the men while they combed over the battlefield, finishing off any enemy still alive, and putting any of their own too far gone out of their misery.

    Q¡¯s brain finally noticed the grime and gore covering him. His armor was stained crimson with bits of flesh and hair stuck in the metal rings. He had just enough time to lift his helmet before he vomited. His stomach revolted several more times before he managed to get himself back under control.

    A canteen was dangled just in front of Q¡¯s face. Looking up, he saw Garrick standing over him with a knowing look in his eyes. ¡°The first time is always the hardest. There is no shame in being sick over it, and none of the lads will comment on a few tears. We¡¯ve all gone through it before.¡±

    Nodding, Q changed the subject. ¡°Why did you do that, threatening the men?¡±

    The man let out a hiss from between his teeth.

    ¡°Do you not realize what you¡¯ve done, my lord?¡± When Garrick¡¯s question was only met with confusion, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache starting.

    ¡°My lord, you were using magic. Q¡ªyou are Gifted.¡±

 B1C9 - What Comes Next

    Marches of Westlund

    Castle Ashford

    ¡°You are certain?¡± Asked Marquess Henry Ashford from where he stood, watching Garrick with a predatory stare.

    ¡°My Lord, would this not be a foolish thing to lie about? I swear it on the stars and our shared history of battle. The boy used the Gift in that fight. He moved faster and struck harder than any normal man could manage, let alone a fourteen year-old boy. I saw him cut clean through a man¡¯s leg with a short sword. A feat that I have only seen once, and that was fighting next to you¡­¡±

    Henry sighed and looked at the ceiling. ¡°And that was done by a mage. Stars above, they always said it was possible, but I never believed it .¡±

    Turning back to Garrick, he asked, ¡°The men with you?¡±

    ¡°Told to keep their mouths shut and that they would be rewarded for their bravery and discretion, my Lord. I escorted them to the guard hall and have them being fed as we speak. They are under orders to remain in the hall until given your leave.¡±

    Henry nodded, saying, ¡°I hope you¡¯ve enjoyed your vacation. Things are about to get much harder for you.¡±

    With a sigh and nod of his own, Garrick admitted, ¡°I thought as much. Sooner or later, it will get out that the boy is a mage, and when that happens, my lord¡­¡±

    ¡°The wolves will come knocking at our doors,¡± Henry finished for him as they exited the private meeting room and headed toward the guard hall.

    *****

    County Wycliffe

    Q¡¯s grandparents were at a loss for what the recent revelations would mean for their grandson. When his parents died, their main priority was to help him grieve. When he asked to learn to fight, it was not a hard request to agree to and something fairly easy to make happen. This, on the other hand, the discovery of Q¡¯s gift, changed  everything. Options previously open to him were now impossible. Closed doors were now flung wide open. Q, having only just passed his 14<sup>th</sup>   name day, meant there were several years left to prepare him, but they were having a difficult time deciding on what to prepare him for.

    ¡°We know he has the Physical Gift. He has done as much already. What we don¡¯t know is how powerful he is, nor what other affinities he has. We won¡¯t have access to a testing stone unless we want to bring him to the attention of the Council, an act I will not allow until we are forced to. The only option we have is to have him try out each one and see if he can do so. Between the two of us,¡± Ed said, pointing between himself and Nadine, ¡°We have all but the Mental gift covered. We can teach him the basics of our Gifts, and if he can use Mental magic, we may be able to arrange a teacher for him, if we can find someone we trust.¡±

    Nadine clapped her hands together excitedly. ¡°I have just the Lady in mind. She even has a son close to Q¡¯s age who is also gifted. She has written to me about the difficulties he has had navigating this new world we find ourselves in. I''m sure she would leap at the opportunity to introduce her son to someone who wouldn¡¯t be looking to use him and gain favor.¡±

    ¡°Then we will leave that in your capable hand, my dear,¡± said Ed. ¡°Now how do we prepare him to deal with the mages he will meet at the Academy? They will not take kindly to him being in attendance.¡±

    ¡°Why? Because he¡¯s norm-born and the son of a traitor?¡± Henry scoffed, joining in the conversation.

    Ed and Nadine traded a look before Ed answered. ¡°That is exactly why. You might not care about the first, and we agree, it¡¯s closer to a gift from the stars. The latter will be a problem, though. The king may know Julian was innocent, but he has not publicly cleared your son¡¯s name. To everyone else, he is still guilty of treason.¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine. You two deal with the magic. I will go to the capital and find someone to teach him how to behave at court. There has been an itch on my back I¡¯ve not had the chance to scratch. Maybe I can take care of it at the same time.¡±

    *****The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Q¡¯s grandparents led him down a hallway he¡¯d never seen before. An oddity, as he¡¯d believed he had explored every door and every room in the Wycliff Estate over the years.  There have been a lot of odd things going on the last few months,  Q thought.

    Reaching a blank stone wall, his grandfather indicated for Q to go first. Placing his hands against the stone in confusion, Q pushed. When it didn¡¯t budge, he pushed harder, and still, nothing. He stepped back and raised an eyebrow, an expression so similar to Julian¡¯s, it caught Ed off guard for a moment. As the boy grew, the more like his parents, he appeared.

    Clearing his throat, Ed explained, ¡°This door was made by your grandmother. It is solid stone and only a mage who can strengthen themselves physically or have a good grasp of earth magic will be able to open it.¡± Stepping forward, Ed placed his palms against the stone and channeled his gift through his muscles. With a grunt, he pushed on the door and it started to rotate inward.

    Q watched in fascination as his grandfather, who he knew to be in his sixties, even if he looked half his age, push open the heavy stone door. Unable to resist the question, even though he¡¯d been ordered not to discuss magic around the servants, he whispered, ¡°Will I be able to do that?¡±

    Swinging the door wide enough for them to enter, Ed puffed out a grateful breath, happy to be done. Turning to face Q, he waved an arm forward, motioning him through. Q raced through, with Nadine following in behind Ed. A push of her earth magic and the door swung shut easily.

    ¡°Yes, son, you will, and this is where you will learn to do it.¡±

    The words were lost on Q as he walked into the center of the room, turning in a circle to see it in its entirety. His heart started beating faster, bringing with it the memory of the last time he¡¯d felt such a rush.

    Ed saw the moment Q¡¯s thoughts turned dark. He traded a look with his wife before walking up to his grandson. Bending down so they were eye level, a distance that shrunk significantly over the last few months, Ed gripped Q by the shoulders and gave him a slight shake.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine to go there. You need to sometimes to process the bloody world we live in, but don¡¯t let the bad block out the stars.¡± Stepping away from the young man, no longer a boy, he asked, ¡°Would you like to know where we are?¡±

    Q learned that the chamber was formed and made by his grandmother, just for him. It would be the only place he was allowed to learn and practice magic. The room was formed in a large dome. Clear crystals studded sections of the ceiling, letting sunlight shined through, reflecting off the walls, and lighting up the room. There were support pillars spread around the chamber for additional support. His grandmother said they likely weren¡¯t necessary, but when experimenting with the Gift, it was always better to tend toward safety.

    ¡°The sun will light the chamber during the day, and the crystals will absorb the light from the stars at night if you need to use the room,¡± she explained.

    Q loved his magic chamber, but did ask why he would not be allowed to practice his magic outside of it. They explained that it would be better for him in the future if his gift remained a secret only spoken about within their family, at least for the time being.

    The Marquess did what he could to smother any rumors about Q¡¯s gift from spreading, but it was only a matter of time. Nadine and Ed discussed it at length, and decided that they would explain what having magic would mean to Q when they presented the completed chamber to him.

    ¡°Quinten, you have been patient beyond your years in waiting for us to discuss your Gift. We both remember our own awakening, and how much we wanted to start learning immediately, so thank you, dear. Here is where your grandfather and I will start your magical education, but before we can do that, we need to discuss how your Gift is going to change your future.¡±

    Q nodded. He¡¯d heard snippets over the years from guards, servants, or while traveling. The country was short of mages, and the king¡¯s recent changes had not been popular to the majority of the kingdom. While the new laws did not affect most of the population being Un-gifted, they created enough problems to anger enough of it to take notice.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard things here and there, but what would you like me to know?¡± he asked.

    ¡°To start, in a few years, you will have to go to the capital to attend the Mage Academy. There you will receive two years of training. Once complete, you will be required to serve four years in the Mage Core, protecting the realm.¡± His grandmother explained.

    ¡°Will I be going alone?¡±

    ¡°For now, but I am working to fix that. This next part¡­ I am going to leave it to your grandfather to explain.¡± Said the Countess of Wyndham as she quickly turned away, walking across the room with poise and grace. The count was smart enough not to comment on her blush when she passed. She opened the door with a wave of her hand, closing it behind her as she exited.

    Q looked at his grandfather with another raised eyebrow.

    ¡°She is a Lady, and you would do well to leave it at that. Now, what the king¡¯s new laws mean for you is that when you eventually join gifted society, you are going to become a target for marriage¡­¡±

    Over the next hour, Ed taught him many things he would have preferred not to know yet. The kingdom¡¯s necessity behind the horny mage¡¯s edict, and what would be expected of him by his twenty-fifth name day.

    It was a conversation that cleared up much and brought even more into question. But that was OK. He had something much more important to focus on¡ªmagic.

 B1C10 - Gifts of Rivenna

    County Wycliffe

    Magic Chamber

    In the Kingdom of Rivenna, there were five gifts of magic common to the mages of the realm:

    Elemental, Healing, Mental, Physical, and Transmutation.

    Each Gift had an unlimited number of ways in which they could be used, limited only by their wielder¡¯s creativity. The strength and skill of a mages¡¯s abilities lay in a combination of their natural affinity with that type of magic, their connection and understanding with that part of their gift, and maybe the largest determiner of power, the amount of effort they put into learning, practice, and training.

    ¡°Magic is instinctual. Each type is unique in the way you feel it, how you control it, and every mage will interact with their Gift in a way unique to them.¡± Ed explained, walking in a circle around Q, where he struggled to lift a box full of dirt. The container was a three-sided cube, one foot across, and was the rough equivalent of half his bodyweight.

    Ed demonstrated at the start of their lesson that a mage with Physical gifts could increase their strength, speed, endurance, and durability. In addition to more targeted augmentations, they could make within each of those categories. From improving their reaction time and reflexes to augmenting their vision and hearing. The smaller the change, the more energy efficient it was.

    With the awakening of his gift, and Q¡¯s entrance into the world of magic. He was at one disadvantage by agreeing to his grandparent¡¯s decision to keep his abilities quiet, the inability to use a testing stone.

    Created by the Mage Council, testing stones were used to do just that, test a mages Gifts. By channeling their magic into the stone it would indicate which Gifts they had access to, and the amount of stellum they had within them. When he¡¯d asked about it, his grandfather had told him he¡¯d learn all about it when he went to the Academy. Without access to a stone, they were left to discover Q¡¯s potential on their own the old fashion way, through trial and error.

    Gifts typically awakened during puberty between someone¡¯s 12  <sup>th</sup>   and 16  <sup>th</sup>   name day. With the vast majority of mages coming from noble families, they were usually expected and were quickly registered with the Mage Council and taken to be tested. On the rare occasions that a lucky commoner awakened their gift, it was usually celebrated by their family, and likewise registered before being given access to a testing stone.

    ¡°Regardless of which Gifts you receive, the limiting factor of what a mage can do is a matter of discovery. How I wield my magic may differ from how you will use your own, but it can give you ideas and suggestions for new methods to test your abilities. You will find a way of doing something and it will work OK, but by adding hand motions, maybe it flows a little easier or has a larger effect. Maybe physically touching an object while transmuting is required, maybe it¡¯s not. The point is that through experimentation, you will find what feels right for you personally and through trial and error, you will discover how to bring out the full potential of your Gift. This is normally something you would learn at the Mage Academy¡­ but your grandmother and I have chosen to introduce the concept to you early.¡±

    There had been a reason for that decision. Just not one they had chosen to share with Q.

    After presenting him with the magic chamber, his first week of lessons on magic came with some¡­ uncomfortable revelations. Q had shown the ability to tap into four different disciplines of the Gift: Elemental, Mental, Physical, and Transmutation. The appearance of so many gifts meant he was  well  above average when it came to power, likely in the top 1% of mages remaining in the kingdom. To Ed¡¯s knowledge, there were less than 50 across the realm that could boast of having more than three. The number of Gifts a mage had access to was tied directly to the amount of energy, or stellum, a mage had available to them to fuel their magic. This was often called their Gift Well.

    In Q¡¯s case, he had far more energy than either Ed or Nadine had ever seen. That level of power would be more of a liability than a benefit until Q could protect himself from those that would want to use him.

    Edmund and Nadine made the decision to start Q¡¯s instruction with his Physical gift. With Ed having access to Physical, Elemental, and Healing, and Nadine¡¯s own Elemental and Transmutation magic, they agreed that having Q focus on Physical magic, which was done internally, would make it easier for him to get the basics based on their experience.

    The lessons had been going¡­ OK, in Q¡¯s opinion. He understood what his grandfather described in theory. Putting it into practice was proving to be a challenge. He¡¯d had partial success. Feeling a tingle run through his body. He lifted the dirt-filled container an inch off the ground before the feeling would cut off, and he was immediately forced to drop the heavy load.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be discouraged, Q. This is all a part of the process. You can¡¯t expect to lift a mountain your first week with magic, boy!¡±

    Q groaned and rubbed the muscles in his lower back, pressing his lips into a tight line as he stared at the container.

    ¡°Lift with your legs, son. Use your back and you¡¯re going to need a Healer.¡± Grandfather admonished.

    Snorting, Q said, ¡°Good thing I have you then, huh, Grandfather?¡± Sighing, Q asked, ¡°I¡¯ve already used my Gift before, and I didn¡¯t have this much trouble, why can¡¯t I do it now?¡±

    Ed nodded. ¡°Yes, you did, but that was done in the heat of battle and on pure instinct. The extent to which you did so is an indicator of your potential, but you cannot rely on instinct alone or it will fail you when you need it most. You need control, and through it, you may find that same state you experienced fighting the Drakovians.¡±

    Letting out one last heavy sigh, Q stepped back up to the container and bent down, this time making sure to use his legs.

    *****This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Q spent the next several months in controlled experimentation. He added several hours of magical study to his physical and military training. Subjects that he¡¯d argued to continue studying. His grandfather eventually agreed, but only after negotiating a deal with Q, in which he would continue to learn to conduct business under Ed in exchange.

    The weeks flew by and Q lost himself in the day to day. He spent them exploring his Gifts, learning how to connect with them, and what felt right for each when he called on them. His grandfather kept his guidance mostly to suggestions on new ways of accomplishing a goal, or by prompting a different way of thinking about a problem Q would run into. They briefly touched on the topic of Healing magic. With his grandfather¡¯s ability to use it, Q had more leeway in his training than was likely normal for a novice. Knowing he had a Healer in residence allowed him to test things he might not have otherwise attempted.

    Healing magic in the kingdom was rare, and widely considered the most valuable Gift one could receive. Even more valuable to the noble class than being able to healing the sick and injured was their ability to keep someone looking young. The process of rejuvenation wouldn¡¯t extend their life, but it would keep them looking and feeling younger than they could ever hope for naturally. Ed advised Q to be exceptionally nice to any he met, just in case his life was ever in their hands, figuratively or politically, as those with the highest skill moved in some very powerful circles.

    As time passed, Q discovered where his affinities lay and more importantly, where they did not. There may have only been five disciplines of magic, but they had countless combinations and uses. Commonly seen pairings were elemental manipulation using Elemental magic and Transmutation. Earth turned to stone, ice to crystal, or wood to metal. Another well-known but rare ability among mages was the art of ''shifting,'' which involved combining Physical and Transmutation magic. By using these two gifts in tandem, a mage could alter their appearance and physical traits to suit specific needs. Mostly used for battle, it was often told of in great stories of war and wonder, likely leading to its great renown.

    Q discovered he had a high aptitude for both Physical and Transmutation, just not when using them together on himself. He didn¡¯t have the knack for shifting, and had realized that fairly quickly after a few painful failures.

    Realizing his shortcomings in one aspect of magic did nothing to dampen his spirits. Q dove into the lessons provided by his grandparents. He rapidly progressed through the basics. They warned him that he would soon reach the limit of what they could teach him. At that point, his progression would depend on his own experimentation until he left to attend the Mage Academy.

    Taking their warning to heart, Q spent hours each day working on his own. Losing himself in the magic, feeling it as it coursed through his body while channeling his gift. He loved to experience the flow of energy as it left his body. Captivated by its interaction with the world around him as he spun fire, wind, water, and earth to his will. The only gift he could not fully practice was Mental. Since neither grandparent could use it themselves, he was forced to try to discover its secrets on his own. Ed had ordered books on the subject, and Q would pour through them. Hoping to find a hint or tip that would help him improve. As it stood, he had managed some minor success in telekinesis, but even to his untrained eye, his ability to lift a cup of dirt was less than impressive.

    It was in this final discipline that he often push himself too far until he¡¯d drawn his gift well nearly dry. The practice had put him out of commission several times already, and became a severe enough problem that his grandparents were forced to order it to stop.

    Q didn¡¯t mean for it to happen¡­ But there would be moments¡ªmoments that he¡¯d feel just on the edge of a breakthrough, so he¡¯d try again, and again, until eventually it either clicked, or he woke up several hours later, passed out on the stone floor of the chamber, completely out of energy.

    Mock duels were one aspect of training that Q fell in love with the moment they were introduced.

    He and Nadine circled each other in the center of the chamber. Maintaining eye contact, they watched the other for the smallest hint of their opponent¡¯s next move.

    With a flick of her wrist, Q¡¯s grandmother sent a tendril of water from the newly created fountain. Built to assist Q with his water manipulation until he learned enough control that he could draw water from his surroundings. The tendril lashed out at Q, forcing him to dive out of the way or risk her turning it to ice and freezing him in place.

    He rolled into a crouch and braced himself with one hand on the stone floor. He raised the other and called forth a blast of wind before sending it at Nadine. She made a chopping motion with her other hand, and a crescent of wind split his attack in two.

    ¡°Good!¡± She called, ¡°You¡¯re getting faster.¡±

    She redirected the water she¡¯d summoned, and it shot across the chamber, homing in on Q as he remained in place. He looked all too ready to jump as the water tendril approached. It was a surprise to Nadine when he instead chose not to, and let the water soak him.

    Nadine raised an eyebrow, but continued with her attack, turning the water to ice. It was in that moment of distraction that Q sprang his trap. The stone immediately beneath her feet crumbled. She fell three feet and into the hole he¡¯d created beneath her. She reached down to catch herself on instinct, and Q let loose with the final step of his plan. The hole filled in, sealing his grandmother¡¯s arms and hands at her sides.

    It was with a shit-eating grin that Q approached the woman, half her body trapped in a hole. She narrowed her eyes and stared him down before breaking into laughter.

    ¡°Congratulations, Q! That was fantastic. I¡¯m so proud of you.¡±

    Q¡¯s grin turned into a gleeful laugh of his own before settling into a smile that reached from ear to ear. ¡°Thanks, I¡¯ve been planning that one for a¡ª¡±

    His words cut off when the stone he¡¯d just stepped on gave out. He fell forward, falling into a coffin size hole roughly a foot deep. He could hear his grandmother cackle as he sat up, the hole closing in and locking him in place.

    ¡°Did you think I wouldn¡¯t feel you opening up a hole beneath me? You forgot that the farther away the magic you try to work, the weaker your gift becomes. I could have wrestled control away and stopped you from the start.¡± Nadine reminded him.

    Well, normally that¡¯s how it works. With as much power as he has¡ªI¡¯m not even sure that would be the case with him,  she thought.

    Q¡¯s lips drew down in a frown as he mumbled, ¡°I didn¡¯t forget¡­ I just hoped you wouldn¡¯t notice after the air blast.¡±

    Grinning, Nadine shook her head. ¡°Remind me to try to teach you Earth Sense. It takes a lot of practice to get the feeling down, but it¡¯ll stop anyone manipulating earth or stone near you without you being aware.¡±

    That was how Ed found them, with Q and his grandmother discussing tactics, each of them half trapped in the stone floor.

    Ed willed open the chamber door with earth manipulation and a bit of strength as he pushed. Entering the room, Q could immediately tell something was wrong. His pallor was off, and the lines around his mouth were drawn tight with how firmly they were pressed together. Cutting off mid-sentence, he caught his grandmother¡¯s attention, and she turned her head to see her husband standing there.

    With a frown, she asked, ¡°Edmund? What is it?¡± Moving her fingers from beneath the floor, she used earth manipulation to free Q and herself.

    Ed swallowed thickly before attempting to clear his throat. ¡°Henry is back from Gremelda. He has asked for us to join him to discuss what he learned about Julian and Katherine while in the Capital.¡± Peering at Q, he recognized the question before the young man could even voice it. ¡°Yes, Q¡­ He wants you there too. He said that what he found is something we  all  need to hear.¡±

 B1C11 - A Traitor and A Tutor

    Capital City of Gremelda

    Six Weeks Earlier

    It was easier for Henry to enter through Gremelda¡¯s city gates than expected. He thought the memories of the time around his son¡¯s death would come rushing back The fact they had not was both a blessing and a curse.

    Still holding on to some of that guilt,  he thought.

    Henry made his way through the city. Choosing to stay in an inn he¡¯d used before, booking a room for himself and his men. Alone in his room, he began to plan out his next steps. He wasn¡¯t sure where to start with finding an etiquette teacher for Q, but he didn¡¯t believe doing so would be too terribly difficult. A far harder task would be finding out what led to his son¡¯s arrest, conviction, and murder.  At least I knew where to start with that one . Henry dressed in dark clothing, adding a black cloak with a deep hood to complete his disguise. He ordered his guards to remain at the inn. He needed to do this part on his own.

    Standing outside of the Office of Inquisition, Henry recalled all the injustices he¡¯d heard of that could be traced back to the place. Striding forward with a shiver, he was forced to stop when the door opened and a man walked out. Henry scrutinized him closely, and was disappointed that the man did not match the description given to him by Ed and Nadine of the agent who¡¯d conducted the investigation.

    Of course, it¡¯s not going to be that easy, you old fool.  Thought Henry, berating himself.

    Entering the building, he walked into a well lit room with seating in the main area and a man standing behind a tall counter. Henry lowered his hood and crossed the room, stopping before the receptionist.

    The man finished scrawling on a piece of paper, and looked up with a smile. ¡°How can I assist you, my Lord?¡±

    Henry could admit to being thrown off balance. This was not what he¡¯d envisioned based on the rumors he heard. ¡°I would like to speak with the agent that conducted the investigation of treason against my son, Earl Julian Ashford.¡±

    His question was met with silence while the receptionist¡¯s face drained of blood.

    ¡°Is there a problem¡­?¡± Henry asked, his stomach tightening.

    ¡°I am sorry, my Lord. I cannot discuss that case with you.¡±

    Lost for words only long enough for his anger to spike, Henry demanded, ¡°What do you mean you cannot discuss the case with me? It¡¯s the reason my son is dead!¡±

    The receptionist took a step back, somehow managing to lose even more color from his face. ¡°Mmm mmmy apologies, my L-lord. I misspoke. I did n-not just mean y-you, I cannot discuss that case with a-anyone.¡±

    He stared at the man in confusion. ¡°And why star-blasted, not?¡±

    ¡°I-it was royally sealed, my lord. On pain of death.¡±

    Henry left the Office of Inquisition in a daze, not bothering to raise his hood. He walked a few feet down the street and sat, resting his head against the wall.

    He could not think of a single reason the king would seal the records. Unless¡ªJulian was unequivocally proven innocent, and the king did not want the fact he¡¯d killed an innocent man to become known. The thought angered Henry. It was one thing to be innocent, and he¡¯d never doubted that Julian was. But to have his son¡¯s murder covered up to protect the king¡¯s image¡­ It was a disgrace and an insult to their line.

    The anger clouding Henry¡¯s focus nearly made him miss the man as he walked by and entered the Office of Inquisition.  He¡¯s about the right height¡­ and his hair was the right length and shade.

    With no other leads except to find the man in charge of the investigation, in the hope that he would speak with Henry, he had nothing but time to spare. So, he sat like a beggar with his hood up, watching the front door as people came and went. Several bells marking the passage of time rang out before the man reappeared. Finally able to see the man¡¯s face from this angle, Henry¡¯s fists clenched in anticipation upon confirming the presence of a rather memorable nose.

    The man, who Henry now believed to be the agent he was looking for, turned in the opposite direction. Jumping to his feet, he followed after his target. They walked for some time before the man turned down a side street. Henry was unfamiliar with the area of town, and hastened his steps to not lose the man by accident. He turned the corner and collided with a body.

    Arms wrapped around Henry, pinning his own to his sides. He lashed out with his forehead, catching his assailant in the nose, and freeing himself. Stepping back, Henry took a ready stance before he realized it was his target that had grabbed him.

    Holding his nose, the man mumbled out, ¡±You just struck an agent of the King. I hope you meant to get yourself killed when you started following me.¡±

    Henry raised an eyebrow. ¡°No, I believe you attacked a Marquess in broad daylight. Most would think that you would be the one to die in that exchange.¡±

    The agent wiped the blood from his upper lip, squinting at Henry¡¯s face. Recognition dawned, and he tilted his head back with a groan. ¡°I knew that I would be seeing you eventually, my Lord Ashford.¡±

    Henry gripped the man by his shoulder, pushing him farther down the alley and away from the busy street. Giving the man a shove. Henry forced him against the wall and hissed. ¡°Good, that will make this easier. Those were your words before my son was arrested and brought here to be murdered. Were they not?¡±

    Setting his head back against the wall as he fought to stop the bleeding from his nose, the agent answered, ¡°Yes, my lord, they were. I am truly sorry for what happened.¡±

    He watched the man for a long moment. ¡°You found him innocent.¡± It was not a question.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Nodding, the agent lowered his hand to look Henry in the eyes.

    ¡°Then why is he dead?¡± He demanded between gritted teeth.

    The man licked his lips and closed his eyes. ¡°I cannot say, my lord.¡±

    His anger took over and robbed him of control. Henry grabbed the man by his shirt, pressing him against the wall. ¡°I know about the royal seal. I don¡¯t care and I will not disclose how I found this information. Now,  tell me why my son was murdered!¡± He fought the urge to yell and risk drawing attention.

    Meeting Henry¡¯s gaze once more, the agent appeared to be searching for something. Whatever it was, he must have found it, because a moment later he began to confess.

    ¡°I believe that was an accident by the king. My investigation into the allegations against your son was not complete before the king held your son¡¯s trial. I don¡¯t know why he chose to do so, but when I brought up concerns, I was told to mind my place. After the trial, the Director of Inquisition visited me personally. Demanding all my work and anything related to the case be handed over directly to him.¡±

    Henry watched the man for any sign of falsehood, but he could find none. ¡°What started the investigation against Julian in the first place?¡±

    Shaking his head, the agent admitted, ¡°That, I do not know. To protect a reporters anonymity, the agent that takes a report is not the one that investigates. The only person that would know the full details of an investigation would be the Director. I managed to confirm that everything submitted came from a single source, and that it was the only information I could find that linked your son to the conspiracy.¡±

    Letting out a breath, Henry rubbed the sides of his temple, feeling a headache coming on. He was not cut out for dealing with intrigue at this level.

    ¡°My lord.. there is one thing that may be of value.¡±

    Henry lowered his hand, giving the agent his full attention.

    ¡°During my investigation, there was something that didn¡¯t make sense, so it never made it into my report. The day before this case was assigned to me, I saw a man leaving the Director¡¯s office. I had never seen him before, but that was not uncommon. Later, when I was following up on the associates allegedly hired by your son. There was a man who looked remarkably similar drinking with them like he did it regularly. Originally, I believed it was my imagination or the light playing a trick in the dark tavern. But¡ªI saw that same man one last time immediately after your son¡¯s trial.¡±

    The intensity of Henry¡¯s gaze caused the agent¡¯s throat to turn dry. Forcing down a swallow, he continued in a rush. ¡°My Lord, I remember the moment because it was not him that I noticed first. It was who he was standing beside as part of the man¡¯s household.¡±

    ¡°Who, stars take you? Who was it!¡±

    ¡°I¨Cit was Duke Alistair. He was standing next to Duke Alistair, the Minister of the Interior, my Lord.¡±

    *****

    The expected summons was there when Henry returned to the inn. His guard captain delivering it to his room after seeing him slip through the front door and make his way up the stairs.

    The King had learned he was back in the city and demanded to see him the next morning.  I wonder what you¡¯ll have to say to me now, your Majesty.

    The next day, Henry was led through the royal palace, down familiar hallways, and into the same council chambers he had worked side-by-side with the king for so many years. For once, he would not be kept waiting for the King, as he was already present, along with the Queen. Which was a surprise, she had rarely participated in Council matters.

    She¡¯s here to play peace maker,  he thought. The realization kindling a small flame in his chest, a sense of satisfaction running through him.  You need me.

    Henry bowed to the King and Queen as his guide exited the room, the door closing with a solid  thud.  Righting himself, he chose to wait for them to speak first. It was petty, and against propriety if not etiquette, but it would set the tone he desired.

    Stepping into her role as peacemaker flawlessly, the Queen broke the silence, ¡°Henry, it has been too long. Thank you for joining us this morning.¡±

    ¡°Of course, your Majesty. One comes when ordered by one¡¯s King.¡± His response was brief and to the point, giving her nothing to work with.

    ¡°What brought you back to the city?¡± She continued, pushing for more.

    ¡°I need to hire an etiquette teacher for my grandson, your Majesty.¡±

    The King, seeing an opportunity to jump in to the conversation, took it, ¡°And how is the boy? He must be what¡ª13-14 summers by now?¡±

    Henry stared at the man, picturing all of the ways he¡¯d thought this meeting would go, and decided to forsake the stars. Going for the jugular, he said, ¡°Nearly 15 summers, your Majesty ,  and he is doing as well as one could expect¡ªfor an orphan.¡±

    The queen visibly winced, and the king¡¯s face went red in embarrassment or anger. He could not tell, nor did he care. ¡°Yes¡­ that was terrible business. We were and still are, sickened by the whole situation. But¡ªwith a threat to the kingdom, we had to act quickly and ruthlessly. We are just devastated that it touched on your family.¡± The king declared, voice full of remorse.

    Another stretch of silence passed as Henry looked at the king, disgusted beyond all measure, and feeling not an ounce of surprise at the king¡¯s decision to lie. ¡°You believe he was guilty of treason then, your majesty?¡±

    ¡°That was what the evidence indicated, and it was the ruling I gave that day,¡± admitted the king, starting to fidget under Henry¡¯s unwavering stare.

    Nodding, he looked over at the queen, where she leaned against the large wooden council table and asked, ¡°And the report from the Office of Inquisition, your Majesty? Did it agree with the evidence that my son was guilty of treason?¡± Henry could see the tightening around her mouth and eyes, but all other reactions were controlled.

    The king jerked, enough to be noticed, even with his eyes on the queen. Drawing Henry¡¯s gaze back, the king answered, ¡°Yes, that is exactly what it said.¡±

    Henry closed his eyes and took a long breath to get his emotions back under control. When he felt able, he opened them once more. Looking back and forth between the King and Queen, his Liege and Lady in spirit no longer, he asked. ¡°How is that possible if the investigation was still ongoing the day my son and daughter-in-law were killed, your Majesty?¡±

    *****

    County Wycliffe

    Present Day

    ¡°And what did the king have to say to that?¡± Demanded Ed from where he stood staring into the burning coals of the fireplace.

    With a scoff, Henry growled, ¡°Star-blasted nothing, is what he had to say. He just stared at my face like I hadn¡¯t even asked him a question and walked out of the room.¡± Throwing back the rest of his goblet, he continued, ¡°The queen tried to smooth it over, but what could the woman say? She gave me some empty platitudes and beat feet out of there pretty quickly. Left me standing in the empty Council chamber like a dullard.¡±

    Henry eyed the half-full decanter of wine before shaking himself and deciding one was enough.

    ¡°So,¡± started Nadine, ¡°What do we do now? Where does this leave us?¡±

    Q looked from her, to grandfather, to grandfather, waiting for someone to speak. He had more questions than answers after Henry¡¯s tale. By the stars, he even had a name. What he did not have, was a way to move forward. Nor did he have a plan to bring justice to those that had killed his parents.

    ¡°For now,¡± said Ed as he exchanged a drawn out glance with Henry. ¡°We will focus on your training. It is more important than ever that you learn how to protect yourself, Q. Your grandfather and I will button up our holdings and work on putting some contingencies in place against the Duke. Unfortunately, it is no simple matter to compete against a man of his rank and power. As I said... for now, you just focus on your training. We can handle everything else.¡±

    Henry placed a hand on Q¡¯s shoulder before saying, ¡°you can rest assured that we will do everything in our own considerable power to make that man¡ªand any who aided him, pay.¡±

 B1C12 - The Mind Witch Pt. 1

    County Wycliffe

    Q¡¯s 15  <sup>th</sup>   name day came and went. As his training continued, he settled into a rhythm. His mornings would start with martial practice. He would then bathe, eat, and join his grandfather in his study to assist in running the County. He no longer just sat for instruction, now he was given tasks to complete and reports to compile. For each report, a summary or a suggestion on how to proceed was required from Q. At times, he was called on to defend his reasoning or explain in further detail. He had learned early on to be clear and concise in his writing, less he be forced to rewrite the entire report. His grandfather took the business of running the County, seriously, and expected Q to do likewise.

    His afternoons consisted of additional study in military strategy or court etiquette and protocol. Unless Q traveled with his grandfather to various parts of the county to assist him in some way. His evenings were spent practicing his Gifts in either his magic chamber or in his grandmother¡¯s private garden if he felt the need for a change of scenery.

    Today would be a bit different. He currently stood outside, next to his grandmother, at her request. She hadn¡¯t told him why she wanted him there, but she¡¯d said she had a surprise for him. They waited in a comfortable silence. Q was accustomed to working quietly with her in her garden. It was there, where she¡¯d taught him to combine his earth and water spells to help plants grow.

    They had to wait for only a few minutes before an unfamiliar carriage pulled up to their gate. The guard stepped forward to speak with the driver. The next moment, he shifted to the side and opened the door, assisting the occupants as they climbed out.

    A woman stepped down, taking the guard''s gloved hand before gracefully exiting. She was of middling height, with long mahogany trusses that hung past her shoulders. She had that same timeless quality of someone who applied Healing magic to keep their youthful appearance. Behind her came a young man, around Q¡¯s own age. He stood a head taller than the woman, likely his mother, putting him on par with Q¡¯s own six feet. He was considerably thinner, leading Q to believe that like most nobles expecting to awaken a gift, he spent little to no time in a practice yard learning to fight. Long curly dark hair that reached below his ears, and a pale complexion that gave further evidence regarding the young man¡¯s time spent outdoors, completed the picture.

    Q¡¯s grandmother stepped forward, lifting a hand in greeting, which was returned by the woman. The two made their way through the gate and approached Q and his grandmother. The Lady, and probable Lord, performed a courtly greeting to the Countess before offering a shallower version to Q as etiquette demanded. Q and his grandmother returned them in kind. Nadine closed the remaining distance and embraced the woman, an action that caught both Q and the young man by surprise.

    ¡°It is so good to see you, dear. And just look at your son. I haven¡¯t seen him since he was a babe.¡±

    The two young men stared in confusion as the women walked into the house. Trading looks, Q shrugged and stuck out his hand.

    ¡°Hello¡­ I am Quinten, Earl of Ashford. Welcome to County Wycliffe.¡±

    ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you, Earl Ashford. I am Baron Cedric Vaelmara, and that was my mother, Baroness Elara Vaelmara.¡± Cedric said as they traded grasps.

    ¡°The pleasure is all mine, Baron. You may call me Q if you would like, and while I wasn¡¯t told the reason for your visit, I have an odd feeling we will be seeing much of each other.¡±

    Q and Cedric followed their relatives through the hallways and back outside into the private garden. Q¡¯s grandfather was already there, seated with a pot of tea and a table arranged for guests.

    He stood as the women reached him. The baroness presented her hand, to which the count kissed, before pulling out a seat for her. He did the same for his wife and sat back down himself, waving at the two young men to join them.

    Once the tea was served, it was the baroness who spoke first. ¡°When I first received your letter, I did not know what to think. You were decidedly vague in the details, and much has changed since the last time we saw each other¡­ I was hesitant to accept your invitation. It took remembering the letter you sent after Calen¡¯s death to convince me that though the laws may have changed, you had not.¡±

    Before Q had begun his training for court, the intricacies of which she spoke would have been lost on him. Now though, he understood her hesitation.

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°Let me put at least one concern to rest,¡± Q¡¯s grandfather said as he gestured to his wife. ¡°She will be the only wife I ever take. I have said as much to the Mage Council and dared them to take me before the king, to which they have not. As you can see, their urgings have done naught but waste ink and parchment.¡±

    Q could see some of the tightness leave the baroness¡¯s shoulders. She may have come, but it was clear she¡¯d still been concerned.

    ¡°What were your other worries, dear? I should have expected that,  being one of them. You have my apologies. I was vague in my letter on purpose and you will soon learn why,¡± Nadine said, leaning over and squeezing the baroness¡¯s hand.

    Her eyes flickered over to her son, almost too quickly for Q to catch.  Huh,  thought Q,  she¡¯s already being pressured.

    Q¡¯s grandmother caught the movement as well. A small laugh escaped before she could cover her mouth. ¡°Oh dear, Elara. You must accept my apologies. I should never have attempted to delve into spy craft writing that letter.¡±

    She looked at her husband, who was staring at her in confusion, and said, ¡°I wrote that I had someone I thought Cedric should meet.¡±

    The Count guffawed and shook his head. ¡°You are very brave, having accepted an invitation with a threat like that, Elara.¡±

    The king¡¯s Royal Edict, placed into law three years earlier, had a few unintended consequences. The largest being that male mages were now considered a critical kingdom resource. Their value was comparable to that of a king¡¯s ransom, something a few were unfortunate enough to discover. There had been hushed reports of predatory political pressure, noble influences of greater rank, and even violence being used to force unwanted marriages on vulnerable young mages.

    In an ideal situation, mathematically speaking, the new laws should have seen an overall increase in the number of women gaining the opportunity to marry a fellow mage, even if they had to share. All but ensuring their future children would be Gifted. Even with the loss of nearly fifty percent of the kingdom¡¯s gifted men.

    The reality was that a large portion of the remaining men were past their prime. Even with Healers on hand to keep them looking young, they were less than ideal candidates for the unwed or newly widowed populace, seeking to marry and have gifted children of their own.

    Another consequence of the new laws was in relation to how this change affected commoners. The possibility of receiving a stipend, and support from the Crown for any commoner woman that could prove they were carrying a mage¡¯s child, promised a better life than many of them could ever hope for. This¡ªopportunity  had resulted in more than one instance of impropriety. Creating its own form of chaos, as the involved parties were not always unwed when they chose to make the attempt.

    The baroness¡¯s shoulders stiffened once more. The action extending to her hand, tightening around her cup when she went to sip her tea. Seeing her reaction, Q¡¯s grandmother explained. ¡°The person I was referring to was my grandson, Quinten.¡± She said, indicating him with a wave of her hand.

    Q, being just as confused as their two guests, raised an eyebrow in question. A habit inherited from his father, and one his etiquette teacher had tried, and failed, to break him of.

    Nadine continued, ¡°We had several reasons for inviting you to stay with us. I hoped to introduce our two boys, giving them the opportunity to become friends. It would be good for them to have someone they knew they could trust in the future.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I do not understand,¡± the baroness admitted. Her mouth falling into a slight frown as she tilted her head to the side.

    Q¡¯s grandparents traded a look and Nadine explained, ¡°Q will be attending the Mages Academy the same year as Cedric. He is gifted Elara.¡±

    The baroness¡¯s eyes went wide as she stared at the boy in question. Q could see the thoughts running through her head, the connections being made. Her brows drew together and the slight downturn of her lips developed into a full-blown frown. She found herself unable to resist asking, ¡°Was Julian not¡­?¡±

    ¡°No, he was Q¡¯s father. There has never been any doubt, but I tested his blood against a sample provided by Marquess Ashford, Julian¡¯s father, and it verified the results just to be sure.¡±

    ¡°A male, norm-born mage?¡± Cedric blurted as he stared at Q. His outburst earning him a glare from his mother. The young man immediately ducked his head and mumbled an apology.

    ¡°That is but one of many reasons we have kept his gift a secret,¡± Q¡¯s grandfather commented dryly.

    Q could see the tips of Cedric¡¯s ears turn red as his blush deepened. After a moment, Ed took mercy on the boy, and turned his attention back to the baroness.

    ¡°We have been teaching him the basics. As I¡¯m sure you have for your own son. But there is one gift we could not fully instruct him in¡ªMental.¡±

 B1C12 - The Mind Witch Pt. 2

    Q stood across from Elara. Like many of his military instructors, she preferred to be called by her name, and not her title, when conducting training. Cedric and his grandparents stood against the far wall to watch her test Q¡¯s current magical knowledge. According to her, the best way to do that was in a practice duel.

    Knowing she was there to teach him how mind magic worked was the only hint he had about what gifts she could use. Q also felt off, knowing he would be using magic in front of someone other than his grandparents or Garrick for the first time since the battle where his Gift awakened.

    Q held his breath while he waited for her to call the duel to a start.

    ¡°Begin!¡±

    He shifted to the side immediately, expecting her to strike first. When nothing happened, he watched her in apprehension. Having only dueled his grandparents, he realized that knowing what magic they could cast had become a crutch, one he did not have in this instance.

    Deciding to try to end the match quickly. He pushed magic into his legs and sprinted to the side. He conjured a fireball and threw it at Elara, still standing where they¡¯d started the match. Q changed direction again, this time heading straight for his opponent. He watched his fireball get swatted out of the air as if by a giant, invisible hand.  Telekinesis,  he thought.

    Q channeled his earth manipulation to lift the small dirt particles off the floor, and sent them at Elara with a burst of air. Intending to blind her so he could close the distance. He couldn¡¯t see the barrier she¡¯d created until after he burst out of the dust cloud.

    Wham.

    He didn¡¯t see what struck him, but the impact spun him around, nearly throwing him off balance. He managed to keep his feet by windmilling his arms to steady himself before scrambling toward Elara.

    A tingle of warning shot up his spine and set his hair on end. Q dove to the side and into a roll.  Thud!  Popping back to his feet, Q looked at where he¡¯d been a moment before. He saw what looked like a small metal ball bounce off the floor and whiz out of sight.  She¡¯s controlling the ball mentally!

    He realized that he needed to change his strategy. Q channeled his Elemental magic and combined fire and water, filling the room with steam.

    Good luck hitting what you can¡¯t see.

    Q dropped into a squat and snuck towards where he¡¯d last seen the baroness. He was more cautious this time. Being careful not to walk out into the open if she managed to contain the steam somehow. His slow hunt for the baroness was proving fruitless, and the steam was starting to thin out. Q did not want to waste his energy creating more if it would only turn their duel into a game of cat and mouse.

    Mind racing to come up with a new plan. Q jumped in surprise when Elara spoke from  above  him. ¡°This duel is over. Congratulations, you did better than I expected you to.¡±

    Q looked up, shocked to see the baroness hovering in the air, eight feet off the ground. ¡°How are you  doing  that?¡± He asked, the question bursting out of him.

    Elara¡¯s mouth spread in a cheshire¡¯s grin as she slowly descended to the stone floor. ¡°Practice, Q. Years and years of practice. Now don¡¯t let what  I¡¯m  doing distract from what¡¯s going on around you.¡±

    At her words, Q surveyed the chamber. Noticing for the first time, the half-dozen metal balls spinning around him in a tight circle.

    She¡¯s holding herself aloft while still controlling the metal spheres at the same time. I can¡¯t wait to learn how she managed it.

    When Q discovered his Elemental gift, one of the first questions he asked was if it meant he could learn to fly. Come to find out, several mages had developed various methods of traveling through the air, but few of them offered anything close to what he imagined as true flight. The methods that did, came with the high risk of death should something go wrong. He¡¯d asked why Mind mages couldn¡¯t simply lift themselves up with telekinesis. He was told that they could, but it created a sensation of wrongness that could make the mage physically sick if they tried to do so. Because of that, it was generally understood that telekinetic flight was a bad idea.

    Elara was proving that statement wrong before Q¡¯s very eyes.

    ¡°The Mind Witch doesn¡¯t get to show off what she can do very often, and this is one of her favorites.¡± Cedric said, his voice coming from so close it made Q jump. He hadn¡¯t noticed the young man approach, lost in his stupor.

    ¡°Is she actually using telekinesis to fly? I was told that wasn¡¯t possible.¡±

    Cedric nodded, a look of pride on his face, ¡°It¡¯s the only Gift she has. But if she can¡¯t do it, it can¡¯t be done with Mental magic.¡±

    *****

    An hour later, they were back in the private garden, seated around the outdoor table. Elara had tested a few of Q¡¯s reactionary responses to different actions. Once satisfied, they had left the chamber to clean up and to take refreshments.

    ¡°You have a good grasp of physical augmentation and elemental manipulation. Your ability to cast both and the fact you can already combine elements speaks to your potential. If you continue to improve, you will be a hard fight for the average mage. With the addition of mind magic, that versatility will only increase.¡± Elara said, tapping her chin, ¡°Your mother had Healing in the place of Physical. Those three gifts will all but guarantee you being trained as a battle mage.¡°This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    ¡°Four gifts," Ed interjected. ¡°He can use Transmutation as well.¡±

    Elara¡¯s eyes widened in surprise and a smirk appearing on her face. ¡°Not only did they birth a norm-born, those two had to aim for the stars. Four gifts¡ªYou are going to be quite the catch when that fact gets out.¡± She turned to her son. ¡°Maybe he can take a few of your admirers off your hands.¡±

    Cedric, who had been quiet since praising his mother¡¯s abilities, snapped out of his thoughts. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, mother. I missed what you said.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing more of a joke than anything important. What has you so distracted?¡±

    Cedric leaned back in his chair and asked, ¡°If I was in your place for that duel, I would have lost, wouldn¡¯t I?¡±

    Elara nodded, saying, ¡°Most likely, dear. You may have missed it, but Q can cast Transmutation magic as well. Maybe you two can put those thick heads together and come up with something other than turning your handsome face into that of a monster.¡±

    Cedric tossed the napkin before him at his mother, shaking his head. Q assumed this was a frequent disagreement of theirs, but his interest was piqued. ¡°Are you a shapeshifter, then?¡± In polite society, it would be considered rude to ask about another¡¯s Gifts, but Cedric had already learned what Q could do and he felt sharing in kind to be fair.

    ¡°Yes, I can use Mental, Physical, and Transmutation. I do not have my mother¡¯s ability for Mental magic. I have found that my talents lie in combining the latter.¡°

    Q nodded, his excitement growing. He¡¯d always wanted to see what a shifter could do , but it was not a magic either of his grandparents could do much more than change the color of their eyes. Thinking over his fight with Elara, Q asked, ¡°Could you have blocked my fireball as the baroness did?¡±

    Cedric sighed, ¡°Yes, I could have, but you¡¯ve already grasped where my difficulties in dueling begin. Not having access to Elemental magic, most of my focus is directed toward close-combat. I can use my mother¡¯s trick wielding the metal spheres¡ª¡±

    His words were cut off by his mother clearing her throat.

    ¡°Yes, yes, I know how well you use them, but I can only manage two at a time. And that is if I¡¯m not shifted.¡± Cedric stated, exasperated, ¡°I would be hard pressed to overwhelm someone as you do with¡­ how many are you up to now, Mother, 10, 12?

    Definitely a common argument between these two,  thought Q.

    She waved him off, and he returned his attention to Q. ¡°I mostly use my Mental gift for defense and use my shifted form for offense. Er¡­ Well, that is what I plan to do. I¡¯ve not had many opportunities to spar against other Gifted.¡±

    Q¡¯s grandfather clapped his hands together to grab their attention, ¡°You will get plenty of practice against Q, If your mother chooses to stay and teach. I¡¯d be happy to jump into the dueling ring with you myself from time to time.¡±

    ¡°We will be staying,¡± Elara stated. Looking between the two young men, that lupine-smile returned to her face. ¡°If you want to fight up close and personal, I believe it is time you learned how to do it properly.¡±

    *****

    The next morning found a decidedly unhappy Cedric, squaring off against Q in the training yard. Elara had intended for Cedric to just join Q in his martial training, but Garrick had suggested Q be the one to instruct him. His skills had progressed to the point that he would benefit greatly from the experience of revisiting the basics and teaching someone else.

    The count, countess, and baroness sat on the second-story veranda while enjoying a light breakfast. They watched with mild amusement as Q worked with Cedric on his basic stance, making corrections often.

    ¡°Did Q intend to follow in the Marquess¡¯s footsteps and become the Lord Marshal?¡± Elara asked.

    Ed and Nadine exchanged a look, and Ed answered for them both, ¡°Not exactly, after what happened to his mother and father¡­ I do not believe Q is interested in serving the realm in such a capacity.¡±

    Elara nodded, taking a drink of her morning tea. The idea did not surprise her and if she were in his shoes, she would likely have felt the same. ¡°The fact he¡¯s Gifted, and with so much magical potential, a mindset like that could be dangerous.¡±

    ¡°We know,¡± admitted Nadine, ¡°That¡¯s one reason we want him to make friends and allies before he goes for training.¡±

    ¡°A norm-born traitor¡¯s son on the same level of power as the Archmage? I would say he is going to need more than that.¡±

    Ed sighed. ¡°We are working on that as well. I¡¯ve been pushing it off for as long as I could, but the Archmage, with the backing of the King, is becoming forceful in her demands of the realm¡¯s gifted men doing their duty to serve the kingdom and marrying. I spoke the truth when I said I¡¯d only ever have one wife, but I have been offered a compromise. They will waive the requirement for me if I accept their offer to retake a position on the Council of Mages. I have refused based on principle after our daughter¡¯s murder, but with the appearance of Q¡¯s gift¡­ it may be for the better to have someone on the inside.¡±

    Elara fidgeted in her seat before confessing, ¡°There have been¡ªsuggestions, made regarding both Cedric and I. There have always been requests to be considered for marriage coming in constantly for him, but these¡­ do not carry the same tone. And I¡ªI have also received subtle inquiries regarding my willingness to birth another child, even hinting that marriage may not be required.¡±

    ¡°Stars above,¡± breathed Nadine, ¡°How bad must it be that society has fallen this far?¡±

    Ed covered his wife¡¯s hand with his own. ¡°That tears it. I will send my acceptance immediately.¡± He looked at their guest, adding, ¡°And you, my dear. Can stay here as long as you need. We remember the friendship you shared with our daughter and owe it to her memory to do as she would have done.¡±

    Elara let out a deep breath she hadn¡¯t even realized she¡¯d been holding. Weeks of stress and anxiety leading up to this meeting were finally lifted from her shoulders. ¡°Thank you, thank you both. I will repay your kindness. I will make sure Q is the best Mental mage to attend the Academy since my time as a student.¡±

    The three of them traded a relieved smile before a snort escaped from Ed. Nadine smacked her husband on the shoulder as he tried and failed to stifle a laugh.

    Elara stared at the two with raised eyebrows. ¡°If there was a joke there, I believe I missed it.¡±

    Shaking his head, Ed finally managed to get himself under control. ¡°I am sorry, Elara. I am just happy to have someone else here to try to teach that boy. He ran through the lessons we expected to take years, in a matter of months. Now that you¡¯re here, you¡¯ll get to enjoy the experience of trying to stay ahead of what to teach him.¡±

    The grin that appeared on Elara¡¯s face was not the reaction either of Q¡¯s grandparents would have expected. It made them a little nervous about what they¡¯d signed Q up for.

    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think that will be a problem¡­¡±

 B1C13 - A Budding Friendship Pt. 1

    County Wycliffe

    A metallic  clang  echoed throughout the chamber when the offending piece of metal rolled along its edge until falling flat, settling on the stone floor.

    ¡°Tsk, tsk. And here I thought you were starting to get it, Q.¡± Elara mocked from where she spun five identical coins as they rotated around her in perfect symmetry.

    Q ground his teeth before refocusing on the solitary coin he¡¯d let slip from his mental grasp.

    Over the last year, Q¡¯s training with his grandparents had been tough. He¡¯d dealt with failures, forced to work his way to a solution, or to the realization that he may not be ready for that level of magic,  yet .

    While his grandparents felt comfortable teaching him the basics. Neither of them would ever claim to being experts when it came to magic. Even with Ed having served as on the Council of Mages earlier in life. He was nothing more than a competent mage. Valued more by the Council for his business acumen and people management skills. In recognition of that fact, he chose to abdicate his seat not long after marrying Nadine. Where they could enjoy a more retired life together while they raised Katherine. He wanted to focus on business, and helping the people on his lands thrive, a decision he was proud to have made nearly two decades later.

    Training with Elara was a different beast entirely.

    Their first week working together, was a lesson in frustration for Q. His explanation of how he tapped into his Mental gift was insufficient, and his initial inability to describe it in more detail than, ¡°I focus on the object I want to control and it does what I need it to do,¡± only managed to irritate them both.

    Elara was forced to take a step back from the hands-on training, and start over with the basic understanding of what mental magic actually was. Something that was not well understood in the first place. The fact that each Gift worked differently only exacerbated the issue.

    Through trial and error, they discovered that Q¡¯s method of control fell into what Elara liked to call the extension of self. When he wanted to control something telekinetically, he would visualize the action being performed by a phantom part of himself.

    In the case of the spinning coin, Q was envisioning an invisible hand holding the coin up in the air while it spun on an outstretched finger. His will and intention would keep it spinning, and the visualized hand would keep it aloft. It was when his concentration slipped that the coin would either stop spinning or the hand would lose its grip and let it fall.

    Her mention of the concept of extension of self was the first time he¡¯d ever heard of someone¡¯s method of control being categorized. When he raised the question of if all were quantifiable, her answer surprised him.

    ¡°Most likely, yes. We as people only have so many ways we can interpret and understand the world around us, Q.¡± She¡¯d looked up at the chamber ceiling and let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. ¡°The fact I have one, and  only  one Gift, has made me an expert on all things Mental. I¡¯m sure that I¡¯m not the only mage to become hyper focused on a specific Gift, like Healing for example. But I am confident saying that I know more about my Gift than anyone else alive today. So, yes. I am sure there are a few common control methodologies for each of the Gifts found within Rivenna. I just don¡¯t think anyone else has had the time or inclination to research and compile them like I have. For anyone else, I would even say it was a waste of their time.¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Q remembered frowning at the last statement, not understanding how she could disparage her own work like that. ¡°Why would it be a waste to do what you¡¯ve done? Isn¡¯t it better to know as much about your gift as you can?¡±

    She¡¯d nodded and explained. ¡°Sure, to a point. The commonalities between the methods are really only useful at the beginning of a mage¡¯s path. The farther along it you go and the more complex the magic you try to do, the more your process will have to be tailored to your individual talents. Once you reach a certain level of competence in your gift, does it really matter how  you  personally do it, when your approach wouldn¡¯t work for someone else?¡± Letting out an unladylike snort, she waved her hand and continued. ¡°In the end, A fireball to the face is still a fireball to the face. Who cares if you need a mental image of the fireball traveling through the air or if it¡¯s a string linking where you want it to go and your attack just follows it to the target? Either way, they¡¯d probably still be dead.¡±

    He didn¡¯t see an issue with her logic, so he¡¯d dropped the subject, returning his attention to what she could teach him about extending his metaphysical self.

    ¡°Find your point of focus, Q. Hone in on it until nothing else feels real. Don¡¯t worry about losing track of what¡¯s going on around you. That will come later.¡± Elara instructed, walking around him in a circle. He stared at the glinting metal where it lay, distracted by the gentle  whirring  sounds of Elara¡¯s own projectiles spinning around him.

    A curse came from the other side of the room. The tinkle of metal followed it, striking stone as Cedric lost control of his own silver coin. It glinted in the overhead crystal light, bouncing across the floor. Rather than make another attempt, he chose to ignore it, and instead turned in Q¡¯s direction. He intentionally walked into one of Elara¡¯s coins on his way over. Knocking it off course before it corrected itself and flying back into formation. She sent a mock glare his way before walking off and pulling a book off of a heavily laden stone table.

    Q frowned as the young man collapsed into a pile beside him. Looking up at Q, he said, ¡°Don¡¯t beat yourself up over it. She¡¯s a hardass.¡±

    ¡°I heard that!¡± Called his mother without looking up from the book in her hand.

    Grinning, Cedric waved her comment off. ¡°Seriously, I¡¯ve been doing this same exercise for over a year, and I am only just now getting enough control to do it correctly. She is  not  who you should be using as a gauge when it comes to how a normal person wields telekinesis.¡±

    That revelation helped a little to soothe Q¡¯s bruised ego. Over the past few weeks, he had come to learn that Cedric was willing to work hard to improve his abilities. When a task was set before him, he worked just as diligently as Q to see it done right. His problem was that his thoroughness did not extend much beyond that. If it did not pertain to his Gifts, Cedric was rather lazy. Preferring to sit back and relax while doing his best to enjoy himself. He was also an honest and a generally nice person that tried to share that joy with those around him. It made him pleasant to spend time with,  if  you could deal with the occasions his carefree tongue got him into trouble.

    In one such instance, Q¡¯s grandfather had called them both into his office for a lesson on what  was  and was  not  appropriate to say to a servant after Cedric told one of the maids she was ¡°looking pleasantly plump today.¡± He hadn¡¯t intended it as an insult, and come to find out, the young woman was actually pregnant, but Ed had taken it as an opportunity to reaffirm how a man of noble birth was expected to deal with the fairer sex, regardless of social class or noble rank.

    Elara put them through such a grueling session after she¡¯d learned of the incident, that neither of them would ever forget the debilitating headache they¡¯d been forced to endure. As annoyed as he was by their punishment, Q couldn¡¯t find it within himself to stay angry at the idiot who had quickly wormed his way into the small group of people Q enjoyed to be around. What it did, other than bring them closer together through mutual suffering, was affirm Q¡¯s decision to watch out for Cedric, and do what he could to keep that mouth of his under control.

 B1C13 - A Budding Friendship Pt. 2

    County Wycliffe

    Nearby Settlement

    The Vaelmara¡¯s had been staying at the Wycliffe Estate for a few months now, and in that time, a true friendship had formed between Q and Cedric. Neither had been raised with siblings, nor did they spend much time around other children growing up. The opportunity to interact with someone their own age being a novelty. The fact that they each had something to teach the other helped plant the seed of friendship.

    That day, Q¡¯s grandfather had requested he visit a nearby settlement to deal with a dispute over cattle, and Cedric had requested to join him for the trip. They rode side-by-side, surrounded by a small guard contingent led by Garrick.

    ¡°Did you plan to join the army for your term of service? Is that why you took up learning how to fight?" Asked Cedric between bites of the trail ration he¡¯d brought as a snack.

    Q shook his head. ¡°No, I think I wanted to learn because my father knew how. I hadn¡¯t even thought about what I¡¯d do during my service when I started training.¡±

    ¡°I guess it helped, always knowing what I¡¯d be doing. I¡¯m honestly excited about the chance to prove myself.¡± Pausing to drink from his waterskin, Cedric continued. ¡°Mother won¡¯t say it, but I know she¡¯s disappointed that I don¡¯t have her skills.¡±

    Cedric caught himself before he asked Q a question about his own gift. It had required a mental shift for him to remember he needed to be careful where he discussed the topic. Looking at the guards surrounding them, his thoughts wandered to a related, but relatively safer, subject.

    ¡°How do you feel about the whole marriage issue?¡± Cedric whispered, leaning close so his voice wouldn¡¯t carry.

    ¡°Absolutely terrified,¡± admitted Q with a shutter. ¡°I heard one of the guards saying that a man only  suspected  of being gifted was chased out of a town in a neighboring county. Apparently, there were too many husbands worried about their wives stepping out on them, hoping to try for the Crown¡¯s gold. The man was forced to flee as soon as the rumor of his Gift started and the mob began to form.¡±

    Cedric whistled. This being the first he¡¯d heard of it. ¡°I¡¯ve read a few of mother¡¯s letters. Nobles will send her flowery well-wishes, but each and every one of them will hint at having a daughter or a niece they would like me to meet. It makes me almost consider getting it out of the way just to get the target off my back.¡±

    Q hadn¡¯t given the idea of marriage much thought over the last few years, focusing more on his training. But if he were honest with himself, he  had  started to take notice of the fairer sex more and more as of late. He could still remember the love and affection within his parents'' marriage, and saw much the same between his grandparents. He wanted that for himself, but his grandparents made sure he was aware that the new laws made the chances of that happening slim to none.

    They arrived at the settlement just after midday. The Headman and a few of the senior villagers were there to greet them near the village center. Q could see a pair of young boys running in separate directions, and he assumed they were off to fetch the disputing parties. Their group dismounted, and the welcoming party bowed to Q, saying, ¡°You grace us with your presence, my Lord.¡±

    The man appeared nervous. He likely assumed that the grievance would be beneath the Count¡¯s time. With an administrator being sent to handle the matter on the Count¡¯s behalf. Not send a direct member of his family to pass judgment. He would have been correct, but Q suspected that his grandfather wanted him in front of the populace, and to put a face to his name.

    ¡°It was no hardship, Headman. Your village was only a few hours'' ride. I am grateful for the opportunity to stretch my legs and take in the fresh air.¡± In fact, the settlement did smell decently clean. There was no way to truly combat the smells of so much livestock, but they did their part in keeping the area clean.

    He bowed his head before announcing, ¡°I have sent for the two involved, my Lord. They should be here soon.¡±

    Q filled the time with questions for the man about the year¡¯s harvest, and the recent weather patterns experienced in their area. His astute and honest interest in the Headman¡¯s answers was a pleasant surprise to someone born and raised in the village. It was a home he was proud of and he was happy to see his young lord taking an interest in it. A short time later, the Headman¡¯s estimation proved correct, when a man came running through the settlement.

    By the time the runner came to a halt, he was gasping for air. As soon as he caught his breath, he began to speak, ¡°My Lord, thank you for coming. That no good¡ª¡±

    Q raised his hand, silencing the man. ¡°What is your name, Farmer..?¡±

    Taken aback, the man blinked a few times before answering, ¡°It is Gavin, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. Now Farmer Gavin, I will not hear a word about the dispute until the other party is present. I expect you would appreciate the same kindness if you were in their place. Am I correct?¡±

    Looking sheepish, Gavin bowed his head in embarrassment. ¡°Yes, my apologies, my Lord.¡±

    ¡°Good, I am glad we have an understanding.¡± Q said, putting an end to the matter. Their group lapsed into silence, and Q took advantage of that to listen to the mutterings of those around them.

    It was an ability Q had learned from Cedric early in their time training together. Late one evening, Cedric described how he¡¯d learned to channel magic into his ears, amplifying the sounds he could hear. It was a spell he¡¯d created to eavesdrop on his over-protective mother. Q was using it now to get an unfiltered sense of the villagers and their opinions.

    ¡°It¡¯s about time this got resolved. I¡¯m tired of hearing those two piss and moan to anyone who¡¯d listen.¡± Mumbled one man.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Another, this one decidedly feminine, whispered conspiratorially. ¡°My¡ªmy, but aren¡¯t those two a pair of handsome ones? Wouldn¡¯t it be nice if they turned out to be gifted, and you had an excuse to make a pass?¡±

    Q lost his concentration on the casting and felt the heat rush to his face. Cedric noticed his blush and looked around in confusion. Q tapped his ear, earning a grin from the other man. He quickly forgot his embarrassment when a few moments later, a second man appeared, sprinting down the lane. Coming to a stop before the official party. He bent over, heaving like a bellows.

    ¡°Take a moment.¡± Said Q, ¡°We haven¡¯t started yet.¡±

    ¡°Thank¡­ You¡­ my Lord.¡± The man said between breaths.

    Once it was clear that the man could stand upright, Q asked for introductions. ¡°My name is Percy, er¡ªPercival, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Well met, Percy.¡± Q said before moving to address the assembled villagers. ¡°I am Earl Quinten Ashford, here at the request of my grandfather, Count Wycliffe, to settle the dispute between Farmers Gavin and Percy. We will start with the aggrieved party.¡±

    Pausing for a deep breath, Gavin stepped forward and shared his tale. To hear him tell it, for some time now, Percy¡¯s cattle had been trespassing into Gavin¡¯s land. Continuing to do so even after repeated requests from Gavin for Percy to contain his livestock. They continued to enjoy Gavin¡¯s lush field. Percy¡¯s cattle had completely grazed down the paddock that Gavin claimed he needed to feed his flock of sheep later in the year.

    Q turned to Percy and began to question him, ¡°Have your cattle been trespassing on the land managed by your neighbor, Gavin?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes, my Lord, but¡ª¡± Percy began, but Q cut him off with a raised hand.

    Giving the man an encouraging smile, Q said. ¡°Just answer the questions. You¡¯ll have your time to explain. You have my word.¡±

    With a sigh, Percy nodded his understanding and answered, ¡°Yes, my Lord. They were on his land.¡±

    ¡°Did they graze the field he is referring to?¡±

    ¡°They did, my Lord.¡±

    Q could tell that each question excited Gavin more and more, seeing each response as a nail in Percy¡¯s coffin.

    ¡°Have you made an attempt to constrain your cattle to your own lands?¡±

    ¡°I have, my lord,¡± Percy responded with a wave of his hands, exasperation clear in his tone.

    ¡°Then why do your cattle keep ending up in Gavin¡¯s fields?¡±

    ¡°Because, my Lord! They walk right through his star-blasted broken fence!¡± Percy answered, his voice rising with his sense of injustice. The village spectators gasped at the revelation and murmurs broke out.

    Q faced Gavin with a raised brow. He could see it as sweat began to bead along the man¡¯s forehead.

    ¡°You did not mention the fence separating your properties was broken.¡±

    Gavin¡¯s eyes tracked the watching faces, and he licked his lips nervously. ¡°Well¡­ yes, your Lordship. I keep meaning to fix it, but I just haven¡¯t had the coin to do it.¡±

    Q nodded and looked at the two men. He let them suffer in silence as he deliberated. Q had an idea of the cost of repairing a broken fence, the likely loss in weight gain of Gavin¡¯s sheep, and the value of a well-fed cow.

    Confident in his decision, Q cast his verdict. ¡°By the authority granted to me by the Count of these lands, I make the following decision.¡±

    It was the first time Q had made a public ruling. The weight of so many eyes and opinions settled on him, bringing with them a novel sense of discomfort.

    ¡°Farmer Percival, you will provide Farmer Gavin with a quarter-share of one head of cattle for damages.¡±

    Percy¡¯s fists clenched in anger, and a smile broke out across Gavin¡¯s face.

    Don¡¯t count your chickens just yet,  thought Q.

    The crowd burst out in argument over the ruling, divided by those fore and against. Q raised his hand once more for silence, but the villagers either did not notice or did not care.

    ¡°SILENCE!¡± Roared Cedric, augmenting his voice to project over the yelling.

    The sound echoed off the nearby structures, and then, like the calm after a thunderclap, silence settled over the village.

    ¡°Thank you, Baron Vaelmara. Now, as I was saying, You will provide Farmer Gavin a quarter of a cow to support him and his family for the next few months. He will need it to offset the expense of repairing the fence between your properties, and the lower price he will get for his sheep next year because of the loss of forage this winter. The higher price you will get per pound on your cattle will go a long way to reimburse you the cost.¡±

    There were still grumbles on both sides, but no one could fault Q¡¯s logic, nor his explanation. More importantly, his word on the matter was final.

    Q and his group did not remain in the settlement for long after the ruling was made. Garrick subtly approached Q and Cedric, recommending they leave quickly. Cedric¡¯s actions silencing the crowd had not gone unnoticed. The guards had heard the term gifted, used more than once.

    As they rode away, Cedric couldn¡¯t help but ask, ¡°Why did you decide as you did? Was it not the sheep herders'' fault for not repairing the fence from the start?¡±

    Q thought over the best way to phrase why he ruled as he had. ¡°You are right, it was mostly the fault of the sheepherder. He will be the poorer from the verdict, don¡¯t be mistaken. It will cost him more to repair the fence than the cattle farmer will loose from that quarter of beef. But, next year the fence will be fixed and they will not have the same issue. The reason I punished the cattleman as well was that he could have fixed the fence on his own or worked with his neighbor to accomplish it together. He chose not to, and as a result carried some of the blame.¡± Scratching the side of his head, Q continued, ¡°It goes back to a saying my Grandfathers like to use and both agree with. When making a ruling. If it stops the problem and neither side is happy, you¡¯ve likely made the right one.¡±

 B1C14 - This Means War

    Marches of Westlund

    Western Plains

    Bringing his horse to a full gallop, Marquess Henry Ashford led his men in a charge. Bursting from their mage¡¯s screening, they rode directly into the path of the enemy. A rise in the plains gave them the chance to disappear from sight, and allowed their Core mage to create a long, thin barrier using Mental magic. Effectively hiding their movements from the Drakovian raiding party.

    Upon cresting the hill, Henry saw the opportunity and moved his men into formation as quickly as he could. He held the soldiers steady and waited for the mage¡¯s signal that her illusion was about to drop. She¡¯d warned him it would not last long, and he just had to hope the Drakovians would get close enough that he and his patrol could catch them in a charge before blowing their horses.

    They were too far away to see the surprise on the enemy''s face when they appeared out of thin air, heading right toward the Drakovians with their weapons drawn. Henry still pictured it in his mind as their eyes widened, their signal horn sputtering as it called a retreat.

    It¡¯s going to be close,  he thought. The enemy was already wheeling around.

    Lifting his sword overhead, he yelled, ¡°For Rivenna!¡± Urging his horse onward with another burst of speed.

    Ffft.

    Ffft, ffft. ffft.

    One of the qualities that made the Horsemen of Drakovia so dangerous was the ability to stay mobile and still inflict damage on their enemy. The sound of arrows flying past set Henry¡¯s hair on end. He ducked behind his shield and leaned low, trying to make himself as small as possible. Doing his best to stay in the saddle while his horse thundered through the long grass that hid uneven ground. Arrows whipped past him, and Henry could hear the screams of men and horses as they found their targets.

    The waiting was the worst part. In moments like this, it was up to the stars who lived and who died. There was nothing any of them could do to change their fates.

    It took what felt like hours, but could have only been ten to twenty seconds for Henry to clear the killing field and make it within striking distance of the enemy. The Drakovian struggled to case his bow and draw the sword tied to his horse. His decision to try to do both at once would be the last mistake he ever made. Henry¡¯s sword stabbed out, catching the man low in the back, and punching through and out the other side. The strike likely severed the spine, but with a twist of the sword. Henry ensured the man would bleed out, regardless. He left his enemy to his fate, already slashing at his next target.

    This Drakovian was better prepared, having already drawn his curved blade. The two met, weapons clashing off shields, and their horses doing their best to shoulder each other aside. Henry leaned   back in the saddle, letting his attacker¡¯s slash go wide. Lunging forward in an ugly, but efficient chop that Henry had perfected over the years, took the man''s sword-hand off at the wrist. His blade hitting bone with a hollow  tock  sound. The Drakovian screamed, and grasped at his severed hand where blood spurt from the stump in long arcs.. Henry showed no mercy, and his follow-up strike split the man¡¯s face in two. Blood and brains bursting from around the sharp edge as it split fragile human flesh.

    Henry lost all sense of self, and his world turned into a dance of metal and death. Just as it always had during battle. The pained screams of man and beast became the backdrop and accompanying arrangement. The ringing of steel on steel was the music that carried him through the beat of each bloody exchange and from one moment to the next.

    It was a short and savage encounter. The Drakovians who managed to stay clear of the Rivennan charge veered wide, choosing to make their escape instead of fighting. Those either too slow or unlucky enough to be chased down and caught were killed. A short time later, Henry walked the battlefield with his men, Offering aid where they could, and granting mercy to those beyond saving by sending them to the stars. Surveying the field, his years of experience told Henry that most of their casualties were a result of crossing the archer¡¯s killing field.

    Five or six of our own lost. Still, we managed to kill nearly twice as many of them as they did us.

    This was the third raiding party Henry¡¯s men had encountered in as many months. The first was nearly a total loss, with only two men making it back from the 20 man patrol. The second had fared better, but it had still lost nearly half its number while inflicting the same on the raiders. After the second attack, Henry decided that he needed to see for himself what was going on. Choosing to join as many of the patrols as he could, having completed several without incident already. He¡¯d gotten lucky when he decided to request a member of the Mage Core join them on today¡¯s patrol. Her Gift had saved lives, maybe even his own.

    When they finished scouring the battlefield for their wounded, and the men finished looting their spoils, the patrol sergeant approached Henry and nodded his head in respect to the man. A change Henry had made early on in his time as the Lord Marshal was to ban all forms of courtly pomp while on the battlefield. There was no better target for an archer than a noble¡¯s ass when bowing to their superior.

    ¡°My Lord, we are ready to return to town, if you are.¡±

    With one last look at the battle''s aftermath, Henry gave the soldier a once over before asking, ¡°Sergeant, how long have you been running patrols?¡±

    Considering the question, the man shifted his head from side to side. ¡°Nearly eight years, my Lord.¡±

    Henry nodded, ¡°And in those eight years, do you ever remember seeing Drakovians looking this¡ªwretched?¡±

    He couldn¡¯t help but notice while walking through the dead, just how underfed and thin the Drakovians looked. Their equipment, usually well taken care of, appeared worn. And their leathers, normally made of a single piece, were a patchwork of repairs.

    ¡°No¡­ my Lord. I cannot say that I have. This lot does look a bit mangy, now that you mention it.¡± The sergeant said, the words coming slowly as he worked through his own thoughts.

    Henry sighed. ¡°I was worried you would say that.¡± Shoving his helmet back atop his head. He took off a gore-soaked glove and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut.

    ¡°Does that mean something, my Lord?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Unfortunately, it does. Most don¡¯t know this, but the Marquesses of the Western Marches have always kept detailed journals going back as long as the title itself. I¡¯ve read many of them, and something like this seems to occur every couple of decades. If I¡¯m right, then the Drakovians have chosen a new Warlord, which only means one thing for us¡ªwar.¡±

    *****

    Capital City of Gremelda

    Royal Palace

    The realization that a season¡¯s time was not enough for the taint of his last visit to fade came as Henry walked into the main audience hall of the palace. In a show of petty defiance, his petition to see the king was granted, but instead of it taking place in one of the private audience rooms or even the King¡¯s Council Chambers. The king had chosen to grant his request here, in front of all who could attend.

    For his part, Henry did not mind the extra ears. They would help spread the news across the realm, serving him and his purpose, regardless of the king¡¯s reaction to the news.

    Court had already been in session when Henry was called forward. It was a slight in its own right, making a man of his rank wait to be heard. Stopping before the king, he knelt.

    You can¡¯t even see the scorch marks from where they died. Freddy likely had a mage reform the floor to hide his shame.  Henry thought as stomach acid burned the back of his throat.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Welcome, Marquess Ashford, and be recognized by your Liege, King Frederick the Grand and his Court.¡± Cried the herald.

    Rising to his feet, Henry surveyed the throne where the King and Queen sat. Bowing his head, he began to speak. ¡°Thank you, your Majesties, for granting me an audience today. I have come on a matter of dire concern.¡±

    ¡°It was less than a year ago that you rejected our request of taking back the title of Lord Marshal in service to the Realm¡­ And now, you come to us asking for help? What could be so dire that it brought you crawling back?¡± The King asked, his sense of satisfaction nearly tangible.

    ¡°Yes, sire, I denied your request. For the same reason, I would still do so today. I am no longer able to fulfill the role to the best of my abilities,¡± Henry stated, keeping his voice level and expression calm. His words still managed to set the audience a blaze with whispers over what they could mean.

    ¡°Silence,¡± ordered the king, unhappy to have his barbs deflected so easily. ¡°What is this  dire  matter you bring before your King?¡± He asked.

    ¡°The Western Plains are in a frenzy, your majesty. Drakovian raids have tripled in frequency. With attacks pushing deeper into our boarders than they have in decades. They are raping, pillaging, and enslaving the people from our farms and villages as we speak.¡±

    The king raised a brow, and Henry prepared himself for another cutting remark.

    ¡°Can you not defend your own lands, Marquess? How is this different from any other year the Drakovians decide to test our borders?¡±

    Keeping his expression neutral. The former Lord Marshal replied, ¡°Measures have been taken to secure the Western Marshes, your majesty. If I thought this was just another year¡¯s raids, the men I have called up would be enough. If not, my neighboring Lords and Ladies would answer my call for aid.¡± Pausing, Henry met and held the king¡¯s gaze. ¡°No, your majesty. I am here today to warn the Crown and the Realm. I believe a new Warlord has risen in the West, and I believe he brings war to Rivenna.¡±

    *****

    ¡°Are you  mad! ¡± The king hissed, pacing up and down the council room where he¡¯d ordered Henry to attend him after his announcement, and runners raced throughout the palace to gather the council for an emergency meeting.

    The Queen entered the room a moment later. She¡¯d remained behind to settle the court in its upheaval. Glaring at Henry, she admonished, ¡°The court¡¯s finest jester could not have handled that better. Could you not have asked to discuss this in private, Henry?¡±

    The man in question continued to stare at the wall, refusing to look at the king, ¡°I did¡­ your majesty.¡±

    The queen frowned, put the pieces together, and turned her glare on her husband as his face turned an interesting shade of red.

    Fifteen minutes passed before the seats surrounding the council table were filled. When the Minister of the Interior arrived, Henry had to physically restrain himself. Gripping one hand with the other behind his back to stop himself from drawing his belt knife and attacking.

    ¡°Sit down, Henry. Lord Marshal or not, I don¡¯t want to stare up at you this entire meeting.¡± Ordered the king as he sat back in his own chair.

    Reluctantly, Henry lowered himself into his old seat and couldn¡¯t help but feel like it was a mistake.

    ¡°For those of you who were not in the main audience hall for Court. Marquess Ashford announced to those present that he believes a new Warlord has risen in the West, and that we should prepare for battle.¡± The king explained to the council.

    Several of the council traded looks, but Henry could tell that none of them were too surprised by the news.

    ¡°We knew it would happen, your majesty. We did a poor job of hiding our losses, and the Marriage Edict only highlighted our long-term problem. It would seem that the Drakovians have taken notice and now seek to take advantage with this Warlord.¡± Stated Countess Isla, the Minister of the Exterior.

    Henry fought back the urge to smile at the slight dig towards her counterpart in the Interior.

    The king rubbed the bridge of his nose, asking, ¡°Can we afford a war with the Drakovians?¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t afford not too, your majesty,¡± the Minister of Coin answered. ¡°It is where most of the wheat we use throughout the kingdom is grown, and where our best livestock graze.¡±

    ¡°If the Drakovians truly breach our western border, it would open up the rest of the kingdom to their savagery. We would risk losing much more than just wheat and livestock, your Majesty,¡± Duke Wyndham said, jumping into the discussion.

    Taking the opportunity while everyone else¡¯s eyes pointed in the same direction. Henry surveyed the Duke. A tall man. Near Julian¡¯s age if he was still alive. Alistair looked several years younger than the forty summers he knew the man to be. A mage, and according to rumor, one of the first to take up a second and even third wife after the new edicts went into effect. Earning himself a new moniker, The Horny Duke.

    The kings next question brought Henry¡¯s focus back to the discussion.

    ¡°How will the nobility react to a Call to Arms?¡± The question, directed to the Peerage Speaker, was met with hemming and hawing.

    ¡°That is tough to say, your majesty. Some will be for it, believing their men are getting fat and need to be reminded why they owe fealty to their lords. Others will oppose it, stating a lack of trained men and supplies.¡±

    The king, hearing the answer for what it was, cut to the heart of the matter. ¡°Then you had better do your part to get them all on the same page. Regardless of what they want. If the Marquess is correct, war is approaching.¡±

    Standing up from the table, he looked at each of his council members and said, ¡°Send word that the Crown is putting out an official Call to Arms. Each member of the Peerage is expected to supply their required Due Service in a month¡¯s time. I want men assembled and marching toward the western border within two. The General Levy will follow with all haste. Now, see to your duties.¡±

    With a clear dismissal, the Council rose, bowing collectively to the King and Queen before making their exit.

    Henry attempted to follow suit, when the king''s voice cut across the sound of shuffling feet.

    ¡°Marquess Ashford, if you would stay for a moment. There is still one item we need to discuss.¡±

    He could not tell what it was in the man¡¯s voice or maybe his tone. That set his hair on end, but Henry felt his hackles begin to rise. He turned back toward the king and queen, stepping to the side while the council filtered out. Henry waited as the Minister of Coin exited the room, already dreading whatever conversation was about to take place.

    ¡°If there is to be war, the kingdom of Rivenna will need a Lord Marshal to fight it,¡± the king said slowly, staring at Henry like a hawk would a mouse.

    ¡°Does the realm not have a new Lord Marshal, your majesty? I heard that Count Rageborn was appointed to the position.¡±

    The king scoffed, ¡°Rageborn, more like pussyborn. He was too busy wetting his wick with anyone that wanted a gifted child to actually lead anything. He has been removed.¡±

    Henry felt his cheeks redden at the comment but pushed through his embarrassment, hoping to deny what he could feel coming, coiling around him like a snake. ¡°I am sorry to hear of the matter your majesty, I am sure someone new can be found.¡±

    Nodding, the king admitted, words dripping with contempt, ¡°O, worry not, Henry. We have someone for the position, but I¡¯m afraid it is not someone new. No¡­ It is  you  who will be taking back up the mantle of the Lord Marshal. You will lead our Kingdom¡¯s army and defeat those horse fucking savages.¡±

    Henry took a step back at the venom carried in the king¡¯s words.

    ¡°But, Sire, I have told you why I¡ª¡±

    The king shot to his feet and raised a hand, silencing Henry as he felt the king¡¯s Gift wrap around his throat, cutting off his ability to breathe. ¡°Silence!¡±  He hissed. ¡°You were supposed to come to me today and ask to be Lord Marshal, to defend our kingdom once more. You were supposed to eat some crow and take a bit of a proverbial lashing.¡±

    Henry was physically dragged forward until he was face to face with the king. His knees starting to grow weak, struggling to hold his weight as he ran out of air. ¡°But no!  You  have dared to defy your King! I  let  you have your way because of the mistake I made killing your son. I  allowed  you your pride when you threw my offer to become Lord Marshal back in my face, when it was offered. No, Henry, my Lord Marshal, your time to grieve is over. You will do as commanded, or I will call that grandson you love so much into service, and I will send him at the heart of the enemy, time and time again, until he either dies or he kills them all. Do I make myself clear?¡±

 B1C15 - One Night In A Tavern Pt. 1

    County Wycliffe

    Magic Chamber

    ¡°Come now, Q! You aren¡¯t scared of a few norms, are you?¡± Taunted Cedric, wiping the sweat from his brow. They had been practicing their telekinesis for the last half hour, and they were both covered in a fine layer of perspiration.

    Elara believed that for young mages just learning how to use their Gifts, they needed a regiment of training that would improve both, the strength their mind could apply, and increase their level of finesse. Elara¡¯s favorite exercise, the spinning and rotating coins, quickly increased in difficulty, as the patterns she demanded they follow, grew increasingly complex.

    Q and Cedric were fairly well matched. Though, Q was quickly catching up and in some ways, surpassing his friend. Considering that Cedric was already a year into his study of Mental magic, the difference in their capabilities proved why he had chosen to focus on his other gifts instead. That did not mean he hadn¡¯t improved, just that when compared to Q, it was clear where his real abilities lay. He could now manage up to three objects at once if he kept them moving in a basic shape. Q, meanwhile, could manage five projectiles in what Elara considered patterns of middling difficulty.

    Luckily for Cedric, today was geared toward training their Mental strength, which likely led to his friend¡¯s cheery mood.

    ¡°It¡¯s my sixteenth name day. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s worthy of a celebration.¡± Argued Q, preparing for the next round.

    Focusing their minds on the half-full containers of dirt. They each lifted their box to roughly waist height before holding them in place, continuing to do so until they reached failure, and were forced to drop their heavy load. The fact they were able to do this much at their age was something Elara claimed they should be proud of.

    ¡°Well, I think it¡¯s an important milestone¡­ Aaaaand if you¡¯d been with me on  my  sixteenth name day, you would agree with me,¡± Cedric said with a grin.

    Q, blushing at the thought, scrambled for a comeback and something to divert the conversation. He finally settled on, ¡°If you can talk, you can add more weight.¡± A favored saying of Elara¡¯s that Q knew her son hated.

    It worked for the moment. This was a topic that had come up more and more frequently as of late. A few months prior,, Cedric had been off with his mother, checking in on their own lands. One night during their travels, he¡¯d slipped away. Taking the opportunity to visit a nearby tavern to celebrate his name day with live music and ale. The merry tunes and the strong drink led him and an equally drunk barmaid, to his first time with a woman. And to hear him tell it, becoming a man. He¡¯d made it his goal to convince Q to visit a tavern for his own night of revelry and fun ever since. Q was ashamed to admit it, but his friend would likely get his way.

    Panting, Q struggled under the mental strain of the heavy box. He couldn¡¯t tell if he was caving because of Cedric¡¯s relentless pestering or if it was the promise of a carefree night, despite knowing better, that had finally swayed him. Either way, he found himself offering, ¡°I¡¯ll make you a deal. If you can go another round with an extra 10 pounds, we¡¯ll visit town.¡±

    Cedric grinned and slapped him on the back. ¡°Deal! Now go toss in some more dirt. We don¡¯t have all day. I need to pick out what to wear, and you need a shower. I can¡¯t have you showing up, smelling like that.¡±

    *****

    Cedric led Q, Garrick, and their two additional guards through town. Q had been through several cities over the years, but he was always interested in the variety of people and various items for sale whenever he traveled. Q could recognize the fact that he was fortunate to be born into a family with means, let alone one of noble blood. Money had never been a concern as a child, and he¡¯d inherited much from his parents after they¡¯d passed. He still received an income from the Earldom he¡¯d inherited from his father. Even though it was currently being managed by his grandfather Henry, who refused to take anything as payment. Henry instead told Q to invest it, something he did with his grandfather Ed¡¯s advice.

    They stabled their horses and approached the promised tavern. Q could hear music coming through the walls, and when the door opened, the sound poured out like a raging river. The place buzzed with energy. It¡¯s mismatched wooden beams and flickering lanterns invited just the right ambiance to instill a feeling of mischief and possible adventure.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°Tonight is going to be life changing, don¡¯t you worry, my friend!¡± Cedric called back to Q, leading him toward a free table. . Garrick and his men split off, taking seats at a table near the door, where they could keep tabs on their charges and see the whole room.

    The next several hours were spent in a blur. Between the drink, the dancing, and the merriment, Q was having a great time.

    ¡°She¡¯s the one.¡± His friend declared, leaning over the table and poking Q in the chest. ¡°See how she keeps touching your arm and leaning in close? Even telling you her name. She¡¯s the one!¡± Claimed Cedric. He was a few cups deeper than Q by this point, and talking much louder than he likely meant to.

    Ducking his head, Q tried to hide his blush. But he was feeling the alcohol, and couldn¡¯t lie to himself that he hoped his friend was right.

    Q¡¯s largest concern with losing his virginity revolved around the chance of pregnancy. The thought of growing up without his father burned deep in his chest and was not a fate he would force on a child. He¡¯d made the decision not to have any bastards of his own running around, regardless of the King¡¯s Edict, making it socially acceptable.

    When Cedric had first told him of his night, Q remembered bringing up the possibility of him getting the woman pregnant. Cedric quickly shushed him, leaning in close, he whispered, ¡°Sssh! That¡¯s not something I have to worry about. Um¡­ a few years ago, I found an old book in our library that described how a man could use their Physical gift to turn on and off their ability to have children. I¡¯ve practiced the method a few times, and I couldn¡¯t feel any issues. My birthday was my first time actually using it, but as far as I could tell¡­? it worked perfectly. But, uh¡ªI¡¯ve heard that any hint of magic like it has made the banned list.¡±

    Q looked at his friend in confusion, ¡°I didn¡¯t even know there was a list of banned magic.¡±

    ¡°There are a few. Mind mages are the most notorious. Just the accusation that a mage took control of someone with their Mental gift has resulted in several mages being killed in the past. And The Council of Mages really does not want anyone going around transmuting someone¡¯s skin or blood into something else. Apparently, it sends a bad message to the norms. The banned list isn¡¯t something they talk about much. I think they¡¯re hoping that if it isn¡¯t common knowledge, no one will think to use their Gifts in such ways.¡± Answered Cedric.

    Q nodded. That made a disturbing amount of sense. ¡°Hmm¡­ I bet sex magic wasn¡¯t banned before the King¡¯s Edict went into effect. They probably banned it because they want as many gifted children as they can,¡± Q said, puzzling out the logic. Hesitating for a moment, he asked, ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to still have the book, would you..?¡±

    Q¡¯s musings were cut short when the doors were shoved open and three young men walked in. Nobles by their quality of dress, they were a stark contrast to what most in the tavern were wearing. Q and Cedric themselves decided not to dress like nobles and instead chose to wear clean and serviceable workwear. Aiming to be seen as two regular young men out to have a good time, and not the young mages they were.

    Q tapped the table to get Cedric¡¯s attention. Nodding toward the men pushing through the crowd on their way to a nearby table.

    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you recognize any of them?¡± He asked.

    Cedric squinted and shook his head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. They don¡¯t look familiar, but it appears they had the same idea we did. Let¡¯s hope they don¡¯t turn out to be a bunch of assholes. I¡¯d hate to see you lose your chance with the young lady.¡± Cedric said with a grin. Q kicked his friend under the table, earning him a laugh.

    Another hour passed without incident, and Q finally started to relax. He still felt a sense of nervous anxiety, but it had lessened as the night wore on and the ale continued to flow.

    The barmaid, Vera, with whom he¡¯d been trading glances with all evening, walked by their table and shot him a smile in passing. Gathering his courage, Q reached out and snagged her wrist. Letting go once he was sure he had her attention, he ask, ¡°Will you get a break soon?¡±

    Vera¡¯s smile widened, highlighting her cheeks when they reddened in an attractive blush. ¡°I have one coming up in the next fifteen minutes. As long as this place doesn¡¯t go crazy in the meantime.¡± Giving him a smirk, she asked, ¡°and just what would a handsome young man like you want with a simple barmaid like me?¡±

    Q¡¯s own blush burned so hot, it felt like his face had caught fire. She laughed at his innocence, but placed a hand over his on the table and said, ¡°I¡¯ll come grab you when my break starts. You have a room here, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Unable to speak, Q just nodded.

    She hit him with another grin, this one with a little more heat, and said, ¡°Good, I¡¯ll be back as quick as I can.¡±

    Cedric, who had somehow managed to remain quiet by biting his fist the whole time, waited until Vera disappeared into the crowd before he let his amusement burst out in a roar of laughter. Q had never seen the man laugh so hard. Tears and a bit of snot ran freely down his clean-shaven face. Taking a deep swallow of ale, Q placed the drink to his cheek, hoping its cool glass could counter the heat of embarrassment filling his face.

    He will never let me forget this, Q thought. Looking up from the table, he saw Vera smiling at him from across the room.  Stars above, maybe it¡¯ll be worth it.

 B1C15 - One Night In A Tavern Pt. 2

    The next fifteen minutes dragged on for Q. The wait only giving his nerves more time to act up, the longer it took for Vera to reappear. Cedric did his part to keep Q distracted and was only partially successful. He could feel his palms start to sweat, and his renewed anxiety had him wiping them on his breeches. Finishing his ale, he felt relieved when he saw her making her way through the crowd. Rising from the table, he nodded at Cedric, asking his friend to excuse him. The wink he received in reply set his stomach fluttering.

    Reaching his side, Vera slid her arm through his and pulled him toward the stairs and his rented room. They managed to pass two tables before an arm snaked out, blocking their path. With an internal groan, Q followed the offending appendage back to its owner, and recognized one of the nobles from earlier.

    Of course, it¡¯s the fat one,  Q thought. Watching the young man stand from his table. He stood of a rough height with Q, but probably weighed half again as much, none of it from muscle. Q noticed the suspected Lord, who appeared to be right around his and Cedric¡¯s age, was also a little wobbly on his feet from too much to drink.

    Slurring his words slightly, the man said, ¡°Excuse me, serving girl, I¡¯ve been watching you all evening, and thought I would ask you to join me for the night.¡± His smile drooping with the lack of feeling in his face.

    Leaning back, Vera pressed her body into Q¡¯s. With a bow of her head, she said, ¡°I am sorry, my Lord. I have already made plans for the evening.¡±

    The man sucked his teeth, looking between Vera and Q for a long moment. Turning back to his friends, who were still watching from their table, he said. ¡°She already has plans. Do you hear that, lads?¡±

    With a glance at Q, the two began to laugh. With one of them commenting, ¡°I wonder if you can change her mind, Reginald.¡±

    The sense of unease he felt earlier came back, even stronger now. Moving forward, Q shifted Vera behind him.

    Noticing the movement, Reginald let out a snort, saying, ¡°Don¡¯t worry! I mean the girl no harm. If anything, I aim to improve her lot in life.¡±

    He leaned forward conspiratorially and held out a hand with a finger extended. Cupping his other hand around it to block it from view, he conjured a small flame on the tip of his finger.

    Q¡¯s eyebrows rose at the odds of meeting another Gifted here, of all places.

    Vera had a very different reaction to the revelation. She released Q¡¯s arm like he¡¯d burned her. Shifting around him, she moved toward Reginald with stars in her eyes.

    A wave of understanding washed over Q at her motivation, and disappointment surged through him. The greed in Vera¡¯s expression killed any thought of enjoying her company. Though, it looked like that was off the table now anyway.

    A grin split Reginald¡¯s face when his friends burst into laughter. Q backed away, done with his involvement in their game.

    Sorry Cedric, these are definitely assholes¡ªI think that is enough for me tonight,  Q thought, turning to walk away.

    ¡°What¡¯s this now? I thought you and the young lady had plans. Or did I mishear?¡±

    Cedric, having seen the confrontation from their table, rose to his feet, and now stood blocking Q¡¯s exit. Garrick also noticed the incident, and was watching Q from over Cedric¡¯s shoulder, looking ready for anything.

    ¡°Well, well¡­ He has an escort, would you look at that? Maybe he¡¯s not just some country bumpkin.¡± Reginald said, spreading his arms wide, and casting a glance at his companions. Vera took the opportunity to slide in under an arm and cuddle into his side. ¡°Come now, no hard feelings. Let us all introduce ourselves. I am Viscount Reginald Hargrove, and these are my two cousins, the Lords Trevor and Lucius. They are escorting me to the Capital to attend the Mage Academy.¡±

    Q and Cedric exchanged glances, and a silent message passed between them. Unfortunately, custom dictated they had to introduce themselves or risk causing offense. Nodding their heads respectfully, Cedric took the lead.

    ¡°I am Baron Cedric Vaelmara and this is Earl Quinten Ashford. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances.¡±

    At the mention of Q¡¯s name, a sneer appeared on Reginald¡¯s face. ¡°By the stars, what is a fellow Gifted doing with a traitor¡¯s son?¡±

    Cedric inhaled deeply. In his time spent training with Q, it was inevitable that the topic of his parents would come up, and Cedric had been told the story of how they died. If there was one absolute truth in their world, it was that Q trusted in his father''s innocence, and believed to the depths of his soul that his parents had been unjustly murdered. Cedric remembered sitting through the etiquette lesson with Q¡¯s grandfathers, where they had discussed the situations in which Q could and could not defend his father.

    Unfortunately for Viscount Reginald, a tavern in his drunken state, was  far  from a safe setting in which to make such a remark.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The  crunch  of Reginald¡¯s nose was loud enough that it could be heard over the music filling the tavern. Q had to give Reginald¡¯s cousins credit where it was due. They did not hesitate to jump to their feet and square up against Cedric and himself.

    ¡°Fight, fight, fight!¡± Yelled the people standing closest. Garrick backed away. It was not his place to interfere with a tavern brawl between nobles. ¡°We will keep their guards out of the fight, my lord.¡± Turning with a wave to the rest of his men, he called back over his shoulder, ¡°Do your best not to kill them.¡±

    The cousins, who were close enough to identical to make it difficult to tell the difference between them, were fairly well trained in unarmed combat, and Q found himself surprised by that fact. He shouldn¡¯t have been. He was not the only noble who wanted to learn to fight, and this was proving a valuable lesson in not underestimating someone just because of their status. Neither of them, either the one in a blue tunic, nor the one in the red, were good enough to concern Q. And yet, without magic, they would have likely come out ahead after overpowering Cedric, and teaming up against Q. But, the reality was that a tavern brawl, even between nobles, was not a regulated, one-on-one duel, and Q took full advantage of that fact.

    Stepping onto the bench beside him, Q leapt over Reginald where he lay clutching his face. Crashing down on top of red-tunic, he drove his target hard into the tavern¡¯s wooden floor with a  thud.  Red immediately pushed Q off of him with one hand and landed a good blow to his abdomen with the other. Q grit his teeth at the pain and slammed his elbow deep into the muscle of Red¡¯s thigh, eliciting a groan from his opponent.

    Knowing the man would have trouble moving, Q rolled to his feet and ran to assist Cedric, who took a straight jab to the mouth as Q watched. Q kicked Blue in the back of the leg, forcing him to a knee. Grabbing the man¡¯s head, Q slammed it into a conveniently placed table beside him. He didn¡¯t have much time to appreciate his handy work as an arm snaked around his neck from behind, squeezing tight around his throat.

    Q tossed his head back, but whoever it was trying to choke him knew enough to bury their face between Q¡¯s shoulder blades, and protect from a head butt. Q used a move that he¡¯d had performed on himself several times until he¡¯d learned how to counter it. Reaching up with both hands, he gripped his attacker''s wrist and jumped into the air, lifting his legs to his chest, and forcing the combined weight of his body and gravity as it pulled him downward, onto the arm currently wrapped around his neck. Collapsing forward into an abdominal crunch the moment his knees hit the wooden planks. He sent Red over his shoulder and flying through the air, landing squarely in the middle of the same conveniently placed table.

    Red gasped for breath as the wind was knocked from his lungs. He struggled to sit up and only managed to make it halfway before Cedric connected with a shot to the jaw, knocking the final cousin out cold.

    In a matter of moments, their first tavern fight was over. With one man unconscious on the floor and the other draped across a table. Silence filled the room. Until the tavern¡¯s occupants roared in celebration for the two young men standing triumphant.

    Never one for modesty, Cedric peered down at Reginald where he still sat holding his nose, blood leaking between his fingers. ¡°You may want to hire a trainer when you get to Gremelda. Mage or not, I doubt your father will be proud that he spawned a dandy who goes down after one punch.¡±

    Wound to the nobles pride, dealt, Cedric turned with a flourish and raised both arms over his head, basking in the adulation. Q watched the fury spread across Reginald¡¯s face, and could see it in the young man¡¯s eyes the moment he chose to escalate the situation. Raising a hand, the mage conjured a fireball, this one much larger than the flame he¡¯d shown off earlier. He took aim at Cedric¡¯s turned back, releasing the flaming ball of energy.

    Reacting on instinct, Q telekinetically swatted the fireball aside. Watching in horror as it flew across the common room and hit the second floor railing, setting it ablaze. The heat from the flames instantly spread throughout the room. Cedric felt it on his back, spun around, and lashed out with a foot. His boot connecting solidly with Reginald¡¯s jaw, knocking him unconscious.

    Shit! Now who is going to put out the fire?  Q thought as he started to panic. His eyes met Cedric¡¯s, and he saw his own fear and regret reflected back at him.

    ¡°Fire! Everyone outside, fire!¡± Q yelled, with Cedric doing likewise. Both of them using their gifts to ensure their voices carried over the screams, and the sound of the fire as it grew.

    Garrick and his men helped funnel the occupants out the front door, doing what they could to keep it from jamming and getting people killed.

    Q surveyed the tavern. As far as he could tell, everyone had been evacuated.  Should we just let it burn itself out?  He thought, doing one last sweep for anyone unable to get themselves to safety.

    Just as he made his decision to leave, the innkeeper cried, ¡°There are guests already turned in for the night. They will be trapped if the fire continues to burn. Where is the mage who started the fire?¡±

    ¡°Knocked unconscious and dragged out by his family. The three of them were the first ones through the door.¡± Cedric answered, not taking his eyes off of Q.

    Without any Elemental magic of his own, and the fire well past anything Mental magic could contain, it was up to Q to decide the tavern guest¡¯s fate.

    Grandmother, grandfathers, please forgive me.  Q thought, stepping forward. The screams he could hear coming from the second story, made the decision for him.

    Raising his hands, Q used a combination of air and fire magic. With his control over the fire, he gripped the rampaging flames in an iron fist, forcing them to act against their will by not consuming the well seasoned and alcohol soaked timbers of the tavern. The combination created a fertile field for the fire to spread. The hungry flames danced in his grasp, testing his control. Tapping into his air magic, he drew on the wind, causing the flames to waver as the super heated air was pulled through the door being held open by Cedric. Effectively robbing the gluttonous flames of at least one source of fuel. Sweat dripped down Q¡¯s body as he was forced to channel his gift internally to combat the heat, smoke, and energy expenditure.

    Slowly, the flames died out one by one, until Q was able to pull water from the barrel at the rear of the tavern, putting out any beds of heat he still felt simmering.

    Q was too focused on his casting to notice, but his actions within the tavern had not gone unseen, and many had heard him be introduced by Cedric as Earl Ashford. The gossip had only been held at bay due to the fear of death, and now that it was no longer a concern, word rapidly began to spread.

    Seeing the first occupant of the rooms above come practically falling down the stairs, Q let out a breath he hadn¡¯t known he was holding. When the last guest, according to the innkeeper, who was the only person remaining in the tavern, other than Q, Cedric, and Garrick, finally made it out, Q was finally free to stumble his way out and into the fresh air. The unexpected use of his gift leaving him exhausted. Being the last to exit the still smoking building, Q froze at the sight before him. Arranged around the tavern, were several dozen people all staring directly at him.

    Oh, shit.

 B1C16 - The Norm-Born Man

    County Wycliffe

    A knock sounded from Ed and Nadine¡¯s chamber door. Forcing Ed to climb out of bed, and throw on a robe before opening the heavy oak a few inches. He found Q standing on the other side, soot stained and wearing a sheepish expression. Ed smelled the alcohol, smoke, and sweat wafting from the young man and groaned internally. He could already tell it was going to be a long night. Instructing Q to go clean himself up, he asked his grandson to meet him in his study once he was finished.

    Fifteen minutes later, Ed sat behind his desk with Q and Cedric standing before him, casting nervous glances at Garrick, where he¡¯d taken a place near the door.

    With only a brief hesitation, Q reported the events of the evening. Taking full responsibility for their actions, and for unintentionally revealing his gift. Ed listened to the entire story, all the while keeping his thoughts and impressions to himself. At the end of his grandson¡¯s tale, he thanked Q for coming to him straight away, telling the two young men to go get some rest. They would discuss it more in the morning once Ed had time to consider the consequences of all that had transpired.

    Garrick held the door while they filed out, Q¡¯s head lowered in shame. Closing it behind them, he turned to meet Edmund¡¯s gaze.

    ¡°Is there anything he left out?¡± Asked Edmund as he rose to his feet, and made his way across the room, groaning as he sunk into one of the cushioned armchairs. ¡°I feel as if he told me everything.¡± Ed continued, waving Garrick to the seat next to him.

    ¡°That was the whole of it, my lord. I was not there for the initial interaction with the barmaid, but it matches what I witnessed from across the room.¡±

    Nodding, Ed felt a deep sense of satisfaction and pride that Q had been forthcoming with the truth. ¡°What was your impression? Did they do anything unbecoming their station?¡±

    Garrick gave the question serious thought before answering, ¡°I cannot see fault in your grandson¡¯s actions, my lord. He fully intended to retreat from the situation and was courteous dealing with the other nobles. It was only when his father was disrespected that he reacted aggressively.¡±

    Ed grimaced and rubbed his forehead. Sighing, he said, ¡°It¡¯s almost worse that Henry shared what he learned investigating Julian¡¯s death. It will only make dealing with the taunts and verbal attacks against his father more difficult for Q to shrug off.¡±

    ¡°The boy is fairly slow to anger, my lord, but that is a surefire way to manage it,¡± agreed Garrick. ¡°His Gift, my lord? Dozens of people saw him use it to put out the fire. People in the tavern knew him by name. What will you do now? I cannot imagine it will take long for word to spread and the entire kingdom will know your grandson is norm-born.¡±

    ¡°It was only a matter of time,¡± Ed said with a sigh. ¡°And this moment was one of the reasons I rejoined the Council of Mages in the first place, to handle the fallout. As for what we will do next? I¡¯m not entirely sure. I will speak to Nadine in the morning.¡±

    With those parting words, he dismissed Garrick for the evening, and began the walk back to his and Nadine¡¯s bedchamber¡ªa normally short journey that tonight, seemed to stretch for miles.

    ¡°So, the secret of his gift is out. What do we need to do first?¡± Nadine asked the following morning. She and Ed were enjoying their breakfast out on the veranda, discussing their grandson¡¯s actions and what they now meant for his future.

    ¡°The altercation with Count Hargrove¡¯s spawn will go nowhere. Considering neither Cedric nor Q used magic in their little scuffle. The Count will not bring the issue to court, not knowing all the damage was caused by his son¡¯s irresponsible use of his Gift.¡± Ed said, taking a sip of his tea before continuing,  ¡°I will leave for Gremelda in the next few days. It is  better if we  register Q  and his   Gift  before  it gets back to the Mages Council. I can also get  his name enrolled in the next class at the Academy , something we would¡¯ve had to do anyway.¡±

    Nadine beat her fingers  in a staccato rhythm  on the tabletop,  a habit she fell into when thinking deeply on a subject.  Groaning, she complained,  ¡°The floodgates will open once you do.  I can only imagine how much interest he will have when his power becomes known, regardless of how people view his father.¡±

    Ed let out a snort. ¡°If any  of the  ladies interested in him as a match, make the mistake of disparaging either of his parents. Their prospects  will be short-lived.¡±

    ¡°Who  will  he marry, Ed? We can push it off for a few more years, but  I don¡¯t believe he will be able to  completely  avoid the new laws as you have.¡±

    ¡°Technically, he has nine years to take a wife.¡± Ed argued. ¡°There is a lot that can change in that time.¡±

    ¡°No, dear. He has nine years to take  three  wives. Unless he plans to marry all three at the last moment, he will have to make a decision sooner than that. And do you see the Crown, the Mages Council, or the peerage allowing him to go without pressure during that time?   What if the King makes a demand as he did with Henry? Q would not be able to disobey him.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    With a deep sigh, Ed  acknowledged her point with a nod . ¡°Then I am sorry to say it, my dear. The dance of arranging a marriage will be on you to help him navigate. I will do my best to shield him from the Council ,  and  I¡¯m sure  Henry will do  what he can  with the Crown. You are his only defense against the  Peerage .¡±

    *****

    Capital City of Gremelda

    The Royal Palace - Private Audience Chamber

    The King entered the chamber, his arm entwined with the Queen¡¯s as he guided her deeper into the room, taking in the scene. The request for an audience had been vague, but bearing the Archmage¡¯s seal, Frederick had been reluctant to dismiss it on that fault alone. As his gaze swept the occupants, he was glad he hadn¡¯t. Whatever was going on, it had to be important after noting that Archmage Highbridge was not alone. Several other members of the Council were present¡ªmost unfamiliar to the King, but their heavy purple robes unmistakably marked them as councilman and women.

    Looking from person to person,  Frederick  waited, reveling in the   knowledge  that,  as King,  he never had to speak first  unless he chose to , it was a petty triumph, but one he  cherished .

    ¡°Your  majesty, there has been a development ¡­   that  we feel  the  need to  bring  to your attention.¡± Archmage Highbridge explained, slowly.

    Frederick¡¯s curiosity roused, and he  raised a brow while waving for her to continue.

    ¡°One of our Councilmen has registered a new student at the Mages Academy to start in their next available class. The issue being, that according to our records¡­ his father was  not Gifted, your  majesty .¡±

    Frederick¡¯s  other  eyebrow rose  to meet the first,  nearly  at  his hair-line. He traded a look with Queen Clarissa, who looked just as surprised as he felt. ¡°To be clear, you are saying that a  norm-born  male has been registered with the Mages Council? I did not think that was possible,  it was just  a lie told to commoners to give them hope.¡±

    Several people in the room winced at the king¡¯s words, but no one spoke up in disagreement.

    It fell on the Archmage  to answer his question.  ¡°Yes, your  majesty. That is exactly what we are saying. It hasn¡¯t happened in several hundred years¡ªbut we have documented instances of  norm-born  men popping up from time to time.

    ¡°Have you sent anyone to confirm  that  the boy is in fact  Gifted? Could this be a farce?¡±  The king asked, his excitement growing.

    If we can figure out what made the Gift awaken in this boy, we might learn how to make it happen more frequently.  Frederick thought, trading another look with his wife. She had a thoughtful expression on her face, and he was excited to hear her thoughts on the matter.

    Unaware of the king¡¯s thoughts and desires, Archmage Highbridge was ready with an easy answer to his question.  ¡°If the registration had not come from a member of the Council, we would have done exactly that, your majesty. In this case, they brought with them eyewitness reports corroborating an event where the young man in question used his gift in public to put out a burning tavern.¡±

    The king smiled and exclaimed. ¡°Then this is fantastic news! Another male to add to the ranks of our  Gifted.¡±

    Clarissa, who had been quiet since entering the room, had been processing everything that was being said. Yet, one detail stood out to her, something  her husband had overlooked.  The Archmage wouldn¡¯t have dragged half the Council to the palace simply to deliver good news, if that was all this was.

    There was a problem,  she thought.  One they didn¡¯t know how to handle.

    ¡°What is the issue, then? As my husband said, this should be cause to celebrate.¡± Clarissa asked , cutting to the heart of the matter .

    Archmage Highbridge met the queen¡¯s  gaze , and answered. ¡°The issue, your majesty, and why we requested this meeting is in regards to who the boy is, or more appropriately, who his father was.¡±

    The Queen fought down the urge to rub her forehead, knowing that she would not like the next words out of Highbridge¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°Your  majesty , the  norm-born  boy is the son of the traitor, Earl Julian, and Lady Katherine Ashford, grandson of the previous Lord Marshal, and grandson to our own council member, Count Edmund Wycliffe.¡±

 B1C17 - Off To Magic School You Go

    County Wycliffe

    The punishment for  Q and Cedric¡¯s  night of frivolity was an increase in their training  intensity.   Elara and Q¡¯s  grandparents introduced restrictions into their duels, obstacle course runs, and their overall training.   Stripping them of their  preferred tactics   and removing from their arsenals, their instinctive reactions.   Forcing them to adapt and avoid falling into common patterns. They would be assigned tasks, but the simplest or most direct methods to achieve the goal were prohibited.  Stressing their  creativity and  inspiring  new ways of using their  Gifts.

    ¡°This is your fault. You know that,  don¡¯t you?¡± Q said from where he lay panting in the grass.

    ¡°Hey, if you had shown that  girl a little of your own magic, that prick¡¯s little flame wouldn¡¯t have done anything for her.¡± Argued Cedric,   mentally preparing   for his turn on  the obstacle course. It was on its tenth or twelfth  version,   as Henry made changes  over the years.  Increasing  its difficulty as soon as he started to think the course had become too easy. Cedric¡¯s current restriction  limited him to shifting only his hands and feet to complete the course. Changing the skeletal structure, shape, and texture of his extremities allowed him to improve his ability to grab, hold, and in certain cases, land, but overall it resulted in a significant increase in difficulty due to the decrease in both speed and dexterity when compared to the capabilities he had in what he called, his battle form.

    Peering at the clear blue sky above, Q replied.  ¡°If that is what would have won  Vera  over, I¡¯m   likely  better off without her.¡±

    What he¡¯d hoped would turn into an unforgettable night had, in fact, become one. Just not in the way he would have liked. The consequences of their night at the tavern were farther reaching than he¡¯d been prepared for.

    ¡°That¡¯s true enough, but we were never really in trouble for that night. It just gave them a  reason to push us. That, and they knew you would work harder  if you felt guilty.¡± Cedric said with a grin. ¡°I  listened  in on  mother  speaking with  your  grandparents. They are doing this to prepare us for the Academy. Now that we¡¯ve been enrolled, they want us to be ready.¡± Cedric  confessed  before  running  onto the course.

    Why does he always have  to have the last word?  Q wondered, before his thoughts drifted to  the Academy. His  stomach fluttered at the idea of leaving his family and being surrounded by other mages and nobles. He knew his grandparents were worried about his safety in the Capital, but Q only had one thought. The faster he completed his training and service to the realm, the sooner he could sever all ties with the Crown and its King.

    *****

    The Capital City of Gremelda

    Six Months Later

    Q watched with wide eyes as they rode through the  inner  city gates. It had been so long since he was last here that he had forgotten  how overwhelming the Capital could be.

    Gremelda unfolded in two distinct layers, divided by an imposing inner wall that soared above its surroundings. The outer city, a sprawling expanse of timber-framed houses, cobblestone streets, and modest markets that had built up around the inner wall over the centuries, creating a second city that encircled the inner ring. Smoke curled lazily from countless chimneys, mingling with the scents of freshly baked bread, horses, and the occasional waft of refuse from a nearby alley. Children darted through narrow lanes, and merchants shouted over the hum of daily life, their voices mingling with the rhythmic clatter of carts and hooves.

    While lively and full of character, the outer city bore the marks of time and necessity¡ªweather-worn shingles and uneven streets were cobbled together and only repaired or smoothed out by the Gifted on occasion or due to necessity. Here, norm life moved at a brisk pace, grounded in the day to day of an uncaring reality.

    The inner city, protected by its towering stone wall and the magic within, was a world apart.

    Rising above the chaos of the outer city, its polished grandeur glinted in the sunlight. Within this fortified enclave, the very air was different¡ªcleaner, for a start. Every structure was a marvel of craftsmanship, carved or transmuted into stone, crystal, and adorned with gems to a level of excess only achievable through magic. Wide avenues paved with seamless stone made up the city¡¯s infrastructure, connecting elegant plazas and buildings shaped into works of art that spoke of wealth, authority, and permanence. Towers spiraled skyward with impossible grace in the inner districts. Their surfaces were etched with intricate designs that showcased their family lineage, while the stone edifices in the merchant¡¯s quarter advertised their wares, services, or family business.

    Between the walls, the contrast was stark. The outer city, though alive with humanity and heart, seemed humble and coarse next to the refined and brilliant inner sanctum, as though its builders knew it would forever stand in the shadow of something greater. Yet the two halves formed a symbiotic whole¡ªthe inner city drawing goods, entertainment, and food from the outer populace, while the outer city thrived under the protection of the Gifted within the monumental walls.

    Cedric, seated beside Q  in their carriage,  was   currently  playing  the  role  of a country bumpkin,   having never been to Gremelda before.

    Side-eyeing his friend, Q asked, ¡°Hey, how come you never came here with your parents? I always thought that was weird, with how many other cities you¡¯ve been to.¡±

    Cedric frowned slightly, struggling to pull his eyes away from the window, and from what Q suspected was a rather pleasing female form. Based on the way his eyes tracked whatever he was watching. Finally, he got around to answering,  ¡°You know,  I¡¯ve  never actually asked.  I¡¯m pretty sure it is due to the way my mother is treated by most mages. They look down on her for only having access to Mental magic. The fact she is the best in the kingdom means little to those that just want to tear her down.¡±

    Q  suspected that his friend was right. It was unfortunate the way in which people judged others, but it was a fact of life that people generally compared themselves in various ways, and a select few would go out of their way to make sure that those beneath them, knew it.   Shaking off the morose thoughts, Q did his best to  enjoy the sights  passing by through  the carriage  window.

    Their families had explained to the two young men what to expect  at the Academy,  and Q¡¯s grandfather,  Ed, planned to meet them at the gates  upon their arrival.

    The Mage Academy was built on a small campus  within the inner city.   Each building meant for a specific purpose and use. Their briefing on the academy didn¡¯t  delve into the details of each building, but they did cover those that they would spend the majority of their time in. The main hall, library tower, elemental chambers, dueling arena  or training yard, and the  one they were the least excited to visit,   the  Infirmary.

    Q could pick out the library,  and the open-sided tower used for the air chamber,   even  from a  distance. He may have wanted to complete his  service to the  kingdom  as soon as he could, but even  he  had to admit  to  some  level of  excitement  at the prospect of learning  new magic and  seeing  how others thought to use theirs.

    And this is the best place in the entire kingdom to do so,  he thought.

    Q climbed out of the carriage and peered up, and up, and  up  at the   academy gates towering   over him. The campus was  walled  for security, with  armored  guards manning the entrance, stationed periodically along the crystal-lit expanse.

    True to his word, his grandfather, Ed,  stood just outside the gates.   His heavy, purple  Council robes,  giving him a distinguished air. And Q noticed,  drawing nervous glances from the gate guards.

    Standing  beside  him  in grey robes  was a young man Q did not recognize.

    Stepping forward,  he and  his grandfather  exchanged  grips.  It had only been a few months since they¡¯d last seen each other, but Q was happy to have him  there for support.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, son.  I¡¯m sorry to rush things along, but your registration set things into a bit of an uproar,  and I¡¯d like to get you settled before anyone knows you¡¯re here.¡±  Said Ed, when  a cough from beside him  interrupted them,   making   his grandfather wince.

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s right. My apologies, Mage Hastings.¡± With a wave of his hand, Ed indicated the grey-robed mage. ¡°Boys, the academy requires you to be greeted by another student to guide you through your first month here. Mage Hastings has been assigned to you  both  for simplicity''s sake.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    The young man stepped forward. Close to their own ages, but presumably a year older, judging by the fact, he was already a student and likely in his second year.   The boy¡¯s  thick,  curly  auburn hair was long enough to touch  his eyebrows,  and  flared  out in all directions.   His large brown eyes were warm and expressive. Reaching  out a hand in introduction, he said.  ¡°In case you are unaware, we are told to set aside our noble titles and rank while we are in training. We are all considered students and are addressed as Mage. It is supposed to keep us from pulling rank on each other,  or stars  help them,  an Instructor.  Though¡­ I¡¯ll admit that it does still happen on occasion. Anyway, you two can just  call me Ronan.¡±

    Q grasped his forearm,  giving  it a light squeeze, and replied.  ¡°Well met,  Ronan. I am Quinten, but you can call me Q, and this is Cedric. Thank you for being our guide.¡±

    With introductions complete,  Ronan escorted their small party  through the gates  with a  wave  at the guards.   He  took the group on a short tour. Walking across campus, Q saw three different colors of robes, white, grey, and black. He assumed the colors meant something and made a mental note to ask Ronan about it later.  Q  tried to focus on the  young  man as he explained where each of the elemental chambers were located, but the feeling of eyes watching him was starting to make  him uncomfortable.  It took him a moment to process what was setting him on edge, and when he finally nailed it down, he hesitated, bringing up the subject in his embarrassment.

    Eventually, his unease won out, and  Q  leaned toward their guide, mumbling, ¡°Ronan ¡­  Is  all  the staring normal?¡±

    The  young  man, who had been actively pointing out the Infirmary, stopped speaking and let his hand drop to his side. Giving the surrounding area a good look and  taking in the atmosphere, realization dawned.

    With a snort, he said,  ¡°It¡¯s the new students. Their robes tell you if it is their first or second year at the academy. White for first, grey for second, and black for an instructor or a graduate mage. You are likely one of the first gifted boys that any of these  Ladies in white  have  ever  seen,  other than family. And, it is not uncommon for noble families to push their daughters to find a potential husband during their time here, a practice that has only grown more popular after the King¡¯s Edicts.¡±

    Q nodded  his understanding. The logic made sense, but it didn¡¯t really explain the¡ªpredatory glint some of their gazes carried. Before he could ask as a  follow up, Cedric beat him to it. ¡°Uh.. not to sound like a dandy, but are we safe here?¡±

    The question forced a laugh out of Ronan until he realized Cedric was serious.

    ¡°Yes¡­¡± He said, raising a brow. ¡°You¡¯re  safe  enough  here, at least  while you¡¯re  on academy grounds.  But¡­ uh. Maybe don¡¯t  go  off  with any of them into the city alone? Let¡¯s just say more than one young man has gone missing, only to show back up a week later¡ªnewly married, and not exactly happy about it.¡±

    After planting that cheerful notion firmly in the minds of his two young charges, Ronan continued the tour. When they reached the end, excitement danced across   their guide¡¯s face as he  clapped his  hands together,   rubbing  them  briskly. ¡°The next part is my favorite. Have either of you ever used a testing stone?¡±

    Testing stones had been described to Q in the past, but this was his first  opportunity to  see one in person. The stone looked like a large round table with five concentric rings formed out of crystals embedded in the table¡¯s surface. They appeared clear, but Q knew that depending on the person being tested, they would glow a specific color to match their Gifts.

    Red for Elemental, purple for Mental, blue for Physical, green for Transmutation, and gold for Healing.

    Each crystal represented a stellum¡ªa unit used to measure a mage''s power. For reasons still unknown, the total stellum within a mage increased significantly with each additional Gift, ranging from a fifty percent increase to a full doubling. A mage with a single Gift always measured at twenty stellum during testing, while someone with two Gifts could score anywhere from thirty to forty. This exponential growth in power continued with each additional Gift. It was theorized that a mage with all five Gifts could manage to score as low as 100, or potentially reach as high as 320 stellum. Though this had remained unproven, as no one had ever possessed all five.

    The testing stone was built for the possibility, though. With the fifth ring closing its circle  at  320 crystals. There were two large white  orbs placed at the front of the table. It took Q a moment to realize that they were normal crystals,  worn smooth over time from where past mages had held them during their testing.

    Closing the door behind them, Ronan asked, ¡°Who would like to go first?¡±

    Raising a hand,  Cedric  said, ¡°I  will.  I don¡¯t expect there to be any surprises.¡±

    With a wink at Q, he sniffed in his best impression of a snob and  stepped  forward. Keeping his  upper lip stiff and his gait to match. He  took hold of  the crystals and channeled his  Gift. Three of the table¡¯s rings lit up, the first,  purple,  followed by blue and  then  green. It was easier for Q to count the crystals  that were  not  glowing in the third row.  Leaving ten dim, and  meaning  that  Cedric came in at seventy stellum.

    Sighing, Cedric  theatrically  let his head fall  forward as if in despair, saying,  ¡°I was ready to max this thing out,  just on my good looks alone.¡±  Earning  a grin from their guide, and a snort from Q.

    Stepping  aside, he bowed   and swept  his arm forward,  presenting the  table  to Q. ¡°The stone awaits to confirm your legacy, O future Archmage.¡±  Joked Cedric  in a sonorous voice.

    Ignoring his friend¡¯s antics, Q wiped his  sweaty  hands on his trousers and stepped forward. Placing his palms on the two crystals, he   released   his  hold   on  the energy coursing through him.

    When Cedric  had  used the stone, it   lit the room with a pleasant glow. In comparison, Q¡¯s Gifts  turned   the testing stone from a small flame into a bonfire. Lighting up the  entire chamber  and  nearly blinding its occupants.

    ¡°Stars above,¡± Ronan rasped in a shaky voice.   ¡°I thought you were joking¡­  I¡ªI¡¯m not even  sure  Archmage Highbridge is that powerful.¡±  The second-year   managed  from behind  Q.

    In an attempt to downplay the stone¡¯s results, Q¡¯s  grandfather cleared his throat. ¡°As we suspected, you do not have the ability to heal, but  that is  a perfectly acceptable result, son.¡±

    Their testing finished, Ronan turned on unsteady legs  to  exit  the room, when   Councilman  Edmund took a strong grip on  the young mage¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°You will not speak of this to anyone. Is that clear?¡±

    Ronan  shrunk  back  at  the intensity  coming off the older mage.  ¡°My lord, it is standard policy to report any testings of over 80 stellum   to the  Headmistress. At 150,  he could very well be the strongest mage alive.¡±

    Squeezing harder,  Edmund   leaned in.   His quiet voice,  and the calmness with which he spoke,  highlighted  the threat hidden  beneath his words. ¡°Archmage Highbridge  is  the strongest mage in the kingdom. There is a difference between power and ability,  Mage  Hastings, as you well know." Relaxing his grip, Ed continued. ¡°It will do him no good,   being made  a spectacle.   He  will have enough difficulty  already,   being who he is. He needs  time  to learn and grow into his  Gifts. Do you understand?¡±

    Ronan met the man¡¯s gaze, and could clearly see the depth of caring and concern within him as he simultaneously threatened and all but pleaded for Ronan to agree.  ¡°Of course,  Councilman. I understand. I will not report this to the headmistress.¡±

    Ed released his  hold on the young man entirely.  ¡°Thank you. I will owe you and your family for your caution. If your silence ever becomes an issue,  just  say  I told you to keep it secret by order of the Council of Mages.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Councilman Wycliffe.¡± Ronan said absentmindedly, meeting the hazel eyes of the young man with sun-kissed bronze hair, and couldn¡¯t help wondering how interesting the next few years at the Academy would be.

 B1C18 - ?Eat You Alive?

    Q¡¯s grandfather took his leave as they departed the testing room, wishing Q and Cedric well and thanking Ronan for the tour.

    Their guide took them to Wardrobe Issue, where they were fitted for their new, first-year white robes. Ronan then escorted them to the dormitories to receive their room assignments. Either through luck, or his grandfather¡¯s machinations, Q and Cedric¡¯s rooms turned out to be right next to each other.

    The dormitory section of campus was broken into three buildings. The first year females had their own building, as did those in their second year, due to the number of students in each class.

    The male mages, for both years, shared a building. With the older mages taking the larger rooms on the ground floor, leaving the new arrivals to climb the stairs to the second level.

    Cedric and Q saw that their things had already been delivered to their rooms when they stopped by to change into their new robes and drop off their extras. Once ready, they followed Ronan out of the building and toward the main hall to grab dinner.

    ¡°Your grandfather is rather terrifying. Has anyone ever told you that?¡± Ronan asked nonchalantly as they headed down the paved walkway.

    Q raised a brow, saying, ¡°Not in so many words. But he can be intense and a bit overprotective.¡±

    Nodding his agreement, Ronan paused for a moment, and seemed to consider his question before deciding to ask it anyway. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind my prying, would this not be something the celebrate, scoring so well during your testing? The Councilman hinted that may not be the case for you, specifically.¡±

    Q and Cedric exchange glances. On short acquaintance, they both liked the older boy, but they didn¡¯t want to over share. Knowing the truth behind his parentage would not stay hidden for long, Q decided to share a little of what would eventually come out anyway. ¡°We didn¡¯t give our full names earlier. I am Earl Quinten Ashford, son of Julian and Katherine Ashford¡ª¡±

    ¡°The traitor¡¯s son,¡± Ronan finished for him. To Q¡¯s surprise, there was no scorn or accusation in his voice.

    Leaning closer, their guide whispered, ¡°My father, Duke Hastings, has mentioned what happened to your family in passing. After the trial, he did some digging. He wanted to know how such a well thought out plot against the Throne could have gone unnoticed for so long. And when so many of the accused were cleared of all charges when no new evidence was found linking them to the conspiracy? It never sat right with him.¡±

    Q had stopped walking at being called a traitor¡¯s son, but the longer he listened to the young man speak, the more unsure he became. He watched closely for any falsehoods, but as far as he could tell, Ronan was being completely truthful in what he was saying. Looking to Cedric for his opinion, to which his friend just raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but are you saying that you and your father actually believe my own was innocent?¡± Q asked, incredulity clear in his voice. The sound of his charge speaking from behind him made Ronan pause. Realizing he was the only one still moving, he spun back to face the pair.

    Barking out a laugh, Ronan shook his head. ¡°And go against the King¡¯s ruling? Stars above, no. But I am willing to say it¡¯s possible.¡± He admitted, turning halfway round, and motioning for them to continue down the path.

    It had been a few years since Q ate in a dining hall. The last time was just before the fateful patrol out in the Western Marches that led to the battle that awakened his Gift. Wooden tables and benches filled the main hall with a small dais at the front, behind which Q could see several black-robed instructors eating their own meals. The tables were arranged to run the length of the room, with five rows that appeared to sit twenty to thirty people per table.

    The large double doors shut behind them with a hollow boom and several of those closest took notice of their arrival. Like a wave, people further and further down the table turned to look at the trio as Ronan led them to a table laden with food, just to the side of the main doors. ¡°Don¡¯t mind them. They just want to see if anyone new has arrived. Most of the young nobles here know each other from Court. It¡¯s a viper''s nest of who awakened a Gift and who did not. It¡¯s best not to play in their games if you can avoid it.¡±

    Even with his back turned to the room, Q still felt eyes on him as he filled his plate, digging into him as if searching for weaknesses.

    Once they¡¯d grabbed all they wanted for dinner, Ronan led them to a table with a section of open benches. While navigating the room, Q couldn¡¯t help but notice that the first-year boys sat huddled together in a small group, looking isolated and unsure. What truly stood out, though, were the second-years. They were scattered among the girls, many of whom draped themselves over the boys as though staking a claim. Curious if this was an extension of what Ronan had mentioned earlier, Q asked about it once they¡¯d taken their seats, prompting Ronan to give a small nod in understanding.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ that¡¯s how it goes here,¡± Ronan said. ¡°You¡¯ll see more and more of your year-mates get lured away as the year goes on. We joked earlier about them being captured and forced to marry, but that isn¡¯t the norm. Most of the young men here, fresh out from under their mother¡¯s wings, are going to get themselves in trouble without anyone having to resort to getting physical.¡±

    Raising a brow, Cedric set down the roll he was in the process of buttering and pretended to look around. Finally, he asked, ¡°Are you married already, Ronan? Engaged, maybe? I don¡¯t see a ring on your hand, nor any ladies hanging off you.¡±

    For the first time since they met the older boy, he looked uncomfortable.

    ¡°No, my father would like me to focus on my studies while I¡¯m here. A suitable marriage will be made once I have finished the Academy.¡±

    Even Cedric, prone to taking a joke too far in an attempt to get a laugh, could tell this was a sensitive topic. Choosing to leave it at that, they changed the subject.

    ¡°When will we start class?¡± Q asked, ¡°O! And when will we meet our classmates?¡± Cedric cut in, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

    A smile returned to Ronan¡¯s face, and he replied. ¡°The answer to both questions is nearly the same. You have a few days until the first official day of class begins. That is when you will be introduced to your instructors, and the first time, your entire class will be gathered together.¡±This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°How large are normal classes, anyway? I know it will be a predominantly female class, but there have to be more of us boys running around,¡± Cedrick asked as he looked around the room, and then pointedly stared at the group of a half-dozen boys huddled at the table behind them.

    ¡°Your class is actually one of the largest we have had in the last few years. ten males and thirty-eight female gifted. Mine only had seven of us and thirty-five ladies.¡±

    Letting out a whistle before popping a roasted potato into his mouth, Cedric pointed his fork at Ronan, ¡°So, give it to me straight. What is it like here? The good, the bad, and the filthy?¡±

    Q elbowed his friend and smiled at the older boy apologetically. ¡°Please excuse him. He was hit in the head a few too many times over the years.¡±

    Ronan waved it away, ¡°It is no trouble, he is just overcompensating. I remember my first time, but don¡¯t worry, it will happen for you soon enough, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    Cedric¡¯s mouth dropped open as Q barked out a laugh. Closing it with a grin, Cedric pointed at Ronan with his fork once more, and said, ¡°I like him, he gets my vote.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be careful with what you say. You never know how he might take you saying that.¡± An acidic male voice said from the table behind them. Looking over their shoulders, Q and Cedric saw a first-year boy of roughly their age, staring daggers at them from the gaggle of boys. Peering back and forth between the young man and Ronan, Q could see a notable resemblance. If you swapped out the brown hair for red, they would be nearly identical.

    Ronan exhaled and closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping. When they reopened, Q could see the sadness behind the expressive brown irises. ¡°Must you, Taylor?¡±

    The boy, Taylor apparently, sneered, ¡°That is Mage Hastings. We are at the Academy now. And here, I do not need to suffer from having an abomination for a brother.¡±

    Q frown at the harsh words. As an only child, he had always had the secret dream of having a little brother. Seeing the relationship between these two, it threw what he expected out of the carriage. ¡°Look, there is some obvious history here that we are not privy to, but on short acquaintance, Ronan has been nothing but pleasant since we met. I would appreciate it if you kept such vitriol to yourself.¡±

    The sneer deepened, ¡°Well, look at that Ronan, you may have found yourself a dandy here after all, congratulations.¡±

    Q¡¯s eyebrows climbed high in surprise. The trio silently watched Taylor, who grinned with apparent triumph, stand from his table and make his way out of the dining hall. A few of the boys seated with him, scrambling to their feet and scurrying after him.

    ¡°Well,¡± Q said, turning back and picking up a roll, ¡°I know I don¡¯t have any siblings, but one experience with that shithead, and I¡¯m not sure I would have enjoyed having a brother.¡±

    Picking up on Q¡¯s intentions, Cedric played along. ¡°Ronan must be their mother¡¯s favorite. I¡¯ve heard rumor, that can warp a man if he¡¯s weak-minded.¡± Smacking himself on the forehead, Cedric groaned. ¡°Shooting stars, Mother told me to be more considerate of the handicapped.¡±

    Ronan looked back and forth between the two in confusion at first, and then, as understanding crept in, with tentative hope.

    Throughout the remainder of their meal, Q could see that candle¡¯s flame of fragile longing continue to grow when neither he nor Cedric brought up Taylor¡¯s revelation. They were finishing the last bits of food on their plates when a second interruption occurred, this one of a different, if no more appealing, nature.

    ¡°Did you enjoy your first dinner at the Academy?¡± A voice asked from behind Q and Cedric. Turning partially around, they found a short girl in the white robes of a first year, with wavy dark hair standing behind them. Even seated, she was nearly eye level with the taller boys.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t as bad as I feared it would be,¡± Q admitted slowly, as he looked the girl over. Thick black curls framed a pleasant face. The smile she was giving him in return certainly didn¡¯t hurt. She gave him her own once over, and Q couldn¡¯t help thinking that the games had already started.

    ¡°I¡¯m Mage Irvine, but you can call me Macy,¡± she said, somehow managing to look at him while simultaneously fluttering her lashes.

    Cedric turned a little more in his seat, so he was half-facing her. ¡°Hello, Macy. I¡¯m Cedric, and this is Q.¡± Nodding across the table, he said, ¡°and that¡¯s Ronan, our new friend.¡±

    At the mention of Ronan, a sneer momentarily crossed Macy¡¯s face before it returned to her previous, smiling demeanor. A demeanor Q found a little less pleasant after seeing the shift.

    She dipped her head slightly and said, ¡°A pleasure.¡± Returning her focus to Q and Cedric, she asked cheerily, ¡°I don¡¯t recognize either of you from Court. Where are you from? And how did your testing go today?¡±

    Would you look at the pair on this one? Q thought. She just came right out with it. I¡¯ll give her credit for not beating around the bu¡ªQ¡¯s musings came to a halt when a new voice joined the conversation.

    ¡°That is exactly what I would like to know¡ªnow, run along, little Macy.¡±

    Shifting his gaze over to Ronan¡¯s side of the table, Q got his first look at the speaker. A tall blonde beauty stood behind their friend, smiling down at them. She too, wore white robes as did the three friends Q could see watching from further down the aisle.

    The new arrival waited, watching the shorter girl hurry away, before turning back to Cedric and Q, focusing that blinding smile of hers on them once more. ¡°Hello! What are your names?¡±

    Her question was met with a long silence until Cedric answered slowly. ¡°I am Mage Vaelmara and this is my friend, Mage Valtieri.¡± he said, introducing them, ¡°And what should we call you, Mage¡­?¡±

    Q¡¯s grandfather had recommended he use their old family name of Valtieri instead of Ashford while at the academy. Ed had known it would grate on his grandson, having to do anything to hide his connection to his father, but even Q could admit it was good advice.

    ¡°Vaelmara sounds familiar¡­ but Valtieri¡­ I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ve ever heard it before.¡± The blonde said, talking to herself and tapping her chin with a manicured nail. Puffing out a breath, she continued, ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯ll figure it out later. So, what Gifts and how much stellum did you two have?¡± She asked, looking between the two first-years expectantly.

    Q raised an eyebrow, shifting his gaze between Cedric and Ronan. His question of is she serious, coming through loud and clear.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but are you always so rude?¡± Q asked after a moment.

    ¡°Oh, no, this isn¡¯t me being rude, just efficient. I am the daughter of a Duke. If I am going to improve my families standing through marriage, I can only consider the best.¡± The bluntness in which she handled the question set the trio back a mental step.

    Cedric honestly could not tell if he should be offended or not.

    Q had no such qualms. Raising his hand, he said, ¡°You can take me off your list. I don¡¯t think I would be up to your standards.¡±

    She nodded in acceptance and turned to Cedric, lifting one perfectly plucked brow.

    Looking her up and down, Cedric decided he would shoot his shot. ¡°Mental, Physical, and Transmutation. Seventy stellum.¡±

    Shifting her head side to side, the blonde gave Cedric a thorough once over that reminded Q of his grandfather inspecting a horse before purchase. In the end, she said, ¡°I will consider it, Vaelmara. Enjoy your evening!¡± With that, she spun on her heel and returned to her friends¡ªwho immediately broke out into hushed whispers.

    Ronan whistled, ¡°Duke Sutherland¡¯s daughter, Lady Celeste.¡± Jabbing the tabletop with his pointer finger, he said, ¡°Mark my words, get involved with that one and she will eat you alive.¡±

    ¡°But what a way to go¡­¡± Cedric responded absentmindedly. Still watching Celeste as she held court a few table lengths away.

    After that interaction, their appetites were well and truly gone. So, they dropped off their trays before heading out the main doors. They made it half way back to the dorm before Ronan¡¯s anxiety got the better of him and he blurted, ¡°Do you two really not care?¡±

    Neither Q nor Cedric needed clarification.

    ¡°That you are interested in men?¡± Q asked. ¡°Not even a little.¡±

    Cedric reached over and gripped the older boy¡¯s tense shoulder. ¡°More ladies for me, brother. What¡¯s not to like?¡± He asked with a sincere smile.

    Ronan¡¯s lips twitched in return, staying quiet as they reached their rooms and exchanged goodnights. The expression lingered on his face long after, the smallest seed of hope taking root¡ªperhaps, for the first time since his proclivities had been discovered, he felt a sliver of hope that he might finally be accepted for who he truly was.

 B1C19 - First Day At A New School

    A few days later, Q, Cedric, and Ronan were together in the main hall, surrounded by their fellow first and second-years. The group sat in quiet anticipation, awaiting the Headmistress¡¯s arrival to deliver the year¡¯s opening remarks and signal the beginning of their first term.

    Ronan¡¯s brother, Taylor, had thankfully kept his distance after their initial encounter. To which they were thankful, but the damage had already been done. Cedric and Q faced chilly receptions when introducing themselves to their year-mates, and a late arrival all but ensured their current pariah status would likely continue, in addition to the truth about Q¡¯s parentage being exposed.

    They knew he planned to attend the Academy, but in the aftermath of the fire, and in all the hard training that followed, they¡¯d simply forgotten. On their third day, they were greeted by the familiar face of Viscount Reginald Hargrove. Cedric saw him first, kicking Q under the table, and pointing with his head and eyes. As soon as Q¡¯s gaze landed on the young man¡¯s rotund figure, he knew it was only a matter of time until the Viscount recognized one of them.

    Q watched as Cedric caught Celeste¡¯s eye, wiggling his fingers in a wave, and mouthing the word hello. She gave him a half smirk before turning back to her friends and ignoring him.

    He agreed with Ronan, their friend was playing with fire, but if Cedric wanted to risk getting burned, he was old enough to deal with the consequences. Q wasn¡¯t sure if it was through some unspoken agreement not to approach them, but she was the last of their female classmates to do so. Though there were always those watching, and he doubted he¡¯d ever be comfortable with the sensation.

    Suddenly, the doors at the rear of the hall, swung open. Striking their stopper plates with an echoing boom, and out walked an imposing cadre of mages in black robes. It looked like most of their instructors were women, but there were two men among them, from what Q could see. The last person through the door was a woman with shiny silver hair dressed in dark red robes. She stopped in the center of the dais, with the rest spreading out to her sides.

    Augmenting her voice, the year¡¯s commencement speech began. ¡°Welcome students, to the hollowed halls of the Mage Academy. These walls will be your home, your training ground, and your crucible. You will learn, grow, and prepare for a future that will not just serve yourselves, but this great kingdom. What you will learn here will shape you into the mage you are destined to become¡ªone who is brave in the face of danger, stands tall under the weight of duty and honor, and will use the magic they learn here to protect, defend, and heal the people of this realm. You will be tested during your time here in ways that you could never imagine. We will not only sharpen your minds, but your bodies, and your spirits. Within these walls, you will learn magic is not merely a weapon or a tool, it is a responsibility¡ªa commitment to those less able than yourselves¡ªto uphold the values that hold our kingdom together. The lessons you learn here will be vital, whether you are called to the battlefield, a flood zone, or the royal court. You are now part of a noble tradition. A lineage of mages who sat right where you are now. They have faced the trials of service and emerged stronger, wiser, and more capable. Understand that your time here is precious. You will only have two years to prepare yourselves for what lies ahead. Use this time wisely. Forge bonds with your peers that will see you through the dark times, because there will be many. When your instruction here concludes, you will enter the world as Mages of the realm, each of you a crucial piece of our kingdom¡¯s future. It is imperative that you take your studies seriously, approach every lesson with determination, and let dedication be your guide. Welcome to the Mage Academy. The Crown looks to you with expectation and hope. Now, let us begin.¡±

    With those parting words, the headmistress spun on her heel and disappeared through the rear doors, which closed behind her with a theatrical finality.

    ¡°Not one for pleasantries, is she?¡± Cedric whispered into the quiet, his voice carrying further than he intended, earning a few giggles or glares from the ladies that overheard.

    A black-robed instructor stepped forward, announcing, ¡°Each instructor will now read off the names of those first-years assigned to them. Once you hear your name, please wait to stand until everyone has been called. Then you may leave your seats to join your training groups and instructors.¡±

    There were forty-eight students in Q¡¯s class with ten instructors. Splitting the first-years into groups of five and two groups of four.

    The male mages were named first, and it was done alphabetically. With Vaelmara and Valtieri being so close together, they were placed in the same group. Q realized his grandfather may have had more than one reason for not registering him under Ashford.

    While the rest of the names were being called, Q leaned over and asked Ronan, ¡°If we are all meeting with the instructors after this, what is everyone in their second year supposed to be doing?¡±

    ¡°We have testing later this afternoon, so we have the morning off, but they want us here to fill the room and create the right effect.¡± Ronan glibly answered.

    Cedric, eavesdropping on their conversation, jumped in. ¡°Testing, oooh, what kind? I love showing off how great I am.¡±

    With a hushed laugh, Ronan shook his head, saying. ¡°You will take it yourselves in the next few days, but the instructors want us to knock it out first. They want to know if and how much we have improved since last year.¡±

    The instructors finishing their list of names, put an end to their discussion, and they stood as those around them rose from their seats. Saying their goodbyes, the trio split off for the day.

    Q and Cedric reached their instructor, one of the two males in the cadre. He looked to be in his mid to late-twenties, with long dark hair that touched his shoulders. He had a hawkish nose, but intelligent dark eyes that surveyed his group. They focused on Cedric for a moment before he asked, ¡°Vaelmara¡­ I thought I recognized the name. Is your mother Elara Vaelmara, the Mind Witch?¡±

    Cedric signed, but nodded his head in agreement, already knowing what the next question out of the man¡¯s mouth would be.

    ¡°Do you have her talent for mind magic?¡± Their instructor asked, hope, and a touch of excitement evident in his voice.

    And there it was. ¡°No.¡± Cedric said, gritting his teeth. ¡°I take after my father when it comes to magic. I can use Mental magic, just not to the same level as her, no one can.¡±

    To Cedric¡¯s great relief, their conversation was interrupted as two more joined their little trio.

    Mages Thorne and Wakefield, the final two members of their group, made a striking contrast. One was tall, with dusky skin and dark, wavy hair that cascaded to the middle of her back, while the other was shorter, her honey-blond hair braided and elegantly gathered at the nape of her neck.

    They introduced themselves, with Mage Thorne being the former and Wakefield the latter.

    Buford Burns, their Instructor, though, he requested they just call him Burns during training or Instructor Burns when others were present, led them out of the main hall and into what Q assumed, to be a classroom in a nearby building. The room¡¯s main entrance opened at the top, with tiered seating leading down to an open dais at the lowest level, where the instructor would likely stand to deliver their lectures.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Burns started with an overview of their daily routines.¡°Each morning after breakfast, you will report here. We¡¯ll spend an hour studying the rules and regulations essential for your time in the Core, and then an hour meditating to help you connect with your Gifts, in the hopes it will assist in their development. Following that, you¡¯ll join the other first-years in the large auditorium for general lectures on the five Gifts.¡±

    Mage Thorne raised a hand, grabbing Burns¡¯ attention, and asked. ¡°Why do we need to waste our time learning about all five, when most of us can only use two or three of them?¡±

    Burns nodded to the young woman, ¡°That is a fair question, and the answer is, so that you will understand the basics of what the other Gifts are capable of.¡±

    ¡°I get that,¡± she argued. ¡°But why would that be useful in a real scenario?¡±

    Burns looked at the file folder in his hand and flipped a few pages, before asking, ¡°Mage Thorne, you have access to Elemental and Physical magic, correct?¡±

    She flinched at the casual announcement of her Gifts, her gaze darting to the other students, a flicker of unease evident in her eyes.

    Noting her expression, Instructor Burns waved off her concern. ¡°You will be training with this group for the next year, Mage Thorne. You are each going to learn what the others are capable of to an uncomfortable degree. Which reminds me.¡± He said, looking directly at Q. ¡°I¡¯ve gone over all the testing results from your arrivals at the academy¡ªexcept for yours, Mage Valtieri. It seems Mage Hastings has somehow misplaced them.¡±

    Q dipped his head from his seat, ¡°My apologies, Instructor Burns. Would it suffice if I just shared which Gifts I have?¡±

    I doubt he would believe me if I just told him where my stellum count came in at.

    At the man¡¯s nod, Q, said, ¡°I have access to Elemental, Mental, Physical, and Transmutation magic.¡±

    A snort came from either Thorne or Wakefield. Q wasn¡¯t sure which. But Burn¡¯s eyes widened for a moment, before his expression turned skeptical. ¡°I would normally take you at your word.¡± The mage said slowly, ¡°But as there are less than forty mages in the entire kingdom that can make the same statement, and I know for a fact that Mage Hastings is aware anyone scoring over an eighty during their testing for stellum needs to be reported to the Headmistress¡­ I¡¯ll need a demonstration if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    Having no issues with the request. Q raised a hand, palm up, and conjured a vortex of air that ruffled the hair of those watching. Letting it die out, he lifted the heavy wooden table in front of him and Cedric with one hand. He let the table go while it was still a foot off the ground, and held it in place with his telekinesis for several seconds, earning a gasp from Mage Wakefield. Slowly, he returned it to the ground, where its legs touched down on the stone floor without a sound.

    He looked around for something smaller than the table to transmute, but Burns raised a hand, ¡°I will consider that acceptable proof, Mage Valtieri.¡± Instructor Burns said dryly. ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll see you cast Transmutation magic during your time here. I must admit, the speed with which you switch between Gifts is something few of our second-year students could manage.¡±

    Cedric muttered, ¡°Show-off.¡± But it was the other two mages whose reaction caught Q off guard. They sat openmouthed and wide eyed, staring at him in awe.

    His brows drew together as he asked, ¡°What¡¯d I do?¡±

    *****

    Mage Academy

    Headmistress¡¯s Chamber

    Headmistress Cassandra Moonscar stared at the man standing before her in stunned silence. This was not the way she thought the first day of classes would go.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, could you repeat that, please?¡±

    Instructor Burns cleared his throat and restated, ¡°Yes, headmistress. During my initial meeting with my new group of students, we were discussing why they would be learning about all five Gifts. It reminded me that I had not received the testing results for one of them. The student in question asked if just telling me would suffice, to which I agreed. He then proceeded to claim access to all but Healing. In my skepticism, I requested proof.¡± Burns took a moment, clearly shaken, before continuing, ¡°Headmistress¡ªthe demonstration the student put on¡­ is one I would have found difficult to even manage myself.¡°

    Cassandra stared at him with wide eyes. ¡°We¡¯ll come back to the fact we apparently have a student with over 80 stellum in this year¡¯s class. What exactly did he do?¡±

    Nodding rapidly, Burns explained. ¡°To start, it only took a moment for him to create a miniature cyclone in the palm of his hand that he controlled until it blew itself out. An act that I am uncertain our returning second-year students could have accomplished so smoothly. Then, he physically lifted the table in front of him as if it weighed nothing, and kept it aloft telekinetically. I didn¡¯t even realize he was no longer holding it, until I saw his hands by his side when it touched the ground. It was that precise headmistress.¡±

    ¡°What was the name of the student?¡± Cassandra asked, frowning. Realization striking a moment before Burns spoke. With dawning horror, she already knew the answer.

    ¡°Quinten Valtieri.¡±

    The Capital City of Gremelda

    Royal Palace - Royal Wing

    The royal family was seated in their private dining hall, enjoying a rare evening meal together. It seemed that as time passed, they were becoming more and more infrequent.

    An old tradition, begun when the royal children were young, had the king reading the day¡¯s reports over dessert, their contents sparking family discussions on their implications for the kingdom. Queen Clarissa had instituted the practice as a way to involve their children in matters of State and to better prepare them as leaders of the realm.

    The king began reading the third report from the Mage Academy aloud. But stopped suddenly to finish it on his own, his countenance changing the longer he read. Clarissa and his children watched in concern as frown lines cast Frederick¡¯s face into shadow.

    Unexpectedly, he angrily crumpled the page into a ball and threw it across the room. Turning to Clarissa, he proclaimed, ¡°By the falling stars, that family just keeps popping up like a thorn in my side. Why could it not have ended with the boy going to the academy, and I never having to hear about him again?¡±

    At the mention of a boy, the heads of both princesses Roslyn and Gwendolyn, locked onto their father, like birds of prey finding a field mouse in the open. ¡°What boy?¡± Roslyn, the eldest princess of 18 years, asked.

    Prince Estes, hearing her excitement, tuned back into the conversation from where he¡¯d been feeding one of the royal hounds under the table.

    The king conjured a small flame, and it flew across the room, turning the ball of crumpled paper to cinders and leaving a small scorch mark on the white stone.

    ¡°The norm-born.¡±

    The prince and princesses exchanged looks. This was news to them. ¡°Norm-born, what do you mean, norm-born? A boy? I thought that was impossible.¡± Asked Prince Estes.

    Clarissa was the one to answer, ¡°We thought so as well, dear, but the Archmage reported that there have been a few documented cases over the last several hundred years.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t we need more male gifted, papa?¡± Gwendolyn asked, her lips turned down in a thoughtful frown.

    ¡°Yes dear, we do. The issue your father has isn¡¯t actually with the boy. He has done nothing wrong, it is more of the circumstances surrounding him that are the problem.¡± Her mother clarified.

    Prince Estes, already bored with the conversation, grumbled. ¡°If he is at the Mage Academy, he is hardly a boy. I was leading men to war when I was only a year older than he must be.¡±

    Covering her mouth, Princess Roslyn murmured just loud enough to be heard, ¡°And we all heard about how well that went.¡±

    Turning red in embarrassment, the prince opened his mouth to retaliate when Gwendolyn interrupted with another question. ¡°What did he do that needed to be reported to you, papa?¡±

    Sighing, the king answered, ¡°Nothing, my dear. Other than putting on an interesting demonstration of his Gifts. It was included in the report because he tested at 150 stellum. It is¡ª¡±

    He was cut off when the prince jumped to his feet, spluttering, ¡°150 stellum! That¡¯s more than me! By the stars, that¡¯s more than the Archmage.¡±

    Staring down at his son, the king nodded and said, ¡°Yes, which is why it was included in the report. We have so few gifted at that level, any time someone tests over 80 stellum I am notified.¡±

    Roslyn tapped her chin, side-eying her father. Turning to her sister with a vulpine smile, she suggested, ¡°A young, powerful mage. I can¡¯t wait to meet him. I bet he is right around our age Gwen, who knows, he could be the future husband to you or I.¡±

    The kings head snapped in her direction, ¡°Absolutely not, you cannot marry the son of a traitor.¡± His voice cracking through the air like a whip, making everyone at the table but his wife flinch.

    The queen¡¯s sigh filled the silence that followed the king¡¯s outburst. She had never agreed with Frederick¡¯s decision to keep his mistake hidden. And based on the frequency with which the young Quinten managed to irritate her husband. She had a sneaking suspicion this would not be the last time Frederick would be cursing the poor boy¡¯s name.

    Fixing her gaze on her daughters, she mused silently, What if Roslyn¡¯s words strike closer to the truth than she intends? Surely, not even this boy was blessed by that much stardust.

 B1C20 - Training Partners & a Taste of Humility

    The rest of Q¡¯s morning progressed more in line with what he expected of a typical day of training at the Academy. After the initial two hours with Burns to start their day, the remaining time before lunch was spent in the auditorium where they would be lectured on a rotating schedule covering all five Gifts of magic. Followed by a break for lunch, before rejoining Instructor Burns for a few hours of practical training.

    Leaving the classroom, they walked in silence, Burns showing the way to their first joint class. Much like the room they¡¯d just left, only on a larger scale, the auditorium was built on a three-to-one ratio. Instead of twenty to thirty students, you could easily fit a hundred along its tiered seating. Rather than a dais, a proper stage made up the lowest level, with room for exhibitions and presentations.

    Theirs was the last group to enter, and eyes followed them as they made their way toward a section of open tables. Q was pleasantly surprised their quartet ended up staying together when they took their seats, rather than the ladies splitting off.

    The day¡¯s lecture was brief and to the point. Instructor Rawlings had a second-year aide pass out a list of required reading, with the books available for check out from the academy library. Followed by a detailed overview of what to expect from the class throughout the year. She ended up releasing them back to their instructors less than an hour later. Q¡¯d noticed them standing along the back wall and had wondered why they hadn¡¯t left to take care of more important things. The answer seemed obvious now.

    Burns escorted them from the building and into an outside courtyard. Guiding them to a secluded corner, he turned to the students and announced, ¡°I usually prefer to take this time to try to get to know each other. As I mentioned earlier this morning, you are going to be working very closely for the foreseeable future.¡± He paused, shifting from foot to foot, peering up at the sky overhead before nodding to himself. ¡°Unfortunately, you are going to have to start without me. I have an urgent meeting with the headmistress that I cannot afford to miss. Take this time to learn about each other, and I will see you all on the training field after lunch. If you will excuse me.¡± Waving abruptly, he departed so quickly, Q was certain he¡¯d tapped his Gift for a boost.

    Watching the man disappear between buildings, Q asked, ¡°That was weird, right?¡±

    ¡°Odd as shit,¡± agreed Cedric. ¡°My bet is he¡¯s going to report you to the headmistress¡±

    Turning to face his friend, his brows knit in question, he asked, ¡°Report me. For what? The thing earlier this morning? And didn¡¯t you agree to knock off the betting thing?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he would lose this one,¡± commented Mage Thorne. Speaking directly to them for the first time, her eyes locked on Q with intention.

    Both boys shifted to regard her. Taking the opportunity to do the same for Mage Wakefield, who fidgeted uncomfortably under their combined gaze.

    ¡°Why do you say that?¡± He genuinely wanted to know. Q didn¡¯t feel as though anything he demonstrated was remarkable enough to warrant such attention.

    Surprisingly enough, it was Mage Wakefield, who, though she refused to look at either boy, answered for her. ¡°He¡¯s definitely going to notify the headmistress about you having four gifts, but he¡¯s also going to report how well you can use them. For example, I only have two gifts of my own, Healing and Mental. My focus coming here is to learn how to be a healer, but that doesn¡¯t mean I haven¡¯t tried to learn how to use my Mental abilities.¡± Looking directly at him for the first time, she questioned. ¡°Do you know the heaviest thing I can lift with my Gift? A book, and not a thick one.¡± The tone of sincerity in her voice did more than get her point across. It made Q feel like an ass. Even though he hadn¡¯t gone all out to show off, Q could have proven his Gifts without putting on the display he had.

    Cedric¡¯s nose twitched as he fought back a smile. Failing partially, with his lips curling up at the edges, he asked. ¡°Did she just call you a braggart?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Q admitted with a heavy sigh, ¡°And rightfully so.¡± Facing the two mages, he softened his tone and bowed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that, and I owe you both an apology. I guess I was showing off a little. I¡¯m Mage Valtieri, but please call me Q, and this is Cedric Vaelmara. It is a pleasure to be on a team with you.¡±

    The two ladies traded looks, before Thorne replied, ¡°I am Isabella Thorne, but my friends call me Izzy.¡±

    ¡°And I am Helena Wakefield, and just Helena, please. It¡¯s nice to meet you both. Neither of us were sure what to expect when we found out we would be paired with male mages, but you both seem very nice.¡± She admitted, forcing the words out in a rush, her cheeks turning a faint shade of rose.

    Taken aback by her response, Q realized it was unlikely they¡¯d ever spoken to a male mage outside of their immediate family before arriving at the academy. Given the unfortunate reputation spread by some of his more¡­ lecherous male counterparts, he could understand their apprehension. The King¡¯s Edicts, in his opinion, had only served to bring out the worst in both men and women.

    Aiming to lighten the mood, Cedric said. ¡°No worries there, my ladies. If you feel like you¡¯re missing out, I can be of service.¡± Bowing low to them both, he swept out an arm as if at court, and began to praise their beauty, composure, and anything else that readily came to mind. Q, unable to take it, pushed his friend into a nearby bush. Their antics bringing a smile to Izzy¡¯s lips while Helena laughed behind a raised hand.

    ¡°Definitely nothing like what we expected,¡± Izzy confessed, a small chuckle slipping through.

    From that point, the conversation flowed more naturally, each offering brief glimpses into their pasts. Helena shared that her Gift had been an unexpected blessing to her parents. Like Q, she was norm-born. Her father served as a knight of repute, and her mother was the third daughter of an impoverished baron. Out of three children, she alone had the Gift manifest.

    Izzy came from a somewhat more affluent family. The only daughter of a Baron, With her eldest brother being groomed to manage and inherit, her second had chosen to remain in the Mage Core after his mandatory service to try to make a name for himself. That left Izzy in a precarious position, with her likely being expected to make a strategic marriage to strengthen the family.

    When the campus bells chimed, signaling the lunch hour, Q and Cedric invited their two new acquaintances to join them. Happy to accept, the four made their way to the main hall. A quiet optimism trailing behind at the possibility of forming new friendships.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Grabbing their food, they sat down at an empty section of table, and were pleasantly surprised when Ronan joined a short while later. The five of them shared an enjoyable meal, continuing to get to know each other. Helena slowly started to come out of her shell, in large part due to Cedric¡¯s increasingly outlandish suggestions about what the rest of the day might entail. After dropping off their dishes and saying their goodbyes to Ronan. They headed over to the training field en mass, as the rest of their class filed out of the main hall.

    Q hadn¡¯t yet had the opportunity to observe the other first-year groups, and couldn¡¯t resist doing so now. It was obvious that some of the other groups weren¡¯t faring quite as well as his own. Irritation and fatigue were evident on several faces. During lunch, he¡¯d also noticed that some students had chosen to break off and sit with friends instead of bonding with their assigned group. He tucked that information away for later.

    Reaching their destination, Q realized the term "training field" was somewhat misleading. It referred to a sprawling complex centered around a main field, roughly a hundred yards long and fifty wide, running the length of the building. Flanked by ten smaller fields¡ªfive on each side. These smaller areas, divided by high stone walls. Offered containment and a measure of privacy for individual or small group training sessions.

    They found Burns waiting for them in the center of the main area, along with four other instructors.

    ¡°Good afternoon, students! I hope you didn¡¯t eat too much over lunch, or you may come to regret it. Now, these two-hour blocks are free for us Instructors to plan as we wish, with the understanding that we tailor them to best meet the needs of our students. Early on, while we are still getting to know your strengths and weaknesses,¡± He paused, gesturing to the four black-robed mages to his left and right. ¡°My fellow instructors and I like to start off each new year with an hour of non gift-assisted exercise to gauge your health and fitness levels, at least until we know where to better focus our efforts to help you improve.

    Following along as Instructor Burns put the twenty-five or so students through an exercise routine of his own making. It only took a few minutes before Q began to suspect there was some truth to the rumors¡ªnobles who anticipated awakening a Gift, rarely dedicated effort to strengthening or improving their physical condition.

    Instructor Burns guided them through a series of bodyweight exercises designed to build a mage¡¯s physical strength. These were followed by a lap around the field, then a repeat of the routine. The cycle continued for the remainder of the hour, testing the student¡¯s endurance, before he finally had them walk a cool-down lap to steady their pounding hearts.

    The second block of class saw just the four of them being led by Burns out of the main training area and into one of the smaller fields. Holding the stone door open for each of them as he entered, he gave them a once over.

    Wakefield and Thorne performed as expected. They will both benefit from continued physical exertion, Burns thought. A closer look at Mages Vaelmara and Valtieri, showed them having hardly broken a sweat. He¡¯d noticed it early in the routine that neither of them showed any signs of struggling, but he didn¡¯t believe it was due to cheating and using their gifts. Remembering how they¡¯d moved, Vaelmara has had some form of weapons training, and Valtieri flowed like water in comparison.

    Asking the group, but looking more toward the more exhausted of the four, he asked. ¡°Do you know why some of us have you start the year like this, instead of jumping straight into working with your Gifts?¡±

    ¡°Preparing us for torture,¡± Thorne groaned in suggestion.

    Chuckling, Burns shook his head, ¡°No. Honestly, a few of the others do it because they are lazy, and it saves them having to come up with an instruction plan for a few weeks.¡± Looking at each of them in turn, he continued, ¡°I do it because I believe its value far out ways the effort it demands. Why do you think that is, and give it some thought. I¡¯d like a real answer this time, please.¡±

    ¡°It will help our endurance while in the field¡­?¡± Wakefield suggested, hesitantly.

    Nodding his head, Instructor Burns said, ¡°That¡¯s true enough.¡±

    ¡°Because a punch to the face can take you out just as well as a fireball.¡± Cedric added with confidence.

    Burns opened his mouth to reject Cedric¡¯s answer, but caught himself. He had to begrudgingly admit that the answer wasn¡¯t actually wrong, it was just not to his taste. Sighing, he admitted, ¡°While crudely put, you are correct. Sometimes things happen while in the field and your Gifts will be unable to save you. I hate to say it, but being in better shape than the person next to you can be what keeps you alive in that situation.¡± Pausing a moment to let the truth of those harsh words sink in, he continued. ¡°Both of those answers are true, but they weren¡¯t what I was looking for. You may not be aware, but the strength, endurance, and health of your body can actually impact your Gifts, improving your ability to work magic to a degree. Especially for someone with a Physical gift.¡± Burns explained with a pointed look toward Izzy.

    Raising a hand, Helena asked, ¡°If strengthening your body improves your Gifts as well, why isn¡¯t that common knowledge or something the Mage Council recommends new mages do when they register and get tested?¡±

    Scoffing, Burns replied, ¡°I¡¯d like to say incompetence, but that¡¯s only partially true. A larger portion being that Physical is one of the most common types of Gift in the kingdom and Elemental being the other, mages typically tend to focus on the flashier magic that comes with the latter when they can. Physical gifts, when considered by themselves, are commonly seen as inferior.¡±

    ¡°Kind of like norm-born, then.¡± Q grumbled to himself. He hadn¡¯t spoken loudly, but Burns must have been augmenting his hearing because he picked up on the words.

    ¡°Yes, just like how norm-born are looked down on.¡± Pausing to consider, Burns added. ¡°For much the same reason, actually. It is seen as too closely related to manual labor, and they, the Gifted community, like to consider themselves above it.¡±

    Unclasping a satchel Q had seen him grab at the end of their workout, their instructor removed a stack of papers. Passing a sheet to each of them, they saw a check-list of magic detailing what would be expected of them in order to progress to their second-year.

    ¡°You¡¯re just giving this to us? The entire year¡¯s requirements?¡± Q asked, a quick grin flashing across his face. But it slowly turned into a frown as he made his way down the list.

    ¡°Wait¡ªthat¡¯s it?¡± Q blurted, a beat behind Izzy¡¯s own exclamation. ¡°We have to learn all of these?¡±

    Cedric winced as the two traded glances. Q could see the hurt his words caused. He started to apologize, again, but she turned back to Instructor Burns before he could. One look at the pink coloring Helena¡¯s cheeks, told him he¡¯d stepped in it with her too. Nice going, you¡¯re on a roll today, aren¡¯t you? He berated himself.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Burns said flatly as he stared Q down. ¡°That is the full list the Mage Academy requires of its students to move on to the next year.¡±

    Shifting to address Izzy¡¯s remark, he explained. ¡°If Gift control was structured or something we could easily define and therefore teach, then we would likely present these to you one at a time in the optimal manner that gradually increased in difficulty as the year went on. Unfortunately, the nature of our magic¡ªand the uniqueness of each person¡¯s Gift¡ªrequires us to present the full list and navigate it together, with you as the student and me as your mentor. Some of the workings on that list will come easily for you, and others will not. We will have to handle each one individually, but do not fret, we have the entire year to manage it.¡±

    An uneasy blend of emotions settled over the group: anxiety paired with concern, and frustration laced with confusion.

    Noting their expressions, Burns clapped his hands together, getting their attention. ¡°Enough of that, it is too early in the year to get so morose. Now, I¡¯m not technically authorized to have you do this, but it¡¯s my favorite part of instructing at the academy¡ªdueling!¡±

 B1C21 - Perspective

    ¡°Mages Thorne and Wakefield, I am going to have you go second. I have a sense that we¡¯ll see quite the show if we let those two go first.¡± Motioning for them to join him, they made their way to the raised dais that sat overlooking the room. It would allow them full viewing of the field, while still managing to keep them out of whatever transpired below.

    Exchanging glances, Cedric grinned at Q in excitement. Q, for his part, still felt guilty after his earlier comments, wasn¡¯t feeling his usual enthusiasm for a fight. ¡°We need restrictions. I¡¯m not going all out, definitely not after this morning. And we have half a day¡¯s worth of classes left. Who knows what they are going to have us do.¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine. No steel orbs. You know I hate having to defend against those.¡± With another grin, he added, ¡°They are exhausting, and like you said, we still have several hours¡¯ worth of classes to get through.¡±

    Each field held a pair of rings located on opposite sides of the room, meant to indicate starting positions inside the rings .

    Burns waited until both young men were in their places before calling out, ¡°This is a practice bout meant to showcase your current fighting abilities. Keep your attacks non-lethal. We have Healing available, but it can not bring back the dead. When I give the signal, you may start.¡±

    ¡°Begin!¡±

    Having dueled Q as many times as he had, Cedric was already shifting his forearms, covering them in heat-resistant scales, when Burns¡¯ voice rang out. Sprinting forward, feet shifting, and leaving his boots lying in the starting circle. The angle of his legs changed as the bones took on a backward bend, a form he¡¯d copied from quick footed animals for the additional movement and agility they granted.

    Q was a tough bastard to fight, even limiting his ranged capabilities to just Elemental magic.

    The pact dirt in front of Cedric rose up in an attempt to trip him. He leapt over the obstruction when a strong blast of wind caught him in the chest. Forcing him to reorient in mid-air, managing to land back on his feet like a cat. He hurled himself to the side just in time, the ground churning violently where he¡¯d been only moments before. Panting, he glared across the field to where Q still stood in his starting circle, a small smile on his face.

    Asshole!

    A byproduct of all the time the two of them spent completing obstacle courses gave Q a healthy appreciation for the impact that difficult terrain could have on a fight. It was an aspect of his Elemental gift that he ruthlessly utilized. Turning the battlefield into his own trap field, forcing his opponents to become distrustful of the ground beneath their feet, and proving to be a successful tactic, psychologically.

    Need had forced Cedric to adapt, and to use his magic in a way not even his mother had thought to try.

    Dodging a thrown fireball, he took off, heading straight for Q, and was ready when the ground before him started to shift. Knowing Q would time it for when he had no other option but to jump, he did so. Creating a plane of telekinetic force right where his left foot would be coming down after his leap.

    It had taken him months of practice and repeated failures to accurately and instinctively judge where he needed to place each force plane. It was something he could only do once. Currently, the mental gymnastics needed to plan a second step were too difficult for him to manage.

    Now, the trick was to keep Q guessing at where he would touch back down. Regardless of his friend stepping in it earlier with Helena and Izzy, he knew Q would want to put on a good showing just as much as Cedric did and would struggle to hold back. Unfortunately for Cedric, his opponent was just as good up close as he was at a distance.

    Instructor Burns stared, open-mouthed, as he watched Mage Vaelmara leap off of an invisible platform, completely changing directions to avoid a third fireball from Mage Valtieri.

    ¡°How did he do that?¡± Whispered Izzy, loud enough for Burns to overhear with his boosted hearing.

    ¡°Physical manifestation of telekinetic force.¡± He responded absentmindedly as he thought over the implications. ¡°Son of the Mind Witch, indeed.¡±

    ¡°I hope you do not expect to see¡ªthat, from us,¡± Izzy commented dryly as they watched the utter nonsense continue below them.

    Q struggled not to smile as he listened in on the discussion coming from above, thanks to his augmented ears. He watched as Cedrick quickly closed the distance.

    Rolling his shoulders, Q prepared himself mentally, exhaling, and releasing some of the tension locking up his muscles. He was going to need their full use if he was going to fight his friend hand-to-hand. The years Cedric had been learning from Q, had improved his abilities by leaps and bounds. But in a straight fight, Q could still manage to stand toe-to-toe with his friend, even in this larger and stronger form.

    If only just, Q admitted to himself. The gap in their skills was shrinking with each passing day as Q continued to train him, and Cedric¡¯s ability to move in his shifted forms was constantly improving.

    I am going to need to find a way to get faster, he told himself as he watched Cedric¡¯s body shift once more. Growing larger and thicker in the shoulders, the changes working their way down his arms as they grew in length. His skin darkened in color, going from red-tinted scales to a grey, pebbled, and leathery texture. Q knew the nails on each hand would be elongating, and his opponent¡¯s feet would be turning into hooves to improve his ability to build traction and better support his increase in weight. With the whole picture formed, it was a rather terrifying sight to behold.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Towering over Q now, Cedric created an imposing figure. One that was quickly bearing down on him.

    Stepping out of the starting circle for the first time since the duel began. Q dashed forward, pushing energy through his muscles and enhancing his speed.

    Shifting to the side, he dodged Cedric¡¯s Initial charge. Launching himself into the air, his return strike being blocked by an overly muscled high guard. Blow after blow, the two exchanged strikes. Q using his opponent¡¯s height and bulk against him where he could and avoiding it where he couldn¡¯t. Cedric¡¯s defenses had reached the point that Q was unable to deal any meaningful damage with his bare hands, even with the hammer blow-like strikes his Gift enhanced strength brought to bear. Forcing Q to either get creative, or start wearing down his opponent¡¯s enhanced endurance.

    He ducked under a strong hook and stepped to his left. Intending to get around his friend¡¯s guard and respond with another blow to the kidney. He was instead met with a solid, invisible wall that put a stop to his smooth transition outside of Cedric¡¯s striking range. Reacting on instinct, Q pushed off the hidden obstacle and let loose a blast of air at the ground beneath his feet. Propelling himself clear of the area in a moment of uncontrolled flight. Corkscrewing through the air, Q landed gracelessly a dozen feet away. Rolling to his feet, he grinned at his opponent.

    ¡°Telekinetic barrier walling me off? You finally got that to work?¡±

    Cedric¡¯s grin was answer enough, his jutting lower jaw and enlarged canines protruding menacingly over his upper lip.

    ¡°Well done, my friend. That nearly had me.¡±

    With no more interest in talking, the two rushed forward once more. Q, forgetting all about those watching from above, was too excited to see how this new variable would change the fight.

    *****

    Q inevitably ended their duel by trapping Cedric¡¯s foot in stone for just long enough that Q was able to condense water from the surrounding air. Pulling the heat from it and forming a blade of ice that he held just before his opponent¡¯s wide eye.

    Burns called the fight to an end, requesting that they join him up on the dais. Not saying a word about their duel, he just motioned for the next pair to take their positions below.

    When Burns called the duel to a start, it was with the hungry gazes of Q and Cedric watching from above. What followed was to them, a rather boring and straightforward exchange of Elemental magic against Mental defense, only lasting long enough for Izzy to get close enough to disable Helena physically, Pinning her arms until her opponent called out her surrender.

    Cedric gave voice to Q¡¯s own thoughts. ¡°That was rather¡­ basic?¡± Saying it quietly in an effort to not be overheard by their fellow mages.

    Burns snorted, giving the younger man a side-eye. ¡°That,¡± he said with emphasis. ¡°Is exactly what I would expect to see from a pair of first years, in what for many, is their first magical duel.¡±

    Q spoke up, objecting, ¡°Surely, other mages teach their family members magic once their gift manifests.¡±

    Nodding, Burns explained, ¡°Of course they do, but it is more piecemeal advice and suggestions on things to try for most. Sure, some of the older families have special techniques, but they aren¡¯t going to teach them to a new mage until after they leave the academy. They wouldn¡¯t want to risk an instructor piecing together how their special casting is done.¡± The venom in his tone ringing through clearly. Pausing for a moment to collect himself, he continued, ¡°I can tell that you two likely spent hours each day training under supervision. Do not take what I am saying as a rebuke. We are each born with advantages in life, and you have obviously put in the effort and not chosen to waste yours. But, your expectations of your fellow students needs adjusting, if what you just witnessed was a surprise to you.¡±

    He stopped to give the young men beside him a long look. ¡°I only thought it in passing earlier, but we may want to consider speaking with the Headmistress about testing you two out of your first year. It hasn¡¯t been done in decades, most students would rather spend the full two years at the Academy before their service to the Core begins, but based on what I just saw, I can¡¯t imagine you will learn much as a first-year. ¡°Turning back to face the approaching ladies, he added, ¡°Either way, while I am your instructor, I will lean on the two of you often to help teach your fellow students. You may be surprised by how much you can benefit from it yourselves.¡±

    Extending a hand, he stopped Izzy and Helena at the foot of the stairs, proclaiming, ¡±Well done, Mage Thorne, Mage Wakefield. We have time for a short debrief before you all split into your afternoon courses.¡±

    Just before descending the stairs, Burns hesitated, casting a glance back over his shoulder. ¡°If you two are willing to take my advice on such a short acquaintance, you may not want to advertise your abilities to such an extent with the other instructors. Doing so may paint an unnecessary target on your backs.¡±

    Seated on the main floor in a circle surrounding Instructor Burns, he gave the ladies encouraging feedback, telling them that their duel was exactly what he hoped to see for incoming first-years. His words fell somewhat flat after watching Q and Cedric battle it out, but his warm and sincere smile let his intentions shine through, regardless.

    From there, the conversation moved on to the remainder of the day¡¯s schedule. They would be separating for the next three hours for specialized training in their individual schools of magic. The curriculum was not built for the four hours of magic study it would require to cover all of Q¡¯s Gifts, but Burns planned to solve that issue by training Q in mind magic personally after dinner each evening. It would extend his day by a full hour¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t complain, not knowing the man was sacrificing an hour of his own time to do it.

    Once that last block of training was over, the rest of the evening would be his own to self-study, practice, and relax. All-in-all, their schedules wouldn''t be much different from how Q and Cedric spent their days before coming to the academy. The largest difference being the addition of Izzy and Helena. Who¡¯d remained quiet since they¡¯d watched the boys duel. Asking questions periodically, but keeping to themselves, much like they had when first introduced.

    Burns directed each of them on where they needed to go to attend their next class. Before dismissing them with a parting request for Cedric to join Q in their Mental training after dinner that night.

    Rising to his feet, Q watched as Izzy and Helena made their way quickly toward the door without a word of farewell. The sight left him feeling¡­ off, he thought. This place isn¡¯t what I¡¯d hoped it¡¯d be. He was having a hard time putting an emotion to how he felt right at that moment. The excitement of his next class, this one dedicated to the use of, and not just the theory behind each Gift. Was tempered by the warning Burns gave regarding their expectations, it left him feeling a bit hollow. The anticipation he¡¯d carried for months, imagining grand displays of magic, now felt strangely hollow.

 B1C22 - A Show Of Water

    Walking into the auditorium, Q was greeted by the stares of a sea of unknown faces. Stopping just past the threshold, his heart skipped a beat as the heavy doors slammed shut behind him. He ignored the hair on his arms standing on end and forced himself to take another step forward. Intending to merge with the crowd, two faces he did recognize oozed from the mass of students to bar his way. Just seeing the two together would have been enough to form a pit in Q¡¯s gut, but their matching sneers managed to give the thing, sharp edges, that tore at his insides.

    ¡°What are you doing here, traitor¡¯s son?¡± Viscount Reginald Hargrove asked, projecting his voice in an attempt to catch the attention of those around them, accomplishing his goal when several gasps rang out from among the crowd. The words traitor¡¯s son, stealing the attention of everyone who heard them. Whispers, coming like echoes as they repeated over and over The students attempted to puzzle out who¡¯s son he might be, as if they could do so based on appearance alone.

    Q leveled a glare at the two, and when he spoke, he enunciated clearly. Giving each word time to land with great effect. ¡°I see you learned nothing from our last meeting, Reggie. Who¡¯d you have fix the nose? They did a stellar job.¡±

    Mage Taylor Hastings stepped forward, showing his support of the other boy and asked, ¡°What, traitor¡¯s son? You don¡¯t like the truth?¡± With an exaggerated motion, he peered around Q as if looking for something, or someone. ¡°Where is your friend? Has my brother whisked him away in his perversion already?¡±

    Raising a brow, Q couldn¡¯t stop the smirk, tugging up the corner of his mouth. ¡°That is the second time you¡¯ve commented on my proclivities. Are you asking for yourself? If so, I must inform you, I¡¯m not interested in men. I wish you luck in finding a partner though.¡±

    Taylor spluttered in outrage. Literal spit flying through the air, forcing several of the spectators avidly watching the drama unfold, back several paces in search of safety.

    Taking advantage of the mage¡¯s inability to form words, Q stalked forward, staring down at the smaller man. ¡°If not, I would suggest you keep your concerns to yourself, or I will be more than happy to give you the same instruction I gave your friend there.¡± Indicating a startled Reginald with a nod.

    Such an open invitation to violence made the pair hesitate, one from experience, the other in disbelief.

    ¡°Youyou can¡¯t just threaten a Duke¡¯s son like that,¡± Taylor argued in a voice that cracked half-way through.

    A wintry smile spread across Q¡¯s face as he asked, ¡°Duke¡¯s son¡­? Aren¡¯t you just Mage Hastings here at the Academy? Weren¡¯t those your words to your brother only a few days ago?¡±

    Before either boy could respond, the rear doors were unceremoniously thrown open and out walked their instructor, this one unfamiliar to Q.

    Gritting his teeth in frustration at the ill timing. He¡¯d been winning their verbal duel, but the damage was already done. He could hear the words traitor and son continue to spread around the room even without boosting his hearing.

    The instructor paused, ensuring they had everyone¡¯s attention, and a moment later, Q felt the air start to stir. The elemental manipulation bringing the instructor¡¯s voice to each of the students as if she were right beside them.

    ¡°Good afternoon, students. I hope you have enjoyed your first morning at the academy. My name is Instructor Pascal and I will be teaching you the practical application of Elemental magic. We will be starting with water, as it is the least destructive element at your current stages. Before we head to the water chamber, does anyone have any questions?¡±

    Reginald raised a hand and pointed at Q with the other, calling. ¡°Can he even cast magic? His father wasn¡¯t even a mage.¡± Further fueling the intrigue burning its way through the gathered students.

    Clenching his fists in anger. Q fought back the impulse to send one of the steel balls in his pocket at the back of the loudmouth¡¯s head.

    Keeping her gaze firmly locked on the boy and not where he pointed, she replied, ¡°He wouldn¡¯t be here if he couldn¡¯t.¡±

    When she received no new questions of substance. Pascal took a deliberate step forward and the students instinctively cleared a path. They trailed behind like a flock of ducklings as she led them from the room.

    Q was the last one out. The curious glances he¡¯d received all week, giving way to upturned noses and partial sneers, the unknown faces, formed a macabre river as it flowed by.

    Good riddance, Q thought when the last student passed, clearing his dry and scratchy throat.

    The water chamber was an interesting room. Similar to Q¡¯s own magic chamber back in County Wycliffe. The walls and floor were made from white stone, with a trench full of water flowing around the perimeter of the room. The students had to cross over a small bridge to get to the center of the chamber. A large, shallow fountain filled the man-made island, its walls raised a foot above the stone floor. The pool likely held only a few inches of water, but was the size of a standard dueling circle and provided more than enough space for two combatants to face off.

    Instructor Pascal removed her shoes, the water reaching the tops of her ankles as she slid her feet into the glass-like surface of the still pool. Air circulated throughout the chamber, once more carrying Pascal¡¯s words to the assembled students. ¡°Each of the elemental chambers was designed to aid in the creation, control, and defense against its designated element. The water chamber includes strategic drains to manage overflows, whereas the fire chamber has been stripped of anything flammable. These rooms are to help you with the basics. Do not become dependent on them to the point they become a crutch. It does not matter how well you control the water in this pool, if you cannot summon it on a dry, sweltering day when you need it in the field.¡±

    Q found that he agreed with Instructor Pascal¡¯s assessment, her advice, mirroring lessons from his grandparents. Her straightforward, no-nonsense approach to instruction reminded him of training with a veteran master-at-arms. A similarity he couldn¡¯t help but appreciate.

    ¡°Is there anyone here with an affinity for water that would like to give a demonstration?¡± Their instructor asked, addressing the group.

    After already causing a scene this afternoon? Q thought, No thank you. He had no interest in volunteering, even without Burns¡¯ advice.

    For a moment, no one came forward. Then the crowd jostled as people were pushed aside and a short, red-headed girl stepped out. Pascal gave her a small smile, the first expression Q had seen on the woman¡¯s face other than stern professionalism since she¡¯d walked in to the auditorium. Beckoning the young lady to join her in the fountain, the instructor leapt out a moment later, clearing the way for the mage and her demonstration.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The redhead cast a nervous glance over the group, before taking a long, slow, deep breath. Raising her arms, she began to sing. Her voice, a haunting melody, calling out to the water behind her, rose up like a wave in response. When she started to dance, so too did the wave. Humanoid shapes emerging one by one, arranging themselves in the background as if members of a dance troupe.

    Q stood mesmerized, having only faint memories of holding his mother¡¯s hand, as they followed his father through town. Heading to watch a show by troubadours traveling through their lands when he was six or seven years old.

    Throwing her arms forward, the cadre of dancers charge ahead, momentarily obscuring the mage¡¯s movements from view. She reemerged in their center, her hands tracing gentle arcs through the air. Each twitch of her fingers commanding the flowing movements of her translucent partners, as they wove a bewitching pattern while remaining perfectly in time with her song.

    The young woman¡¯s performance ended far too quickly, with her voice rising in a crescendo. Reaching its peak, she cut the sound off with a flare of her arms. The water-dancers ceased their animation on the same beat, falling back into the pool as simple water once more.

    Total silence engulfed the chamber until someone began to clap. It was quickly taken up by others, Q included.

    Instructor Pascal stepped back into the pool, and gave the girl a brilliant smile, tinged with a touch of knowing. ¡°That was a surprise, Mage¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Mage Arita Beaumont, Instructor Pascal.¡± Arita panted. Offering a bow of her own as she hopped down to the stone floor.

    A scoff from behind drew Q¡¯s attention. ¡°And every boy here is going to remember it, well done¡­¡± the female voice mumbled. He looked around, but couldn¡¯t identify the speaker. He realized with a start that the mage, Arita, could very well have volunteered and put on the show for the sole purpose of being remembered.

    Maybe the students here aren¡¯t so simple after all, Q admitted to himself,

    Interrupting Q¡¯s thoughts, Instructor Pascal addressed the group, ¡°That was a fantastic demonstration of water manipulation, which, at its simplest, is exactly what our Elemental gifts allow us to do. Now, spread out around the pool, I want each of you to¡­¡±

    The rest of the class was spent going over basic forms of water manipulation. Giving the instructor an opportunity to get a feel for their current skill levels.

    Q did as requested, but refrained from showing anything more than the basics that their instructor asked for, nor did he experiment like he normally would when working with his grandmother. This freed up his concentration and allowed him to watch his classmates instead. Some of them, maybe in an attempt to make their own impressions, pushed far past the simple orb of water they were supposed to be controlling. He saw several students with altered forms in intricate shapes, from a cat to a horse, and in one case, even a mythical dragon.

    When the bell rang, Q was disappointed that the trend of his classes at the academy starting at the earliest stages of training, stages he¡¯d mastered years ago, left him unsatisfied. He¡¯d expected more from his fellow mages than what he was seeing. Other than mage Beaumont, whom truly did seem to have an affinity for water, everyone else seemed to be at a fairly novice level of skill. Roughly the same as his Mental gift had been when Elara had first started training him nearly two years earlier.

    If this is what the kingdom had to offer as future Core mages, they had a long way to go if even half of the things Q¡¯s grandfather mentioned in his letters regarding the war with the Drakovians were accurate.

    *****

    Q¡¯s second class of the afternoon, Transmutation, was by far the most outwardly complex Gift. It required a strong understanding of both the source and the result materials to have any level of success. Otherwise, you ran the risk of destabilizing the entire structure, turning the whole working into a pile of dust.

    He was glad when he saw Cedric walk through the door. They were both excited to see in what ways others had found to use this particular Gift, given that Q¡¯s grandmother had already claimed she¡¯d taught him all she knew on the subject.

    This class had them meeting in one of the smaller lecture chambers within the main hall. This class appeared to be half the size of his last. While Q¡¯s elemental class held 16 students, there were only eight in attendance, including the two of them.

    Sitting down beside him, Cedric asked, ¡°How was Elemental?¡± Continuing to talk without waiting for Q to reply, he said, ¡°Mental was sort of awkward for me. The instructor recognized my last name, and when she found out who my mother was, demanded a demonstration. I just sort of stood there like a show pony, random shit spinning around me, just feeling stupid.¡± He finished, dramatically setting his forehead down on the stone desktop with a groan.

    Q winced, understanding the sting of being reminded, yet again, that his friend¡¯s magic took after his father¡¯s more than his mother¡¯s. Letting out a sigh of his own, Q shared, ¡°Fine, except for Ronan¡¯s brother, and our friend Reginald are both in it with me. I¡¯m pretty sure everyone will know who my father was by the end of the day.¡±

    The doors opened and a black robed instructor strolled through, grabbing their attentions. To Q¡¯s surprise, it was Burns¡¯ male counterpart. He looked around at the assembled students, an odd glint in his eyes that came off, almost, predatory. Spending far longer than Q thought was appropriate on the ladies of their class, it was then that he realized he and Cedric were the only male students present.

    The instructor skimmed over the pair with a sniff, addressing the room. ¡°I am Instructor Highbridge. Yes, the Archmage¡¯s son, and I will be teaching you the intricacies of Transmutation.

    His introduction caused a murmuring to break out among the students, one that he patiently waited to end, smiling all the while.

    With a mental snort, Q thought, Stars above, this guy is full of himself.

    The room, quiet once more, Instructor Highbridge asked, ¡°To begin, may I get a volunteer? Does anyone feel like they have a good grasp of the basics?¡±

    Cedric began to raise his hand, but Q held it in place telekinetically with a grip on his friend¡¯s sleeve. Giving his friend a minute shake of his head, he motioned for Cedric to wait. He wanted to see what was considered basic in Transmutation before putting their talents on display.

    A girl with mousy brown hair raised her hand, blushing as she smiled at their instructor. ¡°I believe that I know the basics fairly well.¡±

    With a wink, Instructor Highbridge pulled a stone from his pocket. Taking her hand in his own, he turned it over and placed the stone in her palm, his fingers sliding over hers to close them around it.

    ¡°Now, mage¡ª?¡± He asked, looking deeply into her eyes.

    ¡°Mage Bellevue, Instructor Highbridge,¡± the girl said breathily.

    ¡±Isaac, will do. Thank you, Mage Bellevue.¡±

    Leaning in close, Cedric mumbled, ¡°Is this making you uncomfortable? Because, it¡¯s making me very uncomfortable.¡±

    ¡°I think this man might be one of them.¡± Q whispered back. Referring to the group of gifted males that took the King¡¯s Edicts as permission to have sex with as many women as they could. Claiming they were doing their part for the kingdom by trying to get each woman pregnant in the attempt.

    It was a view held favorably only by a select few, and surprising to see from someone so closely related to the Archmage.

    Mage Bellevue cupped the stone between her closed palms and focused. A quiet chant could be heard coming from the mage as she channeled her Gift. A soft green light emitted from her hands and, a moment later, when she opened them, she let loose a brilliant smile and held out the yellow-brown crystal for all to see.

    Instructor Highbridge clapped his hands, returning her smile with one of his own. ¡°That was a perfect example of Transmutation. Taking an object and transforming it into something entirely different. We will explore the different states, solids, liquids, and gases, over the next several months. Together, I will help you understand the intricacies of each, and if you are willing to put in the effort of long nights and hours of practice, I may even be able to teach you something special¡­¡± He said, pausing for dramatic effect, looking into each of his young female students faces. Highbridge held out his forearm and pulled back his sleeve. They watched it shift before their eyes, growing spotted fur, before shifting back to his normal human skin.

    His demonstration of the combination of Physical and Transmutation earned a gasp from the watching ladies, and a snort from Cedric.

    ¡°Is there a problem?¡± asked Instructor Highbridge, staring daggers at the young man.

    Clearing his throat, Cedric answered, ¡°No instructor, my apologies, just something caught in my throat.¡±

    The man glared for a moment longer before returning his attention to the other students as they began asking questions.

    ¡°Narcissism,¡± Q murmured just loud enough for his friend to hear. ¡°You choked on narcissism.¡±

 B1C23 - Lets Get Physical

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can do it, Q.¡± Cedric spat. ¡°I really don¡¯t think I can make it through an entire year of that.¡± Utter disgust pinching together his friend¡¯s brow. Shaking off like a wet dog, likely in an attempt to rid himself of the aftereffects of the last hour. Leaving Transmutation, they headed towards the practice field where their next class was to be held.

    Not yet complete with his rant, he continued. ¡°The headmistress has to be aware one of her instructors is a potential pervert, doesn¡¯t she?¡±

    Stifling a laugh, Q looked at his friend with wide-eyes. ¡°Cedric¡ª¡± he hissed. A quick look around showed no one was close enough to have overheard without the use of a Gift. The lack of any reaction by those within sight, told him they¡¯d gotten lucky.

    Wincing, his friend agreed. ¡°Yeah, OK. That one may have been pushing it a bit. But you see my point. How many of those poor girls do you think will fall for his trap this year? What about last year, or next?¡±

    As scandalous as his words may have been, he made a fair point. For many of the students, this would be their first time away from, and outside the influence of their families. An Instructor taking advantage of that fact, could have serious repercussions.

    ¡°I do, and I agree with you. Surely, if it was an issue, it would have been addressed already.¡±

    Cedric stopped walking entirely. His eyebrows lost beneath his bangs as he stared at his friend in disbelief. The sudden wind whipping down the pathway between courtyards tugged at their robes and sent a shiver running up Q¡¯s spine.

    Son of the Archmage, King¡¯s Edicts providing a societal grey area¡­ yeah, Q thought, unknowingly clenching his hands into fists. That sounds like a recipe for injustice.

    Nodding when Cedric recognized Q¡¯s understanding, they continued on, walking past Reginald and Taylor in the process. The pair wrinkled their noses as if they smelled something rancid, the childish act more funny than it was offending.

    Cedric watched the duo go by and asked, ¡°You said they shared your first class this morning? Assholes?¡±

    ¡°Assholes,¡± Q agreed, ¡°They went for the jugular, socially speaking. I threatened to break Taylor¡¯s nose, just like Reginald¡¯s. Honestly, I almost wish they¡¯d doubt my willingness to introduce them to these hands,¡± Q said. Throwing a couple of shadow punches for emphasis and trying to work off the chill from a few moments prior.

    Laughing, Cedric demanded. ¡°Just make sure I¡¯m there if you do. How a sour apple like Taylor could be related to Ronan is beyond me. Those two becoming friends so quickly, is less of a surprise than it should be.¡±

    A cluster of white-robed students was gathered near the main doors to the training field. Cedric perked up when he noticed Celeste among the group, elbowing Q unnecessarily, indicating her with a nod.

    Choosing to ignore his friend¡¯s excitement. Q recalled that his grandfather once told him that Elemental and Physical gifts were the most commonly seen in Rivenna, and based on what Q was seeing today, he was right. A quick head count put this group at twenty-four students, even larger than his Elemental class.

    Unlike his previous two classes, when a black-robed mage arrived, they were not alone.

    This time, a pair of them would be running the Physical class. The instructors, both of middling height, and sporting brown hair. Though, in differing shades, One so dark that it was nearly black and the other accented with red like a bed of coals.

    The latter¡¯s hair wasn¡¯t the most interesting thing about her.

    No, that honor went to the wicked scar tracing from the corner of her mouth to her ear, in a ghoulish smile that marred the beauty across the bridge of her nose. In a world of healers that could do so, leaving little to no mark as evidence, it was a shocking thing to see.

    ¡°I am Instructor Foster and with me, is Instructor Marks. We will be teaching you how to effectively and safely use Physical magic. This Gift is often looked down upon as the least valuable of the Gifts due to it being the most common.¡± Her words hung in the air as she looked from face to face. ¡°It¡¯s not, and if I hear one of you call it the Farmer¡¯s Gift, I¡¯m going to let Instructor Marks here. Explain your folly. She takes it personally when any Gift gets disparaged, especially this one. It saved her life.¡±

    Clapping her hands together in a move that looked casual, but contained so much force that it sent out a shockwave of sound. ruffling the hair of those closest, she asked. ¡°If you can¡¯t tell, we at the Academy like volunteers. So, can anyone give me an example of how they¡¯ve used their Physical gift to do anything other than move quickly or pick up something heavy?¡±

    Her question was met with silence as the group looked amongst themselves.

    Q nudged his friend, tapping his ears. He wasn¡¯t sure what made him feel comfortable stepping up now. It just felt different from in his other classes.

    Cedric nodded and raised his hand high. Taking notice, everyone, including Celeste, turned to look at him.

    ¡°Yes, you. In what ways have you used your Gift other than the obvious?¡± Instructor Foster asked, pointing at Cedric, a touch of surprise in her voice. She traded a look with Instructor Marks, a pleased curl pulling up the other woman¡¯s unmarred lips, in a distorted mirror image.

    Augmenting his voice, Cedric answered, ¡°I have used it on my ears to improve my hearing.¡±

    Instructor Marks¡¯ irregular smile turned into a full-blown grin in a flash of teeth. Stepping forward, she said, ¡°And, in your vocal cords to amplify your voice.¡± Pausing, she gave Cedric a wink before addressing the class. ¡°Both of these are great examples of subtler ways we can use Physical magic. With those in mind¡ª.¡±

    Cedric basked in the attention, until, that is, Q leaned over and in a low voice said, ¡°You should tell them about the thing you did with the barmaid and your¡ª¡± His words turning to laughter while trapped in his friend¡¯s head lock. He continued to laugh through the attempted strangulation, but the two immediately knocked off their horseplay the instant they felt the instructor¡¯s stares burning into them.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Turning their attention back where it belonged, Cedric caught the faint smile on Celeste¡¯s lips, and struggled to suppress the grin threatening to break free.

    The remainder of their first class on Physical magic was spent covering the theory behind physical augmentation, and delving into the famous ways in which mages had used it over the years. From the most well known of increased strength, speed, and agility, to the heightened senses Cedric described, and even a few obscure augmentations, like increased lung capacity and decreased sensitivity to hot or cold climates.

    It was an interesting class, with competent instructors. Something Q was glad to see after Transmutation earlier in the day.

    Filing out with the other students, Cedric and Q made for the main hall and the evening meal. Upon entry, they saw Ronan, already seated, and staring red-faced down at his plate.

    Q¡¯s eyes locked on Taylor as he walked away from his brother with a satisfied smirk on his face. Skipping the line to grab food, the two hurried over. Sitting down, Q asked Ronan, ¡°What was that about?¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± the older boy mumbled, still looking at his food.

    Cedric slapped the table with his palm, causing the nearby plates to jump. ¡°None of that now, we¡¯re friends here. If your brother wants to be a little shit, you can share with the two of us.¡±

    Ronan looked up, his eyes flicking between the two, finally settling on Q. ¡°It wasn¡¯t me he was being a shit to. He wanted to make sure I knew who my new friend was, and to warn me that my continued contact with you would do nothing but bring shame to our family¡¯s name.¡±

    Q nodded slowly, giving the older boy an appraising look. ¡°All of which you already knew¡­?¡± he said, his voice trailing off at the end.

    Ronan, picking up on the unspoken question, waved it away. ¡°Of course I did. That¡¯s not what¡¯s bothering me.¡± Looking around the room, he shook his head and turned back to Q. ¡°No, I¡¯m more concerned about some of the other students and how they will react to the news. I¡¯m not the only one with an influential parent at the academy this year.¡±

    Not sure what to say to that, Q just shrugged. His stomach let him know with a rumble that it was not OK with skipping dinner. Rising to his feet, Cedric stood up a moment later and followed him to fetch a plate.

    On their return, Ronan pondered aloud, ¡°I do wonder how Taylor figured out who you are so quickly. I know it wasn¡¯t from me.¡±

    ¡°Easy,¡± Cedric mumbled around the half-a-roll he¡¯d managed to stuff into his mouth. Pausing only long enough to swallow it down with a drink of water, he said, ¡°Remember that guy we pointed out a few nights ago? The one from the tavern. Apparently, he and your brother are best friends now.¡±

    ¡°Really? Usually, Taylor has a hard time making friends.¡± Ronan asked, relaxing his weight on to an elbow and raising a single brow.

    With a theatrical sigh, Q tilted his chin up in mock disdain. ¡°Bringing people together through mutual hatred. I¡¯ve found my life¡¯s calling.¡± He turned to Cedric and asked, ¡°Speaking of which, how do you feel about a little petty revenge?¡±

    The question, spread a wolfish grin across his friend¡¯s face, in contrast to the frown it brought to Ronan¡¯s.

    *****

    Instructor Burns was waiting for them in the same classroom they¡¯d met in that morning. Q and Cedric found him seated on the lower dais in a cross-legged position with his hands resting on his knees, his eyes shut.

    The two hadn¡¯t been speaking when they¡¯d entered the room, but the idea to do so now, and interrupt whatever Burns was doing, seemed wrong. Trading glances, he and Cedric made their way down to the dais and took the same seated position as their instructor.

    They waited like that, without a sound, for several minutes. When Burns finally opened his eyes, he smiled at them both.

    ¡°Thank you for waiting. I appreciate your patience. It shows you¡¯ve learned discipline. That should help you with much of what I want to teach you. Have either of you ever heard of meditation?¡±

    Cedric spoke up, recognizing it as something he¡¯d seen his mother do from time to time.

    ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯ve never tried it.¡±

    Burns looked at him in surprise until he remembered who the boy¡¯s mother was. ¡°Ahh, I shouldn¡¯t be surprised that your mother knows the technique. Did she teach you how it works?¡±

    Shaking his head no, Cedric explained. ¡°No, she told me that it was supposed to help focus the mind and improve the use of Mental magic, but it was not something she personally saw much benefit from.¡±

    ¡°That is not an uncommon sentiment. For some, it helps significantly. For others, like your mother, it can be a frustrating act, similar to banging one¡¯s head on a wall. Did either of you feel anything odd when you first entered the room?¡±

    Thinking back, Q remembered the sensation that he needed to remain quiet while descending the stairs to the dais. He described the sensation to Burns and earned a smile in return. Cedric nodding along as Q put a description to his own feeling.

    ¡°That,¡± Burns said, ¡°Was me projecting my desire for peace mentally throughout the room. It is a subtle manipulation of mind magic that I have only managed to do when centered and while in meditation. Its combat effectiveness is nearly non-existent. Which, is why it is an application of magic that few, if any, choose to learn, but it is an example of the different ways we can influence the world around us with more than just telekinesis when it comes to Mental.¡±

    He paused to look them both over before continuing, ¡°Q, I asked you to be here tonight as the normal curriculum was not made with mages of your power in mind. There are so few that have more than three Gifts, that each is treated as a special case.¡± Turning to Cedric, he said. ¡°You though, Cedric. Achieved something that has only been suspected of being possible in your duel today. The manifestation of telekinetic force, what you did when you used it to change directions and to block Q¡¯s movement during your duel. Is something I would love to help you explore, if you are amenable to working with me.¡±

    Q did not take offense to Cedric being given more attention by their instructor. He knew his friend often struggled dealing with the reality that he did not have his mother¡¯s gift. What he did not realize, was that in his desire to prove himself, He created something uniquely his own.

    Techniques like this were what family legacies were built on. Trying to learn how an ability was developed had resulted in violence and generational feuds in the past. Even asking for the chance to study a spell would typically be considered an extreme breach of etiquette, and Burns was risking serious backlash if Cedric chose to take his request the wrong way.

    With a quick glance at Q, who just raised an eyebrow in return, Cedric said. ¡°I have only developed the technique recently, and would like to test its applications on my own before bringing in outside influence. I will consider your request and let you know later if my decision changes.¡±

    ¡°Perfectly acceptable.¡± Burns assured him with a bow of his head. ¡°You may choose to join in each of the evening¡¯s sessions with Q. I only ask that you do so consistently, or not at all.¡±

    Burns then began to explain the basics of meditation, how to position their bodies for extended periods of stillness. He described the correct way to breathe and had them count each inhale and exhale. His instructions became almost meditative in their own right, and Q was shaken out of the trance when the next bell rang, indicating the end of the session.

    The trio rose to their feet and Burns surveyed them with a smile, asking, ¡°How do you feel?¡±

    Cedric rolled his shoulders and complained, ¡°Stiff. Is every session going to be like that?¡±

    Q felt the opposite. His body felt pleasantly loose, and he felt a sense of calm he hadn¡¯t realized had been missing since he¡¯d left Country Wycliffe.

    Burns laughed, ¡°Only until you get the hang of it. Though, you may take after your mother, and meditation simply may not be for you, time will tell. Now, have a pleasant evening, and I will see the two of you tomorrow.¡±

    With that, he turned and made his way up the stairs towards the chamber¡¯s exit.

    ¡°It is no wonder mother had us lifting weights, I was dying of boredom.¡±

    With a grin, Q responded, ¡°I don¡¯t know. The silence was kind of nice. It¡¯s so rare in your presence.¡±

    Snorting, Cedric pushed Q over and out of his meditation position. Rising to his feet, he headed for the stairs. Q¡¯s chuckle bouncing off the stone walls and chasing him from the room.

 B1C24 - Testing Day

    The next several days passed in much the same fashion, the only notable difference being the attention Q and his friends received as the truth behind his parentage spread. Looks of interest and curiosity changed to contempt, and in some cases, anger.

    You¡¯d think my parents betrayed them personally, thought Q as he looked down the breakfast table, meeting several gazes in the process.

    ¡°His father got both him and his mother killed.¡± Q heard someone whisper at a level meant to carry.

    Another voice, ¡°I heard the king even offered to find her a new husband. A mage this time¡ªmaybe the king already knew the Edicts were coming and wanted to marry her himself.¡±

    Q squeezed his eyes shut and focused on taking long, deep breaths, as Instructor Burns had shown him for meditation. Doing his best to cool the burning in his gut. The shame fighting to bring up the meal he¡¯d just eaten.

    Turning to his friends, he gently set down his utensils, confessing, ¡°I think I want to take Burns up on his offer to test out of first-year.¡±

    Cedric arched a brow and gave him a long look. Finally, he just shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m in. I¡¯m going to miss flirting with Celeste in Physical, but I¡¯ll figure out another way to see her.¡± Earning an eye roll from Ronan, to which he couldn¡¯t fight a grin.

    Shifting his gaze between them, Ronan asked, ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. Why would you want to do that?¡±

    Q touched on his Elemental gift, and doing as his grandfather had shown him. Summoned a wind screen to surround them and give their conversation at least a little privacy. The use of his Gift didn¡¯t go unnoticed as the light breeze it created could be felt by those sitting within a few feet of them. Those that knew what a windscreen was, stared on in nosy curiosity.

    Looking down at his plate, he replied, ¡°This place¡­ isn¡¯t worth two years of my life, Ronan. I¡¯ve learned more from seeing what not to do from my fellow classmates than anything the instructors have shown us. Transmutation is a joke, with Highbridge spending the entire hour flirting with his students instead of teaching.¡± Shaking his head, he lifted his gaze and met both of his friend¡¯s eyes. ¡°I¡¯d rather get this over with and move on, start my service in the Core and get it over with. Who knows, maybe I¡¯ll even be able to help grandfather deal with the Drakovians.¡±

    He felt his friends watching him, but that was all Q had to say on the subject. Letting go of the windscreen, they left him to his thoughts as they dropped off their dishes and thanked the cleaning staff.

    Reaching their splitting point, Ronan stopped before doing so. ¡°If you really want to do this, then you should. And I¡¯m not just saying that because it means you¡¯ll likely wind-up in my class.¡± The last being said with a small grin. ¡°I know I haven¡¯t known you long, and I don¡¯t think this is what you¡¯re doing¡ªBut, don¡¯t make a decision like this just because you feel like everyone hates you. I¡¯ve¡­ been there and had less than pleasant thoughts at my lowest.¡± Ronan said, each word turning his small smile from one of amusement, to one of remembered pain.

    Reaching out, he placed a hand on Q¡¯s shoulder. ¡°This won¡¯t last long.¡± Forcing a grin, he continued, ¡°You just need to make it through to when the first hook-ups and break-ups happen. You will be old news by then.¡±

    With that, his friend beat a hasty retreat. He made it about fifteen feet when Q¡¯s words, carried by the wind, reached his ears.

    ¡°Thanks, Ronan.¡±

    *****

    Deciding to eat the frog, Q planned to approach Instructor Burns the minute they walked into class. The man was always there when they arrived, and Q wanted to have the conversation before Izzy and Helena showed up. Their group dynamics the past week had been¡ªstrained.

    They¡¯d never recovered that easy communication from their first morning together, and Q still didn¡¯t know why.

    It¡¯s driving me star-blasted mad, Q had thought on more than one occasion. If I¡¯d planned to stay in a group with them for much longer, I¡¯d call them out and get to the bottom of it.

    The two ladies had chosen to ignore Cedric¡¯s wave, inviting them to their table for the evening meal. The next morning in class, they¡¯d hardly spoken. Instead, directing all questions to Burns. When their instructor requested Q and Cedric assist with an exercise, it was a disaster of one-sided conversations that only managed to irritate everyone, Instructor Burns included.

    It¡¯d become so bad, he¡¯d flat out asked if there was a problem to which the ladies just said no. Whatever the issue, Q felt that it spawned from Izzy. During their time trying to help, Helena gave in, speaking to Q, and even giggling on occasion when working with Cedric. Earning herself a glare from the taller girl, who remained cold and entirely standoffish.

    Burns was alone, meditating when they entered the classroom. Thankfully, he didn¡¯t keep them waiting, his eyes opening by the time the pair reached his level.

    Taking a cross-legged seat in front of their instructor, they waited for him to speak.

    ¡°Good morning, Mages Vaelmara and Valtieri. You¡¯re here early.¡±

    Trading a glance, Cedric indicated for him to lead with a small gesture of his hand. The universal rule of, ¡°This was your idea, you ask,¡± going into effect.

    Looking the older man in the eye, Q requested. ¡°Instructor Burns, I do not mean this request offensively in any way, working with you has been the best part of our time here at the academy so far, but I¡ªno, we¡ªwould like to take you up on the offer to test out of our first years.¡±

    Burns¡¯ face remained neutral, and not showing a hint of surprise. Shifting his focus to Cedric, he asked, ¡°This is what both of you want?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Instructor Burns, it is.¡± Cedric said with a level gaze.

    Nodding, Burns looked at them both, asking. ¡°You realize what this would entail, don¡¯t you? The consequences of skipping your first year?¡±

    Exchanging a final glance, ¡°We do.¡± They said in unison.

    Instructor Burns peered at the ceiling in consideration. ¡°The headmistress is usually available around the mid-day meal. I can try to get us in to see her then. Unfortunately, today is testing day for first-years, and you will still need to complete at least the physical portion this morning.¡±

    It was then that the classroom doors opened and Izzy and Helena entered. They froze only a few steps into the room as if they could sense unseen tension permeating the space.

    Standing, Q and Cedric took their usual seats. Saying good morning to their fellow students, they received a small smile from Helena but only a slight nod from Izzy by way of greeting.

    One of these days I¡¯m going to figure out what we did to offend them. Q thought, staring a little too long as the young woman reached up to touch, first the corner of her mouth, and then her hair, before scowling at him.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Good morning, students.¡± Burns said, rising to his feet. ¡°You will be doing something a bit different today. Instead of your usual classes, you will be completing your first set of assessments.¡± Walking over to his satchel, their instructor returned with a stack of papers, one for each of them. ¡°We try to get this done the first week. To give each student a baseline for where they begin.¡±

    He went on to explain each of the tests and their grading criteria. The day would be separated into two parts. The physical portion taking place that morning, was broken into four different tests meant to demonstrate their strength, endurance, agility, and finally, a combination of all three.

    Q and Cedric traded glances, groaning. ¡°Please, do not tell me there is an obstacle course,¡± asked Cedric.

    Burns smiled, ¡°I see you are familiar with them. The fourth and final test for the physical portion is in fact, an obstacle course. It brings together all of the aspects tested in the earlier assessments.¡±

    As he began to explain their first test in more detail, Cedric whispered, ¡°Well, at least we know we¡¯ll do fine on that. There is no way their course is any harder than the ones your grandfather put us through.¡±

    Q nodded his agreement but turned his attention back to Instructor Burns.

    ¡°The test of strength will be simple. Once in the exam room, you will see weighted stones lined up in a row. One by one, you will each lift the stone into three positions: Off the ground, to your chest, and above your heads. You will not have to do this to every stone, but you must complete all three positions with at least one, for it to count as a starting point to grade. For example, if you get stone four overhead, but only manage to get five to your chest, your final score would be four-and-two.¡± Pausing for a moment, he asked, ¡°Does anyone have any questions?¡±

    When Q entered the testing chamber, he could see the last students from the first group exit the opposite door. The room itself was just as Burn¡¯s described.

    A row of stones, numbered from one to ten, with metal bars for hand holds imbedded in the sides of each stone. Q guessed that the lightest weighed close to that of a small child, and increased to stones likely weighing double his own weight.

    Indicating the ladies should go first, Burns moved to the side and waited to record their results.

    Izzy stepped forward as the first to make the attempt. She skipped the first two stones and approached the third. Bending over, she gripped the handles on each side and, with a grunt, lifted it a few inches off the ground. After a moment, she dropped it back to the floor and stepped back. She shook her head and moved to the second stone. This time, Izzy bent down with her knees into a squat and gripped the handles. With another grunt, She stood up, lifting it to her chest and pressing it over head. She held it for a moment before releasing the stone and stepping back. It dropped to the ground with a loud thud.

    Q was impressed. He didn¡¯t think many of the women he¡¯d met could have even lifted the third stone, let alone choosing to make it their first attempt.

    Izzy walked silently to where they waited. Burns gave her a small smile and said, ¡°That was fantastic, a good start to the year. Congratulations, Mage Thorne.¡± He turned to Helena and waved. ¡°If you would be so kind, Mage Wakefield.¡±

    She stepped forward, considering the first two stones. Choosing the heavier, she copied Izzy¡¯s technique and bent her knees. Gripping the stones as close to the ground as she could. Pushing with her legs, her face turned red, and her breath hissed out from between her teeth. Pausing when she hit her full standing height. She took a couple of deep breaths before bouncing her knees, once, and pressed it over head. Helena tried to hold it like Izzy had, but her arms started to give and she stepped clear, letting the stone fall.

    Burns gave her the same smile he had Izzy, but Cedric, unable to contain himself, offered her a loud whistle, earning a smile that she tried to hide.

    Giving the stones an appraising look, Cedric walked over to the fourth, which reached halfway to his knees. He squat low and lifted it to his chest without much difficulty. Holding it for a moment, he shook his head and dropped the stone to the floor. Shuffling over to the fifth, he moved into position. With a burst of energy and a grunt, Cedric shot up with the stone to his chest. Letting it bounce as Helena had and pressed it over his head. Stepping back, he let it drop to the dirt where it rebounded once with a hollow whump.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough for me today. I¡¯d need a healer if I tried for number six.¡±

    Trading places with his friend. Q felt the muscles in his legs tighten as he squat low. The metal handles, warm from where Cedric gripped them, were roughened by whomever made them, to improve the student¡¯s grip. Flexing his thighs, he pressed into the ground through his heels.

    The stone had a respectable weight, and Q could see why Cedric would have hesitated to try number six. He controlled the weight, lifting it to his chest and pressed out overhead. He held for two breaths before dropping it back to his chest, then his thighs, and finally, the floor.

    He wiped the dirt from his hands and turned, meeting Burns¡¯ flat stare.

    ¡°Are you not going to go for number six?¡±

    ¡°No Instructor, I am fine where I¡¯m at.¡° Having no reason to push for more.

    Watching him for a long moment, Burns just sighed and moved on.

    The requirements for the second test were simple, run as many laps around the training field as they could. A single circuit was roughly half a mile in distance. Walking outside, Q saw members of the first testing group still running.

    Burns followed their gazes, saying, ¡°It¡¯s fine. We tend to overlap on this test, don¡¯t worry about it. Go ahead and get started. Good luck.¡±

    Fifteen minutes later, he called, ¡°That¡¯s four laps, Q. Keep it up!¡± on his way past the instructor.

    He was breathing hard, but felt like he could sustain his current pace for a little longer. Q planned to stop once he saw Cedric quit running.

    Not much point, not if I¡¯m going to test out. He thought, waving to Izzy when he passed her panting silhouette. He didn¡¯t bother hiding the enjoyment he got out of her exhausted frustration.

    The exchange helped keep Q¡¯s mind off their upcoming meeting with Headmistress Moonscar.

    At the start of their run, Burns sent a note with a passing servant, along with a silver from Q for his assistance. He¡¯d come back with a return message from the woman, accepting their request, just before he¡¯d finished his third lap.

    The hate he was receiving from his fellow students¡­ wasn¡¯t pleasant. But what he¡¯d told Ronan at breakfast was the truth. He was disappointed by what the Academy had to offer.

    His grandfather had warned him that most mages were born knowing they were going to be mages. Even norm-born women knew they had a fifty-fifty shot at being Gifted. It was understandable that most wouldn¡¯t take up a martial study as he had. What did surprise him, was how so few of them had truly experimented with their Gifts after they¡¯d manifested.

    It seemed they would learn how to do a few basic workings with their magic. Mostly small things like conjuring an elemental flame, summoning water, levitating objects, or increasing their speed and strength, but stopped there. As if they learned only enough to show off and nothing more.

    Q was aware that the Mage Academy was meant to prepare mages for their service in the Mage Core. If they wanted to truly harness their Gifts, they needed to join and learn from the Mage¡¯s Council. To Q, it just felt like a disappointment.

    Running past Burns once more, he saw that Helena had stopped, and he suspected Izzy would soon as well. He also noticed the testing group behind theirs enter the training field. Q didn¡¯t recognize any of them, except for the mousy-haired mage from Transmutation. The narrowed eyes and sour expressions making it clear they knew who he was.

    Eat my trousers, you snobby pricks.

    Q ran one more lap before he saw Cedric was finished. He slowed down, ready to do the same. Waiting for him, his friend held out a fist for him to bump.

    The remaining test went as smoothly as the first. The third exam consisting of a maze built with tight turns and sudden stops, that required quick changes in direction. All of it meant to test the student¡¯s agility.

    Burns explained that the course was built new for each testing, with the older students completing it first. Their scores were then used to create the grading criteria for the first-years, judging them accordingly.

    The pair completed it easily, moving on to the final test, the obstacle course.

    Staring at the monstrosity before him, Q felt his stomach shift uncomfortably. Whomever designed the thing, had done a terrible job. With some portions being far too easy and others being almost dangerous in their difficulty.

    Q watched as Helena made her way across the rotating pillars one leap at a time. Wincing as she bashed her shin, jumping a gap that had been made a little too large. The mishap nearly making her fall into the water below.

    Turning to Burns, Q couldn¡¯t help but ask, ¡°You weren¡¯t the one to design this, were you, Instructor Burns?¡±

    Without looking away from his charge, the man replied, ¡°No, it was not me. Why?¡±

    ¡°To be blunt, because someone could be seriously injured by this¡ªthing. The mage that devised this course has no idea what they are doing.¡±

    As soon as Helena cleared the finish line, Burns blinked several times before rubbing his forehead. ¡°I know. We usually try not to let this instructor do the course design, considering he has no Elemental magic, nor does he understand that not everyone has Physical magic to rely on. The best we could do was have a healer on hand.¡± The last was said, indicating a mage in grey robes that Q had not noticed sitting on the room''s raised dais.

    In the end, both Lizzy and Helena made it through with only bruises and a few scratches. Q and Cedric took their turns, clearing it without issue due to their experience. It helped that both were highly motivated to get it over with, and learn what the afternoon had in store for them.

 B1C25 - A Request & A Second Chance

    Mages Academy

    Headmistress¡¯ Office

    Cassandra Moonscar found herself staring across her desk at Instructor Burns for the second time in as many days. The difference now, being that he¡¯d brought the subject of their conversation with him.

    Taking her first opportunity to examine the two young men standing on each side of Burns. She had to admit they were an appealing pair.

    Above average height, though, Quinten appears to be a bit bulkier. Both fill out their white mage robes nicely. I expect that you¡¯d have all the silly young ladies following you around like lost puppies. If it weren¡¯t for your father. She thought, her gaze settling on Q.

    ¡°You requested this meeting. What is it you felt was important enough to keep us all from our mid-day meals?¡±

    Quinten opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when Burns cleared his throat.

    Brave enough to speak, but smart or disciplined enough to listen, Cassandra mused.

    At her nod, Instructor Burns began. ¡°Headmistress, Mages Vaelmara and Valtieri would like to test out of their first-years at the academy.¡±

    Cassandra had to fight to keep the surprise from her face. She¡¯d heard about the difficulties young Quinten had been facing from his fellow students. It was the reason she¡¯d thought he¡¯d requested the meeting.

    I thought he¡¯d ask for my assistance¡­ but this¡ªyes. This could be for the best. She thought with growing excitement. The sooner he graduates, the sooner he¡¯s someone else¡¯s problem.

    Shifting her gaze to her instructor, she asked. ¡±Do you believe they are already prepared for second-year? Hardly a week of class has passed.¡±

    Nodding, Burns met her eyes levelly. ¡°Yes, headmistress, I do.¡±

    The man had earned her respect over the years he¡¯d been an instructor. Not just because his group of students consistently performed well during testing. It was the way in which he played the game that made her trust his judgment.

    ¡°You, I understand, Mage Ashford.¡± The use of his name, intentional. Focusing on the other young man, she asked. ¡°But why would you want to leave the academy early¡­? Are you not being challenged? Or has your mother already taught you everything you need to know about being a mage in the Core, Mage Vaelmara?¡± Her eyes narrowing in anticipation.

    The boy frowned slightly, his eyes darting toward Q briefly before settling on her once more.

    Visibly swallowing, he replied. ¡°I am not benefitting from my current classes, headmistress. I would like to progress and be challenged.¡±

    Amusement had the corner of Cassandra¡¯s lips curl up into a small smirk.

    ¡°To be challenged, he says. Your Instructor in Transmutation has expressed concerns that his class is already too challenging for you¡ª¡±

    Whatever she was going to say, forgotten in the snort that burst out of Q in surprise. The room went quiet as everyone stared at him, scarlet faced in embarrassment.

    ¡°I¡ªmy apologies.¡± The boy said as he stared unblinking at the wall behind Clarissa.

    ¡°As I was saying¡­¡± Trailing off when Cedric began to shift. Growing nearly a foot in height, his ears elongated and large canines pushed out from between his lips. Black hair began to sprout across his exposed skin before rippling in reverse as he shifted back to his normal form, and the light tan he had since walking in.

    That incompet¡ªstars above. If it wasn¡¯t for the Archmage. Cassandra raved internally, still managing to keep her composure in the face of this revelation.

    ¡°I see.¡± She said. The air growing tense when she failed to say more, like a musician tightening the string of a lute.

    Finally, she asked, ¡°Did they pass the physical portion of the exams this morning?¡±

    ¡°They did. They came in at the top for their year, and would have beaten roughly seventy-five percent of the second-year¡¯s scores.¡±

    His answer caught Quinten by surprise. She could tell by the way his eyes flicked to the older man, widening slightly. Overconfident, she thought. He expected to be the best.

    Making her decision, Cassandra said, ¡°Instead of the standard testing this afternoon, take them to the Proving Grounds. If they can pass the end-of-year requirements, I will sign off on you advancing to the second year class.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for your time, headmistress.¡± Burns said before turning and indicating for his two students to precede him out.

    Cassandra remained at her desk, watching as they left her office.

    I may have to let a few ladies know about those two. They could be trouble, but they¡¯ll undoubtably make a splash. Lost in thought as she stared at the heavy wooden door closing behind them.

    *****

    Q and Cedric let out twin sighs of relief as they left the headmistress¡¯s office. The meeting had been intense. Leaving them a little slouched in the shoulders, even if the rest of them buzzed with energy.

    ¡°Are either of you hungry, or would you rather get the testing started now?¡± Burns asked.

    Q¡¯s stomach rumbled, but he was too excited to sit through lunch.

    Making their way toward a section of campus neither of the boys had been to before, Cedric asked, ¡°We saw the requirement list, but do we just go down them one by one, with you checking them off, or¡­?¡±

    ¡°It is a practical test, set by the Crown, and dependent on the individual¡¯s Gifts. They want to know the Mage Core can send out any of their members, and they¡¯ll be able to perform these tasks when needed.¡± He explained, leading them into a large stone building.

    Unlike most on campus, this one had large windows of colored crystal lighting the entryway. The colors highlighting the polished stone floors and the expensive furniture dotted throughout.

    Peering around at the opulence, Q asked, ¡°What is this place?¡±

    Burns let out a small sigh. ¡°This building is commonly referred to as the Proving Grounds. All of this,¡± he said, indicating the entryway, ¡°Is for show. It is common for high-ranking nobles to attend their children¡¯s testing or to scout out potential marriage prospects.¡±

    Q raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± He said with a small shudder. ¡°They host the Mid-year Ball and hold the graduation ceremony here as well.¡±

    The news about the Ball was interesting. But this was the first time Burns had mentioned anything close enough to the topic, that it felt appropriate for Q to ask.

    ¡°Uh¡­ how did¡ªhow do you find being married?¡±

    Pausing beside a gilded bench, Burns considered him and his question. He placed a hand on the shining surface, gripping it hard enough to turn his knuckles white. His gaze darting to Cedric where a similar curiosity burned in his eyes.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ different. But, as are many things, complicated.¡± The older man stared at the colorful lights streaming through the window as they played across the floor. ¡°I was selected by a high-ranking noble family. They wanted me to wed their daughter after they saw my final exam. It didn¡¯t matter to them that I already had someone in mind. Someone I grew close to here at the academy.¡°

    The lines around Burns¡¯ mouth tightened, and Q watched as he took a calming breath. ¡°They offered much in consideration, but I still declined their proposition. Not long after that, our family¡¯s trade agreements with nearby towns started drying up. One merchant said he was going out of business, only for us to later learn he¡¯d just changed his route. Another said they could no longer supply us with the materials we needed to make our main export. It put us into trouble financially. My father¡ªcame to me asking me to reconsider.¡±

    Lips pressed together in a thin line, he looked up from the floor and shrugged. ¡°I did what was necessary to support my family. It was like I¡¯d unblocked a dam. The moment I agreed to the marriage, all of our lost contacts suddenly reappeared.¡±

    He peered between the two young men, listening with rapt attention. ¡°As you can imagine, our marriage was not one filled with love. I did my duty, but was due for my service to the Mage Core. During my absence, there were rumors my wife had taken a lover. She was already starting to show with child when I returned.¡±

    Q winced at the man¡¯s tale. Both boys sympathizing with the shame and embarrassment that betrayal must have wrought.

    ¡°She chose to return to her family¡¯s estates in shame, and likely to birth the babe. I¡¯d already seen what they were willing to do to force the marriage. Destitution would be the least of my family¡¯s worries if I¡¯d chosen to make public their daughter¡¯s transgressions. I couldn¡¯t petition the King to have the marriage dissolved¡ªI was stuck. Until¡­¡±

    In that pocket of silence, a small smile was born. ¡°Until¡­ the King¡¯s Edicts. It was like a stay of execution removing the noose from my neck. I was free to marry once more, and if I was quick enough¡ªto choose my own bride this time.¡± Leaning against the pew, he smiled up a the ceiling as he recalled those frantic few weeks. ¡°Which, is exactly what I did. I set out the next morning to where I knew my lost love to be stationed with the Core. I asked her to marry me within moments of finding her.¡± Chuckling, he continued, ¡°Nearly fell off my horse and broke my neck doing it. That was 3 years ago, and we could not be happier.¡±

    Q and Cedric grinned along with him, Cedric¡¯s expression scrunching up a moment later,

    ¡°Uh¡­ Not to ruin your story. But, don¡¯t you have to marry three mages under the Edicts¡­?¡±

    Q wasn¡¯t sure how he¡¯d expected the man to react to Cedric¡¯s question, but a grin wasn¡¯t it. ¡°I do, within the next year, actually. I¡¯m not concerned. Lara has already picked out a friend of hers that she¡¯s willing to bring into our family. We live in odd times, gentlemen. Sometimes, all we can do is embrace them.¡±

    *****

    The large chamber Burns led them in to, was very similar to Q¡¯s own magic chamber back in Wycliffe, just on a grander scale. This must have inspired Grandmother when she built mine.

    The crystal in the very center of the room¡¯s ceiling was huge, nearly twice the size of a man, and it reflected enough light that left not a shadow visible from where they stood on the ground floor. Outside of the main area were raised areas for spectator seating. Q turned in a circle and whistled. They could fit nearly three hundred people in the room without feeling cramped.

    Burns clapped his hands once and said. ¡°The practical assessment covers each of your gifts. They will all be the same, except for the addition of your Elemental magic, Q. You will be given a task that you must complete to the best of your ability while using only the designated gift¡­¡±

    *****

    ¡°Remember, these tests are not about your fighting ability. These are meant to simulate real-life scenarios that you will commonly see while serving in the Mage Core.¡± Burns approached a podium where Q could see different colored crystals imbedded in the stone. Placing a hand on each side of the podium, they began to glow. A moment later, the room began to shake. Stone shifted as a miniature castle rose out of the floor.

    Q and Cedric stared openmouthed, watching in disbelief as castle walls followed by a water filled mote were formed. Stone figures appeared on the parapet circling the castle, shields growing out of their arms, forming an even more intimidating defensive structure.

    The pair turned to their instructor, incredulous. Grinning from ear to ear, he said. ¡°I never get tired of seeing student¡¯s reactions to that.¡±

    Q readied himself as Burns announced the objective of his first trial. To either breach the front gate, the walls, or to circumvent them entirely. Penetrating the defenses using only his Physical gift.

    ¡°Begin!¡±

    Q dashed toward the gates. Pumping his magic through his legs. He felt the energy boosting his speed and endurance as he focused on the muscles and tendons propelling him forward. He was ready when the golems began to throw balls of earth. Dodging them as they flew or shattering them with a strengthened fist. Closing the distance, the ranged attacks grew more frequent, more accurate, and more powerful. Q had to resist tapping into his other gifts to aid in the challenge.

    Just as he was getting close enough that the walls would hide him from view. The defenders changed tactics, launching several projectiles at once. Q knew immediately that at least one would hit. Dropping the boost being sent to his legs, he redirected it into his bones and skin, strengthening them to withstand the hits. He crossed his arms in front of his face, and ducked his head, bracing for impact. The first strike hit his elbow, numbing the limb. The second clipped his knee. Forcing out a grunt of pain.

    Shit, they are not playing around. That would have broken my arm if I wasn¡¯t enhancing it.

    He dove forward, rolling out of their area of attack. He took a moment to catch his breath. Crouching, he pushed power into his lower body. Leaping nearly a dozen feet, he drove his strengthened fingers into the stone, doing the same with his toes. Destroying the soft padding making up their white uniform shoes, he began to climb.

    When he reached the parapet, he wasn¡¯t surprised by what he saw.

    Peeking between two crenelations, he locked eyes, or what would have been eyes, with the earth golem standing before him. Realizing he had no other options. Q pulled his toes free and braced his heels flat against the stone. Shoving off with his legs and freeing his hands in the process. He swung up and over, clearing the wall.

    That was where his good luck ended, his momentum taking Q¡¯s crotch right into the golem¡¯s face. Pain shot through him, making him collapse, clutching himself in reflex. Thankfully, he was hidden from view by the low wall. It took him several minutes, but Q eventually rolled off the side, landing in a crouch within the castle walls.

    I am never telling Cedric about this. He thought as he limped toward the gates.

    His friend¡¯s strategy was very different from Q¡¯s. Instead of scaling the wall, he went with a straightforward gatecrash. Catching one of the thrown projectiles, Cedric used it as a shield to reach the wall, proceeding to bash the gate¡¯s wooden exterior until it splintered. He then used the cracks in the wood to create a hole where he could reach in and lift the locking bar. It took him longer and against anyone living, would never have worked, but it got the job done.

    For the test of their Mental gifts, the roles were reversed. The two young men having to defend a section of the wall from attacking golems, using only their telekinesis. Without the attackers shooting at them, It was a surprisingly easy task. The main concern being running out of energy too quickly. With the simulated defenders still throwing their projectiles, Q was able to beat back any golems that reached the walls, crushing them on the stones below. It reinforced why so few cities in the Kingdom of Rivenna had been attacked in their history.

    Cedric followed Q¡¯s example, but chose to grab a few of the earthen balls the defenders launched, and used them to target the golems at range.

    Their transmutation test required a change of scenery, with Burns once more using the pedestal. The stone castle melted back into the floor, a bridge made of earth taking its place. The required task was for each of the students to transmute the bridge so that it was strong enough to support a loaded wagon traveling across.

    Having seen what was required to supply troops in his time on the kingdom¡¯s border, Q recognized the practicality of the task, and happily started reinforcing the bridge. Starting at the base, he transmuted the support columns to stone, and combined the smaller stones interspersed throughout the dirt, forming the bridge to interlocking stone blocks. The deck, or bottom layer of the bridge that the wagon would cross, Q turned into a single piece of granite. He then covered it in a layer of small, loose stones, and finally, created a final layer of granite across the top.

    The entire process took Q half an hour, and when he stepped back, he looked at his work with satisfaction.

    Burns, on the other hand, stood dumbfounded. At most, he expected the stone pillars and a single layer of hardened earth across the top. It would have earned the student a passing grade. This¡ªthis was something all together different. The instructor approached the bridge and looked it over thoroughly. Noticing the finer details of the interlocking stones and the gravel interwoven between granite layers.

    Turning back to Q, he couldn¡¯t resist asking, ¡±By the stars, where did you learn bridge construction?¡±

    Scratching the back of his neck, he shrugged. ¡°This is how my grandfather taught me to build them. We saw similar ones all throughout the Western Marches.¡±

    Burns just shook his head. ¡°Let me reset the bridge and we will see what you can do, Cedric.¡±

    Cedric completed the task without issue. Putting in significantly less effort after seeing Burns¡¯ reaction to Q¡¯s work.

    With no great fanfare, Burns ran Q through the Elemental portion of the test. Having him conjure a shelter made of earth, draw water without a readily available source, and cast a flame to simulate an attack. Finally, he harnessed the wind, simulating filling a sail, and maintaining it for fifteen minutes.

    Grinning as he released the current of air, Q and Cedric traded a fist bump. As anti-climactic as the end of the test had been. They¡¯d done it, they were now second-years.

 B1C26 - Second Year, Second Dinner

    Ronan¡¯s face when they told him how they¡¯d spent their afternoon was quite amusing. Causing him to drop his spoon into his bowl of soup, had all three laughing while Ronan used a table napkin to clean up the mess.

    ¡°I honestly wasn¡¯t sure they would let you test out. As far as I know, they haven¡¯t allowed anyone to do so in decades.¡±

    Shrugging, Quinten took a bite of venison, enjoying the way it melted on his tongue.

    ¡°The headmistress didn¡¯t seem too opposed to the idea, and Instructor Burns fought for us to get the chance.¡±

    ¡°Maybe she just likes us?¡± Cedric asked before taking a bite of mashed potatoes.

    Brow furrowing, Quinten said, ¡°I don¡¯t know. I got this weird feeling that she doesn¡¯t really want me here¡­?¡±

    ¡°No surprise there,¡± said Cedric, his words having to fight their way out from between stuffed cheeks. ¡°Maybe she just likes me and is letting you come along.¡±

    Chuckling, Ronan said, ¡°Rude. But, now you can graduate with me. Stars only know. Maybe we really will get sent off to fight with your grandfather.¡±

    ¡°I would rather go to war than to the royal court.¡± Quinten said, sawing forcefully through the meat on his plate. The knife screeching as it skid across the smooth surface.

    Ronan met Cedric¡¯s eyes with lifted brows. Shrugging, the younger man could only offer a small, sad smile in reply.

    Burns grabbed the pair after dinner. Reviewing the changes to their schedules going forward. He was currently taking them to meet someone at Quinten¡¯s request.

    ¡°You want to do weapons training with my men?¡± Captain Reece asked as he gave the two a careful inspection.

    ¡°Yes, Captain, we do.¡± Quinten answered, looking the man in the eye. Something passed between them. The understanding that the other had stood toe-to-toe with an enemy and come out the other side, changed.

    Nodding, Reece said, ¡°Very well, Mage Valtieri. The Academy guards train just after first bell, or an hour before last, in one of the training fields. You are welcome to join any time you like. I will let my people know to expect you.¡±

    Smiling, Quinten reached out to trade grips with the man. ¡°We both appreciate it, Captain. I can already feel myself getting rusty.¡±

    Giving a small smile of his own, Reece said, ¡°Well we can¡¯t have that now can we, my lor¡ªer Mage Valtieri.¡± He finished with a cough to cover his mistake.

    ¡°We¡¯ll let you get back to your duties, Captain. Thank you for your time. I hope to face off with you in training soon.¡±

    *****

    The next morning, Cedric and Quinten walked into their newly assigned class, and were pleasantly surprised to see Ronan seated by himself. Sitting down beside him, they startled him out of his focused scribbling.

    With a jerk, he looked up while simultaneously covering up what he¡¯d been working on. Realizing who it was, he broke out into a grin. ¡°They placed you both in this class? Who¡¯s poor decision was that?¡±

    Quinten smirked, trying to ignore the stares and murmurs from the older and unfamiliar students around them. ¡°Don¡¯t pretend you didn¡¯t miss us¡ª¡±

    An instructor, whom Quinten had seen but did not know, pushed open the door and swept into the room. Her expression stern, and her steps purposeful. She walked down the stairs and to the center of the dais, her eyes scanning the room before settling, and narrowing, on the two newcomers.

    ¡°Today is a practical lesson on magical warfare. You,¡± she said, pointing directly at Quinten, ¡°tell me, we are at war on the western plains. What would be the most impactful type of magic we could use on the frontier?¡±

    Quinten frowned. That¡¯s a fairly complex question with a lot of contextual answers. I¡¯m just supposed to know which one she¡¯s looking for?

    ¡°Is the question to difficult to answer? Maybe you aren¡¯t ready to skip a whole year of training then, are you?¡± The instructor asked in a clipped tone laced with superiority.

    Ah, he thought, she¡¯s going to have a rebuttal ready for anything I might say.

    Starting slowly, as if he were skirting a literal trap field, Quinten said. ¡°Not too difficult, Instructor. But it is a complicated question, and I would have to say it depends on the context of the situation. If an imminent force is fast approaching and the composition of the mages present is appropriate, the answer would be Elemental magic to build defenses. If Mental magic is the main resource available, a large screen or illusion could be created to hide our forces until they were either in position to attack or retreat.¡±

    The instructor¡¯s condescending smirk slid the longer he spoke. Her face turning red, and her thin fingers wrapped around the top of the lectern like a bird¡¯s talons on a branch. Through gritted teeth, she said, ¡°I did not ask for Hypotheticals. I asked for a single answer. Now, what would be the most impactful magic on the frontier?¡±

    Quinten took a steadying breath before answering in a far calmer voice than her waspish tone.

    ¡°Burn it.¡±

    ¡°Burn it?¡± She repeated in confusion.

    ¡°Burn it.¡± Quinten stated once more, ¡°Burn the plains, and the Drakovians with it.¡±

    The two stared at each other for a long moment in a silent battle of wills. The murmuring of students lost in the background. She broke eye contact first, shifting her gaze and attention away from him.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that rather harsh?¡±

    ¡°He just wants to burn their homes? Wouldn¡¯t that just make them retaliate¡­?¡±

    The class moved on, with the instructor, giving his side of the room a wide berth. Though, Quinten had to begrudgingly admit the woman had a solid grasp of Drakovian tactics and the advantages they held on the open plains.

    The bell signaling the end of the period was a relief. Rising to his feet, a heavy hand clapped on to his shoulder, taking a firm grip.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Quinten turned to see a young man, a little taller than himself, invading his personal space. ¡°Well done, little pyro. Instructor Ross isn¡¯t an easy one to beat in an argument.¡± A twisted smirk appeared on his otherwise handsome face. ¡°A little advice. You may want to keep that silver-tongue of yours in check. No one likes a know-it-all.¡±

    Grinning, he continued in a much softer voice, one only the two of them should have been able to hear. ¡°You have enough problems already, don¡¯t you traitor¡¯s son?¡±

    ¡°Hey Ronan, who¡¯s this prick?¡± Cedric asked unnecessarily loud. Most of the students had already left by that point, oblivious to the drama going on. Cedric¡¯s question pulled the attention of everyone remaining in the room.

    Shifting his gaze to Cedric, the young man scoffed. ¡°Prick indeed. You¡¯re not even worth my time, boy. Come find me once you¡¯ve proven yourself, and you¡¯ve dropped a pair.¡± The last was said with a pointed look for emphasis.

    Realizing the insinuation, Cedric grinned, ¡°Concerned, are we? You could check for yourself if you must, but I¡¯ll warn you. I¡¯d hate to give you some kind of complex.¡±

    A look of revulsion crossed the older boy¡¯s face. Peering past them to where Ronan sat. His face turned red with accusation. ¡°You are here to learn, not indulge in perverted tendencies. You would do well to remember that.¡± He said before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room, pushing past the nosy on-lookers.

    Quinten watched him go, feeling a mix of anger and confusion. Meeting Ronan¡¯s eyes, he asked, ¡°Who was that?¡± His tone carrying not an ounce of humor.

    ¡°A prick, I already told you,¡± Cedric interjected, but a glare from Quinten shut him up.

    ¡°That would be the future Duke of Wyndham. Oliver, the eldest son of Alistair Wyndham,¡± answered Ronan.

    Quinten¡¯s world froze. Cedric recognized it as well, his eyes growing wide as he looked between his friends.

    ¡°Of course it is.¡±

    *****

    The remainder of the day went better than their class with Instructor Ross. Quinten was uncertain why she had taken such a dislike to Cedric and himself, but the other instructors he met seemed only curious about the two students who¡¯d tested into their classes.

    Quinten was happy to see that the level of ability being shown by the second-years was much improved. While still not what he¡¯d expected from the Academy, it was closer.

    He continued to not show off his skills, nor take any creative license when accomplishing the tasks given by their instructors. Quinten was more interested in seeing how the older students went about completing each assignment. He ended up learning more on that first day than he had the entire first week with the first-years. It left him feeling a little better about his remaining time at the academy.

    That evening, Quinten sat cross-legged in his room. He¡¯d continued to practice the meditation exercises Instructor Burns introduced the previous week. Finding that it helped to settle his mind after a busy day, and at times even connect with his gift on a deeper level. It was only for the briefest of moments, but when it happened, he felt the buzzing energy all throughout his body. He believed that with continued use, it could become a feeling he was able to reach at will.

    His trance was broken when a knock sounded at his door. Rising to his feet, Quinten stretched out his back and shoulders before pulling it open to find Izzy standing on the other side.

    ¡°May I come in?¡± She asked, her gaze and tone neutral.

    Quinten stepped aside, nearly tripping as his mind raced, trying to come up with a reason for her being there.

    Standing in the middle of his room, he saw her looking around, taking it in. He was glad he always kept his room fairly clean, and other than his outer robe thrown across the bed. Everything was in its place.

    Tapping his Physical gift, he heard Izzy mumble. ¡°¡ªthought a true noble would have better rooms than ours¡­¡±

    Stuck on the wrong side to sit on anything, he awkwardly leaned back against the door. Crossing his arms over his chest, he chose to put his mind at ease, asking, ¡°Good evening, Izzy. To what do I owe the pleasure?¡±

    Without turning to face him, she said. ¡°Burns told us you and Cedric will no longer be in our group.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s right¡­? ¡°

    ¡°So, that¡¯s it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what?¡± He asked, blinking rapidly before latching on to a thought, his brow furrowing. ¡°Hold on, I thought you would be happy we¡¯re gone. I received the distinct impression you did not like us.¡±

    Shaking her head with a light scoff, she finally turned toward him. ¡°You made us feel less then. How am I supposed to compete? Cedric is bad enough, but you¡­ you are a monster in mage robes.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡ªsorry?¡± Quinten grimaced, taken aback by her confession.

    Shaking her head once more, she stared at the grey robe on his bed. ¡°At least now, we won¡¯t be compared to you two. Maybe I¡¯ll even have a chance.¡±

    Wiping away a tear, Quinten scrambled out of the way as she threw open the door, nearly running into Ronan on her way out. The two young men watched her walk quickly down the hall in silence.

    ¡°So¡­?¡± Ronan asked.

    ¡°I have no idea.¡± Quinten admitted, at a total loss for what had just happened.

    ¡°Okay¡­ Do you know where Cedric is? I knocked on his door, but he didn¡¯t answer.¡±

    ¡°Yea,¡± Quinten said, his eyes still out of focus while he replayed the last few minutes in his head. ¡°Pretty sure he¡¯s going to make himself into a snack.¡±

    *****

    Cedric had never been in the women¡¯s dorm, but now that he¡¯d advanced to second year. He knew it wasn¡¯t likely that he¡¯d be seeing Celeste in any future classes.

    Q and Ronan had been very vocal that trying to woo Lady Celeste Sutherland would not turn out well. A lowly Baron pursuing a Duke¡¯s daughter. But there was something about her that kept drawing his thoughts back to her, and he knew that if he never made the attempt, he would regret it.

    Approaching the tall stone building, Cedric could appreciate the colorful stones and crystals used to adorn the female dorm. It was far more appealing than the drab stone of his own, and what, he suspected, this one originally matched.

    Two young first-years exited, and he waved them to a stop, asking, ¡°Excuse me, Do either of you know where I could find Mage Sutherland?¡±

    They traded glances and held a whispered conversation. After a quick back and forth, one of them finally answered, ¡°She¡¯s on the first floor, third door on the right.¡± Thanking them, he moved past as they broke out in a hushed but furious discussion. They continued watching him until he passed through the door.

    Putting them out of his mind, Cedric prepared himself mentally to enter the lion¡¯s den.

    Following their directions, he turned right and, after side stepping another white-robed girl who eyed him like a piece of meat, he made it to the prescribed door. Knocking, he stepped back until he nearly leaned on the wall across. Movement could be heard on the other side and making him unintentionally hold his breath, his palms starting to sweat.

    The door opened, and Cedric was met with storm cloud grey eyes, framed by eyebrows a shade darker than the golden waves that fell past her shoulders. Her cupid¡¯s bow lips lifted just a little at the corners when she recognized who stood before her.

    ¡°Mage Vaelmara, what brings you to my door at this time of night? Nothing nefarious, I hope. There are witnesses, you know.¡± Her words carried down the hallway and a moment later Cedric saw at least two doors crack open to listen.

    ¡°Mage Sutherland, or can I call your Celeste?¡± Cedric asked, keeping his tone as relaxed as he could.

    She raised an eyebrow. ¡°You know my name¡ªI guess I¡¯m not the only one looking into prospects this early in the year. Your mother is quite well known for her abilities.¡±

    Gritting his teeth, Cedric let the comment slide off him, focusing on what was important. ¡°For very different reasons, I¡¯m sure. I¡¯m not here to find a wife. Well, not really. I¡¯m here to learn, which is why I¡¯m at your door. I won¡¯t be seeing you in Physical any longer.¡±

    She leaned against the doorframe, looking up at him with interest. ¡°You won¡¯t, why not?¡± Fluttering her lashes, she asked. ¡±I may or may not have noticed you weren¡¯t in today¡¯s class.¡±

    Shaking his head, Cedric had to stop himself from puffing up his chest in pride. ¡°No, we tested out of our first year. The Headmistress is allowing us to advance to second.¡±

    His news genuinely caught her off guard. The cool composure she¡¯d been playfully hiding behind cracked just a little as her eyes grew wide. ¡°I was not even aware you could test out of a year at the Academy. Why though? Doesn¡¯t that mean you have to join the Core a year early?¡±

    Nodding, Cedric admitted, ¡°Yes, but that also means I¡¯ll be finished a year sooner.¡±

    Watching him with a twinkle in her eye, she asked, ¡°You just moved up on my list, but you should know the competition is quite stiff. If he wasn¡¯t a traitor¡¯s son, your friend likely would have been on it too.¡±

    Cedric winced internally, but met her gaze levelly. ¡°I¡¯d appreciate it if you did not call him that.¡±

    Her eyebrow raised, but she gave him a slight nod. ¡°Loyalty to your friends. That¡¯s not something I expected to see at the Academy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I could have expected anyone like you at the Academy.¡± Cedric¡¯s words causing a twitch of one corner of her mouth.

 B1C27 - Politics and Manners

    The Capital City of Gremelda

    Mage''s Council

    Ed stared at the stack of letters sprawled across his desk like a conquering army. More like a plague of locusts, he thought wryly.

    Sighing, he picked up the next and sliced it open with the thin letter opener. One of the few things he hadn¡¯t turned to ash in his purge of the useless junk kept by the room¡¯s previous occupant.

    ¡°Another one,¡± Ed muttered to himself. Tossing it into the ever-growing pile of inquiries asking to discuss Quinten¡¯s marriage prospects. Resisting the urge to set fire to the desk itself, he ran his hands down his face.

    ¡°You know it¡¯s only going to get worse, don¡¯t you?¡± A voice said, from what Ed had thought was the closed door to his office.

    Jerking in his seat, Ed conjured a ball of flame on instinct, but froze when he realized who it was standing in his doorway.

    ¡°Archmage Highbridge, you surprised me.¡± He said, letting the flames die out. Rising to his feet, he bowed his head.

    With an unamused expression, she said, ¡°Surprised by me coming to see you so soon, maybe. But I bet you aren¡¯t surprised that I would want to speak with you, or am I wrong?¡±

    Ed stared at the woman, and tried to puzzle out her motive for coming to him, instead of forcing the reverse. They had never had a close relationship before he stepped down from the Council and had no reason to speak until rejoining it the previous year. Even his theory surrounding the Mage Plague, as it had become known, was funneled through the Mage Council and not direct communication between the two of them.

    The Archmage was an enigma. Though a few years older than Ed''s sixty-two years, she appeared to be in her mid-thirties. With long black hair that she had coiled into an elaborate style, she was every bit the stunning woman she¡¯d been the day she became Archmage. Something that still unsettled Ed. As far as he knew, her life before her nomination was still a complete mystery, her past shrouded in shadow. She had been selected by the Council just before Ed¡¯s invitation to join, and not once had he heard her name mentioned prior to her ascension. What little he knew of her came from secondhand accounts: she had married young, had a son, and tragically lost her husband a few years after their child was born.

    Choosing to pretend ignorance, Ed replied, ¡°I cannot say that I am surprised, no.¡± With a wave of his arm encompassing the sea of paper on his desk, he continued, ¡°But I can admit to not expecting this much¡­ interest.¡±

    Taking in the table¡¯s contents herself, the Archmage nodded. ¡°Yes, you have been away from Gremelda for a long time and have not seen the battlefield that finding a husband has become.¡±

    Her tone shifted minutely, and if Ed had not been so on edge, he might have missed it.

    ¡°And that leads me back to my reason for coming here. Your grandson is a mage, a powerful one at that, and you did not notify the Council? How am I to take that positively, Councilmen Wycliffe?¡±

    ¡°With all due respect, Archmage. You can take it however you¡¯d like.¡±

    Ed watched her eyes widen at the blunt statement. Well done, you old goat, playing ignorant lasted for all of two sentences. He doubted there were many in the kingdom willing to speak in such a manner to a woman this powerful, and his choosing to do so would not be quickly forgotten.

    After only a moment¡¯s hesitation, those same eyes narrowed in irritation, demanding, ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°I made the decision that I felt was best for my family, Archmage. In this case, it was to keep the knowledge that my grandson was Gifted, quiet.¡± Waving once more at the letters, ¡°If this is any indication, I was right in doing so. We had the means and ability to teach him the basics of magic, and to prepare him for the Academy without all of¡ªthis.¡± He said, his grand gesture managing to encapsulate the Mages Council, the Capital, and all the politics within, in a single motion. ¡°And it is a choice we would willingly make again.¡±

    The unblinking stare and lack of reaction his outburst brought to the Archmage¡¯s face, made Ed¡¯s skin crawl. Her eyes dissecting him piece by piece, his every word under scrutiny.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I have heard how well you and your wife taught him the basics.¡± Her pointed emphasis on the singular, only deepened the prickling sensation under his skin. ¡°Young Quinten has already drawn the attention of the Mage Academy¡¯s Headmistress¡ªI would not be surprised if you saw a letter from her or one of her friends joining that pile.¡±

    Unsure of how to respond, Ed remained silent, simply returning her gaze. But a cold sweat began to form at the direction the conversation was heading.

    ¡°I will be watching him as well, and look forward to meeting him at the Academy¡¯s Mid-year Ball. If he continues to impress, I may have a few candidates of my own for you to consider.¡±

    With that, she turned and strode out of Ed¡¯s office. He watched her go, holding his breath until he was sure she was gone. All but falling into his chair, he unceremoniously lifted his feet up on the desk, crushing parchment and scuffing the unmarred white. He thought it was fitting. He felt just like the tarnished paper after that conversation.

    Pushing his chair back on to its rear legs, staring up at the ceiling in concern. He hoped for a simple answer to the situation. He remained fixated on the white stone with accented timbers for a long, long time.

    *****

    Mage Academy

    Quinten ducked the punch as it came in too slowly to be anything but a trap. Stepping back and to the side, he pivoted. Boots crunching in the dirt as he shifted his footing. His hard toe cap connecting with the inside of his opponent¡¯s thigh, earning a grunt. The man¡¯s breath fogging in the chilly Spring air. His next step nearly making the leg buckle.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Refusing to capitalize on the opening, Quinten spun. Just in time to see the second guard back on his feet and charging.

    Unable to keep the exhilaration off his face, Quinten grinned, the early morning light giving his face the healthy glow of youth and new growth.

    Bracing himself to meet the man, Quinten sprawled on top. Splaying his legs and keeping his balance. The elbow crashing into the guard''s head, dropped him face first into the dirt, making up the training yard. Turning back to the man with the bum leg, Q raised both fists and beckoned him forward.

    Guard Captain Reece took one step forward and winced, waving Q off in surrender.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough for me, my lord. You¡¯re too good to fight alone, and I¡¯ll need to walk if I want to complete my duties for the day. I would appreciate Healer Hastings taking a look at Sergeant Nichols if he wouldn¡¯t mind. We can¡¯t afford to have him out, not today at least.¡±

    Ronan, already striding over to the groaning man who was slowly working his way to his hands and knees, called, ¡°Not a Healer, at least not yet.¡±

    ¡°You heal, you¡¯re a Healer¡ªMage Hastings.¡± Reece said, deferentially.

    Reaching the captain, Quinten traded grips with the man. ¡°Thank you for the spar. Garrick, the man who oversaw my training, would never forgive me if I let it go to waste.¡±

    Wiping the sweat from his brow, he said, ¡°The pleasure is mine. It¡¯s not often we get shown such respect, getting asked to train with a member of the nobility.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on today? If you don¡¯t mind sharing.¡±

    Reece looked at him askance before shrugging and saying, ¡°We have some important guests coming through today. It¡¯s not altogether uncommon. But¡ªevery aspect of the Academy must present with its best foot forward.¡± The last spoken as if having heard it said enough to become memory.

    Frowning, Quinten asked, ¡°Do you have to escort the guests while they are here? I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen one of your guards away from the gate or walls.¡±

    ¡°Stars above,¡± the captain snorted. ¡°The headmistress would never allow the likes of us to sully her Academy. No offense, my lord.¡±

    ¡°None taken.¡±

    ¡°We are here to protect you from anyone trying to breach the gates or slip over the wall. We have no authority within them, not when nine-in-ten of the residents are mages or nobles in their own right.¡±

    It made a certain kind of sense, even if it did make Quinten feel for the older man. He assumed the captain was well paid for a relatively easy position. He clearly didn¡¯t do it for the love of its hallowed halls.

    *****

    ¡°We really shouldn¡¯t be doing this,¡± muttered Ronan as the three shuffled down the hallway. Quinten¡¯s wind screen keeping the sound of their passage contained within.

    ¡°Come off it, Ronan. You know these two deserve it. How many times has he done something like this to you?¡± Asked Cedric, gently pushing him forward.

    Quinten, using a combination of air elemental and mind magic, he¡¯d discovered in the library a couple of weeks earlier, created a reflective surface in his cupped hand, allowing him to see around the corner

    ¡°Fine, fine. You are sure they have gone to dinner though?¡±

    ¡°Cedric and I watched them leave with the other first-year boys a little while ago. We¡¯re doing this. If you want to wait in my room, you¡¯re more than welcome to.¡±

    Ronan didn¡¯t answer, but chose to stay with them. It was Cedric who filled the silence. ¡°Did you two know that bird wings are shaped differently depending on how they are used for flight?¡±

    Stopping, Quinten turned to look at his friend in confusion. ¡°What?¡± Ronan¡¯s equally perplexed expression conveying his own.

    ¡°Nothing, just something I read in the library.¡±

    Quinten turned back to their mission, but could hear Ronan ask, ¡°Why are you reading about birds?¡±

    Taking a quick peek behind him. He saw Cedric shrug, saying, ¡°They can fly,¡± as if it were answer enough.

    Reaching their target, Quinten pulled out a ball of mud from within his robe. Holding it up to the keyhole, he manipulated it with his Gift. He pushed the mud into the lock, shaping it to fit the inner tumblers. When he had the fit just right, he transmuted the mud and created a stone key. Turning it, he heard as much as felt the satisfying click of the door unlocking, allowing the trio access to the quarters of one, Lord Taylor Hastings.

    *****

    Quinten felt it the moment his orb of compressed air was disrupted, but it was the loud bang that told them when their prank was discovered. The gagging noise that accompanied the sound of pounding feet running down the hallway had them all grinning.

    Opening the door, they followed the stream of boys as they ran to see what¡¯d caused the commotion. Stopping a few feet from what Quinten knew to be Taylor¡¯s room, the group of first-year boys fanned out with several covering their noses.

    The smell of horse dung was just strong enough to reach Quinten, Ronan, and Cedric in the back.

    ¡°Stars above, it¡¯s like a horse pat exploded in there.¡± The closest boy called. ¡°It¡¯s covering everything, even the bed on the ceiling.¡±

    ¡°You mean the bed and the ceiling?¡± Said Reginald, his voice coming out nasally through his plugged nose. Pushing his way to the front. He froze, looking up.

    One-by-one, the line of young men had their chance to see into the room as if it were some kind of roadside attraction. When it was their turn, Quinten and Cedric looked on in appreciation of their work, while Ronan surveyed those around them anxiously.

    The desk and chair had been easy. The legs on each were attached with nails, and therefore, not a continuous piece. Making it simple for Quinten to transmute and affix to the room¡¯s stone ceiling. The bed had been a trickier matter to pull off. Actually getting the frame to stay inverted wasn¡¯t the problem, it was the mattress, pillows, and blanket that¡¯d made the task difficult. Through a creative use of string and a delicate application of transmutation, suggested by Ronan, they¡¯d made do and figured out a solution.

    ¡°For the love of stars, that is ripe.¡± Said Cedric with a muffled laugh, almost managing to turn it into a believable coughing fit.

    ¡°It was you!¡± Said a voice from behind them, cracking on the last vowel.

    Everyone turned to see Taylor, soaking wet and still smelling like a horse stall, pointing at Ronan. His shoulders rising and falling as he took great gulps of air.

    ¡°You think I did this?¡± Ronan asked his brother, incredulous.

    ¡°Yes!¡±

    The watching boys kept looking back and forth between the two brothers like it was a game of fire-toss.

    ¡°Taylor, how could I have? You know where my Mental gifts lie.¡±

    Pointing an accusing finger at Quinten and Cedrick, he said, ¡°They helped you.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t us. We just returned from dinner,¡± objected Cedric, to which a few of the surrounding boys nodded their head in agreement, having seen them return.

    ¡°That is a pretty good way to leave a message.¡± Remarked Quinten in a mild tone, clasping his hands behind his back as he gave the room another once over.

    Frowning, Taylor took a second look at his room. His pallor going slightly green at the sight and smell. ¡°How could this be someone leaving a message?¡±

    Quinten didn¡¯t think the question was meant for him, but he answered anyway. ¡°That if your manners are horseshit, then horseshit is what you get.¡±

    Taylor met his eyes before quickly looking away.

    *****

    Reginald, hearing the cold statement from the traitor¡¯s son, recognized it for what it was.

    Wanting no part in whatever came next, he crept backward through the boys crowding the hallway. Reaching his door, he pushed it open, not noticing the attached string as it passed through the bubble of compressed air.

    The explosion made him piss himself.

    Thankfully, his robes were able to hide that fact. Once he¡¯d picked himself up off the floor and managed to get his heartbeat back under control. He would soon realize he was far luckier than his friend.

    Even if he¡¯d need help getting his furniture off the ceiling, at least his room was only coated in shaving lather.

 B1C28 - Mid-term Duels

    The bare branches of the ash trees budded with pinnate leaves. Announcing the start of the year¡¯s growing cycle and the end of winter. The earlier sunrise and warmer weather inviting the students of the Academy to break their hibernation, Quinten among them. Having spent the time in total submersion in his studies, the past weeks flew by in a blur.

    Today would be different. It marked a change that effectively broke him out of the routine he¡¯d settled into like a scratchy threadbare blanket that he refused to give up, it being better than going without.

    It was the end of the quarter and the first opportunity for the second-years to duel. Something they¡¯d been forced to observe their seniors do the year prior, and now it was their turn.

    Intended to assess each student¡¯s combat potential, the findings were supposedly used to assist in their placement within the Mage Core. It was rumored that if someone showed enough promise, they were given the option of choosing their first assignment out of the Academy.

    Going into the duels, Cedric and Quinten had agreed to refrain from showing any more than they had to. Preferably, no more than they¡¯d already revealed in their day-to-day classes. It was clear by the snippets they¡¯d overheard that the pair were prime targets. They¡¯d chosen to hide most of their abilities. The one exception being in their private sessions with Instructor Burns. Even with their caution, the other instructors and students were expecting something special from the two year-jumpers.

    Quinten was being particularly cautious after receiving an oddly worded letter from his grandfather. After reading through it several times, he¡¯d decided to take the references to ravens, an owl, and a flight of doves as a warning. Quinten wanted to draw as little attention to himself as possible.

    Cedric, however, had his own motivations to contend with. He wanted to impress Celeste. Who, after weeks of effort, had finally allowed him to court her, if only in secret. For Cedric, demonstrating his skill without giving away his full potential was going to be difficult. Like a winding path climbing up a narrow mountain ledge.

    The day¡¯s duels were set randomly and to be announced shortly. Half taking place that morning, with the remainder following after lunch.

    ¡°I¡¯m telling you,¡± argued Ronan animatedly. ¡°We have done almost no testing on what kinds of Healing could be accomplished when combined with a Mental gift. How many soldiers could be saved from taking their own lives because their body came back from war but their mind didn¡¯t?¡±

    Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Quinten said. ¡°I know, I know, Ronan. You don¡¯t have to convince me. I already told you I¡¯d let you try it on me¡ª"

    ¡°Already worried about needing a Healer, little pyro?¡±

    Turning in surprise at the voice, the trio were met by a small wall of bodies. Made up of more than triple their number, they fanned out behind the speaker.

    Oliver Wyndham¡¯s gaze bore into him as he tried to stare Quinten down, and to both their surprises, they discovered they were now of a height.

    It¡¯s been several months since we¡¯ve actually spoken to each other, he thought. Seeing the smirk momentarily falter on the older boy¡¯s face.

    After that first day, they¡¯d not had a true conversation, just the occasional ¡°Wyndham¡± or ¡°Little pyro¡±, a nickname that Oliver continued to use. Even though it¡¯d long since lost its meaning to Quinten.

    Refusing to take the bait, Quinten looked the group over, mostly female, but with a few male faces found among them. He was only a little surprised to see a pair of white-robed boys doing their best to remain invisible in the back. As far away from Quinten, Cedric, and Ronan as they could manage.

    Irritated at being ignored, Oliver decided to change targets. His gaze tracking to Cedric. ¡°A little birdie tol¡ª¡±

    ¡°What do you want, Mage Wyndham?¡±

    Thrown off by the abrupt interruption, Oliver refocused on Quinten. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°I asked, what do you want? Why are you here, Mage Wyndham?¡±

    It was clear by the way his mouth moved, but no words came out, that the noble was not used to being spoken to in such a way.

    A strong breeze swept through the training yard. Blowing a lock of raven-colored hair into Oliver¡¯s eyes. Raising a hand to brush it back into place, Quinten had to admit the boy recovered quickly, as he was already giving them the serpentine smile he¡¯d worn on their first day.

    ¡°I am here, checking on my fellow students. You two in particular. We all know how skilled you are, to advance so quickly.¡± Twisting his neck to look back over his shoulder, Oliver¡¯s hanger-ons bobbed their heads in agreement. ¡°But that came at a price. You were unable to witness the duels during your first years. I just wanted to make sure you didn¡¯t have any¡­ concerns.¡±

    He¡¯s good. I bet he¡¯d be right at home in a viper¡¯s pit. Quinten thought, trading a look between his friends. If that is the game you¡¯d like to play. You never know who is listening.

    Feigning a look of concern, Quinten chose his words carefully. ¡°My apologies, Mage Wyndham. My welcome was brisk. Maybe I¡¯m feeling the pressure a bit more than I was aware. I believe we will be fine, but we appreciate your concern. It truly shows your commitment to your fellow students, and to the Academy.¡±

    Eyes flashing, Oliver¡¯s grin spread fractionally. Forcing Quinten to fight off a small shiver as he tried not to consider what was going through the older boy¡¯s mind.

    Licking his lips. Oliver¡¯s eyes flicked to Cedric, saying, ¡°I guess we¡¯ll just have to wait and see how true that is.¡±

    Without another word, he stalked away. His followers trailing behind like a pack of well-heeled dogs.

    Cedric let out a loud exhale, pasting on an overly large smile. ¡°I really like him, he is a man of quality.¡±

    Ronan snorted, ¡°Ever since you found out he was on Celeste¡¯s list, you¡¯ve hated him.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the type who is used to getting what he wants without issue,¡± Quinten said absentmindedly. Rubbing his arm where the hair stood on end. ¡°I bet that when he doesn¡¯t, he¡¯d be willing to try to break you.¡± Just like his father.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    The tone of the crowd shifted. Alerting the three that something had changed.

    Speaking of people we hate, he thought, unable to stop himself. Pushing aside his dislike for the man. He listened as Instructor Highbridge addressed the gathered students from the raised dais overlooking the field. ¡°The pairs for today¡¯s duels have been decided. Once your name is called, make your way to the arena seating and wait for your turn.¡±

    Peering around at the assembled students, he continued, ¡°This is your first opportunity to show your instructors what sets you apart. What makes you better. Don¡¯t let the chance pass you by.¡±

    Quinten and Cedric had been less than pleased to discover that the second-year class on Transmutation was also taught by Instructor Highbridge. Though he continued to ignore the two of them as he had in the first-year class, the difference in atmosphere was notable. The female students sat in a strange, icy silence, their eyes often cast down and fixed on their desks or locked onto the instructor with a burning intensity. And yet, Instructor Highbridge carried on teaching, his tone indifferent, as if pretending he didn¡¯t notice the tension that permeated the room.

    Maybe he doesn¡¯t. A more self-centered person, I have never met.

    ¡°Cedric Vaelmara¡­ will be dueling Oliver Wyndham.¡±

    Pulled from his thoughts, Quinten saw Cedric¡¯s head as it whipped toward the instructor, his reaction being the only tell as his expression remained steady. He gave his friend a sidelong glance, a flicker of concern passing between them. Cedric¡¯s lips tightened, and he nodded once, resolute.

    ¡°Prepare yourselves. The first duels will begin in ten minutes.¡± The voice of Instructor Highbridge announced, echoing off the stone walls. Just in time to be heard by the first-years as they made their way down to their section of seating.

    Ronan was the first of the trio called forward. Pushing his Gift into his eyes, Quinten tracked his friend¡¯s opponent as he made his way down to the already torn up grass of the training field. Half again as large as the Healer, the other boy looked like he hauled granite for fun and ate basalt as a snack. He was also a part of Oliver¡¯s group from earlier that morning.

    ¡°You don¡¯t think Oliver The Twat will try anything with him, do you? You know he¡¯s not a fighter.¡±

    Quinten shook his head slowly, but couldn¡¯t quite relax his clenched hands. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. He¡¯s not new to the class like we are, and everyone knows he¡¯s going to be a healer. You don¡¯t piss them off, not when you may need them to save you someday.¡±

    Cedric peered at him through squinted eyes. ¡°I didn¡¯t recognize the name of the girl you are supposed to fight. But what are the odds Ronan and I would be given the pairings we received?¡±

    ¡°Not great,¡± mumbled Quinten. A tingling sensation across his neck had him turning.

    Steely grey eyes met golden hazel with a twiddling of fingers. They shifted to the side, making Cedric twitch, bringing a slow curl to the young man¡¯s lips.

    *****

    Ronan hated dueling. He understood the reasoning behind it, that in war, even the non-combatants may need to defend themselves. It still did not change the fact that Ronan hated it.

    While his Gifts did not lend themselves to combat, that was not the reason he wanted to be a Healer. He was fascinated by the concept of combining all three of his Gifts to facilitate healing on a scale never before seen. He could spend hours discussing the various ways in which Healing magic could be combined with one or both of his other Gifts. But no¡ªno, Ronan had to go fight.

    Looking across the dueling field, he sighed. Of course it would be Jed.

    The harassment had stopped once Quinten and Cedric joined their year. Ronan never brought it up, not wanting to taint their new friendship or their opinion of him. They gave him a sense of belonging that he¡¯d protect at all costs. For the first time in years, he wasn¡¯t alone.

    He must be among the stars, getting this match up. Ronan thought, feeling his stomach churn.

    ¡°On my call,¡± announced Instructor Highbridge. Waving his arms extravagantly as if he were conducting a parade before the king.

    Ronan tensed as he felt his opponent''s beady eyed stare bore into him. He could feel his hands begin to sweat and his heart start to pump faster and faster. He could feel each beat pushing the blood within. The smell of freshly overturned earth and burned grass from the fights before them filtered through his nose. Everything he heard increased in volume until it became a single ringing tone that drowned it all out.

    ¡°Begin!¡±

    Ronan dove into his pocket while Jed charged. His opponent¡¯s body shifting, growing a few inches taller and bulking up with even more muscle. Dark fur sprouted in patches, doing its best to cover exposed skin. Hands and face darkened as his brow bone swelled, revealing the telltale signs of his Transmutation gift. It wasn¡¯t on the level of Cedric, who could shift his body almost entirely and in different ways. Jed could only manage one aspect of the shift. In a fight against Ronan, that would likely be enough.

    Without an Elemental gift to summon projectiles, Ronan had no means of launching direct attacks like fire or earth. Instead, Quinten had helped him prepare for today¡¯s duel by replicating the metal spheres that he and Cedric had trained with under Elara¡¯s guidance. Over the past few weeks, Ronan had practiced controlling the steel orbs, and could now manage three at once.

    Walking backward to create space, he launched the balls into the air and gripped them with his mind. Setting them spinning in a wide orbit around his body to maintain their momentum. He sent the first flying toward Jed, aiming for the knee. It struck slightly off target, hitting his opponent''s thick thigh with a meaty smack instead. Undeterred, Ronan launched the next two, quickly recalling the first sphere back into rotation. All the while, he continued to circle the dueling area, stalling for time.

    Jed grunted in surprise at the first impact, but was ready for those that came after. He dodged one sphere, letting it whistle past his head, while the second caught him on the shoulder, eliciting a low growl.

    As Jed closed the gap between them, Ronan could feel the panic rising. The brute strength of Jed¡¯s transmuted form was overwhelming, and Ronan knew he couldn¡¯t hold him off forever. Steeling his nerves, he directed one sphere to curve around, angling toward Jed¡¯s exposed side, while sending the other two in a straight line, hoping to divide his opponent¡¯s attention.

    Jed saw the attack coming and tried to deflect the spheres with his thickened arm. One orb grazed his ribs while the other bounced off his bicep. The third, however, caught him off guard, striking his lower leg. The sharp crack of steel meeting bone, bouncing off the stone walls. He stumbled, momentarily losing balance, but continued limping forward, eyes burning with fury.

    Ronan could feel his control over the spheres wavering under the pressure of combat. He recalled all three to his side, breathing heavily, and knew he had only moments before Jed reached him. His mind raced for a strategy as the hulking figure bore down on him.

    *****

    ¡°He¡¯s done for¡­¡± Cedric stated in a small voice.

    Quinten nodded as he watched, body tense, as the towering beast rushed their smaller friend. Ronan managed to get off one last volley of spheres to little effect. His opponent barreling through the attack, finally reaching his target.

    The kick he landed on Ronan¡¯s chest lifted the healer off the floor. Sending him flying several feet before crashing into a scorched section of grass. Ash and dirt rose in his wake, obscuring the vision of those watching.

    They could practically hear the air forced from their friend¡¯s lungs when he landed. Q¡¯s hands curled into fists at the pain he knew the older boy was likely feeling. While he understood the Academy¡¯s justification for making students fight, there had to be a better way.

    The heavy stomping strides of Ronan¡¯s opponent set the arena on edge as he waded into the cloud. Swinging his bulging arms around him like a grotesque windmill to clear the air.

    When they could finally see, the view had Quinten on the edge of his seat.

    The wall of muscle, that he would later learn to be named Jed, stood planted over Ronan¡¯s prone form. Which looked like it hadn¡¯t moved after it¡¯d hit the ground, likely knocked unconscious by the impact. Quinten waited, expecting to hear Highbridge or one of the other instructors declare the battle finished.

    Looking around for Burns, someone Quinten knew would stop the fight. He started to panic when he couldn¡¯t find the mage in the sea of onlookers. With dawning dread, he realized that this duel may not be coming to an end on its own.

 B1C29 - Taboo

    Quinten lunged to his feet. Gripping the cold, unforgiving stone railing before him. He¡¯s too far away for me to stop him at range and too heavy to trust that his clothes, those that remain, will be enough to hold him.

    Watching Jed¡¯s boot rise, poised to stomp down on his friend, Quinten made his choice.

    Screw the star-blasted consequences.

    One sharp breath later, he raised a hand and reached out telekinetically. His gift surging through him as he locked the older boy in place, freezing him mid-stomp. Leaving a dirty, dust caked boot hovering inches above Ronan¡¯s chest.

    Gasps rippled through the crowd. Students and instructors alike rose to their feet in horror. Being the first to stand, he¡¯d already drawn a few looks. Now, all eyes were on him¡ªthe outstretched hand, his fixed gaze, and his breech of a deep taboo.

    Instructor Highbridge¡¯s voice cut through the stunned silence, trembling with emotion. ¡°Are you mad!? Release him immediately.¡±

    Quinten ignored the man, his focus still wholly on Jed.

    Turning his wrist, he translated the simple motion to metaphysical action. Lifting his shifted captive into the air, Quinten moved him across the field and far away from his friend. Only then did he release him.

    Jed staggered as his body returned to his control. Immediately shifting back to his normal appearance, he met Quinten''s eyes briefly. Whatever he saw drained the color from his face, and he quickly averted his gaze, trembling.

    The dueling field had gone deathly silent. The only sound was Cedric¡¯s feet impacting the ground as he leapt down from the stands and jogged over to check on Ronan. Peering around him, Quinten noticed the stares. A mixture of shock and fear written across their faces.

    Not many had seen him work his Mental gift, with it only being pushed to its limits in his sessions with instructor Burns or in his own private training. What he¡¯d just done was on a level that few second-years could hope to replicate. It wasn¡¯t just the increased weight of Jed¡¯s shifted form, it was the distance he¡¯d mentally reached that shook those who understood, to their cores. Seeing him do so in an effort to rob someone of their physical autonomy. A closely held fear by many when it came to those with the Mental gift, other mages included. It was no surprise Quinten''s actions had resulted in this type of reaction.

    Turning to face Instructor Highbridge¡¯s apoplectic expression¡ªhis face crimson, with veins bulging at his temples¡ªQuinten braced himself. The instructor¡¯s voice, a low and venomous hiss from between his clenched teeth, was somehow still loud enough for all to hear. ¡°Do you have any idea what you¡¯ve done?¡±

    Quinten swallowed, but met the man¡¯s gaze without flinching. Augmenting his own voice, he answered with only a slight hitch in his throat as he felt the weight of all those watching bear down on him. ¡°I stopped a clearly unconscious student from being unnecessarily injured.¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Highbridge¡¯s voice cracked on the word in indignation, his body trembling. ¡°You violated one of our most sacred principles! Mental control of another person¡ªit¡¯s forbidden! Do you know how many mages have been killed for this?¡±

    Quinten''s jaw clenched. Peering around him, he saw an unsympathetic crowd. He knew the Council of Mages guidance on Mental magic. It was one of the first things Elara taught him. But he also knew he couldn¡¯t stand by and do nothing. Knowing he¡¯d do it again if given the same choice. His decision settled around him like a warm cloak of integrity and decency.

    ¡°That may be,¡± Quinten replied, his voice steady despite the severity of the accusation. ¡°But I would not have needed to take such drastic measures to protect my fellow student had you called an end to the duel as you should have.¡±

    Excited murmurs swept through the crowd. With Highbridge sneering at Quinten, his chin raised higher than even his nose. Staring down from the overlooking dais as if he were a watered-down version of the king. ¡°This won¡¯t go unanswered. You¡¯ve crossed a line, Mage Ashford, and you will face the consequences.¡±

    *****

    The headmistress¡¯s office had a different flavor compared to his last visit. The hard wood floors and paneling used to accent the formed stonework were now taking on an authoritative cast. Supported by centuries of tradition and beliefs, many of them formed due to necessity and fear. A palpable emotion that Quinten could practically taste while he was escorted from the training field.

    ¡°I should have you placed under arrest and presented to the Council of Mages for trial.¡±

    Quinten held back a response, observing the room instead. The bookshelves lining the wall remained orderly. A contrast to the avalanche of clutter covering the headmistresses desk. Smudged drafts, a spilled inkpot, and a number of files strewn haphazardly on the wooden surface. One of which contained the letters QVA scrawled across the front.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°A trial for what, headmistress? I have broken no laws lain down by the King.¡±

    Having noticed his perusal of her work area, the silver-haired woman rose to her feet, stepping over to the sideboard. Neither spoke. The telltale sounds of a cork popping and liquid being poured filled the otherwise silent room.

    Turning to face him once more, she eyed him, as if considering the best method to prepare him for a meal.

    But not for herself, Quinten thought. Her gaze containing none of the heat that would indicate. No, this was a cold, calculative consideration.

    She raised the glass of dark liquid to her lips and took a shallow sip.

    ¡°¡­.¡±

    Blinking rapidly, Quinten asked. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, headmistress. Could you repeat that?¡±

    Frowning, she looked down at the glass in her hand. The item he¡¯d been unable to look away from and the thing responsible for Quinten''s distracted state.

    ¡°I said, you may not have broken any kingdom laws, but you have violated one of the pillars of trust the non-gifted look to us to uphold. How can we expect them to feel safe if they fear being controlled against their will by our Gifts?¡±

    Clearing a throat that¡¯d gone inexplicably dry, Quinten replied. ¡°That is beyond me. And I believe, this situation, Headmistress.¡±

    She leaned back against the sideboard, light enough that not a glass rang from touching another. Nodding her head in concession, she admitted. ¡°Possibly, but you are walking a thin line in the use of your Gift. One wrong step could have far-reaching consequences. It may even be considered my duty to report this incident to the Archmage and the Council.¡±

    Drifting gracefully across the office, she sat demurely on a conveniently placed chaise lounge.

    ¡°Perhaps¡­¡± she said, tapping her lower lip with her glass. Drawing Quinten''s gaze to it once more. Lowering her tone charmingly, she continued. ¡°Perhaps¡ªit does not need to come to that. I have certain¡­ influence, you understand. A conversation among my peers could be all that is needed to keep this unfortunate incident from reaching the Council. You¡¯re young, talented, and your future remains wide open. With the right decisions, your actions today do not need to tarnish that.¡±

    Quinten''s eyebrow twitched, but otherwise, he made no indication of his thoughts as he considered the words spoken, and more importantly, the ones left unsaid.

    Surely she must know Grandfather is back on the Council.

    In a bid for time, Quinten faked an exaggerated swallow and asked a question he knew she¡¯d be happy to answer.

    ¡°Which decisions would those be?

    A subtle smile slowly crept across her face. ¡°With whom you align yourself with, of course.¡± She said, a tinkling laugh dancing throughout the room.

    ¡°A young man of your potential should marry into a family of equal or greater standing. I happen to know a few families who may be amenable to such a union. I¡¯d be happy to make the necessary introductions.¡± Her eyes were gleaming with excitement, a full-blown smile blooming on her lips.

    Quinten couldn¡¯t help feel the implication hanging in the air like the ball of compressed manure they¡¯d set off in Taylor¡¯s room months before.

    Processing the blatant extortion, he recognized the out she was offering him. If he agreed to her terms, it was a way to avoid confrontation with the Council. The price being marriage, binding himself and his future to someone of her choosing.

    The silence stretched between them. A thick cloying deluge doing its best to wash Quinten away with the current of the headmistress¡¯s ambition, or drown him in his refusal.

    Quinten''s eyes unintentionally darted to her hand one last time as his thoughts coalesced. Taking in the faceted glass, the finely worked metal banding the cup¡¯s base, and the ornate raven¡¯s head etched into the polished silver.

    ¡°An interesting proposition, headmistress,¡± he said. His voice coming out smooth and easy. Strengthened by his confidence, he was making the right choice.

    Thank you for the warning, Grandfather.

    ¡°I¡ªcan¡¯t help but believe we have differing understandings of the current situation.¡±

    Her smile faltered ever so slightly. A flicker of unease, of uncertainty, flashing across her expression at his change of demeanor.

    Sitting up, she asked. ¡°Whatever do you mean?¡± Her tone noticeably colder than it had been moments earlier.

    With precise movements, the first steps since planting himself before the headmistress¡¯s desk. Quinten stalked over to her side of the room and sat down on the edge of an armchair, uninvited.

    ¡°My actions, as questionable as they may have been, are rational¡­ explainable, even. I¡¯m confident in the Council¡¯s judgement if this incident was brought before them.¡± Leaning back in the chair, Quinten took on a thoughtful expression.

    ¡°Yes¡ªI¡¯m quite confident. After all, my actions were knowingly in full view of both students and instructors. I stopped a duel that had gone too far and prevented a helpless student from being brutally injured. The inheriting son of a Duke, no less.¡± He said, holding the gaze of the woman across from him.

    Behind her pale green eyes he saw dawning surprise, frustration, and something¡­ else.

    Unable to stop the momentum of his speech, Quinten continued. ¡°There was nothing nefarious about my use of magic, and the circumstances of the situation would go a long way to alleviating the fear of the non-gifted were they to learn of today¡¯s events.¡±

    The thoughtful look he¡¯d lost somewhere along the way in his tangent returned, drawing his brows together in concern.

    ¡°Perhaps¡­¡± he said, pausing in a reflection of her earlier machinations. ¡°Perhaps it would not be in the best interest of the Academy, for this failing of its instructors to become widely known. For the Peerage, who send their children here to learn, to find out that their children are at risk.¡±

    The headmistress didn¡¯t speak immediately. She just continued to watch him as she swirled the remnants of her drink around its glass confines.

    ¡°You¡¯re very sure of yourself, Mage Ashford.¡± She said in a cold and empty voice that scared Quinten far more than if she¡¯d lost her composure in anger.

    A small shiver worked its way up Quinten''s spine, starting in his left calf.

    ¡°It takes courage to stand behind the truth, headmistress¡ªA lesson my father taught me.¡±

    Another long silence passed as they held each other¡¯s gaze.

    Rising to her feet, she said. ¡°Well played. I suppose we will leave it at that¡ªfor now. Do not think that this will simply disappear, Mage Ashford. Actions have consequences.¡±

    There are always consequences, Quinten thought.

    With a flick of her hand, the door to her office swung open. Revealing, the two instructors crouched against them, doing their best to listen in.

    ¡°He¡¯s free to go. This morning¡¯s duels are over and the students have likely already broken for lunch.¡± Turning to Quinten, she said, ¡°Do be careful, Mage Ashford. One never knows when a consequence will decide to take its due.¡±

 B1C30 - The Infirmary

    His first deep lungful of air felt like the dawn of Spring after a long and heavy Winter. Stopping just outside of the administration building, Quinten watched the two instructors walk away. Casting glances at him from over their shoulders and speaking in hushed tones as they hurried down the tree-lined path.

    The morning¡¯s dew had already burned off the leaf buds and needles of ash and fir sprinkled on either side of the stone walkway. Leaving the year¡¯s new growth turning its face toward the sun, basking in its welcoming warmth.

    Blinking up at the light and heat caressing his face, Quinten shook out the tension that¡¯d coiled deep within him. Tightening every part with anxiety and stressed caused by dealing in the game of words that politics so often required.

    Though he walked alone to the main hall and the mid-day meal, he never felt the often welcoming embrace of it being just him and his thoughts. The tingling sensation that let you know someone was watching you stayed with him, hand in hand as he passed grey and white-robed students enjoying the balmy weather but for his presence. Bringing with it a plethora of expressions that Quinten did his best to ignore.

    Reaching the hall, Quinten felt the knot in his gut ease as he slipped quietly into the room. The slight comfort was short-lived. A wave of movement passed through the dining hall in a turning of heads. Every eye fixed directly on him, sucking all the sound out of the room like a howling wind.

    Trying to hone in on anything that would keep him from freezing on the spot, he failed. Seeing Ronan alone at their usual table, already rising and quickly making his way forward.

    Fear gripped Quinten by the throat, acid bubbling up and burning the back of it.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Cedric?¡±

    Ignoring the question, Ronan grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back through the doors. They¡¯d barely made it through before Quinten summoned a windscreen, pulling his arm away and grabbing Ronan by the shoulders instead.

    ¡°Ronan.¡± He said with a shake. ¡°Where is Cedric?¡±

    Unable to look Quinten in the eyes, Ronan swallowed hard. His throat bobbing animatedly as it worked.

    ¡°He¡¯s in the Infirmary.¡± Seeing the expression on Quinten''s face, he rushed to continue. ¡°He¡¯s going to be fine. But¡ªhe took a bit of a beating from Oliver. It¡­¡± Trailing off, Ronan shook his head. ¡°It could have been worse, but it should never have happened. I think it was payback for stopping Jed.¡±

    Turning Ronan around, Quinten gently pushed him forward. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if the Healers will let us in to see him.¡± Ronan protested, but his feet continued carrying him toward the Infirmary.

    ¡°They will.¡±

    *****

    Ronan¡¯s inability to see other people in pain, even the normal bruising, strained muscles, or contusions that came as a part of physical and martial training meant that none of the trio had spent much time in the Infirmary.

    It¡¯s white stone walls smelled strongly of the alcohol-mix used to clean the floors combining with the bleaching agent used for the bedding, spare blankets, and cloth bandages in an overpowering of scents that had Quinten tapping his gift to dull his sense of smell. An application he¡¯d only ever done when mucking out a horse stall by way of punishment.

    The large open room was surprisingly cold. The space below the main area was kept filled with ice by Academy students, and the chilled air would them be pumped into the room above to help fight off disease. Something that¡¯d never really been a concern with Healing, but after the mage plague a few years prior, it became a practice they¡¯d implemented as a safeguard against future magic-resistant sicknesses.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Staring down at their unconscious friend, Quinten was grateful that other than a mobilization cast on one arm and the opposite leg, Cedric¡¯s injuries appeared to be the faded-yellow color of week old bruising. The Healers having already taken care of most of the damage.

    ¡°Why does he need the casts and why haven¡¯t you finished healing the bruises?¡±

    ¡°We couldn¡¯t, not yet at least,¡± Answered the white-robed woman standing behind them in a waspish tone. Irritated by Quinten''s refusal to leave. His threat of forcing his way in if they didn¡¯t let him at least check on their friend likely did not help the matter.

    ¡°Why not?¡± Pushed Quinten, irritation starting to color his own voice.

    ¡°His body wasn¡¯t ready for it.¡± Ronan said, gently placing a hand on Quinten''s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. ¡°Even with the help of Healing magic, the recipient¡¯s body has to provide a lot of the energy required. It¡¯s why you and Cedric always eat like animals any time you go too hard during training.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve seen him. He¡¯ll likely sleep the rest of the day.¡± Said the woman. Her foot tapping a staccato rhythm as she glared. ¡°He may be discharged as early as tomorrow morning. Now, will you please leave? I have more important things to do than stand here keeping an eye on you.¡±

    Quinten raised an eyebrow at the young woman. The young looking woman, he corrected.

    So caught up in wanting to see his friend for himself. Quinten hadn¡¯t even noticed the cut and style of her white-robes were not those of a first-year. She was an actual Healer, trained by the Mage¡¯s Council.

    ¡°Of course, Healer. My apologies. I was concerned, but that does not forgive my rudeness.¡± Quinten said with a slight bow of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ronan had placed a few fingers on Cedric¡¯s bare thigh, just above his cast. A soft golden glow emanating from beneath them.

    ¡°If you will accept my apology. In repayment, I would be happy to refill your ice room.¡±

    Quinten breathed a sigh of relief as the woman¡¯s focus stayed on him while she considered. Looking at him in suspicion, she slowly nodded.

    ¡°Fine, come with me.¡±

    *****

    Ronan was waiting for Quinten outside of the Infirmary by the time he¡¯d finished refilling and refreezing the thawed ice. It was an odd sensation¡ªsweating in the chill of the lower chamber, only to step outside into the warmth of the afternoon, shivering from the use of his Gift.

    ¡°Thanks for distracting her,¡± Ronan said.

    Shaking his head, Quinten shrugged. ¡°She¡¯s a Healer, can¡¯t have her angry with me. What were you doing in there?¡± Frowning, he asked. ¡°Is he OK?¡±

    Waving Quinten off, Ronan said. ¡°He¡¯s fine. Healers always hold back a little of what they can do in case there are complications. I wanted to check on Cedric for myself and ended up giving him a little boost. I¡¯m hoping he¡¯ll be up and awake this evening.¡±

    Sighing in relief, Quinten pulled the other boy into a quick hug. ¡°Thanks for looking out for him.¡±

    Blinking slowly, Ronan returned the hug, mumbling, ¡°It¡¯s what you do for your friends.¡± Shaking his head, Ronan asked. ¡°So, what now?¡±

    ¡°Now, you are going to tell me what happened.¡±

    ¡°The duel with Oliver. It was going fine at first. Oliver has three Gifts, Elemental, Mental and Physical, and fights like a standard battle mage, lots of fireballs and earth manipulation. Cedric chose not to go into a full shift, just doing a bit more than Jed during our duel.¡± A grin flashed across his face. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I could hear Highbridge swearing from up on the dais.¡±

    Quinten gave a light snort, but his gaze stayed firmly planted on Ronan, waiting for more.

    ¡°Cedric followed the standard tactic for fighting someone with ranged attacks. Get close as fast as possible. He¡¯d already seen me use the steel spheres and was ready for them. They did manage to keep him distracted long enough that Cedric was able to get within a few feet. At least, that¡¯s how it appeared¡­¡±

    Staring at a nearby squirrel as it chattered and leapt between tree limbs, Ronan continued.

    ¡°It was genius, really. Oliver summoned water just below the dirt, keeping it covered. At the last moment he made it surface, freezing the area around him. Cedric slipped and was immediately wrapped in mud.¡±

    Letting out a deep breath, Quinten asked, ¡°I take it the fight didn¡¯t end then.¡± The question was more rhetorical than not.

    Barking out a pained laugh, Ronan winced. ¡°It should have. Instead of turning it to stone, Oliver used Cedric as a battering ram. Doing his best to break through the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling at one point.¡±

    Quinten heard the grinding noise before he felt his jaw sawing back and forth. ¡°None of the instructors stopped it?¡± He asked from between clenched teeth.

    ¡°Some wanted to. You could see it on their faces, but no. no one did. It was a message, Q. A message for you.¡±

    Closing his eyes. He focused on his breathing and tried to relax the tightly wound coil he¡¯d become throughout Ronan¡¯s story.

    ¡°What are we going to do?¡± His friend asked, staring at him with a mixture of expectation and hope.

    Looking up at the sun, Quinten smiled. The expression jarring in its unexpectedness. A predatory glint flashing through his hazel eyes.

    ¡°Unless I¡¯m misjudging the time, I still have a duel scheduled for this afternoon.¡±

 B1C31 - A Lesson In Power

    The pair¡¯s footsteps echoed off the white granite walls of the Training Yard as Quinten and Cedric entered the section being used for today¡¯s duels. Neither spoke as they made their way to the lowest level of seating and chose spots a space or two away from their classmates.

    Quinten could feel eyes of both students and instructors, could hear the whispering, like the howling winds beating on a seaborne ship. Questioning if this would be the storm that sunk him.

    He ignored them all, bar one. Oliver¡¯s storm grey eyes locked with his in a mixture of expectation and excitement.

    ¡°Perfect timing, Mage Ashford.¡± Called Instructor Highbridge. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can do any better than your fellow year-jumper.¡±

    Slowly, and without a word, Quinten made his way to the dueling field and his starting circle. He twisted the toe of his boot back and forth, grinding it into the dirt and sending loose bits tinking off of the basic metal ring. Surveying the field, the academy staff must have refreshed the arena over lunch, as it was in much better shape than the last time he¡¯d seen it.

    Taking a moment to observe his opponent, he had to fight back a smile as he recognized Lady Delka Holden. One of Oliver¡¯s friends and a rumored lover.

    At least that confirms these parings aren¡¯t random.

    When the call to begin came. Quinten took a single unhurried step forward, followed by another, and then a third.

    Delka watched him closely, waiting for an attack that never came. Frowning in confusion, she eventually shrugged and conjured a fireball, launching it in his direction.

    With a dismissive flick of his finger, Quinten swatted the flaming ball of energy away. Sending it rebounding toward the raised dais and earning a squawk from its occupant.

    Another leisurely step and Delka was becoming visibly unnerved. Raising both arms, she lobbed another fireball and sent forth a stone spear. The closer he became, the less time he had to react. Wrapping the stone spear in his mind, he sent it hurling through the fireball, disrupting and dispersing its conjured heat.

    Shuffling sideways, Delka tried to maintain some distance as she launched volley after volley of elemental attacks. Each one effortlessly stopped by a minor use of Quinten''s Gift.

    Holding himself in place telekinetically, he weathered an impressive gust of wind meant to blow him off his feet. To those watching, it appeared as if the blast of air only managed to fluff Quinten''s hair and robes. The amount of dust billowing out behind him showing the strength of her attack.

    The onlookers, previously verbose in their excitement, now stared in stunned fixation as they watched one student systematically dismantle another. This was not a match between second-years. This was a display of power and skill. A lesson being taught without words.

    ¡°What is wrong with you? Are you going to just let me hit you?¡± Delka yelled, sweat running in rivulets down her face, dripping from her chin as she stood defiant.

    Rather than answer, Quinten continued stalking forward, now within fifteen feet of where his opponent came to a stop. Her chest heaving while she tried to catch her breath.

    Not bad, Quinten thought. Feeling the water seeping into the ground beneath him. Too bad Oliver used this trick on Cedric.

    Reaching out with his Gift, he wrenched control of the water away from Delka, making her visibly flinch. Meeting his eyes for the first time. Quinten saw anger, frustration, and a hint of fear clearly within their depths. His opponent began to shake, making one last attempt to stop him.

    Quinten crushed the earthen fist with a stomp of his boot.

    Her energy well nearly dry. It was only a matter of time until he either caught her, or she passed out from over-drawing her Gift. Coming to a halt ten feet away, Quinten finally spoke, his augmented voice echoing off the walls.

    ¡°Yield.¡±

    Confusion filled large brown eyes as she stared at him with brows drawn tight.

    ¡°Why should I?¡± She wheezed, her face turning red in indignation. ¡°You haven¡¯t even attacked me!¡±

    ¡°Do I need to?¡± Quinten asked, his tone flat. He could see the fire inside burning away the fear she¡¯d been trying to ignore.

    It was a small thing, really, the smirk that turned up the corner of Quinten''s mouth. It shouldn¡¯t have been enough to push her over the edge¡ªbut it did.

    With a scream, Delka charged him. Her muscles swelling with the remnants of her Gift. She closed the ten feet in seconds. Quinten watched as she reared back, putting everything she had left into this one punch. To her great despair, her fist only managed to graze his left cheek, narrowly avoiding the dimple his curled lips formed.

    With a burst of his own Gift, Quinten dodged the blow. His return strike catching her cleanly in the temple. Dropping her into the dirt like a falling tree.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    *****

    Knock

    Knock. Knock.

    Quinten looked up from his desk. Shifting his frown from the thick volume on tactics and war engineering to the noise. Rising to his feet, he shook his head.

    I¡¯m never going to make it through this thing.

    ¡°Izzy?¡± Quinten asked, seeing her flushed face on the other side.

    Pushing past him, she strode into the room, refusing to meet his eyes. Not knowing what to do, he stood awkwardly, slowly closing the door behind her.

    He turned, his mouth opening to ask what was going on, when she stopped him with a raised hand.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for just showing up like this, but if I don¡¯t get this out now, I may never. And after what I saw today, I know that would be a mistake.¡±

    Quinten''s heart rate accelerated. Is she talking about what I think she is¡­?

    Seeing his expression, she must have guessed the direction of his thoughts. Looking away quickly, her already dusky complexion darkened as she blushed.

    ¡°I need you to train me!¡± The words tumbling out in a rush. An odd mix of relief and disappointment washing over Quinten.

    Raising a brow, he echoed, ¡°Train you?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Train me.¡± She rushed forward. ¡°The mage you fought would have wiped the floor with me if I¡¯d of been the one to duel her, and you made her seem like a newborn kitten getting disciplined by its mother. I remember your duel with Cedric. I know you were holding back and yet you still destroyed her. I¡¯m not sure who you were sending a message to, but that¡¯s what I want. I need the strength and skill to make myself heard.¡± Her eyes finding his once more during her impassioned speech, and Quinten could tell she meant every word.

    Folding his arms over his chest, he considered her request.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, why? I just told you.¡± She said, a little heat coming into her voice.

    ¡°And I want to know why,¡± Quinten said, staring her down. ¡°This is the second time you¡¯ve come barging into my room. First, I was too strong. ¡°A monster in mage robes¡±, I believe you phrased it. Now, you¡¯re standing here telling me you want my help.¡±

    Breathing through his nose. Quinten re-centered himself and continued in a calmer tone.

    ¡°I feel justified in asking why you changed your mind, or¡­. whatever this is.¡± He finished with a gesture, encapsulating the current stand-off.

    A moment of silence stretched between them, broken by Izzy¡¯s heavy sigh.

    ¡°I need to prove myself as a mage, as being more valuable to the crown in its service or even¡­¡± Breaking eye contact, she started fidgeting with the book on his desk. Turning one page before flipping it back. ¡°Or¡ªI need to prove myself strong enough that one of the greater noble houses sees me as an asset worth marrying into their family.¡±

    All true, but there is more. Quinten thought. He wasn¡¯t sure what tipped him off, but something told him to push deeper.

    ¡°All great reasons, Izzy. But they aren¡¯t why you are asking. If you don¡¯t want to tell me, that¡¯s fine.¡± He said, reaching over and pulling the door open halfway. The cooler air sweeping into the room, showcasing just how heated the space had become in their brief exchange.

    Her face scrunched in frustration, but she raised a hand, sending a stream of wind to push the door shut. Sitting down on Quinten''s bed, she pulled one leg up and cradled it to her chest.

    ¡°I am already promised¡­ with my brothers to inherit, my father has betrothed me to a nearby Count in order to strengthen the family. I¡¯ve never met the man, but all that I¡¯ve been able to learn paints a wretched picture. If that were not enough, he is nearly three times my age and¡­ I would be his fifth wife.¡± She said with a shudder.

    ¡°If¡ªand I know it¡¯s a big if, I can prove myself here at the academy, or were that to fail, during my service in the Mage Core. It could be enough to convince my father that I am more valuable than the broodmare he has sold me off as.¡±

    ¡°Ahh.¡± Quinten said, the pieces falling into place. ¡°The ramifications of breaking such an agreement would not be a small thing. You would have to do something truly remarkable to make it worth the risk.¡±

    ¡°Like being trained by the future Archmage?¡± She asked with a smirk, her tone rueful.

    Quinten gave her a small grin in return. ¡°No, thank you. I¡¯m serving my time and staying as far away from Gremelda as I can.¡± Tapping his fingers in a rhythm along his bicep, he thought over what she¡¯d said.

    ¡°Is Helena going to train too?¡± Came Cedric''s voice through the thin wall beside them.

    ¡°No,¡± Izzy said, her face twisting at either the question or the fact their conversation had been overheard. ¡°She¡¯s going to be a Healer, she doesn¡¯t want to fight.¡±

    A loud snort could be heard before a door banging off the wall rang out. A moment later, Quinten''s own swung open, revealing Cedric. The casts had been removed. His bruising now only showed as faint discoloration along his arms and face.

    ¡°Fat lot of good that did for Ronan this morning.¡± He said, causing Izzy to pale. She¡¯d likely forgotten the fact their friend planned on being a Healer as well.

    The memory of the older boy unconscious and at the mercy of the merciless made the decision for him. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. But he¡¯s right. Helena needs to learn, too. Convince her to join and we¡¯ll teach you to fight.¡±

    Her gratitude was overshadowed by Cedric¡¯s groan. ¡°What do you mean, we¡¯ll train them?¡± He said, dramatically falling on to the bed as Izzy hopped to her feet and out of the way.

    With a grin, Quinten said, ¡°You butt into a conversation. It means you¡¯re involved. That¡¯ll teach you to eavesdrop.¡±

    His voice was muffled, but Quinten was able to make out his complaint. ¡°But I didn¡¯t even use my Gift. These walls are just thin!¡±

    A light laugh escaped, and Izzy shook her head at their antics. Turning to Quinten, she said, ¡°I¡¯ll get Helena to agree. Thank you, Q.¡± Side-eyeing the child on the bed, she added. ¡°And you as well, Cedric. Can we start tomorrow?¡±

    Quinten nodded in answer, watching her exit. A noticeable bounce carrying her out of the room.

    ¡°You do realize that you likely can¡¯t save her, right?¡± Cedric asked, his voice much clearer for having turned his head.

    Quinten sighed, closing the door with his mind. Pressing his mouth into a thin line, he considered how best to explain. ¡°I understand that, but it¡¯s what my mother would do. I remember how she would lament hearing of recent engagements that were made for no other reason than political or financial gain.¡±

    Taking a seat at his desk. He pushed the chair back on to its rear legs and stared at the whitewashed ceiling. ¡°I know that¡¯s just how it¡¯s done, the idea of choosing your marriage based on love being nothing but a fantasy, but to have no say at all¡­?¡± Trailing off, he just shrugged.

    ¡°Why, Q. Who¡¯d have thought you were such a romantic?¡± Cedric said with a grin.

    Dropping the chair back on all four legs, he turned to his friend with a raised brow.

    ¡°And who was it asking Ronan for help with a stanza just last week? How is that poem for Celeste coming along?¡±

    Quinten ducked his airborne pillow as he scrambled from his chair. Laughing, he burst through the door and ran down the hall with Cedric in pursuit. Belting out in a sing-song voice, the only line he could remember.

    ¡°Her lips, the curve where roses dare to bloom, Hold summer¡¯s warmth and winter¡¯s sweet perfume.¡±

 B1C32 - Healing The Rift

    Capital City of Gremelda

    Royal Palace Great Hall

    The grand wooden doors of the Great Hall creaked open, revealing a room bathed in the warm glow of chandeliers suspended high above. Each one twinkled with warm crystal light, casting a golden hue over the polished marble floor. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries depicting the history of the kingdom and its renowned mages, their embroidered figures seeming to come alive in the flickering light.

    The room buzzed with conversation as the nobility gathered for the evening¡¯s event. The powerful and influential of the kingdom, as well as the parents of all current academy students were in attendance.

    King Frederick Kingston stood atop the raised dais, a commanding presence, while Queen Clarissa sipped delicately from her crystal goblet beside him. His eyes surveyed the room, watching the nobles of the realm exchanged pleasantries.

    In the past, this event was held each year for a variety of reasons, most in the vein of marriage negotiations or family alliances. There were some things that could only be hammered out face to face. Ever since the discovery, and halting of a potential coup, King Frederick had taken to sitting back and observing the game of courtly politics going on below, rather than partaking himself. An activity he now left to the queen, being far more skilled than he in its play.

    Polite conversation died away as the king cleared his throat, drawing everyone¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen.¡± The king began, his deep voice carrying throughout the room without aid, its construction intended for the purpose. ¡°We gather here each year to meet with the parents of our future Core. The mages in which we depend on for our kingdom¡¯s stability and strength. To light a path forward for them, the realm, and to ensure our continued prosperity. Take tonight¡¯s event for what it is, an opportunity to make connections¡ªboth personal and professional¡ªfor your families and, most importantly, your children.¡±

    Raising his glass, the king toasted, ¡°To the Gifts of Rivenna!¡±

    ¡°Gifts of Rivenna!¡± The crowd returned in kind. Reforming their small clusters of conversation in excited chatter.

    Queen Clarissa glided down from the dais, parting the people before her like a dolphin¡¯s fin splitting the ocean¡¯s surface. Vibrant gowns and elaborately stitched surcoats fluttering in the breeze as they made way with bows and curtsies.

    She waded into one specific group, catching Duchess Adelaide¡¯s addition to the conversation. "With so many of our own children reaching the age of majority in the next few years, and so few eligible young men of quality at the academy¡ªI imagine we will all be watching this year¡¯s ball with great interest."

    Duchess Helena offered a small smile, though there was a flicker of tension in her eyes as they darted to the queen. "Indeed. Eighteen young men and nearly seventy-five young women... There can be no doubt that the competition will be fierce."

    Smiling, Duke Wyndham met the queen''s gaze with a polite bow, the group offering their own respects. ¡°Good evening, your majesty. It¡¯s a pleasure to have you join us.¡±

    ¡°The pleasure is mine,¡± the queen said, returning the man¡¯s fake smile.

    He only wears that one in particular when he has something planned for his enjoyment, she thought, taking in his countenance and the slight flush to his cheeks. A little early on the drink perhaps, but he appears to be quite smart with himself.

    ¡°My queen, if you would be so kind¡­ Were there not a few unsavory types invited to tonight''s event?¡± He led with a pointed glance.

    Turning in the direction he indicated, Clarissa realized what had him so excited.

    As if the royal family would make such a mistake. She kept her inner thoughts hidden behind a polite mask of curiosity.

    ¡°Ahhh,¡± she said, ¡°You mean¡­¡±

    *****

    ¡°I feel like chum in shark-infested waters,¡± Grumbled Ed as he and Nadine made their way through the thick crowd. His purple Council robes doing nothing to combat the sneers of derision being thrown their way by those they passed.

    Not like I couldn¡¯t set your fine silk on fire for looking at us like that, Ed thought, returning one man¡¯s overt glare in particular.

    ¡°We¡¯re not here for us, love. We¡¯re here for Quinten.¡± Nadine said, her grip on his arm tightening for an instant. In a softer voice that only he could hear, she added with a light chuckle. ¡°They act like this in public, but I have letters from half of these people making inquiry into Q as a marriage prospect.¡±

    Finding a pillar to take refuge beside, they stopped. With its small support at their backs, they were ready to face the hungry wolves of the court.

    Baroness Vaelmara materialized beside them as if appearing from behind a veil. Her pale blue gown of fine linen with white chiffon accents highlighted her deep blue eyes dramatically, eyes that locked on a passing server.

    ¡°Good evening, Elara. How has your night been?¡± Nadine asked as the other woman snagged a drink.

    ¡°Akin to swimming in a pit of vipers.¡± She said, throwing back half the contents of her glass. ¡°How long do you think we need to stay before it¡¯s appropriate to escape? I have already been asked about remarrying twice tonight.¡±

    A small smile tugged at Nadine¡¯s lips. ¡°What, they haven¡¯t asked after Cedric¡¯s health?¡±

    The return glare she received had Nadine covering a small smile.

    ¡°We are leaving as soon as the king makes an announcement. He did not share what it was regarding in his letter, but included it in the invitation as a reason to attend.¡± Ed answered. Scoffing, he continued, ¡°As if there were an excuse good enough to miss tonight.¡±

    ¡°Councilman Wycliffe, what a surprise. We haven¡¯t seen you at one of these in years.¡± Came a man¡¯s rich baritone. A voice that neither Ed nor Nadine would ever forget. The group nearest them scattering to the wind like a flock of frightened birds.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Duke Wyndham.¡± Ed greeted neutrally. The stiff nod acknowledging the man¡¯s rank, the only sign of his emotions.

    ¡°I take it you are here for your grandson. What a shock that must have been, discovering he is Gifted.¡± The warm and welcoming smile at odds with the warped sense of enjoyment Ed could see dancing behind the man¡¯s cold grey eyes.

    Lost for words, it was Nadine that answered, her voice composed and smooth as she said, ¡°It was unexpected, but we are very pleased with how the stars have aligned.¡±

    The Duke¡¯s smile widened. ¡°Yes, I bet that bit of unexpected news was much easier to receive.¡± Easier than what, he left unsaid.

    Ed tasted blood, biting his tongue as he stared at the arrogant prick before him in mute fury. Nadine¡¯s nails bit into his arm in warning, but he was past caring. To his great fortune, his attention was stolen by the pair joining the conversation.

    ¡°Councilman and Countess Wycliffe, thank you for attending.¡± Said the king, his voice loud enough to carry. His wife, the queen, smiling in greeting.

    ¡°Of course, your majesty. Thank you for including us,¡± Ed said with a bow, the others following suit.

    An easy smile spread across the king¡¯s face, ¡°With the Lord Marshal away protecting our borders, and the showing Mage Ashford has had at the Academy. We had to ensure someone of his talent was represented here tonight, do we not?¡± The pointed look that followed was a heavy contrast to his affable expression.

    Ed started to frown before he caught his slip, trying and failing to return the smile he said. ¡°Yes¡ªyour majesty¡­?¡± His answer coming out almost like a question.

    ¡°Yes¡ªyes. I¡¯m sure you are no doubt confused. Come, let me clear a few things up.¡±

    Turning on his heel, the king interlaced his arm with the queen¡¯s and escorted her away. With nothing else to do but follow, Nadine and Elara each took an arm as the trio walked past Duke Wyndham with a nod. A slight snub as he followed along in their wake.

    A large circle opened around the king and queen as they reached the heart of the Great Hall. Leading the queen through a graceful turn, the lights from the overhead crystals setting off the glittering stones at her ears, wrists, and neck.

    Ensuring all eyes were on the pair of royals, King Frederick stepped forward and addressed the expectant onlookers.

    ¡°In the effort to stop a coup and protect the royal family, a great wrong was unintentionally committed¡­¡± The king began.

    Ed felt it as the small hairs along the nape of his neck stood on end. Nadine going rigid beside him. Her nails were likely to have drawn blood if not for his robes, offering him modest protection.

    ¡°In my haste to protect those I love, a trial was held prematurely and with grave consequences. Over the proceeding years, we have exhausted not only the initial investigation but all of those branching from it. Those that were found implicit, have been dealt with. The innocents used as a smokescreen, have been cleared of all charges. All except one, the ones that have suffered the most, Earl Julian and Countess Katherine Ashford.¡°

    A murmur was quickly taken up by the crowd as the smarter, or more politically minded, put the pieces together. Their calculations and scheming taking off like a galloping horse as the king¡¯s announcement tossed years of work and alliances out of the window as the delicate ranking of potential suitors was thrown into chaos before the king had even finished speaking.

    Recognizing the building buzz as a timer until he fully lost the crowd''s attention, King Frederick continued, augmenting his voice to carry over that of the whispering nobles.

    ¡°The Ashford name has carried a dark stain in recent years. A falsity that I can finally correct. Their family has¡ªand continues to serve the realm with honor. Let it be known that from this day forward, Julian and Katherine Ashford will no longer bear the taint of traitor.¡±

    Conversations held in muted tones burst to full volume as the room exploded into a cacophony of sound. A heightened sense of urgency permeating the hall as Ed and Nadine were swarmed.

    Count Edmund¡¯s face remained stoic, as if transmitted to marble. His gaze wavering only once to take in the expression souring Duke Wyndham¡¯s countenance, before his eyes returned to the king.

    This does not absolve you of their deaths. Ed thought as the man raised a single brow and turned away. Ed¡¯s focused shifted to the queen, who watched him like a bird of prey waiting for the mouse to make its move.

    Shaking himself, Ed turned his attention back to his wife as she fended off the flood of conversation and well-wishes being heaped upon them. The shift jarring in comparison to the welcome they¡¯d received. A tug on his arm had him releasing his grip and allowing Elara to disappear, ghosting into the crowd.

    *****

    Elara slid between gaggles of finely dressed nobles. Their perfumes overlapping and blending together in a cacophony of smells that unsettled her stomach.

    She felt a momentary pang of regret for abandoning her friends to handle the pack of jackals set on them, but she knew there wasn¡¯t anything she could do to aid them in their current situation.

    Her approach was as graceful as it was strategic. Sliding into an open space beside her target, she spoke calmly and smoothly.

    ¡°Duchess Sutherland, Duchess Hastings, It is a pleasure.¡±

    With a slight jerk, Heidi Sutherland whipped her head around from where she¡¯d been in deep conversation with Merida Hastings.

    Both ladies exchanged a look before shifting slightly to allow her access. Something she gladly took, giving each a curtsy. With a warm smile to Duchess Merida, she asked. ¡°How are Ronan and Taylor fairing at the Academy? Cedric writes of them fondly.¡±

    ¡°They are well, thank you.¡± The woman¡¯s own smile came in layers.

    Based on how Cedric described the brother¡¯s relationship, that¡¯s not a surprise. Elara thought, feeling a momentary pang at the idea of siblings, something she¡¯d always wanted for Cedric but had been unable to provide. At least he has Q. A look at Merida and she added, And Ronan.

    Turning back to Heidi, she said. ¡°And, of course, with the ball so near, I expect the younger generation is abuzz with excitement. Your daughter, Lady Celeste, must be fit to bursting over it, I imagine?¡±

    Heidi smiled, though it was the kind of smile that didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes. ¡°Yes, Celeste is quite popular, especially with so few young men of suitable rank at the academy.¡±

    Elara¡¯s expression tightened with the dig, though her eyes sparkled with a keen edge. ¡°Indeed. With only eighteen young men, I¡¯m sure it¡¯s much different from when we went through the academy¡­¡± She let the words hang for a moment before continuing. ¡°Of course, we mothers must do what we can to ensure our children¡¯s futures, mustn¡¯t we?¡±

    Heidi inclined her head in agreement. ¡°Quite so, Baroness Vaelmara. And what of your Cedric? He¡¯s made quite an impression at the academy, has he not?¡±

    Elara¡¯s lips curled in a smile that hinted at quiet pride. ¡°Yes, Cedric is a strong contender in his studies. With he and Quinten skipping their entire first year, it has made him¡ªwell, rather popular in his own right as of late.¡±

    Heidi¡¯s eyes flickered with irritation. ¡°Indeed. Well, I do hope you are successful in finding him a suitable match.¡± In an obvious attempt to redirect the conversation, she continued. ¡°I must say, tonight was quite the turn of events for the Ashford boy.¡±

    Biting her tongue, Elara let the conversation flow where it may. Quietly excising herself from the group with little to no concern from the two Duchesses as they talked amongst themselves.

    Kneading her lower lip between her teeth, Elara took one last look over her shoulder before finding an exit.

    *****

    As more and more families approached the Wycliffes, it became clear that the Ashford family name was well and truly clear. Nadine handled the attention with poise, while Ed remained stoic beside her, content to let his wife field the endless stream of inquiries about their grandson however she saw fit.

    Across the room, King Frederick watched the gathering with a sharp eye, noting the shifting tides of interest, and the collapse of old agreements at the chance of greater opportunity. Beside him, Queen Clarissa leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Thank you for taking my advice, Frederick.¡±

    The King¡¯s lips curled slightly, though his eyes remained hard. ¡°It was the right move, my dear. Though, it won¡¯t repair the rift I created.¡± Absentmindedly popping his knuckles with his thumb, one by one. ¡°I just wish I¡¯d asked for your council when this all started. It would have saved years of trouble.¡±

    Patting his arm, the queen consoled him. ¡°It¡¯s done. Now, it¡¯s time to let them wear themselves out fighting amongst each other.¡±

 B1C33 - The Calm Before The Storm

    Breathe in

    Breathe out.

    Quinten sat submerged in the calm he¡¯d come to rely on over the last few weeks. Delving deeply into the meditation techniques that Instructor Burns had first shown them. The daily routine helped bank the fire in his gut over what¡¯d been done to his friends.

    The lack of punishment for anyone involved had irritated him for weeks before Burns pointed out that he hadn¡¯t received any reprisal from his abuse of Mental magic either, as justifiable as it may have been.

    Adding fuel to the flame, in a move that Quinten could only rationalize as pettiness. The headmistress managed her own form of retribution for his defiance. Assigning him to assist Instructor Highbridge for an hour every other day during his lessons with the first-years. He now had a front-row seat to the man¡¯s shameless flirting with his young students. The more he bore witness to, the harder it was for him to remain silent. He¡¯d already submitted one report of impropriety after asking Burns how to do it officially.

    Nothing had come of it so far.

    Breathe in

    Breathe out

    The balmy evening breeze helped cool the day¡¯s heat, radiating off the formed stone roof of the boy¡¯s dormitory. A place that¡¯d become a sanctuary away from all the noise and boys below. He wasn¡¯t the first person to seek refuge up there. The hand-holds he¡¯d found formed into the side of the building had been made for concealment, his own discovery a happy accident.

    Looking up at the night''s sky, he inhaled a deep breath, not in meditation, but in contemplation. The scent of sun-baked stone tickled his nose and the fluttering wings of what Quinten assumed to be a bat flew by overhead. The stars twinkling above, bearing witness to his restless thoughts.

    A few more months and we¡¯ll be done here, he thought. A light streaking across the black, catching his eye. He couldn¡¯t help wondering if the stars were agreeing with¡ªor warning him.

    *****

    ¡°You need to understand the differences between the elements you are manipulating. To be so familiar with them that the transition between each, and your ability to touch on those parts of your Gift become instinctual.¡± Quinten explained as he watched Izzy attempt to raise a pillar of earth with one hand and conjure fire in the other. Similar to what Delka had done in her duel with him, but he wanted Izzy to control both elements simultaneously. Her concentration wavered when the fire ignited, causing the pillar to collapse.

    He frowned as he watched her hands clench and unclench as she fought back her frustration.

    The academy taught that the ability to multi-cast elements was rare. Something Quinten had not expected after reading several books that detailed numerous mages being able to do so. It¡¯d come naturally to him, and he hadn¡¯t thought it much of an achievement at the time.

    How did I first manage it? Quinten asked himself. Thinking back to his early lessons with his grandparents, he had an idea.

    Beckoning Izzy to take a seat next to him. Quinten assumed the cross-legged position he used when meditating. She looked at him oddly but followed suit, arranging her legs the same position.

    ¡°Close your eyes and focus on your Gift. Which element do you connect with on the deepest level?¡±

    Her answer was immediate. ¡°Fire,¡± she said.

    Chuckling, he asked. ¡°Why does that not surprise me?¡±

    Izzy raised a sardonic eyebrow, her eyes still closed.

    ¡°Moving on,¡± Quinten said, the grin apparent in his voice. ¡°What do you feel when you touch on fire?¡±

    ¡°Warmth. I feel a surge of pleasant heat welling up from within my core, flowing down my hand like a stream of warm liquid. As the magic leaves me, there¡¯s a tingling sensation, almost like static jumping between fingertips.¡±

    ¡°And earth? How is it different?¡±

    Izzy bit her lip, eyes narrowing. ¡°Heaviness¡­? It starts as a buildup of pressure in my chest, as it increases, I feel more solid, grounded. Then it slides down my arms or legs like thick clay. Instead of the tingling, I go numb for a breath as the magic lingers.¡±

    ¡°Your connection and your ability to sense your Gift has improved immensely.¡± Quinten said, smiling.

    Her golden-brown eyes, like maple syrup swirled with fresh honey, captured his gaze, and the smell of warm spices from her preferred tea played across his tongue, robbing him of thought.

    ¡°I can¡¯t seem to get the transition between the two right. The pressure in my chest from controlling earth is too rigid, and the fire¡¯s warmth, too free. How do you balance it?¡±

    It took Quinten a moment to put her words in order and to form an actual question. His mind was distracted by the pout of her lips and the new style in which she wore her hair, intricately arranged in curls atop her head. Wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his robes, he answered. ¡°The way you connect with your Gift is a lot like my own. I rely on feeling and intention more than anything.¡± He scratched at the light stubble beginning to shadow his jaw. ¡°My grandfather, though, uses visualization for most of his magic.¡±

    Quinten paused, drumming his fingers on his knee and staring at nothing. ¡°Let¡¯s try something different. On your next attempt, visualize the pressure in your chest as a stone. When you conjure your flame, imagine that stone warming¡ªeither from the sun¡¯s heat or from deep within the earth. Play around with a few ideas, and we¡¯ll see which ones work best.¡±

    Rising to her feet, Izzy moved a safe distance away to test out his suggestion. She closed her eyes and raised her left hand, a fresh column of earth rising with it. Izzy took a shaky breath to let her control of the magic stabilize before holding up her other hand, a small fireball slowly forming above her open palm.

    A brilliant smile lit up her face while Quinten applauded, saying, ¡°That¡¯s it! Now, just get to the point where this comes naturally, and I might consider you worthy of being my apprentice.¡±

    Scowling, she opened her mouth to reply when Cedric interrupted. ¡°As cute as your flirting is¡ªis that supposed to be smoking?¡±

    The pair looked where he pointed and sure enough, Izzy¡¯s column of earth was turning black. Starting at its top, red veins of smoldering heat spread within, and smoke rose from where they broke to the surface.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    ¡°Well,¡± Quinten said, scratching his head. ¡°That¡¯s a new one.¡±

    *****

    ¡°Are you three excited for the Mid-Year Ball?¡± Helena asked, looking between Quinten, Ronan, and Cedric. Her eyes lingering on the latter, a hair longer than the others.

    Quinten sighed.

    An official courier letter from his grandparents arrived a few days prior. It detailed the King¡¯s declaration, clearing his parents and their family of treason. A note tucked inside, written in his grandmother¡¯s hand, warned him of the social changes he would likely see now that the label of traitor¡¯s son had been removed and familial pressures were applied.

    Quinten had already seen evidence of it in the attention he received. The news already traveling throughout the academy. No one had been brave enough to approach him directly, but Izzy had complained of several ladies cornering her and asking questions about him.

    ¡°Not particularly.¡± He admitted, to which Ronan nodded his agreement. Cedric hesitated to answer and Quinten knew why. He was still sneaking around with Celeste, and based on his friend''s complaints, she refused to have any serious conversations about the future.

    Eventually, he did respond to Helena¡¯s probing gaze.

    ¡°I am, actually,¡± he said. ¡°We have been avoiding it, but this is likely where we will meet at least one of our future wives. Regardless of if you like the new laws, the reality is that we will have to marry in the next few years.¡±

    Helena sat up straight at his words, and Quinten thought she even did a reasonable job controlling her expression as she stared at Cedric intently. Her hands giving her away as they clenched into fists where they rested on her thighs.

    ¡°Ooooh¡ªI love engagement talk! Do you already have someone in mind? Is it someone we know? Spill!¡± Helena asked, her words an off-beat mix of excitement and apprehension.

    Cedric¡¯s shoulders turned in, but he couldn¡¯t hide his blush. Shaking his head, he blurted. ¡°Nothing like that. No one my mother has started talks with at least.¡±

    Quinten and Ronan shared a grin at their friend¡¯s discomfort, knowing the hole he¡¯d just dug. They watched as he spent the next ten minutes evading the ladies¡¯ probes. Doing his best to make it out alive after denying the pair the hinted gossip.

    *****

    The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets as Quinten, Cedric, and Ronan made their way from the towering gates of the Mage Academy. The three young men walked casually, their steps relaxed as they navigated the bustling city toward their destination. It wasn¡¯t the first time they¡¯d left the academy since the year started, but their trips into the city proper had been few and far between.

    Ronan adjusted the strap of his bag, curiosity sparking in his eyes. ¡°You said Instructor Burns recommended this tailor? Did he say why?¡±

    Cedric grinned, just as excited as his friend. ¡°He did. This tailor and her family are all mages and they¡¯ve developed their gifts almost solely to work needle and thread. Apparently, If they hadn¡¯t, they wouldn¡¯t be able to keep up with demand.¡±

    His statement sparked a lively conversation between the trio over whether it was primarily a use of Mental, or some combination of Elemental or Transmutation magic that aided in their business.

    Quinten surveyed their surroundings warily, considering the last few weeks and the changes that had come with them he was feeling oddly vulnerable outside of the academy¡¯s thick walls.

    Which is just silly, he berated himself. We aren¡¯t going to get ambushed, and It¡¯s not like we don¡¯t have the ability to defend ourselves.

    Sighing, Quinten tuned back into his friend¡¯s discussion of the robes they wanted made for the Mid-Year Ball.

    ¡°I¡¯m going with a black, grey-toned theme with white accented stitching for design. It¡¯s going to pair perfectly with my dark, dashing good looks.¡± Cedric said.

    Quinten snorted, forcing some cheer into his voice. ¡°Well, if you have any of the fortune, you¡¯re likely to spend on robes left over. You can use it to pay Ronan to give you the dark, dashing good looks you need to complete the outfit.¡±

    Ronan laughed as Quinten skittered away from Cedric¡¯s retaliatory swipe.

    They turned the corner, and the street opened into a quieter part of town. Ornate shop signs hung above doorways, and the air was filled with the faint scent of leather, ink, and fresh parchment. The shop they sought was tucked away between a jeweler¡¯s and a scribe¡¯s workshop, its sign elegantly carved with the name "Callen¡¯s Atelier."

    The display window showcased a series of robes in varying shades, each embroidered with intricate patterns that shimmered as though alive with magic.

    "Well," Cedric said, pushing the door open, "let¡¯s see what all the fuss is about."

    A small bell tinkled as they walked inside. The interior was even more impressive. The walls were lined with bolts of fabric in every color imaginable. A faint, pleasant scent¡ªsomething like lavender and freshly pressed linen, mixed with the undeniable hum of magic in the room.

    Behind a polished mahogany counter stood a woman of late age, her silver hair pulled back into a sleek bun. Her sharp, discerning eyes took in the three young men with a single, sweeping glance, sizing up their needs without resorting to words. She wore a long, elegantly simple robe, the fabric rippling faintly as though it were woven with magic itself.

    ¡°Welcome to Callen¡¯s Atelier,¡± she greeted them, her voice smooth and clear. ¡°I am Mistress Callen, and you three must be the ones Instructor Burns sent my way.¡±

    Her tone was polite but commanding, and it was clear she ran this establishment with the precision of a true artisan.

    ¡°We are.¡± Cedric said. Casting his gaze around the beautifully arranged shop, he continued. ¡°We can¡¯t wait to see what robes from the finest seamstress in the city will look like.¡±

    Mistress Callen¡¯s lips curved upward slightly. "Flattery will get you nowhere, young man. The only reason I even agreed to meet with you three is because Burns requested it. There are advantages to being family.¡± She said the last with a wink.

    Cedric, frowning, asked, ¡°Wait, Instructor Burns¡ª¡± before he was cut off by Quinten''s own question, ¡°Family? You¡¯re related?¡±

    A door at the back of the shop that Quinten had not noticed opened. The faint sounds coming from within indicating the workshop beyond. Through the open door walked a younger version of Mistress Callen but with dark curly hair and warm welcoming brown eyes.

    ¡°Yes, Buefie is my husband.¡± She said with a Cheshire grin, her eyes twinkling as she surveyed the three.

    ¡°Buefie¡ªBuford! Stars above, you¡¯re his second wife!¡± Cedric blurted before clapping a hand over his mouth in horror.

    Quinten jabbed his friend in the back with augmented fingers for his idiocy but Burns¡¯ wife just laughed, ¡°It¡¯s alright. I am Lara. Adrian¡¯s second wife.¡± She said with a pointed look at Cedric who had the decency to blush in shame. ¡°He said you would be coming by today.¡±

    Ronan shifted to the front, hoping to move past his friend¡¯s misstep, saying, ¡°We¡¯re looking for robes for the upcoming Mid-Year Ball. Something that will stand out, but also be¡­ functional.¡±

    Mistress Callen nodded, coming out from behind the counter to circle them slowly. "Yes, yes. Robes for a ball full of nobles, mage instructors, and no doubt a great many interested eyes." Her gaze flicked knowingly toward Quinten. ¡°I hear each of you will be getting quite a bit of attention, particularly you, Lord Ashford."

    Quinten blinked, caught unaware by the comment. He shouldn¡¯t have been surprised that the highly respected tailor would hear. The court¡¯s gossip spread like wildfire. He nodded politely, saying only, ¡°Word travels quickly.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, it does,¡± Mistress Callen replied, her eyes glinting. "But rest assured, my concern is what you wear, not your current standing at court."

    Cedric laughed, breaking the tension. "I¡¯m sure Q would rather talk fabric than court politics right now anyway.¡±

    Lara came around the counter walking around each in a circle, ¡°Let¡¯s discuss your preferences. I am sure you all have ideas.¡±

    Cedric didn¡¯t hesitate. "Black and grey tones with white stitching. Something that makes me look... well, you know."

    "Like a dashing nobleman ready to make an impression?" Lara quipped, one eyebrow raised.

    Grinning, Cedric nodded. "Exactly."

    ¡°What were you thinking, Lord Hastings?¡±

    Ronan shrugged, though his eyes lingered on the simpler fabrics. "Something functional. I don¡¯t need to stand out, but I want to feel comfortable... and ready for anything."

    Lara tilted her head thoughtfully, her fingers tapping lightly against her measuring tape. "Understated, but strong. I believe I have just the thing, it will go perfect with your auburn hair.¡±

    "And you, Lord Ashford?" she asked, turning her attention to Quinten. ¡°Something understated, I presume?¡±

    Quinten glanced at the rich fabrics displayed along the walls, their colors shifting with the light. Lara would have been correct a few weeks prior, but recent events had caused him to feel some sort of way.

    Shaking his head, Quinten answered, ¡°Midnight veil.¡±

    His request was met with several pairs of raised eyebrows, from both his friends and the seamstresses.

    ¡°The flower? All black and gold?¡± Mistress Callen repeated in a flat tone.

    ¡°Black, dark as night and gold, bright as sunlight.¡± He repeated the saying, a favorite of his mother¡¯s.

    A slow grin spread across the older woman¡¯s face. ¡°Oh yes. I can work with that.¡±

 B1C34 - The Mid-Year Ball Pt.1

    The Mage Academy buzzed with frenetic energy as the day of the Mid-Year Ball dawned. Normally a place of structured routines and intense study, today it was an entirely different atmosphere. Everywhere, students and staff rushed about in a barely contained whirlwind of activity, preparing for the grand event that would soon transform the campus into a glittering stage for the kingdom¡¯s elite.

    The Proving Grounds¡ªtypically reserved for official duels and practical examinations¡ªwas unrecognizable. What had once been a vast expanse of dirt, stone, and grass now shimmered beneath layers of polished marble, glittering gems, and glowing crystals. Teams of mages worked tirelessly, their hands weaving through the air as they transformed the space into a high-tier ballroom. Massive canopies of translucent fabric hung above, shifting in the light as though made of mist and moonlight, shielding the grounds from the elements. Chandeliers, each crafted from enchanted crystal, floated high above, their soft glow growing brighter as the sun lowered in the sky.

    As the grounds were prepared, servants from noble houses arrived in carriages, bearing crates of supplies: fine foods, wines, and decorations. The kitchen staff, typically responsible for feeding hungry students, were now under immense pressure to create extravagant dishes for the guests. The scent of roasting meats and fresh pastries wafted through the open courtyards, carrying on the breeze along with the sound of clinking dishes and hurried footsteps.

    Across the Academy¡¯s campus, students scrambled. Some gathered in dormitories, nervously practicing their etiquette or going over last-minute details of their attire. Others whispered excitedly about the guests soon to arrive. The royal family, Duke Wyndham, Duchess Sutherland, Duke Hastings, and other powerful figures would all be present¡ªan opportunity for the students to make connections that could shape their futures.

    Standing near the entrance, Quinten, Cedric, and Ronan watched the chaos unfold.

    ¡°Never thought the Proving Grounds would look like this,¡± Quinten muttered, his eyes fixed on the enchanted chandeliers as they floated gracefully overhead.

    Cedric smirked. ¡°Let¡¯s hope they didn¡¯t use the same spell they use for testing. I¡¯d hate to fight a marble golem.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve gone all out for this year¡¯s event. The ball from last year wasn¡¯t nearly this extravagant. I bet it has something to do with the fact so many children of the upper ranked nobility are currently enrolled.¡± Ronan commented. His eyes riveted on a servant, a little older than them, bent over adjusting a table cloth.

    ¡°Down boy, there is plenty of time to find him during the ball.¡± Remarked Cedric with a grin. Earning a blush from his friend as he hurriedly looked away.

    Quinten let out a quiet chuckle, but his mind was elsewhere. Around him, the academy staff continued their preparations¡ªmagically dusting every surface, polishing the stone walkways, and ensuring every flower in the enchanted garden bloomed perfectly on cue.

    As the sun continued to set, casting a golden hue to the night¡¯s background, Quinten could feel it. The very air crackling with anticipation. The guests would arrive, and the Mid-Year Ball would commence. His gut telling him that tonight had a potential for spectacle unlike any other.

    *****

    His attire for the evening flowing with every step, the golden glint of his over-robe catching the light and casting a warm, radiant glow around him. The black under-robes, accented in gold that shimmered like the stars above, gave him an air of quiet elegance. Cedric and Ronan, equally well-equipped in their custom-made dress, looked every bit the young mages, fit to make an impression on the kingdom¡¯s most powerful.

    As they neared the dormitory where Izzy and Helena were preparing, Cedric turned to Quinten with a sly grin. ¡°Try not to drool when you see the ladies in their best. It¡¯s unbecoming.¡±

    Quinten smirked but said nothing, recognizing Cedric¡¯s attempt to keep things light. Still, the weight of the evening pressed on him as well. The ball felt much the same as his first taste of battle on the western plains, except now, instead of fighting from horseback, he would be navigating a theater of masks.

    The sight of Izzy and Helena exiting the crystal embedded entrance of their dormitory, purposely lit for the night, momentarily silenced the boys, giving real weight to Cedric¡¯s earlier joke. With even Ronan, quietly appreciating the effort the two had put into preparing for the evening.

    Quinten froze, watching Izzy, vibrant in deep green with gold embroidery and studded gems, gracefully descend the stairs. Meeting Quinten''s gaze with a playful grin and a knowing look. The blood pounded in his ears as he felt them grow warm, unable to keep a lopsided smile from twisting his lips.

    Helena, in a soft lavender gown with silver accents. Wore a dazzling smile highlighted by her lip stain, basked in the attention she received from Cedric. While their gowns and accessories were beautiful, it was the care they put into the smallest of details that brought their outfits to perfection.

    ¡°Well done, boys,¡± Izzy teased. ¡°You have all managed to clean up rather nicely.¡±

    Cedric offered a mock bow, flashing a grin. ¡°Only the best for such a grand occasion.¡±

    ¡°Shall we?¡± Asked Quinten with a half-bow of his own. Holding his arm out, Izzy sidled up beside him. She reached out a hand and Quinten felt her delicately gloved fingers trace along his forearm as they entwined. Allowing him to escort her away from the dorms and toward one of the kingdom''s most prestigious events of the year.

    The sun was just beginning to make way for the moon and stars as their group entered what had become a grand ballroom. The distant hum of conversation and music drifting through the air, growing louder with each step they took. As they reached the entrance, two guards in ceremonial armor bowed slightly and pulled open the massive, gilded doors, revealing the ballroom in all its splendor.

    The transformation was breathtaking.

    The Proving Grounds had been fully converted into a masterpiece of elegance. Gleaming marble floors reflected the floating crystal chandeliers above. Their soft light cascading in intricate patterns over the ballroom. Ornate tapestries lined the walls. And the scent of blooming flowers and fresh linens filled the air. Noblemen and women, dressed in their finest, moved gracefully around the room, their laughter mingled with the soft strings of the orchestra playing in the corner.

    Ronan let out a low whistle. ¡°They really pulled out all the stops this time.¡±

    As they stepped further into the ballroom, Cedric suddenly stopped. His attention caught by something, or rather someone, across the room. His eyes widened, and he stood frozen in place, completely captivated.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Quinten followed his gaze, seeing Celeste. The sky-blue gown she wore, adorned with delicate silver embroidery, shimmered in the candlelight. Her golden curls framed her face in soft waves before twisting in an intricate braid upwards.

    Even he had to admit that she looked ethereal, the very image of grace and beauty. Her gown complementing her pale complexion and moonlit locks as if the stars themselves had chosen the design.

    Cedric¡¯s breath hitched. His usual quick wit apparently abandoning him.

    Izzy, noticing his reaction, nudged Quinten with a pained expression, eying Helena from the side. ¡°Surely those two aren¡¯t¡­?¡±

    Quinten''s mouth formed into a small line, giving her the barest of nods.

    Unaware of their byplay, Ronan reached Cedric¡¯s side, giving him a teasing nudge. ¡°Down boy, you¡¯ll get to see her later.¡± Happy with an opportunity to return his friend¡¯s words from earlier.

    Trumpet fanfares filled the grand space, silencing the chatter. Three loud thuds echoing as the doors at the far end of the room swung open.

    The herald stepped through first, his voice carrying over the crowd as he announced the arrival of the guests of honor. All eyes turned toward the grand entrance as the Royal Family made their arrival.

    King Frederick Kingston, tall and imposing in his ceremonial robes, accompanied by Queen Clarissa, embodying grace and elegance in her gown of deep royal purple, adorned with delicate silver embroidery that shimmered with magic in the candle light. At their side, the crown prince and their daughters, Princess Roslyn and Princess Gwendolyn, both a statement of fashion in their contrasting silver and gold gowns.

    Quinten was fighting the urge to peer over the heads of those in front of him when Cedric elbowed him, whispering, ¡°When you asked to dress in gold, I didn¡¯t think it was to match a princess.¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡± Hissed Quinten as several nearby eyes turned in their direction. None of them wearing an emerald dress to his great relief.

    The crowd dipped into respectful bows and curtsies as the Royals took their places at the head of the ballroom. The king raised his hand for silence, and a hush fell over the room as he stepped forward to address the gathering.

    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed nobles, students of the Academy,¡± King Frederick began, his voice reverberating throughout the room. ¡°It is with great honor that we join you tonight for the Mid-Year Ball, an event that celebrates not only the education of our kingdom¡¯s greatest assets, but fosters the bonds that allow the magic of Rivenna to continue flowing into the next generation.¡± He paused, scanning the room. ¡°You, young men and women who stand tall before us, represent the next leaders, scholars, and great mages that will guide our kingdom into a prosperous future.¡±

    Smiling warmly, the king continued, ¡°Tonight, let us celebrate not just the grand traditions of the past, but the promise of tomorrow. May this evening be a time for celebrating your hard work and recognizing the strength and potential that lies within each of you.¡±

    Applause filled the room as the king nodded, stepping back to join his family. The crowd remained attentive as Headmistress Moonscar, moved into the vacated space.

    Her silver hair, swept back elegantly, set off her dark red robes, embroidered with intricate symbols that glowed a faint white. When she spoke, her voice quieted even the whispers at the back of the room.

    ¡°Your Majesties, honored guests, and students of the Academy,¡± she began, her tone formal. ¡°It is my privilege to stand before you this evening and share my pride in the exceptional group of students we have with us this year. The strength of their magic and the depth of their learning have been remarkable. This year¡¯s classes, both first and second-years, have shown a mastery of their Gifts that surpasses the highest of expectations we set for our graduates.¡±

    The Headmistress¡¯s gaze swept across the room before she continued. ¡°As we move forward tonight, let this be a reminder that while tonight is a celebration, it is also an opportunity to reflect on your responsibilities. The Gifts you wield are powerful, and with that power comes the duty to serve your realm to the best of your abilities.¡±

    She stepped back, offering a slight bow to the Royals. ¡°May this evening be one of joy, and may the future shine brightly upon all who stand here tonight.¡±

    The crowd erupted into applause once more, the air crackling with anticipation as the speeches came to a close.

    The Mid-Year Ball was officially underway.

    *****

    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s possible for them to give a speech that doesn¡¯t try to subtly remind us of our obligations to have mage babies?¡± Cedric asked, partially serious.

    Helena turned a truly impressive shade of red, and even Izzy¡¯s coloring darkened along her cheeks at the joke.

    Shaking his head, Quinten saw Ronan¡¯s smile falter as he peered around them. Following his friend''s gaze, he saw Taylor Hastings standing beside an older couple that Quinten could tell on sight were their parents, the Duke and Duchess.

    Reaching over, Quinten placed a hand on Ronan¡¯s shoulder for support. Being caught off guard when the older boy shook it off violently before stepping away. He returned Quinten''s puzzled gaze with an apologetic one of his own. Their interaction seeming to go unnoticed by the rest of the group.

    With his eyes still on his friend in concern, Quinten watched Ronan¡¯s body stiffen. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and saw the reason for it. The trio headed in their direction with Taylor in the lead, a smile with too many teeth spread across his face.

    ¡°Ronan.¡± The Duchess said with warmth, taking his hand for a brief moment until the Duke cleared his throat, making her release her grasp. Pain flashing through her expression for only a moment, being hidden behind the mask of a Duchess.

    ¡°Son.¡±

    ¡°Father¡±

    The Duke surveyed the five of them, his eyes lingering on the ladies until they returned to Ronan.

    ¡°I hope you¡¯ve filled your dance card with more than just these two young ladies.¡± The man said, skipping introductions.

    Ronan grit his teeth, the back of his neck turning red in either anger or embarrassment, Quinten wasn¡¯t sure.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Father. I seem to have lost it. I doubt you will see me dancing with anyone tonight.¡±

    Quinten noticed the glee lighting up Taylor¡¯s expression from where he stood behind his parents and couldn¡¯t resist. ¡°Mage Hastings, I¡¯m surprised to see you aren¡¯t wearing brown tonight. After using it so effectively to decorate your room, I thought you¡¯d found your color.¡±

    Ronan¡¯s brother lost the smirk, his face turning mottled with his glare. But Quinten saw the corner of the Duke¡¯s mouth twitch minutely, giving Quinten a once over.

    So, he has a sense of humor, Quinten thought. He just can¡¯t get over the fact that his son prefers men.

    ¡°Brown is no one¡¯s color, dear.¡± The Duchess interjected, giving their group an inspection of her own. ¡°You must be Quinten, making you¡ªCedric. I met your mother only a few weeks ago. Please tell her hello from me the next time you write.¡±

    Bowing, Cedric winced slightly at the reminder. ¡°Yes, my Lady. It would be my pleasure. She mentioned meeting you as well.¡±

    While that conversation was taking place, the Duke leaned toward Ronan and began to speak quietly. Quinten, not wanting to alert the man to his eavesdropping, was forced to rely on just his augmented hearing.

    ¡°We¡¯ve discussed this, Ronan¡ªmy heir, but¡ªneed to¡ªor that will change.¡±

    Even with the boost, he was unable to hear the whole conversation. What words he could piece together were filled with frustration.

    Seeing his friend¡¯s shoulders slump, Quinten made a mental note to ask about it later.

    *****

    ¡°Which one do you think he is?¡± Whispered Princess Gwendolyn, standing on the tips of her toes, hoping to see more of the ballroom.

    Flicking open her tortoiseshell and lace fan, she covered her mouth as she spoke. ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Princess Roslyn admitted, fanning herself. ¡°There are a few young men that I don¡¯t recognize and I must say, this year¡¯s stock is much better than last year.¡± A vulpine grin tugging at her lips as a complimentary flush filled her sister¡¯s cheeks.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Rose. Owen was in that year.¡± She protested.

    Sighing, Roslyn fought to not roll her eyes, having been reminded on more than one occasion that it was unseemly for a Princess. Instead, she said, ¡°Yes, you only mentioned your crush a hundred times since then.¡±

    The blush that¡¯d begun to fade came back with a vengeance. It paired well with the gold of her gown and the ribbons in her hair like that of a setting sun.

    ¡°I overheard Duchess Hastings mention he was friends with her son.¡± Gwen said, not commenting on her sister¡¯s mention of a crush.

    Rose¡¯s nose scrunched at that bit of information. ¡°The heir or the younger one?¡±

    ¡°The heir, I believe.¡±

    Nodding, Rose let her eyes scan those around them. ¡°At least we know where to start. Let¡¯s just hope he¡¯s not as large a push-over as the skinny healer.¡±

 B1C35 - Mid-Year Ball Pt. 2

    "Would you care to dance, Mage Ashford?"

    Quinten turned to see a young woman in a partial curtsy before him. Her long auburn hair, swept up into an intricate style, and her gown¡ªa deep sapphire blue¡ªsparkled faintly under the crystal light. She offered him a polite, composed smile, her pale green eyes sharing nothing but a hinted curiosity.

    It took him a moment, but he recognized her as the water mage who had captivated their Elemental class on the first day so many months before. Quinten''s curiosity was piqued by her confidence, wondering if his rapid advancement out of the first-year class was why they''d never spoken.

    Straightening, he inclined his head and replied, ¡°Of course,¡± before taking her extended hand.

    As they stepped onto the dance floor, the music shifted into the clear ringing tones of a waltz. Quinten''s hand found her waist, his other taking a light grip on her outstretched hand. They began to move in sync with the music, the world around them blurring as they joined the sea of dancers, their polished shoes flashing and colorful skirts whirling around the floor in a large ring.

    Court etiquette had changed with the King¡¯s Edicts. Where previously, male mages could, at their leisure, approach and request a dance. They were now in such high demand that was no longer an option. There was always a next dance partner waiting in the wings. The pecking order, a complex series of maneuvering that¡¯d made Quinten''s head spin when his etiquette teacher had tried to explain the nuances to him at County Wycliffe.

    I really enjoyed learning the steps, though. Quinten thought, thankful his instructor had emphasized the importance of being confident in their performance.

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem the type to enjoy these kinds of events,¡± his partner said, breaking the silence, her tone playful but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

    Quinten chuckled, raising an eyebrow. ¡°What makes you say that? I haven¡¯t stepped on your toes, have I?¡±

    Smiling warmly, she shook her head. ¡°No, your dancing is beyond reproach.¡± Peering at him from the corner of her eye throughout a complex turn, she added, ¡°I remember you from our first week of class. Before you became persona non grata. You didn¡¯t interact with the other students or instructors. And I¡¯ve watched you around the Academy. You keep to your friends and away from the little games others like to play.¡±

    He gave her an assessing look, having underestimated how easy he was to read. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong. Though, it would be fairly hard to avoid this event. It wasn¡¯t exactly optional to attend.¡±

    ¡°Uh huh,¡± she said, looking at his fine robes with their gold accents through narrowed eyes. ¡°Nearly dragged you here in chains, didn¡¯t they?¡±

    He couldn¡¯t contain his bark of laughter at her dry tone or how accurately she¡¯d called him out.

    She was clearly no stranger to the art of wordplay their world required. The dance, the ball, everything was layered with subtext, doublespeak, and hidden motives.

    I¡¯d rather someone come at me with a sword than a sharp tongue, he thought. Getting the distinct impression that he would lose a duel of words against the young lady with laughter in her eyes.

    ¡°I suppose that depends on perspective. Who¡¯s to say these aren¡¯t chains of gold?¡± Quinten replied after a beat. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I must ask a rude question¡ªto whom do I owe this dance? I apologize. I remember your Gift with water, but I don¡¯t recall your name.¡±

    Her lips curved into a faint smile. ¡°Mage Arita Beaumont,¡± she said, offering him a somewhat distracting dip of her shoulders in a feigned curtsy. ¡°My family¡¯s lands are on the eastern side of the kingdom, along the coast.¡±

    Quinten nodded, returning her movements with a well-timed dip. Placing a kiss to her gloved hand as a formal greeting in their recovery. ¡°That would explain your affinity with water. I for one, was truly impressed by your connection with the element.¡± His compliment bringing an appealing blush to her pale cheeks, hiding their light dusting of freckles.

    The two continued to dance in silence, just enjoying the graceful steps of the other. Quinten couldn¡¯t help but to appreciate her flowing grace, like a stream slipping over polished stones smoothed by nature.

    For a few long moments, they were lost in their own little world, broken by Mage Beaumont¡¯s question, ¡°Have you put much thought in to who you will wed as part of your duty to the crown?¡±

    Unable to hold back an unbecoming snort, Quinten coughed to clear his throat before answering. ¡°Duty to the crown. That is one way to phrase it. It makes you wonder what the Mid-Year Ball is really for.¡±

    An auburn brow rose as she gazed up at him. ¡°The Gentry would never be so bold as to hold an entire event to give interested parties the access and opportunity to facilitate future marriages.¡±

    Quinten grinned at her response, the truth of her words playing out in vivid detail around them. As they twirled across the dance floor, the couples surrounding them painted a picture of the societal changes over the last few years. Young women in luxurious gowns took the lead, engaging in animated conversations with the men they danced with, their expressions a mixture of determination and hope.

    Directly to their right, a lady no older than twenty twirled her partner¡ªan awkward young man Quinten recognized from the first-year class¡ªin a series of spins, demonstrating her own talent. Quinten could almost feel the pressure she exerted on the poor boy, trying to secure his attention with each turn.

    Mage Beaumont¡¯s voice brought Quinten back to his partner. ¡°It¡¯s fascinating, isn¡¯t it? I sometimes think about all that¡¯s changed and wonder if I haven¡¯t been transported to an entirely new world.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Quinten smirked. ¡°Fascinating might not be the word I¡¯d use, but we do live in odd times. Growing up¡ªI never expected to be anywhere near the Academy.¡±

    She chuckled softly, her green eyes flashing with¡ªsomething. ¡°The norm-born man,¡± she said. ¡°I can imagine.¡±

    Her hand flexed in his own. A privacy barrier of air springing up around them, catching Quinten, and those close enough to feel the displaced air, off guard. Peering at him with an intensity that further set him back on his heels, she said. ¡°You may not have planned to, or even wanted to, attend the Academy, but here you are. And everyone in this ballroom knows exactly why they¡¯ve come. Yourself included, Lord Ashford.¡±

    Quinten raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. ¡°Oh? And why do you think I¡¯m here?¡±

    She tilted her head, a thoughtful crease appearing on her brow. ¡°No matter how much you try to distance yourself from it, you are still part of the game. Your name, your title, the restoration of your family''s honor¡ªit makes you a target, whether you like it or not.¡±

    Quinten''s expression hardened briefly at the mention of his family¡¯s reinstatement. While others saw it as a victory, he viewed it as a hollow gesture. His parents were gone, lost to a system that cared for nothing in its path. A sentiment he couldn¡¯t voice. Instead, he maintained a neutral expression, his eyes fixed on Mage Beaumont¡¯s.

    ¡°And what makes you think I have any interest in playing?¡± he asked, his voice low.

    Her smile softened, though her eyes remained hard. ¡°You may not care for it, Lord Ashford, but fending off the machinations of others is a fact of noble life. Avoiding them doesn¡¯t make them disappear. They¡¯ll draw you in eventually, just as they did your father. Whether you navigate them, or are pulled under, depends entirely on how willing you are to do what is necessary.¡±

    Quinten''s jaw tightened at the mention of his father, but he held his composure. The music swelled around them as her words hung heavy in the air between them. The song began to wind down, and he led her through their final steps. As the music came to a close, they stopped in the center of the floor. Mage Beaumont releasing his hand and giving him a graceful curtsy.

    ¡°Thank you for the dance, Lord Ashford. It has been¡­ enlightening. You are not what I was expecting.¡±

    He offered a small bow in return, his eyes never leaving hers. ¡°Likewise, Mage Beaumont.¡±

    *****

    Thank the stars I let Q talk me into practicing all of these dances, Cedric thought, guiding Celeste across the floor, their movements perfectly timed as they navigated the intricate steps of the polka. He flashed her one of his trademark grins, his dark eyes sparkling under the soft glow of the enchanted chandeliers.

    ¡°You look absolutely stunning tonight, Celeste,¡± he said, his voice low but clear enough to be heard over the music. ¡°I¡¯d even say the stars have a right to be jealous of your shine.¡±

    Celeste, her sky-blue gown flowing with each graceful step, returned his compliment with a smile. Her golden curls, perfectly arranged, bounced lightly as she tilted her head to meet his gaze. "You flatter me, Cedric," she replied with a soft laugh, her blue eyes gleaming in the dim light.

    Cedric spun her effortlessly through the two-four time steps, marveling at how naturally she moved with him. ¡°There is something we need to discuss,¡± he said, as they slowed into the next turn.

    Celeste sighed, likely having an idea of where this was going.

    ¡°Our mothers met and spoke a few weeks ago at court.¡±

    Her posture stiffened as her eyes locked on his, going wide. ¡°And what exactly did they talk about?¡±

    Cedric frowned at her reaction. ¡°You and I, what else? But that brings me to my point. Your mother made it very clear that she wished me luck in finding a match suitable for my standing.¡±

    His eyes bore into Celeste¡¯s as he waited for her response. He had never hidden his desire to wed. She had been the aloof one in their relationship.

    In a rare moment of visible discomfort, Celeste leaned in and said in a hushed voice, ¡°Is this really the time to be having this conversation?¡±

    Stiffening, he fought down a flood of irritation at her dismissal. ¡°Seeing as you change the subject every time that I try to talk about us, yes. This seems like the only time we can have it.¡±

    With another sigh, she acquiesced, ¡°Fine, what exactly is bothering you?¡±

    ¡°To start, the fact that the woman I have been seeing for months has made no mention of us being together to her family.¡±

    Celeste raised her chin high and stated with an air of superiority, ¡°I enjoy our time together, Cedric. But this is a complicated matter. I have responsibilities as a Duke''s daughter that you do not understand.¡±

    Her words beat against the wall of affection she¡¯d built around his heart. Their tone, one she¡¯d never taken with him before, cracking the mortar and taking great chunks out of its surface.

    The dance drew to an end and, without a word, Cedric escorted Celeste back to her group of friends. Each lady dressed to impress in their sparkling jewels and vibrant gowns.

    Stopping just shy of their destination, he could contain it no longer.

    ¡°I am not an idiot, Celeste. Do not treat me like one. I understand the differences between our stations.¡± She opened her mouth to respond, but his glare had her snapping it shut with a huff. ¡±I also know your opinion carries weight with your father, and I have seen no evidence of that effort being made.¡±

    This time, when she made to reply, it was not his voice that interrupted her.

    ¡°I believe that would be rather pointless¡ªnow.¡±

    The two turned to see that Oliver Wyndham, previously hidden amongst Celeste¡¯s friends, was now walking over with the ladies following along in his wake. That same creepy smile appearing on Oliver¡¯s face as he approached.

    ¡°What?¡± Asked Cedric, a fist of dread squeezing his gut.

    Ignoring Cedric, Oliver turned to Celeste and offered her a bow. ¡°Good evening, Mage Sutherland. You are looking beautiful tonight.¡±

    She returned a comparable curtsy and said, ¡°Thank you, Mage Wyndham. You look well put together in your formal attire.¡±

    The smile he¡¯d been wearing slowly turned into a sardonic grin. ¡°Now, my dear. I know it¡¯s not official yet¡ªFather just informed me of the news earlier tonight. But there is no need to speak to your betrothed so formally. We are to be wed after all.¡±

    The ground attempted to drop out from under Cedric. His lungs tightening as if someone had wrapped an iron band around his chest, and a cold sweat broke out across his body. For a moment, the noise of the bustling ballroom faded to a dull hum. The word betrothed echoing in his mind, bouncing around his core like shrapnel, along with the broken pieces of his heart.

    His eyes locked onto Celeste, searching her face for some sign that this was a misunderstanding¡ªa cruel joke. But she refused to meet his gaze. Her expression remaining composed, almost resigned, as if she had been expecting this moment.

    A sharp, burning sensation clawed at Cedric¡¯s throat. His stomach twisted painfully, and the room seemed to spin. Every instinct screamed at him to fight, to demand an explanation, but all he could do was stand there, frozen.

    Like a knife to the kidney, realization dawned. The meaning behind the look Oliver had been sending him for weeks clicked into place. It was the smirk of a man who knew something you did not.

    Cedric''s hand, still lightly resting on Celeste¡¯s arm, fell to his side, numb and heavy with despair.

    Excited whispers rushed through the witnessing ladies, news of the engagement spreading like wildfire. Several ran over to Celeste, wishing her congratulations, oblivious to the suffering in front of them.

    Cedric swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat as he tried to hold himself together. The ache of loss and the stab of betrayal cutting deeper than any physical blade.

 B1C36 - Lessons Learned the Hard Way

    Lowering Izzy into a dip, Quinten felt something shift¡ªa subtle but unmistakable disturbance that punched him in the gut.

    He faltered, losing the rhythm and nearly dropping his dance partner. Straightening, he brought them both upright, her eyes wide in confusion and a hint of shock. Instead of resuming their dance, Quinten pulled her off the floor. His instincts, and the clenching in his stomach, screamed that something was wrong.

    By the stars, he thought, his jaw tightening. What in starfire was that?

    He closed his eyes and delved into the uncomfortable feeling tearing at his insides. What he found shocked him. The feeling had a pull to it, a direction he could follow. Opening his eyes, he chased it with his gaze. He was just able to make out his friend¡¯s tall frame through the packed bodies.

    Leaning in close to Izzy, his voice low but urgent, he asked, ¡°Can you find Ronan for me? I saw him heading off with one of the servants.¡± Indicating where with his head, he continued, ¡°Try the nearby storage rooms. I think Cedric¡¯s going to need us.¡±

    Without waiting for a reply, Quinten pushed his way through the crowd. In his haste, he created a thin cord of telekinetic energy, using it to gently guide people out of his path, leaving them none the wiser.

    It only took Quinten a moment to process the situation upon reaching the group. Between Oliver¡¯s smug expression and Celeste¡¯s blank mask, he could have guessed, but with the repeated whispers of ¡°engagement¡± going around, it wasn¡¯t necessary.

    You bitch. Quinten quietly seethed. His hands fisting as he tried to sear her soul with his gaze. Her refusal to meet his eyes only increased his anger.

    Deal with her later. Focus on Cedric now.

    Turning to his friend, he looked even worse up close. His usual tan was gone, the color drained from his face. He stood rigid, staring at, and hearing nothing. The devastation that Quinten could still feel roiling in his gut, plainly written across his face.

    Pushing forward, Quinten took a firm grip on Cedric¡¯s arm. ¡°Come on, we¡¯re done here.¡±

    ¡°Mage Ashford!¡± Oliver called brightly. Quinten could hear the smile in his voice without having to turn and see it. ¡°Are you not going to ask one of these lovely ladies to dance? Not Celeste, mind you. I¡¯d like this next dance with my intended.¡±

    Quinten didn¡¯t plan on responding, but he only made it a couple of steps, dragging Cedric along with him before he stopped. Turning to the watching group, Quinten gave them a frosty smile. ¡°Congratulations on your engagement¡ªyou deserve each other.¡± If he hadn¡¯t been watching, and hoping, to see his barb land, he might not have seen Celeste flinch, as slight as it was.

    When her eyes met his, Quinten couldn¡¯t resist a final, parting comment. Channeling all the anger, indignation, and hurt he felt for his friend, he smiled once more. This one just for her.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Cedric didn¡¯t resist as Quinten pulled him through the ballroom, following along in a daze. Cutting a path to the nearest exit with the help of his telekinesis, they quickly left the murmurs and laughter of the ball behind them.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Just as they cleared the doors to the outside, and its fresh air, a panting and flushed Ronan appeared. His clothes were slightly askew and at least one button was done up incorrectly.

    Ronan¡¯s face was a mask of concern and confusion. His eyes met Quinten''s, searching for answers, but all he received was a brief shake of his head. Now was not the time for questions.

    His friend took one look at Cedric, the blank stare all he needed to see to put him into action. Stepping to his other side, Ronan gripped his arm in support.

    The day¡¯s heat had broken and a pleasant breeze carried the scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread from the celebration going on behind them. Quinten frowned as his stomach growled. Between all the dancing and dealing with the night¡¯s dramatics, he''d forgotten to eat.

    They rounded a corner and Quinten stumbled, nausea and another jumble of feelings slamming into him. Similar to Cedric¡¯s earlier despair, but there was a physical element of pain to this sensation¡ªand the metallic taste of blood.

    ¡°Keep an eye on him.¡± Quinten said, stepping away. He ignored the look of concern Ronan shot him and hurried toward the sensation currently making him want to vomit.

    Quinten barreled past a large bush and realized he¡¯d gone too far. Turning back, he found her sitting in the wet grass, staring blankly into the night in much the same catatonic state Cedric was in.

    ¡°Mage Beaumont?¡± He asked, getting no response. Moving closer, Quinten pushed the Gift into his eyes. Letting the light chase away the dark, everything becoming clear.

    Dried tear streaks ran down Mage Beaumont¡¯s face, ruining her perfectly applied paints. Auburn hair, previously done up in an intricate fashion that had made it appear infused with magic in the overhead crystal light, was now hanging down in sections, pulled from its pinnings.

    Quinten didn¡¯t need to inspect her further, but he could tell her sapphire-blue gown was torn along one shoulder. The bruising around her jaw and neck, already beginning to darken.

    Sucking in a sharp breath, he froze. He¡¯d killed men in the heat of battle, dealing with the turmoil afterwards, but this¡­ he didn¡¯t know how to handle.

    ¡°Lady Beaumont?¡± He said, making his voice as soft and calm as he could.

    Giving no response that she¡¯d heard him, she continued to stare into the empty air before her.

    ¡°Arita?¡± Quinten said, trying once more.

    ¡°He grabbed me when I went to the lady''s room.¡± She began in a monotone that carried no emotion. ¡°He said it was my fault. That I¡¯d been teasing him the entire year and it was time.¡±

    Holding out both of her arms, she rested her elbows on her knees with her wrists pointed up. Quinten could see the dark purple discoloration, far more severe than what was visible along her throat, wrapping all the way around them.

    ¡°I tried to fight back.¡± A single, fresh tear, glistened in the moonlight as it rolled down her cheek. ¡°He¡ªcinnamon and cloves. It¡¯s all that I can smell.¡±

    That feeling, the need to vomit became overwhelming, and he lost control of his empty stomach, spewing bile into the bush hiding them from sight. It took him a moment to notice Arita had thrown up as well.

    I¡¯m feeling emotions, Quinten realized in shock. It only lasted a breath before Arita¡¯s quiet sobs pulled him back to the present, and to her.

    ¡°Ronan,¡± Quinten called, sending his words on the wind to not attract attention.

    Not wanting to touch her after what she¡¯d been through, he squat down a few feet away, and spoke as calmly and evenly as he could.

    ¡°My friend is a healer. I¡¯m going to have him escort you to the Infirmary. Are you willing to let him help you?¡±

    A slight nod of her head was all he received in reply.

    ¡°Arita, who did this to you? I won¡¯t let them get away with it.¡±

    This time, she met his gaze. A small ember burning in their depths like a light beneath the ocean waves, setting her eyes aglow and giving him a brief glimpse of the young woman he¡¯d danced with earlier that evening.

    For a long moment, they simply locked eyes. Two fresh streaks running down her pale, freckled cheeks. Then, as though each tear were the price of her words, she finally spoke.

    ¡°Instructor Highbridge.¡±

 B1C37 - Getting What You Deserve

    Ronan¡¯s face paled, taking in Mage Beaumont¡¯s condition.

    Leaning in close, Quinten murmured, ¡°Can you heal her enough to get her to the Infirmary? And will you try to get her there without anyone seeing you? We need to protect her reputation, if possible.¡±

    He nodded with a frown. ¡°Of course. But what are you going to do?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to deal with Highbridge. What do you think?¡± Quinten said, a little heat entering his voice.

    ¡°Q, I know you mean well, but you can¡¯t just go attack someone, let alone the Archmage¡¯s son. Report this to the Academy guards. Let them handle it.¡±

    Gritting his teeth, Quinten shook his head. ¡°Captain Reese said it himself. They have no authority within these walls and definitely not over someone like him.¡±

    ¡°Surely the palace guards brought by the King¡ª¡±

    ¡°Enough, Ronan.¡± Quinten barked. ¡°I tried to do this the right way, and the Academy did nothing. We¡¯re dealing with this. I will drag him before the King in front of the entire ball, myself. Then let them try to hide the monster in their midst.¡±

    Ignoring anything his friend may have tried to say, Quinten turned and looked at Cedric. His eyes were still glassy and unfocused.

    Woosh!

    Cedric''s head snapped back from the blast of icy water catching him full in the face. Shaking his head with the cold liquid running down the back of his neck, the fog around his mind evaporated. Blood rushed back to his brain, and slowly, awareness returned. He looked around, his senses sharpening as reality came into focus.

    ¡°Shit, what happened?¡±

    ¡°Instructor Highbridge. You with me?¡± Quinten asked, already knowing the answer.

    A feral look came into his friend¡¯s eyes, grateful to have something else to focus his pain on.

    *****

    The two young men marched back into the grand ballroom, separating to cover the space in its entirety. It only took a few minutes for them to acknowledge the fact Highbridge was not currently in the main area. Nodding to Cedric which side of the exterior storage and privies to check, Quinten turned to manage those left to him.

    He barely made it a dozen feet before he was stopped by an unlikely pair.

    ¡°I hope this is him. The other one was a little too free with his laughter for my liking.¡± The older of the two said.

    Stars blaze it. Quinten thought, barely able to contain his grimace. Of all the times to be approached by a princess¡ªtwo princesses. He corrected a moment later.

    Offering a bow as etiquette demanded, he met each of their eyes briefly. Quinten forced out from a quickly closing throat, ¡°Your Highnesses, it is a pleasure to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Hmm¡­ I assume it would be,¡± Said Princess Roslyn in an airy tone.

    Unsure of how to reply to that, an eyebrow rose in victory as Quinten tried to contain it. He knew that every boy his age would kill for the chance to speak with either of the two beauties before him, but the opportunity was lost on Quinten.

    If I wasn¡¯t already on a mission, I could never forget who¡¯s daughter you are. He thought coldly as he waited for them to continue the conversation or to leave him be.

    His slight shifting to the side, and hopefully, around them, did not go unnoticed.

    ¡°You would pass on the opportunity to dance with a Princess?¡± Gwendolyn asked. Her brows drawn tight in incredulity.

    Knowing better than to tell her the honest truth, Quinten said. ¡°If I were able? Never, your Highness. Unfortunately, I am in the middle of a task that cannot wait, even for a chance such as this.¡± He ended his speech with another bow, making the young woman blush. In either irritation or embarrassment, he couldn¡¯t say. Peering over their heads, he scanned the crowd for Highbridge, hoping he¡¯d reentered the main room.

    Princess Roslyn did not approve of his response and liked his inattentiveness even less.

    Narrowing her eyes, she asked, ¡°Where is your chivalry, Mage Ashford?¡± Raising her chin as if she were about to deliver a killing blow, she added, ¡°Where is your honor?¡±

    What he¡¯d seen outside flashed through his head and it pushed him over the edge. A harsh laugh escaped him, causing both princesses to jump.

    ¡°Honor indeed,¡± Quinten said with a smile to match his laugh. ¡°I would expect someone at your age would know there are more important things in life than a dance at a ball, your Highness.¡± He said, the last few words coming out clipped.

    Taken aback and caught completely by surprise, Quinten offered them one last parting bow before rushing past them without another word.

    Starry night, what a waste of time, he thought. Shoving open the first door he came across, Quinten found nothing but a stash of white linen tablecloths and spare chairs.

    Three storage rooms and two privies later, he thought they may have missed their target when Quinten''s luck changed.

    Pushing open the second to last door in his hall, Quinten found him, patting his face with a towel. His wet hair slicked back from his damp forehead.

    Looking up, Highbridge arched a brow. ¡°Mage Ashford, what can I do for you?¡±

    Quinten could see it in the man¡¯s eyes, the self-satisfaction warming him from within.

    Gritting his teeth so hard, he had to channel his gift to keep them from cracking, Quinten bit out, ¡°You can come and present yourself to the King. Profess your guilt of the crime of rape and submit to his Justice.¡±

    A long silence stretched between them until Highbridge threw back his head and laughed.

    Quinten just waited, stepping into the privy and letting the door close behind him. All the while continuing his stare, unblinking.

    The laughter finally ceased, and Highbridge wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Only then did he grace Quinten with a smirk. ¡°You¡¯re serious¡ªStars forsake me. Why would I want to do something foolish like that?¡±

    ¡°It is the truth. I have seen the victim. I will support her testimony, and have already filed a complaint with the Academy regarding your behavior and inappropriateness. After tonight, you are done¡­¡±

    Highbridge¡¯s smirk widened and he partially turned away from Quinten. Looking at himself in the mirror, he used the towel to dry first one hand, and then the other, as if he had no care in the world. ¡°Have you forgotten who I am? Who my mother is?¡±

    ¡°The mother of a rapist, apparently.¡± Quinten said, feeling a tingle of anticipation beginning to spread up his spine.

    Highbridge flushed in anger, but remained where he was, meticulously drying his hands.

    The smile on Quinten''s face started small. But it grew as he watched the man across from him throw the towel to the side, revealing his newly shifted and clawed hand. By the time the rest of Highbridge¡¯s body began to change, a grin that most would have called crazed, had they been there to see it, stretched Quinten''s mouth from ear to ear.

    His mind, fully focused on the fight coming toward him, had time for one last thought before the stars began to fall.

    Finally.

    *****

    A deep rumble shook the grand ballroom, nearly knocking Cedric from his feet. A few of the guests began to scream.

    Sounds like Q found him.

    Moving as fast as he could through the largely confused and slightly fearful crowd. Cedric had to fight against the tide of people as a loud crash and the unmistakable sound of air fueling intense flames thundered from the far side of the hall. He could see palace guards forming up around the Royals, not bothering to charge toward the unknown danger.

    Before Cedric could reach one of the exit doors, a portion of the wall exploded inward and a large, dark, and furry shape was sent crashing into the ballroom amidst the broken stone and smoke.

    Quinten, emerging through the gaping hole like a fabled hero out of legend. Determination set his jaw, and his robe flared behind him, its golden accents glinting under the crystal lights, mirroring the fiery gleam of conviction in his hazel eyes.

    *****

    Come on, you stars-cursed, deviant! Quinten mentally yelled. Ignorant of the fear and panic setting those closest to fleeing.

    As if able to hear his thoughts, Highbridge slowly climbed to his feet. Smoke visibly curled away from the man. His previously fine robes left smoldering in places, singeing areas of the dark fur coating his opponent¡¯s body.

    Launching his metal orbs, Quinten altered their shape, turning them into restraints in an attempt to bind his opponent''s wrists and ankles. To his surprise, upon contact with Highbridge, they were transmuted to stone, the deadly spears sent flying back at him.

    Highbridge¡¯s ability to use his elemental gift while transformed was exceedingly rare from what Quinten understood. Where Cedric could be captured and bound with earth or ice, having no gift to combat it directly. Someone like Highbridge, who could do so, greatly increased the difficulty in bringing him down non-lethally.

    Reclaiming the projectiles in his telekinetic grip. He reformed them into metal spheres and set all but two in a defensive orbit around him, deflecting the stone and ice attacks sent his way. Having a special use for the remaining pair, he drew them to his hands and surged forward, snuffing out a fireball in his way with a bit of air manipulation.

    The soon-to-be former-instructor¡¯s ¡±battle form¡± as Cedric liked to call it, was that of a human and wolf hybrid. It added nearly a foot to the man¡¯s height and tacked on several dozen pounds that left his robes nearly bursting at the seams where they weren¡¯t already torn or burned. With large fangs, claws, and nearly glowing red eyes, Highbridge¡¯s battle form created an intimidating visage.

    Taking a swipe at Quinten, once he was in range, his opponent tried to take advantage of his larger frame to overpower him. Similar to his duels with Cedric, the older man was both faster and stronger than Quinten in his shifted form. But it was the years of combat training that would see him through.

    He dodged to the side with just enough room that the elongated claws aiming for his face passed with barely an inch to spare. His expert footwork allowing him to move to Highbridge¡¯s weak side. Landing a devastating combination to the abdomen that no amount of gift reinforcement could brush off, not with the metal knuckle dusters Quinten was striking with.

    Grunting in pain, Highbridge attempted to barrel him over, but only managed to catch a ringing blow to the ear that set him wobbling.

    You¡¯ve earned this, Quinten thought, landing a satisfying punch to the family jewels.

    A wet gurgle burst from his opponent¡¯s jaws. As he curled in on himself, Quinten struck.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Crouching, he drove into the polished marble with enough force it created a spiderweb of hairline cracks. Quinten rocketed upward, driving his knee into Highbridge¡¯s elongated snout with a resounding crack, like lightning striking a thick oak. It lifted the man¡¯s beastly form off the ground and left him airborne for what felt like several moments.

    When he landed, it was in an unmoving and ungainly heap.

    Quinten strode forward, ready to put an end to the fight, when a wall of earth rose between them.

    ¡°STOP!¡±

    It wasn¡¯t the King¡¯s commanding voice that silenced the room. It was a woman¡¯s, a whip-crack of sound that reverberated throughout the ballroom like thunder chasing after lightning in a child¡¯s game of tag.

    Halting his advance, Quinten turned to see the crowd part, revealing a woman. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, but in a gathering of this lofty height, that was more likely to be misleading than not. Her raven-black hair fashioned stylishly, though not in what would commonly be considered that of a young woman. The back was left loose, nearly reaching her backside. Her opulent robes were white, gilded in gold, almost a perfect opposite of his own attire. She was stunning, and Quinten didn¡¯t need an introduction to know who stood before him.

    After all, she was just a mother protecting her son.

    ¡°What is going on here?¡± The Archmage demanded, staring at Quinten coldly. Her icy words chilling all sound within the ballroom. The quiet, fragile like the silence after a heavy snow.

    Quinten returned her gaze levelly. His blood roaring in his ears and the fire in his gut causing him to feel a bit reckless. Maintaining eye contact, he pushed his Gift into his vocal cords, projecting his voice for all to hear.

    ¡°I am apprehending a rapist¡ªand you are interfering, Archmage.¡±

    A unified gasp rippled through the room, one so loud that even Quinten''s single-minded focus couldn¡¯t ignore. Everyone staring at him in shock, Archmage Highbridge included.

    ¡°Ex¡ªexcuse me?¡± She stuttered in surprise.

    ¡°While we were celebrating ourselves, our power and influence.¡± Quinten said in disgust. ¡°Instructor Highbridge raped one of his students. A young woman, who should have been safe at this institution, was instead abused and her trust irrevocably broken.¡±

    His words caught in his throat as it tightened. Not due to a magical attack or even the strange ability to sense the feelings of others, but because of Quinten''s own overwhelming emotions.

    It was too much, too quickly. First his parents'' honor and legacy. Then the games these people played with him, his family, and his friends. Cedric¡¯s heartbreak, the most recent example. With the attack on Mage Beaumont¡­ He couldn¡¯t stay silent any longer. Just bidding his time until he completed his service before leaving the capital to govern his lands.

    Quinten saw that goal for what it was. Running away in the hopes he¡¯d be left alone. It was fear and cowardice bundled into an honorable and reasonable excuse. And it was no longer an option. It never had been.

    Mage Beaumont had been right, and Quinten just wish she hadn¡¯t been a part of the lesson that proved it.

    ¡°That man,¡± He grit out, pointing at the wall obscuring his view with a shaking hand. ¡°Is a deviant. One I intend to deliver to face the King¡¯s Justice.¡±

    Dropping his arm, Quinten stared at the most powerful mage in the kingdom. The shock she¡¯d initially shown now hidden behind a flat expression, giving away nothing.

    ¡°How shall we proceed, Archmage? Will you assist me, or will you protect an accused rapist?¡±

    His question echoed in the absolute stillness of the ballroom. Everyone waiting to see how the Archmage would respond.

    ¡°I raped no one.¡± A voice rasped from the other side of the Archmage¡¯s wall.

    With a flick of her hand, she removed it, and Isaac Highbridge came into view.

    He¡¯d made it to his feet and was back in his normal form, but looked the worse for wear. Portions of his hair and an eyebrow had been burnt away. His jaw was visibly swollen and his robes were shredded with an entire sleeve missing. He stood staring at Quinten. Fury radiating off of him. He even lost control of his Gifts, letting out visible waves of heat.

    ¡°Your victim claims otherwise.¡± Quinten shot back, gaining a modicum of his own control after seeing the shape of the other man.

    Upon hearing her son¡¯s words, the Archmage acted quickly. Her voice rising as she turned to address the assembled guests. "The traitor''s son gets his name cleared and decides to repay the king¡¯s mercy by throwing accusations and causing a disruption at one of the year¡¯s most important events.¡±

    Turning back to Quinten, she asked, "Is that your goal? To sow discord on a night meant for unity?" Her words were sharp and laden with contempt.

    She¡¯s desperate, Quinten realized. She knows he¡¯s guilty and is trying to use the crowd as leverage.

    Turning to those watching, he announced. ¡°My accusation stands. I accuse Instructor Isaac Highbridge of the crime of raping a fellow member of the Peerage, and of abusing his authority, both as a higher ranking noble and in his position as Instructor within this Academy. His actions, both seditious and dishonorable, cannot go unpunished.¡±

    Isaac stepped forward, but a motion from the Archmage froze him in place. Her eyes, cold before, had turned white hot as she tried to incinerate him with her glare.

    ¡°This is a farce, and I will not stand for it. How d¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡ªwill stand for it,¡± Prince Estes interjected, a gleam of delight dancing in his eyes as he stepped into the open space left by the crowd, clearly reveling in the spectacle being witnessed.

    The Archmage paled, ¡°Your Highness, you can¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t what¡­? Archmage?¡± The young prince asked, a sharp edge to his tone.

    The king and queen, along with the princesses, joined him a moment later from where they¡¯d been assessing each and everyone around them. Gauging how they could best handle the situation.

    Time seemed to slow for Quinten as he watched the Royals take in the three of them.

    The realm¡¯s strongest and most accomplished mage, her beaten and sorry looking son, and finally, Quinten. Who, until a few weeks ago, had been nothing but a disgraced traitor¡¯s son.

    To his surprise, he wasn¡¯t dismissed outright.

    ¡°It is not the time nor the place for this.¡± The king began slowly, holding a silent conversation with his wife. ¡°Your accusations have been heard. We will investigate and hold a trial as the law demands.¡±

    Quinten''s eyes flashed at the word trial, but he bit his tongue and forced his hands to remain unclenched at his sides.

    ¡°He attacked a fellow member of the peerage in an unsanctioned duel, your Majesty.¡± The Archmage interjected. "The laws around that offense are very clear, imprisonment in the dungeons.¡±

    Letting out a strangled laugh, Quinten bowed to the king and asked, ¡°Your Majesty, if I may?¡± Earning a slight nod of approval.

    Turning to the Archmage, he asked. ¡°How do you know I attacked him, Archmage Highbridge? It was, in fact, your son who attacked me.¡±

    Her mouth formed into a flat line and they both shifted to face the king. The room holding its breath as he considered. Eventually, he exchanged a look with the Archmage and sighed. But before he could speak, a voice could be heard from the rear of the ballroom.

    ¡°Excuse me. Pardon me¡­ move, you lout!¡±

    Looking over his shoulder in confusion, Quinten watched as Ronan shoved his way through the crowd. Pausing for a moment, he fixed the fit of his sleeves before making his way to stand beside his friend, placing a hand on his shoulder in support.

    Quinten felt a warmth spread through his chest at Ronan¡¯s actions, the first emotion other than anger and coldness he¡¯d felt since rescuing Cedric earlier that night.

    More motion at the edge of the open circle of onlookers caught Quinten''s eye. Cedric shifted along the periphery, not toward his friends, but heading directly toward Highbridge.

    Unsure of what the other boy had planned. He could only watch as Cedric stopped next to the older man as if he was showing support, like Ronan had for Quinten. He inhaled deeply as if to speak, choosing instead to lash out in a strike so quick it could only have been Gift-assisted. The slight shifting of Cedric¡¯s hand to thicken and widen the bones added credence to Quinten''s assumption.

    The satisfying thud of his friend¡¯s fist connecting with Highbridge¡¯s already swollen jaw was satisfying, only beaten by watching the unconscious man hit the floor like a thrown sack of flour.

    Shocked exclamations rang out, and a few ladies fainted at the unexpected violence.

    Looking at Quinten and Ronan with a grin. ¡°Stars above. That felt great.¡± Cedric said with a flex of his hand.

    *****

    Mage¡¯s Academy

    Private Chamber

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t have all three of them arrested just because you demand it, Elowen.¡± Argued the king, in a rare reversal of their roles, trying to talk some sense into the Archmage.

    Seething, she began to pace the length of the room. ¡°So, you send them to their rooms like children who refuse to eat their dinner?¡±

    ¡°It was the only option available. Do you think Duke Hastings would have stood by while we arrested his heir? Especially, after the Infirmary confirmed Lord Hastings healed and delivered an abused student to them this evening.¡±

    ¡°He nearly killed my son!¡± Elowen shrieked, her hair spilling free as she yanked at it in frustration.

    ¡°Your son got off lucky.¡± Queen Clarissa commented from where she stood near the chamber door. ¡°That child, as you put it, took down your son with little issue. An established mage in his own right and considered by many to be one of our strongest battle mages, taken down by a first-year student.¡±

    ¡°Second-year.¡± The king and Elowen said in unison.

    Shaking her head, Elowen hissed, ¡°That¡¯s not the point. It¡¯s what he accused Isaac of doing that is the bigger issue.¡±

    The king shrugged, saying, ¡°He isn¡¯t the only one making the accusation. The victim claims he did it against her will.¡± A click of his tongue brought the pacing Archmage¡¯s eyes to his own before he continued. ¡°He¡¯s done it in the past, and you know it. This is just the first time someone was willing to ignore the fact he is your son and confronted him.¡±

    ¡°Bah,¡± scoffed the Archmage. ¡°She should be happy and hopeful that she carries his child. At least then she¡¯ll have a gifted babe of her own. If she¡¯s lucky, it might even be a son.¡±

    There was a marked end to that conversation as the king and queen stared at her in shock.

    Elowen started to pace anew, stopping mid-step as she latched on to a different tactic. One presented to her by the queen on a silver platter.

    Whirling to face the pair, the Archmage asked in a deceptively calm voice. Her raging emotions from moments ago, crushed in a viselike grip as she spoke. ¡°If Ashford is already this willful¡ªthis powerful¡ªwhat happens when he tires of following the orders of the man who killed his parents?¡±

    She inched her way toward the king. Squinting up at him as if to exam him while he examined her words. ¡°Have you considered it might be better to remove him now, before he grows stronger and gains more supporters? He already has a future Duke and a Baroness¡¯s son willing to be arrested alongside him. Who¡¯s to say he won¡¯t try to achieve what his father was framed for?¡±

    Elowen ignored the frustrated huff released by the queen. Keeping the focus of her whole being on the king as she watched his expression. The seeds of paranoia freshly planted in the fertile field of the man¡¯s mind beginning to take root.

    *****

    Quinten, Cedric, and Ronan were escorted back to the dorms by a pair of instructors and a small contingent of the King¡¯s Guard. They weren¡¯t technically under arrest, but it had been made clear that they were not to leave the dormitory without the king¡¯s expressed permission.

    They sat in Ronan¡¯s ground floor room. As a second year, his was larger than their own, but with the three of them, they were pushing its capacity.

    ¡°Alright, start from the beginning,¡± demanded Ronan. Standing in the middle of the room with his hands planted firmly on his hips, a scowl directed at each of them.

    Cedric blew out a heavy breath and rolled over on Ronan¡¯s bed, burying his face in the pillow. Leaving it to Quinten to explain. ¡°Oliver and Celeste are engaged. I guess their fathers came to an agreement, and Oliver couldn¡¯t wait to share the good news.¡±

    Ronan winced. Reaching over to pat his friend¡¯s leg in commiseration.

    Turning over to stare at the ceiling, Cedric spoke. ¡°I wasn¡¯t really aware of much after Oliver announced their engagement. I remember the prick took all the joy he could, rubbing it in my face.¡± Raising both hands, he rubbed his face aggressively. the light bristling of hair scratching against his palms. ¡°Celeste didn¡¯t seem surprised. I can only assume she was aware their families had been in talks for a while. Marriage between Duchies isn¡¯t something sealed with a gentleman¡¯s agreement.¡±

    No one spoke, and they let his words hang in the air on their own truth.

    Sitting up, Cedric turned to Quinten. ¡°Enough of that bullshit. You beat down an instructor, and called the Archmage¡¯s son a rapist to her face. You have the biggest set of balls I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±

    Quinten gave him a pained grin and shook his head, his face falling. ¡°I bet what I did will be nothing compared to what Lord Beaumont will do when he learns of what happened.¡±

    It was Ronan¡¯s turn to adopt a sad expression. Shaking his head with a sigh. ¡°Lord Beaumont is dead. Taken by the sickness when it passed through. Their lands are within our Duchy. Lady Beaumont may petition my father to represent her in the trial, which he will.¡± Ronan assured them, raising his hands in a placating gesture before they could ask. ¡°But it would be as her Duke and not an aggrieved party.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Cedric said, with a raised brow at Quinten. ¡°If it comes down to a duel, I don¡¯t think Instructor Highbridge is going to want anything to do with Q again. He had his ass handed to him tonight.¡±

    Quinten wasn¡¯t in much of a joking mood, not after all that had transpired. Knowing his friend was trying to force a lighthearted atmosphere for himself as much as Quinten and Ronan, had him putting on his best smile, strained though it may have been.

    Knock, knock, knock

    The three traded looks before Ronan shifted to open his door. Revealing Izzy and Helena standing on the other side, concern written clearly across their faces.

    ¡°Good! You¡¯re both here.¡± Exclaimed Helena, taking in the room. ¡°When we didn¡¯t find either of you in your rooms, we were worried they¡¯d taken you to the dungeons after all.¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± Cedric said, a little of the shadow returning to his gaze. ¡°For now, we¡¯re just bound to our rooms for being bad little boys.¡±

    Izzy met Ronan¡¯s eyes and smiled warmly. ¡°You honored that young woman tonight, Ronan. Thank you for taking care of her.¡±

    The young man waved away her compliment, his blush giving away how her words warmed him.

    ¡°What, no comment on my knockout punch¡ªor the thrashing Q gave Highbridge?¡± Cedric asked sardonically.

    ¡°That¡¯s what we went to your rooms for first. It¡¯s not our fault you weren¡¯t there.¡± replied Izzy, her tone dry. Turning to Quinten, she asked, ¡°Can we go back to yours? There is something I need to discuss with you privately.¡±

    Quinten nodded. Missing the pair of raised brows and the look exchanged between Cedric and Ronan.

    Rising from his seat, Quinten exited first. Stopping briefly to give Ronan a hug, a quiet ¡°thank you¡° passing between them. Stepping into the hall, he heard the distinct sound of Helena dragging Cedric out after them.

    Lost in thought, he barely noticed when they reached his door. Absentmindedly unlocking his room with the key and ushering Izzy in. He closed it behind them.

    The press of her lips and the warmth of her body against his as he turned brought his thoughts to a screeching halt, snapping his mind back to the present. His heart raced, the only sound he could hear being the blood pounding in his ears. It took him an agonizingly long moment to stop the instinctual return of her kiss.

    Pulling back, he blurted, ¡°You¡¯re engaged!¡±

    The fire in her eyes told him how much of an idiot he was being.

    ¡°To an old man I¡¯ve never even met. If I¡¯m forced to marry someone I don¡¯t want, fine, so be it. But I can choose who I want my first time to be with, and it¡¯s not going to be some old man with a receding hairline and wrinkly-balls. Now, shut up and kiss me.¡±

    O¡­ fuck it, Quinten thought.

    Lunging forward, he wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck. Burying his fingers in thick, dark curls. Pulling her to him. The smell of spices and jasmine filled his nose, the taste of scorched honey on his tongue.

    Those were his last coherent thoughts before passing out some time later, sweaty, exhausted, and surprisingly content.

 B1C38 - And Id do it again, Blat, Blat, Blat.

    CRASH!

    The door to Quinten''s room flew open and armored men came storming in. Instinct took over, and with a wave of his hand, he hurled them back through the doorway, their metal-clad bodies slamming into the stone wall with a crash. A loud crunch rang through the hall as a second, nearby door was forced open.

    Summoning a wall of mist to blind their attackers. Quinten turned and met Izzy¡¯s wide eyes. Sitting up in bed, she shifted backwards until she pressed against the headboard, holding the blankets clutched tightly to her chest.

    Telekinetically, he tossed her the first robe he saw, keeping his focus across the room. If he hadn¡¯t been paying close attention, he may have missed it, a shift in the mist¡ªsomeone trying to manipulate the water within.

    "Explain yourselves, or the next person who comes through that door is a dead man!¡± Quinten said, his voice booming down the hallway, echoing even without augmentation.

    The reply, though it wasn¡¯t directed at him, came from the last voice he¡¯d expected to hear. "You idiots! Who thought it was a good idea to try to grab him by force? You¡¯re lucky he didn¡¯t kill you all.¡±

    ¡°Grandfather?¡± Quinten''s brow furrowed as he glanced at Izzy, now covered in the black and gold of his clothing.

    ¡°Out of my way, you morons.¡± Councilman Edmund Wycliffe snapped, appearing in the doorway and parting the mist with a casual wave of his hand. Behind him, the armored men lay in an unconscious heap. Quinten watched his eyes flick to Izzy, going wide at her presence. Edmund stopped, turning his back to them and effectively blocking anyone from seeing into the room.

    Glaring out into the hallway, he barked, ¡°Pick up your people and get out of here. I¡¯ll escort them myself.¡±

    "Councilman, with respect, we were ordered to bring them in¡ªby your own Council,¡± one of the men stammered.

    ¡°I bet you were,¡± Edmund grumbled low enough that only Quinten, and maybe Izzy, were able to hear. ¡°Wait downstairs by the entrance. When they¡¯re presentable, I¡¯ll bring them both down. Now, get out."

    Quinten, still standing naked in the middle of his room, felt his breath start to slow. The tight grip on his magic began to ease.

    His grandfather glanced back over his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t relax just yet. Get dressed. You and Cedric are to be placed under guard while the king decides what the consequences of last night will be.¡±

    Quinten blinked as he tried to process all the things left unsaid.

    He jumped, realizing he wasn¡¯t as calm as he thought he was, when a loud groan came from the hall. Accompanied by the telltale scraping of armor on stone as the men outside were helped to their feet.

    Peering over his shoulder, Quinten''s grandfather looked at him in apology. ¡°The Council hid this from me due to our relation. I only just found out and came as quickly as I could.¡± With another quick glance at Izzy, he wiped the sweat from his brow and said, ¡°I¡¯ll fetch Cedric and meet you downstairs. I suggest you wait until we¡¯re gone to sneak out, my Lady. We should be enough of a spectacle that no one will notice.¡± The last was added with a wink, closing the door behind him.

    Quinten took in what felt like his first real breath since waking. ¡°Well¡­ shit,¡± he said, his shoulders slumping as he traded one last look with Izzy.

    Not knowing what was in store for them, he chose to don last night¡¯s robes instead of putting on the grey¡¯s of an Academy second-year. Quinten descended the stairs to find Cedric standing beside his grandfather. His friend appeared to be whole, but Quinten had heard the sound of a second door being broken down. He peered at the dozen guards surrounding them, each wearing the insignia of the Mage¡¯s Council. An arcane star with five points, one for each of the Gifts of Rivenna, laid out in silver with a circle encompassing and connecting each point.

    Quinten saw several of the guards glaring in Cedric¡¯s direction. Deep scratch marks scoring their previously pristine armor. It was then that he noticed two Core Mages, dressed in their uniform brown robes, included among the group sent to fetch them.

    Without a word, their escort marched them across campus. Just as his grandfather predicted, they were indeed quite the spectacle. Dozens of students stopping to stare. Their march ended in front of a large carriage, with the three men climbing in. To Quinten''s surprise, it wasn¡¯t just them, with the two Core Mages sliding in before the door was shut. The thump of the locking bar dropping into place added an awkward tension inside of the transport.

    The silence continued as the carriage trundled along. Quinten didn¡¯t mind, as it gave him the chance to study the mages sitting across from him. Both young women. Their ranks, as general mages, were sown into their robes and they appeared to be only a few years older than himself. They were also clearly nervous. Sweat glistened on their brows, and their eyes kept darting between the trio sitting across from them.

    It struck him then, the realization. They are here to stop us if we try to run, He thought. His genuine belief that they couldn¡¯t stop him, let alone if Cedric and his grandfather worked together, put their anxiety into perspective.

    The rest of the ride passed in that same tense silence. By the time they arrived, Quinten''s opinion had changed, and he was almost happy for it.

    Almost.

    The door unbolted and swung open, allowing Edmund to step out first, followed by Quinten and Cedric. The dozen men from the Mage¡¯s Council were replaced by a dozen Palace Guards. They, and the two Core mages formed up around the trio. Leading them into the palace.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    The grandeur of the Royal Palace was touted as one of the crowning achievements of artisans, gifted and non-gifted alike. Decades of planning, building, and expansion forming a palatial rose, each petal a new addition with the sole purpose of filling out the rose¡¯s corolla.

    Unfortunately, Quinten and Cedric were not fated to see its beauty that day. Being escorted through a well manned and fortified side entrance used by the Palace Guards. Lifeless, but serviceable grey stone walls welcomed Quinten into the castle''s depths. The clomping of heavy boots on stone and the rattle of armor heralded their way through the tight corridors and doorways. The farther they marched, the staler the air became and the glow of overhead crystal lights inexplicably dimming with each turn.

    Quinten couldn¡¯t tell if the temperature was dropping or if the sinking feeling in his gut was stealing the heat from his core, and he wasn¡¯t the only one to notice. He watched his grandfather¡¯s expression shift, his frown deepening with every step.

    Finally, Grandfather stopped walking. Holding up a hand, he brought the entire group to a halt.

    ¡°Where exactly are you supposed to be ¡°guarding¡± them?¡± He asked.

    The Core mages traded looks with one turning her gaze to the floor, the other meeting the older mage¡¯s eyes, swallowing thickly.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know, Councilman?¡±

    The color drained from his grandfather¡¯s face and rushed back like the sea¡¯s tide, turning the man¡¯s complexion mottled.

    The entire group stood stock still as Edmund fought to control his anger. Cedric watched on in confusion, but Quinten''s spine went rigid in understanding. A mix of nausea and an odd sense of curiosity settling in his stomach.

    Reaching out slowly, Quinten gently took his grandfather by the shoulder. Neither spoke, but he was pulled into a desperate embrace that threatened to break bone in its intensity.

    Returning the hug, Quinten wasn¡¯t surprised to hear him whisper.

    ¡°I will figure this out, but if it comes to it. You must not die in there.¡±

    *****

    A morbid part of Quinten had always wondered about the cells that held his father leading up to his disastrous trial. He¡¯d never expected to actually see them, let alone find himself placed inside one through his own actions.

    Quinten stared at the metal cage, gaping open like some great beast. The question of whether or not it was the same cell clawed its way to the forefront.

    Surely the stars wouldn¡¯t curse you so.

    He found himself frozen in place just as he and been at twelve years old, waiting in the foyer for his parents to climb out of the carriage after his grandfather.

    As had happened so many years ago, a slight nudge from behind broke his trance. It sent him forward, forcing him to duck slightly to enter his new prison.

    The door of interwoven metal slammed shut behind him. The scrape of the bolt sliding home bringing with it a feeling Quinten had never experienced before. His Gift-well, the source of all his power, felt like an air-filled container submerged and held captive underwater, the surrounding pressure constricting and suppressing his Gifts even as they fought to return to the surface. His breath was squeezed from his lungs and made him unsteady on his feet, bringing him to his knees.

    The first thing his conscious mind registered was the guard''s laughter as they watched the pair struggle. His second was the thought. That is even worse than Grandfather warned it would be.

    Quinten bit his cheek so hard it bled, and he could hear Cedric groaning from the cell beside him, both fighting to adjust to the alien force, trying to smother them. Slowly, he made it back to his feet and gave his grandfather a small nod, letting him know he was fine.

    *****

    ¡°This isn¡¯t as bad as I thought a dungeon would be,¡± Cedric said a half hour later when they were finally alone. He lifted up the lid of his chamber pot before quickly letting it fall back into place. Putting some distance between himself and the metal container, he grumbled, ¡°Never mind. Poor Bastard.¡±

    Quinten snorted from the thin straw mattress provided as a bed. As soon as his Grandfather left, he¡¯d lain down and dove within himself mentally to see what was being done to affect his Gifts and if there was any way to remove the heavy blanket of itchy wool being metaphysically thrown over him, a constant irritant since entering the cell.

    ¡°I¡¯m just glad Ronan was left out of this,¡± He said absently, his eyes still shut.

    ¡°Me too.¡± Cedric said, ¡°I don¡¯t think this place would fit his sensibilities.¡±

    Opening his eyes, he sat up and faced his friend directly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry you are here. Last night¡ª¡± Quinten began, but Cedric cut him off.

    ¡°No. That punch was absolutely worth it. That pervert deserved everything he got and more.¡± He said, his fists clenching in remembrance.

    A moment later, Cedric froze and finally stopped fidgeting for the first time since entering his cell. Running up to the metal bars closest to Quinten. He gripped one in each hand and stared at his friend, eyes wide in shock.

    Quinten, taken aback at Cedric¡¯s antics, rocked backward. The cold metal bars dug into his shoulders, a reminder of their presence.

    ¡°I completely forgot!¡± Grinning at Quinten, he winked, ¡°At least there is one bright star in all of this¡ªcongratulations on becoming a man¡­¡±

    Cedric jumped to the side as a piddly blast of icy water shot through where he¡¯d been standing a moment before. His laughter choked off in surprise, both he and Quinten staring at the frozen line of water running between the cells.

    ¡°How¡¯d you do that? I thought your Grandfather said these cages are able to suppress all of our Gifts.¡±

    ¡°He did¡­¡± Quinten said, frowning. ¡°Maybe this one is defective?¡±

    ¡°Or maybe your Gift is just that powerful¡ªYou know what this means, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Quinten looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow. ¡°That I might be able to break us out of here if the worst should happen?¡±

    Cedric¡¯s brow lifted as understanding dawned.

    ¡°Oooh. That¡¯s a good point¡­.¡± He said with a nod.

    Quinten continued to stare at his friend, waiting for him to continue. When he didn¡¯t, he asked, ¡°Are you going to tell me what you thought this meant?¡±

    Cedric looked up, a tinge of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. ¡°I¡ªuh. It doesn¡¯t matter. Hurry up and melt that before anyone comes to check on us and sees it.¡±

    Frowning, Quinten knelt down and attempted to summon a small flame. The water getting shot at Cedric had been instinctive, a common occurrence when his friend was acting ridiculous.

    The cage was effecting on him. That blast would normally have been enough to soak Cedric¡¯s upper body. What he¡¯d actually been able to summon would have just wet his head and face.

    Quinten fought against the cloying blanket of fog as he tried to delve through its depths to connect with his Elemental gift, summoning heat from his core. It took him a few minutes, every time he mentally paused, the fog piled on top of his efforts like snow in an avalanche, smothering the heat and forcing him to start again.

    Eventually, he discovered that as long as he continued mentally pushing through it, the suppression couldn¡¯t actually stop him from making a connection with his Gift-well. It just made anything he did with it more difficult, as if the energy flowing through him was being forced through channels half the size of what he was used to.

    Successfully conjuring a small flame in his palm, he directed its heat toward the icy floor and watched as water began to trickle toward a floor drain.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Cedric mumbled to himself. ¡°That¡¯s much better than what I had in mind.¡±

    Looking up from where he knelt, Quinten asked, ¡°What were you going to say?¡±

    Shrugging with a sheepish expression, Cedric said, ¡°If you couldn¡¯t figure out a flame to melt it and get rid of the evidence. I thought we were going to have to piss on it.¡±

 B1C39 - Sentenced to War

    Quinten tilted his head and raised a hand, putting their attempts to improve Cedric¡¯s ability to use his Gifts under suppression to an end. As uncomfortable as the feeling may have been, it was turning out to be an incredible training tool. After the second day, Cedric¡¯s boredom reached a point he was willing to try to break through the irritating feeling, something that only got worse the more you pushed against it. It took what they guessed to be the third day in its entirety for him to get his first success. The bowels of the palace dungeons not having a convenient window available to track the passage of time.

    The stomping of heavy soled boots had reached Quinten''s ears first. He¡¯d taken to running a small bit of energy to them at all times over the last week in an effort to take in every bit of information regarding their current situation as they could. What he learned was far from fully detailed, only piecing together snippets of conversation between the guards when they believed they were far enough away to go unheard. That, and what they liked to ¡°let slip¡± when checking on their prisoners.

    It was never anything that left the pair with the warmth of hope burning in their gut.

    Rolling to his feet. Quinten turned to face the stairwell leading down to the noble cells. He hadn¡¯t known he could hate someone without a face to hold in his mind, but the black leather masks with openings for a pair of eyes, nose, and mouth proved otherwise.

    He and Cedric learned quickly to be prepared for the underhanded ways the faceless men would try to force them to err, providing just cause to hold back a meal or justification to refuse taking away a filled pot.

    Hidden behind a veil of anonymity, Quinten assumed it was to allow their jailers to be swapped out at random and prevent prisoners from targeting any of the guards, in particular for bribery or blackmail. But the reverse was also true. Those same protections gave Cedric and Quinten no one to attribute their abuse and harassment to.

    At least they can¡¯t torture us, not yet anyway.

    Quinten was wearing nothing but his small clothes, having removed and folded his formal robes when it became clear they wouldn¡¯t be released anytime soon. He placed them in the center of his cell¡ªas far away from the bars as he could manage¡ªa lesson learned on the third day when a tormentor tried to soil them with his waste-filled pot after Quinten refused to acknowledge their attempts at provocation.

    The heavy treads continued to draw closer. Based on the number of approaching bodies, this was a break in the routine of the last week.

    Casting a look back at the pile, Quinten considered rushing to put them on. But if this was indeed someone coming for them, the petty part of himself was screaming for a victory, even one as small as making whoever was coming wait while he dressed.

    To Quinten''s shock¡ªand great relief¡ªhis grandfather was the first one to exit the stairwell. He moved forward in a rush. His face growing murderous as he took in their conditions.

    Gripping the bars of Quinten''s cell, his voice low and scratchy, he forced out, ¡°Curse the darkened stars.¡±

    Placing his palms on the older man¡¯s hands, Quinten put his forehead against the cold steel between them. The feeling of suppression squeezing tighter with direct contact, a sensation he knew his grandfather could feel as well.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on? Are we being released?¡±

    Grandfather shifted away, releasing the bars with a slight shiver, shaking out his hands as if attempting to work back the feeling. ¡°I don¡¯t know, son. You¡¯ve been summoned to meet with the king¡ªI¡¯ve pulled down every star I¡¯m owed, promised a few on your behalf, and I¡¯m still not sure how this will unfold.¡±

    A dozen men and half again, as many Core mages entered the floor while they¡¯d been speaking. Quinten looked up and met each pair of eyes, one by one, trying to glean all that he could from their expressions. He was met by a majority of professional and cautious looks from the guards. Those that weren¡¯t matched the anxiety and fear he could see in their gazes.

    Shaking his head, Quinten focused as the guard sergeant stepped forward. Clearing his throat, he asked, ¡°Would you mind getting dressed, my lord? I don¡¯t think it would be appropriate parading you through the palace in this state.¡±

    Quinten eyed the man. He was in his early to mid-thirties and clean shaven, but his helmet hid much, and other than the blank professional stare of someone used to dealing with nobles, Quinten could read little.

    Instead of doing as requested, he asked a question of his own. ¡°Will you be taking us somewhere we can bathe?¡± Lifting an arm, he sniffed loudly and said, ¡°We stink.¡±

    Dipping his head slightly, the man grimaced. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my lord. Our orders are to take you straight to the king.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± Quinten said with a sigh, ¡°Can you at least open the gate so I can give us a rins¡ª?¡±

    ¡°No magic,¡± commanded one of the Core mages, catching the three of them by surprise. Shifting his gaze, Quinten saw that the mage corporal, based on her stitched rank, was the one to issue the order.

    Grandfather spun, demanding, ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    Quinten had to give her credit. She remained unintimidated as she returned his glare with one of her own. ¡°If either of them uses magic, we are supposed to see it as a threat and respond accordingly. Those are our orders, given directly from the Archmage.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll do it, stars above, this is ridicu¡ª¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t, Councilman.¡± The mage corporal interrupted once more. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but you are here just as an observer. That is the deal you made to be allowed to accompany us.¡±

    He interrupted before his grandfather could argue further. ¡°Forget it. Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡±

    *****

    Quinten heard the sounds of others, likely palace staff, bustling about for the first time in over a week. It was such a mundane sound, and it shocked him how much he¡¯d missed something he¡¯d never even considered previously.

    At some point, it became clear they were being led somewhere other than the Grand Hall, and he wasn¡¯t sure if that was a good or bad development. But after having already been in the dungeons for the past week, wherever they were going was likely better than where he¡¯d been.

    Their escort stopped before a pair of doors, finely made and heavily constructed. They were accented with silver, with the crowned star of the royal family¡¯s sigil transmuted into the center of each door. A pair of guards pushed them open, revealing an audience chamber that currently stood empty.

    The mid-sized room, designed for more intimate or sensitive gatherings, showed its grandeur, not through size and scale as the Grand Hall, but through its pinnings. Frescoes of grand feats of magic adorned the arched ceiling. Large wooden beams accented the room with glowing gems embedded into the wood, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that resulted in a warm light bathing everything within.

    Quinten, Cedric, and his grandfather were ushered inside. Their guards and the Core mages spreading out to cover the space in its entirety. They waited, the quiet of the formerly empty room and their anxiety somehow overpowering the hall¡¯s intended construction, bringing forth the chill of a trespassed tomb, its eternal peace disrupted.

    Cedric was the first to break. Leaning over, he asked in as soft a voice as he could manage, ¡°Do you know what¡¯s been going on? They wouldn¡¯t tell us anything, just utter nonsense. Surely the Gentry and common-folk aren¡¯t calling for our heads.¡±

    Grandfather¡¯s head whipped around, a look of confusion running rampant. ¡°Starfire. Who¡¯s calling for your heads? If anything, it¡¯s the opposite.¡±

    That released some of the tightness in Quinten''s chest. The drooping in Cedric''s shoulders as he let out a breath of relief said he felt the same.

    His grandfather¡¯s gaze swept the room. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t relax just yet. The fact that we were brought here instead of a public audience has me nervous. I can¡¯t help but feel that none of us are going to enjoy what follows.¡±

    Lapsing into silence, they waited for what felt like hours, but couldn¡¯t have been more than half of one. Each lost to their own thoughts and fears.

    Quinten jerked slightly when the sounds of people approaching reached him. His reaction did not go unnoticed as he saw the mage corporal shift, staring at him with an intensity that made him nervous.

    Forcing their hand because I forgot I was boosting my ears is the last thing I need.

    Neither she nor the other Core mages wore a helmet. Allowing Quinten an unobstructed view of her face. She too appeared to be in her early-thirties and was a boar of a woman. Wide shoulders that stretched her brown robes with an upturned nose and narrow black eyes to match.

    Maintaining eye contact, he held his breath when the heavy doors swung open, wondering if she would accuse him of using his Gift. Several long moments passed and when it became clear that she wasn¡¯t likely to say anything, Quinten released the air through his nose slowly as he refocused on the people entering the room.

    The King and Queen swept in first, the Archmage following closely on their heels with over half-a-dozen additional mages in the purple robes of Council members filing in behind.

    With Grandfather here, they have the entire Council of Mages in attendance. Stars above, what is going on?

    While the royals took their seats overlooking the room, Quinten used the time to assess each of the mages standing behind the Archmage. He¡¯d asked his grandfather about them out of curiosity in the past, but this was his first time seeing any of them in person.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    The Council of Mages, headed by the Archmage, was made up of eight seats, each assigned a different role based on their abilities and the needs of the kingdom.

    The first to catch his eye was, if not the most well-known, easily the most loved. Selena Hartwin, the Master of Healing and leader of the realm''s Healers stood out as a contrast. She looked every bit her fifty years, refusing to use her Gift to turn back the clock and remain looking young. She¡¯d been asked about it once, and only once, late in her service to the Core and her scathing answer of, ¡°What does a wrinkle matter when men are dying?¡± Had made her famous. The agonized cries of the men in the make-shift infirmary in the background and the blood dripping from her hands as she stared at the unfortunate young noble, stupid enough to ask, instantly won over the common-folk as the story spread. Their support had likely placed her in her current position when the previous Master of Healing stepped down.

    Next, and Quinten couldn¡¯t help notice the similarities in stance and mannerism if not in looks, between her and the Mage Corporal, was the Master of the Core, Petra Vextris. She had short cropped hair and a no nonsense expression. Her flat gray eyes swept over him, measuring him like a carpenter eyeing a piece of wood for its worth as a wedge. He fought the urge to shrink beneath her iron gaze.

    The rest flew by with less presence. Maris Arvani, leader of the Mage¡¯s Council, bookish and unconcerned with anything but the exploration and study of magic if the rumors were to be believed.

    Hortensia Ironwright, Master Mediator, head adjudicator and overseer of mage affairs throughout the kingdom. Stiff and unyielding were the most common words used to describe the woman. Looking at her ram-rod straight posture, hands clasped behind her back, Quinten could see why that might be the case.

    The married pair of Master of Coin and Master Administrator included the only male other than Quinten''s grandfather on the Council. They were nondescript and, if what Grandfather told him was the truth, Althea Greve controlled a significant amount of power through coin within the realm, just as she controlled her husband, Elias.

    Quinten almost missed the final purple-robed figure, somehow managing to fade into the back even with him counting and knowing how many had followed the king and queen into the room.

    It was for this reason that Quinten feared her the most. Reven. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was a title or an assumed name, but it was the only one ever used regarding the cowled councilwoman. The chin of her infamous white mask was the only thing visible through the depths of her hood.

    She¡¯d frightened¡ªand morbidly fascinated him the first time his grandfather mentioned the Spy Master. The head of the realm¡¯s intelligence network, she worked independently and reported directly to the King and Archmage. The pair being the only two to know her identity. Her office supplied information to the Ministers of Interior, Exterior, as well as the Office of Inquisition at Reven¡¯s discretion.

    Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, and just knowing that she was aware of his existence made a bead of cold sweat run down his spine. The layers of dress robes he wore doing nothing to ward off the chill of that realization.

    Quinten quickly turned his gaze to where it should be. On the person who would decide his fate today, not the reaper coming to end him in some potential future.

    The king stared down at him, his face impassive. He leaned on the arm of one chair with his elbow, his hand cupping his chin. The scratching of his stylishly cropped beard scraping against his palm was obscenely loud in the otherwise silent room.

    ¡°Earl Ashford, Lord Vaelmara,¡± the king began. ¡°Your actions, and the choices you made at the Mid-year Ball, have kicked over a hornet''s nest.¡± His tone was calm, with only the barest trace of irritation hidden within.

    Quinten would have loved to know what the man was feeling but with the number of mages in the room, and his inability to repeat his experience sensing the emotions of others, it was only a passing wish, a star shooting across the night¡¯s sky.

    ¡°We confirmed your claims with the Infirmary. Lord Hastings did indeed deliver a student of the Academy to them just before your duel with Viscount Highbridge began.¡± The king said, placing special emphasis on the word.

    Ahh. Quinten thought. They are calling it a duel?

    It made sense, sanctioning their fight as a duel. The solution neatly sidestepped their inability to prove who threw the first punch and they could gloss over the details of who challenged who, easily enough. A silver lining was the fact that the king referred to Highbridge by his title instead of as Instructor, gave Quinten some hope.

    ¡°That being said¡­¡±

    The man let his words hang over the room. Each of its occupants had their attention directed wholly toward the pair standing at the room¡¯s center. Their collective gazes made each breath a struggle as Quinten felt the burn at the back of his throat.

    This is bullshit. I did what was right by Mage Beaumont and all those who came before her. This is the result?

    Quinten latched on to that anger. Squeezing it tight, he pulled the flame down deep and gave it a home sheltered from the gusting wind of injustice raging around him.

    Lifting his chin, Quinten rolled his shoulders and stood firm against the metaphysical gale. His steady hazel eyes locked with the king¡¯s, unashamed of his actions. Time seemed to stretch, and the storm swelled in intensity as the tension in the room became charged. The hair in Quinten''s nose tingled as the sharp promise of a lightning storm built for its first strike.

    ¡°That being said¡­¡± repeated the king. ¡°Your decision to participate in an unsanctioned magical duel, at a ball no less, knowingly endangered members of the nobility and showed an alarming lack of judgment for one with so much¡ªpotential.¡±

    Power, Quinten thought, hearing the real word the king wanted to use.

    Indicating the council members standing to one side of the room, he continued. ¡°The question of whether or not you deserve a punishment was put to a vote among the Council.¡±

    Quinten was grateful when the king chose not to keep him waiting in suspense. ¡°You were saved by a single vote,¡± he said. His exhale of relief froze in his chest as he noticed the look in the man¡¯s eye.

    ¡°That is of course, until the impartiality of your grandfather¡¯s vote was called into question. The Archmage would normally weigh in as the deciding vote, but she too, could be considered compromised.¡± The king shifted in his seat, drumming his fingers along the arm of his chair. ¡°It would have then fallen to me to decide the consequence of your recent actions.¡±

    Quinten felt it as his shadow crawled up his legs and gripped him by his wrists, tugging at him as it tried to pull him into the pit of despair his stomach had become. Then the king¡¯s words penetrated, one of them in particular.

    Would.

    ¡°A change of heart has seen you cleared,¡± he said. His eyes flashing behind Quinten to where his grandfather¡¯s comforting presence stood. Where they briefly touched on the man before returning to Quinten¡¯s face.

    He understood in an abstract sense that the king held the life of every citizen within his kingdom in his hands. But to be standing before the man, at his mercy just as his parents had been, left him feeling untethered and thankful beyond words that the decision hadn¡¯t made its way past the Council. A lump forming at the back of his throat made it hard to breathe.

    Seeking out the little flame inside gave him something to focus on, and Quinten clung to the mental image with all his might.

    ¡°It is decided that your week in the dungeon was punishment enough for your part in the unsanctioned duel.¡± Pausing, Quinten saw the hint of a sneer appear on the man¡¯s face. ¡°It helped your case that word surrounding the incident has spread, with both nobles and commoners alike singing your praises. Congratulations, keep it up and you could become a hero of the realm¡­¡±

    Turning to Cedric, he said. ¡°The time you spent under guard is also enough for your assault on Viscount Highbridge¡¯s person, Lord Vaelmara. That was a stunning right cross, if I do say so myself.¡± He said charmingly, finishing his sentence with a wink as Cedric¡¯s jaw fell slack in surprise.

    If he hadn¡¯t seen the king¡¯s sneer, Quinten might have thought that was the end of it.

    It can¡¯t be that easy. It¡¯s not possible that the Archmage would just let what we did to her son go. Not like this.

    Sitting forward, the king pursed his lips and his eyebrows lowered as if troubled. ¡°Unfortunately, given your conduct against an Instructor of the Academy and at the request of the Headmistress and Archmage, your time at the Academy is over.¡±

    Quinten heard a familiar grunt from behind him and he could picture his grandfather¡¯s brows drawing down over his eyes in a frown.

    The sound of metal clicking against metal as the guards shifted drew his gaze. The armored men and brown-robed mages radiated tension. They stood sentinel, watching and waiting for Cedric or himself to call upon their Gifts. A cough from above made him look up, noticing for the first time the murder holes strategically placed to hide among the ceilings artwork.

    He tried to swallow, but the dryness and bile burning its way up the back of his throat made it painful. Slowly, as to not spook any anxious trigger fingers, he faced forward.

    Pushing away the concerns he could not control. Quinten considered what it meant to be kicked out of the Academy. It was stupid, and he knew it, but in that moment, it felt like a harsher sentence than imprisonment.

    To his surprise, it was not the king¡¯s voice that he heard next.

    ¡°The Academy was never meant to be the end of your path,¡± said the queen, her voice noticeably warmer than her husbands. ¡°Your talents are needed and better served elsewhere.¡±

    She really is the peacemaker, just like Grandfather Henry always said.

    The king nodded, giving her a smile and responding, ¡°You are correct, of course, my queen.¡± Shifting his gaze back to Quinten and Cedric, he continued. ¡°With the growing unrest of the kingdom, I have decided your willingness to do battle is in greater need elsewhere.¡±

    The pounding of his heart reverberated in his ears like a war drum as realization set in. Quinten let his eyes wander before they locked on to a glowing sapphire sticking out of the wall and radiating a calming blue light behind the king¡¯s head.

    ¡°Effective immediately,¡± he announced. ¡°You will be released from the Academy and begin your mandatory service to the Mage Core.¡±

    A tone of smug satisfaction crept into his voice as he said, ¡°Think of it as just another rapid advancement. Once enrolled in the Core, you will then be sent to the front lines. The war with the Drakovians escalates by the day, and your skill sets and enthusiasm will be of greater value in defending the realm than by staying within the Academy walls.¡±

    Cedric opened his mouth to ask a question, but the King¡¯s gaze silenced him. ¡°This is not a matter for debate. You are to report directly to the Mage Core Headquarters tomorrow morning. You have today to remove your things from the Academy and to settle your affairs.¡±

    Motion at the corner of his eye drew Quinten''s gaze like a beacon to the Archmage¡¯s cheshire grin, the unmistakable glee radiating off of her almost suffocating.

    In that moment, Quinten finally understood the game being played. This wasn¡¯t about the Academy, the war, or even their apparent support of the people. This was about getting them removed from the board entirely.

    They see us, me specifically, as a threat, he realized with cold certainty. They want us dead.

    With little to lose and an overwhelming desire to remove the look from her face, Quinten asked the king, ¡°If I may, your Majesty?¡±

    The king sat back with a raised brow but waved for him to continue.

    ¡°Will Viscount Highbridge be joining us out west?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± the queen interjected. ¡°He will remain in the capital while under investigation.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, your Majesty. If I may ask one more question. Is there anything being done to protect the young ladies of the Academy from his perversity?¡±

    Quinten didn¡¯t need to look in the Archmage¡¯s direction to know her face had turned crimson in fury. It was given away by the sound of strangled laughter coming from the purple-robed group, and saddening him by the fact he couldn¡¯t pinpoint where it originated.

    Before Highbridge could respond, the queen silenced her with a motion of her hand.

    ¡°The accused has been removed from the Academy and the title of Instructor stripped until a ruling has been made.¡±

    Knowing that was the best he could hope for. Quinten bowed properly to the woman and focused once more on the blue light that was having little success in calming his emotions.

    Now that he knew his fate, Quinten felt that tiny flame, burned down to the dregs of a candle reignite with new life. Energy roared through his body in a mixture of excitement and resolve.

    Finished with the Academy, he was one step closer to fulfilling his commitment to the realm, and one step closer to the goal he¡¯d once clung to¡ªfreedom.

    Sadly, it was no longer enough.

    No, after witnessing corruption firsthand, seeing innocents abused by those in power with no course for recompense, Quinten''s desires had changed.

    Quinten would go to the front lines, to war with the Drakovians, and he would do all that he could to help bring it to an end. Then, he would return stronger and, with the support he needed to protect those who could not protect themselves.

    He would stand as their bastion, bearing the indomitable shield against which the powers that be shattered.

 B1C40 - Rematch

    The carriage door shut closed with a slight snick of the latch sliding into position, a contrast to the heavy thump of a locking bar dropping into place a week earlier.

    Quinten closed his eyes and leaned back against the cool wood behind him. The horses nickered to each other as the driver snapped the reins. The carriage lurched forward with the clopping of hooves and the jingle of harness.

    Taking a deep breathe, he tried to process everything that¡¯d happened and how his life had changed.

    He and Cedric were being sentenced to war. It was almost funny, in a way. He¡¯d gotten what he¡¯d wanted.

    If I turn my head a certain way and squint particularly hard, he thought.

    He let out a small snort at his own poor joke. The tiny release of emotion was like the breaking of a damn. Quinten''s shoulders shook and his face turned red as he tried to hold in his laughter. He struggled against it for only a few seconds before giving in with a small chuckle that turned into a full-belly laugh. Cedric joined in halfway through, and by the end, they were both wiping away tears from their eyes.

    Quinten''s grandfather didn¡¯t laugh from where he sat across from them. But he let a slight smile touch upon his drawn and otherwise tight expression.

    ¡°Do you boys feel better?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Quinten, ¡°I do. It was either that or cry in relief.¡±

    Cedric nodded his agreement, adding. ¡°It could definitely have gone worse.¡±

    Grunting, Ed waved a hand and created a privacy barrier of air. ¡°Only by trying to kill you outright.¡± Shaking his head, he gave a small snort of this own. ¡°The king wasn¡¯t kidding about the support you garnered from the commoners and lower-ranking nobles. Standing up for one of them against someone as well connected as the Highbridges? Word spread like wildfire, and any case they could have made would have been seen for what it was, an act of desperation.¡±

    Sighing, he turned to look out the carriage window, its drape blown back by the oscillating wind.

    ¡°This was a neat way of bundling you off and getting you out of their hair. I expect you will be sent right into the lion¡¯s den in the hopes of getting you killed.¡±

    Neither Quinten nor Cedric had a ready response to what was likely a true statement. Deciding to change the subject slightly, Quinten asked. ¡°Has Grandfather Henry sent you any recent updates on the war? The last I received is several months old now.¡±

    Nodding, Ed released the privacy barrier, it having served its purpose, and replied, ¡°I received one two weeks ago. They are in a stalemate, but one we are slowly losing. The Drakovians are simply too mobile and difficult to pin down on the open plains. Henry recalled their defensive screenings to newly built strategic fortifications. From those, he can better defend the farms and settlements closer to the borders. It won¡¯t stop the Drakovians from raiding and pillaging. But it is limiting how deep into our lands they can do so without risking our forces cutting off their retreat.¡±

    They can attack us at their leisure. Forcing us to respond, and controlling the war¡¯s tempo, Quinten thought in frustration. He recognized it as a recipe for disaster and could understand why his grandfather believed they were losing.

    Quinten kneaded his lip as he considered what they would need to take care of before heading out west. The affairs of his holdings were in good standing, as were their investments, largely done in a silent partner capacity at the suggestion of Quinten''s grandfather. With both Cedric and Quinten expecting to spend several years away between the Academy and the Core, it made little sense to try for anything more active.

    There were supplies and equipment that they would need to purchase before leaving. But at another suggestion from Ed, they were going to wait and see what the Core issued them before doing so. The concern being space and weight rather than cost.

    Their conversation lasted until their carriage pulled up to the Academy¡¯s gated entrance. Cedric and Quinten climbed down to the cobblestone street, his grandfather remaining seated.

    Meeting Quinten''s eyes through the open door, he said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry that I couldn¡¯t have done more for you boys. I am heading back to the Council to find out what your assignments in the Core will be and to whom you will be placed under as Mage Commander. That will give us some idea of what to expect.¡±

    Pausing, he looked down at his feet before meeting Quinten''s gaze once more. There were several emotions swirling in his grandfather¡¯s eyes¡ª

    No, Quinten realized in shock, parsing through what he was feeling. Not in his eyes. I¡¯m sensing them myself.

    A mix of frustration, irritation, acceptance, and even a touch of shame passed through him as he held the older man¡¯s stare.

    His grandfather blinked first, ending the connection and saying. ¡°Before you leave, we will need to discuss some of the deals I had to negotiate on your behalf to get the votes we needed to see you cleared.¡±

    Quinten felt the cold hand of dread grab him by the throat, as it gave a slight squeeze. He struggled to swallow and had to force down the anxiety threatening to rise. He¡¯d heard his grandfather mention having to make a few deals when he¡¯d appeared in the dungeon, but Q¡¯d been able to push the concern away at the time with everything going on.

    Unable to speak, he just nodded and stepped away from the carriage, allowing the driver to shut the door and put an end to their conversation. The man retook his seat and put the horses into motion with a shake of his reins.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t ominous or anything¡­¡± Cedric said in a concerned tone.

    Quinten jerked in a full-body shiver, shaking off the nerves before they could settle.

    ¡°The stars shine where they want to. Nothing you or I can do about it. Come on, let¡¯s go find Ronan.¡±

    The pair turned and strode through the academy gates, nodding at the guards who, while staring at them oddly, thankfully recognized them as students from their training sessions together.

    Former students, Quinten reminded himself.

    They were noticed almost immediately. The fact they were still in their dress robes and not the white or grays of students made them stick out. The spectacle they¡¯d made of themselves at the Ball having had ample time to spread during their weeks incarceration. Whispers and murmurs raced ahead as if aided by magic.

    Neither boy was surprised when they arrived at their dorm to see a large group waiting for them. Oliver Wyndham stood at its head, feet planted and arms crossed. He sneered at them, warping his normally handsome face into something almost grotesque.

    ¡°What are you two doing back here? Weren¡¯t you expelled?¡±

    Cedric and Quinten stopped a few feet away from the young man and the crowd that was quickly forming around them. Trading a glance, Quinten raised a brown and asked his friend quietly. ¡°I don¡¯t think so¡­ not technically, at least?¡±

    Cedric grinned slightly. Sliding a step ahead of Quinten, he answered for them both. ¡°No, we weren¡¯t. But we are leaving the Academy.¡± Turning to the gathered students, he raised his arms and gave an extravagant bow. ¡°The Queen herself stated that our talents are needed elsewhere. What was it the King said, Q?¡±

    Fighting not to grin, Quinten stepped forward announcing, ¡°I believe he said that the realm is better served by us protecting the kingdom, not sitting her and playing student.¡±

    Their banter and blatant disregard for the older boy made him visibly bristle in anger. His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched at his sides. Taking a step forward, Oliver growled low in his throat.

    Cedric matched the move, taking a step of his own with a dark glint in his eyes. The anger, absent from the initial revelation of Oliver and Celeste¡¯s engagement, finally making an appearance. His muscles tensed in anticipation and his hands clenched involuntarily.

    Sensing the shift, Quinten turned to face the older boy, raising a single brow in confusion. ¡°Something stuck in your throat, Mage Wyndham?¡±

    Oliver stared between the two of them. Dismissing Cedric, they settled on Quinten. ¡°Just excited to see the trashed removed from the Academy. It has an image to uphold, after all.¡±

    Quinten smirked, doing little to conceal the contempt he felt. ¡°I¡¯m sure. But you''re in luck. We will be reporting to the Mage Core in the morning.¡± Cocking his head to the side, Quinten motioned with his chin. ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind moving out of our way, there are things we must do to prepare.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Oliver¡¯s hands twitched, and Quinten felt him begin to draw on his magic as flames licked at his fingertips. Quinten reached for his own Gifts when he was rocked by a wave of anticipation from the surrounding crowd that derailed his concentration.

    Distracted, he was unprepared for Oliver¡¯s lunge.

    *****

    With a roar, Cedric shifted. Ripping through his clothes in his haste, he charged forward.

    His current battle form was based on a large thick skinned beast with leathery skin that could handle elemental attacks relatively well when reinforced by his Physical gift. It was also built for short, rapid charges to close the distance between him and an opponent.

    Cedric¡¯s shod hooves shattered the stone pavers under his increased weight, driving them into the ground for more traction. Knocking Quinten out of the way, he barreled into Oliver, taking the man by surprise. He launched his opponent into the air with a thrust of his arms and shoulders.

    Shifting once more, Cedric turned into something very similar to the lupine form Highbridge used in his fight with Quinten, except Cedric had no need to remain on only two limbs. He dashed forward on all fours, knowing he only had a moment before his target was back on his feet.

    Cedric was only a few yards away when a wall of earth shot up and blocked him from his target. He¡¯d been watching Oliver and realized the stone shaping hadn¡¯t come from him. Someone else had interfered.

    Prick can¡¯t even fight his own battles.

    Cedric altered his hind legs slightly, just enough to increase his vertical leap. He launched himself into the air and couldn¡¯t help the smile that crossed his face as he cleared the wall and shifted once more. This time, back to his normal human form with one exception.

    Pain lanced through him as large, oversized wings burst from his back. The sheen of their raven-black feathers reflecting off the setting sun as they caught the wind.

    *****

    Well, fuck me, that¡¯s a new one. Quinten stood slack-jawed as he watched his friend fly.

    He wasn¡¯t the only one. The gathered students stared in stunned silence. Even Oliver, having just returned to his feet, watched in paralyzed shock. That is, until Cedric folded his wings and dove straight for him.

    His black wings flared out a moment before it was too late, and Cedric hit the ground at a run. He took three steps before landing a solid shot to the jaw that knocked the older boy unconscious, putting an end to their disagreement.

    Staring at his friend, Quinten had to admit he made an impressive sight, standing the victor. His fine robes were ruined. His shirt, already torn from his earlier shifting, was in shredded tatters that allowed the pair of beautiful black wings the room they needed.

    Quinten spotted a certain blonde head watching from among the crowd and couldn¡¯t keep the smirk off his face as he thought. I hope that burns going down. You had no idea what you gave up.

    Realizing that it wasn¡¯t a great idea to stick around, Quinten quickly made his way over to a panting Cedric, still amped up on adrenaline. He whistled to get his friend¡¯s attention and nodded toward the building once their eyes met.

    Quinten followed behind, blocking Cedric from view, he took the provided opportunity to inspect the man¡¯s wings. As far as he could tell they tied into the shoulder blades, but it was much more complex. Quinten could see the muscles along Cedric¡¯s shoulders were thicker, especially those by his neck and the lateral muscles along his side seemed extra dense. Cedric must have chosen that moment to shift them back as they folded into his body and he return to his normal form.

    I¡¯ll have to ask him about that, Quinten thought. He had always had a dream of flying. Sadly, he doubted this would be an option for him though, shifting just wasn¡¯t one of his talents.

    Entering the dormitory, the pair turned toward Ronan¡¯s room and hurried down the hall. Cedric¡¯s knock wasn¡¯t answered, nor was there any sound of movement inside the room. Quinten and Cedric traded glances and Quinten shrugged.

    Frowning, Cedric knocked again, harder this time. Making the door rattle in its frame.

    ¡°Hey, healer-boy. There is a jackass out front that could probably use your assistance.¡±

    Something hit the floor with a thud and a muffled curse made its way through to the two in the hall. A moment later and the door swung open revealing a pale, paler than usual, face of their friend. The slight smell of unwashed body odor reaching Quinten from within the room.

    A sob escaped the tall, thin boy as he rushed them. Grabbing first Cedric and then Quinten in a tight and slightly smelly hug.

    ¡°I thought you two were going to die¡­¡± he mumbled into Quinten''s shoulder as he patterned the crying man¡¯s back.

    Cedric reached over and put a hand on Ronan¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You can¡¯t get rid of your brothers that easily.¡±

    He laughed in response. A laugh that turned into a hiccup halfway through that looked like it caused the older boy physical pain.

    Pulling back, Ronan wiped his nose on his sleeve and turned, motioning them into his room. Neither boy moved to enter, a shared grimace crossing their faces.

    ¡°When¡¯s the last time you showered, you stink?¡±

    With another hiccup, Ronan said. ¡°Probably about the same time you two did. Things haven¡¯t been great.¡±

    Quinten gave him a light push. ¡°Get your stuff. We all could use one.¡±

    *****

    A gasp from behind him and Quinten spinning around. Ronan reached over and pulled Cedric¡¯s arm to where he could better see it in the overhead crystal-light.

    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding!¡±

    Rolling his eyes, he pulled his arm back as Quinten laughed. ¡°It¡¯s not mine. It¡¯s that git, Oliver¡¯s. I¡¯m fine.¡±

    Ronan frowned, looking between Quinten and Cedric. ¡°Earlier, when you said someone could use my help¡­¡±

    Cedric grinned, and Quinten nodded, a smile tugging at his lips.

    Sighing, Ronan just shook his head, grumbling about idiots and their inability to stay out of trouble.

    ¡°What happened?¡± He finally asked once his mumbling subsided.

    ¡°He tried to go after Q and I decided I¡¯d rather have a rematch instead.¡± Turning to Ronan, he flexed, showing of his lean muscle. ¡°He wasn¡¯t ready for me this time.¡± He smiled after earning a snort from his friend, but as if remembering something he¡¯d forgotten, he turned toward Quinten.

    ¡°Actually, that reminds me. What happened to you?¡± He asked with a frown. ¡°One minute you were ready to go, and the next you looked like you were about to pass out.¡±

    Quinten scratched his head and considered the best way of explaining. Deciding it was probably better to start from the beginning.

    Facing Cedric, he said. ¡°That¡¯s actually something I¡¯ve been ask you about. I thought I might have imagined it, as it didn¡¯t happen at all during our time suppressed, but outside just now¡­ it almost did me in.¡±

    From there, they entered the showers and Quinten explained everything. The odd insight he would get around people that¡¯d been occurring over the last year. Then the night of the ball, how he felt Cedric from across the room and how he¡¯d found Mage Beaumont. To the crowd overwhelming him with its excitement.

    Ronan frowned, confused. ¡°When you say feeling people¡¯s emotion. You mean sensing if someone¡¯s happy, sad, or angry?¡±

    ¡°Kind of. It¡¯s not just sensing. I am feeling it too.¡±

    The pair turned to Cedric, who, was being unusually silent.

    Staring at Quinten in shock, Cedric opened his mouth and tried to speak but no words came out. He finally found his voice and nearly shouted, ¡°Falling fucking stars, you¡¯re an empath!¡±

    Ronan and Quinten shared a confused look, waiting for Cedric to explain.

    Turning away from them, he started to pace. Doing it naked in the showers had Quinten fighting back a laugh at the absurd image.

    ¡°My mother told me about them once. They are incredibly rare, so much so they are considered by many to be a myth. She is going to lose her shit when she finds out you¡¯re an empath.¡±

    The humor quickly wearing off, Quinten interrupted, "That¡¯s all well and good, but what exactly is an empath?"

    Cedric stopped pacing and faced them. Shrugging, he said. ¡°According to her, empaths have the power to sense and absorb the emotions of others. They don¡¯t just feel them¡ªthey experience them as if they were their own. Empaths also have a heightened sensitivity to others'' emotions, even without actively using their Gift.¡±

    He stopped walking and looked directly at Quinten, a frown creasing his forehead. ¡°There were cases of empaths being hunted down because people believed they could manipulate and influence those around them.¡±

    Massaging his temples, Quinten groaned, ¡°Of course they did. Because I need another reason for someone to want me dead.¡±

    ¡°Alright, enough of that.¡± Ordered Ronan. ¡°What are they going to do with the two of you? And what about Instructor Highbridge?¡±

    Cedric and Quinten traded looks. After seeing the state of their friend when they¡¯d found him, they knew he wouldn¡¯t like what they had to say.

    ¡°Ronan¡­ We¡¯ve been ordered to report to the Mage Core tomorrow. They are sending us to fight the Drakovians.¡±

    *****

    Ronan watched as Cedric and Quinten made their way up the stairs and toward their rooms. Swallowing thickly, he thought back on the last week.

    It hadn¡¯t been great.

    He¡¯d heard the commotion as the men from the Mage¡¯s Council swarmed the men¡¯s dormitory. He was grateful to catch sight of his two friends, confirming with his own eyes that they were fine and even following along behind as Quinten''s grandfather lead them across campus.

    Suspecting what would happen, Ronan hailed a passing carriage. One of the small ones that would only fit two people, bidding the driver to take him to his family''s residence in Gremelda.

    The trip to see his father had not gone well. The man¡¯s refusal to come to his friend¡¯s aid had led to a confrontation. A confrontation years in the making that came to a head as emotions ran high. Words were exchanged that could never be taken back, and Ronan wasn¡¯t sure could ever be forgiven.

    From there, things did not improve. His return to academy grounds was met with a large amount of interest. Everyone asking him what had happened and for details on the events leading up to Quinten''s fight with Instructor¡ªFormer-instructor Highbridge.

    When Ronan admitted to not knowing where the two had been taken, the focus shifted to the previous night. His flat refusal to share any of the details, especially the identity of Highbridge¡¯s victim, the curiosity quickly turned to scorn and disdain.

    He made it through the next few days, exchanging letters with Quinten and Cedric¡¯s families as he tried to figure out a solution. Sitting alone in the dining hall for dinner, he heard another bit of gossip that killed any appetite he¡¯d had.

    The victim, who had managed to remain anonymous, would not be testifying against Viscount Highbridge.

    Initially, Ronan was furious at Arita Beaumont. It took him several hours of brooding to understand the why of her actions. She would have to come forward publically with the accusation. Announcing to the entire kingdom what¡¯d been done to her. It wasn¡¯t her fault, but the harsh reality was that it would almost certainly ruin any chance of her finding a good marriage to someone of standing.

    Learning that she wouldn¡¯t come forward to substantiate Quinten''s claims. Ronan could only guess at how much it would damage his friend¡¯s cases.

    At that point, Ronan¡¯s depression dug in deep and he¡¯d barely made it out of bed. He¡¯d stopped going to class.

    When a knock at his door woke him from a restless dream, the first bit of sleep he¡¯d managed to get in days. He assumed it was someone on the academy staff making sure he was still alive. Opening the door to see Cedric and Quinten standing on the other side had nearly broken him completely.

    He stared at himself in the mirror. Tall, skinny, his usually pale complexion was sallow from lack of sun and fresh air. Ronan reached up and touched the bags under his eyes, pulling the freckles tight across his cheeks.

    Channeling his Gift through his hands, Ronan pushed a wave of rejuvenation through his body. Cupping water in his hands, he rinsed his face and took another look in the mirror.

    He looked like himself once more, clear-eyed and fresh faced. Except for the eyes, those were different. They were the eyes of a man who¡¯d made a decision.

 B1C41 - The Core

    Quinten squinted into the early morning sun as he and Cedric walked through the streets of Gremelda. The Mage Core Headquarters, located a short distance away from the academy¡¯s campus, was close enough that both boys would rather walk than wait for a carriage.

    Neither were too keen on sitting in a small enclosed box after their time spent in a cage.

    Walking side by side down the cobblestone streets, the pair took it all in. The bustling city was already showing its life. With vendors shouting to advertise their wares, the sounds of carriages and carts rolling along the smooth stone streets, and the faint sound of distant laughter coming through open tavern windows.

    Untethered from the Mage Academy, Quinten felt an odd sense of weightlessness that he knew wouldn¡¯t last. Choosing to enjoy it while he could, he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. The scent of freshly baked bread reached his nose, making his stomach growl.

    ¡°Celeste came to see me last night.¡±

    Quinten''s eyes snapped open and his head whipped around at the news. Giving his friend a look of disapproval, he asked. ¡°What did that trollop want?¡±

    Grinning, Cedric stared off into space as if in recollection. ¡°I have no idea. I¡¯m not even sure she knew. But I can say she was none too happy when Helena slipped past her and out of my room.¡±

    Quinten stared at his friend, his brows lowering. ¡°We¡¯ll come back to what Helena was doing in your room last night.¡± Side-eying Cedric, he asked. ¡°What did Celeste actually say?¡±

    Cedric returned Quinten''s frown with a scowl of his own. ¡°Don¡¯t frown at me. It wasn¡¯t like that.¡± But a moment later, a grin fought its way to the surface, making his face brighten. ¡°Not that I let Celeste know nothing happened.¡±

    The grin continued to spread and Cedric shook his head, saying. ¡°Once she got over her jealousy? Not much. Like I said, I¡¯m not sure that she even knew why she was there. She made some excuses, how the match with Oliver was her father¡¯s doing, that she didn¡¯t know how to tell me they were in talks. She didn¡¯t really say anything worth the air she wasted.¡±

    Quinten sighed. Taking advantage as they turned a corner, he swayed closer. Bumping the other boy¡¯s shoulder with his own, he said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you know that, right? I may have never liked her, but that doesn¡¯t mean I wanted you to get hurt.¡± Cedric nodded, and Quinten changed the subject. ¡°Good. Now¡ªHelena¡­ How¡¯d that happen?¡±

    Scowling once more, Cedric shouldered Quinten in return and with a little more force behind it. ¡°I told you it wasn¡¯t like that.¡± Pausing, he amended. ¡°Not that it couldn¡¯t have been. I¡¯m not stupid. I know she¡¯s interested in me. It¡¯s not like she hid it well¡­¡± Looking at Quinten, he worried his lower lip. ¡°I just¡­ couldn¡¯t? I think I¡¯d have only ended up hurting her, and I don¡¯t want her feeling how I am now.¡±

    Reaching over, Quinten gripped his shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re a good man. No matter what people say about you.¡±

    A smirk slowly spread across Cedric¡¯s face as he quirked an eyebrow. ¡°What they say about me, huh? Maybe you should be more worried about what they say about you¡ªDid Izzy give you a proper send off last night?¡±

    Quinten''s face flushed and his cheeks burned as Cedric laughed, stumbling back to his side after Quinten shoved him away.

    Wiping away imagined tears, Cedric wheezed. ¡°You probably shouldn¡¯t have let your privacy barrier drop like that. I get it though¡­ it sounded like the two of you were focused on other things.¡±

    Stepping to the side to make room for a passing cart, Quinten glared at his friend. His embarrassment turning to irritation. ¡°Are you finished?¡±

    *****

    The headquarters for the Mage Core turned out to be a series of interconnected buildings built around one large and imposing structure, like a village built at the foot of a mountain. Made of the same pale mage stone used on most government buildings, this one glowed faintly of imbued magic and protection.

    Quinten stopped a passing footman wearing the livery of the Mage Core, a mage¡¯s staff overlaying a kite shield accented with stars, and asked for directions to where they needed to go for registration. With a thank you to the man for his assistance, the pair headed toward the third building on the left. A smooth portion of stone containing the word Administration, helpfully etched above the door.

    They froze upon entry. It wasn¡¯t due to the high vaulted ceilings or the polished wood shining in the room¡¯s crystal light of the receiving room. No, it was the young man leaning on the chest-high counter that grabbed their attention.

    ¡°Good!¡± Ronan said with a wide smile. ¡°You made it. You were almost late. Miss Alice here was getting worried she¡¯d have to call the guards to go and fetch you.¡±

    Quinten turned and saw a young woman, a little older than the three of them, standing behind the wide counter. Looking between the trio, her gaze returning to Ronan with a slight blush coloring her full cheeks.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Lord Hastings, I would never¡ª¡±

    ¡°My apologies, Miss Alice. I am only kidding. But now that they are here, you will be able to finish all three of our registrations?¡±

    She nodded, her tight braid swinging as her head moved up and down. Scooping up the stack of papers before her, she said. ¡°Of course, my lord. I don¡¯t know how they forgot to send your paperwork over with theirs, but I will get them processed.¡± Turning to Cedric and Quinten, she continued, ¡°I just need to go over these with the two of you and you¡¯ll be all set.¡±

    ¡°Perfect,¡± said Ronan with a charming grin that made the young lady duck her head.

    Quinten stared at his friend in wonder. By the stars. I wasn¡¯t even aware the man knew how to flirt. Eyeing Miss Alice and her rose-tinted complexion, Quinten almost felt bad. Turning his gaze back to Ronan, he wondered if his friend knew what he was getting himself into by coming with them.

    Of course he does, thought Quinten. He just doesn¡¯t care.

    With the young woman¡¯s help, Cedric and Quinten went through the forms. After ensuring all their information was correct, or a variation of the truth in Ronan¡¯s case, they officially registered with, and began, their required four years of service with the Mage Core.

    Miss Alice gave them detailed directions to their next stop, the Assignments Hall. Quinten saw her stare after Ronan with a sad expression as he walked away, leading their little group through a side door and deeper into the building.

    Making their way down the hallway, Quinten waved at Cedric, nodding with his head toward a door marked as storage. He pulled open the door while Cedric grabbed their Ronan. Who, let out a squawk when he was grabbed and jerked forcibly back into a small room lined with shelves, lit with only the smallest crystal from above..

    Quinten shut the door and a moment later, fully illuminated the room with a ball of flame roiling in his palm.

    Ronan shrunk back at the glowers on his friend¡¯s faces. ¡°What¡­?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t act innocent.¡± Quinten hissed. ¡°What were you thinking?¡±

    The question seemed to light a fire in the older boy as his posture shifted. A flame lit his eyes to match the one in Quinten''s hand.

    ¡°I was thinking¡ªthat I where you go, I go.¡± He said with a glower. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ronan closed his eyes, adding, ¡°I can¡¯t stay at that place any longer, not alone.¡±

    Cedric and Quinten traded a look. Shrugging, the other boy was clearly uncertain about what to say.

    Quinten paused to consider the situation and realized that Ronan¡¯s decision only moved forward the inevitable. He would be graduating in a few months with a high likelihood of being sent to the front lines, anyway. At least now, he''d be going with them to watch out for each other.

    A rising bit of fear had him frowning in confusion. It took him a moment to realize that the emotion wasn¡¯t coming from him. Shifting his gaze to the older boy. Quinten noticed the thin line his friend¡¯s mouth had become and the wringing of his hands in agitation. Putting the emotions he felt and what he was seeing before him together, it clicked.

    He¡¯s afraid of being rejected. Of having to go back to the Academy without us.

    Sighing, Quinten gave in with a slump of his shoulders. Patting Ronan¡¯s shoulder, he said, ¡°Fair enough. Are you going to get in trouble for this? We left the Academy on the King¡¯s orders. You are not.¡±

    Ronan¡¯s face split in a smile that nearly glowed with the golden light of Healing. ¡°What are they going to do, expel me? Send me to war?¡± He said with a light snort. ¡°I¡¯m the heir to a Duchy and I¡¯m going to take advantage of it.¡± Left unsaid was the for now that each of them thought silently.

    That settled, they exited the supply room. Opening the door to find a young man, only a few years older than them, in workwear standing on the other side, hand extended toward the handle. The trio froze, staring at the man, giving them a wide-eyed stare in return.

    ¡°Told you that wasn¡¯t the way to the Assignment Hall!¡± Cedric all but shouted, edging forward and out into the hallway.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­.?¡± Ronan said, playing along and following him out of the room. ¡°I don¡¯t know why you listened to me. You know I¡¯m terrible with directions.¡±

    Quinten smothered a laugh and shook his head. He handed the young man with curly brown hair and a confused and slightly terrified expression a silver coin, likely a week¡¯s wages, and followed the two idiots down the hall as they bickered nonsensically.

    They were getting ready to step into a world of ugliness, of pain, blood, death. Quinten was happy to see them keep their lighthearted innocence as long as they could.

    *****

    The Assignments Hall was done in dark marble flooring with stone pillars arranged around the room. The center of the space was filled with wooden benches arranged in rows, with several wooden counters spanning the perimeter of the room. Currently, only two stations had someone standing behind them.

    Quinten picked one at random and approached, stopping in surprise when the attendant raised her hand for him to wait while she finished scribbling on a sheet of parchment. Only then did she look up with a beaming smile. ¡°How may I help you today, my lords?¡±

    ¡°We just finished registration and need our initial assignments, Miss¡­?¡± Quinten asked.

    Her smile widened, which was hard to believe. ¡°It¡¯s Lady Elaine, Mage Ashford.¡± Her eyes bounced to two other young men with him, causing her to frown. ¡°I was expecting Mage Vaelmara and yourself, but not a third¡­¡±

    Ronan stepped forward, ¡°Yes, that is my fault. It appears that my paperwork was lost. Miss Alice in Registration assisted me in sorting it all out. She gave me these¡­¡± He said, handing over the stack of papers he¡¯d been carrying. ¡°I am Mage Hastings, and I will be joining these two.¡±

    Elaine¡¯s frown remained, but she nodded slowly. ¡°We will look into that, Mage Hastings. Now, your files are missing some information, we typically receive a full report of your results in the final exams at the Academy, but your circumstances make that impossible. Now, will each of you please detail your Gifts and where you believe you would be the greatest asset to the Realm.¡±

    As expected, all three ended up assigned to the western front and the war with the Drakovians. Ronan was assigned as a lieutenant or Lt. in the Healer Division. Quinten, due to his rank of Earl, was also placed as an Lt. but attached to a calvary unit where he would lead a platoon of 30-40 mages. Cedric found himself assigned as Battle Mage, or squad leader, in one of the units that made up Quinten''s platoon.

    With a set of final stamps, they were done. Lady Elaine pointed them in toward their next destination, a place Q¡¯d been excited to visit ever since he¡¯d learned of it.

    Equipment Issue by the Quartermaster., rumored to be where a Core mage could get their first look at Manadrite.

 B1C42 - The Quartermaster

    Quinten''s experience with magical items had been limited to the Proving Grounds and the healing tubs used in the Infirmary during his time at the Academy. Walking into the Quartermaster¡¯s domain, the trio were gifted with a sight to behold.

    The heavy doors of the hall creaked open, revealing a sprawling open-aired space that hummed with activity. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with heat and the clang of hammer on metal, tinged with the acrid scent of burning coal and the hot tang of oil. A red glow emanated from craftsman¡¯s tools while the pieces they worked appeared lit from within by a blue light imbuing the metal with their Gifts. Enormous shelves, stacked high with spear or stave blanks, armor, and miscellaneous equipment hung from the walls running the length of the room. Workers moved in an unknown dance, each step choreographed to shift the craftsman around their workspaces at need.

    ¡°New members of the Core, eh?¡± A gruff voice asked, breaking through their amazement.

    Quinten, Cedric, and Ronan turned to see a broad-shouldered man watching them. He stood out with his caramel-colored skin and salt-and-pepper beard that indicated either his age, or lack of interest in having a Healer keep them appearing young. He wore a well-used and often repaired leather apron that was currently coated in soot. His arms, thick from years of hard work, were crossed over his chest as he sized them up. His eyes, sharp and observant, stopped on each of them, clearly judging their worth.

    Grunting at what he saw, the man introduced himself. ¡°I¡¯m Master Zekial, the Quartermaster.¡± Stepping forward, the man held out his hand to Quinten, palm open as if he meant to trade grips.

    Reaching to take the extended forearm, Quinten was taken aback when, as fast as a snake, the thickly built man gripped him with both hands. He pulled Quinten forward and tilted his hand up to his face, shifting it left and right as he took in the calluses. He was released a moment later, with Quinten stepping back on reflex, scowling at the man before him.

    The Quartermaster just raised an eyebrow in return. His eyes were almost mocking in their challenge.

    Quinten continued to frown, but chose not to comment. Master Zekial gave a small nod before turning and walking away, leaving Quinten more than a little confused.

    The Quartermaster made it to the next station before stopping and peering at them over his shoulder.

    ¡°Are you lot coming, or not?¡±

    The trio exchanged a look, but hurried after the man that continued to talk as he walked.

    ¡°Gossip says that you were booted from the Academy. Since you didn¡¯t make it far enough into the second year to test how your Gift reacts to manadrite, we¡¯ll do that now.¡±

    He led them deeper into the hall. Approaching a reinforced metal door, Quinten picked up on a faint humming sound. Looking around for its source, the buzz continued to grow, and it took him a minute to realize where it was coming from. They stood before the large door, the air practically thrumming in intensity.

    Master Zekial unbolted the iron door. Swinging it open, a wave of energy poured out like a dam breaking, revealing the magical armory that lay within. Long intricately carved wooden staves, the kind commonly seen carried by mages, were hung along the walls in neat rows. Velvet lined boxes ran down the center of the room, were smaller rods, rings, and even a crate of short swords were placed, their gray-blue metal glittering in the light of the overhead crystals.

    ¡°Everything in here is imbued with manadrite. Even the wood pieces have a core of the stuff.¡± The Quartermaster said, rapping a staff hung on the wall near him with his knuckles. ¡°In case none of your instructors explained it. Manadrite will either boost your power or speed up your casting. For some, it can even do a bit of both, just to a lesser degree.¡±

    The man¡¯s cobalt blue eyes, made all the brighter by his darker skin, bore into the three. ¡°Manadrite is rare and these are only issued on loan during your service to the realm. They will be returned when you leave the Core.¡± He said, his tone making it clear how serious the Core took the matter.

    Turning to Ronan, he said, ¡°You look like a Healer.¡± To which the older boy nodded in agreement. Master Zekial picked up a simple but elegant ring and held it out to the young man. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, Ronan examined the metal band. It would have looked like tarnished silver if it weren¡¯t for the shimmering notes of manadrite worked into the base material.

    ¡°You¡¯ll need both hands free if you are going to be running around healing people. Go ahead and put it on. Send just a trickle of your Gift into the ring and the band will resize itself to fit you.¡±

    Following the man¡¯s instructions, Ronan slipped the ring onto his finger, his mouth going slack when it shrunk to grip his middle finger securely. Just wearing the ring wouldn¡¯t tell him what effect the manadrite would have on his Gift, but he was excited to find out.

    Looking at Cedric, Zekial¡¯s eyes traced the young man up and down once more. ¡°What unit were you assigned to support?¡±

    ¡°Battle Mage for one of the calvary platoons.¡± He dipped his head towards Quinten and said, ¡°I¡¯ll be reporting to him as my Lieutenant.¡±

    The Quartermaster nodded and handed Cedric one of the short swords. ¡°You had some calluses. I think you¡¯ll be able to put this to good use. Belt it on for now. You¡¯ll get a chance to test it out soon enough.¡±

    ¡°Uhh,¡± Cedric said, not taking the weapon just yet. Eyeing Ronan, he asked. ¡°Would a ring be able to shift with me like it adjusted to Ronan¡¯s finger?¡±

    The older man¡¯s head pulled back and raised an eyebrow. ¡°A shifter placed in a calvary unit? What were they thinking¡­.¡± Shaking his head, the Quartermaster nodded to the box containing the rings. ¡°Grab one of those. Doesn¡¯t matter which, they are all pretty much the same and will stay with you as you shift forms.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Finally, he turned to Quinten. Frowning, Master Zekial gave him a once over as he rubbed his beard in consideration.

    ¡°I know who you are. You look enough like the Lord Marshall for me to recognize you. If the man hadn¡¯t saved my life, and I didn¡¯t know how strong your Gift was, I¡¯d never even consider this, but¡­¡±

    Trailing off, he spun on his heel and made his way to the back of the room, returning a moment later with a cloth-wrapped bundle in his hands. He gently set it down on the table beside Quinten and turned to face him, looking deep into his eyes as if in search of answers. ¡°I¡¯m going to give you two options. I can do what I¡¯m supposed to, what I¡¯d do for anyone else, and give you one of those short swords. Or¡­¡± Reaching over, he slowly unwrapped the cover.

    Quinten''s breath hitched at what lay beneath. Unlike the simple short swords stacked in the crate, the sword laying on the table was a work of art.

    ¡°This was forged at the King¡¯s behest. It was intended for the Prince, but the energy demands of the blade were too high for him to wield it. She has been sitting down here in the dark ever since. Waiting for someone with the power and skill to bring her to life.¡±

    Unable to stop himself, Quinten''s hand reached out toward the sword, freezing just before the tips of his fingers touched metal. He forced his eyes away from the weapon and met the Quartermaster¡¯s gaze, receiving a nod of permission.

    The blade was sheathed in a wood stained so dark that it was nearly black. Its grey undertones showing through in a pattern that seemed random but came together in a stylized whole. Fit snuggly against the lip of the sheath, the metal cross guard extended outward like the wings of a soaring bird. A shard of manadrite was embedded on each side of the guard, ensuring its value would be known whether drawn or sheathed. The black, leather-wrapped hilt ended in a thick, rounded pommel, able to be used as a blunt weapon in its own right.

    Quinten wrapped one hand around the hilt, the other gripping the sheath. He felt a pulse run through him from the blade and knew that this was a moment he would never forget. His eyes flicked to Master Zekial one last time, receiving a nod of encouragement in return.

    Drawing the sword, an audible thrum reverberated throughout the room. Quinten was too focused to take notice, but it earned surprised looks from his friends and a raised brow from the older man.

    The hand-and-a-half, or bastard sword, was breathtaking. The blade¡¯s length coming in just under what¡¯d traditionally be considered a longsword. It was perfectly balanced, and too heavy to be easily wielded in one hand without the use of one¡¯s Gift. The blade was three fingers thick, with a deep fuller running down its center. Double edged, and ending in a wicked point, the glitter of manadrite gave the gray-blue blade an ethereal quality that Quinten immediately fell in love with.

    He met Master Zekial¡¯s eyes, a question written within. The Quartermaster laughed, shaking his head. ¡°O, no. I¡¯m not just giving her away. You need to prove you are worthy to earn such a beauty. Follow me,¡± he said. Grabbing a short sword before leaving the room, stopping to pull a shield off a nearby rack as they passed. Their journey through the main room attracted many curious gazes, with a small crowd gathering in their wake.

    Crossing through the main area, they exited a door and entered into a room that was clearly used for testing. Several training dummies and other various contraptions were placed around the outer wall. Master Zekial''s destination was a clear section in the middle of the room with more than enough space for a sparring match.

    Taking their positions in silence, they faced each other. Quinten gripped his new blade in both hands. The metal hummed what felt like a demand for him to channel his Gift into it. Hesitating briefly, he reached out with the faintest trace of his Gift. The moment it touched the blade, a force gripped his gift, sucking it into the sword. Quinten could feel his Gift Well draining as more and more energy was pulled from him. He started to panic, worried that it would drain him dry. Quinten focused with everything he had on the sensation, and on the sword, clamping down on their connection and shutting off the flow of magic.

    Sweating, Quinten looked up and met the Quartermaster¡¯s gaze. A small smirk dancing across the man¡¯s lips as he gave a knowing nod. ¡°She took a bite out of you, huh? You¡¯ll need to be careful. Now that she¡¯s had a taste of your Gift, she¡¯ll always want more.¡±

    Swinging his sword and shield to loosen up his shoulders, the man continued. ¡°What you gain from using manadrite is paid for with increased energy usage. That one,¡± he said, pointing with his blade, ¡°Is worse than most. If your Gift Well wasn¡¯t so large, you wouldn¡¯t be able to wield her. It¡¯s the main reason she¡¯s sat in the vault for so long.¡± Scratching his nose with the lip of his shield, he said. ¡°Let¡¯s get on with it. No Gifts, just strength of arms and skill. Show me you have the foundation needed to put her to good use.¡±

    Master Zekial sprang forward with surprising speed for a man his size. Quinten parried the strike, shifting his opponent¡¯s blade wide and spinning to avoid the rim of the Quartermaster''s shield as he pressed his attack. They fought for several minutes, working their way through progressively more complicated exchanges. Quinten slowly found balance with his new blade, discovering its rhythm. He wasn¡¯t sure if the sword was adjusting to fit him like Ronan¡¯s ring, or if it was him growing accustom to the weapon¡¯s weight and size. Before long, it felt like an extension of his body. He began to intuitively gauge its exact reach and anticipate the perfect angle of a strike, all of it coming together as instinct.

    The Quartermaster¡¯s movements were precise, his strikes powerful and efficient. The man clearly knew how to fight and he was relentless in testing Quinten''s skill with the blade, but it wasn¡¯t enough.

    Sidestepping a lunge, Quinten pivoted right. Using his momentum to land a powerful two-handed blow on the boss of his opponent¡¯s shield. The impact rocked Master Zekial back, stalling his counter. Quinten spun in the opposite direction, creating distance and allowing himself to make greater use of his longer reach. His blade stayed in motion the entire time. Using the rebound from his strike to rotate his weapon through a complex loop, bringing it back around, low to the ground in an upward stroke.

    He expected the Quartermaster to block, allowing Quinten to follow through the attack, ending with his blade against the man¡¯s neck, or at least¡ªthat was the plan.

    When Quinten''s upward blow struck his opponent''s shield. A flash of blue light lit the room, momentarily blinding those watching the fight. It took a second for Quinten''s vision to clear and when it did. He saw Master Zekial soaring through the air and across the room. Bits and pieces of his shattered shield flying in all directions.

    Staring at the sword in shock, Quinten was brought back to reality by a shriek in the crowd. Worried he may have accidentally killed the Quartermaster, Quinten dashed forward but Ronan was already there, golden light radiating from his hands. The man lay prone on the ground, a trickle of blood ran down his head and his shield arm was bent at an unnatural angle.

    A popping sound came when the broken bone visibly shifted back into place. A moment later, Master Zekial''s eyes fluttered open, shifting around as he got his baring. His gaze finally settled on Quinten''s concerned face. ¡°Ay lad,¡± the man grunted. ¡°I think she¡¯ll do you just fine.¡± Laying his head back down, he said, ¡°At least we gave you a chance to test that new ring of yours. Eh, Healer?¡±

    Their conversation faded into the background as Quinten''s focus became consumed by the sword in his hand. A surge of excitement pulsed from it to him as he ran his fingers along the cool edge of the blade, its power humming just beneath the surface. The possibilities of what it could do filled him with a sense of anticipation and wonder. Carefully, he sheathed the blade and secured it to his belt.

    A quiet certainty settled over him¡ªthis wasn¡¯t just a weapon or a piece of manadrite; it was the beginning of something extraordinary, and it was his.

 B1C43 - Astraea

    The aftermath of Quinten''s spar with Master Zekial was a flurry of activity. An assistant ran off, returning promptly with a well-stocked kit full of bandages and other items required to treat minor wounds. The Quartermaster allowed the assistant to clean away the blood from his forehead, giving the fretting man the opportunity to see the healed cut. Its lack of bleeding, a testament to Ronan¡¯s skill.

    Annoyed with his assistant¡¯s mother hen routine, he had Quinten, Cedric, and Ronan test how the manadrite they¡¯d received affected their Gifts.

    Cedric saw an appreciable increase in his casting speed, allowing him to shift and manipulate his telekinesis far faster than he could with it removed.

    In Ronan¡¯s case, his manadrite ring boosted his ability to heal, either by prolonging how long he could sustain a healing, or by flooding a wound with far more energy that he could naturally release. The latter came with an increased energy requirement, and or that fact alone, it likely wouldn¡¯t be something he used often. But in an emergency, it might allow him to heal what could otherwise be fatal.

    Quinten appeared to be one of those that received an increase in both power and in the speed of their casting. Neither was boosted to the same level as Cedric or Ronan, but he saw enough of both that Quinten was happy with the discovery. It was when he started experimenting with his new sword and his Gift, trying to recreate the shield-breaking attack he¡¯d accidentally used on Master Zekial, that things took a turn for the unexpected.

    ¡°Normally, a mage will channel their Gift into a piece of manadrite, where it is focused and returned to them at an increased potency. That is where the boost to power or speed comes from. In the end, it is still channeled through the mage.¡± Explained Master Zekial. ¡°This though¡­ I wasn¡¯t expecting.¡±

    ¡°This¡± being Quinten''s ability to cast through the blade.

    He¡¯d thought over the incident while his friends were tested, and believed he had an idea of how to replicate the attack. The shield exploded in a burst of energy, but not one of Elemental. With that in mind, he¡¯d channeled his Physical gift into the sword, watching as it shone with a faint blue light, barely visible under his close observation. His test strike left a shattered practice dummy and four pairs of ringing ears. The assistant having already left, with the on-lookers being kicked out of the room long before. Knowing the wooden dummy had been made to withstand hundreds of blows left Quinten feeling nauseous at the idea of actually hitting someone with such an attack.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to want to test out what else she can do.¡± The old man suggested before warning in a lower tone, ¡°And you probably want to do it where you have some privacy. These are the kinds of secrets that can save your life.¡±

    They are also the type of secrets that can get you killed, he thought.

    Shifting his gaze from staring at the sword Quinten looked at Master Zekial and asked. ¡°You keep calling it she, as if the sword is alive. Does she have a name?¡±

    The Quartermaster returned Quinten''s gaze with raised brows. ¡°Who¡¯s to say she¡¯s not? I made her, the finest I have ever created. If anyone would know, it¡¯d be me¡ªand of course, she has a name.¡±

    Quinten waited, hanging on the old smith¡¯s words. When new ones failed to come, he scowled as a grin broke through the man¡¯s salt and pepper beard.

    ¡°Her name¡ªis Astraea.¡±

    *****

    The Quartermaster took his leave of them then. Handing the trio off to another assistant with a clipboard that went down the list of standard equipment issued to Core mages. You could refuse an item and purchase a better quality one of your own, but the Mage Core did its best to ensure that none of its members went without the essentials.

    Cedric received the lone set of gift-imbued gear. As a shifter, he was given a set of battle robes that could shift with him, saving him from shredding his clothes and walking around immodestly until he could replace them after shifting back.

    The three young mages followed a pair of laborers as they pushed a cart loaded with their equipment through a set of heavy wooden doors leading to a large staging area. The sound of working men and the smell of horses and their waste met Quinten as he took in the open courtyard. Large supply wagons marked with the Mage Core symbol filled the space as men worked in the day¡¯s heat to load them. He sympathized, knowing things would only get worse as summer continued to settle in.

    ¡°Beg your pardon, my lords.¡± One of their guides said, ¡±You¡¯ll need to show the Sergeant your orders. He¡¯s the one who¡¯ll get your things added to their loading list.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Carl.¡± Said Cedric, palming the man a silver before ruining the subterfuge by flicking a second to his partner, the glint of metal reflecting the mid-day sun.

    Following the man¡¯s advice, they did as suggested. Signing over their gear for transport, receiving a numbered tag in return that indicated which wagon their items would be stored in.

    With the last task on their deployment check-list completed. They were free for the rest of the day. The supply train heading west not being scheduled to depart for another two days. Quinten was happy for the time. There were several things he wanted to pick up for the journey.

    *****

    After asking a nearby stableboy where they could find the closest exit, Quinten led his friends out of the side door, nearly knocking over the guard standing before it.

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, are you alright?¡±

    The guardsman turned, the back of his neck red in anger as he scowled at Quinten. Seeing their newly issued brown robes, indicating their status as Core mages, the man¡¯s expression quickly shifted.

    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble, my lords. It happens all the time. I wish they¡¯d put a latch on that thing, so I¡¯d be able to hear it when someone goes to open it.¡± Letting out a nervous laugh, he continued. ¡°Or better yet, they¡¯d just bar the star¡¯s cursed thing, and I wouldn¡¯t have to stand here.¡±

    Staring at the man and trying to process the flood of words, Quinten just nodded. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know where we can get something to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Q... Over here¡­¡±

    He stopped talking, hearing his name on the wind. Looking around, it only took him a moment to find the purple-robed figure standing atop the steps to a carriage near the headquarter¡¯s main entrance.

    Apologizing for bumping into the guard once more, he nodded in his grandfather¡¯s direction and the trio headed his way. Stepping down to the cobblestone street, Ed greeted them with a pained smile and a look of confusion at Ronan¡¯s presence.

    Quinten took a close look at the older man and wasn¡¯t happy with what he saw. Grandfather looked tired, appearing older than usual. He likely hadn¡¯t been using his Gift to smooth out the new lines around his mouth and the ruddy blotching coloring his face.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad I caught you. The rest of the Council stonewalled me when it came to your orders. The Archmage must have come down hard on them after voting to clear you.¡± Unable to hold back his curiosity any longer, he asked. ¡°Did you do something foolish, boy?¡± Raising a brow at Ronan¡¯s blushing face.

    ¡°Most likely,¡± he said with a small grin. ¡°Not that I regret it.¡±

    ¡°Now it makes sense¡­¡± Grandfather mumbled to himself.

    Shaking off the thought, he said, ¡°Let¡¯s hope it stays that way.¡± He looked at each of them in turn. ¡°While I couldn¡¯t change your orders, I found out what I could about your command. The Mage Regiment is being led by Mage Commander Taskin, Duke Alistair¡¯s cousin.¡±

    Quinten stifled a groan at the news, but the look his grandfather gave him said he had the right of it.

    ¡°It¡¯s a political appointment, assigned after the failure of the prince¡¯s campaign in the north. A way of earning back his honor and prestige as a leader.¡± Shaking his head, he sighed. ¡°He¡¯s a snake, boys. You would do well to keep your distance from him. More than one of his detractors has been given the opportunity of leading a charge and not surviving the honor.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Quinten, Ronan, and Cedric each nodded their understanding.

    Stepping forward, he pulled Quinten to the side, creating a tight pocket of air around only them. Looking him over, his grandfather took notice of his new sword. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a pretty piece of steel?¡± Quinten grinned. He placed his palm against the wide pommel, unable to resist touching it. He felt like a boy with his first practice sword. The buzzing sensation from earlier ran through his touch, quickly becoming a feeling of comfort.

    Grandfather paused, seeming to consider. He nodded to himself and pulled a ring from his finger, handing it over. Quinten recognized it instantly. He¡¯d seen it every day living with his grandparents. Polished gold, it bore the symbol of House Wycliff pressed into the bezel. Turning it over in his hand, Quinten''s head whipped up in shock.

    On the inside band of the ring, just behind the stylized image of a peregrine falcon, was a section of ring missing the gold-plating. In its place shimmered the blue-grey of manadrite.

    Smiling, Grandfather nodded. ¡°It¡¯s what you think. That ring has been in our family for generations. I want you to wear it. That sword will draw a lot of eyes and if you are ever separated from it, having this in reserve could save your life.¡±

    The worry and concern in his grandfather¡¯s voice hit Quinten hard. Reaching out, he pulled the older man in for a tight hug, getting a hard squeeze in return.

    ¡°Thank you. I will keep it close.¡±

    Giving one last squeeze, his grandfather stepped back and motioned to the carriage. ¡°I wanted a little more insurance than just some ring.¡± He said, breaking the privacy barrier around them. ¡°I¡¯m sending one more thing along with you. Thankfully, he made it here in time.¡±

    Quinten looked over to see Garrick stepping down from the carriage. Grinning, he approached the grizzled old master-at-arms. Breaking propriety, he gave the man a hug. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, old man. Grandfather is finally going to put you back to work. No more sitting by the fire getting fat, eh?¡±

    ¡°Sod off you little shi¡ªI mean, my lord,¡± replied Garrick with a wide smile of his own.

    Stepping back, Cedric and Garrick exchanged grips before Quinten introduced him to Ronan.

    ¡°So you are the one to blame for all the training exercises this big idiot has been making us do?¡± He asked as he gripped Garrick¡¯s outstretched wrist.

    The old soldier let out a belly laugh and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not taking all the blame for that. I wasn¡¯t his only instructor.¡± Eyes flicking to Cedric, he continued, ¡°Though it sounds like my lessons on how to throw a punch were taken to heart. The Archmage¡¯s son, lad? You grew into a pair, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Grinning, Cedric could only shrug. ¡°You use what you¡¯ve got. That¡¯s what you taught us, right?¡±

    ¡°Enough of that,¡± Grandfather said with a wave of his hand. ¡°You lot are heading off to war. It¡¯s only right that you do so on a full belly, and not that slop they serve you in the Core kitchens. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    The group made their way through the city streets. Busier now that the day was drawing to an end, giving way to night. Grandfather took them to a large and well lit building. The mouth watering smell of cooked meat and baked bread wafted through its open windows, setting Quinten''s stomach to growling its excitement.

    The tavern bustled with life, its low ceiling trapping in the scent of the cook fires that crackled in every corner. The smell of stew and baked bread filling the space. Wooden beams, darkened by years of smoke, stretched across the ceiling like the ribs of an old ship. The long tables were crowded with patrons, a mix of rough-looking soldiers, travelers, merchants, and locals enjoying a hearty meal.

    Quinten and his companions were seated near the main fire. Their new Mage Core robes and the purple that marked Grandfather as a Councilman, earning them a wide berth as they enjoyed their food. The tavern girls were sure to keep their cups full, doing their best to show off their¡ªassets¡ªat every opportunity.

    I wish I could see Izzy one more time before we leave, Quinten thought, watching a rather busty waitress walk by with four large steins held to her chest.

    Flick!

    ¡°Knock that off, boy. If you come back from war with a bastard, your grandmother would kill you,¡± Grandfather said with a prominent scowl as Quinten covered his throbbing ear.

    Laughing, Cedric leaned across the table and whispered, ¡°No need to worry about that, my lord. He can turn that bit of magic off whenever he chooses.¡± Wiggling his brows in insinuation.

    Grandfather looked at Quinten with his own brows raised, to which he received a small nod in acknowledgment. ¡°Huh, that¡¯s probably one I should have taught you. There was no need for it when I was your age. I never learned it.¡±

    Quinten winced. ¡°Can we talk about something else?¡± He asked with a shiver, earning a laugh from the rest of the table. Turning to Garrick, he asked. ¡°How¡¯d you get here so quickly? It had to have taken days for you to get here.¡±

    Instead of the man answering, Quinten''s grandfather spoke up. ¡°I sent a bird home to your grandmother as soon as I secured the votes needed to get you free. I didn¡¯t want her to worry. I had her send one to Henry for the same reason. Hopefully, the news of your release reaches him before he does something drastic.¡±

    Quinten rapped his knuckles against the wooden table, happy that his grandfather¡¯d brought up the subject.

    Raising a wall of air around their table every bit as tight and smooth as his grandfather had earlier, he asked. ¡°About the voting¡ªhow did you manage to secure enough to get us out?¡±

    Grandfather sighed, looking at those around the table. Quinten met his eyes levelly. He trusted his friends with his life and had no problem with them hearing what it¡¯d cost him.

    ¡°Council voting¡­ is complicated, as are most things at that level of decision within the kingdom. Nearly everything has some political ramification and it has only gotten worse since my return. Before my vote was deemed biased, which is a crock of starfire. Every vote is biased.¡± He said in a low tone that matched his brows.

    ¡°You already had the Healer, Selena¡¯s vote as soon as the Infirmary confirmed the poor girl''s condition. Petra, who oversees the Mage Core and Academy, initially voted for you but changed it overnight. I can only imagine the Archmage put pressure on her. I¡¯m sure similar events have happened in the Core that never made it into the public eye. If that fact became well known, no one would be comfortable sending their daughters to the Academy or the Core, not knowing it put them at risk. Her time on the Council would be short-lived. By voting against you, I can only imagine she was promised it wouldn¡¯t happen.¡±

    Clearing his throat, he downed the rest of his drink. ¡°We¡¯d have lost it then, and you¡¯d likely still be in a cage instead of enjoying this fine ale.¡± He said, motioning for the barmaid to fetch them another round.

    Quinten found himself frowning at his grandfather¡¯s hesitation until it clicked.

    This was where the true cost of his actions had to be paid, he realized.

    ¡°That same night¡ªI had a visitor. Reven came to see me¡­.¡± He said. Looking Quinten in the eye. ¡°She was willing to give you her vote if you agreed to help her in return sometime in the future.¡± A shiver wracked his body. ¡°Owing that woman anything is a terrifying prospect, and the promise I had to make on your behalf came without restrictions, but it was the only agreement she was willing to accept.¡± He said, his frustration with the situation evident.

    The barmaid, with perfect timing, chose that moment to approach their table. She paused just long enough for Grandfather to drop the privacy barrier before passing out her loaded tray. While everyone watched her, Quinten kept his gaze on the older man. He could tell that there was more, and potentially worse news to come.

    As his grandfather opened his mouth to continue. Quinten felt a tingle of regret and guilt settle into his stomach, turning the recent meal sour. His eyes narrowed, knowing where the emotion was coming from and that he¡¯d been right.

    ¡°The next two votes came at a cost¡­ thankfully, the same one.¡± Fidgeting with his newly filled glass, Grandfather slowly spun his drink as he stared into its depths. ¡°I mentioned how Council decisions are political? It¡¯s because many nobles have some sway over its members.¡±

    Looking at Ronan, he said. ¡°I went to your father first, hoping your friendship with these two would make him more inclined to help.¡± Ronan snorted, and Grandfather nodded, giving him a slight smile. ¡°I figured out that you¡¯d already been to see him, requesting the same thing. You can imagine how that conversation went.¡±

    ¡°Like I was there to witness it,¡± he said. Ronan¡¯s pained expression making it clear he understood.

    ¡°When that didn¡¯t work, I went to the Greve¡¯s estate directly. It¡¯s well known Althea makes the voting decisions for both of them. Without a Duke¡¯s influence, our best option was to appeal to her financial desires. They are many, and varied. And likely the reason she is now the Master of Coin.¡± Grimacing, he continued. ¡°It wasn¡¯t cheap, but I bought their votes with a percentage of the County¡¯s revenue for the next three years¡ªDon¡¯t make that face at me, boy. I¡¯d do it again if I had to.¡±

    Quinten continued to glare at him. ¡°And punish your people for my troubles? No, you will take it out of the investments I have with you and from the Earldom¡¯s accounts, if the first doesn¡¯t cover it. I¡¯m not letting anyone else pay for the decisions I make.¡±

    The two locked eyes in a contest of wills. Eventually, and to the surprise of those at the table, it was Grandfather who turned away in acquiescence. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll do as you¡¯ve ask.¡±

    Quinten nodded, letting the conversation draw to a close. But he wasn¡¯t fooled. The guilt and regret he was feeling from the man hadn¡¯t faded at all. If anything, it¡¯d only increased.

    *****

    Ed watched through the open window as the carriage pulled away, leaving his grandson and his friends behind.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell him.¡± Garrick said, a statement more than a question.

    Sighing, he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

    ¡°What would it have accomplished? You saw his reaction to the payments. How well do you think telling him that would have gone over?¡±

    Garrick¡¯s grunt turned into a low laugh. ¡°Terribly, my lord. I can see your point.¡±

    Drawing the curtain over the window in an attempt to help ward off the headache he could feel coming on, Ed sent a pulse of his Healing gift through his body to clear his mind.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell him, but not until after he returns. He¡¯ll have enough to keep him busy until then.¡± Frowning, he said without consideration. ¡°I hope it goes without saying, but I don¡¯t want him learning of it from you.¡±

    Garrick sat up straight, and Ed could tell he¡¯d offended the man. He just didn¡¯t have the energy to care, his face smoothing out as he donned a soldier¡¯s professionalism like a well-worn cloak.

    ¡°Of course, my lord.¡±

    Meeting the master-at-arm¡¯s eyes, Ed said, ¡°Thank you.¡±

    An awkward silence filled the carriage for several minutes before Garrick asked. ¡°What am I to do if he meets someone out west?¡±

    Closing his eyes once more, Ed rested his head against the padded wall beside him.

    ¡°As long as he doesn¡¯t try to marry them, leave them be. He has a few more years yet to enjoy himself before the debt comes due.¡±

 B1C44 - Departure

    Quinten dodged around a quartet of horses rushing past. The cart they pulled was heavily loaded with supplies, stacked to the brim in a way that would have been dangerous if they weren¡¯t strapped down.

    Weaving their way through the hive of activity. They navigated around groomsmen, soldiers, and laborers as they went about their duties, the entire staging ground a flurry of movement as the workers completed preparations for the supply train¡¯s departure.

    Catching a glimpse of an increasingly familiar brown, Quinten indicated their destination with a nod of his head.

    In one corner of the oversized courtyard, a cluster of Core mages stood together. Wary of obstacles, the trio made their way over, but a stern-looking woman at the front of the group saw them coming. Breaking away, she approached, stopping them several feet from the edge of the gathered mages. Her demeanor and the captain¡¯s rank stitched to the breast of her robe, the only thing differentiating her from the young women behind her.

    The woman eyed each of them thoroughly, the scowl never leaving her face. ¡°I am Captain Blackwell. And you Academy failures have now become my problem.¡±

    Quinten didn¡¯t know what Cedric or Ronan were feeling at that moment, but he could guess it was similar to his own annoyance. It hadn¡¯t escaped him that she¡¯d chosen to berate them well within hearing distance of the other mages. The slight breeze tickling the back of his neck told him it was likely intentional.

    ¡°It¡¯s because of you that the Council decided it needed to pull a Captain from their posting here in the Capital to manage this group. I hope you enjoy night watches and sentry duty.¡± She said, her irritation clear.

    Quinten sighed internally. It must have been one cushy posting to get a reaction like this.

    Tuning back into the woman, he heard, ¡°I don¡¯t have the time, nor the desire, to babysit you three. I¡¯ve been tasked with teaching you how the Mage Core works, so here it is. Shut your mouths and follow my orders until we get to Avoncross. Then I can hand you off and you become someone else¡¯s problem. Now, are there any questions¡ªNo? Great.¡± Captain Blackwell said, spinning on her heel and walking away.

    ¡°I am absolutely going to shit in that woman¡¯s bedding.¡± Cedric grumbled. Watching her walk away, angry with himself for enjoying the view.

    Quinten barked a laugh while Ronan¡¯s face pinched in disgust. ¡°I¡¯m actually impressed that she hates us before you opened your mouth,¡± he said, side-eying his friend.

    Grinning, Cedric shrugged and took the lead as they joined the nearby gaggle of chattering brown robes. A few moments later, Captain Blackwell addressed the assembly.

    ¡°Listen up, Mage Core!¡± Her augmented voice pushing back the chaotic sounds of horses, men, and loading wagons. ¡°As you know, we¡¯re heading west to join with our brothers and sisters in magic to defend our realm against the Drakovian Warlord and his hoard.¡± Her words were obvious, but hearing them spoken in such a fashion, with those they would be fighting beside all around them, had an effect all its own. ¡°It will take us several weeks to reach the frontier, and we have been tasked with providing aid where we can to the towns and villages along the way. There will be long days, and I¡¯m sorry to tell you, even longer nights. We will be covering the current battle strategies and tactics being employed by the Mage Commander to ensure you are prepared for when we arrive. Get yourselves sorted. We leave shortly.¡± She snapped a fist to her chest in salute, dismissing them, before turning and heading through the door behind her.

    A heavy silence hung over the group of mages as the gravity of where they were going and what lay before them set in. When the moment broke, it was like a newborn bird¡¯s first chirping after a long winter. More voices followed the first until the noise washed out everything around it like a forest full of wildlife. Unfortunately for Quinten, Cedric, and Ronan, hidden within that dark forest were predators, and as were their ways, they descended on the trio like a pack of hungry wolves.

    Quinten felt his hackles rise when a tall woman, who appeared a few years older than him, with brown hair that matched her Core robes, moved forward, getting close enough to make him uncomfortable.

    ¡°Are you him?¡± She asked, her long eyelashes fluttering as her wide brown eyes looked up at him.

    Taking a step back, he raised a brow. ¡°Him, who¡­?¡±

    Another woman, this one with long black hair that reached just above the curve of her back, stepped forward on his other side. ¡°Are you the one that knocked out the Archmage¡¯s son?¡±

    They were boxing him in, and Quinten felt a surge of danger. Not physical, but a fear of a different nature entirely. Taking another step backwards, he bumped into Cedric. Pulling his friend in front of him, he said. ¡°Uh¡­ no. He¡¯s the one that knocked him out.¡±

    A number of hungry eyes turned in Cedric¡¯s direction, and Quinten felt him stiffen through his hand on his friend¡¯s arm.

    ¡°I just punched him.¡± He said quickly. Trying to pull away from Quinten, he added. ¡°Q, here¡ªis the one who beat him in a duel.¡±

    Their focus shifted back, and Quinten could feel himself start to sweat under the collar of his outer robe. Pulling it open slightly, he drew on a little air to cool himself off.

    ¡°Stars above.¡± Someone yelled as they saw what lay beneath, their voice carrying over the giggling. ¡°Look at his sword.¡±

    Gasps rang out and the brown-haired girl exclaimed, ¡°That¡¯s the prince¡¯s blade!¡± Her eyes somehow growing even larger.

    Quinten groaned, Master Zekial, you star-cursed¡ªyou knew this would happen.

    Much to his annoyance, and the enjoyment of his friends. Quinten spent the next several minutes fielding questions as he tried to find a polite way to disengage from those surrounding him. Knowing he and these mages would be fighting side-by-side and relying on each other in the near future had him doing his best to remain polite.

    Patience worn thin, he grit his teeth and said. ¡°Excuse me, ladies, but I need to see a man about a horse before we depart.¡±

    Without waiting for a reply, he stepped away, pretending that he didn¡¯t see their frowns at his obvious excuse. Skirting the gathered women, he grabbed his two friends by their robes and forcibly steered them toward the front gates of the staging area.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Cedric stifled a laugh and Ronan grinned, asking. ¡°What man and what horse? You picked yours out yesterday.¡±

    Quinten chose to ignore the question, instead, focusing on the fastest path out of the courtyard and away from the nightmare of sirens behind him. He would never admit using his Gift to speed them along, but the pair¡¯s laughter let him know they already knew.

    *****

    On the March, West of Gremelda

    The road stretched before them, a winding ribbon of dirt and dust. Except for when it was a pit of mud and muck, forcing the train of supply wagons to slow to a miserable crawl. Luck was on their side today. The rhythmic clop of horse hooves mixed with the clatter of the wagons as they rolled steadily along, each laden with crates of provisions, weapons, and miscellaneous equipment.

    Quinten rode in the center of the caravan, his horse¡¯s hooves kicking up soft earth in its wake. He reached down and pat the young mare, rubbing its neck just the way it liked. Something he¡¯d learned over the last several weeks as he cared for the beautiful beast. At two years old, she was lean and still growing into her full frame. Her coat was all black, sleek and shiny except for a white star-shaped patch along her muzzle that¡¯d earned her the name Starbrite, or Star, as he¡¯d taken to calling her. With a thick mane and tail that was just beginning to flow. Her eyes were expressive, wide, and curious. And she moved with a grace that had instantly drawn him to her the first time he¡¯d seen her in the stockyards. Her playful nature coming out as she trotted around the enclosure.

    Gazing about, Quinten considered his fellow mages.

    Twenty-three of us, and the only boys being Cedric, Ronan, and I.

    They were currently riding in silence. Each enjoying the clear skies and bright sun during their brief break from Captain Blackwell¡¯s lectures, or as she kept referring to them, ¡°Treatise on the war in the West¡±.

    As questionable as the actual information was, one service it did provide was as a distraction. Without something the focus on, the faces of the young mages were drawn. A combination of road weariness and the quiet tension of those contemplating their fates. The three young men were not exempt from those thoughts. It was one thing to hear about war, and even Quinten, having experienced it before, wasn¡¯t sure he was entirely prepared for what was to come.

    Another thing he hadn¡¯t been ready for was the game of ¡°catch the male mage¡¯s eye¡± his fellow mages decided to play. It was barely an hour into the first day¡¯s march that a blond with too many teeth rode up beside Quinten. He¡¯d gently shot her down, but the advances continued to come.

    The fact that none of their efforts bore fruit had led to some interesting rumors. The one he thought the funniest, being that they simply enjoyed each other¡¯s company more than they should.

    Quinten had to admit. It was mostly bad timing on their part. Other than Ronan, who simply wasn¡¯t interested. At any other time, Cedric and Quinten may have been. The former had admitted one night around their fire, after those still willing to make an attempt had left, that he still felt a little raw after Celeste. Quinten, while not scarred like his friend, was confused in his own right. His brief relationship with Izzy had been amazing and although no promises had ever been made. He could admit to still thinking of her at night in his tent. It would have felt wrong to encourage any of the Core mages traveling with him, even if his swiftly improving empathic ability to sense other¡¯s feelings didn¡¯t clue him into their motivations.

    The long hours in the saddle provided him with plenty of time to experiment with Empathy, something he found surprisingly difficult to convince himself to do. The idea of knowing what everyone around him was feeling sounded great, but he¡¯d come to discover that wasn¡¯t always the case. More than once, an accidental reading, what he¡¯d come to think of the emotional flare-ups he sensed from others, had changed the way he viewed someone after experiencing what they were feeling.

    He started slow, experimenting through trial and error to figure out how Empathy worked. Unlike his other Gifts, he had no guidance on where to begin. His first success came while meditating in the saddle during the second week of their journey. He felt a shift in his perceptions just before a wave of restlessness surged from his left and shattering his concentration. It slammed into him and made him sway unsteadily in the saddle.

    When Quinten opened his eyes, he turned to see Cedric practically dancing on his horse as he shifted from side-to-side. It was confirmation enough for Quinten that what he was feeling was real. He closed his eyes once more and focused on chasing down that same sensation. Hoping that the next emotion would reach him a little more controlled.

    As they traveled, Quinten continued to practice. Meditation helped him sense the presence of those around him. From there, he could reach out mentally and establish a link between the other person and himself. At first, the connection was unstable. The emotions he sensed were hard to understand, or so overpowering he couldn¡¯t tell which emotion was foreign or his own.

    The last several weeks of effort resulted in a number of findings involving Empathy. Like his other Gifts, once he began to use and understand it, the ability would laid dormant until he actively reached for it. It was only when emotions spiked¡ªanger, fear, sadness¡ªthat the ability tried to push its way to his senses unbidden. His current focus involved maintaining a light use of the ability to control the intensity of what he felt in an attempt to keep the emotions from overwhelming him.

    His desire for control was born out of his most recent discovery, that physical contact created an empathic link far stronger than any he¡¯d experienced to that point.

    Mage Lastrel found Quinten in his tent a couple of nights earlier as he prepared for that evening¡¯s watch shift. True to her word, Captain Blackwell scheduled Ronan, Cedric, and himself for nearly a third-again as many night watches as the other mages. The rotation schedule was posted publicly, and the captain made no attempt to hide her displeasure with the three.

    ¡°It¡¯s not fair what she¡¯s doing to you.¡± Said Lastrel as she leaned against the pole supporting the door flap.

    Striking in her appearance, she had her sleek black hair cut short, just past her jaw line. Contrasting the normal trend of women keeping their hair long. Her pale blue eyes were as piercing as they were memorable. Quinten remembered looking up several times from a task to find her watching him. She¡¯d made no qualms about her interest thus far and he was unsurprised by her presence in his tent.

    ¡°Life is rarely fair,¡± he replied as he arranged his gear.

    Lastrel grunted in agreement, eyes tracking him as he moved around his small tent. ¡°You aren¡¯t married yet.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question.

    Meeting her gaze, he paused in tying his waterskin to his pack. ¡°You know I¡¯m not.¡±

    ¡°Betrothed?¡± She asked, her eyes gleaming with hunger.

    Sighing, having weathered enough comments of a similar nature that he no longer felt uncomfortable with this level of forwardness, he shook his head.

    ¡°Neither am I¡ªand we¡¯re going to be traveling together for another month. That¡¯s a long time to spend alone when you don¡¯t need to be.¡±

    Seeing this as another opportunity to practice, Quinten tried to create a link between them. But what he sensed came back garbled and unreadable. Distracted, he missed it as she stepped away from the pole and further into his tent, taking his lack of response as permission.

    When she reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, the connection he¡¯d been struggling with snapped into place. Her emotions crashing into Quinten''s mind. Desire¡ªcuriosity¡­ and interest. He slammed the connection shut, reeling, as he stumbled backwards and fell on his ass.

    Momentarily stunned, Lastrel stared at him with wide eyes before she knelt before him. The playfulness and desire she¡¯d let show was gone, behind a look of genuine concern that he could feel radiating through the closed but not severed link.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he grunted, thinking quickly. ¡°I think you may be right. Too many night watches and not enough sleep.¡±

    Frowning, she rose to her feet. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not on for a few days. I¡¯ll take your watch tonight. You probably want your Healer friend to take a look at you too.¡±

    Slowly climbing back to his feet, he smiled and inclined his head. ¡°I will. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°With a smile like that, just remember that you owe me.¡± She said with a wink as she backed out of his tent.

    Quinten had been grateful for the night off and appreciated her willingness to help. The fact that his read on her emotions told him that she was only interested in him, and not for anything political, reawakened a bit of that nervousness he¡¯d had when the trip started. He wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d take her up on her offer, but he would find some way to repay her for the kindness and for teaching him something new about his Gift.

 No Chapter Today

    I¡¯ve been down with the Flu since Monday and while I¡¯ve tried to work on today¡¯s chapter, I wasn¡¯t able to get it done.

    this is to hit the 500 minimum words count.

    a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p a b c d e f g h I j k l m n o p Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

 B1C45 - Darrowford

    Darrowford Village

    The village of Darrowford had seen better days. Nestled against the riverbank, repeated seasons of heavy flooding had turned its once sturdy wooden bridge into a sagging, worn down affair. The roads leading into town were more dirt and mud than stone. With the few remaining cobblestones becoming more of a hindrance than doing anything to help.

    No wonder this village requested aid from the Core, Quinten thought as he carefully led Ronan and Cedric across the village¡¯s main bridge, exceedingly mindful of its current state.

    ¡°Do you think Blackwell knew how bad this place was when she sent just the three of us? Stars above. We could have at least used Garrick with us. He could strap us to our horses for the ride back. We¡¯re likely to fall off in exhaustion by the looks of this place,¡± complained Cedric as he guided his horse around a particularly weak looking portion of wooden planks. The clip-clop of their horses echoing across the river.

    Ronan sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling even without un-augmented senses. They could almost taste the sourness of unwashed bodies, the sick, and of animals kept far closer than they should be. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll have enough in me to take care of all their sick. You should decide who¡¯s helping me now. That way you won¡¯t have to when you¡¯re tired and crabby.¡± The truth that lay within his joke garnered a laugh from his friends. ¡°How did the local Baron let it get this bad?¡± He added after a moment.

    ¡°I have no idea. Neither of my grandfathers would have waited this long to relocate these people.¡± Guiding Star with the gentle pressure of his knees, he marveled at how well she¡¯d taken to her training. ¡°We¡¯ll do what we can and make a report about what we¡¯ve seen. Maybe someone will come and investigate. Sadly, I doubt it.¡± Quinten said, shaking his head.

    Over the last few weeks, they had been dispatched to help a number of villages and towns during their journey west. Each kept detailed records of all requests needing mage assistance. These lists would continue to grow until a contingent of Core mages passed through. The work honestly wasn¡¯t much different from what his grandfathers hired poorer mages to do in their own lands. Based on what Q¡¯d seen so far, it seemed they were unique in that effort. The counties their supply caravan passed through to this point were all in need of aid, waiting solely on the Mage Core to fix their problems.

    It wasn¡¯t a sustainable model, and it gave Quinten a whole new appreciation for the lengths his family went to managing their lands.

    They each let out a breath of relief when their horses were back on solid, if muddy ground. Their approach and distinctive brown Core robes had been noticed and a crowd already gathered at the village center. The villagers themselves matched the surrounding buildings, appearing just as worn down and in need of repair.

    Quinten dismounted Star. Patting her neck, he fished an apple out of his satchel and broke it into quarters with a quick pulse of his gift. He fed the mare one piece at a time while he inspected the assembled villagers, using it as an opportunity to scan them with Empathy.

    Exhaustion and sadness were the prevailing emotions, and buried beneath them was only the smallest spark of hope while the group stared at the new arrivals.

    Quinten gave Star one last rub before leading the horse forward. Let¡¯s see what we can do here.

    The village¡¯s needs weren¡¯t much different from the others they¡¯d helped, just on a larger scale. Several people started crying when they learned that Ronan could heal, even if he wasn¡¯t an official Healer yet. Headman Carter dispatched a number of runners to gather those that needed healing. The young mages shocked them all when he asked to be taken to those worst off. This went contrary to every prior experience they¡¯d had with nobles, let alone a mage. They never considered he would be willing to travel to and enter the homes of their poor. As he was being led away, the headman, Quinten, and Cedric discussed the badly needed repairs. They quickly realized they would need to prioritize what they could accomplish with just the two of them.

    They started with the bridge. it was the main way into the village and it was in terrible condition. Wood rot warped and degraded the structure where the stone wasn¡¯t already crumbling. Deciding that Quinten would focus on his Elemental Gift, using earth manipulation to set Cedric up to Transmute it to stone, splitting the workload. They stripped down to their breeches, not wanting to waste their magic on drying and cleaning their robes. Not when they had so much else to do that day.

    The pair noticed, with a combination of humor and embarrassment, that the villages young, and those without a duty demanding their attention, were now perched atop the bridge watching the two young mages with curiosity, interest, and even a little awe.

    Beginning at the bridge¡¯s base, Quinten guided the river water around them while they visually inspected the foundation. Where the water had worn away stone, Quinten raised a layer of earth. Refilling the gaps and cracks which Cedric, following along, turned the fresh layer of mud into basalt rock. The Core¡¯s recommended choice because of its resistance to wear and tear.

    It took them over an hour to repair the bridge¡¯s foundation. The longer they worked, the angrier Quinten became. This travesty was on its last legs. Whoever built it deserves to be condemned and it should have been torn down and rebuilt long ago. I¡¯m amazed the thing hadn¡¯t given way already.

    The watching villagers mutter amongst themselves, getting particularly vocal when Cedric transmuted a largely visible section of earth. A substantial piece of driftwood came floating down the river at one point, heading straight toward the narrowly focused mages. Cedric, currently waiting for Quinten to raise another earthen layer, took notice of the yelling crowd first. He followed their pointing arms to the fast approaching danger.

    Cedric took hold of the dried out old tree with his mind, ensuring that the strength of the natural flow of water, even shifted as Quinten currently had it, would be enough to push the white-washed oak far enough to the side that it¡¯d pass them by.

    With their repairs to the bridge¡¯s foundation complete. Quinten boosted his voice and asked for the spectators to clear the area. He proceeded to walk down the center of the bridge, pushing a wave of water before him, washing away the old mud, dirt, and manure coating the warped wooden planks. He pulled a second stream of water from the river, this time using his earth manipulation to pull with it what he needed. The minerals and the water came into contact with the old, rotted wooden planks. Using his Gift to bring each plank life, he commanded them to suck in the nutrients, restoring their strength and functionality. He would have preferred to turn the entire bridge to stone, but by leaving it made of wood, he left the possibility that future repairs could be done by someone other than a mage.

    They were just finishing up when a trio of young women separated from the onlookers and approached them. The feeling of desire coming off of them strong enough that Quinten could sense it, even without actively using his gift. This desire felt off, though, and it took him a moment to realize why. It wasn¡¯t sexual desire he felt. Or at least not just sexual desire. Over-powering it was a sense of greed. These young ladies wanted them, sure. But what they wanted even more was to have a Gifted child. Quinten understood the motivation, even if it left him feeling soiled. The truth was. A child from one of them was likely their best option to get out of this shit hole.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    I¡¯ll have to warn him, just in case he¡¯s finally over Celeste. He thought, watching Cedric¡¯s gaze sweep over the women.

    ¡°Thank you for all your hard effort, lord mages.¡± Said one of the women. Her long flaxen hair done up in a coiled braid that highlighted her long neck. ¡°The village is putting together a lunch for you and the Healer. May we show you the way?¡±

    Cedric and Quinten traded knowing glances, but accepted the offer. Asking for a few minutes to clean themselves up. They walked down to the river where Quinten hit them each with a blast of water before wicking it off their skin and pulling the liquid from their breeches to dry them.

    Subtly casting a wind barrier, Quinten said. ¡°If you feel like taking anyone here up on their¡ª¡±

    ¡°Offer? Cedric suggested when Quinten struggled to come up with a proper word.

    Nodding his thanks, he continued, ¡°That¡ªThey¡¯re really only after one thing from us and it¡¯s not for a fun roll in the hay.¡± Pausing to think it over, he scratched at his stubbled chin. ¡°Well, not really.¡±

    Sighing, Cedric dipped his head. ¡°Yea, it¡¯s our babies they want.¡± He pinched his nose and said. ¡°I could smell something was off.¡±

    Quinten raised a brow. ¡°You could pick that up? I didn¡¯t realize you were still testing out your augmented sniffer.¡±

    Cedric mimed pushing Quinten into the river and they both laughed. ¡°Too many kids to keep the ears running. It got too loud. I figured that this far away from the village, boosting my nose was a safe alternative.¡±

    ¡°Good call. I don¡¯t know about you, but I¡¯m starving.¡±

    Freshly cleaned, they donned their outer robes and rejoined their three guides and the gaggle of village children sprinting around them, pretending that they too were Gifted. Quinten focused on the joy and glee radiating from them. Rather than the tainted desire rolling off the older ladies. Who, it seemed, enjoyed both their show of magic and the spectacle of watching them bathe.

    Edith, Nell, and Alice eagerly tried to pry information from the two as they walked toward the village center, but Quinten and Cedric, with practiced ease, answered in general platitudes. By the time their rapidly growing group reached the main hall, the women¡¯s efforts yielded little. Inside, they spotted Ronan already seated, with what had to be the rest of the village¡¯s available women crowded around him, staring at him with stars in their eyes. The pair shared a grin before making their way over to join their friend.

    It was customary for the area receiving aid to provide food and lodging for the mages during their stay, and Quinten glanced at the smiling young women around them. Remembering the motivations he¡¯d felt earlier, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if these gatherings also served as an opportunity to expose young mages to interested women that were hoping for a payday from the crown if their luck bore fruit.

    Breaking open a loaf of bread, Quinten leaned in so he could be heard without shouting and asked Ronan about his morning. ¡°Heartbreaking, really,¡± said his friend. ¡°I¡¯ve had to re-break so many bones to set them properly that I¡¯ve lost count.¡±

    Quinten frowned at the thought. The idea made him feel a bit queasy. Sighing, he shook his head. They would fix what they could before moving on the next day, leaving the village to fend for itself until the next time the Core passed by. It¡¯s a never-ending cycle. Like slapping on a bandage but leaving the wound beneath to fester, Quinten thought.

    He was pulled from his thoughts as a hand settled on his thigh. A wave of emotions slammed into his unprepared senses. They contained the same mix of greed and desire from earlier. But, there is a healthy dose of attraction and.. jealousy¡ªno, competitiveness. Quinten jerked back, breaking the connection. His eyes tracked the hand back to its owner with a frown.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard that younger men can be a bit dense. I wanted to clear up any doubt that you are welcome to stay with me tonight,¡± Alice said with a predatory edge to the teeth showing through her smile.

    Quinten, still shaken from the barrage of unexpected emotions, was taken aback at her forwardness. You would think I¡¯d have grown used to this by now, he thought as he eyed the cute lady beside him. Her golden-brown hair reflecting the midday light coming through the open windows.By her own admission, they were the same age, but between Quinten''s Gifts and the rougher life she¡¯d led, she appeared a few years his senior.

    He forced a smile. ¡°Thank you, Alice. But we still have much to do today, and I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll be up for company by the time we¡¯re done.¡±

    Alice nodded, accepting his rebuff, but pushed forward, nonetheless. ¡°I¡¯ll find you tonight after dinner. We¡¯ll see how you are feeling then.¡± Rising from the bench they shared, she made her way from the hall.

    Her vacant seat was quickly filled. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your time with her, my lord mage. She¡¯s used goods. I am untouched¡ª¡±

    Quinten tuned out the woman. He would later feel a touch of guilt for his lack of respect. Pushing away his empty plate with a sigh, he couldn¡¯t help thinking that it was going to be a long fucking day.

    Several hours passed, but Cedric and Quinten managed to work their way through the village¡¯s highest priority issues. Several new wells were dug, buildings reinforced, and Quinten even had enough energy left over to raise and reinforce the current embankment to help combat future flooding.

    The three young men currently soaked in one of the few luxuries their hosts had to offer, a heated communal bath. After working long into the afternoon, Headman Carter¡¯s offer to stay the night was an easy one to accept.

    ¡°Uggggghhh,¡± Cedric groaned as he placed a hot, wet rag over his face. ¡°Q, can you turn up the heat a little?¡±

    Without opening his eyes, Quinten conjured a flame beneath the bath and circulated the water to disperse it evenly. He sunk into the water until only his head remained exposed.

    ¡°Anyone else happy we¡¯re alone for this? I don¡¯t think I could handle roaming hands at the moment.¡± Ronan commented as he ran a comb through his hair. After a day of intensive healing, he had more blood and other peoples fluids on him than he wanted to think about. He¡¯d been gracious enough to ask Quinten for a quick rinse before joining them in the tub. But the thought of someone touching him right now was too much to bear.

    Cedric grunted, ¡°They are awful friendly here, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°We know what they want. It¡¯s the quickest way to a better life for them.¡± Quinten said, pausing for a moment. He looked at his friend in concern. The question banging around in his mind for some time now. ¡°Ronan, what is your plan for marriage? I don¡¯t think the fact you aren¡¯t attracted to women is going to absolve you of the King¡¯s mandates. They are going to demand you marry and have children.¡±

    He was quiet for several minutes as Quinten and Cedric let him think. Eventually, he answered. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated. You¡¯re right though, I¡¯m not exempt. And even if I was, my father would never let that stand.¡± Frowning, his brows drawn low, he continued. ¡°My parents were in talks with several families that are aware of my affections. Though, I¡¯m not sure if he¡¯ll even consider me his heir, let alone his son, once he hears about me leaving the Academy. The issue has always been over what happens after marriage.¡± Ronan sighed. ¡°We will have to consummate the marriage, of course, and they¡¯ll need to provide an heir, plus the additional children required by the mandates. Who inherits is already going to be a problem, but what happens if they take a lover and become pregnant? If they do not, will they be forced to remain alone? What kind of life is that to force on someone¡­?¡± The pain and self-loathing evident in his voice as he ducked his head under the water.

    Cedric and Quinten traded a look, unsure of how to help ease their friend¡¯s mind. When he resurfaced, it was Cedric who broke the silence. ¡°Can you find wives attracted to other woman?¡±

    Summoning a tendril of water, Quinten was about to spray it into his friend¡¯s face for his poor choice of timing, when Cedric raised his hands in defense, ¡°Hey, I¡¯m serious. Think about it. If they were attracted to other women, then they¡¯d have each other or at least could find someone, another woman. You wouldn¡¯t have to worry about bastard children or about sentencing your future wives to a life of loneliness.¡±

    Quinten paused, and after a moment¡¯s thought. He let the water fall back into the tub. He turned to Ronan and asked, ¡°That¡¯s¡­ actually, not a bad suggestion. Is that possible?¡±

    They watched as Ronan frowned in consideration. ¡°It might be? I¡¯m not sure if it would ever be appropriate to ask their families if they are attracted to women.¡±

    ¡°Once your family narrows your prospects down to a manageable number. Make their consideration contingent on a private meeting between the two of you. It would be nice to meet someone you could potentially be spending the rest of your life with, anyway. If you feel like you could get along with them, that¡¯s when you broach the subject.¡±

    While the other two continued to brainstorm ways to bring up such a delicate topic, Quinten fully submerged himself in the tub, holding his breath while he wondered about his own marriage prospects. His thoughts immediately went to Izzy, but he pushed the mental image of her away. Instead, considered the guilt and shame his grandfather had felt during his departure. He may already have a promised bride. It seemed a likely request that someone powerful enough to sway a council vote could make and expect to be fulfilled.

    Letting out the last of his breath, He watched as the air bubbles rose. That¡¯s one bridge that I¡¯ll cross when I have to, he thought.

 B1C46 - Poisoned

    Like the mid-day meal, dinner was held in the main hall with what looked like the village in its entirety. The fare was basic, but their heavy use of magic and the physical demands of the day made even the blandest food taste like it was fit for a king. In contrast to the earlier meal, instead of sitting at one of the many tables among the villagers, they were led to sit at the main table as guests of honor with the Headman and the village elders. As custom demanded, each of the villagers brought a dish, offering it to Quinten, Ronan, and Cedric first, as a thank you for their service. It didn¡¯t take long for the three to grow full, even when they took as small a portion as they could, and not give offense. They were each happy to see the line of food bearers start to dwindle.

    They made polite conversation with the elders and headman, asking one last time if there was anything else the village truly needed before they left in the morning. Headmen Carter assured them that they had done far more than expected and the village already felt indebted to them. The praise made them uncomfortable, but after all they¡¯d done that day. Agreeing that they¡¯d made a difference hardly felt boastful.

    After everyone had eaten their fill, plates and platters were removed before the tables were pushed back and instruments were brought out. The trilling of a flute and the bright sound of pipes filled the air and tambours beat a tune on their leather wrapped wooden frames. One by one, the three young men were pulled from their seats and into the chaos filling the newly created dance floor.

    They spent the next couple of hours in a swirl of skirts and ale as they were led around the hall by their partners. Quinten found himself relieved that Alice hadn¡¯t made an appearance. He didn¡¯t have the energy to deal with her advances. The remembered feeling from when she¡¯d touched his thigh sent a small shiver down his spine. He was enjoying himself, and would rather avoid any more unpleasantness. His luck continued to hold for another hour or so, before the blonde-headed woman made her presence known. Popping out from nowhere just as his current dance partner, a lovely woman in her late forties, named Ilma. Who had warned him half a dozen times that were he a few decades older or her a few younger, he¡¯d have been hers for the evening, returned him to the high table.

    ¡°May I tempt you with a dance, my lord?¡± Alice asked, looking up at him with a flushed face that set off her light green dress and made her eyes shine.

    Groaning internally, Quinten couldn¡¯t think of a polite way to decline without offending the woman and possibly the elders still seated at the table. He hadn¡¯t turned down a single request that evening and felt that doing so now would be noticed. Quinten took a swig of ale, frowning at the bitter taste as he finished off the remainder of his cup. Reluctantly, he held out his arm for her to take.

    Throughout the evening, Quinten had been practicing his ability to control the emotions he let in when in contact with someone. The shock he¡¯d received from Alice earlier highlighted an area he still needed to improve on. His numerous dance partners were the perfect opportunity to work on his control. Taking Alice¡¯s hand, Quinten created a slight opening in the mental wall he¡¯d erected to keep out unwanted feelings, and her emotions immediately started trickling in.

    Is she nervous..? Or is that anxiety? Quinten thought, confused by what he was feeling. It was so different from the excitement, attraction, and lust he¡¯d felt earlier in the day. If he didn¡¯t know better. He¡¯d think it was a different person.

    The carrying pitch of the pipes rang throughout the hall, and the tabor beat the cadence for a fast-paced chain dance. Their connection broke as they unclasped hands. Quinten following the leader of the dance as Alice slipped a hand around the belt at his back. All too aware of her touch, he was glad he wasn¡¯t wearing his sword. He, Cedric, and Ronan having managed to drop off their gear in the guest lodge before dinner. Quinten snaked his way around the villagers running by in the second chain. His vision blurred slightly during the next portion, a series of twists, turns, and spins that put him back in contact with Alice.

    His head oddly light, Quinten tried to process what she was feeling. She¡¯s definitely worried about something, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s me¡ª

    ¡°Are you having fun, my lord? It¡¯s not every night you get to experience a village celebration.¡± Alice called over the music, interrupting Quinten''s thoughts.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    He looked into her eyes, unable to find any of the emotions he felt¡ªbut couldn¡¯t see. Instead, a pair of bright green eyes sparkled in the lantern light. Finally, he replied with an unbalanced smile. ¡°We had a ball at the Academy not long ago, but it turned into a¡­ long night. This has been a very nice way to end the evening.¡±

    She bobbed her head as they wormed their way through the last leg of the dance, their chain coming to an end. Quinten began to wonder if he¡¯d drank or danced too much when his fellow dancers started going in and out of focus. He unwound his interlocked arm from Alice¡¯s once they cleared the dance floor. Searching the gathering, he met his friend¡¯s gaze from across the hall. Quinten indicated with his head toward the doors, letting Ronan know he was ready to leave. He nodded and started making his way through the throng of people. Quinten assumed he¡¯d gone to grab Cedric and, in his distraction, turned too quickly, nearly knocking Alice over when she¡¯d slid in close.

    ¡°Are you ready to leave?¡± She asked, turning into him to give a better view of her cleavage on display.

    ¡°I am,¡± Quinten said, with focused enunciation. ¡°Ronan is grabbing Cedric and we are going to call it a night.¡± He tried to shift around her, but she moved in step and managed to stay beside him.

    ¡°Did you think about my offer? I promise, it will be a night you¡¯ll never forget.¡±

    Coming to a stop, Quinten stared at the woman. Something is wrong with this one¡ªby the stars¡ªsomething is wrong with me. He realized with a sway, even his thoughts growing sluggish. Reaching for his Gift, Quinten shoved it through his system in an attempt to fight off whatever poison he¡¯d been given.

    With his mind a little clearer, and his movements slightly more under his control, he said, intentionally slurring his words. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Alice. Appreciate the offer, I really do. But I¡¯m not feeling well. Too much ale, I think? If you¡¯d excuse me, have a good rest of your night.¡±

    He started forward again, coming to a stop when she slipped in front of him. ¡°Are you sure, my Lord? You¡¯ve never had someone like me before. I promise, you¡¯ll wake up tomorrow a new man.¡±

    Quinten could feel his gorge rising, either due to her words, or from the poison his Gift was working to cleanse.

    Something is wrong.

    Stumbling past the woman, he ignored her question, instead focusing on keeping his dinner down while he shambled away. He¡¯d made it twenty paces when Alice called. ¡°You¡¯re staying at the guest lodge, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Quinten continued to ignore her. He managed to turn a corner before violently throwing up everything he¡¯d ate or drank in the last several hours. Using the wall of the building for support, he continued to their quarters, where he hoped Cedric and Ronan would meet him soon.

    He needed to warn them.

    *****

    Five Hours Earlier

    Alice slipped out of the main hall, licking her lips as she imagined a fun night with the dashing mage¡ªand if the stars bless me, and a babe comes from our meeting¡ªthe gold it¡¯d bring!

    A shiver ran through her as she hurried down the street. She¡¯d have just enough time to smooth the wrinkles from her best dress. If she was quick enough, she might even have time to wash and style her hair.

    She slipped through the plain wooden door and rushed over to the dented wooden box that held all of her prized possessions.

    Lifting the lid, she yanked off the old worn sheet she¡¯d draped across the interior of the box. Alice reached inside and carefully withdrew the faded, but still in decent condition, dress her mother made the year before she¡¯d passed. Its green dye had lightened from a forest to a moss green that still set off her eyes, even if the color no longer matched perfectly.

    A sound from behind had her standing up with a startled gasp. The hand clamping around her mouth forcefully muting the scream at what she saw.

    Two figures, all in black with even their faces covered, stood before her.

    ¡°This her?¡± Came the rough voice of the man currently holding her jaw shut.

    Alice closed her eyes, but it did nothing to stop the fear coursing through her. Shaking, she began to hyperventilate behind the man¡¯s rough palm.

    ¡°Ease off. She¡¯s no good to us if she¡¯s dead.¡± Said one of the pair. This one¡¯s voice sounded clearly female.

    Grunting, the man loosened his hold slightly, enough that she could draw in a few ragged breaths.

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t me.¡± Grunted the man. ¡°She¡¯s freaking out on her own. You sure she can handle it? She¡¯s too scared to even talk to us, let alone do what we need.¡±

    A laugh echoed through the small dwelling. ¡°Oh, she can handle it alright. She¡¯ll do anything for a price. Won¡¯t you, Alice?¡±

    She jerked at the mention of her name, but upon hearing that they needed her alive and at the mention of payment. Her mind fought its way through the fear.

    Slowly, she settled. The big man behind her easing his grip when it became clear she wasn¡¯t about to scream. After several deep breaths, she eventually forced out in a wavering voice.

    ¡°What do you want?¡±

    The figure on the left sidled forward, bending over slightly so they were at eye-level. Her blue eye sparkling from behind the woman¡¯s black mask, appearing like twinkling stars in a clear night sky.

    ¡°The same thing you do, little fox. We want the boy.¡±

 B1C47- Assassins

    Quinten awoke with a jerk. Sitting up in bed, he tried to process the last thing he could remember.

    He¡¯d made it back to the guest lodge, throwing up in the garden bed beside the door. Having already expelled anything solid, the second time came with the burn of stomach acid.

    Starfire! I passed out before they got back.

    It was only then that Quinten realized that he hadn¡¯t woken up on his own. The heavy pounding of his heart and the excitement pumping through his veins were not his own. And it was paired with a bloodthirstiness that Quinten had never experienced before. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. Through his Gift, he could sense the unfamiliar presence of several different sets of emotions surrounding the visitor''s lodge. It was from them that he could feel a growing mix of excitement and anticipation.

    Augmenting his vision to better see in the low light, Quinten slid out of bed. He crouched low and worked his way towards where his sword hung off the back of a chair. He could feel Ronan and Cedric in the rooms beside his own. Their muffled emotions telling him that they were sound asleep. Freezing at the sensation, Quinten felt a spike of excitement from outside.

    Shit!

    Cupping his hands around his mouth, Quinten pushed energy into his vocal cords and yelled, ¡°Wake up! We¡¯re under attack!¡±

    He rose from his crouch and drew his sword, leaving the sheath tied to the back of the chair. The blue veins shimmering in the moonlight streaming through his window. A loud thud came from the room next door as someone fell out of bed and hit the hard wooden floors.

    Ronan? Quinten thought, trying to remember who was on which side. Whomever it was, continued scrambling across the floor. The sound ending in a solid thump against the wall separating them. The noise repeated a few more times before it finally clicked for Quinten that they were knocking on the wall like a door.

    Definitely Ronan. Placing his hand on the wall, he shaped an opening in the wood that allowed a bedraggled head of copper hair to slither through.

    His friend rolled over and looked up at Quinten with wide and fearful eyes. ¡°By the stars, what is going on?¡±

    Before Quinten could respond. A blast from next door rocked the room just as his own door exploded inward with a loud boom, shattering against the wooden wall Quinten raised from the floorboards to cover them. He could feel the door turned shrapnel deflecting off the wooden barrier. The pounding of heavy boots echoed through the immediate silence following the blast.

    That was magic¡­ Who in the starless night would be attacking us with magic?

    His heart pounding, he rose from his crouch. Quinten channeled his gift through his blade, causing it to sing, and let loose a jet of flame that engulfed the wall and the figures streaming through the ruined doorway. A wall of water rose to give them some protection from the heat, creating a cloud of boiling steam. It successfully obscured their movements and saved them from the flames. Though pained cries still came from the throats of both men and women.

    Quinten sucked the heat from the water and steam, coating the other side of the room in frost and a layer of ice, slowing the assassins as they fought through the obstruction. He immediately felt it as another mage wrestled to take control of the ice. Pushing his gift through his body, Quinten used it to steady his hands and dash forward. Driving his sword through the chest of the closest attacker before they could react. His blade shattering the thin layer of ice formed across their chest. This close, he was able to get his first real look at their assailants.

    There were four of them. Dressed all in black with even their faces covered. Each was strapped with blades all along their body. He knew he¡¯d heard a woman¡¯s voice cry out earlier, but only then did he realize that based on the figure and the cut of their clothes, Quinten had just killed a woman. He watched as the excited glee dimmed from her eyes, replaced with the dawning horror that she was about to die.

    Ronan¡¯s whimpering and the roar that echoed through the building brought him back to the moment. Letting Quinten know Cedric had shifted and dealing with his own problems. Ripping his blade free, blood spurted from the wound, directly into his face. The iron taste shocked him as it ran into his mouth, breaking what remained of his control over the ice.

    The woman¡¯s body fell, bringing with it a wail of agony and a flurry of motion from the attackers. Shards of ice broke off the wall, shooting towards Quinten and Ronan.

    He let out another jet of flame, this time through his ring. Controlling the burst, he created a protective barrier rotating around them and their wooden shield, melting the projectiles before they could reach them. The flames rushed out in a wave toward their assailants with a mental shove. The mage controlling the ice backed through the doorway for protection, with the other two leaping over the flood of fire.

    Must have Physical Gifts, Quinten thought. He watched as they cleared his attack and landed with far more grace and speed than a normal person could manage. The moment their feet touched the ground, they were moving. Sprinting toward Quinten with swords raised.

    That¡¯s at least three mages. We need to end this quick before they overwhelm us.

    Since receiving Astraea, Quinten had made it a priority to slip away from their caravan each evening to train with her. He was thankful for his practice now, as the consistent practice had slowly increased the speed with which he could channel his Gift into the blade while remaining in control of the flow of energy.

    He shoved power into the blade in a rush, charging it for one of its special effects.

    Astraea sent out a crescent blade of energy in a wide arc with a slash. The attacker to Quinten''s right jumped up and shoved off the ceiling in a blur of movement, launching themselves at Quinten. While the leftmost assassin tried to spin around the attack. They misjudged its reach, the ethereal blade cutting deeply into their side.

    The smell of shit and the acidic taste of stomach bile instantly filled the room.

    Crouching, Quinten sent a gust of wind at the airborne mage, pushing them off course. They landed in a roll, popping back to their feet, and continuing their charge. Quinten raised his weapon and sprinted forward to meet them head-on. The naked steel glittered in the dim light of the moon coming through the window.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    The shriek of metal on metal rang out as he parried the first strike, twisting his body to avoid the follow-up strike. Pressing forward, he swung low, forcing them to leap back. His attacker struck from on high in an attempt to keep Quinten back. He drew air in through the open window, driving it into the ball of flame he conjured in his hand, making the volatile combination burst into bright light as he squeezed his eyes shut. Bright spots blocked his vision, even from behind his eyelids. He forced the lids open and squinted into the now pitch-black room.

    The woman, at least that¡¯s what Quinten believed her to be, stood with one hand pressed to her eyes and the other swinging her blade around in a futile gesture. Taking advantage, Quinten lunged forward, pulling on Astraea¡¯s crossguard with his telekineses to give him the speed and necessary reach to cross the distance. The tip of his weapon punched into the base of the woman¡¯s throat, stopping against the bone of her spine on the other side.

    Quinten kicked her off his blade and spun toward the one he¡¯d hit with his first attack. He found them leaning against the wall, holding their guts in tight as blood continued to pool beneath them.

    Quinten took two steps forward and¡ªSmack!

    The impact wrenched him partially around. The wet, meaty sound quickly forgotten in the burning pain radiating from his shoulder.

    ¡°Aaaargh!¡± He screamed, staring at the foot long icicle piercing his left shoulder. Turning toward the door, he saw the ice mage standing there, their whole body quivering as they looked between Quinten and the rest of their team.

    ¡°All of them¡­?¡± A male voice whispered in a small voice as he stared at the carnage filling the room.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± He said in a guttural scream. His eyes locking on Quinten, he seethed. ¡°I¡¯m going to freeze your screams in your throat!¡±

    He grunted, the cold pulsed through his shoulder and made it hard to focus. Squinting at the assassin, he watched as the man raised both hands, ready to make good on his threat.

    Quinten raised Astraea and reached for his Gift. Before he could do anything to protect himself, something shot past him, reflecting in the moonlight as it spun.

    Crack!

    Staring in bewilderment, it took Quinten a moment to identify the metal sphere that¡¯d blown out the back of the mage¡¯s skull, blood and bone painting the wall behind him.

    The retching sound from behind him had Quinten turning too quickly, gasping in pain at his carelessness, just in time to see Ronan vomit across the top of his bed.

    Remembering the sole surviving assassin, Quinten spun, slower this time. Blade held at the ready, he sighed in relief upon seeing the last mage was already dead. Their fight to hold in their intestines lost. He could see them spilling across the woman¡¯s lap where she¡¯d collapsed against the far wall.

    Over his shoulder, he called to the still vomiting Ronan. ¡°Stay here! I¡¯m going to help Cedric.¡±

    Gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder, Quinten ran through the destroyed doorway, now covered in scorched marks as well as missing its door. He stuck his head into the hall but couldn¡¯t see anyone. Knowing time was of the essence, he made his way down the hallway as quickly and quietly as he could. Even with his augmented hearing, he couldn¡¯t hear any fighting coming from the room, and it scared him.

    He knew Cedric wouldn¡¯t go down easily. Reaching another destroyed doorway, Quinten exposed just his right eye and looked into the room.

    It was a disaster. The space appeared as if every piece of furniture in the room had been smashed into splinters. There was blood coating the walls, and it dripped from the ceiling. There was also no movement from within. Realizing that every minute he waited could be Cedric¡¯s last, Quinten rushed inside.

    The first body he found was one of the black clad assassins. Quinten couldn¡¯t tell exactly what¡¯d killed them, but they were lying facedown in enough blood to make it clear they were likely dead. Stalking deeper into the room, he found a missing arm, discovering its owner a few steps further. They stared at the ceiling, their mask and half their face missing.

    Quinten found Cedric in the middle of the room. Rushing to his side, he dropped to his knees. His own pain forgotten, Astraea fell from his good hand onto the black clad body beside him as he checked over his friend. Cedric was fully shifted into his battle form. The elongated teeth and the fur along his jaw were coated in blood and had what looked to be skin caught on one of his canines. The fur on one side of his head and an ear were burned off. That, along with the multiple stab wounds Quinten could see on his chest and arms, let him know just how much damage Cedric had endured. Between the low light and the carnage, Quinten couldn¡¯t even tell if he was breathing.

    Ignoring the blood, Quinten pressed his ear against Cedric¡¯s furry chest and listened for a heartbeat, his own lodged firmly in his throat as he waited.

    Lud-dub¡­lud-ub¡­¡­lud¡ªub

    It was there, but Quinten could already tell it was fading. Raising his head, he screamed, ¡°Ronan!¡ªRonan!¡±

    With a stab of fear, it dawned on Quinten that the attack might not be over. He tried to focus on his Empathic gift. He didn¡¯t know if he was too amped up or if it was the pain in his shoulder, either way, he couldn¡¯t sense anything other than his own fear and desperation. Shifting his focus solely to his hearing, he pushed as much of his Gift into it as he could. Ronan¡¯s bare feet pounded against the floorboards as he ran down the hall, but all else was quiet.

    The healer burst into the room and his already pale face lost what remained of its color. He only hesitated for a moment, looking at the arm laying in the middle of the floor before his eyes locked on Quinten and he ran forward. Kneeling next to Cedric, he placed both of his hands on their friend''s chest, and Quinten watched as the familiar golden light of healing magic began to glow. The manadrite ring on Ronan¡¯s hand was emitting a cold blue light as Ronan channeled his gift through it.

    Quinten held his breath as he watched the stab wounds close and the burns along Cedric''s face start to heal. The process felt like it took an hour, but it could have only been five minutes before the glow surrounding Ronan¡¯s hands faded to nothing. The healer¡¯s panting breath, the only thing breaking the ensuing silence.

    ¡°He¡¯ll live.¡± Ronan said, exhaustion, but not fear, weighing down his voice.

    A few moments later, Cedric¡¯s eyes fluttered open. He stared at nothing for a long second before reality set in, and he tried to sit up with a distorted grunt from his elongated snout. Quinten locked him in place telekinetically, not wanting him to move in case it injured him more.

    ¡°Try not to move. Ronan only just healed you. Is it safe for him to shift back?¡± Quinten asked Ronan from where he slumped on the floor.

    He waved his hand and said, ¡°He should be fine. Shifters don¡¯t heal any faster when in their battle forms. He¡¯d likely be better off as his normal self, so he isn¡¯t using his energy to fuel his transformation.¡±

    Quinten released his grip on Cedric, and the other man began to shift back. He was clearly going slower than normal, likely feeling out each change to make sure it was safe. It took him a few minutes, but eventually he was back in his human form. A single look told him that Cedric was going to need at least one more round of healing from Ronan. The hair on the side of his head was still burnt off, and the skin was raw and angry. His ear had partially regenerated, but it wasn¡¯t complete and a portion was still missing, like a dog with a clipped ear.

    The icicle in Quinten''s shoulder had started to melt and blood was slowly leaking from the wound. He shifted so that it was facing away from his friends. No way was he going to ask Ronan to heal it before Cedric was back on his feet.

    It was only due to his close examination that he saw his friend¡¯s face turn white. Quinten tried to roll away, but a stab of pain from his shoulder had him collapsing, unable to avoid the projectile vomit Cedric released a moment later. It covered both Ronan and himself, his own joining it as he emptied whatever remained in his stomach from his earlier purge.

    ¡°We are a fucking mess.¡± Quinten groaned from where he lay holding his bleeding shoulder. He carefully rolled to face Cedric when he froze, staring at the pool of vomit.

    ¡°Is that an ear?¡±

    His friend grunted, eyes remaining shut. ¡°Fucker burned off mine, so I ate his. Didn¡¯t mean to swallow it.¡± Cedric croaked.

    Quinten couldn¡¯t help the snort, nor the small laugh, that the macabre confession forced from him, and Cedric failed fighting back one of his own. Before long, all three boys were laughing until Ronan¡¯s laughter turned into a sob.

    Pushing himself into a seated position, Quinten pulled his friend to him telekinetically, wrapping his good arm around his slender form. ¡°It¡¯s OK, I¡¯ve got you brother. I¡¯ve got you.¡±

 B1C48 - What the Hell Did You Do?

    Two days.

    A day for the rider from the village to catch up to their caravan, and a second for Captain Blackwell and the contingent of mages with her to reach Darrowford after receiving Q¡¯s report of the assassination attempt.

    Quinten, Cedric, and Ronan watched as the group rode across the newly reconstructed bridge.

    ¡°How do you think this is going to go?¡± Asked Ronan. His nerves and the tightness of his throat raising his voice¡¯s pitch.

    ¡°Not great.¡±

    Cedric sucked his teeth before spitting to the side. ¡°Like shit. I just hope the captain left her bulldog back with the supply train.¡±

    The mages reached them and the captain dismounted the moment her horse stopped moving. Charging toward them, she demanded, ¡°For the love of stars. Is it your life¡¯s ambition to piss off your superiors? First the Academy, and now this? What was that farce of a report you sent me? Demanding I come to you, even.¡±

    Quinten waited until she¡¯d finished her rant and saluted the woman. Cedric and Ronan smoothly doing likewise.

    The captain was momentarily taken aback as she returned the gesture on instinct. The corners of her mouth turned down in irritation and Quinten took a perverse pleasure in the tiny win.

    I think I finally understand why they chose her. Babysitting duty was just the excuse. I bet the Core just wanted her out of the Capital.

    Meeting her gaze levelly, Quinten said. ¡°I¡¯m not entirely sure how to answer that, Captain. We were attacked. The situation was far outside of anything we¡¯ve experienced at any of the other towns we¡¯ve assisted. Requesting your presence seemed like the logical choice in dealing with the aftermath.¡±

    To say they¡¯d had a rough couple of days put it mildly. Thankfully, Ronan had the energy to fully heal both Cedric and Quinten while they waited for the captain¡¯s arrival. Ronan didn¡¯t actually have any injuries himself, at least physically. Psychologically, the knowledge that he¡¯d killed someone had opened its own wounds on the young man.

    ¡°We¡¯ll see, Lieutenant. Now, show me where the incident occurred.¡±

    Leading the contingent of mages through the village, the difference between how they¡¯d been welcomed when they¡¯d first arrived, and now, was staggering. Where they¡¯d been met with smiles and expressions of excitement before, now they only saw fear and a desire for them to leave. The villagers kept their distance, watching quietly and being careful to give them a wide berth.

    Upon reaching the guest lodge, Quinten indicated that they¡¯d arrived. The captain gave the exterior a once over with a frown. ¡°Take me in and be quiet. I want to get my own impression before hearing what you have to say.¡± Pointing at Cedric and Ronan, she said, ¡°I just need one. You stay here. I don¡¯t need to be tripping over the two of you.¡±

    Quinten''s brow scrunched, blinking slowly several times as he considered her statement. Didn¡¯t you already read my report? Won¡¯t that influence your observation anyway?

    Regardless of his thoughts on the matter, Quinten followed her in and kept his mouth shut. He must have been too obvious with his expression, because he caught a passing elbow to the side from one of the captain¡¯s escorts. The offended woman glared at him with narrowed eyes and a scowl on her face, that he had to admit, did make her look like the bulldog Cedric liked to compare her too.

    While Quinten had been polite and personable with his fellow Core mages, making friends with some, like Lastrel. Others, he was on friendly terms with once the initial attempts to get him into their bed and wed had wound down. There were several that had never made the attempt, simply choosing to ignore them instead. There was a third group, those who refused to move past his or his friend¡¯s rejections. Mage Fayne happened to be one of the latter. She was also Captain Blackwell¡¯s largest ass-kisser.

    Quinten ignored her as he walked by, mostly because he knew it¡¯d only make her angrier.

    The damage to the guest lodge was extensive. In the heat of the moment, Quinten hadn¡¯t noticed just how much destruction the few minutes of fighting had caused. The smell of smoke permeated the building, thankfully covering up the scent of decomposing bodies after they¡¯d been removed. It took less than a day for the dead to start to smell. The odor attracting flies, the sound of their buzzing wings making Quinten feel queasy. When it became clear that the captain wouldn¡¯t be arriving that day, they¡¯d removed them and stored them nearby.

    The captain started her inspection in Cedric¡¯s room. It being the first they passed. Quinten''s assessment during the attack that nearly every piece of furniture had been destroyed, was not far off. The desk and its chair were shattered, leaving only broken pieces of wood strewn across the floor. Blood from that night still stained the floors, and without the help of a mage, likely would forever more. The bed frame was likewise broken, the mattress ripped and torn. The hay stuffing strewn all around the room from the fighting. Quinten hadn¡¯t seen what Gifts those that attacked Cedric had access too, but from the lack of elemental damage to the room, and from what his friend had said, they were mostly physically Gifted, fighting with weapons.

    After a few minutes of silent contemplation, the captain turned and left the area without a word. When she entered Quinten''s room, she took in the scene with a sweeping gaze, her eyebrows raising of their own accord. He remained silent, but continued to watch her for clues into her thoughts.

    ¡°Alright. I think I¡¯ve seen enough. According to your report, this and the room next door were the only scenes of battle. Is there anything else I need to see before we repair what we can and leave this place in peace? We are already behind.¡±

    Clearing his throat, Quinten asked, ¡°Do you want to examine the bodies? We removed them from the building when they started to smell and froze them to preserve as much as we could until you arrived.¡± He paused, hesitating a moment before continuing. ¡°We also think that they collaborated with one of the villagers. She¡­ threw herself at me the night of the attack. In what I am now guessing, was an attempt to separate the three of us. I also believe that she poisoned me during dinner. Headman Carson said she was found dead when he sent someone to find her after I reported my suspicions.¡±

    The look of disgust he received when he mentioned the bodies let him know just how little combat Captain Blackwell had experienced personally.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    ¡°You froze the bodies.¡± She repeated, her tone hollow and her face turning slightly green. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just burn them?¡±

    Quinten stared at her for a long moment and answered. ¡°So that you could examine them?¡±

    Latching onto the second part of what he¡¯d said in an obvious attempt to focus on something less bloody, even if only marginally, she asked. ¡°This girl. You said you suspected her of assisting the assassins and now she¡¯s dead? How?¡±

    ¡°I do not know. The headman just said that she was found dead. I didn¡¯t ask for more details. He didn¡¯t seem all that stable at the time.¡±

    ¡°I will need to talk to him before we leave.¡± She said as she peered through the hole Quinten had created for Ronan to slip through.

    ¡°Yes, Captain.¡± Watching her, Quinten asked. ¡°What happens now?¡±

    Rising to her feet, she turned toward him. ¡°Now? We fix what we can, pay for what we can¡¯t, and catch back up to the caravan. We¡¯re needed on the front lines and this doesn¡¯t change that. We will go take a look at the¡ªbodies.¡± She said with a thick swallow. ¡°And see if we can identify or learn anything about who may have hired them. I will send a bird forward to Avoncross and another to Mage Core Headquarters so they are aware of the incident and can investigate.¡±

    Captain Blackwell turned and walked out of the room. She made her way outside to where the rest of the Core mages waited. ¡°Listen up,¡± she called, ¡°Those that can do repair work, do what you can to fix what these three broke. One of you, make a list of what you can¡¯t, and I¡¯ll make sure the village is reimbursed for the damage. Everyone else, follow Mage Ashford. We¡¯re going to see if anyone can recognize the mages that attacked them.¡±

    Her orders were met with a flurry of activity and more than a few whispers. I guess the captain hadn¡¯t mentioned the assassins were Gifted. I bet she wanted to confirm that for herself, Quinten thought as he led Blackwell and three of her escort around the back of the lodge and toward the earthen structure he raised to seal in the bodies.

    He stopped a few feet away from the mound and raised a hand to keep the captain from getting any closer. ¡°You won¡¯t want to be too close when the ice melts. I doubt it¡¯s going to be a clean process.¡±

    She looked at him in confusion until her mind created an image that her stomach clearly didn¡¯t like and she took a large step back, the green returning to her complexion.

    Quinten raised a hand, and the dirt began to flow back into the earth like a stream of brown water. After only a moment, a block of pink-tinted ice was revealed. Clear enough to see the row of bodies arranged side by side, but opaque enough to hide the details. Quinten heard a sharp intake of breath from one of the mages behind him.

    Raising his other hand, Quinten concentrated on heating up the area around the block of frozen bodies. Just enough to melt the ice, but not enough to cause them harm. It only took a few seconds for the ice to start sweating and less than a minute before it visibly began to melt. A flash of envy shot through his Empathy from behind. He turned his head and lock eyes with Fayne. Shooting her a quick grin, Quinten focused back on his task. The grin quickly left his face, and he had to fight for control of his own stomach a minute or two later when the pink tinted ice made the dead appear to be crying blood as it melted.

    When the ice was gone, Quinten pushed the water deep into the earth, making the area around the bodies clear to walk on. He watched the mages as they worked their way down the line, checking each face, looking for any indication they recognized one of the dead. When Captain Blackwell froze in place, three bodies from the end. Quinten boosted his hearing just in time to hear her whisper, ¡°Marcy¡­ you idiot.¡±

    Moving to stand beside the captain, he said. ¡°You knew her.¡±

    Blackwell looked at the sky before wiping a tear off of one cheek. ¡°I did. We were in the same Core unit for nearly a decade until she got out a few years ago. With the new laws, she was finally able to get herself a husband.¡± Turning to the man beside the woman, she looked at their matching wedding bands and continued, ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s him.¡± Following her gaze, Quinten saw it was the ice mage Ronan had killed. Looking at the woman to the man¡¯s left, he noticed that she too wore a matching ring.

    ¡°Is it common for a mage to leave the Core and become a murder-for-hire?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Was all Blackwell said as she spun on her heel and began walking away. She¡¯d made it halfway to the guest lodge when she stopped and called. ¡°Burn the bodies. They don¡¯t deserve a service.¡± Before continuing out of sight around the building.

    Quinten looked at the three remaining mages beside him. None of them appeared comfortable with the orders, nor had they made a move to comply. Understanding that the fact the dead had tried to kill him, likely made the task easier for him personally, he mentally pushed the corpses together before letting loose a blast of flame. He held it for several seconds before cutting it off, leaving only a blackened area of dirt and the smell of cooked meat and burnt hair.

    He met Fayne¡¯s eyes and saw something he¡¯d never seen from her during their weeks on the road. He saw a hint of fear. She turned away, the other two following as she headed toward the guest lodge. If Quinten wasn¡¯t mistaken, he thought they were walking faster than they had on the way over.

    He remained where he was, staring down at the blackened pit of embers. A passing breeze setting the ash within spinning through the air. It was a depressing reminder that eventually, we all turn to nothing in the end.

    Shaking his head, Quinten made to rejoin Cedric and Ronan where they stood, forgotten in front of the guest lodge. Each step he took seemed to add just a little more weight to his shoulders. By the time he reached them, he struggled to think of a time he¡¯d ever felt more exhausted.

    ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡± Cedric asked, eying him.

    Quinten shrugged. ¡°Could have gone worse? I don¡¯t think we are actually in trouble, but she made it pretty clear we¡¯re leaving to catch up to the caravan as soon as she can get us out of here. Apparently, reaching the front-lines is more of a priority for Blackwell.¡± A cough from Ronan had him correcting himself. ¡°Captain Blackwell¡ªthan finding out why someone tried to kill us.¡±

    Tired of standing, Quinten touched on his Gift and raised a bench for the three to sit on. Straddling the new seating, he continued, ¡°the captain recognized one of them though, so we have a name to start with. The fact she was a veteran mage in the Core and not someone who did their four years and left should help.¡±

    Ronan raised an eyebrow at that. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of a Core mage turning assassin.¡±

    ¡°Neither had the captain. Marcy, her friend, left the Core to get married. Pretty sure she and her new family all died together.¡±

    Cedric grunted, ¡°Well, whoever they were. They were well organized and well equipped. You hear of assassins at court and in noble circles. But they are usually just stories, told to teach spoiled noble brats not to piss off their betters. I¡¯ve never heard of a group of mage assassins. Whomever is behind this has some serious backing.¡±

    Ronan drummed his fingers on the bench¡¯s surface. A habit he fell into whenever he was in deep contemplation. ¡°Have either of you wondered why they only attacked your rooms? No one tried to enter mine. Stars above, they didn¡¯t even touch my door.¡±

    He waited to see if Cedric would answer him, but when it became clear he wouldn¡¯t, Quinten answered. ¡°You weren¡¯t supposed to come with us, remember? It was just supposed to be Cedric and I.¡±

    The usually carefree smile slipped from Cedric¡¯s face. His eyes narrowed as he braced his arms along his thighs. ¡°Do you think it was Highbridge? We did fuck up her son.¡±

    Shifting his head from side to side, Quinten shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve no idea. Now that you mention itReven wore a mask the one time I saw her, but it was a different color¡­ and according to my grandfather, I owe her now. I don¡¯t think she¡¯d want to kill me before she collects.¡°

    He took a deep breath and sighed. ¡°Either way, whoever set this up has enough connections and authority to get eight mages to agree to kill for them. That¡¯s more than a little terrifying.¡±

    ¡°Great¡­¡± Ronan said in the driest tone he could manage. ¡°Because I wasn¡¯t sleeping bad enough already. Now, I have to worry about some powerful, shadowy figure wanting you both dead.¡±

    ¡°It could be worse, you know.¡± Cedric pointed out, his tone serious.

    His remark earned raised eyebrows from both of his friends as they waited for him to continue.

    Realizing that was exactly what Cedric wanted, Quinten regretted it the moment he saw the other man¡¯s mouth curve into a smirk.

    ¡°You could wake to Fayne in your bed.¡± He said with an exaggerated shiver. ¡°Talk about nightmares.¡±

 B1C49 - The Frontlines

    Avon River Crossing

    Western Marches

    As their caravan crested the hill, Quinten had his first opportunity to see where his grandfather, the Lord Marshal, had picked for the staging ground and the command center for the kingdom¡¯s defense against the Drakovians.

    The Avon River was the largest water crossing closest to Rivenna¡¯s western border with Drakovia. In the past, it had been considered the end of their kingdom. Population growth and a higher demand for food forced the expansion of Rivenna across the river and into the plains beyond. The fertile fields were just too valuable to the growing kingdom as potential farmland. As the realm expanded and new villages were created to grow food. The open plains did not lend themselves to natural chokepoints where the Rivennans could create easily defensible structures without a lot of magical assistance. Instead, a number of Army outposts were built. Unfortunately, the large swaths of land between them reduced their effectiveness markedly. It was through these gaps that the Drakovians were riding through to raid, pillage, and enslave the vulnerable farming villages.

    Now that they¡¯d reached their destination, Quinten could feel the energy, like a tingle that ran through his entire body, letting him know that he was where he needed to be. After the assassination attempt in Darrowford, Quinten, Cedric, and Ronan were kept on a pretty tight leash. Captain Blackwell hadn¡¯t said much to them regarding the incident, but it was clear, based on the assignments they received throughout the remainder of their journey, she didn¡¯t want them getting too far away from the caravan. She¡¯d sent off her reports of the incident at the next city they passed that boasted an Aviary. From there, it was out of their hands. The Core would investigate, bringing in the Bureau of Inquisition if they deemed it necessary. The latter part had been news that Quinten could have done without. He never wanted to be involved in their affairs again.

    ¡°Are you done day dreaming over there?¡± Lastrel asked with a grin from beside him as they descended into the valley and approached the city.

    Quinten flipped her off by way of an answer, earning himself a laugh. After the night she¡¯d propositioned him, they¡¯d become friends. He¡¯d never taken her up on her offer, nor had she mentioned it since. Quinten was thankful for that. He was also fairly certain she was now sleeping with one of the infantrymen managing a wagon team.

    The Crossing itself was a large stone bridge that spaned the river in its entirety. The small city of Avoncross had built up on the Rivennan side of the river over the years, with the far side becoming a fortified Army Post to protect the bridge and the city behind it. The area immediately surrounding the Army post on the far side of the river was filled with the neat and orderly rows of army tents and wagons.

    Their caravan made its way through the towering gates of the city and Captain Blackwell stood in her stirrups at the front of their column, indicating that they were to separate from the main body of the caravan while it continued across the river where it would be swallowed by the never ending hunger of an army¡¯s needs.

    Garrick peeled himself away from the conversation he¡¯d been having with an army sergeant and rode up to Quinten''s side. To say the man was angry at Blackwell for telling him he needed to remain behind, only to have Quinten get attacked, would have been an understatement. Because of that, the man had hardly left him alone long enough to take a piss on his own, and Quinten hoped that he¡¯d get some much needed space while at the crossing.

    They followed the captain as she led them through the stone streets. It was readily apparent that the city¡¯s infrastructure had grown around the original layout of the army outpost. Buildings made of wood and stone were arranged in the same grid pattern commonly used in army camps with their critical operations placed at the center of the camp, or in this case, the city.

    The narrow streets were arranged for expedient foot traffic, cartwheels, and clear lines of sight. One point of difference was the bustling market square central to Avoncross. Formally used as a parade ground or training field when not in use. Now, the large square was filled with market booths and food venders. The square itself was bordered by buildings previously housing army divisions that had since been put to more merchant purposes. It was one of those buildings that held their final destination.

    The former army headquarters had been requisitioned by the Mage Core. Before the current hostilities with Drakovia, the building was being used for an administrative overflow within the city center, with the bulk of the army infrastructure having moved across the Avon. Its proximity to local services made it an ideal place for the Core. It went without saying the nobles filling the Core¡¯s ranks would want to stay in the city rather than in a tent across the river if they could avoid it.

    Captain Blackwell came to a stop outside of the Mage Core Headquarters, calling the procession of mages to a halt before the building. Stable hands and groomsman came running up to hold their mounts while they dismounted. A young woman dashed forward, reaching to grab Star¡¯s reins, brushing her fingers across the back of Quinten''s hand by accident. The touch came with a wave of excitement and an undercurrent of hope and anticipation.

    Quinten had spent the remainder of their journey west practicing Empathy as frequently as he could. He¡¯d even asked Captain Blackwell in a roundabout manner if she¡¯d ever heard of anyone with unique Gifts during her time in the Core. Apparently, she¡¯d heard of them, but hadn¡¯t ever met anyone who had one.

    Even without instruction, he¡¯d improved his ability to control the intensity of the emotions he felt by strengthening or thinning out the mental barrier he¡¯d learned to construct and keep running at all times. On the occasions when strong emotions were nearby, they would rebound off of his mental shields, giving Quinten the opportunity to lower them if he wanted to. His defense wasn¡¯t perfect. Physical touch could still surprise him, but he¡¯d had enough exposure since leaving Gremelda that he¡¯d developed a thicker ¡°emotional skin¡± when it came to dealing with other people¡¯s feelings.

    Dismounting, Quinten watched as the young woman with sun-kissed brown hair led Star away. Focusing his Gift let him listen in as she talked to the horse. ¡°Well, look at you, beautiful. That coat is marvelous. Your rider must spend¡ª¡± Smiling to himself, Quinten made a mental note to tip her well when she brought Star to him later.

    Garrick took the opportunity to speak to Quinten while the rest of their group stretched after several hours in the saddle. ¡°I will go see about a room for you and the other young lords. If the Core is anything like the Army, we will only be here for a few days before shipping out to meet with your units.¡±

    Nodding, Quinten asked, ¡°Can you grab an extra room for Lastrel in case she needs it?¡±

    Garrick gave a smirk in return and turned away with a wink. Quinten almost objected that it wasn¡¯t like that, but decided it wasn¡¯t worth the effort to try to correct his man¡¯s assumption. Instead, Quinten brought up the rear as the mages followed Captain Blackwell into the large stone building. It had the letters MC carved into the wall above the main entrance. Immediately through the doors was a large entryway, with stone staircases flanking both sides of the room leading to the second floor.

    Standing at the banister above, looking down on them, was a man Quinten did not recognize. From the murmurs of those around him, it was clear he was the exception. Trading a glance with Cedric, he lifted a brow and received a shrug and an eye-roll in response.

    ¡°Welcome!¡± The man said, his voice perfectly pitched to carry throughout the room. ¡°Welcome to the Avon Crossing and to the Western Plains.¡± The man let the silence ring for just a moment before continuing. ¡°My name is Lord Taskin Wyndham. I am the Mage Commander assigned to leading The Core, and its mages out here on the frontier. I hope your trip here was restful, because you will be heading into the thick of it, I¡¯m sorry to say. You are all replacements to mages lost in battle, and I can tell you for a fact that things are only getting started on the front lines. With temperatures dropping, neither the Drakovians, nor we, want to draw out our time in the saddle riding patrols. We are expecting events to move quickly and violently over the next few months.¡±

    His statement had its intended effect, bringing a low murmur to the crowd as they repeated his words.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Do not fear unnecessarily! The units you will be assigned to have all been tested in battle and are all veterans in this war because of it. Trust in the Core and your fellow mages. They will see you through these bloody times.¡± Pausing once more with a blindingly white smile, his voice rose in conclusion. ¡°And I will be right by your side as we bring these savages to a heel!¡±

    Cheers rang out and Quinten could feel a wave of excitement and, to his disgust, trace amounts of lust from the mages around him as they stared up at their new Mage Commander.

    Stars above, does the pageantry ever end? Quinten internally groaned as administrators wearing the shield and staff of the Core on their robes emerged from a number of doors along the main entryway. They each carried a stack of folders and began calling out names.

    ¡°Atkinson!¡±

    ¡°Lastrel!¡±

    ¡°Hastings, Vaelmara, & Ashford!¡± Came Mage Commander Taskin¡¯s voice from the second story. It was the first time he¡¯d spoken since finishing his speech and it covered the entryway like a wet wool blanket.

    With a twist of his lips, Cedric said. ¡°Well lads, I guess that¡¯s us. I think they figured out you weren¡¯t supposed to come with us, Ronan. I bet you¡¯re in trouble now.¡±

    Snorting, the red-headed young man pushed him as they made their way toward the stairs. ¡°He may want to see us because, oh I don¡¯t know, someone tried to kill us on our way here?¡± He asked with a look of exasperation.

    ¡°Nope.¡± Said Cedric with an exaggerated popping of the ¡®p.¡¯ ¡°Definitely not. We killed them all. What else is there to talk about?¡±

    No one deigned to answer him as they climbed to the second story, where Mage Commander Taskin stood waiting. So, Quinten thought. This is the guy Grandfather had such good things to say about. He does appear a little reptilian.

    The man did not in fact look like a snake, though he had that same timeless appearance that made placing his age difficult. He presented himself as a man in his prime, mid-to-late thirties, but a single exchange of eye contact told a very different story. Unable to resist the temptation, Quinten touched on Empathy and gave the man a quick reading.

    His skin broke into a cold sweat. Starfire! I¡¯ve heard someone called cold-blooded before, but I¡¯m getting absolutely nothing from him. The feeling wasn¡¯t like when he was unable to connect with his gift. He could feel both Cedric and Ronan easily enough. The emotions he felt rolling off the man were simply too cold and oily to register. Taskin had a calm self-assuredness to him as he watched the trio approach that made Quinten feel as if they were walking into a trap.

    With no other option but to proceed. The three formed a line as they would for an Instructor at the Academy, standing before the Mage Commander. Up close, Lord Taskin was not an imposing figure. A head shorter than them, the trio towered over the man and his thin build.

    ¡°Thank you for not forcing me to send someone to find you.¡± The Mage Commander said with a slight smile. ¡°Come with me. There are concerns that need to be addressed.¡± He ordered. His voice, when it wasn¡¯t being projected to an entire room, was a warm baritone, so smooth it put Quinten on edge.

    No wonder Grandfather said this was a political appointment. He sounds like he could talk a star down from the night¡¯s sky. Thought Quinten as he, Ronan, and Cedric followed the man through a door at the end of the hall. It led them into a second hallway and they followed until Taskin stopped before a door with his name burned into the wood. Pushing it open, he entered and walked around an oversized wooden desk that managed to make the man look like a child playing in his father¡¯s study. Quinten saved that mental image for later, knowing it would get a laugh out of Cedric.

    Having received no instructions, the three followed the commander into his office. They formed back up in the same line as earlier, arranging themselves in front of his desk, staring levelly at the wall behind it.

    ¡°I hear your journey has been eventful.¡± Taskin said, relaxing into his chair, peering at each of them in turn.

    None of them knew what to say to that, nor what the protocol was for meeting a commanding officer in the Core. They chose the safe option of remaining silent.

    ¡°You are all new.¡± The older man said, tapping a stack of folders sitting on his desk. ¡°Your files say that you missed the mandatory Rules, Regulations, & Procedures training all new Core members receive upon starting their service. That¡¯s unfortunate, but I can understand the Archmage and the Mage Council wanting you out here where you can do some good.¡± Taskin said, flashing them that pearly white smile once more, his eyes drifting down to Quinten''s waist. ¡°That is a beautiful blade you have there, Lt. Ashford. I believe I saw it during its construction. Though, if I remember correctly, it was not meant for a lieutenant.¡± He said with a raised brow.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Quinten said, keeping his tone light. ¡°I have grown quite fond of it myself. I was told it was meant for the prince, my lord..?¡± Quinten responded, his form of address uncertain.

    ¡°Commander will do. It¡¯s procedure, as is answering honestly and to the best of your ability, any questions a superior officer may have for you during a debrief like this one. Do you understand?¡±

    The three exchanged a cautious look, but each responded with a, ¡°Yes, Commander.¡±

    Nodding, Taskin steepled his fingers together and said, ¡°Good, good. Now, I want to hear a full report on the night you were attacked. We take violence against our people seriously in the Core, and I want to get to the bottom of what transpired to ensure it doesn¡¯t happen to anyone else.¡±

    Now they care? Quinten thought as he tried to piece together what was going on. Captain Blackwell couldn¡¯t have given less of a flying star after it happened.

    Taking the lead, Quinten proceeded with the same report he¡¯d given the captain back at the village. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but he chose to keep much of the details surrounding his and Cedric¡¯s abilities as vague as he could. Focusing more on their assailant¡¯s capabilities, numbers, and the fact they were all Gifted. Drawing his recounting of the night¡¯s events to a close, he fell silent and stared at the wall once more.

    Mage Commander Taskin was quiet for several minutes as he reviewed a number of documents on his desk. Eventually, he turned to Cedric and Ronan, asking.

    ¡°And you two, do you have anything to add?¡±

    Cedric shook his head and remained silent. While Ronan said, ¡°No, commander. I am a healer and not much of a fighter. I didn¡¯t see anything that Lt. Ashford did not already share.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Taskin said tersely. ¡°What of the identities of the assassins? Did you recognize any of the group? There are few enough mages. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if you knew at least one of them.¡±

    Either Captain Blackwell chose not to mention that she recognized Marcy in her report, or this is a test, Quinten thought. Considering the man seated before him, it could very well be the latter.

    Making a snap decision, Quinten shifted his gaze to meet the older man¡¯s and replied, ¡°We did not recognize any of the attackers. And unfortunately, some of their faces were unrecognizable after the fight.¡±

    Another aspect of Empathy Quinten had discovered was that physical touch was not the only way he could establish a direct emotional connection with someone. Eye contact had a similar, if slightly weaker, ability to do the same. Like looking into a window versus walking through an open door.

    Quinten scanned the man¡¯s emotions and watched for any changes of facial expression. He thought he may have seen a brow twitch, but he could feel only the slightest hint of frustration from behind a wall of self-satisfaction.

    Taskin began drumming his fingers on the desk and stared at Quinten for an uncomfortably long time. Finally, he said, ¡°Very well.¡±

    Commander Taskin paused then, eyeing Quinten for a long moment. Eventually, he nodded to himself and Quinten felt the odd sense things were about to take a turn. ¡°Are you aware that there has been a concern raised regarding you and the young woman in Darrowford?¡±

    Quinten frowned deeply as his head jerked back slightly in confusion.

    ¡°What kind of concern?¡±

    Taskin raised a brow and Quinten watched the commander¡¯s eyes shift to one of the sheets of paper before returning to meet his gaze. ¡°Surrounding her death, of course. You pointed out in both your written reports, and in the one you just gave me, that you believed she poisoned you, correct?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡± He answered, half as a question and half in uncertainty, feeling his hackles start to rise the dryer his throat became.

    ¡°And you do not know how she died?¡±

    Quinten clenched his teeth, gritting out, ¡°No.¡±

    The commander nodded slowly. ¡°She had her neck snapped. A grizzly affair from the reports. Almost like it was done out of anger.¡±

    Freezing, Quinten realized the implication. Are they going to try to blame her death on me?

    He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Taskin spoke over him.

    ¡°Either way, there isn¡¯t enough evidence to say why she was killed.¡± The man said with a nonchalant shrug. ¡°But it is my duty as your Commander, and from one noble to another, to ensure you are aware that your actions will be closely watched going forward.¡±

    Quinten stood at a loss, trying to understand if he was being accused, threatened, or if the commander was just making a statement.

    Continuing as if the matter were closed, Commander Taskin opened a drawer, swept the stacks of paper off his desk into it, then shut it and moved to the next drawer up. He removed three new folders and slid one before each of them. ¡°Here are your reporting orders. I know you received assignments back in Gremelda, but here are updated details for each. Lt. Hastings and Ashford, your instructions are the same. But yours, Mage Vaelmara, has changed upon the Core learning you¡¯ve developed the ability to fly.¡± The last was said almost as a question as he stared at the young man.

    Cedric¡¯s brows rose. ¡°I can¡¯t really fly, Commander. At least not yet?¡± He said uncertainly. ¡°It¡¯s more of a glide at this point, but I¡¯ve been getting better.¡±

    Commander Taskin continued to stare at him for a long moment, drumming his fingers atop his desk in thought.

    ¡°While that¡¯s not ideal, we can still make use of it. We have so few mages that can fly. Let¡¯s hope that someone in your new unit can help teach you ways to improve the ability. That is your goal from here on out, Mage Vaelmara, to learn to fly so you can truly be a part of the Skyrunners.¡±

 B1C50 - Do You Know Who I Am?

    ¡°What just happened?¡± Asked Quinten in a daze. The trio currently stood out in the hallway after being dismissed from Commander Taskin¡¯s office.

    Cedric grunted, saying, ¡°I have no idea. I was hoping one of you would explain it to me.¡±

    ¡°Did Captain Blackwell suggest in her report that I might have killed Alice?¡± Quinten asked, his voice rising. Just the thought had him wanting to throw up in one of the potted plants lining the hallway.

    Ronan placed a hand on Quinten''s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. ¡°It didn¡¯t sound like an official accusal and we know you didn¡¯t. That¡¯s what is important.¡± Giving Quinten a slight push to get him moving, he added, ¡°I¡¯ll tell you now, though. That bitch better make sure she never winds up in my infirmary tent. After this, I¡¯d let her bleed out.¡±

    The comment was so bloodthirsty, and out of character, that it had both Cedric and Quinten pausing to stare at their friend.

    ¡°What?¡±

    Cedric grinned, getting a wink from Ronan as Quinten shook his head and started walking once more. In a bid to further distract Quinten, Ronan asked Cedric.

    ¡°The Skyrunners, huh?¡±

    Cedric squinted as they rounded a corner, shrugging. ¡°Apparently? Don¡¯t get me wrong, getting assigned to them is awesome. I¡¯m going to get all the ladies¡ªbut I can barely fly and mostly just glide at this point. Isn¡¯t this a bit premature?¡±

    ¡°You heard the commander. It¡¯s a rare ability, and they are desperate right now for fast communication in this war.¡± Quinten suggested absentmindedly. ¡°A message can only get passed by bird so quickly. If you are the one flying, you can go directly to where you are needed instead of where the bird is trained to fly.¡±

    Agreeing from the rear, Ronan said, ¡°He¡¯s probably right about that. Read through your order packet when you get a chance. They likely have some more useful information.¡±

    The trio reentered the main room and stopped to do just that, hidden from view up on the second story.

    Lost in their own orders, neither Quinten nor Ronan saw the fear dawning on Cedric¡¯s face. ¡°Are¡ªwere your Cavalry and Healing unit assignments switched to Southbend?¡±

    Quinten looked up from the paper he was reading, a frown forming. ¡°No, it¡¯s still out if Northreach. Why would¡­¡± He trailed off as realization dawned.

    ¡°No.¡± He said, snatching the paper away from his quickly paling friend. Scanning through it, Quinten forcibly unclenched his hand, fighting the impulse to set the sheet on fire.

    ¡°They split us up?¡± Ronan asked in a quiet voice.

    No one spoke, but Quinten answered him with a stiff nod. Cedric, surprisingly, was the first to snap out of their collective shock.

    Sighing theatrically, he said. ¡°I just had to do it. I was already amazing and then I learned to fly. I should have seen it coming. My level of perfection would eventually take me away from you two. I¡¯m just sorry it had to happen so soon.¡±

    Ronan and Quinten saw through the attempt to hide the fear underlying the young man¡¯s joke, but none of them were ready to face the harsh truth they¡¯d been presented with, not yet at least.

    Forcing a sarcastic laugh, Quinten shook his head. ¡°You can¡¯t even fly. You just hold your wings out and try not to die.¡±

    ¡°Like a chicken.¡± Added Ronan.

    The visual drew a genuine laugh, if a small one, from the three young men. Cedric took back his orders from Quinten and they made their way down the stairs to the ground level.

    They¡¯d nearly made it outside when a voice called from behind, ¡°Q! Q, hold on a moment.¡±

    With a quick glance over his shoulder, Quinten saw Lastrel hurrying over.

    Cedric grinned, seeing her coming their way, and performed a bow. ¡°Well, hello gorgeous. Thanks for gracing us with your presence.¡±

    Raising a single bronze eyebrow, she asked, ¡°Are you over that hoity-toity lady of yours yet?¡±

    When Cedric frowned at her words, she smirked in return. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. It¡¯s still Lastrel to you. At least until you stop being such a tease.¡±

    Ronan and Quinten laughed at their friend¡¯s discomfort, his cheeks taking on an interesting shade of pink.

    Turning to Quinten, she said. ¡°Thank you for waiting. It was a bit of a madhouse in there. I didn¡¯t even see where you three ran off to.¡±

    The question made Quinten grimace. ¡°The Mage Commander wanted to meet with us,¡± he said, leading the four of them out of the building. They headed toward the stables to retrieve their horses.

    Her eyes widened briefly in surprise before narrowing on him. ¡°The assassination attempt?¡±

    ¡°Yea¡­¡± Quinten said, trailing off at what he saw when they entered the stable yard.

    A woman in Core brown robes that Quinten did not recognize sat astride Starbrite. He could hear the sandy brown haired ostler from earlier pleading with the woman to choose a different horse. There were four additional Core mages already mounted and watching, smirking at the stable hand from on high.

    ¡°Hey, isn¡¯t that¡ª¡± Cedric began, but Quinten was already striding forward.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Star, clearly uncomfortable with having an unknown rider on her back. Tossed her head and started backing up. The mage began sawing the reins back and forth, fighting the horse for control. Seeing the animal¡¯s discomfort, the ostler lunged forward and grabbed hold of Star¡¯s bridle.

    They scrambled, spinning so that Star¡¯s bulk blocked them from sight. A moment later, a scream rang out and Quinten rushed forward, reaching them just as they completed their turn. Flames licked at the mage¡¯s hand, and the scent of roasting meat filled the air. The groomswoman fell to the ground, clutching her arm and continuing to scream. Reacting on instinct, Quinten thrust his hand forward and a gust of air burst forth. It caught the mage full in the chest and sent her flying from the saddle. She landed with an umph and an explosion of lost breath. The yard settled into a shocked silence while onlookers tried to process what¡¯d just happened.

    Quinten grabbed Starbrite¡¯s reins, placing his palm over the horse¡¯s nose. He wanted her to catch his scent and calm down knowing that everything was going to be alright. The last thing the poor woman writhing on the ground needed was a hoof to the head. As Star settled, Quinten knelt beside the ostler, keeping an eye on the downed mage. He held the reins in one hand, and placed the other on her uninjured arm. The fear and pain she felt shot through him, making him grit his teeth to hold back a growl.

    He took a momentary breath to ensure his voice would come out normal, and said, ¡°Hey, hey. It¡¯s going to be OK. My friend is a healer, and will see to your arm¡ª¡± He stopped talking, watching as the mage propped herself up onto her elbows. The glare she leveled at him brimmed with fury and indignation.

    Of course, she just had to be a loud one. Quinten thought, I should have known¡­

    ¡°How dare you! Who do you think you are?¡± Pressing herself into a seated position, the woman continued, ¡°No¡ªBetter yet, do you know who I am?¡± She seethed.

    Quinten kept an eye on her in case she attacked, but otherwise, chose to ignore her. He didn¡¯t have to wait long before Ronan made it to his side. He skirted around Star, giving her more room than absolutely necessary. Not that Quinten would ever mention it, and knelt beside the stable hand. ¡°It¡¯s OK. I¡¯m a healer. May I see your arm?¡±

    With her in good hands, Quinten shifted his full attention to the mage. His decision to ignore the woman did nothing to improve the fury and indignation clearly written on her face. She¡¯d risen to her feet by this point, and the four mages with her had all dismounted and formed up behind her as they watched him like pack animals surveying their next meal.

    ¡°Well? Answer me!¡± The woman demanded. Having made her wait this long, Quinten saw no problem taking the opportunity to assess the lady, and she was a Lady, he had no doubts about that. The quality of her brown Core robe was significantly higher, and the material much finer than the standard issue robe he wore. If that hadn¡¯t given it away, the amount of jewelry she wore could have fed, clothed, and sheltered a family for several years.

    Tall for a woman, she was only a few inches shorter than Quinten, and he found himself oddly thankful for the extra height. She had long raven-dark waves that framed her face before forming into an elaborate braid that ran down her back. Her large steel-grey eyes were cold as she stared him down in self-righteous anger. Her hand twitching toward the sword strapped to her waist, indicating just how she would like to handle the matter.

    Quinten straightened and gave a half bow, falling back on his etiquette training. The woman snorted, but followed suit with the barest dipping of her knees for a curtsey.

    ¡°Oh, now he wants to follow courtly etiquette after attacking me by surprise?¡± She huffed in what Quinten could only assume was equal parts affront and incredulity.

    ¡°That was not an attack, my lady. It was a means of separation. I didn¡¯t want to see anyone come to any more unnecessary harm. I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. I am Lt. Ashford.¡±

    ¡°Unnecessary harm, he says. Who are you to say what is and is not necessary? She had no right grabbing hold of my horse.¡± The Lady said, completely ignoring Quinten''s introduction. He wasn¡¯t famous and didn¡¯t expect everyone to know his name, or who he was, but he saw recognition flare on the face of a tawny-haired mage standing behind the irate woman.

    ¡°My horse.¡± Quinten emphasized, giving Star a pat on the nose, earning a nuzzle in return.

    The mage stared at him for a moment, her brows coming down as she asked, ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You said the groomswoman grabbed hold of your horse¡ªwhen, in fact¡ªIt was my horse that she grabbed. Which is likely why she tried to stop you from taking Star in the first place.¡±

    The woman who recognized Quinten stepped forward and tugged on her friend¡¯s sleeve, only to be ignored. Sensing a point of weakness, the Lady argued. ¡°Then why was she in the Core stables? Personal horses do not belong there.¡±

    Quinten watched her, amazed that she¡¯d somehow managed to get her nose so high in just two sentences. ¡°Which means¡­ this whole fiasco is your fault.¡± Pausing, the dark-haired woman looked Quinten up and down, her eyes latching onto his sword for several seconds before continuing. She looked Star over once more, and with a wicked grin creeping across her face, said. ¡°I want recompense. Your sword and horse should do.¡±

    Realizing she was serious, shock and incredulity hit him like a wet blanket to the face.

    ¡°No¡ª?¡±

    Her self-satisfaction quickly turned to rage as she yelled. ¡°No¡­ NO? You attacked a Lady. The daughter of a Duke and the niece of the Mage Commander, and you think you can just get away with it? Where is your honor?¡±

    Well, fuck. Thought Quinten as the pieces fell into place. At least he had a name for the banshee standing before him.

    Lady Daphne Wyndham.

    *****

    How her day had taken a turn like this, she couldn¡¯t fathom. Assaulted by the help, and attacked when she was defending herself. Channeling her unhappiness through her gaze, she stared down the boy in front of her. No, he¡¯s a man, She thought ruefully, giving him a thorough once over.

    That is a lovely horse. And the sword, just look at it! thought Daphne, staring at the shining steel. It has to be a family heirloom¡­

    ¡°No¡­?¡± Said the young man in what sounded almost like a question, his voice coming out in a rich baritone. The slight rise of his brow making her feel as if she were being mocked.

    Wait, what? Daphne¡¯s thoughts screeched to a halt. The mental image of her presenting a new sword to her father crumbling.

    ¡°No¡­ NO? You attacked a Lady. The daughter of a Duke and the niece of the Mage Commander, and you think you can just get away with it? Where is your honor?¡±

    ¡±Men are stupid,¡± her mother had taught her¡ªit was one of her favorite lessons. Challenge their pride, honor, or manhood, and reason would abandon them, turning them to warm clay in your hands, ready to be shaped.

    Cadence tugged on Daphne¡¯s sleeve again and she shook her bodyguard¡¯s hand off with a scowl. Turning back to the offending mage, she didn¡¯t see the anger and indignation she¡¯d hoped to incite. Instead, she found clear annoyance, contempt, and maybe even a hint of disgust written across the man¡¯s handsome face as he returned her gaze.

    An unexpected and uncomfortable tightness filled her chest at his expression, only managing to piss her off more.

    ¡°What is going on here?¡± A familiar voice rang out.

    Perfect timing, she thought, giving the young man a vulpine grin while every other Core mage in the yard saluted the Mage Commander. Turning to face her uncle, her expression contorted in pain, she cried, ¡°This mage attacked me, Uncle!¡±

    Commander Taskin frowned as he looked between his niece, Lt. Ashford, and the woman in servant¡¯s clothing currently curled into a ball, being healed by the Hastings boy.

    He¡¯d known the minute he¡¯d seen Ashford¡¯s file that he was going to bring with him a wagon-load of trouble. And here he was, less than an hour past their initial meeting, already in confrontation with Daphne.

    Starfire and Fury I hate dealing with children.

 B1C51 - A Duel Between Nobles

    Quinten eyed the mage commander, wondering how this would play out.

    He could admit, knocking Lady Daphne¡¯s spoiled ass off of Star may not have been the smartest idea, but it was the best way to ensure she didn¡¯t burn the poor woman a second time. Thankfully, after Ronan¡¯s administrations, other than a pink coloring to the immediate area, it looked like the young woman would recover without a scar to show for her troubles.

    Commander Taskin waved Quinten over with a sour expression on his face. Stopping before the man, Quinten saluted with a fist to his chest and a minor bow of his head.

    Through clenched teeth, the commander asked, ¡°Did you attack Lt. Wyndham?¡±

    Quinten considered how best to respond. The gentle breeze touching his skin let him know their conversation was far from private. His eyes snapped to the ostler where Ronan helped her to a seated position. The sight prompted an idea, and Quinten made a decision. He chose to go with a variation of the truth that he thought had the best chance of side-stepping most of the current situation¡¯s issues. Facing Taskin squarely, he answered, ¡°Not exactly, Commander. I don¡¯t think what I did could be qualified as an attack. I simply stopped her from stealing my horse and further attacking my servant.¡±

    ¡°What!¡± Shrieked Daphne from across the stable yard.

    Commander Taskin closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Looking at Quinten as if he was the wronged party, he asked, ¡°You couldn¡¯t even go a day without pissing off one of the highest ranking nobles in the garrison?¡±

    Quinten frowned. ¡°You said she was a lieutenant, how is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Noble rank, not Core rank. If you don¡¯t already know there is a difference, then you had better figure it out, and quickly.¡±

    Quinten''s frown deepened. The man had a point, but looking between the Ostler¡ªwho he¡¯d just claimed was a personal servant¡ªhis horse, and the seething young woman currently glaring daggers at him. He knew that he¡¯d have still intervened had he known what he did now.

    ¡°Will you give up the horse to make this all go away?¡± Taskin asked, resigned, likely already suspecting the answer.

    ¡°No. She also wants my sword, which knowing what it is and where it came from. You know I couldn¡¯t give it to her even if I wanted to.¡±

    ¡°Then either duel or get over it. I don¡¯t have time for this. Here.¡± Commander Taskin said, tossing Quinten a small, tightly rolled paper. ¡°This came by bird this morning. By the time they brought it to my office, our meeting had already ended.¡± Turning on his heel, he paused.

    ¡°If it comes to a duel, I would be careful. She¡¯s good, but her father is better.¡±

    Quinten watched the man as he approached Daphne, considering him and his warning. Even if he had no intentions of dueling the irate mage, Quinten still appreciated the heads up. He grudgingly had to give the commander a few points of respect.

    Taskin pulled her away from her friends and summoned a privacy barrier around the two. Quinten didn¡¯t need to hear what was said to know the man was trying to convince her to let it go. Looking down at the letter in his hands, he saw the Lord Marshal¡¯s seal. Smiling softly, he tucked the rolled paper into an inner pocket, returning to Ronan and the groomswoman.

    Exchanging a look with his friend, he received a nod that everything was fine. ¡°Are you alright?¡± Quinten asked the servant, getting his first real opportunity to take in her appearance. The sun-kissed hair he¡¯d noted earlier, likely long enough to cascade over her shoulders, was currently held tightly in a braid to keep it out of her face while she worked. Her youthful face was currently coated in dust, dirt, and the sweat of remembered pain. She was attractive, in the villager-next-door kind of way. The smile he¡¯d seen when she left with Star originally was nowhere to be found as she looked at him with a mixture of distrust and apprehension.

    ¡°I¡­I¡¯m fine, my lord. Thank you for your assistance, but I really must be getting back¡ª.¡±

    The privacy barrier surrounding Taskin and Daphne burst as a wind blast from within shredded the delicate working. ¡°No! Why should I just let him get away with this?¡±

    Mentally groaning, Quinten turned. Pretty much how I saw that conversation going, he thought.

    ¡°Fine,¡± said the mage commander, his voice tight, but pitched to carry. ¡°Then this is between the two of you personally and unrelated to the Core. Don¡¯t kill or maim one another so badly that a Healer can¡¯t patch you up, or there will be consequences.¡± He stared into Daphne¡¯s burning gaze and emphasized, ¡°Even for you, my dear niece.¡±

    They held each other¡¯s eyes for a long moment before Daphne turned away. Taskin reached out and pulled her into a hug, saying, ¡°I came to see you off. I¡¯m stuck here until we start pushing the offensive in a few weeks. Be safe out there. Make your father and I proud, dear niece.¡±

    This time, the term of endearment was said with more affection and less rebuke. Quinten turned away, feeling a pang of guilt at overhearing what was clearly a private moment between family.

    Just when he thought that might have done the trick to put the situation to rest, her icy tone cut into him from behind.

    ¡°We aren¡¯t done yet, Mage. I demand compensation. You have besmirched both of our honors.¡±

    Sighing in frustration, Quinten shifted to face her, asking. ¡°Do you even know what that means?¡± Returning her glare with one of his own, he continued. ¡°If a mage, one whom you still don¡¯t even know their name, knocking you from a horse unawares besmirches your honor. It was a fragile thing to begin with. Now, either challenge me to a duel so we can get this over with or move along, Lt. Wyndham. I think we all have more important things to deal with than your bruised ego.¡±

    Sputtering in indignation, she looked at the mages behind her for support, receiving a mixed bag of reactions. The one that recognized Quinten was clearly concerned, but the others shared in Daphne¡¯s outrage.

    ¡°A duel. I challenge you to a duel. Here and now. Clear the stable yard!¡±

    *****

    ¡°You just had to comment on her ego. Tsk tsk, have I taught you nothing about women? Come on Q. They say it¡¯s us men that are fragile, but you rightly stepped in it this time.¡± Cedric lamented with a shake of his head.

    ¡°I¡¯d gladly let you duel her for me. Interested?¡± Quinten asked, half-serious.

    Cedric emphatically waved off the suggestion with both hands. ¡°Stars curse me. I¡¯m done with the daughters of Dukes. This one is all yours.¡±

    Ronan sighed in equal parts frustration and amusement as he watched the two bicker, and wondered how they always seemed to drag him into shit shows like this. The ostler, Lyla, he¡¯d come to learn while healing her, just stared at the two in unsettled befuddlement.

    ¡°Do either of you know what Gifts she has? I think her brother had Elemental, Transmutation, and Mental?¡± Quinten asked as he removed the brown outer-robe of the Core. He folded it neatly before tossing it at Cedric¡¯s face.

    ¡°Swap Transmutation for Physical¡ªotherwise the same. She has a reputation for playing with fire, literally, and for fighting with swords.¡± Ronan scratched his chin and added, ¡°A passion she picked up from her father, apparently. After hearing her demand your blade, I¡¯m going to say that is probably true.¡°

    Nodding, Quinten said, ¡°At least this shouldn¡¯t be boring.¡± Turning to the young woman, he asked, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I never caught your name.¡±

    ¡°Lyla, my lord.¡± She said in a small voice. Her gaze landing on his in the barest of touches before darting away like a startled butterfly.

    ¡°Well, Lyla. It¡¯s nice to meet you. I¡¯m Q. This is Cedric, and the gentleman who healed you is Ronan. I¡¯m sorry you were hurt trying to stop Starbrite being taken. I greatly appreciate your efforts.¡± Frowning, he asked, ¡°Do you work for the Core? I¡¯m sorry, we just arrived in the city and I¡¯m not sure how servants are contracted for services.¡±

    Shaking her head, Lyla said. ¡°No, my lord. The jobs are first come first serve, and you¡¯re paid at the end of the day for whatever work you performed.¡±

    ¡°Are you almost ready, Mage?¡± Daphne called from across the cleared stable yard.

    Is she just refusing to ask my name out of spite because of my dig? Quinten thought, oddly annoyed by the immaturity.

    ¡±Excuse me while I handle this,¡± he said. ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind, don¡¯t run off. There is more I¡¯d like to discuss.¡±

    Moving to an appropriate distance from his opponent, Quinten faced off across from Lt. Wyndham and noticed that she too had removed her outer robes.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    The Core did not require uniform items beneath their robes, but they did provide a functional set of undergarments: a fitted tunic and breeches made from close-woven, elastic fibers. They allowed for free movement and a full range of motion and were what Quinten currently wore. Not having the time, nor the inclination to replace them with something finer.

    The Duke¡¯s daughter clearly held herself to higher standards. She wore a fine brown silk tunic layered over a lace-edged chemise, the neckline and chest dyed a rich red. This was paired with brown velvet leggings, neatly tucked into dark leather boots that rose halfway up her calves. Most notably, she had set aside all her finery, except for a single ring on her right hand.

    I¡¯d wager my sword that¡¯s a manadrite ring issued to her by the Core. Giving her a thorough inspection, Quinten had to assume that if his family was able to squirrel away the piece of manadrite currently residing on his own finger, a Duke would be able to do the same and more.

    ¡°Standard mages duel, the first to forfeit or be incapacitated looses.¡± She stated, staring him down. He watched as she loosened up her muscles, twirling an arming sword in one hand and a small buckler in the other.

    Dueling really must be in her comfort zone, he thought. She¡¯s calmer now, right before combat, then she has been since Layla grabbed grabbed Star''s reins. Quinten couldn¡¯t help but feel a hint of begrudging respect for her will to fight, if nothing else.

    Drawing Astraea, he thought he heard a sharp intake of breath from across the dueling space, but couldn¡¯t be sure. Taking a moment to admire the shimmer of the manadrite forged into the weapon, Quinten spun it through a few loose forms before settling into a neutral fighting stance.

    A lady from Daphne¡¯s retinue walked to the middle of the yard and recited, ¡°We gather under the banner of honor to bear witness to a duel sanctioned by noble law and ancient tradition. On this field stand two noble warriors, each carrying the weight of their houses and the pride of their lineage.¡± Propriety met, the woman moved to the side and into open space.

    ¡°On my mark¡ªbegin!¡±

    Playing with fire. Quinten thought as he watched Daphne launch a fireball. Ronan was right, he mentally grumbled as he considered what to do with the incoming ball of heat.

    A quick look around would have told most that a stable yard, with all of its manure, dried hay, wooden carriages, and wagon parts, was not a safe place to start throwing around flames that would happily turn the entire area into a bonfire.

    Spotting a trough filled to the brim with water, Quinten summoned a tendril, saving himself the extra energy it would cost to draw moisture from the surrounding air. He lashed out with a hand, and his water whip followed. Slicing through the incoming fireball, he disrupted the magic holding it together, forcing it to disperse harmlessly and well away from anything flammable.

    ¡°Well at least you¡¯re not a total waste of magic!¡± Daphne called, sending two more balls of fire and a cone of flame pouring out at him.

    Years ago, while staying with Grandfather Henry. The Marquess responded to a request for assistance in dealing with a wildfire threatening to engulf several miles of grasslands and the farming village nestled within them. He chose to take Quinten with him, and it was during that harrowing experience that he learned an invaluable lesson.

    Sometimes, you have to fight fire with fire.

    Quinten maintained control of his water whip with his left hand, lashing out at the closest fireball while aiming Astraea¡¯s tip with the other. He released a gout of flame of his own. The two waves of fire collided, canceling each other out except for the hay scattered across the yard drifting through the air as it turned to ash. Releasing his jet of flames, Quinten was forced to sacrifice his whip. Forming it into a ball of water, he launched it at the too close fireball, the resulting impact turning into boiling steam.

    Quinten remained where he was. His Gift coursing through his body, warding off any burns the super-heated mist may have inflicted.

    Why do my fights always turn into games of cat and mouse? Quinten lamented as he stared into the blanketing fog. A quick touch of his Elemental gift let him know that she was manipulating it to keep it in place. Deciding to take a page from Elara¡¯s book, Quinten pulled a half-dozen steel orbs from his belt pouch. He sent them rotating in a wide circle that slowly expanded away from him. A calm settled over the duel, drawing out each of Quinten''s breaths as he awaited its end. His count reached five when a shower of sparks erupted from his left. Steel met steel with Daphne deflecting one of the orbs, and sending it flying far out of Quinten''s range.

    Gotcha. Quinten redirected his five remaining projectiles to intercept her. Shifting right, he snaked his way to where he expected she¡¯d intersect with his remaining balls of steel. When no new shower of sparks appeared, he had to acknowledge Daphne¡¯s strategic mind. She¡¯d realized her mistake the first time she made it.

    Quinten shifted tactics, sending the orbs through a complex grid pattern that Elara swore would cover every spot within a defined area, given enough time. It took a few seconds, but he heard the sound of a heavy blunt object meeting soft flesh, it was followed immediately by a woman¡¯s gasp.

    She must have dropped her body augment to save on energy use. Quinten shrunk the search radius around that location, bringing the spheres in tight, and sending a burst of air all around him to clear the fog from the stable yard.

    With the shrouding mist gone, there was no more use for subtlety. Daphne began deflecting, striking, and dodging the metal orbs harassing her as Quinten closed the distance, increasing the amount of magic running through his body. To his surprise, he watched as a second sword hovered, and fought beside her as she manipulated it with her Mental gift.

    That¡¯s new. He¡¯d read tales of warriors in the past using telekinesis in much the same way, but it wasn¡¯t something he¡¯d ever expected to see in person, let alone have to fight.

    They collided in a storm of clashing steel. Each strike narrowly missing unprotected flesh or deflecting off perfectly timed blocks. The exchange was a showcase of honed skill and relentless practice, unfolding like a finely choreographed dance. Every faint, counter, parry, and dodge, executed with a fluidity born from years of dedicated effort.

    She¡¯s good, Quinten thought. Very good.

    Sidestepping an overhead blow, Quinten spun away, striking out with a horizontal slash meant to take advantage of his longer reach. Daphne skillfully interposed her buckler to deflect Quinten''s attack to the side, allowing the momentum of his swing to pull him off balance and give her an opening to thrust through his non-existent guard.

    It likely would have worked, had it not been for years of training under every type of weapons master and master-at-arms, Henry Marshal could get his hands on. His continued study of weapons mastery, even after the awakening of his Gift, had resulted in some rather¡ªunorthodox fighting forms.

    Shifting his right hand to the halfway point on his blade, Quinten gripped the sharp steel, his Gift-enhanced skin saving him from slicing off a finger or cutting into his palm. Parrying Daphne¡¯s lunge like he was wielding a quarter staff, Quinten lashed out with an elbow. The point skimming the tip of her nose, forcing her to take a step back. He ducked and spun away from her secondary blade¡¯s retaliatory strike, launched in a momentary lull between fending off Quinten''s steel spheres. Slowly standing upright, he adjusted his hands to properly grip his sword once more. Neither moved as they reassessed each other, breathing quickly after such a short, but intense exchange.

    If we weren¡¯t here over her stupid pride, this would actually be kind of fun.

    With a sigh, Quinten realized he wasn¡¯t taking this as seriously as he should. This wasn¡¯t a practice bout against a friend nor training with his family. Risking a quick look toward his companions, he saw a frown pulling down the edges of Ronan¡¯s mouth, and received a slight nod from Cedric.

    Alright, he thought. This is as good a time as any.

    Quinten burst forward, moving nearly twice as fast as he had during the fight so far. He was testing a new technique, one he¡¯d practiced against Cedric during their travels. It was meant to counter fighting a shifter while in their battle form. Quinten was comparatively slower than Cedric¡¯s combined use of Physical and Transmutation, even with him pushing his Physical gift to its limit. It just wasn¡¯t capable of bridging the gap. His hope, was that by combining multiple Gifts of his own, he could effectively manage the same thing without being able to Shift.

    Power flowed through his legs, launching him forward. At the same time, a gust of wind, pushed him from behind, further amplifying his speed. Quinten could have summoned more wind, or launched himself harder, but he still struggled to control his body while in the air. Not that he had the time to worry about it just then, not when he closed the distance in less time then it took his heart to beat.

    If this had been a real fight, he could have ended it, and her, right then and there with his blade. Instead, he let his momentum slam his shoulder into her chest, trusting that his Physical gift would reinforce his body enough to withstand the impact.

    Daphne was sent careening across the stable yard. Sending dust, dirt, and hay flying through the air in her wake. She stumbled getting back to her feet and failed to adjust to Quinten''s new and explosive movements. The shock of his attack had broken the mental connection to her second sword, sending it skittering beneath a nearby wagon. She was unable to get repositioned in time to do more than give a startled swipe of her remaining blade, an attack that Quinten easily parried.

    He continued charging forward. Placing himself firmly within her guard, he flowed into the next form of Garrick¡¯s favorite disarming technique, and struck with the pommel of his sword, right into the meat of Daphne¡¯s shoulder. She let out a hiss of pain that he knew from experience, her sword falling from limp fingers to clatter against stone.

    Having learned more about the woman in their few short exchanges, then he would have in a week on the road, Quinten knew the fight wasn¡¯t over.

    Ducking under a left-handed haymaker, he stayed in tight, stepping to her side. He lashed out once more with Astraea¡¯s pommel. This time connecting with Daphne¡¯s kidney and forcing a cry from her clenched lips. Her augmented body doing all it could to fight through the debilitating pain. Kicking her in the back of the knee, Quinten clamped down on an exposed arm and used it to lever her off the ground. He brought her down in a full-body slam, its hollow thump echoing in the onlooker¡¯s silence. Blood, spittle, and breath blew out from his opponent''s mouth with the impact, coating the ground beside her.

    He summoned a layer of dirt, covering her up to the neck before turning the whole thing to stone, and ensuring she couldn¡¯t recover and continue fighting. Quinten stared down at the defeated woman, panting from the heavy use of his Gift in a new and intensive way. He could feel the energy loss catching up to him, and a muscle in his back twinged from his failure to entirely control his increased speed.

    *****

    It took several seconds for Daphne to regain consciousness, and several more before her vision settled enough she could see clearly. The first thing she noticed was the baby-blue sky, taunting her with its peaceful existence. Second, coming quickly on the first, was that she couldn¡¯t move. Flexing her Gift, she channeled magic through her arms, trying to free them from their restraints to no avail.

    A flicker of movement in her periphery snapped her head to the side, bringing with it a stabbing sensation that ran down her torso. Broad shoulders, clad in the standard Core-issued tunic and breeches. An ornate blade, veined with manadrite, glinted faintly from where it rested comfortably against the man¡¯s shoulder as its bearer strode away.

    The sight brought everything back in a rush.

    Picking out a stunning black mare to take with her to her new unit. Having some commoner tell her which horse she could and could not ride. Singeing the girl and being knocked from the saddle. Her uncle and the duel¡ªthe duel she¡¯d lost.

    Daphne stared at the young man as he rejoined his friends. She couldn¡¯t free her arms, but a quick shift of her fingers allowed her to tug on a passing breeze. Bringing with it the only thing that mattered in that moment, the name of the mage who¡¯d bested her.

    Quinten.

 B1C52 - How About A Job?

    Quinten stopped his march a few feet away from where his friends stood and dug in his robes for the letter from his grandfather.

    He broke the small seal with his thumb and felt the tension release as the scroll unwound in his palm. Pinching the top corner between fore and middle fingers, he began to read.

    Q,

    I am in the field but will be returning to Avoncross shortly. Join me in the morning for breakfast¡ªthere is much we need to discuss.

    Bring your friends and stay close. There are those here that you would do well to avoid.

    Yours,

    Henry

    The note was short. Anything carried by bird would have to be by necessity. A slow smile spread across Quinten''s face at the news. It had been far too long since he¡¯d seen his Grandfather.

    Peering over his shoulder, the smile faltered as he realized the man¡¯s warning may have come a little too late.

    *****

    ¡°Would you like to join us for lunch?¡± Quinten asked, as he resettled his outer-Core robe around his shoulders.

    Layla stared at him for a long moment. A mixture of emotions radiated off of her and pushed against Quinten''s wall of Empathy. Fear, uncertainty, awe, each fighting for dominance, creating a jumbled mess inside of her. Coupled with the energy he¡¯d just spent dueling, it was threatening to give him a headache.

    Taking a step back, Quinten raised his hands in a calming gesture. ¡°I understand this is a lot to process. We¡¯ll go somewhere close and get something to eat and drink. I¡¯m sure there is a tavern nearby, and it will give us time to talk.¡± His stomach followed up the statement with a loud growl, putting his own reason for the request on display.

    She watched him closely. Eventually, slowly, she nodded her head and accepted his offer.

    Quinten turned toward Ronan, opening his mouth to ask a question when Daphne called out to him, her voice carrying across the stable yard.

    ¡°You won. Now, what do you want, Mage¡­?¡±

    Peering over his shoulder, Quinten saw one of her four friends squatted beside her, transmuting the stone back to earth and freeing the trapped woman.

    ¡°Ashford,¡± Quinten reminded her. ¡°Lt. Ashford, and I haven¡¯t decided yet.¡±

    Sitting up slowly, Daphne¡¯s dark hair fell forward, sticking to the sweat coating her forehead.

    ¡°That is not how this works! I can¡¯t just walk around in your debt,¡± she protested.

    Quinten shrugged. ¡°I didn¡¯t want this duel in the first place. You did. And now you owe me.¡±

    A long silence passed between them, hazel eyes meeting grey as they glared across the yard.

    The stand-off ended when the other mage pulled her to her feet. Daphne stuck out her chin in defiance. ¡°I¡¯m not marrying you. My father would never allow it.¡±

    ¡°What!¡± Quinten asked, his sword falling from his shoulder and nearly taking off a toe before he caught it. ¡°No¡ªwhy would¡ªwhat?¡± He said, the color draining from his face. Hearing Cedric¡¯s muffled laughter did nothing to help the situation¡ªit only deepened his embarrassment.

    ¡°I said¡ª¡±

    ¡°I heard what you said!¡± Quinten snapped, cutting her off.

    In a stroke of good timing, Garrick burst through the stable yard doors. Hurrying over, the older man whispered. ¡°Starfire, my lord. A duel with a Wyndham?¡±

    ¡°It couldn¡¯t be helped.¡± He said with a shrug, thankful for the interruption.

    Quinten watched the experienced soldier take in the scene. His eyes scanning over Layla, standing amidst their group, the pink handprint still visible on her arm. He sighed before nodding, the lines around his mouth deepening slightly. ¡°I have rooms booked at a nearby inn. Would you like me to show you the way, my lord?¡±

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    *****

    The smell of roasted chicken wafted from the three wooden platters as the barmaid skillfully balanced them along one arm, placing each in an open space as she made her way down the table.

    Taking a large whiff, Quinten''s stomach growled loudly. Earning him a ribbing from those arranged around the table. Except from one, seated at its edge. Staring into the drink placed before her, she held it with both hands, hoping that her own ravenous stomach wouldn¡¯t be heard.

    Pound, pound, pound.

    Cedric gathered everyone¡¯s attention, knocking and spilling his tankard on the table before him.

    ¡°I think we can all agree our hero and friend gave a marvelous showing of himself earlier today, can we not?¡± A round of nods answered his question.

    ¡°Now the real question¡ª¡± He paused. Taking a deep draw of ale, he grinned through the foam coating his upper lip as he basked in their annoyance at his delay. ¡°When¡¯s the wedding? And will I have the honor of being your best man?¡±

    Laughter rang off the tavern walls, and Quinten failed miserably at controlling his blush. He only lasted a moment before barking out a laugh of his own. Which didn¡¯t stop him from using his Gift. Drawing out the remnants of Cedric¡¯s ale in retaliation and adding it to the empty tankard of the man at the table beside them. Who continued softly snoring, half-sprawled across the wooden surface.

    Ronan pulled Cedric down to his seat on the bench beside him and the rest of the group began to eat.

    ¡°Ex¡­ Excuse me¡­? Why did you invite me to join you?¡±

    The table quieted at the question. Five sets of attention fixating on the small voice, almost inaudible against the background noise and their own shenanigans.

    From across the table and one seat down, Quinten cleared his throat. ¡°A few reasons. The largest being that I wanted to apologize. You were hurt trying to stop someone from taking Starbrite. Not only do I appreciate it personally, I feel like it is my duty to repay you.¡± Looking down at her empty plate, he added, ¡°A hot meal seemed like a good way to start.¡±

    The young woman blushed when Lastrel, whistling a tune in a false attempt at subterfuge, slipped a roll onto the other woman¡¯s plate, earning a laugh from the table.

    Quinten grinned, but let it fall so she¡¯d know he was serious when she met his gaze once more. ¡°Secondly, because I would like for you to come work for me.¡±

    *****

    Layla stared at the young man. The mage, giving her a boyish smile like he hadn¡¯t just beaten down a Lady¡ªa Duke¡¯s daughter¡ªon her behalf less than an hour ago.

    Who are these people?

    Looking between her table mates. All but one appeared younger than herself. Though with mages, that was hard to tell sometimes.

    She and I might be the same age, Layla thought. Meeting the twinkling blue-eyed gaze of the woman beside her.

    ¡°Work for you¡­?¡±

    A dimple in his left cheek appeared as his smile shifted, likely because of her tone.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. Leaning back and waving to get the barmaid¡¯s attention.

    Facing her once more, he continued. ¡°It has recently come to my attention that I need to take better care of my horse. I need a groomsman, an ostler. Are you interested in the position?¡±

    The barmaid pushed her way through the tables, having to turn her body at an angle in order to squeeze by.

    ¡°How may I be of service, my lord?¡± Judy asked, the carved wooden nameplate clipped to the front of her modest attire helpfully serving its purpose.

    ¡°A jug of water for the table when you have a moment to spare, please.¡±

    The main area of the inn had slowly filled over the last half hour and business was beginning to pick up.

    With a quick curtsy that bumped the sleeping man behind her, she whipped around scowling, likely believing someone had just copped a feel.

    Grabbing the man by the ear, she hauled him to his feet. He spluttered and swiped the air, trying to get his bearings after the painful wake up.

    ¡°Rodger! Just because the owner is your brother doesn¡¯t mean you get to pass out drunk in front of guests. It looks bad on our fine establishment.¡± Shaking her head, she picked up his half-full cup and added. ¡°You didn¡¯t even finish your ale.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t?¡± Rodger slurred. He swayed, swiping the tankard from her hand and downed it in one go, all the while being led by the ear toward the back door.

    In the silence that followed, Layla heard the grizzled veteran across from her mumble. ¡°Stars above, I think I¡¯m in love.¡± Earning a snort and a grin from the young lord that¡¯d just offered to bring her into his service.

    ¡°Why me? Because of this?¡± She asked. Holding up her arm, the pink of where she¡¯d been burned was still slightly visible, but fading fast.

    Meeting her eyes, he gave her a slight nod. ¡°Partially. Like I said. I feel responsible.¡± He watched her for a moment, and Layla found herself swimming in his golden gaze while she waited for him to continue. ¡°I heard you earlier. When you took Star to the stables after we first arrived. You spoke to her with so much care and appreciation¡­. I¡¯d planned to leave you a large tip, but after this afternoon¡­¡± He trailed off, letting the rest go unsaid.

    Layla blushed. She¡¯d always talked to horses as if they were people, and it had been a source of ridicule on more than one occasion. Changing the subject, she asked.

    ¡°What would working for you entail, position and duties?¡±

    Quinten smiled. That dimple reappearing as he answered.

    ¡°You would be my personal groomswoman. You would be in charge of taking care of Star, as well as assisting with the other¡¯s horses as necessary.¡±

    Back and forth they went, while everyone ate their fill. Lastrel kept offering more and more food without comment as Layla cleared plate after plate, unable to stop herself. This being the finest, and first proper meal she¡¯d had in weeks.

    Layla risked offending her prospective employer half a dozen times with the questions she asked, but she¡¯d learned early on that what might look like an opportunity could be anything but. She¡¯d rather miss the chance than get burned by what she didn¡¯t know.

    ¡°Do we have an agreement?¡± Quinten asked fifteen minutes later as he refilled everyone¡¯s water cups with the last of the pitcher.

    ¡°On one condition.¡± She said, holding her breath.

    Quinten raised a brow, waiting for her to continue.

    ¡°I have a younger brother.¡±

 B1C53 - State of Affairs

    Capital City of Gremelda

    Mage¡¯s Council

    Archmage Highbridge stormed through the halls of the Mage¡¯s Council building, working her way to its lowest levels.

    The report clutched in her hand, shaking as she squeezed it, her nails threatening to tear through. It wasn¡¯t just the contents of the report that had her scowling in a way that set even senior mages within the Mage¡¯s Council to turning their gazes and pressing themselves back against the nearest wall in an attempt to avoid her ire.

    No, it was the unmistakable feeling that she¡¯d been played and was only finding out about it after the fact.

    Reaching her destination, Elowen pulsed her Gift. The solid thud, thud, thud of her telekinetic knock echoing down the hall with authority and satisfaction. It dimmed the fire burning within her slightly, a necessity when dealing with this particular member of the Council.

    Nearly a minute passed before the locking mechanism securing the door shut started to rotate. The metallic clack of gears shifting against each other was audible even through the thick wooden door. It swung open on silent hinges a moment later, giving access to a warmly lit room that few dared enter.

    Striding in confidently, Elowen stopped before the large wooden desk and tossed the creased report onto its bare surface. The sensitive documents that once covered it now cleared away.

    ¡°You failed.¡± Elowen said, her words hanging in the air like an omen.

    ¡°Did I?¡± Asked the room¡¯s other occupant.

    The slight amusement hidden within their tone tightened the muscles along her back. Her chin rose of its own accord. ¡°The boy¡¯s still alive, isn¡¯t he?¡±

    ¡°What did you expect?¡±

    Elowen didn¡¯t need to see their brow behind the white mask to know it¡¯d risen in question.

    ¡°I ordered his end, and what did I get in return? Eight dead mages and a request for investigation from the Mage Core. If the Crown hears about this, it will only be a matter of time before the Office of Inquisition sticks their nose where it doesn¡¯t belong.¡±

    In the privacy of her own office, Reven wasn¡¯t wearing the purple outer robe of a Council Member. It made the shrugging of her shoulders readily apparent.

    ¡°What did you expect?¡± Said Reven, leaning back in her chair and placing her feet up on the desk as if she hadn¡¯t a care in the world. ¡°I told you I needed time to put together the right team. It was you that demanded I send who was available. To¡ª¡°Get it done before the idiot get¡¯s himself killed by a savage¡¯s lucky arrow¡±¡ªI believe were your exact words.¡±

    Elowen stared at the white-masked woman before her. Seething internally, but keeping the emotion out of her expression. While the position of Archmage was a nominated position, even if it did usually reside with the most powerful mage in the realm, the position of Reven was not. The current Reven would choose and train their own successor. The mask passed on from master to prot¨¦g¨¦.

    It created a murkiness within the realm that helped balance the power between the King and the Archmage¡ªa safeguard against the Archmage overthrowing and replacing the Royal Family. Reven¡¯s duty extended beyond managing the kingdom¡¯s spy network. It ensured that if such an event occurred, the Archmage wouldn¡¯t live long enough to enjoy their new reign.

    ¡°I know about the deal you made with Edmund.¡±

    The white mask did little to hide the scrunching of the face behind the mask as the woman smiled.

    ¡°Then you know the deal was struck before you ordered his death, and I still did as you asked. Perhaps the stars decided that he needs to live long enough to repay my marker.¡±

    *****

    Avon River Crossing

    Western Marches

    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± Cedric said, watching the diminutive and angry boy following behind Layla as she directed the inn¡¯s stable hands in prepping the group¡¯s horses.

    A soft smile that started at his eyes spread across Quinten''s face. ¡°I¡¯m sure. He¡¯s putting up a brave front, but he¡¯s worried that one of us has designs on his sister. She¡¯s all he has, and he¡¯s scared.¡±

    After lunch the day before, Layla separated from the group to fetch Declan, her younger brother. At fourteen, he already thought of himself as the man of the family and took the news that a bunch of young lords¡ªeven if technically, it was only Quinten¡ªhad hired his sister as their personal servant, poorly.

    On their return, the pair had stopped a dozen feet away as soon as Quinten and company came into view. His curiosity getting the better of him, he pulled on a passing breeze and directed their conversation toward Lastrel, Ronan, Cedric, and himself.

    ¡°They look like a bunch of perverts.¡± Declan said, rolling back onto his heels and pulling against his sister¡¯s restraining hand. ¡°I don¡¯t think this is a good idea.¡±

    Layla¡¯s head whipped up in what Quinten could only guess as a bid to ensure they weren¡¯t close enough to overhear. Leaning down, she said in a low voice, ¡°I told you what happened. Why would they defend me if they had eyes on me?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be daft. If they get into your good graces, it makes it easier to get into your knickers.¡±

    Gasping, she demanded, ¡°Declan Stroud, bright stars blind me. Where did you hear such a thing?¡±

    Quinten watched the boy¡¯s ears turn red, tucking his head down. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll discuss this later. Don¡¯t think I won¡¯t remember.¡± Lowering her head slightly so they were at eye level, she brushed some dirt off of the boy¡¯s cheek and said. ¡°Behave yourself and don¡¯t forget to address them as m¡¯lord.¡±

    Layla rose to her full height, one hand still holding her brother¡¯s shoulder as she guided him. Stopping before Quinten, she pushed him forward into a slight bow and dipped a curtsy of her own.

    ¡°My lord, this is my brother, Declan.¡± She said, talking to his feet. When several seconds passed without a response, she looked up to see Quinten looking over the young boy.

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    He can¡¯t be much older than I was when I went to live with grandfather Ed and grandmother.

    ¡°Declan, hmmm?¡± Quinten said, scratching his chin. ¡°Good name, that. So, what are you good at?¡±

    The boy¡¯s face scrunched slightly as he looked hesitantly toward his sister. ¡°What am I good at, my lord?¡±

    ¡°Yes! What valuable services do you offer? I can¡¯t just hire you out of my good graces, now can I?¡± Quinten asked, fighting to hold back the grin pulling hard at the corners of his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cedric turn away¡ªhaving already lost his own battle to keep a straight face.

    A look of horror dawned on the boy¡¯s face as the color drained away. He reflexively took a small step back, bumping into Layla. The tips of whose ears turned red in embarrassment that they¡¯d been overheard, her body tightening as it prepared her for flight.

    It was then that Lastrel punched Quinten''s arm in admonishment. ¡°Your giving them a fright, you terror. Can you not see the boy is paler than Ronan¡¯s lily-white ass?¡± The joke was too much and the three young men burst into laughter. The sound allowed Layla¡¯s shoulders to relax, and she placed a comforting hand on Declan¡¯s arm, letting him know everything was fine.

    Quinten''s smile turned into a rueful grin at the memory. Shaking his head, he approached, and Layla brought Star forward. Climbing into the saddle, he nodded at his new servant and led Star out onto the street. After Cedric, Ronan, and Garrick joined him, he clicked his tongue and gave the horse her heading.

    *****

    ¡°There he is!¡± Roared Henry Ashford, Lord Marshall and commander of the kingdom¡¯s military, as he barreled past his aide-de-campo, nearly knocking the man over in his rush to wrap Quinten in a bearhug.

    Laughing, Quinten returned the embrace, earning a grunt from the older man.

    ¡°Let me get a look at you,¡± Grandfather demanded as he held Quinten at arm¡¯s length. ¡°You look more and more like your father every day.¡± He said, a sad smile crossing his face. ¡°Except for those eyes. He¡¯d have killed for your mother¡¯s eyes, would have made all the ladies swoon.¡±

    Shaking his head, Quinten just smiled, happy to be with family once again.

    His grandfather shook Cedric and Garrick¡¯s hands and, after being introduced to Ronan, shepherded them all into the Army Headquarters building and into his office.

    To call it an office would be misleading. It was a suite of rooms, each designed with different functions in mind. Grandfather led them past several before ushering them into a private dining room. The smell of eggs, bacon, sausage, and more already filled the room as they entered.

    They each took a seat at the table and, at Grandfather¡¯s nod, filled their plates.

    Quinten felt his grandfather¡¯s eyes on him as he ate. Looking up, he met the man¡¯s piercing blue gaze.

    ¡°Tell me, boy. What have you gotten yourself into? Everything I hear out here is a week late and twice removed. I want to hear it straight from the source.¡±

    And Quinten told him. Starting with the events of the night of the Academy¡¯s mid-year ball, through their time in the palace dungeons, to the assassination attempt in Darrowford, ending with his retelling of his dual the day before. He tried to stick to the key facts, summarizing like a military report, but after Cedric¡¯s third interjection, Ronan joined in. The three each taking turns telling pieces of the tale. By the end, Grandfather and Garrick, much of what he heard being new to his ears, stared at the younger men oddly.

    ¡°If it were anyone else telling me this story, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d believe them.¡± Quinten''s grandfather finally admitted. ¡°I¡¯m honestly surprised you¡¯re still alive after all that. One thing is for certain though, the Archmage wants you dead.¡±

    Quinten, Cedric, and Ronan exchanged looks. After a moment, Quinten asked. ¡°It was her then? We had our suspicions, but¡­¡±

    Grandfather waved off the remark and said. ¡°As sure as a suspicion can be. All the time I spent on the King¡¯s Council with her. Her mind works a certain way and this would fit what I¡¯ve seen. The only time I can remember her getting this worked up is just before her husband¡¯s death.¡±

    Garrick leaned over, lowering his voice and looking around the corners of the room as if worried she might overhear him. ¡°And his mistress, if you believe the rumors.¡±

    Quinten''s grandfather snorted a laugh behind his napkin, using it to wipe his face. He sat back and sighed. ¡°You¡¯re star-cursed either way, son. Sent to fight and die in the war or survive and deal with her making life in the Capital a terror.¡±

    Cedric leaned forward, placing both of his elbows on the table, and asked. ¡°Is that it then? Is there nothing we can do?¡±

    Staring off into the distance, Grandfather tapped his first two fingers in a rhythm against the tabletop, considering the question. He looked at each of them in turn, his gaze lingering on Ronan the longest before nodding as if to himself.

    ¡°It¡¯s complicated¡­ You¡¯re too valuable to just murder in your sleep. Which, mind you, is another reason that I believe the attack in Darrowford wasn¡¯t crown-sanctioned¡ª¡±

    Quinten cut him off with a question, his voice laced with frustration. ¡°How was it not? You said it yourself, I was sent to fight and die. Starfire, I¡¯m pretty sure the king said much the same thing when we met with him.¡±

    Once more, Quinten''s grandfather waved away the question. ¡°That was the Archmage whispering in his ear and preying on his insecurities. You know he only has three Gifts himself?¡± The last was said with a raised brow, but he didn¡¯t wait for a response continuing. ¡°And there you stood. Younger, stronger, and having just wiped the floor with one of the kingdom¡¯s most respected dualists.¡±

    Grandfather shook his head. ¡°She got to him alright, but give it time. The queen will work her own magic and make him see reason. A male mage with four gifts? He needs you making babies more than he does fighting wars or buried in the dirt.¡±

    Quinten couldn¡¯t hide his blush and laughed along with everyone else.

    ¡°Speaking of the war¡­¡± He said, trailing off uncomfortably. ¡°Do you have any influence over our orders in the Mage Core? Any sway?¡±

    Pursing his lips, Grandfather grimaced. ¡°Not at an individual level. Why? Did they move you out of that cavalry unit?¡±

    Shaking his head, Quinten looked at Cedric. ¡°Not me. They assigned Cedric to the Skyrunners out of Southbend. Ronan and I are still garrisoned in Northreach¡­¡±

    Grandfather¡¯s brows rose at the news before lowering as he squinted at the young man. ¡°Learned to fly, did you? Lucky bastard.¡± Turning to Quinten with a regretful smile, he said. ¡°Not a chance I can have him moved to Northreach. Other than the Core¡¯s command unit, there isn¡¯t another they micromanage more than the Skyrunners.¡± Shifting his gaze back to Cedric, he added. ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation, you will be very well protected.¡±

    Sighing, Quinten nodded. He¡¯d expected as much. ¡°It was worth a try. How are we managing against the Drakovians? It¡¯s been weeks since you sent word.¡±

    Pushing his chair back with a sigh, Quinten¡¯s grandfather indicated for them to follow. ¡°There hasn¡¯t been much to update in weeks.¡± He said, leading them into what was clearly the Lord Marshal¡¯s War Room. Stopping before a large map with pins, tags, and markers placed all along the theater of battle. ¡°We¡¯re fighting a defensive war. One in which the enemy has the greater mobility. Whoever this new Warlord is¡ªhe¡¯s a crafty one. He keeps their main horde moving just along the border, but sends out war bands of a few hundred to slip past our fortifications and attack the settlements. By the time we are able to respond, they are gone with their spoils and new slaves. If we send out screens of our own, they avoid them or retreat at first sight.¡±

    He pointed at each of the thirteen fortifications arranged along the Rivennan border. ¡°There used to be only six of these, but with the Mage Core¡¯s help, we were able to construct seven more. It hasn¡¯t been enough. Instead of five to six hours response time we¡¯re down to two and it¡¯s still not quick enough.¡±

    Pausing to take a drink from the glass he¡¯d brought with him from the dining room, Grandfather leaned heavily against a nearby desk. ¡°There have been a few times we were able to fool the war band leader into attacking or they were too inexperienced to notice our advantage. We won those battles handily, but they are few and far between.¡± As the older man¡¯s tone shifted into one Quinten recognized¡ªone that signaled a familiar refrain¡ªhe leaned in.

    ¡°We need a decisive fight. One where we can truly make use of our mages and their Gifts. These hit-and-run tactics are only nipping at our hindquarters. I expect that will change in the next few months. As the weather begins to cool, I can¡¯t imagine the enemy like the idea of weathering a snowy winter here on the open plains any more than we do.¡± Grandfather stared into his glass of water, lost in thought, before he shook himself and turned to Quinten with a forced smile.

    ¡°Enough of that.¡± He said, the stilted smile shifting slightly into an honest smirk. ¡°What¡¯s this I hear about you marrying a Duke¡¯s daughter?¡±

 B1C54 - Northreach

    It was the third day since their arrival at Avoncross and the time for goodbyes had finally come. Quinten and Ronan waited while Cedric¡¯s belongings were loaded onto the wagon destined for Southbend. His orders had him shipping out a day earlier than Quinten and Ronan, their journey to Northreach being notably shorter.

    ¡°You know what this means don¡¯t you?¡± Quinten asked, moving forward to stand beside his friend.

    Grunting, Cedric said, ¡°That I won¡¯t be there to keep you out of trouble?¡±

    Quinten''s grin, was quickly joined by Cedric¡¯s, both knowing the words to be a lie. ¡°The sooner you learn to do more than hover, the sooner you can start delivering messages to Northreach.¡±

    Cedric sighed, his shoulders dipping. ¡°Or you could learn to fly, then you could come join me in the Skyrunners.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll get right on that¡­¡± he said dryly.

    Turning, he looked past Quinten, eyeing Ronan. ¡°You¡¯re going to keep him alive for me, won¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Says the loon flying hundreds of feet in the air.¡± Quinten said with a snort. ¡°We¡¯re going to be fine. All of us. We¡¯ll meet back here in a couple of months, three to four at most, with stories to tell.¡±

    Quinten turned back to watching the men loading the wagon, but Cedric held Ronan¡¯s gaze until the other man dipped his head in acknowledgement.

    When everything was stored, and they couldn¡¯t hold back the tide any longer, Cedric hugged each of them tightly.

    ¡°Take care of each other. Do what you need to, just make sure you do it in one piece.¡± He said. His voice tight like his throat wanted to hold back the words.

    ¡°We will.¡± Quinten said. ¡°Stay high and far out of range of those Drakovian bows. See you on the other side, brother.¡±

    *****

    The journey to Northreach was uneventful. The landscape changed from the marches fed by the Avon River to the famed, wide-open grasslands of the plains. The trip itself took two days and with Ronan and Quinten being the only Lieutenants in the group traveling north, leadership of their fellow mages naturally fell to them.

    In an attempt to ease the holes that Cedric, and to a lesser extent, Lastrel¡¯s, absences created. Quinten threw himself into the role. Making an effort to speak with the four of them and ensure they each had what they needed before they arrived at their unit later that day.

    As an aside, Declan was a source of entertainment. Garrick, having decided the boy needed to be trained as a valet for Quinten. The only issue being that the old man was a master-at-arms and had no true idea how to go about training someone for the position.

    Quinten watched on in amusement as the veteran barked commands to the boy as he attempted to arrange Quinten''s attire for the day. They were standing in his tent and without digging into the trunks currently stowed amongst the baggage train. There really weren¡¯t many options.

    ¡°You want your new master to walk about like some kind of mismatched fool? A court jester, maybe?¡± Garrick demanded, inspecting the boy¡¯s choices.

    Peering over from where he stood shaving, Quinten frowned. ¡°They are both brown, are they not?¡±

    ¡°Clashing shades of brown, my lord.¡± Garrick said with a wink. Quinten shook his head and, with one final draw of the straight razor, he began wiping off his face with a cloth.

    They would arrive at Northreach later that day and Quinten wanted to make a good impression on the men and woman he would be leading to war, and for some, their deaths.

    Finally dressed, Quinten exited the tent. He carried his overnight bag through the night¡¯s camp. Nodding at the few who were already up, and saying hello to a pair of mages who¡¯d made the journey with him from Gremelda, that were now assigned to one of the infantry regiments based out of Northreach. Eventually, he made it to where a brushed and well fed Star stood picketed. He set the bag beside his saddle and inspected the mare. He¡¯d always taken pride in caring for her, but he had to admit, he¡¯d never seen her look finer.

    ¡°Well hello. Aren¡¯t you looking beautiful this morning?¡± Quinten said as he brushed down the horse¡¯s neck with his palm. She nuzzled into him, searching for an apple. Star searched him. And Quinten grinned when she found the treat hidden in his robe pocket.

    ¡°You¡¯ll spoil her if you keep that up, my lord.¡± Layla said, approaching him with Garrick and Ronan¡¯s horses, Gendry and Molly, respectfully.

    Quinten smiled. ¡°I can¡¯t be doing worse than you already are.¡± He said with a raised brow.

    The groomswoman tactfully avoided answering by tying the two alone the same picket as Star.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be joining with my unit today or tomorrow. I¡¯m not sure how that will affect your duties with Star and the others, with it being a cavalry unit. I expect we will need to keep them ready to ride at a moment¡¯s notice. While there will be soldiers tasked with the job, I¡¯ll expect you to tell me if the work is too much or if you have any issues with the men.¡±

    She met his gaze, letting him know she understood, and nodded. ¡°I will, my lord.¡± She paused for a moment before adding, ¡°My lord?¡±

    When he nodded for her to continue, she asked. ¡°Declan. Are you¡­ Do I need to find him other work once we make Northreach, my lord?¡±

    Quinten frowned. ¡°Is he unhappy? I can tell Garrick to ease up on the boy. He¡¯s just not really used to working with children.¡±

    Layla¡¯s eyes widened, and she shook her head. ¡°No, my lord! It¡¯s not that, it¡¯s just¡­ I kind of guilted you bringing him on¡ª¡±

    Holding up his hand, Quinten stopped her. ¡°He is fine, as long as he¡¯s not unhappy. I¡¯m fine with the current arrangement. If, over time, Declan realizes he doesn¡¯t like being a valet, we can find him something else to do that he may actually enjoy.¡±

    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    She let out a heavy sigh, smiling. ¡°Thank you, my lord. You don¡¯t know how much the opportunity means to him, to us.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re good at what you do.¡± Quinten said, turning away from the woman and admiring Starbrite once more. ¡°It¡¯s only fair that you are given a chance to prove it.¡±

    With his back to her, he didn¡¯t see the blush that colored Layla¡¯s cheeks. But, with the flare from his Empathy, Quinten didn¡¯t need to in order to know she appreciated his comment.

    Going to have to be careful with that one, he thought. A romp on a cold night was one thing, but he had no intention of playing with anyone¡¯s heartstrings, let alone with someone who now depended on him.

    *****

    If Quinten had been tasked with creating a fortification from scratch, it would very likely have resembled Northreach in its construction. Based on the sun-bleached stone, he knew this fort wasn¡¯t one of the newly constructed defenses the Core had assisted in building, but magic had clearly played a role in its creation.

    Rising above the open plains atop a gently sloping rise, the yellowed-stone bastion bathed in the sun like a forgotten stand of corn after harvest time. Its outer walls, raised and transmuted with magic fused seamlessly with the earth itself before rising thirty feet in height. Crenelations ran their length as protection against the favored weapon of the Drakovian horde. Watchtowers were placed at each corner of the battlements, housing a number of ballistae and platforms intended for the Gifted to work their magics.

    While the fort had likely been created with the expectation of housing several hundred troops, the influx of over a one to two thousand soldiers and their accompanying mages required the erection of a field camp along the base of the southern wall, well within reach of the main gate in the event of attack.

    As they approached, Quinten took in the deep dry moat encircling the fortress, its sides sloped and turned to stone to make the footing of any shod beast impossible. A quick survey pointed out the numerous drain ports along the moat that would allow for its traditional use.

    The main gate, with its metal-reinforced heavy ironwood door, sat behind a double-portcullis. Above which were rows and rows of murder holes spanning the length of the tunnel. Quinten felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He would have hated the idea of traversing the death trap were he in the attacker¡¯s shoes.

    Passing through the tunnel in neat lines, Quinten followed the riders before him with one quick look back at the mages behind him. Within the outer walls, a second ring of defenses formed an inner keep. Its walls formed out of guard barracks, blacksmith halls, and armories. Along one wall, a sizable stable ran, housing the nearly three hundred horses and spares that made up Quinten''s future command. A quick glance showed them suspiciously empty.

    A large stone tablet was hung off the side of a rampart as a legend. Buildings and units were indicated with numbers telling where each could be found. NRLC or Northreach Light Cavalry was assigned to building twelve located right beside the stables.

    Dismounting, Quinten handed his reins to Declan and pulled Ronan to the side. ¡°I¡¯ll have Declan or Garrick come find you later, so we get a meal and check-in.¡±

    Ronan nodded, his eyes on a cart as it rolled by. The buzzing of flies and the gore covered leg left dangling overtop the latched rear, an indicator of its grisly contents.

    Quinten gave his friend a shake. ¡°It¡¯s going to be OK. That¡¯s the sort of thing you¡¯re here to help with.¡±

    ¡°Yea?¡± Ronan asked, his eyes holding that same look he¡¯d carried since Darrowford. ¡°And how many of them will I be able to help? How many can I actually save?¡±

    Squeezing his friend¡¯s shoulder, Quinten said, ¡°As many as you are able and nothing more. It¡¯s not on you to stop death, Ronan. You¡¯re just here to kick it in shin from time to time.¡±

    A soft smile touched the other man¡¯s lips, and he nodded slightly. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can. See you later, Q.¡±

    *****

    Entering the building marked with the number twelve, Quinten walked into a large open area with dozens of desks that made up the ground floor. The Army and Core administrators sitting at the desks, identifiable by the insignia sewn onto their clothing, rushed back and forth in a mad scramble. Quinten approached the nearest worker wearing the stars and staff of the Core.

    ¡°Excuse me.¡±

    The man sitting at the desk finished their sentence before setting down the quill and looking up.

    ¡°What do you need?¡±

    Quinten frowned. Giving the man a once over and seeing no rank, realized the man before him was contracted and not actively serving in the Core.

    ¡°I need to report in. I¡¯ve just arrived.¡±

    The man looked Quinten over and, upon seeing his rank, he smiled unpleasantly.

    ¡°Ahh, the new Lieutenant. If you take the stairs to the third floor. I believe the acting Lt. is still here. They chose not to ride out with everyone else in case you showed up today.¡±

    He thanked the man. Putting his face to memory so he could avoid interacting with them in the future, and made his way to the third floor.

    The stairs exited into a small landing that lead into a long walkway that split the entire floor. Immediately to the right were a dozen desks with Core administrators quietly working away. The mad rush infecting the ground floor, not having reached this level. Opposite the desks, along the left wall, were four evenly spaced doors. The first two were labeled conference rooms one and two. The remaining two had the ranks BM and Lt. inscribed into them.

    The heavy treads of Quinten''s boots striking the wooden floors seemed overly loud to his ears, and it was only then that he¡¯d noticed the quiet murmur of conversation and the scratching of quill on paper had stopped with his passing. Approaching the two door, both inconveniently shut, Quinten knocked on the closest. His fist striking right between the blacked letters.

    If his steps had echoed, his knock sounded like thunder breaking in the awkward silence behind him.

    He waited. When no response came, he tried once more.

    Knock knock knock.

    ¡°She¡¯s in the LT office, my lord.¡±

    Quinten looked over his shoulder at the middle-aged man who¡¯d spoken. They¡¯d started to rise but stopped halfway through and now stood in an uncomfortable looking stoop.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Quinten said with a nod, turning and walking the final ten steps to reach what would soon be his office.

    Pausing before the door, his hand froze mid-air, he thought. They would have heard me through the wall. After a brief moment, he decided to open it without knocking.

    Stepping inside, Quinten''s eyes immediately went to the woman seated behind, and writing at the main desk. She didn¡¯t look up, and he took the time to survey the rest of the room¡¯s contents. A secretary¡¯s desk sat off to the side. Two chairs were arranged across from a cushioned couch, with a low table set between them. Along one wall was a map similar to the one hung in his Grandfather¡¯s war room, this one focused on the northern fortresses.

    He moved before it, taking in what he could from the tags and markers place all along the north. Neither he nor the woman spoke. The scratching of her quill and the creak of a board as Quinten shifted his weight, the only sounds filling the room.

    Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him and Quinten asked without turning around. ¡°How accurate are these positions?¡±

    The scratching stopped, and the reply was several long moments in coming.

    ¡°Other than the units housed here being in the field chasing an enemy sighting, the light calvary details are current. Everything else could be considered suspect. They were accurate as of two days ago when the last reports came in.¡±

    Her tone was flat with a slight edge to it.

    Holding back a frown, Quinten kept his face blank as he turned to meet the woman¡¯s gaze. Late twenties in appearance, she was attractive in a no-nonsense way. Her face was striking in the contrast of tanned skin streaked with the faded white of healed scars that reminded Quinten of Instructor Marks from the Academy.

    Annoyed as he may have been with his welcome to Northreach. He made no qualms that this was a career Core mage who had likely been through more than her share of starless nights.

    And I¡¯m here to replace her, Quinten thought.

 B1C55 - Making Friends

    ¡°So, you¡¯re the green-as-can-be Lt.¡±

    Quinten kept his face impassive, letting the irritation it created go. Instead of responding immediately, he remained silent. He held her gaze and created a thin line of Empathy between them.

    This wasn¡¯t the Academy. They had no time for petty squabbles. In his military studies growing up, the only thing that killed more men than the enemy was an Army¡¯s leaders fighting each other.

    With the connection made, Quinten felt her surprise when he didn¡¯t react to her barb.

    ¡°I am. And you are Nell Canton, Battle Mage, and the one responsible for keeping our people safe and the men and women of NRLC alive for the last several weeks.¡±

    Nell¡¯s eyes widened. The surprise she¡¯d felt a moment earlier, coming back like the tide. Quinten enjoyed the moment, short-lived as it may have been. Almost instantly, her brows drew together and her eyes narrowed.

    The barest hint of a smile touched Quinten''s otherwise stoic expression, and he nodded. ¡°Having the Lord Marshal as your grandfather comes with a few benefits. Accurate and up-to-date reports of my future command being one of them.¡± The smile disappeared as his gaze turned to steel, adding. ¡°He and I both agree. You¡¯ve done the job well. What do you need from me to make sure that continues?¡±

    Nell went through a range of emotions, suspicion, confusion, back to surprise, and finally, grudgingly, a hint of respect. Quinten waited patiently.

    Rising from the chair. Battle Mage Nell Canton saluted with a slight bow of her head. ¡°I¡ªMy apologies, Lieutenant. That was unprofessional. I let my personal feelings get the better of me. When I heard¡­¡± she said, trailing off.

    ¡°When you heard that the Lord Marshal¡¯s grandson. A boy of eighteen and recently expelled from the Academy was being sent to take over your unit?¡± He asked, his raised brow bringing some heat to the woman¡¯s face. It made the whites of her scars stand out along the right side of her jaw.

    ¡°Let¡¯s be clear, BM Canton¡ªI am all of those things, but I would like to think I¡¯m much more.¡±

    The Battle Mage¡¯s eyes shifted away from him, staring straight ahead as she said. ¡°Understood, sir.¡±

    Feeling the dynamic shift, Quinten released the thread connecting them. He let himself relax with a genuine smile. ¡°All of that being said. Will you work with me to ensure all of your hard work doesn¡¯t come undone?¡±

    While her face remained passive, the corners of Nell¡¯s eyes wrinkled just enough to notice.

    ¡°It would be my pleasure, sir.¡±

    *****

    ¡°We lose either way. If we give chase, a second raiding party makes it through and hits the villages. The times we¡¯ve held our ground, they just went far enough around us.¡± Shaking her head, the BM sighed in frustration. ¡°Even with this setup, we are still too far apart to block off the north.¡±

    Quinten frowned at the map laying across the desk. His mind going over the report from Nell. In it, she detailed all raids over the last month, both those they successfully defended and those that made it past them to pillage the closest settlement.

    Staring, he tried to find a pattern, but could find none. There were a few areas that seemed to be a few points of entry that the Drakovians preferred to use. An initial group would get the Rivennan patrol to follow them, opening up the entry or egress point for the second set of raiders.

    What he couldn¡¯t figure out was how they were coordinating the movement.

    ¡°This might be a stupid question, but why haven¡¯t we just built a wall? I know it would be mage intensive, but it¡¯s been months, and working together, they could have had a large portion of the area between forts blocked off already.¡±

    Pursing her lips, Nell started to speak and then, taking a deep breath, she said. ¡°I expect you¡¯ll find that out at the next officer¡¯s meeting, sir.¡± Moving to the window, she shifted the blind and checked the angle of the sun. ¡°Something you¡¯ll get to experience in a few hours, but¡­ unless I¡¯m wrong. I believe that our mages just returned from their hunt.¡±

    While Quinten had read the Discipline and Decorum guide for the Mage Core. He would be the first to admit he was a work in progress when it came to adhering to the rules. Battle Mage Canton, on the other hand, followed them as easily as breathing.

    Leaving building twelve, she immediately fell in one step behind and to his left as Quinten made for the main area just outside of the stables where over one hundred and eighty men, women currently worked to dismount and tend to their horses.

    Stopping just outside of the swell of activity, his gaze swept the area, eyes searching for a hint of his mages. Unfortunately, their brown blended in well with the army green and after a moment, he gave up on the task, instead looking for the Army Lieutenant that¡¯d led them.

    The man saw him first, handing his reins off and heading their way with large, confident steps. The Lt. was massive, so much that Quinten felt sorry for whatever horse had to carry the man and his equipment.

    ¡°You must be Constantine¡¯s replacement. Stars cursed idiot, she was. I¡¯m Lt. Bartel. You can just call me Barty. Everyone does. There¡¯s no point in rank when you¡¯re knee deep in the stank.¡±

    Quinten barked out a laugh, not quite believing his ears. He fought valiantly to hold back his grin. To remain professional in front of the men and women of the cavalry unit. It was a losing battle, lost entirely when Nell snorted behind him. Letting it spread across his face, Quinten reached out and for once had to crane his neck upwards to meet the man¡¯s gaze.

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    ¡°Lt. Ashford, but my friends call me Q. How was your ride? Is anyone injured?¡±

    Barty exchanged grips and even though Quinten could tell he wasn¡¯t squeezing hard, a bit of Gift strengthening the forearm kept it from bruising.

    ¡°Men are fine.¡± Barty said with a wave. ¡°We traded a few arrows with the horse-fuckers, but we couldn¡¯t get close enough for anything more. They are just too fast, even for us.¡± He said, reaching down to the waterskin tied to his belt, unstoppered the mouth, and frowned at its empty contents.

    Just before he replaced the plug, Quinten condensed a thin stream of water from the air and directed it into the skin. Barty watched as the trickle of water filled the pouch. He took a sip to test it and grunted his appreciation before chugging the whole thing.

    Wiping his mouth, Barty pointed at Quinten with the now empty skin. ¡°Thanks for that. By the stars, does it get dry out there.¡±

    Smiling, Quinten shrugged. ¡°No trouble. BM Canton was bringing me up to speed when you arrived. I need to meet with my mages, but If you are free this evening, I¡¯d be happy to buy you a drink. You can fill me in on what I need to know about this place.¡±

    The bear of a man happily accepted the offer, and they parted. His purse growing lighter in fear of how much Barty could drink.

    Quinten''s introductions with the six mages attached to NRLC went quickly with Battle Mage Canton facilitating. They were hot, sweaty, and tired from several hours of riding, and he didn¡¯t want to keep them any longer than necessary.

    They accepted his release from duty for the remainder of the day with gratitude. His request to meet with each of them the following day, a cost of doing business.

    ¡°BM Canton, You mentioned an officer¡¯s meeting this evening. Is there anything I need to bring?¡±

    *****

    Quinten''s quarters were on the fourth floor of building twelve. It was too early to tell whether the proximity to his office would be a benefit or not. He had a private room with a window overlooking the main square and the stables. It was similar in furnishings to his room at the Academy, minus a desk, which made the room seem larger. It wasn¡¯t until he started unloading his gear that he realized why.

    Mages in the Core were not typically issued armor. The exception being in the mounted cavalry units. All other assignments would have the mages in the rear working their magic. Doing so as far away from the enemy as they could manage. When you are constantly moving and riding amidst hundreds, the only safety you¡¯ll find is in numbers.

    Arranging his trunk to act as a table, Quinten arranged everything in what he hoped would be an easy and efficient manner should he need to don the armor in a hurry. Taking the neatly folded clothes he removed from the trunk, he filled the small dresser placed at the end of his bed.

    Looking down at himself, Quinten frowned at the road dust still coating him. He wasn¡¯t as bad as the men and women just returning from patrol, but he was in no state to meet the Fort Commander and his fellow officers. Thankfully, while he might not have a private bath, at least there was one available for them to use.

    Grabbing his kit, Quinten left his room, closing and locking the door behind him. There were ten rooms on the fourth floor, eight bedrooms, a storage room, and the shared bathroom. Quinten''s was the first you saw leaving the stairs, while the bathroom was at the end of the hall, past the remaining bedrooms. It was a large room with three metal tubs arranged along one wall. One tub being occupied had him freezing two steps into the room.

    ¡°¡­¡±

    The woman¡¯s eyes opened lazily, and she turned her head slowly, almost leisurely. The steam coming off of her tub speaking to a temperature that Quinten could never have found comfortable.

    She gave him a once over before closing her eyes and settling back into her bath. ¡°New cavalry Lt. or are you lost?¡±

    ¡°A bit of both, to be honest.¡± Quinten said, still rooted in place. ¡°Is¡ªshould I?¡±

    ¡°Do as you please. You¡¯ll get no protest from me.¡±

    Quietly, Quinten crossed to the far side of the room. He gave the woman one more quick glance to take in her appearance. Long walnut-colored hair framed a delicate face. She had full lips that somehow managed to compliment her too large nose that hung over them, almost like a shelf. The pale skin of her neck was offset by the sun-kissed tan on her cheeks.

    Turning away, he set his kit down on the low bench conveniently placed beside the tub. There was a stand attached to the bench that he hung his outer-robe from. Turning to the tub, there was no obvious way to fill it and Quinten was too embarrassed to ask, so he used his Gift to condense water from the air. He pulled in moisture from the open window when the room grew dry and the tub quickly filled. The cold water enveloped his finger before it started to warm. The liquid slowly rotating to spread the heat evenly.

    When it reached his preferred temperature, Quinten stood up and removed his shirt, folding it neatly. He did the same with his pants, stacking one atop the other. He turned, preparing to remove his small clothes, when he heard.

    ¡°It¡¯s always interesting. How someone works out a problem on their own rather than asking for help.¡±

    Heat travelled to Quinten''s ears as he twisted to look over his shoulder. The woman was in the same position, eyes shut and languidly sunken into the water. The only difference being the smile on her face.

    Pushing his only remaining clothing to the floor, Quinten spun on the lip of metal and slid into the water, its warmth immediately attacking the aches caused by days on the road.

    Closing his eyes, Quinten relaxed, the water gradually inching up his neck as he went boneless. ¡°I take it there is a way to fill and heat these things for those without Elemental gifts?¡±

    Water sloshed from her bath, quickly followed by rustling. ¡°Of course. It¡¯s just not nearly as much fun to watch as what you just did. That was an impressive amount of control.¡± She said. The sound of rough cloth rubbing against wet skin reaching his ears.

    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯m Quinten Ashford, by the way.¡± Quinten said as he tried not to let the images the sounds created get too distracting.

    ¡°Well met, Quinten Ashford. Lt. Harper Tansin, Core engineer.¡±

    Quinten''s eyes popped open as he sat up. ¡°An engineer! How is it? I always sort of hoped I¡¯d get assigned as an engineer during my service to the Core.¡±

    Harper opened her own eyes, though they remained narrowed. Surprise and a hint of suspicion coloring her expression.

    ¡°No one wants to be an engineer, we get the shittiest tasks on the worse timelines and¡ª¡±

    Quinten cut her off before the fire he could see starting, turned into a full blaze. Raising both hands, he said. ¡°I¡¯m sure that¡¯s all true. I¡¯m just saying. Building¡ªcreating something that will last¡ªisn¡¯t a bad way to spend a day.¡±

    Her expression softened. ¡°True, if naive. It¡¯s never that rosy a picture.¡±

    Thoughts of Darrowford and how his time there soured the experience of repairing its bridge and all the other work that Ronan, Cedric, and he had completed added a bitter ring of truth to her words.

    Quinten felt Harper watching him, and as he turned toward her, she nodded. ¡°Not quite so naive then.¡±

    In need of a change of subject, Quinten said, ¡°Do you mind if I ask you a question?¡±

    Taking up her washcloth once more, Harper started scrubbing her arms, saying. ¡°Go for it.¡±

    ¡°Why haven¡¯t we started on a wall between fortifications yet? I know¡ª¡± He cut off at the expression on her face and the dripping washcloth raised in threat.

    ¡°If you had any idea how many times I¡¯ve¡ªNo. You know what? It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± She slowly lowered the balled up cloth. Squinting at him, she smiled and her face took on a vulpine cast.

    ¡°I think you and I are going to get along just fine.¡±

 B1C56 - There is Always a Story

    Summoning a disc of water, Quinten turned the surface reflective. He took in the spare Core robe he swapped out for his dusty and slightly worn robe he wore for the journey. A light application of heated steam had the garment falling as it should. The wrinkles from being folded and stored, long gone. Squatting down, Quinten heated a piece of wax in his palms before giving his freshly rinsed boots a light coating. It was a task he would start having Declan perform, but for now, it helped settle his nerves. Satisfied that he was appropriately put together. Quinten released the conjured mirror back into its liquid state, returning it to the pitcher on his desk.

    Closing the door behind him, the sound of approaching footsteps brought a smile to his lips upon recognizing Harper as she turned the corner. She wasn¡¯t alone, another female in matching brown robes, walking beside her. Quinten waited for the pair to reach him, hoping for an introduction.

    Smiling in turn, she came through, saying. ¡°Hey, Q. This is Mallory Connors. Mal, meet Quinten Ashford.¡±

    Quinten dipped his head in greeting, taking in her long, trim legs that flowed into a full figure that caught his attention even under her outer-robe.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Mallory.¡± He said with a smile.

    ¡°Thank you for not calling me Mallory.¡± She said with a wink. ¡°This one refused to stop once she found out how much I hate it.¡± Nodding in Harper¡¯s direction. Harper feigning innocence all the while.

    I¡¯m going to have to be careful around this one.

    Grinning, Quinten asked, ¡°Are you both heading to the officer¡¯s meeting?¡± To which the ladies nodded. ¡°Do you mind if we swing by the Healing Ward? I need to check on someone.¡±

    *****

    ¡°How¡¯d your friend get hurt? I didn¡¯t hear anything about the Drakovians attacking you all.¡± Harper asked as she led him through the garrison toward the Healing Ward. As an engineer, she spent much of her time coordinating the repair of sections of Northreach, and it gave her a thorough understanding of the fort¡¯s layout and history.

    ¡°We weren¡¯t. He¡¯s not hurt. He¡¯s the new lieutenant for the Northreach Healer Unit.¡±

    Mallory stopped, the whites of her eyes standing out in contrast to her coal-black curls. ¡°Wells is gone?¡°

    Slowing, Quinten blinked, saying. ¡°I¡¯m not sure who that is. Ronan was assigned as Lt. to NRHU back in the capital, and they weren¡¯t changed when we got to Avoncross.¡±

    ¡°By the stars, please tell me that man is gone.¡± She said.

    Harper laughed. ¡°It wasn¡¯t that bad, Mal.¡±

    Mallory frowned, but started walking again, quickly catching up to them. ¡°How would you feel getting proposed to every time you showed up bleeding and in pain? I need to be healed, not wed. It¡¯s not my fault he¡¯s only a few months from turning twenty-five.¡±

    The image made Quinten laugh, and he grinned at the thought of Ronan proposing. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re going to have to worry about that with Ronan. What will happen if he hits twenty-five without three wives? I¡¯ve always wondered, but haven¡¯t seen it happen yet.¡±

    ¡°They will be assigned one.¡± Harper said from ahead, guiding them across an open square, cutting between two buildings. Quinten paid close attention, but the streets were all starting to look the same and he couldn¡¯t recall if it had been two left turns or if they¡¯d waited until the second turn a few streets back. ¡°It doesn¡¯t happen often. Usually, deals are made with the mage well in advance to secure a marriage on the woman¡¯s behalf.¡±

    Mallory continued the explanation when Harper finished. ¡°Either way, it won¡¯t be one of us. There is a list of volunteers maintained in the Capital for female mages who want to be considered. I heard it is all random. He won¡¯t get to pick his blushing bride. They didn¡¯t want it to become some kind of marriage service.¡± With a wicked smile, her lashes kissed her cheeks in a practiced display. ¡°Which leaves the two of us alone and vulnerable.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad I have several years before that becomes a concern.¡± Quinten said, wisely choosing to side-step that conversation.

    They exited the narrow alley between buildings and Harper spun in place, dramatically splaying her arm, she said. ¡°Ta-da! The Healer¡¯s Ward. That¡¯ll be a silver for services rendered. Do come again!¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Quinten said dryly, ¡°I¡¯ll send my valet with payment later.¡±

    The trio climbed the stairs of the towering building with Healer¡¯s Ward engraved in large block letters into the stone above the entrance. There were no windows on the lowest floor, which Quinten found odd. He¡¯d have to remember to ask Ronan about it later.

    Stopping before the front desk, Quinten waited until he had the receptionist¡¯s attention to ask. ¡°Excuse me. Where can I find Lt. Hastings?¡±

    The woman leaned on the counter slightly. Her brow scrunched in confusion.

    ¡°The new healer?¡± Quinten prompted.

    ¡°Oh! I¡¯m sorry, my lord.¡± She said, her face lighting up. ¡°I wasn¡¯t able to catch his name earlier. I thought you were asking after a patient. You can find him one floor up.¡±

    Smiling, Quinten thanked the woman and led the ladies toward the stairs. The sound of shouting started halfway up. They reached the next landing, and a crowd standing before one of the rooms blocked the scene from view but did nothing for the two voices arguing.

    ¡°You are going to kill him. His body can¡¯t take any more healing!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s borderline, but he¡¯ll be fine. We can¡¯t just have him lying here in pain while we wait for him to recover from a gut wound.¡±

    Quinten frowned. ¡°That was Ronan¡¯s voice.¡± He said, leaning into the group of onlookers, pushing his way through. ¡°Excuse me. Pardon.¡± Forced to stop just outside of the door by two large men with their backs to him, Quinten tried once more. ¡°Excuse me!¡± When neither moved, he created a wedge of telekinetic force that he shoved between the two of them and expanded, forcing them to stumble into those around them. He slipped into the gap he¡¯d created and into the room.

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    Two red-faced young men, one on each side of the patient¡¯s bed, stood nearly atop the poor soldier between them. His head rotating back and forth, fear and pain clearly written across his face. Ronan and the unknown man¡¯s conversation was so intense, neither noticed as Quinten entered the room.

    Quinten guessed the man was a mage, judging by the brown of his clothes and the lieutenant¡¯s rank sewn onto his chest. It made sense in an environment where one might wade through gore, bodily fluids, and other unpleasantness¡ªhardly a place for a long, draping outer robe. He stood of a height with Ronan, their glares on level. The man was tan and well muscled, where Quinten''s friend was thin and pale when his face wasn¡¯t flushed with irritation.

    ¡°Everything alright in here?¡± Quinten asked. Both men¡¯s gazes remaining locked in a contest of wills that he didn¡¯t think any of them had time for. ¡°Ronan.¡± He called out. The use of his name penetrated, and Ronan blinked twice before scowling at the other man once more.

    ¡°It¡¯d be fine if he would get out of my way and let me finish with my patient.¡±

    The man scoffed, rolling his eyes. ¡°Killing your patient is more like it. Do you think it is procedure make someone take the long way when healing an arrow through the gut? No!¡± He yelled and winced at the sound. Lowering his voice, he continued. ¡°This man is too close to the edge. If you heal him anymore, his body will go into shock and he¡¯ll die. Because of you, not his wounds.¡±

    The color drained from Ronan¡¯s face, returning with a vengeance. It turned everything up to his ears a mottled red. Anger spilling from him so strongly that Quinten felt it through his mental barrier.

    He took a deep breath. Holding the other man¡¯s stare, he slowly placed two fingers on the patient¡¯s forehead before closing his eyes. A moment later, the soldier¡¯s eyes fluttered shut, and he slumped into unconsciousness.

    ¡°Just because we can¡¯t heal him doesn¡¯t mean he needs to lie there in pain.¡± Ronan gritted out from between clenched teeth.

    The mage, who Quinten was assuming to be the infamous Wells that Mallory mentioned earlier, kept his eyes locked on the soldier, waiting for a sign that they¡¯d pushed the patient¡¯s body too far. When after nearly two minutes and no visible changes, it became clear he would be fine. The man turned on his heel and barreled out of the room without a word.

    Harper whistled from just outside of the room. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen Wells that worked up before. You¡¯d better hope you never need him to heal you.¡±

    Ronan, still glaring at the now empty space, shook his head but said nothing.

    Quinten approached carefully, giving his friend a light pat on the shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here. You look like you need some air and they are expecting us both at the officer¡¯s meeting in case you forgot.¡±

    Ronan¡¯s brow scrunched as he scowled. ¡°I wonder if that lout will be there.¡±

    *****

    Walking into a room full of senior officers with a group, even if it was just the four of them, left Quinten feeling surprisingly at ease.

    The war room was larger than the private chamber the Lord Marshal had used to host them in Avoncross. Northreach lacked the size to warrant a separate planning space for the Fort Commander, so Quinten assumed this served as the primary strategy room for the entire garrison. He was also thankful for the added space. It was standing room only with over two dozen Army and Core officers in attendance. Servants wading through the drown offering refreshments added their own kind of chaos.

    Quinten stepped to the side and leaned toward Harper. Speaking softly, he asked. ¡°How often are these held, where everyone is expected to come?¡±

    ¡°Every week.¡± She said with a pained smile, mumbling just loud enough for him to hear.

    Quinten couldn¡¯t help but frown. Weekly meetings for a dog and pony show like this seemed like an utter waste of time and resources. Having just walked through the garrison, he had noted at least three items that would improve the fortress that he would rather be doing instead of standing there.

    Lt. Wells entered smoothly from a side door, and Ronan straightened. His attention drawn to the man like lightning to a rod. Mallory saw the change in his demeanor, too. Nodding to Harper, she stepped up beside Quinten and slid her arm through his, with Harper doing the same to Ronan.

    ¡°We still have some time before the commander arrives.¡± She said, pressing his arm tight to her ample chest. ¡°We should introduce you two to the rest of the Core.¡±

    True to her word, Mallory and Harper introduced Quinten and Ronan to the remaining Core lieutenants assigned to Northreach. Thankfully, they were standing together, or it might have taken more time than they had available. Even so, their group of four was waylaid three times just crossing the room.

    Twice, young officers stopped them to speak with Mallory. The kicked puppy looks that each walked off with left Quinten with an impression. She kept any irritation off of her face, but the easy connection of Empathy he created through her grip on his arm told him all he needed to know. She was annoyed¡ªa little angry, even, and worried. He could feel the attraction she felt toward him, and the way the anger and worry intertwined¡­ He could only assume she was concerned about his opinion of her.

    The third interruption was actually due to him.

    ¡°Q!¡±

    His name, coming at near battlefield-volume, had him freezing in place.

    Quinten thought he heard Mallory say something, but her words were lost when the ham-hock seized him by the arm and pulled him into a nearby group of army lieutenants.

    ¡°Lads,¡± Barty said, ¡°This is Q. Constantine¡¯s replacement.¡±

    Quinten shook each of the three men¡¯s hands and forgot two of their names instantly. The one he could remember was only due to how close it was to his own. He never got the chance to embarrass himself. The focus shifting from himself entirely to the woman dragged with him into the group, still clinging to his arm.

    ¡°Well, now¡­¡± Barty said with a pair of raised brows. ¡°Digging your claws in early with this one, are you, Mal?¡± The tone wasn¡¯t exactly biting¡ªbut there was an underlying sharpness to it that made Quinten curious. He still had his connection with Mallory in place and felt the spike of pain the big man¡¯s words caused. Which only added to Quinten''s curiosity.

    ¡°No claws.¡± Quinten said with a direct look at Barty, that he seemed to understand. With a smile to the other three, he added. ¡°If you gentlemen will excuse me. Barty, I still owe you a drink.¡±

    Not waiting for a reply, he led Mallory past the group to where Harper and Ronan stood with two women in Core brown robes.

    An amalgamation of emotions roiled within Mallory. Quinten severed the connection, having learned far more than he¡¯d intended about the woman.

    ¡°Thank you for not¡­¡± She said, trailing off without finishing. Her tone shifted, missing the playfulness it¡¯d carried since they¡¯d met a few hours earlier.

    Unsure of what to say, he remained silent, patting the hand resting on his forearm as they reached the others.

    Locking eyes with one mage, her lips curved into a smirk. ¡°Leave it to you two to not only meet, but you escort the new meat in on a silver platter.¡±

    Quinten raised a brow at her choice of words. The other mage¡¯s blush made for an interesting contrast.

    ¡°And you think of yourself as the wolf, licking your chops and ready for a meal?¡± He asked, looking her up and down. She was thick for a woman and she had her outer-robe open and splayed behind her shoulders in a way that left her arms bare. Muscles stood out along her trim arms, as did a number of scars.

    Her smirk turned into a leer and she pointedly licked her lips.

    ¡°Good luck with that.¡± Quinten said, ignoring the woman¡¯s scoff and dismissing her from his thoughts. His focus turned to the wide-eyed mage staring at him. Dipping his head politely, he held out a hand for hers and introduced himself. ¡°Good evening, I¡¯m Quinten Ashford, light calvary.¡±

    She placed her hand in his and blushed deeper as he kissed it gently.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Quinten. I¡¯m Talia Kenaston with the Archers.¡±

    Smiling, Quinten released her hand and moved to Ronan¡¯s side, needing a break from the attention.

    He was in luck. Not a minute later, the main door opened and in walked the Fort Commander, followed by who Quinten assumed to be his second, and a procession of Captains. One of which would be his own.

 B1C57 - The Thing About a Wall

    Inspecting each as they passed, Quinten didn¡¯t need to ask which Captain belonged to the Core, there being only one woman among their number. The Army¡¯s upper ranks were filled predominately with men, a contrast to the Core being heavily slanted toward the opposite sex. Captain Elodie Leduc, according to his reporting orders, met his gaze briefly, shocking him when an empathic link formed instantly.

    Satisfaction at having spotted him¡ªphysical appreciation¡ªcuriosity and interest. The feelings flashed through him so quickly, he wasn¡¯t sure who could claim which. Gasping, Quinten bent over, severing the connection. He looked up quickly, and just caught her sandy golden curls disappearing amongst the crowd.

    A familiar touch, and a sense of warmth flowing from it, helped him recover quickly. ¡°What was that?¡± Ronan asked, concern lightly coloring his voice.

    ¡°A surprise feeling.¡± Quinten said, ignoring the curious gaze he could feel centered on him.

    The procession reached the end of the room, where the main section of seating was arranged. Fort Commander Jensen Aldric shifted to face the awaiting junior officers. The man was wearing his full dress uniform with several medals of commendation. If his age were to be believed, he was late in his career. His large mustache having lost the majority of its color.

    ¡°Ladies and Gentlemen of the Army and Core, once again, we gather as the steadfast guardians of our great kingdom. While others sleep soundly in their beds, we stand watch, protecting the very foundation upon which future generations will continue to build on our legacy.¡±

    The more the man said, the words light of substance, and spoken in honeyed tones to a room full of subordinates, the more Quinten''s stomach sank.

    ¡°When our names are written in the annals of history, let it be for our discipline, our poise, and our unwavering commitment to tradition¡ªnot for scrambling about like common foot soldiers, desperate to scrape out a win.¡±

    He paused, glancing around the room with a self-satisfied smirk.

    ¡°Now then, onto the reports.¡±

    What followed, Quinten could only label a travesty of the Fort Commander¡¯s own making. Each report was brief and seemed only to contain information that Commander Aldric wanted to hear. None of whom mentioned their inability to contain, nor anticipate, what the Drakovian¡¯s would do next.

    Taking a glass from a passing server, Quinten downed its contents. Surprised at the taste, he sniffed the remnants. The wine being served was not bottom of the barrel quality.

    ¡°Good shit, isn¡¯t it?¡± Commented the as-of-yet introduced mage.

    He glanced at her, unsure if this was her way of trying to start over. Choosing politeness over being rude, he nodded at her in acknowledgement.

    Unable to resist the question, Quinten asked Harper. ¡°Why isn¡¯t anyone mentioning the fact we are getting strung around by our noses out there with no way to control the enemy¡¯s movement?¡±

    Her eyes widened when he began, and she shook her head subtly. Quinten frowned slightly, but continued his question. By the end, he could see the whites surrounding her brown irises.

    ¡°Is there something more important than the current state of the North?¡± The Fort Commander asked with a noticeable edge to his voice.

    Unfortunately, Quinten hadn¡¯t realized that the Infantry Captain giving his report had stopped speaking. Commander Aldric¡¯s hand still raised, asking for him to stop.

    The officers standing between their group and the commander drifted away like shadows retreating from the morning sun.

    ¡°Ahh yes¡­¡± The Fort Commander said, meeting Quinten''s gaze. ¡°I heard we had two new lieutenants from the Core joining us this evening. Which are you?¡± He asked with a raised brow. The man gave Quinten a once over and shook his head. ¡°You don¡¯t look like a Healer. You must be the Lord Marshal''s get, then?¡±

    Quinten frowned. Something about the distance between the Fort Commander and himself felt disadvantageous. Stepping away from Ronan and the support his presence provided, Quinten approached Commander Aldric where he stood beside the large map being used by those reporting to show changes. His eyes met Captain Leduc¡¯s once more and again, Empathy twinged. Before it could develop into an actual connection, he turned to face the commander.

    Standing before the man, ringed by senior officers, Quinten saluted. ¡°Yes, commander. I am Quinten Ashford.¡±

    "Hmm," said the Fort Commander¡¯s second-in-command. ¡°Welcome,¡± he finally said in a tone that conveyed the opposite. His lips pulling back to reveal overly large front teeth that met the lower row, but left enough space on either side for Quinten to catch glimpses of his shifting tongue.

    Aldric held out his hand with a flourish, and a servant ran over, maneuvering a glass into his palm. Taking a drink, the Fort Commander asked. ¡°So¡­ What would your fabled grandfather say about our progress?¡±

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    Quinten sighed internally. There is no way that this is going to play out in my favor.

    Considering his words carefully, he began gently. ¡°You have done a remarkable job lowering response times and getting relief to those in need as quickly as possible.¡± Aldric smiled, nodding slightly, and taking another sip of his drink. It was the narrowed eyes of his second, and those of the Captains that had his throat going dry. He restrained himself from wiping his damp hands on his pants. The nearly three dozen gazes of those filling the room, baring down like a physical weight.

    ¡°But¡­¡± he said, stopping when his voice grew scratchy. His eyes locked on a waiter carrying a tray of glasses filled with water. Drawing on his Gift, Quinten floated one over. He grasped it easily and took a drink, oblivious to the irritation that grew on Aldric¡¯s face at being made to wait.

    ¡°Excuse me.¡± Quinten said, clearing his throat and taking another sip of water. ¡°But¡ªeverything I have heard is reactionary. What are we doing to force the Drakovian¡¯s hand?¡±

    His question met with silence from the senior officers but hushed murmurs from those standing behind him.

    Aldric downed the remainder of his drink, gently placing it on the corner of a nearby table before signaling for another. While a servant rushed to comply, the Fort Commander asked. ¡°We are in a defensive stance, in the words of your grandfather. It sounds like you think we should be doing more¡­¡± He trailed off, accepting a full glass. He raised it high and peered at Quinten through its contents. ¡°What would you suggest, o¡¯ Lord Marshal the younger?¡±

    Quinten bristled at the man¡¯s tone, but kept the response from his face. The commander¡¯s words deliberately chosen to provoke a reaction. Captain Leduc¡¯s hand jerked, moving two fingers together to catch his attention. She shook her head, likely telling him to stop talking, but he ignored her.

    ¡°I may.¡± He said slowly, adding a trace amount of his Gift into his voice so that it would carry to the entire room. ¡°What have we done to limit their ability to cross into our lands? We chase them from village to village, hoping to catch them when they are slow and fat from plunder and slaves, rather than stop them at the border. Why have we not built a wall between fortifications? Just one would free up our forces to better cover the remaining gaps¡­¡± He trailed off, the dead silence of the room creating a tension that Quinten found difficult to speak through.

    The silence continued until the ringing tone of metal on glass filled the room. In what Quinten thought might be a nervous tick, Commander Aldric¡¯s hand twitched in a way that caused the ring on his pinky finger to tap against the stem of his glass.

    Ting¡ªting-ting.

    The sound repeated several times before he appeared to get it under control.

    ¡°Do you know what a wall signifies, Lt. Ashford?¡± Quinten went to answer, but Aldric¡¯s raised hand stopped him. ¡°No. I will tell you. It signifies weakness. And in this case, it would establish new borders. With everything beyond the wall, controlled by the Drakovians.¡±

    Quinten struggled to keep the frown off of his face. That is incredibly shortsighted, he thought.

    Aldric pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his brow. He pinched the fabric between thumb and forefinger, using it to point at Quinten. ¡°And that is without considering the resources required to make it happen. We¡¯d need to pull every mage from the other forts to do it safely.¡±

    Quinten tuned the man out at that point, and when it became clear that the Fort Commander was done proving the Lord Marshal''s grandson a fool. He slipped back into the crowd, rejoining the ladies and Ronan.

    ¡°That went well.¡± Ronan murmured, knowing Quinten would hear him. He just sighed, nodding in agreement with his friend.

    Finding Harper¡¯s eyes watching in concern, he asked in a low tone. ¡°Do you know if Captain Leduc officially reports to him, or is she technically under the Mage Commander?¡±

    ¡°Commander Taskin, but she¡¯s expected to work closely with the Fort Commander.¡± Her eyes narrowed. The vulpine look from earlier making a reappearance. ¡°Why¡­?¡±

    ¡°Just wondering how much trouble we¡¯ll get in for building the wall, anyway.¡±

    *****

    The next morning found Quinten up early, unable to sleep. He¡¯d lain in bed for nearly half an hour before giving up and getting dressed for the day, even though the sun hadn¡¯t fully risen. He did so quietly, not wanting to punish Declan for his insomnia.

    The boy waiting for him in his room when he returned from the officer¡¯s meeting had been a surprise. Quinten had told the would be valet that he could stay with Layla and report to him in the morning after breakfast. It seemed the boy had a stubborn streak, though Quinten wasn¡¯t sure how long it would last. He¡¯d seen the look that Declan had given the room, likely surprised an Earl would be in such tight quarters. He couldn¡¯t imagine the small cot the boy scrounged up would be more comfortable than staying with his sister.

    No special treatment for a lieutenant. He¡¯d thought with a grin.

    Stopping to clean his teeth before leaving the room, Quinten pulled on a current of air, catching the scent of coffee. It wasn¡¯t his drink of choice, but it was one that his Grandfather Henry had grown to love after too many late nights and early mornings. He followed his nose down to the third floor, where he found the source of the smell in a room he hadn¡¯t noticed the day before. It was arranged with several chairs, couches, and a small kitchen. Seeing that there was plenty left in the clay jug sitting on the stove, Quinten poured himself a cup.

    He blew away the steam and took a sip, the bitter liquid burning the tip of his tongue. Satisfied, Quinten returned to the main room and the open door to his office that he¡¯d passed coming in. The light shining onto the wooden planks through the doorway. It wasn¡¯t hard for him to guess who he would find inside.

    Battle Mage Canton must have heard him moving around, because she looked up without surprise when he entered. She set her quill down and made to rise, but Quinten waved her off. He instead came to her and leaned against the desk.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get out of your office, sir. It¡¯s just that everything was already here¡­ and I¡¯ll be heading back to my post soon¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Having you close will make getting up to speed easier, anyway.¡± Peaking at the document in front of her, he asked, ¡°What is on the docket for today?¡±

    Canton leaned back in Quinten''s chair with a slight upturn of her lips. ¡°I¡ªam riding out on patrol with about half of the unit. You.¡± She emphasized, ¡°Will be meeting with Captain Leduc.¡± She pulled open a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper, handing it to him.

    He read the brief message and pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Do you know if this came before or after the officer¡¯s meeting?¡±

    ¡°Before, sir.¡± She said, humor flavoring the woman¡¯s voice. ¡°If it were after, I imagine there would be more swearing.¡±

 B1C58 - Setting up the Board

    The sun continued to inch toward its zenith. Quinten exhaled deeply through his nose, leaning back in the chair and letting his head rest against the wall behind him.

    His eyes were closed, and he¡¯d used the last twenty minutes to get some meditation in while he waited for the captain¡¯s secretary to say she was ready for him.

    Breathe in¡­ and out.

    He¡¯d grown lax in the art and now was as good a time as any to practice. It was that, or accept his annoyance at being made to wait so the woman could make a point.

    In for six¡ªout for four.

    ¡°She¡¯ll see you now.¡± Came the self-satisfied voice from behind the desk across from him.

    Quinten opened his eyes slowly and rose to his feet. He stepped around the desk and stopped. Bending down beside the young man, Quinten murmured. ¡°She¡¯s never going to go for you.¡± Standing to his full height, he pushed open the captain¡¯s door.

    Quinten didn¡¯t care if he came across as a dick. Twenty minutes of the man¡¯s lust and jealousy beating against his mental barrier left him tempted to throw the secretary through the open window.

    To Quinten''s surprise, Captain Leduc was not sitting behind her desk, either busy, or appearing to be busy. Instead, she stood off to the side, leaning against the large wooden surface with her attention locked on him.

    Their gazes met, and another connection formed instantly. In the months since his Empathic gift manifested, never had he met someone so easy to establish a link without physical contact.

    They were too far apart the night before, and there was too much going on for him to notice her eye color, but in the late morning light filtering into the room, their sparkling blue depths shined.

    Her expression and the irritation he felt from the woman was much less pleasant. ¡°A wall? You had to bring up a stars-cursed wall?¡±

    Quinten''s jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°I¡¯d apologize, but I wasn¡¯t aware the suggestion was off limits, nor do I believe I¡¯m wrong.¡±

    The blue narrowed, intensifying in its focus as Captain Leduc glared at him. The action, a contrast to the satisfaction she felt at his answer. ¡°Well, at least you aren¡¯t a spineless coward. The jury is still out on you being an idiot.¡±

    Quinten blinked. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    The captain turned her back on him. It gave him a great view as she fell gracelessly into her chair. She leaned back, setting the heels of her boots on the corner of her desk.

    ¡°In my experience, fresh lieutenants come to me either scared or stupid. I do what I can to beat that out of them. If they survive, they are of real value to the Core.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never been called an idiot¡ªnot by anyone I respected.¡± Quinten admitted, taking a seat at her wave.

    Her laugh¡ªa rolling, hearty thing, caught him off guard. ¡°A funny one, it would seem.¡± Her eyes flicked to the papers strewn across the rest of her desk and she sighed, going through a visible change as she shifted topics.

    ¡°Battle Mage Canton is good stock. I¡¯ve put in for her promotion to lieutenant if another slot opens up. You¡¯ll have her here for two more days before she heads back to her own duty station. Be sure to get a complete hand-off before that happens.¡±

    ¡°Yes, captain.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± She said, pushing a few loose papers together and stacking them neatly. ¡°Once you have your feet under you. You can get started.¡±

    Knowing she was playing him, Quinten shifted in his seat before biting. ¡°Get started with what, captain?¡±

    ¡°Building your wall, of course.¡±

    *****

    ¡°You have the captain¡¯s permission?¡± Demanded Harper later that evening, practically jumping up and down at the thought.

    Quinten spent the remainder of his day buried in reports until Nell returned from the days uneventful patrol. He¡¯d hit her with one question after another until even he was getting annoyed with himself. At that point, Quinten sent Declan off to find Harper, inviting her and the rest of the Core Lt. to dinner that evening. He¡¯d considered inviting Barty, but with the way the big man and Mallory had interacted¡­ It was probably best to keep the pair separate.

    ¡°Not¡ªexactly¡­?¡± He said with a wince.

    Harper frowned, her eyebrows drawing down in a way that made her large nose stand out. ¡°Why did that sound like a question?¡± She asked Mallory sitting beside her.

    Quinten raised both hands in a calming gesture and said, ¡°Not officially is more accurate. She agrees that it needs done, but she said it wouldn¡¯t look well on anyone if the Mage Core and Army senior leadership are at odds.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think the Rivennans that die when a wall could have saved them will care.¡± Ronan said, killing the excitement Quinten''s news created.

    Quinten put his arm around his friend and gave him a quick squeeze. A flare of frustration hit him from across the room and his head whipped up in the direction he felt it coming from. There, leaning against one of the tavern¡¯s support beams, was Lt. Wells. The man was staring daggers at Ronan and Quinten until he realized he¡¯d been spotted. Quinten watched him pull a few coins from his pocket and toss them on a nearby table, walking out the door a moment later.

    He seemed to be the only one to have noticed and chose to keep it to himself, filing the information away for later. His arm fell away from Ronan¡¯s shoulders and he used it to replace the cup of wine before his friend with one of water. It would do his friend no good to drink with his mind in such a dark place.

    ¡°You¡¯ve the right of it.¡± Quinten agreed. ¡°Which is why we are going to do it without Commander Aldric¡¯s blessing. I¡¯d rather ask for forgiveness from the living than permission of the dead.¡±

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    *****

    Two days passed before their schedules aligned and Barty could cash in on the drink Quinten owed him.

    They were in the same tavern he met the others in a couple of days before. They were several drinks in and Quinten was much better informed on local politics and the way of things around Northreach.

    He leaned back, happy their table was placed against a wall. It gave him something to rest against. He could have used his gift to burn off the alcohol, but chose not to. The last two days spent going over one report after another started wearing him thin. On a positive note, with BM Canton leaving the next morning, that was about to change.

    When Quinten judged the timing and their mutual drunkenness to be about right. He sat forward, placing both elbows on the table.

    ¡°I need your help.¡±

    Barty blinked at him slowly, a smile spreading across his face. ¡°Of course you do!¡± He said, his face scrunching a moment later. ¡°With what?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need you and the other Cavalry Lt. to fill in for me over the next couple of weeks. I¡¯ll be riding out with you all, but I won¡¯t be able to lead our units like they deserve.¡±

    Nodding, Barty took a drink of his ale. ¡°Glad you¡¯re thinking of the men. If you aren¡¯t leading, what are you doing?¡±

    And Quinten told him. Detailing out the plan that Harper, Mallory, and Talia helped put together. It was Lianna, surprisingly enough, that pointed out the flaw in their plan.

    Eventually, the Drakovians would notice the wall¡¯s construction. If the mages exhausted their Gifts, it left them vulnerable for an attack without magical support. Quinten came up with a solution, but it would mean longer days for everyone.

    ¡°You want us to change our routes?¡± Barty asked as they worked through what he wanted to do.

    ¡°Ehh.¡± Quinten said. ¡°They already change to keep the enemy guessing. We will need to adjust them, but only so we can swap mages. We won¡¯t want a mage with an empty Gift well riding around. So, we¡¯ll time it so those with elemental gifts raise more of the wall before they swap out with someone fresh for the next patrol. Then, those who can transmute it to stone will do so. I will be out there daily filling in where I¡¯m needed and the rest of the Lt. are going to send their mages, who can help when they can spare them.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t have each patrol end wherever your wall is currently being worked.¡± He started moving cups and plates on the table, arranging them to show what he meant. ¡°There is no way we could cover our entire range and make that happen.¡±

    Quinten nodded, his enthusiasm growing. ¡°They won¡¯t have to. And this is where the planning is going to be key. We¡¯ll be building the wall in sections. We have three locations picked out to start. Then we can slowly bring them together as we fill in the space between points.¡±

    Barty frowned, and Quinten motioned for him to move his hands. He arranged four cups across the table and placed a utensil between each cup until eventually the link was complete. The big man looked up with raised brows. ¡°You think we can do it?¡± He asked.

    Sighing, Quinten picked up his drink from the middle of the example and downed its contents.

    ¡°If we want to end this war anytime soon. I¡¯m not sure we can afford not to.¡±

    *****

    Each step left the scent of crushed grass in Quinten''s wake as he walked with outstretched arms. Before taking on this project, he¡¯d never had reason to exhaust himself day after day, mile after mile, as he and the other Core mages of Northreach worked together. His focus sat nestled deep within his gift, channeling the energy with as much control and efficiency as he could. The earth rising behind him like a snake charmer playing their song.

    Today was a Raising Day for Quinten. With the mages coming in on the next patrol to transmute it all to stone.

    He continued for another ten minutes, adding another fifty feet of turned earth, standing ten feet tall and five feet wide. Once transmuted, it would blend in seamlessly with the mile and a half of wall already completed.

    Releasing his Gift, he sat heavily on the ground, leaning against the halfway completed wall with his eyes closed. They¡¯d been at it for three weeks now, and this stretch was already half-finished. The other two sections were weren¡¯t as far along, but Quinten was happy with the progress. If things continued as they were, the wall would be finished in less than a fortnight.

    Horse hooves clopped nearby and something landed between Quinten''s legs with a whomp. He was too tired to react and felt around with his fingers until they wrapped around a corked skin. Popping the top, he drank heavily from its contents, the water cooling his parched throat.

    ¡°You scare them, you know.¡±

    Quinten cracked open an eye, happy to be on the shaded side of the wall. He looked up, and up, at the towering figure of Barty mounted on some poor horse.

    ¡°Who, the horses?¡±

    Barty barked a laugh, saying. ¡°Aye, them too. But I meant the men. They see how much more wall goes up when you¡¯re Raising, and don¡¯t think they don¡¯t notice the extra feet you add on when you think no one is watching.¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t the only ones to notice,¡± Quinten said, leaning around the side of the wall. His eyes scanned into the distance. There, a half-mile out, two mounted Drakovian scouts watched on.

    ¡°How long until they try and stop us?¡± Barty asked, following his gaze. The leather of his saddle pommel creaking in protest as he leaned on it with his considerable weight.

    ¡°I¡¯ve no idea.¡± Quinten said, before taking another drink. He felt the cool water go all the way down and sighed in satisfaction. He wiped the mouth of the skin and plugged it, floating it back to its owner. ¡°You¡¯re the experienced cavalry officer, you tell me.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ we¡¯re already changing the patrols to take advantage of the sections of wall already in place. Which we know is really starting to piss off the Drakovians. Three raid interceptions this week.¡± The man sat upright in his saddle, chest puffed with pride. Raising a brow, he added. ¡°You do realize the Fort Commander isn¡¯t going to believe that this is all just a string of good luck, right? Eventually, he¡¯s going to start suspecting you¡¯ve done something.¡±

    Quinten pushed himself to his feet and brushed the dirt from his hands.

    ¡°That, my friend, is a problem for future me. He can worry about it when it happens.¡±

    *****

    How does a cavalry unit go through so many horseshoes? They are riding on grass for the love of stars!

    Quinten pushed the requisition form away from him in disgust. The stack of similar requests looming over him like a rainy day.

    Pounding feet on wood echoed outside of his office. They were light steps, not the heavy tread of boots required by those working around large animals.

    Rising to his feet, Declan burst through his open doorway, sliding on the polish wooden floor and slamming into the back of a couch in his haste.

    ¡°Barty sent for you, my lord. He thinks Lt. Carter¡¯s patrol is in trouble. They can see smoke from the walls.¡±

    Quinten rushed to the exterior wall of his office, pausing only to snag Astraea from her mounting peg beside his desk. He planted a booted heel on his windowsill and leapt to the stone-lined streets below, augmenting his bones and joints to absorb the impact. He landed in a roll and took off toward Layla, strapping on the sword as he ran. Layla pulled firmly on the saddle¡¯s girth before checking the other straps and buckles for tightness.

    With contact with the enemy coming more and more regularly, the men and mages of NRLC wore their armor while on duty, regardless of is they were scheduled for patrol that day.

    This may have only been the second incident that week, but Quinten could feel it. There was something different this time.

    Layla stepped in front of Star to clear the way for Quinten as he scrambled into the saddle, trusting that the groomswoman had her ready for battle.

    ¡°Thank you, Layla.¡± He said, taking the reins from her.

    Smiling up at him, she replied, ¡°Good hunting, my lord.¡±

    Quinten guided Star out front. Where he could see the NRLC¡¯s reserves quickly forming up. Barty rode up beside him and asked. ¡°Do you feel it?¡±

    Shifting in his saddle, Quinten nodded. The last of his mages form up beside the block of regular calvary and he nodded once more to Barty.

    The big man led his horse forward, bellowing. ¡°NRLC! Your brothers and sister seemed to have gotten themselves into some shit. It¡¯s up to us to get them out of it!¡±

    The combined roar of the men and women behind them shook the stone walls as they rode through.

 B1C59 - The First Domino Falls

    The trail of smoke reached into the sky, towering over the horizon like a cloud of judgement. Quinten stood in his stirrups, hoping to catch a glimpse over the rise before them, as if the tenth of a second could mean the difference between life and death. While it wouldn¡¯t change what¡¯d already happened, he was the first to see the forward scout coming their way at a full gallop.

    He raised a hand, signaling a stop to those behind him. Soldiers and mages alike leapt from their mounts, giving their horses a controlled amount of water and an opportunity to drink. There was no telling when, or even if, they would get another chance to do so.

    Barty and Quinten rode forward, with Lt. Morton, the third and final member of their officer core, joining them.

    The scout dropped his horse from a gallop to a canter, and finally a trot until stopping before the trio. He slid to the ground, his legs bowed and his shoulders sagging. He removed his helmet, filling it with water and allowing his horse to drink while he summarized his report.

    ¡°Friendly patrol is three miles East of us, and the Drakovians are roughly a mile behind them. They outnumber both the original patrol and ours. I counted three-hundred. Both groups have been riding hard in the twenty minutes since I spotted them. They¡¯ll be here in the next fifteen.¡±

    The man went quiet, waiting for their reactions. He absentmindedly patted his horse¡¯s neck, rubbing it in long strokes that had the beast pressing into his hand as it drank greedily. The water splashing down the scout¡¯s front, ignored.

    No one spoke as each processed the report, considering what to do.

    Combined, NRLC only totaled one-hundred and eighty strong, one ninety when counting the officers and the mages. If they chose to fight. This engagement would be the largest the war had seen since it began.

    ¡°Well, ladies.¡± Barty said, being the first to speak. ¡°What do you think? We¡¯re eight miles from Northreach. They were coming to the end of their patrol, so their horses aren¡¯t exactly fresh. I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll be able to make it back to the fort without help.¡±

    ¡°Their mages may have already burned their gifts on the wall.¡± Lt. Morton added, his eyes locked on Quinten. ¡°The Drakovians may have been waiting for it. It¡¯s not exactly subtle.¡±

    Out of the three Lt. of NRLC, Morton was the only one against the wall¡¯s construction. As frustrating as it might be, Quinten knew the man not only had a point, but he was also likely right.

    ¡°Mages Cornel and Gentry can¡¯t use either Elemental nor Transmutation magic. They will still be in fighting shape. Jomander and Yenson, we should assume are tapped.¡±

    Thinking quickly, Quinten turned to the scout. ¡°Three quarters of a mile from here, there is a depression with a sizable rise beside it. Do you think we can reach it before they do?¡±

    The man answered instantly. ¡°If we go immediately and ride hard, yes. They¡¯ve been pushing hard themselves and will have to slow for a time if they don¡¯t want to blow their horses.¡±

    ¡°You want to ambush an enemy with nearly a third-again our number?¡± Morton asked. His eyes widened and his voice rose in pitch.

    ¡°I do.¡± Quinten said calmly, meeting the man¡¯s gaze. ¡°Now that they¡¯ve started to feel the squeeze, they are going to do everything they can to stop the wall¡¯s expansion. This is their first real attempt, but it won¡¯t be their last. It¡¯s also an opportunity for us.¡±

    Flicking Starbrite¡¯s reins, he started her forward, knowing the others would follow.

    ¡°Why is it an opportunity?¡± Morton called as Quinten rode by.

    ¡°They¡¯ll never be this aggressive again. Not after what we do to them.¡±

    *****

    Horse sweat and manure filled the wavering air as it baked in the late afternoon sun. The weather was starting to cool. The men and women standing beside their horses were grateful for it, but that didn¡¯t mean many of them had a cloth covering their mouths to avoid the flies, smells, and dust.

    ¡°That¡¯s perfect, Warrens,¡± Quinten said in a low tone that wouldn¡¯t carry. ¡°How long can you hold it?¡±

    ¡°Ten minutes, maybe?¡± She said, her voice tight and strained with effort.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Quinten said, patting her on the shoulder lightly so as not to break her concentration.

    She returned his thanks with a smile that came off more constipated than pleased, and Quinten understood. Illusions were a part of Mental magic that he¡¯d struggled to learn at the Academy. It was also one that he knew to be vital on terrain like this, where your sight-lines could span dozens of miles. It turned out that illusions were Nell¡¯s specialty, and she¡¯d spent some of their limited time at Northreach to help him improve his own.

    With their force obscured from both their own men and the Drakovians, it was a waiting game. They couldn¡¯t risk signaling Lt. Carter. There was too much of a chance it would be seen by the enemy nipping at their heels. They had to trust that he would react quickly to their appearance and complete his unknown part in their pincer maneuver.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The scout from earlier, Quinten would need to get his name later to submit the man for a commendation, came charging toward them once more. Mage Durmond doing her part to blow away any dust kicked up by the horse¡¯s long strides.

    The man rode by with a nod to Quinten. It was time.

    Mage Core doctrine forbade mages from riding or charging at the tip of the spear. Deemed too dangerous for someone so valuable to the kingdom, they were expected to cloister in the center of the charge or stand at the rear of the infantry. Where they could lob their attacks over the front lines and wreak devastation from relative safety.

    Fuck that. thought Quinten as Star worked her way to a trot, slowly building speed into a canter. He moved up beside Barty, who raised a brow before winking at him. Quinten couldn¡¯t hear the man, but he was sure Lt. Morton was grumbling about regulations from his position in the second wave.

    From the front, it was also easier for Quinten to dampen the sound of nearly a hundred horses as they reached full speed.

    Their charge hit the junction of land where the rise gave way to the dip, and Quinten received his first look at the enemy. They¡¯d timed it perfectly. The Drakovians were a third of the way into the depression of land with no easy way out that wouldn¡¯t require they climb a large hill, exhausting their horses. Their string of remounts would do them no good without time to swap over.

    Quinten signaled to Mage Nox, and she bellowed, ¡°For Rivenna!¡± Her Physically augmented and partially shifted vocal cords sending out a wave of sound that was nearly an attack on its own.

    There¡¯s no way Carter won¡¯t have heard that. Now, he just needs to turn around without getting crushed under the Drakovian¡¯s hooves.

    Nox¡¯s cry had a second objective. Draw the enemy¡¯s attention. With their primary mode of attack being to shoot over the rear of their horses, Quinten knew it would be difficult for them to stay focused on charging through the Rivennans ahead.

    The first arrow was like the first drop of rain in a spring shower, dozens of droplets following in its wake. Quinten drew on the air ahead, disturbed by hundreds of galloping horses and the men astride them. He pulled it toward their charge, crossing the streams one over the other. It created a vortex of suction that pulled the arrows off course, sending them safely over, or into, the tall grass at their feet.

    From their position higher up on the slope the dip in the land created, they could see Carter¡¯s patrol shift. Splitting in two, each side broke off at an angle, forcing their horses to climb the sides of the bowl. Quinten watched on, the Lt¡¯s plan not fully registering until he saw the lead horse for each section turn back toward the center, using the downward slope to swing around while maintaining their speed.

    That¡¯s brilliant. Quinten thought with no small amount of admiration.

    He wasn¡¯t the only one to take notice. A horn called and the Drakovian squad roared in response, pushing their horses faster. They were going to try to barrel through Carter using their greater numbers.

    The separated units rejoined, charging directly into the enemy. One rider pulling ahead as the two waves of steel, blood, and horse closed the distance.

    Quinten could feel the sweat running down his back and checked his Gift well¡ªstill a third of the way full¡ªbefore drawing a bit more to improve his eyesight. He recognized Mage Gentry immediately and let out an unrestrained whoop that jarred those around him. They stared for only a moment when their eyes were drawn forward. Gentry raised his hand and a blast of fire¡ªfifty feet long¡ªburst from his palm. The roar of flames was loud enough to be heard over the thunder of pounding hooves.

    ¡°What the FUCK!¡± Barty¡¯s voiced boomed.

    The Drakovian charge was in shambles, their front line turned to chaos as riders jerked one way or another to avoid the flames. The terror birthed by the idea of being burned alive quickly faded, replaced by confusion, when the crash of steel on steel and the cries of men and horses rang out in place of the screams of the burning.

    ¡°We need to hit them now, before they realize the flames are an illusion.¡± Quinten yelled, signaling for Star to go faster with a kick of his heels. Amplifying his voice, he called, ¡°Charge!¡± The order rolling like thunder across the plains.

    He watched the distance closely. They were going to reach the killing zone soon. An area that was too close for his wind screen to protect the unit from the shower of arrows still raining down on them.

    Quinten dropped the magic and raised a hand high in a copy of Mage Gentry. Pointing his open palm toward the enemy, he did what he could to shield those behind him from the burst of light that erupted from his hand.

    Men screamed, and several dropped their bows, trying to cover their burning eyes.

    Quinten let off two more bursts, but it wasn¡¯t enough to stop several of their own going down under enemy fire.

    Mage Gentry or Cornel either ran out of energy, or chose to conserve what remained. The billowing flames winked out of existence, revealing Lt. Carter and his forces charging past the remains of the Drakovian vanguard laying broken in the trampled and bloody grass.

    They were moments from contact. The confusion and disorder forcing the enemy to slow and bunch together. Taking away the Drakovian¡¯s strongest advantage, their mobility.

    Star¡¯s legs fully extended in what felt like flight as he flowed with her movements. Quinten drew Astraea from her sheath and rose in his stirrups. The extra height giving him just enough room to let loose.

    Pulling on the air from behind their charge, he funneled it in tight, spinning it around his blade until it combined with the fire burning at the sword¡¯s tip with a loud whump. When the flames erupted forward in a thirty-foot-long, twenty-foot-wide cone, there was no mistaking it as anything but the real thing.

    The bloodcurdling screams that fill the shocked silence left no room for doubt.

    Quinten cut the flames off quickly, not wanting to injure Star, and they plunged into the smoldering waste that was the enemy¡¯s rear line. The first man he passed clutched at his face, screaming. Judging by what appeared to be melted wax visible between spread fingers, Quinten''s blade cutting into his neck was a mercy.

    The next warrior was armed, though one arm hung limply to the side. A quick exchange had the man falling from the saddle, never to rise again.

    Barty charged past, having finally reached him, running a man through as he exchanged blows with another cavalryman. A ball of fire flew overhead, erupting amongst a cluster of Drakovians.

    The chaos of warfare continued, and Quinten found himself lost amidst the waves. Like the North Star in the night sky, Astraea was an ever-present companion, slicing through leather armor and bone as if it wasn¡¯t there, amplifying his magic as he wreaked devastation on those who sought his end.

    When the horn calls started in earnest and the Drakovians that could, turned in retreat. Quinten was forced to fight his way back to the surface and out if the violence he¡¯d submerged himself into so deeply.

    ¡°Let them go!¡± He called. Looking around him, he nodded in grim satisfaction.

    This would be a day they never forget.

 B1C60 - The Bloodied Plains

    ¡°Do you have any idea what you¡¯ve done?¡± Fort Commander Aldric yelled, his voice rising almost to a scream in pitch.

    Quinten stared over the commander¡¯s shoulder at the metal shield hung on the wall for decoration. His complexion turning a shade of red that would have concerned Quinten had spittle not been collecting on his cheek.

    The Northreach Light Cavalry unit¡¯s return from battle was a complex affair. The men of the Army and mages of the core celebrating their victory while mourning the losses they¡¯d received.

    Arriving at Northreach, cheering soldiers called to them from the ramparts. With Crowds of well-wishers waiting for them inside the walls with jugs of cool ale and wine, ready to toast their to their success. The messenger Quinten sent ahead seemed to have spread the news of their win far and wide on his way to the Fort Commander¡¯s office.

    Quinten would have to find and compensate the man well.

    From Star¡¯s back, Quinten found the triage center was already in place off to one side. With the wounded getting sorted based on severity. Ronan¡¯s thin figure jumped from patient to patient. The golden glow of his Gift stabilizing those who needed help to make it the rest of the way to the Healer¡¯s Ward. Riding over, Quinten dismounted. He went to hand the reins off to an excited stable boy when Declan slid in front of them with a scowl that sent the boy backtracking. He dropped the expression, winking at Quinten as he took Starbrite¡¯s reins.

    ¡°Welcome back, m¡¯lord! Congratulations on your victory.¡±

    The corner of Quinten''s mouth tugged up at the boy¡¯s antics, but he managed to keep the rest of his face professional.

    ¡°Thank you, Declan. I need to see to my men. Please let your sister know that Star may need some babying for the next day or two. I had to push her harder than I like to.¡±

    With a bow or his head, Declan was all business. ¡°Yes, m¡¯lord. Is there anything else you need from me?¡±

    Sighing, Quinten looked down at his gore soaked armor and the clothing underneath. ¡°Once you¡¯re done with her, can you lay out a fresh set of clothes? I expect I¡¯ll be meeting with the Fort Commander shortly.¡±

    He never did get the chance to rinse off the filth of the battlefield. A runner arrived before Quinten finished at the triage area, bearing a letter from Commander Aldric, demanding that he present himself immediately.

    ¡°We defeated a superior force on the field of battle, commander.¡± Quinten answered.

    Anger and indignation crashed against his mental shields, a whirlpool of sensation as the fuming commander circled him, the man¡¯s raging emotions leaving him too amped up to remain in one place.

    ¡°Yes,¡± the man admitted begrudgingly. ¡°Your small victory may have bloodied their noses, but your activities leading up to it may have cost us the war.¡±

    How, by the falling stars of night, did he come to that conclusion?

    ¡°I want you out of my fortress. I don¡¯t care who your grandfather is or if they start calling you the champion of the bloody fucking plains. You will not leave the fort unless it is with orders in hand.¡± Turning, Commander Aldric glared at the room¡¯s other occupant. ¡°I may not have the authority to punish him myself, but expect to see him charged with disobeying orders.¡±

    Captain Leduc raised an eyebrow. ¡°Which orders are you referring to? Did you explicitly tell him not to? I know I did no such thing.¡± She crossed one leg over the other, the flash of a pale ankle showing from under her brown robes as she reclining into her seat with a relaxed poise that Quinten wished he felt, instead of the bone-deep weariness that had him desperate for rest.

    ¡°As far as I can tell,¡± She continued, ¡°There are no grounds to charge him with anything, regardless of what he may have done on his own initiative. He fulfilled his responsibilities to his unit and this fort.¡± A Cheshire smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as her eyes narrowed. ¡°Was it not you who, only a few nights ago, lauded the success of the cavalry and reduced reports of enemy raids over the last two weeks?¡±

    Quinten breathed an internal sigh of relief. It was one thing to be told someone would support you, and another to witness them keeping their word. He wasn¡¯t sure how the confinement to the fort would play out in the end, but he was happy to know he wouldn¡¯t be placed in chains for dereliction of duty, or stars above, mutiny or treason.

    Based on the color of red Commander Aldric¡¯s face had achieved, Quinten wouldn¡¯t have put it past the man to try, anyway.

    I may need to be a bit more careful until I leave.

    The man¡¯s hands opened and closed into tight fists several times while he stared at the Captain. After several long moments of silence, he returned to his original target. ¡°Men and women died under your command today. Since you will not be leaving Northreach on patrol, I want you to be the one to tally the total number of casualties and process their Death Notes. The other Lt. of NRLC will be busy covering your absence in the rotation.¡± A flash of something cruel crossed his face and he continued. ¡°Until they can be replaced that is. They could not have been ignorant of your efforts in building a wall and chose not to report it. That is not the loyalty the Rivennan Army needs filling its ranks.¡±

    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    Quinten must have let something of his irritation show, because Aldric¡¯s face shifted minutely, a hint of pleasure bleeding through.

    Gritting his teeth, he asked. ¡°Permission to be excused?¡±

    The Fort Commander opened his mouth to deny the request, the self-satisfied gleam in the man¡¯s eye given away his intent. Thankfully, Captain Leduc¡¯s approval cut him off, her voice filling the office like the crack of a whip.

    Quinten saluted and turned on his heel, marching toward the door. He pulled it open and paused. ¡°Thirty,¡± he said without turning around.

    ¡°Thirty?¡± Aldric asked, confusion battling with the irritation in his voice. ¡°Thirty, what?¡±

    ¡°The casualty number you requested¡ªit¡¯s thirty¡ªthirty men and women died today.¡±

    *****

    The door shut behind the dirty and visibly weary lieutenant, its latch clicking into place, audible in the silence left in the young man¡¯s wake.

    Fort Commander Aldric stood in the center of the room, glaring at the closed door. Whirling around, he pointed a finger as Captain Leduc, his mustache twitching from side to side in anger.

    ¡°You did this to me!¡±

    Sighing, she rose to her feet with a roll of her eyes. ¡°No one did anything to you, Jensen.¡± She crossed the room, stopping before the open window. The inner keep visible below, the people filling it, figures until she touched on her own gift to make out their features.

    Jenson scoffed, and glassware rattled the sound of liquid pouring a moment later. ¡°You know how this will make me look. My stance on a wall is well known. Everyone will know this was done without my approval. They¡¯ll think I can¡¯t control my own men.¡±

    He¡¯s not your man, he¡¯s mine. Captain Leduc thought, watching the crimson-toned light reflecting off of Lt. Ashford¡¯s armor as he crossed the open courtyard below. The cheers of those present who recognized him loud enough to reach her on the fifth floor even without boosted hearing.

    ¡°What¡¯s done is done. One section of the wall is almost complete. You¡¯ve already seen its impact. Central Command is going to demand that we finish it. Then they¡¯ll likely order all of our resources to continue building more.¡± Turning away from the window, her interest now no longer visible, she added with a regretful smile. ¡°King Frederick was never going to consider you for the next Lord Marshal, Jenson. You bought your current title along with that wife of yours. That is not something the King, nor the Queen is going to overlook. Without the Gift, they will never forget you are common-born.¡±

    With a heavy swallow from his glass, Jenson sat on the corner of his desk, his head lowered. ¡°I hope you know what you¡¯re doing. There is no stopping this now. Today¡¯s battle is only the first stone to fall, but it is going to trigger more and before you know it, the whole mountainside could come tumbling down.¡±

    ¡°Good thing we¡¯re on the plains.¡± Captain Leduc said, heading for the door. Stopping with her palm gripping its handle, she said. ¡°The bloodied plains. I like that. It¡¯s a good name for the battle that started the war in earnest.¡±

    *****

    Southbend

    Skyrunner Headquarters

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, let¡¯s go¡ªoff your ass, bird boy! Priority mission from Command.¡±

    The pounding at Cedric¡¯s door had him rolling out of bed before he was fully aware. He hit the floor with a loud oomph, pushing himself to his feet groggily. He started blindly pulling on clothes until his Gift shifted his vision enough to see in the pitch black room.

    Bang, bang, bang!

    ¡°People are dying while you do your hair. Hurry it up!¡± Captain Lianna Vivir yelled through the door, her volume rattling it in its frame.

    Exiting into the hall, he tripped, inches from crashing face first into the wall opposite his room. Captain Vivir leaned out of the way, her arms crossed and frowning at his disheveled appearance.

    ¡°You look like shit. Is this the message you want to send to our soldiers when they see you? Go brush your teeth, your breath offends me.¡±

    Cedric glared at the woman and made no attempt to hide his irritation, but he did as she said, stalking through his room and into the tiny closet they jokingly called an attached bathroom. Captain Vivir followed him in with no concern for decorum.

    It had been this way since he¡¯d arrived a month earlier. She¡¯d show up at random times¡ªusually those most inconvenient¡ªand have him drill for an emergency assignment. Then she¡¯d pull him away from whatever he¡¯d been doing for training.

    He¡¯d be hating both life and his new assignment, if his ability to fly wasn¡¯t improving so quickly.

    ¡°You¡¯re getting quicker. I might make a Skyrunner out of you yet.¡±

    Splashing water on his face, Cedric grunted while drying his face. Tossing the damp cloth on a pile of dirty clothes that the launderers would grab later. He looked down at his mentor. ¡°What fresh torture do you have planned for me today?¡±

    She sucked her teeth in a way she knew he hated, returning his glower with a smile and a sparkle in her eye.

    ¡°No training today. Pack your shit. We¡¯re being relocated. I guess things are heating up and we¡¯re all getting sent north.¡±

    Cedric frowned, his lips pursing. ¡°Why would they send all the Skyrunners to the same place? Doesn¡¯t that¡ªdefeat our purpose?¡±

    Captain Vivir stared at him for a long moment. Shutting her eyes slowly, she shook her head, mumbling to herself.

    ¡°You poor, innocent child. I¡¯m not talking about just our unit. We are all being mobilized and sent north, the entire south. Some nutty Lt. decided to take on a Drakovian force that outnumbered him three to one. They are saying he killed them to a man and raised a wall formed out of their bones.¡± ¡± She made to leave, tossing one more insult over her shoulder. ¡°Just so we¡¯re clear, I¡¯d trade you for him¡ªeven knowing he¡¯s insane.¡±

    Cedric stared after the woman, her boots clicking on the wooden planks as she made her way down the hallway. A month in her presence, and he still couldn¡¯t tell she was joking. Either way, it wasn¡¯t important to him right then. The news she delivered making much more of an impact than her parting barb.

    Well, you¡¯ve really outdone yourself this time, Q. What in the Star-cursed night have you gotten yourself into?

 B1C61 - Quickly Shifting Winds

    Thud.

    Thud.

    Thud.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to break my secretary¡¯s desk if you keep doing that.¡± Harper admonished from her seat behind her own desk.

    ¡°I¡¯m dying¡ªactually, no. This is a fate worse than death.¡± Quinten said, letting his forehead fall onto the wooden surface with another hollow thud, where he let it rest.

    Exhaling loudly from behind her stack of papers, she said. ¡°It¡¯s been a week, Q, and it¡¯s not like you¡¯re in prison. We warned you what would happen when the Fort Commander found out what you¡¯d been up to.¡±

    He rolled his head to the side and watched her horsetail bob as she wrote. ¡°What happened to the repair requests I gave you yesterday?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Already done. Why do you think I¡¯m just sitting here?¡±

    Her head whipped up, and she glared at him. ¡°That was a week¡¯s worth of work, Quinten.¡±

    He scrunched his nose at her use of his full name. He¡¯d made the mistake of wincing the first time, and now she used it like a weapon. His explanation that his Grandmother used it when he was in trouble only seemed to egg her on.

    ¡°How long do you think until the Mage Commander sends Captain Leduc new orders for me?¡±

    Waving a hand at the massive pile of papers on her desk, she said, ¡°Stars if I know. They were quick enough in sending orders to pool resources and continue construction between forts¡ªThank you for that, by the way.¡± She added with another, stronger glare.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± He said with a grin. He sat back, intertwining his fingers behind his head. ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why they didn¡¯t assign me to oversee its construction. I¡¯m the one who started it in the first place.¡±

    There was a knock at the door before Harper¡¯s displaced secretary popped their head into the room. A moment later, another shorter head stuck out from around the door.

    ¡°My lord!¡± said Declan. The excitement practically bleeding from the two words had Quinten on his feet in an instant.

    ¡°What is it?¡± He demanded.

    The boy stepped fully into the room. He clutched a sealed folder with the words Lt. Quinten Ashford written across the top, between his hands.

    ¡°This just arrived for you, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Oh, thank the starry night!¡± Called Harper as Quinten shot across the room, unconsciously tapping his Gift in his haste.

    *****

    ¡°They assigned you, the now infamous Lt., to Mage Core Command?¡± Mallory asked in disbelief that night at dinner.

    ¡°Hey now,¡± objected Talia. ¡°It depends who you ask. To some, he¡¯s a hero.¡±

    ¡°Infamous for sure.¡± Complained Harper with her head buried in her hands. ¡°At least to anyone working on his star¡¯s cursed wall.¡±

    Quinten grinned, happy to be the target of their jokes if it kept them smiling. His own slipped the barest inch. Ronan sat in the seat beside him, but Quinten could tell his mind wasn¡¯t there with them.

    Likely, somewhere filled with blood.

    As the weeks went by, the weight of those his friend couldn¡¯t save slowly piled onto his shoulders and Quinten was at a loss for how to help him. On instinct, he sent a thin tendril of Empathy to connect with the shadowed young man. Sadness and regret¡¯s chill flowed through the link immediately.

    ¡°How was the Ward today?¡± He asked, his words meant for just the two of them.

    Ronan shrugged, looking down at his hands resting in his lap ¡°No one died today, so there is that.¡±

    A raucous laugh filled the room from a few tables over and the pair raised their heads to the noise.

    ¡°And that asshole? Do I need to have a word with him?¡± Quinten asked, spotting Lt. Wells seated a few tables away.

    Ronan snorted, shaking his head. Quinten stared at his friend, the flare of attraction he¡¯d felt through the bond catching him off guard. Remembering the surge of jealousy Wells¡¯ had given off a few weeks earlier¡ªin this very room¡ªleft Quinten raising a figurative eyebrow.

    That¡­ would be a development. Quinten thought as he tuned back into the conversation at his own table.

    ¡°The whole south is being mobilized, all additional units assigned to each fort are being sent north.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t wait.¡± Lianna said, her fist striking her palm with an audible smack. ¡°I¡¯m ready to meet those horse-fuckers blade to blade.¡±

    Quinten shook his head at her innocence. He was sure she believed in the words, but he expected her opinion would change when the time finally came.

    Raising his drink in a toast, he said. ¡°To the end of this war. May it come faster than we empty our cups.¡±

    *****

    The combined Army and Core forces started to trickle in over the following week. Quinten waited with bated breath for the Mage Command Unit to arrive. He¡¯d heard good things about the MCU since joining the Core. That they were the tip of the spear and their ranks were made up of the Core¡¯s elites.

    He was excited to see if their reputation matched reality.

    Declan was waiting for him when he returned from his daily tour of the Fort¡¯s interior. He was astride Star in an attempt to keep her exercised and in a well-meaning effort to spend some quality time with the beautiful beast.

    ¡°The Lord Marshal has arrived, my lord. Rumor says the Mage Commander is with him¡±

    Sliding to the ground, Quinten smiled at Layla and passed over the mare¡¯s reins. He pulled Star¡¯s head toward him and gave it a thorough scratch.

    ¡°Thank you, Declan.¡± Quinten flipped the boy a silver and nodded to the woman with a wink she pretended not to see. ¡°Treat your sister to a nice dinner. I¡¯m not sure how much longer we¡¯ll be here in Northreach or where we¡¯ll go from here.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, my lord!¡± He called as Quinten left them.

    Strolling through the streets, he used his Gifts, both augmented hearing and by casting Empathy around him in a thin net to gauge the overall moral of the fort.

    People seem to be in good spirits. Even knowing that Northreach has been designated the military¡¯s main staging ground for the foreseeable future.

    The streets, which had been open and easily navigable when Quinten arrived at the fort over a month before, were now filled. Wagons and carts loaded with supplies, bottlenecking routes and backing up entire streets in their chaos.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Quinten reached the headquarters building soon enough. His walk interrupted only once when he¡¯d telekinetically stopped a cart from running over a small child and their mother when its driver grew frustrated and tried to turn without looking.

    The people might be in good spirits, but this place is turning into a madhouse.

    The stairs leading into the building were packed with new arrivals. Their voices filling the air as questions and answers were shouted. Quinten pushed through the crowd and through the open doors. One look inside told him that the headquarter¡¯s interior was just as bad. Mentally preparing himself, he made his way to the stairs and started climbing. He wasn¡¯t sure where his grandfather would be, but as the highest ranking military officer, Quinten knew starting at the Fort Commander¡¯s office was a good guess.

    Arriving at the top floor and the offices of the fort¡¯s senior officer leadership, Quinten suspected he¡¯d been right. Dozens of unfamiliar Lieutenants filled the floor¡¯s landing.

    ¡°Excuse me¡ªpardon me!¡± Quinten said as he pushed his way through, receiving more than a few glares before he made it to the war room door. It was blocked by an older looking Army Lt. and one from the Core. Quinten was in luck, remembering the army officer from the visit with his grandfather in Avoncross.

    ¡°It¡¯s nice seeing you again, Lt. Bauer. Is the Lord Marshall in there?¡±

    The throng behind Quinten filled in the wake of his passage and pushed him forward. The unknown Lt. took this as an advance, missing Bauer¡¯s nod in the affirmative. She stepped in front of Quinten, pushing him back with Gifted-assistance.

    ¡°Senior officers only.¡±

    Lt. Bauer reached forward and placed a calming hand on the Lt¡¯s elbow. ¡°He¡¯s fine. The Lord Marshall asked that he be let in if he showed up.¡±

    The woman frowned, but stepped back to stand beside the door. Quinten nodded to her, shooting Lt. Bauer a thankful smile.

    The Lt. pushed open the door silently, holding it just wide enough that Quinten could slip through.

    She wasn¡¯t kidding about this being senior officers only.

    The war room, which was filled with Lt. on a weekly basis for the Fort Commander¡¯s officers¡¯ meeting. Where Captains sat at the Commander¡¯s table, they were now displaced by Commanders and Majors, forced to stand and listen as the Fort Commander gave his report.

    ¡°The remaining section of wall between here and Alden¡¯s Rest will be completed in the next two days. With the northernmost point of the border secure, construction efforts can then shift to the ten miles of wall separating Northreach from Fort Hamitic to the West.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s our estimated completion time?¡± Quinten heard his grandfather ask, recognizing his voice, even if he couldn¡¯t see him from beside the now closed door.

    The Fort Commander shifted where he stood, folding his hands behind his back to keep their nervous twitching from being seen.

    ¡°Two weeks at the current rate, my lord. One, if we are able to borrow mages from other units.¡± Captain Leduc answered from the standing crowd. She was off to his left, and Quinten made his way over, careful not to bump into those around him.

    ¡°Thank you, Captain Leduc.¡± Said Commander Aldric. Rather than continue, he watched Quinten''s grandfather as he considered the information.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to have that completed and fortified sooner rather than later.¡± The Lord Marshall said to the man beside him. ¡°I expect we¡¯ll see the Drakovians change tactics once we start construction to connect Fort Hamitic and Offton.¡±

    Mage Commander Taskin nodded his agreement. ¡°See to it Majors. I expect both walls to be complete in the next three days.¡± He peered over his shoulder at those standing behind them and grinned. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you, but I am more than ready to get these savages out of our lands.¡±

    His statement was met with cheers and the man¡¯s grin grew. Somehow, it seemed to contain too many teeth.

    Quinten slid in beside his target, speaking in a low tone meant for her alone. ¡°Good afternoon, Captain Leduc.¡±

    She raised a brow at his appearance, reaching over she pretended to brush of his stitched rank as if it were dirty. Scowling half-heartedly, Quinten pushed her hand away and nodded toward the front of the room.

    ¡°Special permission to join you all.¡±

    She blew out a breath, sending the dangling blond curl clear of her face. ¡°Must be nice,¡± she said.

    Quinten could only shrug. Peering around the room, he saw a few people that looked familiar, but there were a few Majors from the Core seated at the main table. None of whom jumped out to him as his new Commanding Officer.

    ¡°Captain, I don¡¯t suppose you could point out my new CO?¡±

    Leduc let out a loud snort, making no attempt to contain it. Quinten winced internally, but refused to shrink in on himself as others took notice of the Lt. In their midst.

    ¡°Major Hanevold isn¡¯t here. She¡¯s too busy running everything and has no time for these petty things.¡±

    Frowning, Quinten looked around the room once more as if it would prove the Captain wrong.

    ¡°If she¡¯s not here, then where is she?¡±

    Grinning, Captain Leduc shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ve no clue. But if I were you, I¡¯d hurry up and figure it out. She won¡¯t put up with a shirker and is quick to make an example of those she meets.¡±

    The scowl Quinten shot her way this time was real. She knew him well enough by now to know he was no such thing and she was just having fun at his expense.

    Still, even knowing that, it didn¡¯t stop him from heading for the door.

    *****

    The looks leveled at Quinten when he exited the Commander¡¯s war room carried a physical weight to them. He momentarily froze under their combined scrutiny, but pushed through the awkwardness he felt at being the center of attention.

    He made it two steps before the questions started.

    ¡°What are they talking about?¡±

    ¡°When are we going to kick those horse-fuckers out of our lands?¡±

    Quinten ignored them, using his Gift to weave through the throng as they clustered together. Those in back not knowing what was going on, but not wanting to miss out either.

    He reached the railing and looked down at the lower levels, but the stairs remained blocked. With a quick glance at them¡ªand the hungry gazes between him and his escape¡ªQuinten grabbed the rail and leapt over the edge.

    He only fell for a moment, but it felt oddly freeing. The drop itself didn¡¯t take him to the ground floor. Instead, he landed in a crouch on the third due to the stairwell¡¯s clockwise climb along the wall.

    Rising to his full height, he took a step and froze as steel-grey eyes met golden-hazel.

    Quinten shook off his surprise first and bowed his head. ¡°Hello, Lt. Wyndham. This is a surprise.¡±

    ¡°You!¡±

    He raised a brow and waited for her to continue. She did not. Choosing instead to glare at him with a fist firmly planted on her hip.

    ¡°Yes¡ªwell¡­ Welcome to Northreach.¡± He said with unrepressed humor. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me, I need to find someone.¡±

    Stepping around her, he made it to the end of the landing when Daphne¡¯s muttered words pulled him up short.

    ¡°Starfire! If I¡¯m late again, Major Hanevold is going to kill me.¡±

    Turning on his heel, Quinten asked. ¡°Is the Mage Core Command Unit on the fourth floor?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± She called over her shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time.

    With a smile, he followed one step at a time. He¡ªafter all, had nothing to be late for.

    Unlike the top floor, the fourth began as a narrow hallway that widened the deeper he went, eventually opening into a sea of Mage Core brown.

    He stood there, unsure of where to go when movement from his left had him shifting instinctually. He moved far too slowly to protect himself. In less than a second, his assailant pinned his arms to his sides, wrapped him in a bear hug, and screamed his name into Quinten¡¯s ear.

    When they started drawing attention, Cedric dropped him. He held him at arm¡¯s length, and the big idiot just stood there, grinning.

    Quinten stared at his friend in shock. ¡°Cedric? but¡ªYour here?¡±

    He nodded excitedly, his grin infectious. ¡°Just got in a few hours ago. They pulled the whole unit¡ª¡±

    ¡°Chat with your betrothed later, birdbrain. We¡¯ve got orders to deliver.¡±

    The muscles of Quinten''s neck tightened at the harsh tone and his lips pulled down in a frown. He locked eyes with a Captain standing a few feet away, but not before catching Cedric¡¯s wince.

    She was short. The maybe reaching five feet on a good day kind of short. She wore her curly black hair cut far shorter than was fashionable. Despite her small stature, she managed to look down at him with a small, pert nose that left her eyes appearing a little hollow.

    ¡°Captain.¡± Quinten said flatly, thankful they were indoors and that he technically didn¡¯t need to salute.

    Cedric clapped him on the shoulder, moving to stand beside the woman. Somehow, he seemed smaller, even though he was a foot taller. ¡°I¡¯ll come find you and Ronan as soon as I get back. What building are you in?¡±

    ¡°Third floor, building twelve.¡± Quinten said. He watched the Captain drag his friend from the room, waiting until they were out of sight to let the frown form.

    Whatever that was, I don¡¯t think I like it.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    Replacing the frown with a more jovial expression, Quinten raised a brow at Daphne¡¯s tone. In that moment, he knowingly made the poor decision to screw with her.

    ¡°I¡¯m here for you.¡± He said with faked sincerity.

    She blinked several times, her mouth opened and closing. ¡°Ex¡ªexcuse me?¡±

    Quinten held on to his straight face by a thread. ¡°Your debt.¡± He said. ¡°I¡¯ve come to call it in. I thought about what you said, and I¡¯ve decided to accept your offer.¡±

    Panic filled her features, and she took a step back. ¡°What offer? I didn¡¯t make you an offer.¡± She said, her voice rising in volume.

    Quinten watched her for a long moment, and gave in, laughing before the joke could go any further. She stared at him in confusion, her expression quickly shifting to one of anger.

    ¡°How dare you.¡± She hissed, leaning toward him. Her hands were balled into fist and Quinten realized that messing with her may have been a worse idea than he originally thought. ¡°Get out of here.¡± She continued. ¡°This floor is for Mage Core Command.¡±

    ¡°I know. And thank you for your help in finding it.¡± Quinten said, peering around them. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happened to know who I should talk to about reporting in, would you?¡±

    ¡°Reporting in?¡± She asked, horror dawning on her face. ¡°You aren¡¯t assigned to my unit.¡±

    Quinten returned the look with a too wide smile. ¡°As of a week ago, you would be mistaken.¡±

 B1C62 - Quickly Shifting Winds

    Quinten surveyed the construction effort before him with wry amusement. It was nothing like the two-person teams they¡¯d had to rotate between ten-hour shifts for weeks on end.

    Groups of ten walked before the wall, working together to raise, stabilize, and drive the foundations deep enough to last before a second set of ten mages came in behind them, turning it all to stone. There was no concern for keeping some of their energy back in reserve in the event the Drakovians decided to attack. There was no need. That was where Quinten and his unit came into play.

    Two companies of heavy infantry marched along the wall¡¯s exterior. Their only purpose to shield the exhausted mages behind them from the enemy. It would be the three hundred and sixty light calvary, their embedded mages, and Quinten''s own platoon of twelve Command Unit mages that would be responsible for any actual combat.

    That was why Quinten found himself sitting on a nearby rise, leaning back against Star¡¯s belly. His Gift channeled into his eyes as he swept the wind-whipped fields of grass and open prairie before him.

    There is another one. He thought. Following the enemy scout with his gaze.

    This made the third he¡¯d spotted in the four hours he¡¯d been standing¡ªor sitting in his case¡ªoverwatch for the construction below. He let his eyes play across the miles of wall erected in their wake. It cut across the landscape like a raised scar, disfiguring its natural beauty.

    The wind shifted, the loamy scent of turned earth, sweetened by crushed grass, tickled Quinten''s nose and brought with it a voice on the breeze. ¡°Lt. Ashford, time to come in. Mage Langley is on her way to take over for you.¡±

    Quinten stood with a grunt, his muscles growing tight over the long hours of inactivity. Star climbed to her feet with a click of his tongue. He was bent over, tightening the strap that ran along the mare¡¯s barrel, when intuition told him that something had changed. His gloved palm crunched in the grass as he used it to pivot around and back toward where he¡¯d seen the Drakovian scout.

    His Gift ran down pathways memorized through repetition to augment his vision. Gaze scanning the distance for where he¡¯d last seen the enemy. He froze, his vision filled with something far worse than a man and his horse.

    His hand rose, a finger on each side of his lips, and with a small effort of will to strengthen his lungs, throat, and vocal cords. Quinten blew out into a high ringing whistle that swept across the plains. Heads snapped up and turned in his direction.

    One whistle or horn call was meant to bring everyone on alert. The second whistle he let loose stated he¡¯d spotted unknown forces. When two more horn blasts from farther east rang out. The soldiers below started moving in a rush. Running to their place in formation, the infantry formed up around the mages who¡¯d stopped their work on the wall with Quinten''s first whistle.

    Quinten pulled Star¡¯s saddle straps tight, checking each one for fit, and the horse¡¯s comfort, before leaping into the saddle. The two raced town the hill toward what had been the command tent, which was now being quickly disassembled. People rushed around in an organized chaos as the cavalry formed up and the twenty mages of Quinten''s unit grouped in around Captain Conniver and the other company COs.

    Soldiers and mages hurried out of his way as he barreled toward the gathering. He slid from Star¡¯s back with a dull thud. His boots scraping and rustling in the long grass. Momentum carried him forward into a run that ended with him saluting before the assembled officers.

    ¡°Report Lieutenant.¡± The captain said. She shook out her long dark hair before pulling a helmet low over her brow.

    ¡°One and a half to two thousand heading right for us, captain.¡±

    His words setting all within hearing distance to whispering. The consensus among senior leadership was that by reinforcing the construction efforts with nearly a thousand units, five hundred infantry supported by two platoons of cavalry. They would act as a deterrent to enemy aggression.

    It appeared they had been wrong.

    While the numbers weren¡¯t nearly as desperate as Quinten''s last encounter with the enemy. They were without the element of surprise. To make matters worse, battlefield conditions were far from ideal given their current make-up of units.

    ¡°Shit.¡± Captain Conniver said, voicing the words aloud for the rest of them. ¡°Ok. This is what we¡¯re going to do¡­¡±

    *****

    Quinten watched as the two to three foot long, twelve to eighteen-inches deep troughs affectionately called ankle breakers were formed in what looked like random rows, but were in fact staggered in a complicated patter meant to ensure that no one path led all the way through. Interspersed across the open ground between the end of the current wall and the defensive position¡ªset a hundred feet back along its length by Captain Conniver¡ªrose low, two-foot-high walls meant to stop an enemy¡¯s direct charge. Behind them stood foundations of the soon to be basic, primitive earthen walls of Rivenna¡¯s newest fort. A billowing cloud of black smoke arched into the sky from the freshly grown, and now burning tree located just outside and downwind of their position.

    The shift of Star¡¯s weight and the tug of the lead line connecting his saddle horn to the remount trailing behind rubbed against his armpit, drawing his attention forward and away from the desperate attempt at establishing a defensible position before the enemy arrived.

    That was not Quinten''s responsibility. Nor was it the five other members of the quick reaction force, or QRF team, quickly assembled and tasked with reaching Fort Offton. With the wall¡¯s rapid expansion, they were now closer to the western fort than they were to Northreach and if the fort sent reinforcements to their aid, they would be swallowed whole by the army currently charging toward those they were leaving behind.

    Mage Langley¡ªa frequent member to any scouting partyhad them under the cover of an illusion, hiding them from sight. She was also the only mage in their group with whom Quinten had the chance to speak. A second mage used their Elemental gift to keep the air clear of the dust from their passage.

    Movement to the north brought a grimace to his face. He wasn¡¯t sure how they knew, but a group of Drakovians spilt from the main hoard and were heading southwest along the same path as Quinten and his team.

    ¡°How long can you keep this up, Langley?¡± He called, borrowing a little of the wind being used to cover their tracks to carry his words forward rather than projecting his voice louder.

    ¡°With just the six of us to cover¡­ Little less than thirty minutes?¡± She said over her shoulder. Her voice reaching him without issue.

    Not long enough to clear their line of sight. The leather of his gloves or that of his reins creaking in his balled fist. I can try to take over for her at that point, but I¡¯m not nearly as confident in shielding us as I¡¯d like to be. Should we let them get ahead of us...?

    Quinten''s vision rippled as it magnified, bringing the enemy into sight. There were twenty-five in the Drakovians party and it left him unsure of the best option forward. Did they hide and try to work around them, or did they set a trap and remove them from the equation? While he considered their options, the six of them continued riding west, the Drakovians drawing ever closer.

    ¡°Sir,¡± one of the mages¡ªwhose name Quinten didn¡¯t know¡ªsaid, ¡°what are we going to do about them? They aren¡¯t breaking away.¡±

    Quinten frowned in thought. Finally, he answered. ¡°Langley¡¯s illusion will fail long before we get out or their field of vision. I can try to take over for her, but she¡¯s better than I am¡ª¡±

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    ¡°That¡¯d be a first¡­¡± one of the mages muttered, their voice loud enough that he could pick out the words over the pounding of their horses¡¯ hooves echoing in the pocket of air keeping their escape quiet.

    He chose to ignore the comment, instead saying. ¡°I¡¯m of a mind to show the enemy why the mages of Rivenna are to be feared.¡±

    His statement earned him a number of grins and even a small whoop from up ahead.

    *****

    With an effort of will, Quinten laid still in the tall grass. Controlling his breathing as best he could while he waited. His five squad mates laying on their bellies within a dozen feet of him.

    They¡¯d pushed hard, cutting the angle of the enemy¡¯s approach to get ahead until they could find an opportunity to hide their horses. Time was quickly running out on Mage Langley¡¯s illusion when the mage who¡¯d commented earlier, Mage Boden he¡¯d come to learn, spotted a stand of trees in the distance.

    One final push saw them to the stand of timber, safely hidden with it between them and the approaching Drakovians. Once their horses and remounts were secured, Quinten waved the others over.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have much time. I doubt their leader will bring them too close to anything that could hide an enemy, even one as small as this.¡± He said, nodding at the trees behind them.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go. Stay low and we should go undetected.¡± Locking eyes with Langley, he said. ¡°I¡¯ll take over on the illusions. Twelve horses and six people was a little daunting, but I can handle the six of us for a hundred feet in tall grass.¡± She held his gaze for a long moment, as if considering whether she trusted him to keep his word. Eventually, she nodded, and it seemed to set the other four at ease.

    They view her as the leader. Quinten thought, the corner of his lip twitching as he fought back a smile.

    ¡°Does anyone have any questions? Speak now. You won¡¯t get another chance before the blood starts flowing.¡±

    It was closer to two hundred feet before he¡¯d been satisfied that they were where they needed to be. No one had any questions, and Quinten took the opportunity to get the names of the remaining three mages while he could. The thought of his orders sending one of them to their death without knowing their name made him want to vomit.

    Quinten took point. With Mages Uehara and Boden placed to either side of him. As the only three mages with Physical gifts, it was on them to protect Mages Langley, Malle, and Rasken in the row behind them. He¡¯d been surprised when Uehara shifted, her long hazelnut hair turning a tawny brown. The fur sprouting all along her exposed skin becoming mottled. It matched the heads of grass gone to seed around them, letting her blend into the landscape and become nearly invisible to anyone standing more than a dozen feet away.

    Breathe in¡­ Breathe out¡­

    The pounding of horse hooves on soft earth padded by a thick layer of vegetation reached his ears first. The Gift being channeled to them picked it up before anyone, other than maybe Uehara. With her shifted form, there was no telling how it affected her hearing.

    Flexing his Mental gift to shift the rays of light bearing down on him, Quinten slowly lifted his head just far enough to see between the shifting stalks blowing in the wind.

    The Drakovians were heading straight towards them.

    He risked using a little more of his Gift and his vision wavered before settling on the leader¡¯s face. It had been years since Quinten had really had the chance to observe a Drakovian. The Battle of the Bloodied Plains progressed far too quickly to allow for it. Afterwards¡­ He had no desire to stare at the blood and gore caked dead.

    The group itself was made up of mostly young men. A few could have been as young as himself, but the majority appeared a few years older. They were thin of build, but strong. Their muscles were well defined and toned to a level that surpassed the average Rivennan soldier. It leant them a brutal, warlike visage.

    Their leader was an older man, his face weathered by the sun. Deep wrinkles ran across the man¡¯s forehead and branched out from around his eyes. Eyes that scanned the area before them, looking for any sign of danger.

    The QRF team remained where they were. Quinten maintained the weak illusion he had over their positions. It wasn¡¯t meant to conceal them. Lying as they were, it was unnecessary. Instead, he was manipulating the light between them to give the image of grass shifting in the wind.

    The Drakovian war-party made it to within twenty feet when things started to go wrong. The ears of one of the lead rider¡¯s horses flicked back and forth and it turned its head. It let out a high-pitched whinny that carried across the plains, easily reaching the timber a few hundred feet away.

    Quinten held his breath and almost swore aloud in irritation when an answering neigh rang out from among the trees. The effect was immediate. In a society where life was lived on horseback, an unknown horse¡¯s call was all they needed to know something was wrong.

    With the element of surprise lost, it was now or never.

    Quinten buried his fingers in the soft earth along with the tips of his boots as he launched himself into the air, closing ten feet of distance in an instant. He lacked the coordination to draw Astraea. Choosing instead to form a fireball between his cupped hands. With an effort of will, he released the miniature star just ahead of center of the now retreating unit. The fire-wreathed orb flew through the air with a sizzling sound that set Quinten''s teeth on edge. When the ball struck the ground, it erupted in a shower of flame, dirt, and disrupted air, its boom echoing for miles in the open terrain.

    Quinten landed in a roll. Popping back to his feet, his stomach clenched as bloody pieces of horse and man mingled with the dirt raining down from the top of the explosion¡¯s cloud. Screams from both filled the air, and Quinten knew this ambush would be the one to leave him with nightmares. He pushed the thought away and focused on the task at hand.

    Drawing Astraea from her sheath, Quinten pumped his Physical gift through his body and closed the remaining distance. The Drakovian¡¯s tightly bunched formation was in disarray from the fireball. But the terrified mounts were more than willing to run away, and to do so at speed.

    Quinten pulled on the surrounding air to aid his movements. Tearing off, he left a path of shorn wheatgrass in his wake as he rushed to cut off the enemy¡¯s escape. Another ball of flame arched overhead, landing with its own destructive force and taking three more Drakovians with it. A blur of motion to his left flashed through the air and a rider was unseated with Uehara baring him to the ground.

    A scream of surprise and terror pealed from up ahead. The noise cut off as the horse went down. Its front hoof slipping on a sheet of ice, sending it crashing sideways and rolling back to its feet¡ªcrushing its rider beneath its weight.

    Starfire and fury, Quinten thought, this is chaos.

    The remaining Drakovians split around the patch of ice and their dead compatriot. The man lay face up, his skull crushed flat against the frozen surface.

    He dug deep, pulling on even more of his Gift to fuel his muscles. Quinten sprinted forward, leaping over the ice. He charged after the eight riders furthest away from the stationary portion of his QRF team.

    Can¡¯t let them get awa¡ªQuinten swept Astraea upward and to the side, shattering the arrow flying toward his face. It appeared that the safety granted by the fear and confusion of their initial attack had come to an end.

    With a quick check back to ensure none of his mages were in danger of being hit. Quinten pulled as much wind as he could, shoving it out behind him in a long burst. The force of its passing howled in his ears as his feet left the ground, hurling him forward. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes from the sheer speed of it.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± He cried. Losing control of his casting, he dropped both his sword and the magic propelling him through the air. He landed in as tight a ball as he could manage, rolling for a dozen feet before spending the momentum he¡¯d gained.

    The telltale whistle cutting through the air alerted Quinten to the danger. He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the arrow that sank to its fletchings in the soft dirt where he¡¯d landed. He pushed himself to his feet and realized he was now well ahead of the fleeing Drakovians. The eight he¡¯d been chasing were now charging straight toward him.

    Bows were drawn, and Quinten hastily channeled his Gift through his ring, regretting the momentary loss of Astraea. The wind screen formed just in time to safely deflect the deadly projectiles away from him. Seeing the uselessness of their bows had the enemy drawing steel.

    He squat low. Driving his gloved fingers deep into the soft soil before him, sending his magic rushing forward. He¡¯d need to time this next part just right.

    Choosing a wide strip of land less than two dozen feet ahead, he drew deeply from his reserves. Quinten put to use all the practice he¡¯d received working with, and converting earth to stone. With an effort of will, a three-foot wall of dirt with the top six inches forming into spikes of slate rock burst into existence less than a dozen feet in front of the charging warriors.

    The three leading riders had no time to evade. Even if they did, their allies charging in behind them left nowhere for them to go.

    He would never forget the sound of the collision¡ªthe sharp crack of bone, the sickening crunch of stone slate spikes ripping free from the wall as they buried deep within the horses that had tried to leap over the obstruction.

    Quinten''s stomach threatened to rebel in the aftermath of his attack, but now was not the time. Four riders¡ªluckier than their brethren¡ªmanaged to clear the wall after the horse before them went down under his trap. They were less than twenty feet away, their cries of grief and fear hitting Quinten like a physical blow.

    In one of those odd moments of clarity, he recognized one of the four survivors, the older man he¡¯d taken as the war band¡¯s leader. Soot colored his hairless chin, and his previously tight braid hung disheveled and partially undone as it bounced with the movements of the man¡¯s horse.

    Quinten''s muscles relaxed, and power danced at his fingertips, ready to do his bidding.

    He met the old man¡¯s eyes a moment before the wind answered his call, feeding the flame in his palm until it erupted in a lance of fire. Its path of destruction ending his part¡ªand that of the three younger men behind him¡ªin the war to an end.