《The Dragon Knight of the Academy》


 1. Dragon of Calamity

    [Scene Loading...]


    [Location: Northern Mountains, Uninhabited Wastes]


    [Date: June 30, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]


    "Stick together, men!" Artax De''Godfrey called loudly, his voice battling against the howling winds. "Use your Aura, if you have any left! No use freezing here on the mountainside!"


    His words scattered across the grey and rocky slopes, whipped among the boulders and dead trees that clung to the harsh terrain. Ahead of him, the path wound steadily higher, vanishing among jagged crags and towering cliffs. Behind him, he could sense the flagging Auras of his men as they struggled forward. Several knights stumbled, their armor weighing them down as the bitter cold penetrated metal and leather alike.


    Artax braced against another gust, planting his feet firmly as the wind threatened to topple him. He drove his sword into the frozen ground, using it as an anchor before pressing onward.


    "Sire!" Artax''s second in command, a man by the name of Constantine De''Minziar, fought his way forward. His face was red from the cold, his breath visible in short, rapid bursts. "Sire, we have to turn back! The men are weakening!"


    "We received a report, and a credible one, that a pack of dire wolves is massing in the mountains." Artax snapped, scanning the path ahead for signs of movement. His hand never strayed far from his sword hilt. "We''re not stopping until they''re gone."


    "But sire, they aren''t going to affect the Kingdom!" Constantine pressed, grabbing Artax''s arm. "The report said that they''re threatening Cilia, the kingdom to the north of us! We''ll be fine!"


    Artax wrenched his arm free and rounded on Constantine. The knight took a half-step back at the intensity in his commander''s eyes.


    "The Kingdom of Athia has always come to the aid of our allies!" Artax''s voice cut through the wind like a blade. "Cilia came to our aid when we were invaded by the barbarian hordes not twenty years ago, and before that, they''ve fought on our side dozens of times throughout the centuries. I will not abandon their people."


    "But sire..." Constantine continued, his gloved hand gripping the hilt of his own sword. "Please! The mountain pass between Cilia and Athia is famous for how dangerous it is. In the winter it''s entirely impassable."


    "And this is the middle of the summer." Artax turned and started walking forward once more. "Come! Be of good heart!"


    He ground his teeth together as he walked off. Constantine was a good warrior, but House Minziar was a house of cowards. None of their knights who had ever served underneath him wanted to go into battle, and that was just a fact. As he walked along, noting the labored breathing of his men behind him, he sighed.


    "Activate Emblem of Valor."


    There was a small flash of light from his chest. The silver medallion embedded in his armor pulsed with energy, illuminating the surrounding snow with a blue-white glow. Heat radiated outward, melting small patches of frost around him as the Emblem''s power flowed through the group.


    [Emblem of Valor has been activated]


    [All Allies in the area have been given a 100% Stat increase]


    [All Allies in the area have been given [Resist Elements]]


    [All Allies in the area have been given [Resist Despair]]


    [...]


    The effect was immediate. Behind him, men straightened their backs as renewed energy flooded their limbs. Their breathing steadied, and the clanking of armor became more rhythmic, more determined. Artax nodded as he confirmed the effect, and continued his march forward. The path grew steeper, forcing him to dig the edges of his boots into the ground for traction.


    He had worked hard to amass his Emblems, fighting for years through Leoncrest Academy, and then working his way up the ranks of the Imperial Forces. Some people considered him to be the greatest knight in the land, but he didn''t know about that. There were several others who were almost as good, and as he had never fought against them, he couldn''t presume to-


    Movement. Ahead on the trail, a quick shadow darted between two outcroppings. Artax froze, his hand instantly finding the hilt of his sword. The metal was cold even through his gloves.


    "What was it?" Constantine called, his voice lowered to a sharp whisper.


    "I don''t know." Artax murmured, eyes narrowed as he scanned the terrain. "Maybe a troll. Maybe just a deer."


    It was a lie, of course. He had seen the briefest flutter of cloth, likely a cloak. Someone was waiting for them. The question was who.


    Artax drew his sword in a smooth motion. The blade caught what little sunlight penetrated the clouds, the silver etching of House Godfrey''s crest visible along the fuller. He took point, gesturing for his men to fan out behind him in a defensive formation.


    They pressed onward, and soon reached the crags that he had seen from below. Here, sheltered from the winds, they made slightly better time. The path continued to wind sharply upward, though Artax knew it would soon level out to cross a flat plateau for about half a mile. It was that half-mile that would be the most dangerous, due largely to the fact that it looked quite easy. What most people didn''t realize was just how powerful the winds in that region could be, funneled through the mountains at truly extraordinary speeds.


    As they approached the plateau, Artax kept his eyes moving, searching for the stranger. He was sure he had seen... There! Movement again, but further ahead. Something very strange was happening, and he didn''t have the faintest idea what it could be.


    Did that mean he was going to turn back? Not at all. He hadn''t completed the thirty-four trials just to be seen as a weakling, to turn away at the first sign of trouble. As they pressed steadily forward, he gripped his sword more firmly, its weight a reassurance.


    "Something the matter?" Constantine was at his side again, hand resting on his own weapon, eyes darting nervously from side to side.


    "Possibly." Artax kept his voice low, attention focused on the path ahead. Every instinct in his body screamed ambush. "Tread carefully. Spread the men in defense formation delta."


    Constantine turned white but nodded, moving back to relay the commands. The knights shifted positions, creating a more defensible arrangement with shields at the ready. Artax crept forward, sword held at the middle guard position.


    And then, he heard it.


    A sound that turned his blood to ice.


    Flap.


    Flap.


    Flap.


    Heavy, rhythmic, and unmistakable ¨C the beating of massive wings.


    "Dragon!" Artax bellowed, voice thundering through the pass. "Run for the plain, now!"


    He raced forward, boots pounding against the frozen stone. A dark shape shot overhead, momentarily blotting out the sky before circling back. Artax''s mind raced through calculations and possibilities. They were trapped in a narrow pass ¨C perfect for the dragon''s breath attack to decimate them all at once.


    "Move! Move!" he shouted, pushing one of his men forward as the soldier stumbled.


    Ahead of him, the opening to the plateau loomed, and he raced through it as fast as his legs would carry him.


    Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!


    A blast of cold wind hit him from behind. Artax spun, dropping to one knee as he pivoted, sword raised in a defensive posture. The dark form shot overhead once more, massive wings creating downdrafts that threatened to knock the knights off their feet.


    His men came right behind him, and an instant later, a blast of ice and snow exploded through the pass. The temperature plummeted as frost formed instantly on armor and weapons. When the icy mist cleared, one of his knights stood frozen in place, encased in a block of ice, killed instantly ¨C his face locked in a grimace of surprise.


    "Shield wall!" Artax commanded, but it was too late.


    The dragon flashed across the plain, then banked sharply, wings fully extended as it came crashing down. Four massive claws dug into the granite of the mountain''s surface, ripping deep gouges in the stone. Its scales gleamed like polished obsidian, reflecting blue-white light from the surrounding snow. It must have been two hundred feet long from nose to tail, with wings that spanned twice that length.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The creature''s eyes ¨C deep blue with slitted pupils ¨C fixed on Artax. It lowered its head, a deep growl reverberating through the ground beneath their feet, and began to advance.


    "It''s an ambush!" Constantine cried. "Run!"


    "No!" Artax snapped, stepping forward. "Try to run, and it''ll kill you in an instant. The only way out is through."


    "We can''t kill that thing!" Constantine''s voice verged on panic. Several knights took steps backward, their resolve crumbling.


    "Speak for yourself." Artax raised his sword, the blade catching the light. He grabbed his shield off his back ¨C a heavy kite shield bearing the house crest of House Godfrey, a silver sword set against swirling stormclouds. "Form them up in a defensive position. I''ll have a go at the beast."


    Before Constantine could object, Artax charged across the plain. The dragon''s maw opened in what could only be described as laughter ¨C a deep, rumbling sound that echoed off the surrounding mountains.


    The wind raged against him, threatening to knock him off his feet with each step. Along with it came bone-chilling cold that cut through his armor, numbing his skin where it touched metal. Artax focused inward, channeling his Aura.


    "Activate Emblem of Heat."


    A red glow emanated from a second medallion on his chest plate. Warmth spread through his body, pushing back the numbing cold and allowing him to maintain his speed. The dragon raised itself up, rearing to its full height before slamming its head down. Its jaws opened wide, and a blast of freezing breath swept across the plain.


    An ice dragon. One of the most dangerous varieties.


    Artax raised his shield and braced himself, feet planted firmly. He channeled his Aura into the shield, creating a faint blue barrier over its surface. The blast of ice hit him like a battering ram, the force of it pushing him back several feet, his boots carving furrows in the stone. Ice formed around the edges of his shield, but the Aura barrier held.


    When the blast subsided, Artax charged at the monster once again, shifting his Aura into his legs to increase his speed. The dragon''s eyes widened slightly in surprise.


    "Alright, beast." He snapped, closing the distance between them. "Time to show you what a real knight of the realm is worth."


    The dragon snarled, its head darting forward like a striking snake. Jaws wide enough to swallow a man whole snapped at Artax. He dove to the side, rolling across the frozen ground before springing back to his feet in a single fluid motion.


    He channeled his Aura into his sword, causing the blade to glow with bright blue energy. The dragon struck again, and this time Artax stood his ground. He swung the sword with all his might, timing his strike perfectly.


    The Aura-enhanced blade connected with the dragon''s jaw, and there was a mighty blast of light and energy. The dragon''s head jerked sideways from the impact, and a roar of pain and surprise erupted from its throat.


    Rargh!


    The beast stumbled backward, one claw raised to its wounded jaw. Seizing the advantage, Artax rushed forward. He channeled his Aura into his legs, muscles tensing as he launched himself upward in a leap that no ordinary man could achieve. He sailed over one of the dragon''s massive claws and brought his sword down on the creature''s right wing joint.


    The blow didn''t penetrate as deeply as he''d hoped, but the Aura-enhanced strike still cut through several layers of scales. The dragon roared in pain and outrage, its wing folding awkwardly. Artax landed on the thing''s back, boots finding purchase between the large, plate-like scales.


    He raised his sword high, the blade pulsing with energy.


    "Activate Emblem of Strength!"


    A golden light joined the blue Aura around his sword. The combined energies created a swirling vortex of power that extended the effective length of the blade. With a battle cry, Artax drove the sword downward with all his might.


    Scales cracked and burst under the blow as the sword penetrated deep into the dragon''s flesh. Thick, black blood poured from the wound, steaming as it hit the cold air. The dragon screeched in agony, its entire body convulsing.


    Artax lost his balance as the creature bucked and thrashed. He was thrown from the monster''s back, tumbling through the air before hitting the ground hard. He rolled several times across the frozen terrain, his armor scraping against stone. Pain shot through his left shoulder as he came to a stop.


    Quickly, he climbed back to his feet, ignoring the pain. His sword remained lodged in the dragon''s back. Unarmed now, he reached for the short blade at his waist as the dragon turned toward him, rage in its eyes.


    [You have wounded Socrax, Frost Dragon of the North]


    Artax''s eyes snapped open wide as the notification registered in his mind. This was Socrax? One of the eight legendary Dragons of Calamity? Encountering one was rare, but when they were encountered... Well... All eight had been known since the first age, and not a single one had been defeated yet.


    Perhaps that would all change today.


    "Constantine!" Artax called out, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "Get these men out of here! Organized retreat, not a rout! Just get them out of here!"


    His words were, once again, snatched away by the wind. Socrax seemed to sense his concern though, and started plodding toward his men, tail lashing behind it, gouging deep furrows in the stone.


    Artax set his jaw, and drew himself up straight.


    "You''ve already killed one of my men!" He roared, voice competing with the wind. "You''re not getting the rest of them!"


    He flew at Socrax, feet pounding on the granite. The dragon was fast, but Artax poured his Aura into his legs, pushing himself beyond normal human limits. His muscles burned with the effort, but he moved just a fraction faster than the beast expected.


    The dragon caught sight of him and turned, but too late. Artax leapt into the air, propelled by Aura-enhanced strength. His short blade gleamed as he aimed for the creature''s neck.


    "Ahhh!"


    He collided with the beast''s neck, and drove his blade into the flesh with every ounce of his strength. The sword struck deeply, carving into the monster''s jugular. Thick black blood poured from the wound, steaming as it hit the cold air and painting the white snow with dark rivulets.


    Artax landed and stepped back, gasping for breath. His Aura reserves were dangerously low ¨C he could feel the telltale emptiness growing within him.


    "You have exhausted your Aura, little one!" The dragon roared, its voice deep and resonant like an avalanche. Black blood continued to flow from its wounds, but still it stood.


    Great. So it could talk.


    "I''m still standing here." Artax snapped, raising his remaining weapon ¨C a small dagger from his boot. "Try me."


    The dragon lunged forward, its massive head driving toward him like a battering ram. Artax snarled and raised his shield. He channeled the last remnants of his Aura into it, and as the dragon crashed into him ¨C countless tons of muscle and scale ¨C there was a blinding flash of light.


    The dragon staggered from the impact, momentarily stunned. Artax was knocked clean off his feet, sent tumbling across the plateau until he slammed into a boulder. Pain exploded through his back and ribs. He staggered to his feet, wincing as sharp pain shot through his torso with each breath. Broken ribs, definitely.


    Socrax raised a massive claw and brought it crashing down toward Artax. Quickly, the knight flipped his short blade upright, planting the hilt of it on the frozen ground and bracing it with both hands.


    There was a mighty crash as the dragon impaled its own foot on the sword. Artax rolled away at the last second, narrowly avoiding being crushed. The dragon stumbled backward, roaring in pain and fury.


    Artax leapt back to his feet, reaching for another weapon, but found nothing. His sword was broken ¨C the immense force of the dragon''s weight had shattered it, leaving him with just a foot of jagged steel.


    He gaped at the broken blade, then slowly looked up at the beast.


    Socrax seemed to laugh, a rumbling sound that shook loose snow from nearby cliffs. The dragon slowly lowered its wounded paw, black blood dripping onto the white snow. This wasn''t going to take much longer, and they both knew it.


    "Sire!" Constantine appeared at his side, shield raised. "What are your orders?"


    At that moment, the dragon spread its wings and rose up into the air, climbing higher and higher into the sky despite its injuries. It circled once, then twice, gaining altitude with each pass.


    "Get them to cover." Artax snapped, scanning the battlefield. His men were scattered, many injured, some still fighting to stand. "No. No, it''s too late for that. Brace for impact!"


    The dragon came roaring back down, tucking its wings in a dive that increased its speed exponentially. Artax braced himself, gritted his teeth, and raised his shield above his head with his good arm.


    "Activate Emblem, Shield of Glory!"


    The final Emblem on his chest activated with a brilliant flash. Golden light erupted from his shield, expanding outward in a dome that encompassed all his men. The barrier shimmered like a second sky above them.


    Socrax struck an instant later, its full weight and momentum crashing against the golden shield. The impact sent shockwaves across the plateau, cracking the stone beneath their feet. The dragon bounced off, tumbling through the air to crash against the cliffs.


    Inside the dome, Artax screamed as the feedback from the shield tore through his body. He felt several more bones snap under the strain, and blood began to trickle from his nose and ears. The golden light flickered, threatening to fail.


    With every ounce of strength that he had left, Artax raced toward the stunned frost dragon. His vision blurred, blood now flowing freely down his face. Magic leaked from his wounds, spraying across the frost and snow in bright blue droplets.


    The dragon slowly rose, shaking its massive head to clear it. It fixed its eyes on Artax, and actually laughed.


    "You could have killed me. You chose to save your-"


    "Ahhhh!" Artax roared, spinning and throwing the broken hilt of his sword with all his might. He channeled the last dregs of his Aura into the weapon, transforming the jagged metal into a brilliant shaft of light.


    The makeshift projectile streaked upward, its trajectory true. It slammed into the monster''s right eye with a wet crunch. Socrax roared in agony, rearing back as the light from the Aura-infused metal seared the sensitive tissue.


    "Leave! Now!" Artax bellowed, his legs nearly giving out beneath him.


    The dragon slowly rose and tried to fly, but its wounded wing made proper flight impossible. It stumbled and crashed again into the cliff wall, sending boulders tumbling down. Desperately, it crawled along the mountain slope, its massive claws digging deep furrows in the stone and snow.


    Artax watched it go, one arm clutched around his broken ribs, the other hanging uselessly at his side. He saw the dragon disappear among the higher peaks, and only then did he allow himself to sway. He collapsed to his knees, then fell forward onto the frozen ground.


    "Artax!" Constantine ran to him, dropping to his knees beside his commander. "Are you okay?"


    "No." Artax coughed, his mouth filling with the metallic taste of blood. He spat onto the snow, leaving a crimson stain. "That sword... Was..." He sighed, gathering what little strength he had left. "That was fine steel from House Arnette. It was a graduation gift. I''m going to be in so much trouble."


    Constantine laughed, though it was humorless, and he shook his head.


    "Well, we''ll get you off this place and back to the Capital. You''ll be able to heal, there."


    "No." Artax murmured, his voice growing weaker. "Not the capital. I''ll never be a warrior again. My Aura is broken."


    Constantine inhaled sharply. For someone to break an Aura... It was a terrible thing. A wounded Aura could heal. A broken Aura was forever useless.


    "Take me home." Artax let his eyes close, trying to tune out the howling of the wind and the broken landscape around him. "Take me back to the Godfrey Estate."


    He felt strong arms carefully lifting him. He was too weak to walk, and he knew that he would soon lapse into unconsciousness. The cold was seeping into his bones now, his Emblems inactive without Aura to power them.


    As he was borne away, though, he wasn''t concerned about his own health. He would survive, if in a somewhat diminished capacity. What might not survive was House Godfrey. On the decline for the better part of a century, it was one of the weakest noble houses now, and with him gone, who would take up the reins? There was only one person who could...


    And Artax didn''t have the faintest idea if he would be up to the task.


    [Scene Close]


    [Active Quests:]


    [Return Home - Return to House Godfrey Estate]


    [Pep Talk - Speak to Zeke about the future of House Godfrey]

 2. The Second Son

    <b>[Scene Loading...]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Godfrey Estate - Godfrey Palace]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: July 15, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    "Cannonball!"


    Zeke ran down the old wooden dock and jumped high into the air.


    He tucked his knees tight against his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and grinned as he fell toward the lake. The splash was impressive, sending water shooting up several feet and scaring a pair of ducks that had been floating nearby.


    He stayed underwater for a moment, feeling the coolness surround him. This lake had been his refuge since childhood. Where Artax had first taught him to swim.


    His place when everyone else was busy with "important things," Zeke would slip away to swim.


    He pushed deeper, looking for treasures on the lake bottom before his lungs started burning.


    With a strong kick, he shot back to the surface.


    Zeke shook the water from his hair and looked toward the shore where Madeline was watching. She wore a simple green dress that matched the surrounding trees, and she was laughing at his display.


    "That was quite a splash!" she called, clapping her hands. "Though I think you scared half the wildlife in the area."


    "That''s the point!" Zeke replied, treading water. "Come on in! The water''s perfect today."


    "In my dress? I don''t think so." Madeline gathered her skirts a bit higher from the damp grass. "Besides, I can''t swim."


    "You can''t swim?" Zeke was genuinely surprised. "But you''ve lived near the river your whole life."


    "My father forbade it after my cousin nearly drowned when we were children," she explained with a shrug. "Not everyone has a private lake to practice in."


    "Well, that''s something we need to fix," Zeke said. "Everyone should know how to swim."


    "Not today, Lord Zeke," Madeline replied with a teasing smile.


    "I''m not a lord," he corrected automatically. "Just the second son. Artax is the heir, the future lord and I wish him well with all that responsibility."


    Madeline''s expression softened, but before she could respond, Zeke ducked underwater again. He swam toward the deeper part of the lake, where he knew something that might impress her.


    Zeke had discovered years ago that certain spots in the lake had freshwater clams.


    Most were empty, but sometimes you could find pearls inside them. As he got older and started bringing more girls from the village to the lake, he''d made an arrangement with  the village jeweler. For a small fee,  would provide him with pearls that Zeke could "discover" in clams he''d prepared ahead of time.


    But for Madeline, he wanted to find a real one.


    He scanned the muddy bottom, fingers working through the silt with practiced ease. His lungs started to burn again, but just before he had to surface, his hand closed around what he was looking for. He grabbed the clam and kicked up, breaking through the water with a gasp.


    Swimming back to shore, he saw Madeline watching him with concern.


    "What happened? You were under for so long," she said as he waded out of the water.


    "I was looking for something," Zeke replied, water dripping from his clothes. He hadn''t bothered taking them off before jumping in, which would definitely annoy Sampson later. The thought made him smile.


    "What did you find?" Madeline asked, curiosity replacing concern.


    Zeke held out his hand, showing her the mud-covered clam. "A gift from Lake Godfrey."


    "A... dirty shell?" She looked unimpressed.


    "Not the shell," Zeke laughed. "What might be inside."


    Understanding dawned on her face. "A pearl? Really?"


    "Let''s find out," he said, kneeling by the water to clean off the mud.


    Once the shell was clean, he started working at the opening, applying pressure in just the right spot.


    "Won''t that kill it?" Madeline asked, kneeling beside him despite the risk to her dress.


    The question surprised him. Most visitors never worried about a clam''s fate. "Not if we''re careful," he said, though he wasn''t entirely sure. "We can put it back afterward."


    She nodded and leaned closer to watch. Her shoulder touched his, and despite his wet clothes, he felt a warmth spread through him.


    "Here," he said, his voice a little rough. "You try."


    He guided her hands to the shell, showing her where to press. Her fingers were warm against his, strong yet gentle from years of working in her father''s bakery.


    "Gentle but firm," he instructed. "Like this."


    Together they worked at the shell until, with a satisfying pop, it opened. Madeline let out a small gasp.


    "There''s really one in there!"


    In the center of the clam lay a small, slightly uneven pearl. Unlike the perfect ones Zeke sometimes bought from the jeweler, this one was natural, a bit odd shaped and with an uneven surface. It wasn''t large, but it had character.


    "It''s beautiful," Madeline said softly, touching it with a fingertip.


    "It''s yours," Zeke said, carefully taking the pearl and placing it in her palm. "A real treasure from the lake."


    Her eyes met his, searching. "Real? You swear it?"


    Zeke felt his face grow warm. Did she know about his pearl tricks? Did the village girls talk about him?


    "I swear it," he said firmly. "I didn''t know for sure there would be one. It was luck."


    She studied him for a moment, then closed her fingers around the pearl. "Thank you, Zeke. I''ll keep it safe."


    He gently returned the clam to the water. "May you make many more," he said to the sinking shell.


    "Do you do this often?" Madeline asked as they walked away from the shore. "Find pearls to impress girls from the village?"


    Zeke nearly tripped over a root. "What makes you think¡ª"


    "Brigid showed me hers last month," Madeline said with a knowing smile. "Perfect and round as a dewdrop, she said. Amazing how you found it ''just by chance'' that day."


    Caught, Zeke sighed dramatically and pressed a hand to his chest. "You wound me deeply. Are you saying I''m not the luckiest pearl-finder in all the kingdoms?"


    "I''m saying," she replied, tucking her pearl into a small pocket in her dress, "that this one means more because it wasn''t planned."


    Before Zeke could respond, a servant appeared with a picnic basket. Zeke nodded to him, pointing to a clearing under a large oak tree. The servant went to set up their meal while Zeke guided Madeline that way.


    "You planned this," she said, though she sounded pleased.


    "I had hopes," he admitted. "Though I didn''t expect to be exposed as a fake pearl-hunter."


    The servant had spread a blanket under the tree and placed the basket in the center before quietly leaving. Zeke helped Madeline sit down, suddenly aware of how wet his clothes still were.


    "Should you change?" she asked, noticing his dripping shirt and pants. "You''ll catch cold."


    "And miss a minute with you? Never," Zeke said, though he did wring out his sleeves. "Besides, it gives Sampson something new to lecture me about, and he loves his lectures."


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    Zeke opened the basket with exaggerated flair. "Let''s see what we have today." He pulled out a wrapped bottle. "Wine from the palace cellars. Year 437 of the Fourth Age."


    "A special vintage?" Madeline asked with a hint of skepticism.


    Zeke paused, remembering that someone in her family worked with the village winemaker. Instead of his usual exaggeration, he examined the bottle honestly.


    "Actually, it''s pretty ordinary," he admitted. "But good company makes even simple wine taste better, don''t you think?"


    Her smile grew at his honesty. "I think you''re right."


    He uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses, then raised his in a toast. "To real treasures and unexpected finds."


    "To second sons who occasionally tell the truth," she countered, tapping her glass against his.


    The wine was as ordinary as he admitted, a bit tart with hints of berries, but Zeke didn''t mind. They ate the cheese, fruit, and bread from the basket while talking easily. Madeline told him about her father''s bakery, the early mornings, and the satisfaction of creating something people needed. Zeke shared stories about growing up in the palace, carefully avoiding topics like his father or his brother''s achievements.


    They were comfortably silent when a sharp crack came from the nearby trees. Zeke turned quickly toward the sound.


    "What was that?" Madeline asked, setting down her wine.


    Zeke stood up, scanning the forest edge. The estate had walls around it, but parts had crumbled over the years. Wild animals sometimes got in¡ªusually harmless ones, but occasionally something dangerous.


    "Stay here," he said, taking a step toward the trees.


    Before he could investigate, a large wild turkey strutted out from the bushes. Its tail feathers were spread wide in an impressive fan, and several smaller turkeys followed behind it.


    "Oh!" Madeline relaxed and smiled. "Look at him, he''s like a king with his court!"


    "Or Queen," Zeke agreed, watching the bird''s confident walk.


    Something about the turkey''s commanding presence bothered him. The way the other birds followed it, the unquestioned authority¡ªit reminded him too much of Artax. His brother moved through the world with that same confidence, commanding respect without even trying. Even the servants always looked to Artax first.


    His brother was, for all things, a hero.


    "He''s magnificent," Madeline said, not noticing Zeke''s darkening mood. "We rarely see them so close to the village."


    "They''re smart birds," Zeke said, trying to sound casual. "Too smart to go where they might end up on a dinner table."


    The turkeys moved on, disappearing into the trees as quietly as they''d appeared. Zeke and Madeline returned to their picnic, but the easy feeling was gone, at least for Zeke. As Madeline ate a peach, she watched him carefully.


    "Tell me about your brother," she said. "The stories in the village make him sound like a legend."


    Zeke held back a grimace. Even here, Artax''s shadow found him. "What do you want to know?"


    "Is it true he killed the Beast of Many-Fangs with just a wooden training sword?"


    "It was a real sword," Zeke corrected, "and the ''beast'' was just a large boar that was causing trouble in the southern villages." He picked at a loose thread on the blanket. "Still impressive, since he was only fifteen."


    "And did he really save Duke Thalridge''s daughter from bandits while disguised as a regular traveler?"


    "That one''s mostly true," Zeke admitted. "Though the ''bandits'' were former soldiers, and he had two squires with him, not that anyone remembers their names."


    Madeline tilted her head. "You don''t like these stories."


    It wasn''t a question, and Zeke didn''t treat it as one. Instead, he leaned back against the tree trunk, looking up at the branches above. "Did you know there''s a statue of Artax in the main square in the capital? They made it when he was twenty-three, after he finished the 34 Trials faster than anyone before him. He stands twelve feet tall in bronze, next to statues of heroes twice his age."


    "And there isn''t one of you," Madeline said quietly.


    "Why would there be?" Zeke shrugged. "What have I done worth making a statue of? I''m good at swimming, but I doubt that''s enough for the royal sculptors."


    "Not everyone needs to be a hero," she said simply.


    "Absolutely, I''m content to drink my families wine with good company"  Zeke took a breath, forcing his usual carefree smile. "But enough about my famous brother. Would you like to see something special? The statue garden is beautiful this time of year."


    Madeline clearly saw through his attempt to change the subject, but she nodded anyway. "I''d like that."


    They packed up the picnic, and Zeke led her toward the palace. The huge stone building stood at the center of the estate, surrounded by gardens that had once been the pride of the kingdom. Now, like most of the estate, they showed signs of neglect, still beautiful, but clearly fading.


    They walked through a rusty gate into a flower garden full of blooms in every color. Ivy covered the walls, and bees moved busily among the flowers. Zeke picked a striking red and black flower, rare outside the royal gardens, and gave it to Madeline with an exaggerated bow.


    "My lady," he said in his best court voice.


    She took the flower with an equally theatrical curtsy. "My lord is too kind."


    He guided her toward another archway almost hidden by hanging vines.


    They came out into the statue garden, and Madeline stopped in her tracks, clearly amazed.


    Dozens of marble and stone figures filled the large space, knights in battle poses, nobles standing formally, mythical creatures frozen in motion.


    Many showed signs of age: a warrior missing an arm, a horse without a leg, and several so covered in moss and vines that you could barely tell what they were supposed to be. Still, the overall effect was impressive.


    In the center was a small fountain fed by the same stream that supplied the lake. Its basin had cracks, letting small streams of water escape, but it still worked, with water spraying up from the stone fish at its center.


    Zeke sat on the edge of the fountain, running his fingers through the water. "What do you think?"


    "It''s amazing," Madeline said, walking slowly around a stone griffin. "Like stepping into an old story."


    "Or ruins," Zeke added, watching her.


    "Not ruins, history," she corrected, stopping at a statue of a knight with a raised sword. "Each one has a story. What was this place like when these were new?"


    Zeke shrugged, leaning back against the fountain. His tutors had tried to teach him House Godfrey''s history, but he''d usually been planning ways to escape to the lake instead of listening.


    "The basics are simple," he said, watching her trace the stone shield with her fingers. "A hundred years ago, during the barbarian wars, House Godfrey sent all their sons to battle. Only one came back alive."


    "Just one?" Madeline''s hand stopped moving.


    "My great-grandfather," Zeke nodded. "And every Godfrey daughter had been married off to make alliances with other houses. Our family network fell apart."


    "You lost all the aunts, uncles, and cousins that make up a noble house," Madeline said, showing a surprising understanding of how noble families worked.


    "Exactly," he said, making patterns in the fountain water with his finger. "The surviving branches grew distant from the main line, and House Godfrey started its slow decline." He gestured at the crumbling statues around them. "My great-grandfather married a commoner, a choice many called cursed when she died after having just one son. My grandfather had only two children before his wife had a riding accident.


    He paused. "And my mother died right after I was born."


    "The curse of House Godfrey," Madeline said softly. "I''ve heard traders talk about it in the village." She hesitated. "And the 34 Trials? They say no Godfrey had completed them since the curse began."


    "Until Artax," Zeke confirmed, standing up and moving to a moss-covered statue. He brushed away some of the green, revealing a stern face he couldn''t name. "Artax, slayer of beasts, savior of maidens, and all-around perfect knight."


    "You admire him?" She asked.


    Zeke nodded. "Yes."


    "Will you try the Trials?" she asked quietly.


    Zeke laughed, though something inside him stirred at the question. "Not likely. My path was decided when I was born."


    He spread his arms wide. "Artax becomes the head of the family, defender of the realm, restorer of Godfrey glory. I marry well and have lots of children, as many as possible, to keep the family line going. Not a bad life, really."


    As soon as he said it, he knew he''d made a mistake.


    Madeline went still, her expression cooling.


    "I see," she said carefully. "So a baker''s daughter wouldn''t count as ''marrying well.''"


    Zeke stepped toward her, suddenly panicked. "Madeline, that''s not, I mean, my great-grandfather married a commoner, things are different now, but!"


    She shook her head, cutting him off. "I should get back to the village before dark."


    "Please," he said, reaching for her hand. "I didn''t mean, I''m sorry."


    "Didn''t you?" She pulled her hand away, though she seemed more resigned than angry. "I''m not offended, Zeke. We both knew what this was. A nice afternoon. A pretty pearl. A memory."


    She started walking toward the garden exit, and Zeke felt the moment slipping away. "Madeline, wait!"


    "Strike out again, young master?"


    Zeke turned to find Sampson stepping out from behind some vines, the old steward looking somewhere between disapproving and amused.


    "Are you spying on me now?" Zeke responded with a groan.


    "Just making sure the young master doesn''t get into situations requiring, careful handling," Sampson replied, brushing leaves from his perfect uniform.


    He glanced toward Madeline''s retreating figure. "Shall I escort the young lady back to the village?"


    "No," Zeke snapped. "She doesn''t need an escort, and I don''t need a keeper."


    "Evidence suggests otherwise," Sampson said dryly. "Your reputation in the village grows with each girl you disappoint. The estate''s position is already fragile, complications would be unwise."


    "We''re already dying out," Zeke said, gesturing at the crumbling statues around them. "Might as well enjoy the ride down."


    "That is not for you to decide," Sampson replied, his tone firmer than usual. "Your brother returns tonight. Perhaps you should prepare yourself rather than chasing village girls."


    Zeke felt like he''d been dunked back in the cold lake. "Artax is coming home? Today? Why didn''t anyone tell me?"


    "I''m telling you now," Sampson said simply. "Meet me on the western wall one hour after sunset. You''ll have the best view of his approach from there."


    He paused, looking Zeke up and down. "Unless you''d prefer to greet him soaking wet and smelling of lake water?"


    "No, I don''t, I''ll get ready." Zeke replied


    Sampson nodded and left the way he''d come, disappearing behind the vines.


    Alone in the statue garden, surrounded by the worn remains of Godfrey glory, Zeke felt suddenly empty.


    He walked to the tallest statue, a knight on horseback with sword raised high, and looked up at the worn face.


    Time had erased the details, leaving only a suggestion of features. Was this how people would remember House Godfrey? Faceless figures slowly crumbling away?


    Or would Artax''s legend save them all, his brightness pulling their house out of its decline.


    Zeke turned away, walking through the palace grounds with no real destination in mind. He thought about Madeline, about the real pearl in her pocket, about the moment between them.


    Maybe that was his true talent, not swimming or finding pearls, but ruining the moment.


    ******


    That evening, just before dusk, he found himself back at the lake.


    On the small island with its old, broken gazebo, a bird stood watching, white against the growing darkness.


    Zeke sat down at the edge of the dock, feet dangling in the cool water. Soon, Artax would ride through the gates, no doubt returning from some heroic mission that would add to his legend.


    The palace would be full of excitement, the servants would rush around, and Father would come out of his study to welcome home his firstborn son.


    And Zeke? He would stand in the background.


    A flickering light caught his attention, not stars, but torches, coming up from the village road toward the estate. Banners fluttered from poles, though it was too dark and far away to see what was on them.


    Only knights traveled like that at this hour¡ªand House Godfrey had only one knight worth such an escort.


    Artax was coming home.


    Zeke stood up slowly, drying his feet on the dock before putting his boots back on. It was time to put on the mask he wore so well¡ªthe carefree second son, without ambition or jealousy, content to live in his brother''s shadow.


    After all, what was one more performance in a lifetime of playing a part he never chose?


    <b>[Scene Close]


    </b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    </b>


    <b>[What Kills the Cat - Check out the disturbance]</b>

 3. The Ice Dragons Price

    <b>[Scene Loading¡­]</b>


    <b>[Location: Godfrey Estate - Godfrey Palace]</b>


    <b>[Date: July 15, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    Zeke run through the stairwells and halls of the estate, down past dusty paintings and walls that were overgrown with vines.


    When he raced out into the main entry hall, he found his father, Agrian Godfrey, standing tall. The old man was huge, and had a white beard that puffed out and fell down to the middle of his chest. He was a scholar, though he was built like a warrior. Guards clustered around him, and Zeke came running up to him.


    "Stay back," Agrian''s voice was tense, his eyes fixed on the main doors. He turned and recognized Zeke, his expression grave. "Something''s happened to the expedition."


    "Artax?" Zeke asked, his chest tightening.


    "They''ve returned two weeks early," his father replied, the worry in his voice unmistakable. "The scouts report they''re carrying wounded. You don''t need to see this."


    "Let him stay my lord." Sampson walked into the room, folding his hands behind his back. "He should be here."


    Agrian nodded, his focus returning to the doors. "Prepare yourself."


    Zeke stepped back, standing beside his father as the massive oak doors swung open. An exhausted war party staggered in, their armor scorched and crusted with frost. Six knights carried a stretcher between them, moving with the careful precision of men bearing something precious and fragile.


    They lowered the stretcher to the floor before Agrian. The House patriarch rushed forward with an anguished cry that sent ice through Zeke''s veins.


    "My boy!"


    Lying there, his face pale as midwinter snow, was Artax. His legendary armor, a pride of House Godfrey , was shattered across the chest, the metal warped as though crushed by an immense force.


    His eyes were slightly open, unfocused, and his skin had a bluish tint that Zeke had only seen on corpses.


    Agrian took Artax''s hand and recoiled. "He''s cold."


    "We encountered something on the pass to Cilia," said a knight, stepping forward. Zeke recognized Constantine, his brother''s second-in-command. The man''s face was haggard, with a fresh scar running from temple to jaw. "Something I thought existed only in old stories."


    "Speak plainly," Agrian demanded.


    Constantine swallowed hard. "A dragon, my lord. Not a lesser drake or wyvern that rangers occasionally hunt in the borderlands. A true dragon, an ancient ice wyrm from the Northern Wastes. The kind not seen in three centuries."


    A murmur of disbelief rippled through the guards. Even Agrian''s face showed shock.


    "We need to get him to the infirmary," Agrian cut him off. "Now!"


    They quickly rose and rushed him off, and Agrian stood up and put his head in his hands. He groaned and slowly leaned against a wall, the weight of what was happening clearly visible in his posture.


    He glanced at Zeke, his eyes with a deep, terrible worry, before he turned to follow Artax''s party.


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    The rest of that night was spent in silent vigil. Zeke waited outside the infirmary as healing mages worked to save his brother.


    Agrian paced the halls, entering and leaving the room, dispatching messengers to the capital. Half a dozen messengers arrived at the castle throughout the night, bringing scrolls that made his father''s expression grow increasingly grim.


    At some point, the butler appeared.


    "Here," Sampson pressed a small vial into Agrian''s hand. "For your nerves, my lord."


    Agrian downed the contents without question, and Zeke caught Sampson''s subtle wink as he slipped past them into the infirmary.


    Zeke remained outside of it all, until, finally, as morning came, a nurse emerged from the infirmary.


    ¡°He¡¯s awake.¡± She announced. ¡°He¡¯s very weak, but he¡¯s awake.¡± She


    glanced at Zeke, who suddenly felt a great weight upon him. ¡°If you have


    anything to say to him, you should say it now, before he falls asleep again.¡±


    ¡°My father will want to speak to him, first.¡± Zeke answered, his


    mouth dry.


    ¡°The Lord of the Castle is asleep.¡± Sampson spoke up. He had been


    standing nearby, and shrugged. ¡°And I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll wake for some time.


    That¡¯s what comes from being so worried that you forget to have your butler


    take a sip of your wine before you do. Terribly easy way to ingest sleeping


    powder.¡±


    Zeke almost laughed, and he nodded in thanks to the butler and


    quickly slipped into the infirmary.


    There, a few long rows of beds stood at the


    ready, most of which were empty. A few servants had stabbed themselves with


    pitchforks and that sort of thing, and at the far end, a section had been


    curtained off. Zeke quickly rushed forward and pushed aside the curtains, and


    there, he found Artax lying there, a weak smile upon his face.


    ¡°Artax!¡±


    ¡°Zeke!¡± Artax smiled and wearily lifted a hand. Zeke clasped his


    brother¡¯s hand, and Artax squeezed it weakly before letting it drop again.


    ¡°Having fun at the castle?¡±


    ¡°Not as much as you¡¯ve been having on the road.¡± Zeke sighed.


    ¡°What happened to you?¡±


    "Lost a fight." Artax shrugged. He glanced at the nurse, who


    bowed her head and slipped out. The curtain was closed, and he opened his mouth


    again.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Zeke held up a finger, then turned. ¡°Sampson?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± Sampson poked his head through the curtain.


    ¡°Give us a moment."


    Sampson bowed his head and withdrew, and Zeke turned eagerly back


    to Artax. His brother¡¯s eyes closed slightly, but he forced them open again.


    ¡°Big fight. I ran into, ¡± Artax coughed, then leaned forward as best he


    could. ¡°Socrax, Ice Dragon of the North.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Zeke¡¯s jaw dropped.


    ¡°I¡¯ll admit, I never thought I''d run into a dragon, much less get to fight one.¡± Artax¡¯s jaw shifted back and forth. ¡°It


    was real, though. Just about killed us all.¡±


    ¡°But you injured it right?¡± Zeke demanded. ¡°That¡¯s what that one


    soldier said.¡±


    ¡°Constantine. That his name, and I might have been able to kill the thing if it was me, alone.¡± Artax  sighed. ¡°But I


    needed to save my men, so I did. I fear I''ve doomed us all and our house."


    ¡°Why would it?¡± Zeke asked. ¡°I mean,  It¡¯s not like you died, or


    anything. You¡¯re still alive, and I¡¯m still alive. Now, we can both marry, and


    the estate can grow, and-¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how it¡¯s going to work.¡± Artax closed his eyes. ¡°It


    would take too long to explain, Zeke. You¡¯ve never been involved in the day to


    day.. You haven¡¯t seen Leoncrest, you haven¡¯t been to the


    Senate. It¡¯s a horrid world out there, and it¡¯s just getting worse.¡± He paused,


    then looked up at Zeke. There seemed to be something flickering behind Artax¡¯s


    eyes, but whatever it was, his older brother suppressed it. ¡°Our house may very


    well fall with us.¡±


    ¡°Still.¡± Zeke shrugged. ¡°Better to have saved those people, and


    not sacrificed your men.¡±


    ¡°I think so, too.¡± Artax groaned and closed his eyes. ¡°I''m tired.¡±


    A moment later, he was asleep, and Zeke sighed and slowly walked


    out of the curtained area. One of the nurses swept past him, and he reached out


    and flagged her down.


    "Will he be ok?" Zeke asked.


    The woman looked up, her eyes ancient despite her youthful appearance.


    "His body will mend," she said carefully. "But what made your brother special, his extraordinary aura, that is gone. Shattered."


    "And without it?"


    "Without it, he is merely a man," she said. "A brave one, certainly, but no longer the champion of the Kingdom, much less the house."


    Zeke nodded slowly.


    Everything was about to change, for his brother, for House Godfrey, and for the kingdom itself.


    And perhaps, for him as well.


    "Thank you," he said quietly. "Please, let him rest."


    Suddenly his concerns about missed moments with a pearl and a lake seemed much smaller.


    The second son might be needed after all.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>


    [Active Quests:]</b>


    <b>


    [What Kills the Cat - Check out the disturbance]</b>


    <b>


    [Shattered Champion - Discover what Artax meant about the house falling]</b>

 4. Legacy

    <b>[Scene Loading...]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Godfrey Estate - Godfrey Palace]


    </b>


    <b>[Date: July 22, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    The next several days were spent in chaos and confusion. Messengers streamed back and forth, sometimes as many as three or four an hour. Zeke could hear his father yelling and cursing from within his office, and more than once, he heard the clatter of something being thrown against the wall. The moment that Artax was back on his feet, he was summoned into the room, and didn''t leave for some time.


    When he came out, his face was ashen white, and he had to be helped to his room to recover.


    What could possibly be so bad that it would make Artax look like that?


    Zeke found himself back in the statuary almost a week after his brother returned home. He held a small sword in his hands, little more than a training weapon, something that he had been given as a present when he was quite young. Now, he held it up, looking at the great warrior whose sword had crumbled.


    "You look like you''ve seen better days," Zeke murmured. "Both you and my brother."


    The warrior didn''t answer, its stone face impassive as always.


    Zeke closed his eyes and focused deep within himself, searching for that spark he''d felt before.


    The aura that flows through the Godfrey bloodline... it has to be in me too.


    He felt it then, a tiny flicker of energy. He concentrated, feeling it grow warmer, spreading through his arms.


    Just like Artax showed me when we were kids...


    He gave a practice swing, then a second one, his blade cutting through the air with a soft whoosh. The energy was building now, a strange pressure beneath his skin. He gritted his teeth and channeled it into his sword as he swung sideways.


    ZZAT!


    A blast of vibrant blue energy exploded between his palms and the hilt of the sword. The weapon rocketed from his grip as if shot from a bow, spinning wildly through the air before clattering across the stone garden floor. The backlash sent Zeke stumbling backward, a searing pain shooting through his hands.


    "ARGH!" He yelped and plunged his hands into the fountain. The cool water hissed against his skin.


    When he pulled them out, angry red burn marks crisscrossed his palms.


    "You''re doing too much."


    Artax''s called out to him, and Zeke turned to find his brother slowly approaching, pushing through one of the curtains of vines. He moved with none of his usual grace and instead limped carefully.


    "I''m what?" Zeke asked, still wincing at the pain in his hands.


    "Until you learn to control your aura, you shouldn''t try to channel it into a weapon," Artax said, his eyes moving to the sword lying several yards away. "Just send it into your arms and hands, strengthening the blow. You only want to add it to a weapon once you''ve learned a lot more control."


    "Easy for you to say," Zeke sighed and sat down on the edge of the fountain.


    Artax sat down just next to him, and leaned back, a flash of pain crossing his features as he did.


    He''s still hurting. Whatever that dragon did to him, he''s hiding how bad it really is.


    "Do you remember when we used to come here as boys, and practice swordplay?" Artax smiled while pretending to not hold his ribs.


    "Yeah, I do." Zeke turned to him. "As I recall, you were twelve, and had been training for your whole life on how to use your aura. You could walk circles around me, since I was only six, and didn''t know my aura from an emblem. You''d beat me up, and then tell me that it was just weakness leaving my body."


    "I did do that, didn''t I?" Artax chuckled, then winced, one hand moving to his chest. "Do you remember when we threw all of Sampson''s clothing in the lake?"


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    Zeke burst out laughing. "Yeah, I do! Oh, that was amazing!" He sighed, then scowled. "And then Sampson revealed that the clothes in his room weren''t the ones he wore, anyway. He always changed in the kitchen cellar, to prevent that very thing from affecting him."


    "Smart," Artax commented. "You''ve got to get up pretty early in the morning to get around him."


    Zeke nodded, then sighed and looked up at his older brother. "So what are you doing here, exactly?"


    Artax leaned back and looked up at the sky.


    "I''m here to support you," he placed a hand on Zeke''s shoulder. "Father and I are going to be leaving in two days to travel to the Capital. I think you ought to come with us."


    "Father won''t let me," Zeke said, his shoulders slumping.


    "He will if you DEMAND it," Artax answered, his voice suddenly intense. "I think the trip would do you good. He respects strength. Sometimes, he yells at things because he wants to see it yell back."


    "He doesn''t want that from me," Zeke replied.


    "But he might." Artax folded his hands. After a few moments, he glanced over at Zeke, his eyes piercing. "You''re welcome to stay here and do nothing. If you do, you''ll likely be given a fairly reasonable chunk of land. A bit of farmland, an estate house, and a handful of servants to keep it up."


    Zeke laughed. "Like a true minor noble, is that what your saying?""


    "That''s exactly what I''m saying."


    It took a moment for it to fully sink in. When it did, Zeke''s eyes widened.


    Everything our family has built for generations... gone?


    "You''ve certainly seen the messengers," Artax continued. "A lot is happening, most of which you probably don''t even begin to understand. If our enemies get their way, they will destroy House Godfrey. Utterly and completely."


    Zeke balled his hands into fists, ignoring the pain that shot through his burned palms. He couldn''t let that happen. He slowly looked up at the statue of his ancestor... or at least someone who was related to his ancestor... or something. He sighed, then nodded.


    "I''ll speak to Father."


    "Good," Artax stood up, his face momentarily twisting with the effort. "Then I''ll make sure that he comes to dinner."


    <b>[Quest Updated: What Kills the Cat - Speak with Lord Agrian]</b>


    <b>*****</b>


    The rest of that day, Zeke contemplated his approach carefully. He didn''t yet know what he would do at the Capital, but staying behind was no longer an option. When dinner came around, he sat down in his usual place and waited patiently.


    The servants brought in a single plate of food and set it before him, then withdrew silently. Zeke waited, keeping his composure despite his growing hunger. After all, if his father was coming, it would be proper to wait.


    Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty. The grandfather clock in the corner marked each minute with methodical precision. Finally, a servant returned from his father''s office carrying two plates¡ªboth scraped clean.


    Zeke nodded to himself. So that''s how it is.


    He rose from his chair with quiet determination and made his way through the castle. His steps were measured, purposeful. This wasn''t about anger¡ªthis was about taking his rightful place.


    None of the servants attempted to stop him as he approached the great doors of his father''s office. The towering oak panels stood before him, carved with the Godfrey crest. He paused briefly, gathering his thoughts. Then, with a steady hand, he knocked firmly before opening the door and stepping inside.


    Agrian looked up from his desk, where he was writing a letter. Artax stood just behind him and gave Zeke a subtle nod of encouragement.


    "Yes?" Agrian asked, his quill pausing mid-stroke. "What brings you here?"


    Zeke stepped forward, his posture straight and confident. He hesitated for just a moment, not from fear but from considering his words carefully.


    <b>[Notice: You are gaining strength from a nearby Emblem]</b>


    A warm confidence spread through him, not replacing his resolve but reinforcing it. The air around him shimmered slightly with a golden light.


    "Father," he said, his voice clear and steady, "I''m here to discuss my role in whatever crisis our house is facing."


    "Your role?" Agrian set down his quill, giving Zeke his full attention.


    "Yes," Zeke replied without wavering. "I understand Artax''s condition has changed things for our family. Whatever threatens House Godfrey concerns me as well, and I intend to help address it."


    The room fell silent. Artax''s expression shifted from surprise to something resembling respect.


    "You believe you can contribute?" Agrian asked, studying his younger son with newfound interest.


    "I''m a Godfrey," Zeke stated simply. "I may not have completed the Trials or led men into battle, but that doesn''t mean I''m not concerned. This is our family''s survival." He met his father''s gaze directly. "I''m asking to join you at the Capital and to be included in whatever plans you''re making."


    Agrian leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. He glanced at Artax, who gave him a slight nod.


    "Interesting," Agrian said finally. "Sampson!"


    As if he''d been waiting just outside, Sampson appeared at Zeke''s side. "Yes, my lord?"


    "Take Zeke to the library," Agrian commanded. "Provide him with information on all the noble houses and the current political landscape." He turned back to Zeke, evaluating him with new eyes. "You have until morning. At first light, I''ll assess what you''ve learned. Demonstrate that you can grasp the complexities we''re facing, and you may accompany us to the Capital. Fair?"


    "Fair," Zeke agreed with a confident nod. "Thank you, Father."


    <b>[Quest Complete: What Kills the Cat]


    </b>


    <b>[New Quest: Cram Session - Learn from Sampson]


    </b>


    <b>[New Quest: Pop Quiz - Pass Agrian''s Test]</b>


    As Sampson led him from the room, Zeke felt a new sense of purpose settling over him. This wasn''t about proving himself anymore¡ªit was about stepping up when his family needed him most.


    He glanced back at Artax, who gave him a subtle smile of approval before the doors closed behind them.


    The second son steps forward.


    <b>[Scene Close]


    </b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    </b>


    <b>[Cram Session - Learn from Sampson]</b>


    <b>


    [Pop Quiz - Pass Agrian''s Test]


    </b>


    <b>[Shattered Champion - Discover what Artax meant about the house falling]</b>

 5. A Brothers Sword

    <b>[Scene Loading¡­]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Godfrey Estate - Godfrey Palace]


    </b>


    <b>[Date: July 30, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    Zeke spent the entire night in the library with Sampson, poring over ancient tomes and scrolls by candlelight. Maps of noble territories lay spread across tables, genealogy charts hung from the walls, and stacks of political treatises surrounded them on all sides. The butler proved to be a surprisingly thorough teacher, his knowledge of Athian politics both expansive and precise.


    "House Reinfir controls most of the eastern trade routes," Sampson explained, pointing to a region on the map. "Their sigil is a silver crow on purple. They''ve had territorial disputes with House Stragga for generations."


    "And Stragga has the golden serpent on green," Zeke recited, committing the information to memory. "They control the iron mines in the south."


    Sampson nodded approvingly. "Very good. Now, what about their alliances?"


    By the time dawn''s first light filtered through the high windows, Zeke''s mind brimmed with information about every major and minor house in Athia. He''d memorized sigils, family lines, territories, and the complex web of alliances that bound them together or set them against one another.


    As the clock struck six, Agrian entered the library. Dark circles under his eyes suggested he''d slept no better than Zeke had. Without preamble, he began the questioning.


    "House Torlane. Sigil and holdings?"


    "Black boar on orange. They control the northern forests and the lumber trade. Currently allied with Houses Duvray and Westmoreland through marriage."


    Agrian nodded, his expression giving nothing away. "House Blackwater''s dispute with the crown?"


    "Taxation of their pearl fisheries. They claim ancient rights exempt them from the new tariffs established three years ago."


    The questions continued for nearly an hour, covering everything from trade disputes to military capabilities to marriage prospects among the noble houses. Zeke answered each query with growing confidence, occasionally stumbling but never giving up.


    Finally, Agrian closed the book he''d been referencing and studied his younger son. "You''ve learned more in one night than most nobles'' children learn in years. Impressive."


    The rare praise warmed Zeke more than he expected. "Thank you, Father."


    "Don''t thank me yet. What you''re about to witness in the Capital is the ugly underbelly of Athian politics. It isn''t pretty, and it certainly isn''t fair." Agrian''s expression hardened. "Pack your things. We leave in an hour."


    As Agrian left, Sampson began gathering the scattered materials. "You did well, young master."


    "Better than you expected?" Zeke asked with a half-smile.


    "I never doubted your capabilities," Sampson replied, "only your willingness to apply them." The butler hesitated, then added, "If I may be so bold¡ªthis journey might present an opportunity."


    "What kind of opportunity?"


    "Leoncrest Academy lies just beyond the Capital. The premier training ground for knights in all of Athia." Sampson''s voice remained casual, but his eyes were intent. "The 34 Trials are administered there."


    "The Trials that Artax completed?" Zeke frowned. "But I''m not¡ª"


    "Not what? A Godfrey?" Sampson raised an eyebrow. "The same blood flows through your veins, young master. Perhaps circumstances will arise where that becomes significant."


    Before Zeke could respond, a servant appeared to help him prepare for the journey. Sampson''s words lingered in his mind as he packed, a possibility he''d never seriously considered.


    <hr>


    The journey to the Capital took four days by carriage. Athia''s landscape unfolded before them¡ªfirst the rolling hills and forests of the southern lands, then the vast central plains with their patchwork of farms and villages. Rivers cut through the countryside like silver ribbons, connecting the various regions of the kingdom.


    Athia was a rather large country, positioned in the northern part of the continent. It was bordered on the north mostly by mountains and frozen tundra, along with a few small nations that carved out their existence in the harsh landscape. To the west lay an immense desert with several smaller nations scattered through the arid region. To the south and east were nations of more comparable size and power: Lisandria with its vast navies, Ta''land with its mysterious magic academies, and the Kingdom of the Blue Desert with its unparalleled cavalry.


    During the journey, Zeke absorbed every detail he could from his father and brother. Agrian, though stern, proved a wellspring of knowledge about Athian politics, while Artax shared insights from his time at court. Their conversations often continued late into the night at roadside inns, illuminated by firelight and fueled by the urgency of their situation.


    "The Godfrey Estate''s position near the southern border has always been strategic," Agrian explained on their third night. "Our knights have historically been the first line of defense against invasions from Lisandria and beyond."


    "Which is why we''ve developed a reputation for martial excellence," Artax added, his voice still carrying pride despite his injury.


    "And why certain houses distrust us," Zeke concluded. "They see our military strength as a threat to the internal balance of power."


    Agrian nodded, something like respect flickering in his eyes. "Precisely. Some have even spread rumors that we collaborate with foreign powers rather than defeat them¡ªabsurd allegations designed to undermine our position."


    On the final day of their journey, the Capital appeared on the horizon, its white walls gleaming in the sunlight. As they drew closer, Zeke couldn''t help but stare in amazement. He''d heard stories about the Capital his entire life, but nothing had prepared him for the reality.


    The walls themselves stood nearly a hundred feet tall, crafted from white stone quarried from the eastern mountains. Just outside the main gates rose an immense statue of Emperor Lorian I, founder of modern Athia. In one hand he held an unsheathed sword, in the other an olive branch¡ªsymbols of his motto: "Peace through strength." The statue must have stood two hundred feet high, and Artax mentioned that at night, bonfires were lit in the statue''s eyes, visible for miles across the plains.


    As they passed through the gates, the city opened before them like a living tapestry. Unlike the fading grandeur of the Godfrey estate, the Capital pulsed with vitality. Streets wound between buildings of every size and description, from humble shops to towering mansions. They passed countless fountains and statues, each commemorating some hero or event from Athian history.


    The carriage navigated through broad avenues and narrow alleys, sometimes barely squeezing between buildings that seemed to lean toward each other across the street. In other areas, the city opened into grand plazas where hundreds of people gathered to trade, socialize, or watch performers.


    "There," Agrian pointed as they rounded a corner. "The Senate Building."


    The structure dominated the central plaza, its massive dome rising above all surrounding buildings. Columns supported the front facade, and wide stairs led up to bronze doors large enough to admit giants. The sight of it sent a chill down Zeke''s spine¡ªnot from fear, but from the sudden realization of what was at stake.


    As their carriage stopped at the base of the stairs, Agrian''s expression grew grim. "Remember what I told you. The Senate is not a place of honor or justice¡ªit''s a battlefield where the weapons are words and influence rather than swords and shields."


    "Stay close," Artax added, his face equally serious. "And watch your back. Not everyone here plays by the rules."


    Zeke nodded, squaring his shoulders as they climbed the steps. Unlike his earlier visits to the Capital, which had been filled with sightseeing and entertainment, this was a mission with the family''s future hanging in the balance.


    The interior of the Senate Building was even more impressive than its exterior. They entered through the bronze doors into a vast rotunda, the domed ceiling rising hundreds of feet above the floor. The walls were decorated with intricate murals depicting scenes from Athian history, and light streamed through stained glass windows high above.


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    The Senate chamber itself was bowl-shaped, with tiered seating arranged in a semicircle. Hundreds of senators in brightly colored robes filled most of the seats, each garment chosen to stand out from the crowd. Above them, galleries packed with civilians watched the proceedings with varying degrees of interest.


    At the center of it all stood a raised platform with a podium, currently occupied by a portly man with an elaborate robe and a ceremonial gavel.


    "And now, we will hear from House Stragga, regarding a territorial dispute on the Black River," the man announced, his voice carrying effortlessly through the chamber despite its size.


    "That''s Duke Minziar," Artax murmured to Zeke. "Current Master of Ceremonies. Not our friend."


    "Come," Agrian said quietly. "Stay sharp."


    They made their way down a side staircase to the main floor, where several people waited with scrolls and documents, presumably preparing to present their cases. As the Godfreys approached, the waiting nobles drew back slightly, several turning pale at the sight of Agrian.


    Duke Minziar caught sight of them and visibly stiffened. He quickly interrupted the ongoing presentation. "I apologize, but this debate will have to be placed on a temporary hold. We have some important guests here today, it would seem. Dropping in without an invitation is Agrian De''Godfrey, and his two sons! Please, welcome them to the stand."


    The tone carried false cordiality, but the underlying hostility was clear to everyone present. Agrian ascended to the podium with measured steps, his face a controlled mask of dignity.


    "Thank you for that introduction, Duke Minziar," he began, his deep voice filling the chamber. "I particularly appreciated the note about dropping by without an invitation." His tone darkened as he continued, hands gripping the podium. "It just seemed to me that doing things without an invitation was how you operated around here! I certainly didn''t receive an invitation when you filed an injunction to dissolve House Godfrey lands!"


    The room fell silent, senators shifting uncomfortably in their seats as Agrian continued.


    "I didn''t receive an invitation when you filed an injunction to break the line of inheritance between myself and my children! I didn''t receive an invitation when you filed an injunction to formally reclassify House Godfrey as a formerly noble house! I didn''t receive an invitation when you filed an injunction to seize House Godfrey money held within the Central Bank, or when you filed an injunction to loot House Godfrey''s vaults."


    Duke Minziar stepped forward, his smile oily and insincere. "Please, you must understand. You yourself voted on a similar issue back when House Floghast collapsed."


    "That was fifteen years ago," Agrian countered sharply. "The last of their family line, who, I might add, died of old age at 110, had just passed away. I still have two living sons, both of whom are capable of continuing the family name. This is unprecedented in the history of our kingdom, and I will not stand for it!"


    From the upper tiers of the Senate, a tall, thin man in sand-colored robes rose to his feet. "Your family line is broken," he called down. "The charter of House Godfrey states that the patriarch of the House must be a warrior, having completed your little 34 Trials."


    "And Artax has done so!" Agrian''s voice rose to a roar. "Lord Hobbson, you go too far."


    "And has now had his aura broken," Lord Hobbson replied with a dismissive shrug. "He is no warrior, not anymore."


    "You forget that I didn''t complete the 34," Agrian countered, slamming his fist on the podium.


    Lord Hobbson smiled thinly. "No, we did not forget. You were granted a dispensation, as was your father before you. The excuse of the ''curse'' of House Godfrey ends here. You do not have an heir who meets the requirements. The Senate judged that you were to be dissolved. That''s the end of the story."


    Zeke watched his father closely, admiring the way he maintained his composure despite the obvious provocation. There was a strategic mind at work behind Agrian''s apparent anger.


    "Oh, is it?" Agrian''s voice dropped dangerously. "Then I''d like to hear the beginning of it."


    "Word came back that your boy... Arjax? That sounds right. Word came back that Arjax had been killed." Lord Hobbson affected a concerned expression. "We were all quite relieved when we heard that he had survived, merely had his aura broken, but still."


    "And what day did you receive that report?" Agrian asked, crossing his arms.


    "Ahh... I don''t know." Lord Hobbson shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance.


    "Well, let me illuminate something for you." Agrian pulled out a document from inside his coat. "You received word of my son''s death on July 1st, and you voted to dissolve our lands on the 2nd. That''s remarkably efficient governance."


    Lord Hobbson simply shrugged again. "Can you blame us for¡ª"


    "That, though, is nothing compared to the speed of the messenger who brought you the message," Agrian interrupted. "Do you have his name? I''d like to hire him myself."


    "What do you mean?" Lord Hobbson''s confidence wavered slightly.


    "Well, my son, Artax, was attacked on June 30th, three hundred miles from this very chamber." Agrian''s voice was dangerously calm now. "They didn''t make it to the nearest village until that night, and given the weather up there, it''s likely that the messenger didn''t leave until morning. According to these reports, the messenger then showed up here at exactly 9:00 am, which means that at worst, he traveled three hundred miles in four hours. That seems like the sort of messenger that I''d like in my employment."


    A ripple of murmurs spread through the Senate. Duke Minziar puffed out his chest and stepped forward, attempting to regain control of the situation.


    "Are you insinuating that someone in this Senate hall had something to do with the dragon attack? That someone was able to..." He laughed derisively. "That someone was able to convince a dragon to do their bidding for them?"


    The chamber erupted in laughter at the absurdity of the suggestion. Dragons were forces of nature, not tools to be manipulated by human schemes. When the laughter subsided, Agrian spoke again, his voice low but carrying.


    "No. But I do think it possible that my son may have been given incorrect information, leading him into a trap instead of into a rescue situation, which is where he believed that he was going."


    The accusation hung in the air, causing several senators to rise from their seats in outrage. Some began to leave the chamber entirely, unwilling to be associated with such proceedings. Duke Minziar approached Agrian, speaking quietly enough that only those on the podium could hear.


    "You''re going to have to play politics better than that, Godfrey, if you want to stay afloat," he muttered. "I will have your land."


    Raising his voice again, the Duke brought his gavel down forcefully. "The fact of the matter is that we''ve already voted! House Godfrey will be dissolved, as you do not have an heir who can fulfill the charter that you yourself are bound to. That''s the long and the short of it. Case dismissed!"


    The gavel struck again with finality, and Duke Minziar lowered his voice once more. "Now get out of my sight. Scurry back home, and see what you can do to hide your fortunes before we come for it. You have no way to resist us anymore."


    Zeke looked at Artax, seeing the barely contained fury in his brother''s eyes. The injustice of it all was staggering¡ªnot just the attempt to dissolve their house, but the likely conspiracy behind Artax''s injury. They had orchestrated the perfect trap: arrange for Artax to face a danger beyond even his considerable capabilities, then move to strip House Godfrey of everything while they were still reeling from the aftermath.


    In that moment, Zeke saw with perfect clarity what needed to be done. The pieces fell into place¡ªSampson''s comments about Leoncrest Academy, the family charter requiring a warrior heir, the obvious gap in their enemies'' strategy. They had accounted for Artax''s defeat but had dismissed Zeke entirely.


    Their oversight would be their undoing.


    Without hesitation, Zeke stepped forward, his voice ringing out through the chamber.


    "I will complete the Trials!"


    Every eye in the Senate turned toward him. Zeke felt a momentary flutter of uncertainty, but it was quickly replaced by resolve. He moved past his father and took the podium, standing tall despite the hundreds of eyes fixed upon him.


    "House Godfrey needs a warrior-heir," he stated firmly. "I will complete the Trials."


    Laughter rippled through the Senate, but Agrian silenced it by snatching Duke Minziar''s gavel and rapping it sharply several times. When the chamber quieted, Agrian addressed the assembly.


    "Will you accept it?" His voice thundered through the hall. "If he completes the Trials, if he does what is required, will you accept it?"


    Lord Hobbson rose again, still smiling. "What a move! The second-born son, trying to take the inheritance of the first? This is incredible!"


    "No!" Zeke''s response was immediate and forceful. "I accept no inheritance."


    A confused silence fell over the chamber as all eyes¡ªincluding those of his father and brother¡ªfocused on him with renewed interest. Zeke drew a deep breath and continued.


    "I will not take the place of my brother. I will be my brother''s sword. He cannot fight; I will fight in his stead. He is the rightful heir, and I will do nothing to stand in his way. I will complete the Trials on his behalf. My honor will be his."


    The declaration hung in the air, unexpected and therefore powerful. Duke Minziar sputtered incoherently, clearly unprepared for this development. Agrian seized the moment, rapping the gavel again.


    "Will you accept it?" he challenged. "Will you honor the spirit of our laws, or will you continue down this unlawful path? Will you invite challenge and war?"


    It was mostly bluster¡ªeveryone present knew that House Godfrey, in its current state, could offer little military resistance. But the public nature of the accusation, combined with Zeke''s unexpected offer, created a situation that would be difficult to dismiss without appearing transparently corrupt.


    After a tense silence, Lord Hobbson sat down. "We will accept."


    Like a wave, the phrase spread through the chamber.


    "We will accept."


    "We will accept."


    As the acknowledgment rippled through the Senate, Zeke felt the weight of what he''d done settle upon him. He''d just committed himself to a challenge that had nearly killed his supremely talented brother¡ªa brother who had trained his entire life for it.


    Agrian turned from the podium and passed Zeke, pausing briefly. "You have no idea what you''re getting yourself into," he murmured, then added more softly, "But thank you, my son."


    The simple expression of gratitude filled Zeke with a warmth more powerful than any Emblem''s effect. He stood straighter, watching as his father and brother descended from the podium. The Senate was already moving on to other business, but the outcome of this confrontation would reverberate throughout Athian politics.


    As they exited the Senate Building, Zeke found himself between his father and brother, both of whom appeared deep in thought.


    "That was well done," Artax said finally, breaking the silence. "Unexpected, but effective."


    "They never considered you a threat," Agrian added. "That was their mistake."


    "And now?" Zeke asked.


    "Now we prepare," Artax replied. "The 34 Trials are no simple challenge. They''ve broken stronger men than any of us."


    "We''ll need to arrange for your training immediately," Agrian said, his mind already working on the practicalities. "Leoncrest Academy is the obvious choice, though they may resist admitting you."


    "I''ll handle that," Artax offered. "I still have friends among the instructors."


    As they reached their carriage, Zeke glanced back at the Senate Building, its dome gleaming in the afternoon sun. He had entered it as the spare son, overlooked and underestimated. He was leaving as House Godfrey''s last hope.


    He would fulfill his brother''s role and reclaim their family''s honor.


    All he had to do was try not to die in the process.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>


    [Active Quests:]</b>


    <b>


    [Infodump: Learn about the 34 Trials]


    </b>


    <b>[Training Montage: Train to begin 34 Trials]</b>

 6. Birthright of the Sword

    <b>[Scene Loading, ]</b>


    <b>[Location: Senate Chamber - Capital City]</b>


    <b>[Date: August 5, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    The Senate chamber emptied quickly after the vote, senators and spectators streaming out through the massive bronze doors. Zeke followed his father and brother in silence, still processing what he''d just committed to. The echoing footsteps and muffled conversations felt distant, as though he were hearing them through water.


    None of them spoke until they reached the street. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows between the towering buildings of the Capital, and Zeke had to squint against the light. Agrian set off eastward without explanation, his stride purposeful. Artax followed, leaning slightly on his cane, and Zeke fell in beside him.


    "Did I just make a terrible mistake?" Zeke whispered, too quietly for their father to hear.


    Artax''s expression remained neutral, but he gave a slight shake of his head. "You made the only move available. Whether it proves terrible depends on what you do next."


    They turned onto a tree-lined avenue where elegant townhouses stood shoulder to shoulder, each trying to outdo its neighbors in grandeur. Ornate balconies overflowed with cascading plants and flowers, while polished brass fixtures gleamed in the sunlight. Family crests adorned each doorway, visual reminders of the power concentrated in this district.


    Agrian stopped before a four-story townhouse with the Godfrey crest, a silver sword against swirling storm clouds, emblazoned above the door. Unlike its neighbors, this building showed subtle signs of neglect: slightly faded paint, untrimmed ivy, and empty flower boxes.


    "Our residence in the Capital," Agrian announced, producing a key. "We can speak freely inside."


    The heavy door swung open to reveal a dust-covered entryway. Portraits of stern-faced Godfrey ancestors lined the walls, their eyes seeming to follow Zeke as he entered. Cobwebs adorned the corners of elaborate ceiling moldings, and a thin layer of dust covered every surface.


    Agrian scowled, running a finger along a side table and examining the gray smudge it left. "This place should have been prepared for our arrival. I''ll find out what happened to our staff."


    He stalked off toward what Zeke presumed was the servants'' quarters, leaving the brothers alone in the foyer.


    "Come on," Artax said, gesturing toward a doorway. "The sitting room should be more comfortable."


    The sitting room was marginally better maintained, with leather chairs that showed less dust than the rest of the house. Bookshelves lined one wall, though several volumes were conspicuously missing, leaving gaps like missing teeth in an otherwise orderly row.


    Artax lowered himself carefully into a chair, wincing slightly. Zeke took the seat opposite him, leaning forward with elbows on knees.


    "So," Artax said, breaking the silence. "Do you have any idea what you just signed up for?"


    "Not really," Zeke admitted, then quickly added, "But I''ll figure it out. Whatever these trials involve, I''ll find a way through them."


    "You''ll get killed," Artax replied bluntly.


    Zeke blinked, taken aback by his brother''s directness.


    "You might not get killed," Artax amended, "but the 34 trials are punishing under normal circumstances. With the entire Senate watching and waiting for you to fail?" He shook his head. "They''ll make it as difficult as possible."


    Zeke considered this. The easy path would be to despair, to regret his impulsive declaration. Instead, he felt a strange, unfamiliar determination taking root.


    "Then I''ll just have to be better than they expect," he said, surprised by the conviction in his own voice. "Tell me about these trials. I need to know what I''m facing."


    A hint of pride flickered across Artax''s face. "The 34 Trials were established by the first Lord Godfrey to test his sons'' readiness for knighthood. Initially, there were only fifteen, but they expanded over the centuries."


    "What kind of tests are they?"


    "They begin simply enough, endurance marches, basic combat assessments, aura control exercises. But they grow progressively more demanding." Artax leaned back, his expression distant as if recalling his own experiences. "By the final trials, you''re hunting monsters, breaking sieges, and facing opponents who could kill you with a moment''s inattention."


    Rather than discouraging him, each detail Artax shared only heightened Zeke''s curiosity. These trials sounded like the adventures he''d read about in books as a child, the same stories he''d eventually dismissed as unrealistic fantasies meant for people like his brother, not him.


    "And these are all at Leoncrest?" he asked.


    "Yes. Originally, House Godfrey administered the trials ourselves, but eventually, they were moved to Leoncrest Academy for,  political reasons."


    "You mean because other houses complained?"


    Artax smiled. "Exactly. They claimed we were making the trials too easy for our own family members. In reality, they were just tired of Godfrey knights outshining their own."


    "So they made the trials harder?"


    "They certainly tried." Artax''s smile turned savage. "But all they accomplished was forging Godfrey knights who were even stronger."


    Something crashed in the hallway, followed by Agrian''s thunderous voice. The door swung open moments later, and their father entered, his expression dark.


    "The staff is gone," he announced, dropping into a chair so hard that a small cloud of dust rose around him. "Every last servant poached by rival houses, if the neighbors are to be believed. There''s a pile of unopened correspondence sitting in the kitchen. No wonder none of my messages received replies."


    "Typical," Artax muttered. "They''ll stoop to anything to undermine us."


    "What did we ever do to earn such enmity?" Agrian wondered, though the question seemed directed more at the universe than at his sons.


    "Succeed," Artax answered anyway. "Walk through the Hall of Heroes or open any historical account of the last five centuries. Godfrey knights led every major victory, slew every significant threat. History remembers individual heroes more readily than the lords who commanded them."


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    Agrian grunted acknowledgment, then turned his attention to Zeke. His piercing gaze made Zeke straighten instinctively.


    "You did well today," Agrian said, the unexpected praise causing Zeke to blink in surprise. "Without your declaration, we would have left that chamber as commoners."


    "I just, " Zeke paused, organizing his thoughts. "I couldn''t let them win like that. Not without a fight."


    "Good. That''s the Godfrey spirit." Agrian leaned forward. "But what comes next will test that spirit beyond anything you''ve experienced. The 34 Trials have broken strong men, men who spent their entire lives preparing."


    "So I''ve heard," Zeke replied, nodding toward Artax. "He was just telling me about Leoncrest."


    Agrian''s eyebrows rose. "You don''t know about Leoncrest Academy?"


    "Not much," Zeke admitted. "I know it''s where knights train, and that Artax went there, but the details were never really,  relevant to me before."


    A flash of regret crossed Agrian''s features, there and gone so quickly Zeke almost missed it.


    "That''s my failure," his father said quietly. "We should have prepared you better."


    The admission stunned Zeke more than any praise could have. He''d never heard his father acknowledge a mistake before.


    "Leoncrest is the premier academy in Athia," Agrian continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone that felt more familiar. "There are half a dozen such institutions across the kingdom, but Leoncrest stands above them all. Every Godfrey knight for the past five centuries has trained there."


    "Where is it located?" Zeke asked, genuinely curious now.


    "A day''s ride north of the Capital," Artax answered. "The main campus centers around an ancient fortress, but the academy grounds span hundreds of square miles, encompassing forests, lakes, mountains, every terrain you might encounter in actual combat."


    "The perfect training ground," Zeke mused.


    "And the perfect proving ground," Artax added. "Most noble houses send their children there, not just for training, but to forge alliances, settle rivalries, and establish their place in the hierarchy."


    For the next hour, Artax and Agrian took turns explaining Leoncrest''s history, traditions, and daily routines. They described the different faculties, combat, tactics, history, magical theory, and the complex social structure among the students. Zeke tried to absorb it all, though he suspected much of it would only make sense once he experienced it firsthand.


    As evening approached, a sharp knock at the front door interrupted their conversation. Agrian rose and went to answer it, leaving the brothers alone once more.


    "There''s something important I need to show you," Artax said suddenly, rising from his chair with the aid of his cane. "Come with me."


    Curious, Zeke followed his brother through the dusty house and up a winding staircase. They climbed past two floors of bedrooms and studies, finally emerging onto a rooftop garden. Years of neglect had transformed what must have once been an elegant space into a wild, overgrown retreat. Flowering vines spilled from cracked planters, and a small fountain stood dry, its basin filled with leaves.


    Zeke stepped carefully along the stone path, enchanted despite the disrepair. The garden offered a panoramic view of the Capital, with its domes, spires, and towers catching the last golden rays of sunset. In the distance, torches and lanterns were beginning to illuminate the streets as darkness fell.


    "This was my favorite spot when we stayed here," Artax said, making his way to a stone bench overlooking the eastern skyline. "I''d come up here to think, to plan,  sometimes just to escape the politics."


    Zeke joined him on the bench, gazing out at the cityscape. Other townhouses on their street were beginning to light up as noble families returned from the day''s Senate sessions.


    "See that?" Artax pointed to a massive domed structure in the distance, its gilded roof catching the last sunlight. "The Imperial Palace. I''ve been inside a few times."


    "Have you met the Emperor?" Zeke asked, unable to hide his excitement.


    "Once, during a formal reception." Artax nodded. "Many senators dismiss him as a figurehead, but I found him surprisingly perceptive. He spends most of his time strengthening Athia''s foreign alliances, work the Senate is too fractious to handle effectively."


    "He makes the best of limited authority," Zeke observed.


    "Exactly." Artax gave him a sidelong glance. "Sometimes the most important work happens outside the spotlight."


    Zeke caught his brother''s meaning and smiled. "Are you saying I''ve been secretly important all this time?"


    "I''m saying you''re about to become important in ways nobody expected, especially those who dismissed you." Artax''s expression grew serious. "Which brings me to why I brought you up here."


    The sudden shift in tone made Zeke straighten. "What is it?"


    "When you go to Leoncrest, you''ll be in danger, and not just from the Trials themselves." Artax lowered his voice, though they were alone on the rooftop. "What happened to me wasn''t an accident."


    "The dragon attack?"


    "The circumstances that led to it." Artax gazed out over the city, his eyes distant. "We received an urgent report about dire wolves threatening a Cilian village across the mountains. The information was detailed, credible, except it led us directly into Socrax''s territory."


    "You think someone arranged it?"


    "I know they did." Artax''s jaw tightened. "While climbing the pass, I spotted someone watching us, a cloaked figure who kept out of sight, observing from a distance."


    "They were leading you into the trap?"


    "No, they were ensuring we sprang it ourselves." Artax turned to face Zeke directly. "Dragons aren''t tools that can be controlled, but opportunities that can be exploited. Someone discovered Socrax was in the area and engineered a situation where I would encounter him."


    Zeke digested this information, its implications chilling. "Do you know who?"


    "I have suspicions but no proof." Artax shook his head. "I''ve tried reconstructing who might have had the necessary information, magical ability, and motive, but the list remains too long."


    "And you think they''ll target me at Leoncrest?"


    "I think the same forces that wanted me removed will try to ensure you fail." Artax placed a hand on Zeke''s shoulder. "Not necessarily the same individuals, but the same interests. The Trials are dangerous enough without enemies actively working against you."


    Rather than frightening him, the warning strengthened Zeke''s resolve. If these unknown enemies expected him to be an easy target, the pampered, frivolous second son, they were in for a surprise.


    "I''ll be on guard," he promised. "And I''ll prove them wrong."


    "Good." Artax squeezed his shoulder. "The most important advice I can give you is this: Find allies you can trust. Not everyone at Leoncrest will oppose you, some will see supporting a Godfrey as advantageous, especially if you show promise."


    "How do I know who to trust?"


    "Trust your instincts, but verify with actions," Artax advised. "Watch how people behave when they think no one''s looking. And remember, even rivals can become allies against a common enemy."


    They sat in companionable silence as the last light faded from the sky and stars began to appear. The Capital transformed below them, windows glowing with lamplight, streets illuminated by torch-bearing patrols.


    "I wish you could come with me," Zeke admitted. "At least to help me get started."


    Artax shook his head. "You need to arrive alone. If I accompany you, it signals to everyone that you need protection, that you''re not strong enough to stand on your own."


    "I understand," Zeke said, though the prospect of facing Leoncrest alone remained daunting.


    "However," Artax continued, "there is one thing I can give you to help." He extended his hand. "Take it."


    Curious, Zeke grasped his brother''s hand. Almost immediately, a warm sensation flowed up his arm and spread throughout his body. It wasn''t uncomfortable, but it felt, substantial, as though something tangible had been transferred.


    [You have received an Emblem!]


    [New Emblem: Heart of the Warrior]


    [Details: +100% Courage, +100% Strength, +100% Speed]


    "My first Emblem," Artax explained, something like nostalgia in his voice. "I earned it during my first Trial. It''s yours now."


    Zeke stared at his hand, not seeing any visible change but feeling somehow different, lighter yet stronger.


    "This is incredible," he whispered. "But should you give it up? Don''t you need it?"


    "My aura can no longer sustain Emblems," Artax said with a rueful smile. "Better it serves you than sits dormant within me."


    Impulsively, Zeke embraced his brother. After a startled moment, Artax returned the hug, his grip surprisingly strong despite his injuries.


    "Thank you," Zeke said, his throat tight with emotion. "I won''t waste this."


    "I know you won''t." Artax released him and stood. "Now, we should return downstairs. Father will wonder where we''ve gone, and you need rest. Your journey to Leoncrest begins tomorrow."


    As they made their way back down the stairs, Zeke found himself walking taller, his steps more confident. He couldn''t tell if it was the Emblem''s effect or simply knowing his brother believed in him enough to entrust him with something so valuable.


    Either way, for the first time since making his declaration in the Senate, Zeke felt ready to face what came next.


    The Trials awaited, and with them, the chance to prove that there was more to Zeke de''Godfrey than anyone, perhaps even himself, had ever suspected.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]</b>


    <b>Heart of the Warrior</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]</b>


    <b> [Training Montage: Train to begin 34 Trials] </b>


    <b>[Lonely Journey: Travel to Leoncrest Academy]</b>

 7. The Halls of Leoncrest

    <b>[Scene Loading, ]</b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Estate - Wild Forest]</b>


    <b>[Date: August 7, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    Zeke spent one more day in the Capital City, gathering supplies and information with an enthusiasm that surprised even himself. When the preparations were complete, his father hired a carriage adorned with the Godfrey crest, faded but still proud, and Zeke loaded his modest belongings inside.


    As he prepared to depart, Agrian approached the carriage window, his expression uncharacteristically soft.


    "Do us right," his father said, voice thick with an emotion Zeke had rarely heard from him. "You''re going to do well."


    "I''m going to maintain our honor," Zeke replied, straightening his shoulders. "We''ll make it through this."


    "I know we will." Agrian''s mouth twitched into what might have been a smile. "Go now. I''ll see you when term breaks."


    His father stepped back, and Artax limped forward, leaning on his cane. He rested a hand on the carriage door and peered inside with a mixture of pride and concern.


    "Make alliances," Artax advised. "Watch your back. Don''t be afraid to ask questions."


    "Got it," Zeke said, offering a confident grin he didn''t entirely feel. "I''ll be alright."


    With a crack of the driver''s whip, the carriage lurched forward, rumbling through the Capital''s north gate and onto the road beyond.


    The journey north took Zeke through vast agricultural estates that supplied the Capital''s endless appetite. Farmhands toiled in fields that stretched to the horizon, harvesting wheat that gleamed golden in the morning sun. Orchards heavy with summer fruit alternated with vineyards where workers sang as they pruned dense vines.


    Watching a group of farmers laughing together as they paused for lunch, Zeke felt a momentary pang. Their lives seemed straightforward, unburdened by crumbling family legacies or impossible trials.


    "No," he told himself firmly. "You have a responsibility. No use shirking it now."


    Besides, he admitted privately, the simple life had never really suited him. Even at his most idle, he''d sought adventure and excitement, just within the safe confines of the Godfrey estate.


    By early afternoon, the farmlands gave way to ancient forest, massive oaks and towering cedars forming a dense canopy that filtered the sunlight into dappled patterns on the road. Occasionally, Zeke spotted a cottage tucked among the trees or a woodsman working with ax in hand, but civilization grew sparse as they pressed northward.


    When they reached a swiftly flowing river cutting through the forest, the driver called down from his perch.


    "This is the boundary of Academy territory! From here on, you''re looking at your home for the next while!"


    Zeke leaned out the window, curious. The horses forded the shallow river, water splashing against their hooves, and continued along a road that became increasingly wild and rugged. Several times, Zeke could have sworn he saw flashes of movement among the trees, students practicing spells, perhaps, or woodland creatures startled by the carriage.


    Once, he distinctly saw a ball of blue fire arc between the trees before disappearing with a soft pop. Magic, without question.


    The road steepened dramatically, the horses straining against their harnesses as they pulled the carriage up a sharp incline. When they got to the top, Zeke looked out.


    Spread below him was the vast domain of Leoncrest Academy. Ancient forest dominated most of the landscape, but the terrain varied dramatically. To the east rose craggy red cliffs where Zeke spotted tiny figures scaling the vertical faces. To the west glimmered an enormous lake, its surface disturbed by what might have been tentacles or perhaps just especially vigorous fish. In the distance, snow-capped mountains punctuated the horizon.


    And at the center of it all stood Leoncrest itself.


    A massive wall of gleaming white stone encircled the inner grounds, punctuated by watch towers where flags snapped in the breeze. Beyond the wall, Zeke could see training fields and what appeared to be elaborate gardens before his eye was drawn to the academy proper, an enormous castle that defied conventional architecture.


    Towers of varying heights and designs rose like a stone forest, some impossibly tall and slender, others squat and imposing. Bridges arced between them at different levels, and stained-glass windows caught the sunlight, sending prismatic reflections across the grounds. The central keep dwarfed even the grandest buildings of the Capital, its battlements adorned with statues of knights and mages in heroic poses.


    As they approached, the massive iron gates swung open soundlessly, not pushed by guards, but moving of their own accord, the metal glowing faintly with arcane sigils. The carriage rolled through and across the perfectly maintained grounds.


    Now inside the walls, Zeke saw that what he''d taken for simple training fields were much more. Arenas dedicated to different combat styles dotted the landscape, some with ordinary practice dummies, others containing strange mechanical contraptions or animated golems that sparred with students. In one field, two young men dueled with swords wreathed in flame while an instructor watched critically.


    Near the wall, a group of students in blue robes practiced levitation, floating several feet above the ground while attempting to maintain precise formations. Not far from them, others in green appeared to be manipulating plants, accelerating the growth of seedlings into flowering vines within seconds.


    The carriage followed the circular drive that led to the main entrance, stopping before an enormous statue at the center of the courtyard. The bronze figure depicted a warrior with noble features, a sword at his side and a scroll in his outstretched hand.


    "Morris de''Godfrey," the driver announced proudly. "First of your line to complete the 34 Trials at Leoncrest. Bit of family history for you!"


    Zeke studied the statue with newfound interest. He''d heard the name in family stories but had never paid much attention. Now, facing the same trials that had tested his ancestor, the connection felt meaningful.


    As Zeke retrieved his trunk from the carriage, the driver tipped his hat. "Good fortune to you, young master. You''ll need it."


    With that encouraging farewell, the carriage departed, leaving Zeke alone before the towering entrance. The massive doors, oak reinforced with bronze bands inscribed with protective runes, swung open as he approached, responding either to his presence or perhaps to the Godfrey signet ring his father had insisted he wear.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The entrance hall beyond exceeded even the Senate Chamber in grandeur. Vaulted ceilings soared overhead, supported by columns carved to resemble ancient trees. Stained-glass windows depicted famous battles and magical discoveries, their colored light creating patterns across the marble floor. Between the windows hung tapestries showing the crests of noble houses alongside scenes of students completing the various trials.


    Zeke spotted the Godfrey crest prominently displayed on several, alongside depictions of knights battling dragons, scaling mountains, and standing victorious in tournament arenas.


    "Zeke de''Godfrey?"


    He turned to find a tall woman approaching, her bearing so straight it made Zeke instinctively stand taller. Her robes of blue and white identified her as a member of House Byron, and the silver circlet around her severe bun marked her as a senior instructor.


    "That''s me," he replied, offering what he hoped was a respectful nod.


    "Instructor Stela de''Byron," she said crisply. "I''ll be showing you to your quarters." Without waiting for acknowledgment, she turned and began walking, her strides precise and measured.


    Zeke hurried after her, lugging his trunk. The woman didn''t offer to help, which he suspected was the first of many tests.


    "The fall term begins in one week," she informed him as they walked. "You''ll see many more students arriving in the coming days. Terms follow the seasons, three months each with two-week breaks between them. Students may return home during breaks or remain at the Academy."


    "Who stays?" Zeke asked, genuinely curious.


    "Those whose homes are distant," she replied. "Those dedicated to extra studies. And those who find Academy life preferable to their home situations."


    Zeke filed that information away, suspecting it might help identify potential allies.


    "Leoncrest consists of twelve towers, each with its own purpose," Instructor de''Byron continued. "Male dormitories are in Tower One, female in Tower Two. The remaining towers house classrooms, libraries, laboratories, and faculty offices."


    They passed through corridors where display cases held artifacts that radiated magical energy, ancient weapons, strange devices, and crystalline formations that hummed audibly as they passed. In one hall, the portraits lining the walls moved subtly, the painted eyes following visitors.


    "We operate under a strict curfew," the instructor continued. "In your dormitory by eight, lights out by nine. Exemptions may be granted but must be obtained in advance."


    "What about emergencies?" Zeke asked.


    Instructor de''Byron glanced at him, one eyebrow slightly raised. "Emergencies are, by definition, unpredictable. Should one occur, the Academy will make appropriate allowances, assuming the emergency is genuine."


    They reached an elaborate spiral staircase with a large bronze "1" embedded in the adjacent wall. As they began to climb, Zeke noticed the steps were worn in the center from centuries of use.


    "Punctual attendance is both expected and demanded," the instructor continued. "Tardiness will result in discipline determined by individual professors. Five unexcused absences will result in expulsion."


    "Seems reasonable," Zeke replied.


    The instructor stopped abruptly, turning to face him with an evaluating gaze. "I understand you''ve had minimal preparation for Leoncrest. The Academy is demanding even for those who have trained their entire lives. The 34 Trials have claimed many promising students."


    Instead of intimidating him, her words kindled a spark of determination. "I''ll give it everything I have."


    "You''ll need to give more than you currently possess," she replied, then resumed climbing.


    They ascended floor after floor, passing dormitory levels filled with activity as returning students prepared for the term. Some glanced curiously at Zeke, while others were too absorbed in conversations about summer adventures or academic challenges to notice.


    On the tenth floor, Instructor de''Byron led him down a circular hallway lined with doors. The tower''s design meant the hallway wrapped around the central staircase, with wedge-shaped rooms extending outward like spokes on a wheel.


    She stopped at room 1012, produced a key, and opened the door before handing the key to Zeke. "This will be your quarters."


    The room was indeed wedge-shaped, wider at the window-wall than at the door. Two beds stood against opposite walls, each with a desk nearby. A wardrobe occupied the narrow end of the room, and a small attached washroom contained basic facilities. The window offered a spectacular view of the grounds, particularly the red rock formations to the east.


    "You''ll be sharing with Ralph de''Arnette," the instructor informed him. "He''s a year ahead of you, but, " She paused, expression carefully neutral. "He is currently in the Capital and will return with the others."


    Something in her tone suggested Ralph might not be the ideal roommate, but Zeke filed that away as another challenge to overcome.


    "If you have questions, my office is in Tower Five," she concluded. "I serve as first-year advisor for all students."


    "Thank you," Zeke replied with genuine gratitude. "I appreciate the guidance."


    Something resembling a smile briefly crossed her face before she nodded and departed, closing the door behind her.


    Zeke exhaled slowly, surveying what would be his home for the foreseeable future. "Well," he muttered to himself, "guess I get first pick of beds."


    He tossed his trunk onto the bed nearest the door and began exploring the room more thoroughly. The desks were stocked with parchment, quills, inkwells of various colors, and sealing wax complete with a House Godfrey seal for correspondence. The window had a latch that allowed it to swing fully open, potentially providing an alternate exit if necessary, a detail Artax would have noted immediately.


    A knock at the door interrupted his exploration. When he opened it, Zeke found himself face to face with a young man approximately his own age, dressed in fine robes of red and gray. Though they''d never met, something about the visitor''s features struck Zeke as vaguely familiar, the sharp nose, perhaps, or the thin-lipped mouth currently curved into a contemptuous sneer.


    "Yes?" Zeke asked, keeping his tone neutral. "Can I help you?"


    "Only if you want to leave the Academy and never return," the visitor replied.


    Zeke raised an eyebrow, matching the visitor''s hostility with casual disinterest. "Good to see you too. Have we met?"


    "I don''t know why you''re here," the young man continued, pushing past Zeke into the room without invitation. "I don''t know what you think you''ll accomplish, but I don''t want you here."


    "Fair enough," Zeke replied with a shrug. "And you are?"


    "Diocletian Minziar." The name was delivered with the expectation of recognition.


    Zeke recalled his lessons with Sampson, mentally connecting this arrogant youth with the portly Duke who had attempted to dismantle House Godfrey in the Senate. The family resemblance was now obvious.


    "Ah," Zeke nodded. "Your parents are the Count and Countess Minziar from the Blue River district, correct?"


    Surprise briefly flickered across Diocletian''s face. "So you''re not completely ignorant."


    "I''m full of surprises," Zeke replied, leaning casually against his desk. "Now, is there a purpose to this visit, or did you just want to introduce yourself?"


    "Your presence here is a mockery," Diocletian snapped. "The 34 Trials are legendary, and you''re treating them like some game anyone can play. I''m frankly shocked the Senate approved this farce."


    "Yet here I am," Zeke spread his hands. "Approved and enrolled."


    "You won''t survive the first Trial," Diocletian predicted with satisfaction. "Maybe not even the entrance assessments."


    "Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?" Zeke pushed away from the desk, moving toward Diocletian with deliberate steps. "If I''m doomed to fail, why waste your time warning me?"


    The question seemed to catch Diocletian off-guard. He took a step back, though he quickly masked the retreat by pretending to examine the room.


    "Consider it a courtesy," he recovered. "A chance to leave with dignity rather than be carried out in disgrace, or worse."


    "I appreciate your concern," Zeke replied with exaggerated politeness. "But I have responsibilities to fulfill. Anyone who stands in my way will discover I''m not as helpless as they might expect."


    Diocletian laughed, the sound brittle with forced confidence. "Your wrath? How terrifying." He backed toward the door. "Perhaps it will be entertaining to watch your attempts. Just know, " His face hardened. "I''ll be watching your every move. The moment you slip, I''ll be there."


    With that melodramatic declaration, he slammed the door, leaving Zeke alone once more.


    "Well," Zeke said to the empty room, "that was informative."


    In truth, the confrontation had settled something in him. Diocletian''s hostility was straightforward, predictable, the kind of enemy Zeke knew how to handle. If the worst Leoncrest had to offer was entitled noble sons with grudges, he might survive after all.


    Of course, Zeke reminded himself as he returned to unpacking, Diocletian wasn''t the real threat. The true dangers would be the Trials themselves, and whoever had orchestrated his brother''s "accident" would undoubtedly have plans for him as well.


    But those were concerns for tomorrow. Today, he had an academy to explore, potential allies to identify, and a room to claim as his own. The first steps of many on the path ahead.


    Grinning to himself, Zeke pulled Artax''s journal from his trunk and placed it prominently on his desk. Time to see what other secrets Leoncrest Academy held.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]</b>


    <b>Heart of the Warrior</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]</b>


    <b> [Training Montage: Train to begin 34 Trials]</b>


    <b> [Explorer: Take a look around the Academy]</b>

 8: New Allies

    <b>[Scene Loading¡­]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Castle - Dormitory]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: August 8, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    Zeke spent the rest of that night in his bedroom, mostly just getting things unpacked and ready. As he lay down and tried to sleep, he thought he heard something in the hallway, a low rumbling of stone and deep, heavy footsteps upon the carpet. He wasn''t at all sure what it was, and he had no intentions of poking his head out to find out. Some mysteries were better left unsolved, especially on your first night in a magical academy.


    The next morning, he rose with the sun, stretched until his joints popped, then changed into fresh robes. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him he hadn''t eaten since yesterday''s journey. There had to be a dining hall somewhere in this massive place. He slipped out into the hall, decided to follow his nose, and soon found himself descending the vast spiral staircase that dominated the central tower.


    When he reached the bottom, it wasn''t hard to follow the flow of students heading in the same direction. They moved like a river toward what turned out to be a large, surprisingly simple hall. No stained glass here, just tall windows letting in the morning light. Long wooden tables filled the space, with a massive buffet spread across one end.


    "Now we''re talking," Zeke muttered, eyeing the feast as he joined the line.


    Platters overflowed with fresh fruits, nuts, pastries, sausages, and bacon. The smell alone was enough to make his mouth water. He helped himself to a healthy portion of everything, balancing his overloaded plate carefully as he searched for a place to sit.


    Most tables were already filling up, students clustered in tight-knit groups. Every so often, someone would glance his way, whisper something to their companions, and they''d all turn to stare. Zeke pretended not to notice, choosing an empty spot near the center of the room.


    "Let them stare," he thought, taking a big bite of apple. It was perfectly crisp and sweet.


    He understood their reaction, really. If some random guy had shown up at his home, claiming he was going to accomplish what even the most elite knights would hesitate to attempt, he''d probably have been skeptical too. Still, the constant attention made the apple lose some of its flavor.


    "Hey. Mind if I sit here?"


    Zeke looked up to see a girl approaching from across the table. She wore simple brown robes, threadbare but clean. Her hands bore callouses that no noble would ever sport, and her face had the sun-kissed look of someone who spent time working outdoors.


    "Be my guest," Zeke said, gesturing to the empty bench.


    She set down a plate loaded with sausage and bacon, then settled onto the seat. "So you''re the newbie everyone''s talking about?" she asked with a small smile.


    "That''d be me." Zeke nodded. "Zeke de''Godfrey."


    "Elise Arvand." She answered. "No ''de'' for me."


    Zeke tilted his head. "So you''re a commoner?"


    "Yeah." She shrugged without a hint of embarrassment. "Arvand is the name of the province where I come from. It''s way out west, almost into Davenia. Actually, it''s been claimed by Davenia several times. We just sort of ride along with whatever country happens to conquer us most recently."


    Zeke laughed. "That''s one way to handle politics. You''re a warrior?"


    "I''m in the mage course." She plucked a piece of bacon from her plate. "Well, sort of. I only started in the Summer Term, so I don''t really have much experience yet. I''m still working to levitate things, let alone do all the really cool stuff."


    "You''ll get there," Zeke said with certainty. "Say, think you could show me around this place? I''m still trying to wrap my head around the sheer scale of it all."


    "Sure thing," Elise nodded, her eyes brightening. "As soon as we''re done with breakfast, we''ll be off."


    They ate quickly, though Zeke couldn''t help noticing the dirty looks shot their way. Some students didn''t even try to hide their disdain, openly scowling at him from across the hall. Strangely, rather than discouraging him, it only strengthened his resolve.


    No one wanted him there. No one thought he could do it.


    Perfect. All the more satisfying when he proved them wrong.


    When they finished eating, they rose and left the dining hall together. Elise pointed him down a large hallway that led deeper into the castle.


    "I know it feels like you must be halfway through the place by now, but you''re actually still at the very front," she explained, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor. "Your classes will all be back this way. The library is here too - biggest in all of Athia. You''re going to love it, if you''re into reading."


    Zeke nodded, then asked, "So if you''re a commoner, how did you end up at Leoncrest? I thought this place was mainly for nobles."


    "Oh, there are a few ways in for people like me," Elise said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "My parents noticed early on that I had an aptitude for magic. I''d do random things around the house that shouldn''t have been possible. When I started helping my mother tend the garden, I could make the plants grow faster just by wanting them to."


    She continued as they walked, "Word got out when someone from the village saw me do it, and one thing led to another. As soon as I was old enough, the governor of the territory himself vouched for me and helped me get in."


    "That''s amazing," Zeke murmured, genuinely impressed.


    "Not as cool as your story," Elise countered, her eyes lighting up. "Taking up your brother''s sword after his aura was broken fighting Socrax! That''s the stuff of legends." She suddenly turned and gestured at an elaborate doorway. "And here''s the library."


    They stepped through the archway, and Zeke''s jaw dropped. The room was almost as large as the entry hall, but filled with countless books. Shelves rose dozens of feet into the air throughout the middle of the room, with far taller ones lining the walls all the way to the vaulted ceiling. The smell of parchment, leather, and ink filled the air.


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    <b>


    ¡¾The largest collection of knowledge in the kingdom¡¿</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Home to over one million tomes¡¿


    </b>


    <b>¡¾Special collections require authorization¡¿</b>


    While Zeke was still gaping in amazement, an elderly man with a beard that fell to his waist shuffled forward from between the stacks.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    "Welcome, welcome!" he called in a surprisingly strong voice.


    Zeke nodded and held out his hand. The old man shook it with a grip firmer than his appearance suggested, then turned to Elise with a grandfatherly smile.


    "Well, any friend of Elise is a friend of mine, so I imagine you will be quite welcome in this place." His eyes narrowed slightly as he examined Zeke. "I don''t recognize you, and I know everyone here, which means you must be new. Let me see. Let me look at your eyes," His own eyes widened in recognition. "Zeke de''Godfrey?"


    "Does everyone here know who I am?" Zeke asked, trying not to sound annoyed.


    "I''m afraid so, yes." The old man sighed sympathetically. "My name is Adrian Levayne. I serve as the caretaker of the library. I''ll admit, when I heard you were coming, I was pleasantly surprised. I have somewhat of a larger interest in your arrival than most."


    "Really?" Zeke frowned.


    "Indeed. I was good friends with your grandfather when he came through Leoncrest." Adrian smiled warmly, his eyes distant with memory. "I didn''t have much chance to interact with your brother. He was in a tight spot and was pushed to complete the trials as fast as possible. I don''t think he had a lot of choice." He shook his head. "Well, all of that can come later. I''m very glad that you''ve arrived."


    Footsteps echoed on the floor behind them, and Zeke turned to see an elderly woman approaching. She wore the elaborate robes of a professor, and her stern face was lined with age.


    "Elise! There you are," she called. "I''ve been looking everywhere for you. Did you forget that we had a training session this morning?"


    Elise sighed and rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Madam Thompson. I forgot."


    "Then it''s a good thing I found you! Come along, come along." The professor beckoned impatiently.


    Elise shrugged apologetically at Zeke. "Duty calls. I''ll see you around!" She waved as she was led away.


    Zeke waved back, then turned to Adrian, who was studying him intently.


    "Just look at you," the old librarian said, shaking his head in wonder. "You''re every inch your grandfather, I hope you know that."


    "I don''t," Zeke admitted. "I never knew him. Don''t know much of anything, really."


    "Well, then I''ll do what I can to get you caught up." Adrian patted his shoulder. "My office is always open to you. House Levayne and House Godfrey have always been allies, and right now, I fear the safety of the whole realm may hinge on your standing here. Yeah." He paused, then sighed. "No, that can come later, too."


    "There seems to be a lot happening that nobody wants to tell me about," Zeke observed. "My brother was the same way at first."


    "This sort of situation has never happened before, at least according to the history books," Adrian explained. "It has people feeling quite tense, and I can''t say I blame them. Strange circumstances breed strange consequences."


    Zeke frowned, trying to process this cryptic information. Suddenly, footsteps echoed from between the stacks, and two young women emerged from the rows of books.


    The first had brilliant red hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her robes, dyed in deep crimson and gold, were bound elegantly around her slender frame, and a thin rapier hung at her side. She carried herself with the unmistakable air of nobility - head high, shoulders back, every movement precise and deliberate.


    Beside her walked a taller, more muscular woman with short black hair. Unlike her companion, she wore a set of lightweight training armor rather than robes. The sword at her hip was larger, its hilt set with glittering gemstones. Her gray eyes were sharp and assessing, taking in everything around her with military precision.


    Both women cast appraising glances at Zeke as they passed. Neither looked particularly impressed by what they saw, though the red-haired one raised an eyebrow briefly before they continued on their way.


    Adrian waited until they were gone before speaking. "Victoria Reinfir and Ingrid Stormhall. They''ve been here for a few years now and are the best of friends."


    "You know them?" Zeke asked.


    "I told you, I know everyone," Adrian smiled, tapping his temple. "I watch, and I learn. Those two room together, and they''re not to be trifled with. Female students tend to have a harder time at the academy, but they bonded early and have stood against everything thrown at them."


    He lowered his voice slightly. "Not that I intend to gossip, but I personally think that some of their ''stands'' have been a bit over the top. All I mean to say is that you don''t want to get on their bad sides. Do that, and you won''t know what hit you."


    "Good to know," Zeke said, filing away this information. "What about Diocletian de''Minziar? The guy who confronted me yesterday."


    "Harmless," Adrian shrugged, "at least in all the important ways. He comes from an insignificant branch of a major house known for aggression. Few of his own relatives take him seriously, so he does what he can to ensure everyone else does. He''s annoying, but he won''t do you any real harm beyond perhaps a beating in the training yard now and then."


    "Could be worse," Zeke nodded, considering. "And my roommate? Ralph de''Arnette?"


    "Ah! Now there''s a heart of gold," Adrian''s face brightened. "If you scored him as a roommate, your stay will be much pleasanter. He''s a good student, if somewhat lax about studying. You''ll get along well with him." He clapped his hands together. "Now, why don''t I show you around?"


    For the next several hours, Adrian gave Zeke a comprehensive tour. They explored much of the library, including several hidden study alcoves that were nearly impossible to find without guidance. Outside the library, Adrian showed him the locations of all the major towers and how to reach his most important classes. By the time they finished, Zeke felt he had a much better understanding of the academy and its workings.


    "The main thing is to stay focused," Adrian summarized as they concluded their tour back in the library. "Keep your wits about you, and don''t hesitate to ask for help." He paused, his expression growing serious. "And don''t venture outside the Academy walls unless required for a class. The Leoncrest Estate is enormous, and students are technically allowed to explore it at their discretion, but it can be perilous. If you get lost and miss class, you''ll be expelled, and, well, there are many dangers lurking in those woods."


    "I''ll keep that in mind," Zeke promised. "Thank you, again, for everything."


    With that, he started back through the castle, taking his time to peek into open rooms and halls as he passed. He wondered what his time here would be like. Would he make friends and forge alliances? Or would he end up as a lone wolf, standing against seemingly impossible odds? There was no way to know yet - all he could do was press forward.


    When he arrived back at his room in the late afternoon, his stomach was growling. He''d missed lunch during the tour, but hunger was quickly forgotten when he noticed his door was slightly ajar. Curious, he pushed it open to find another student already inside.


    The boy spun around at the sound. "Who''s there?"


    "Just me," Zeke said, holding up a hand in greeting. "Ralph de''Arnette?"


    "That''s me!" The other boy''s frown vanished, replaced by an enthusiastic smile. "Oh! And you''d be Zeke! You have no idea how much I''ve heard about you!"


    Zeke stepped inside and offered his hand. Ralph shook it vigorously. He wore robes of sapphire and black - House Arnette''s colors. Taller than Zeke by a few inches and considerably more heavyset, he had the look of someone who enjoyed the finer things in life. Despite this, his handshake was firm and his eyes sharp. A mop of curly red hair framed his round face, and he flopped back onto his bed as Zeke closed the door.


    "Oh, this is going to be fun!" Ralph declared, stretching out comfortably. "Everyone already thinks I''m weird, so now that you''re here, they''ll really think I''ve lost my marbles. But that''ll just play perfectly into my plans."


    "Which are?" Zeke asked, settling onto his own bed.


    "Oh, you know. Preparing for life after the Academy," Ralph replied casually. He pulled a small throwing star from his pocket and tossed it up at the ceiling. To Zeke''s amazement, it stuck firmly in the wooden beams overhead. "Forging weapons and all the other cool stuff that House Arnette does."


    He sat up suddenly, eyes bright with recognition. "Hey, your brother had a sword from our forge, I think! Yeah, he did! I remember because I was shocked when I heard it shattered. Had to have been a nasty dragon indeed to break House Arnette steel."


    Zeke nodded, impressed despite himself. House Arnette''s weapons were legendary.


    Ralph continued without pausing for breath. "Anyway, here''s what I''m thinking. We go into this as a team, and I claim to be your squire. That''ll really throw people for a loop! Half of them think you''re nothing more than a ragdoll, and the other half suspect you''ve been secretly training from birth."


    He gestured dramatically, nearly falling off the bed in his enthusiasm. "If I say I''m your squire, they''ll assume you must be epic, which makes me epic by association! If we go the other way, with you as my squire? No one would blink twice."


    The throwing star dropped from the ceiling and landed with a thunk in the bed, barely missing Ralph''s leg. He didn''t even flinch.


    "And then we come to the girls," he continued, wiggling his eyebrows. "Here''s my plan for that situation."


    As Ralph rambled on, laying out increasingly elaborate schemes for their time at the academy, Zeke couldn''t help but smile. His new roommate clearly had energy to spare and seemed to know every corner of academy life. Whatever challenges lay ahead, having an ally like Ralph would make them easier to face - and probably a lot more entertaining too.


    <b>[Scene Close]


    [Earned Emblems:]


    - Heart of the Warrior


    [Active Quests:]


    [Training Montage: Train to begin 34 Trials]


    [First Day: Attend your first class]</b>

 9. First Day of Classes

    <b>[Scene Loading¡­]</b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Castle - Tower 7]</b>


    <b>[Date: August 15, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    One week later, the halls filled with students as the last of the newcomers arrived, and all the veterans showed back up from their holiday. The hustle and bustle of the castle was constant, no matter where Zeke wandered.


    Except at night, when all he could hear were those strange, stony footsteps wandering here and there. They made him nervous, though he imagined that that was the point.


    In any case, the first day of classes finally came around. His class schedule had been delivered to him in the days leading up to the start, and Ralph quickly grabbed the list from him.


    ¡°Alright! Let¡¯s see what we¡¯ve got here.¡± He murmured, scanning through it all. ¡°Aura Infusion¡­ Introduction to Politics¡­ History of Athia I¡­ Introduction to Swordsmanship.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Not a huge class list, but not a small one, either. That history class usually isn¡¯t started until the second year. They must really think you can handle it.¡±


    Zeke frowned, scratching the back of his neck. Maybe¡­ Or, maybe, someone was really trying to make sure that he didn¡¯t pass.


    In any case, the day of the Academy was laid out in a very structured manner. The pre-dawn part of the day, up until 9:00, was free for use. Dueling clubs and physical training regimes were common, though not official Academy offerings, and could be accessed on the main lawn. Some of them were invite-only, others were open. Zeke had plans of joining at least one of them, but hadn¡¯t yet had the time to figure it all out.


    Then, from 9:00 until noon were academic classes. Noon to 1:00 was lunch, and then 1:00 until 5:00 comprised warfare classes. Dueling, casting, that sort of thing. Dinner was open from 5:30 until 7:30, though technically all time after 5:30 was again free for student use. There were other clubs that met at that time, with a variety of focuses. Some were physical, some revolved around study or cooking, and so on. Then, of course, 8:00 was curfew, and from what Zeke could tell, no one ever dared to break it.


    On that first day of classes, he found himself wandering up into Tower 7, which was far more massive than his dormitory tower. The tower still had a central staircase with rooms and halls branching off at every level, but the rooms were far larger, and sometimes there were even multiple halls. The tower was truly enormous, so large that it often didn¡¯t properly feel like a tower at all.


    In any case, Zeke¡¯s first class, Aura Infusion, was located on the fourth floor. When he walked inside, he found a large classroom packed with just about every sort of student that you could imagine. Elise caught his eye and waved him over to her, and he slipped over and sat down.


    ¡°Ready for your first day?¡± She asked, excitedly.


    ¡°I hope so.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m surprised to see you in an intro-level class, though.¡±


    She frowned, and glanced over at him. ¡°This isn¡¯t an intro-level class. This is a second-year class. You mean¡­¡±


    Her eyes widened, and Zeke felt a flash of fear. He had been placed into a second advanced class? An advanced history class was one thing, but an advanced Aura class?


    A moment later, the door burst open, and the professor strode in. He wore black and silver robes, marking him as a member of House Stragga. As he reached the front of the room, he turned around and gazed sharply at everyone there.


    ¡°Welcome, to Aura Infusion.¡± He crossed his arms and slowly turned his gaze to Zeke. Zeke felt as though the gaze was burning a hole straight through him. ¡°As you all know, Aura Infusion is the class that comes after Aura Movement. Aura movement is the practice of moving one¡¯s Aura throughout your body, and you should only attempt mana infusion if you have mastered Aura movement. Is there anyone here who believes they may be in the wrong class?¡±


    His gaze was fixed dead on Zeke, and Zeke felt his palms grow sweaty. It was a test, that much was simple. If Zeke spoke up, then he would be a laughingstock, but if he didn¡¯t, he would be in a class that he couldn¡¯t hope to pass. Sure, everyone already thought that he was a laughingstock anyway¡­ But he did need allies, and he had a feeling that playing the political game would be a large part of completing the trials.


    ¡°Say something!¡± Elise hissed.


    Zeke kept his mouth clamped shut. After a moment, the professor nodded.


    ¡°Very well. You may call me Professor Gerald De¡¯Stragga. By the end of this class, I expect that you will all have a much better time infusing your aura into things. In order to pass, you will need to infuse your aura into a throwing star, and guide it through a maze without hitting the walls. Now, as a brief recap, who can tell me what an Aura is?¡±


    A hand shot up at the front of the room. Zeke couldn¡¯t tell who the student was who answered.


    ¡°The Aura is the source of a warrior¡¯s power.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Professor Gerald nodded, again looking dead at Zeke. ¡°Aura is what allows you to enhance your strength and speed, use Emblems, use magic, and do a great many other things. Everyone in this room, besides myself, will have an E-Rank Aura. If you wish to confirm this fact, simply place your hand on the upper right-hand corner of your desk.¡±


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    Zeke glanced at that corner, where he found a small, grey square. He placed his hand upon it, and a message appeared.


    <b>[Aura Reading: E-Rank]</b>


    <b>[Classification: Initiate]</b>


    <b>[Progress to D-Rank: 1%]</b>


    ¡°Good.¡± The professor said after a moment. ¡°Let us begin.¡±


    He raised his hand, and a box floated up from the corner of the room. It burst open, and a small, crystal sphere flashed out to land on the desks of all the students. Zeke felt his settle into his hand, and he winced. It was only a few inches across, so that he could easily grasp it with his fingers.


    ¡°There we go.¡± Professor Gerald spoke up. ¡°Now, we¡¯ll begin by having everyone focus their aura into their hand. For now, don¡¯t pick up the sphere. This is only a simple exercise.¡±


    Zeke put down the sphere, then held up his hand. He did his best to channel his aura into it, but¡­ Well¡­ He had never been too great at it. He pulled and directed it as best he could, and saw the skin on his right hand beginning to glow.


    ¡°If you¡¯re seeing any glowing energy, that¡¯s a bad sign. It means that you don¡¯t have control yet.¡± Professor Gerald cautioned them. ¡°Try to reduce it as much as possible.¡±


    Zeke sighed and did his best, but he simply didn¡¯t know how to control it all that well. His hand, if anything, began to glow even more brightly.


    ¡°Alright. Now, pick up the sphere.¡± Professor Gerald called out. ¡°Begin to pour your Aura into it, but do so very slowly. We don¡¯t want to risk any accidents. The result should be that the sphere hovers just a few inches above your palm, like so.¡± He picked up one of the spheres himself, and it rose up above his skin, where it danced about slightly. ¡°Nothing fancy today.¡±


    Zeke nodded, and held up his hand. It was still glowing, and he tried to add a bit of his aura. Around him, he heard gasps of awe as the balls floated up above other peoples¡¯ hands, and he gritted his teeth.


    ZZZZAP!


    A blast of lightning seemed to explode from his palm, launching the crystal sphere high into the air. It struck the ceiling with a resounding boom, then fell back to whack another student in the back of the head. As that student spun around, Zeke found that he had just hit Diocletian, of all people, with it.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Diocletian roared, leaping to his feet. ¡°He just tried to kill me!¡±


    ¡°I very much doubt that.¡± Professor Gerald sounded amused. ¡°In all my years, I have never seen a student with so little control over their aura, at least in this class. If he had been trying to kill you, I am sure that the projectile would have gone nowhere near your head.¡±


    The rest of the class laughed, and Zeke sighed and sank down into his chair. Professor Gerald waved his hand, and the ball floated back into Zeke¡¯s grasp.


    ¡°Perhaps we should try that again. Zeke? Would you care to demonstrate to the class how that was a simple mistake? I¡¯m sure that in reality, you¡¯re far better than that.¡±


    Zeke let out a long breath. He glanced over at Elise, who suddenly closed her eyes. As he started to focus his aura into his palm, there came another flash of energy.


    But this one came from across the room.


    BLAM!


    A sphere erupted from another student¡¯s hand and went straight through one of the windows. Glass came crashing down, tinkling across the cabinets and the floor. Another student¡¯s hand exploded as well, and the sphere was sent straight into the hardwood paneling of the classroom walls.


    Professor Gerald¡¯s eyes narrowed, and his gaze swept around the classroom. It was clear that he suspected something, though he couldn¡¯t quite figure out what it was. After a moment, he swept back to the front of the classroom. The rogue spheres were returned to their owners, and he sighed.


    ¡°It would seem that the Introduction to Aura professor didn¡¯t do his job.¡± He crossed his arms tightly. ¡°If so many of you are having the same problem, it cannot be assumed that the issue lies in a single incompetent student. Let us review, briefly, the principles of aura control.¡±


    ¡°But professor!¡± One of the students called out. ¡°I know how to control my aura! The ball just leapt out of my hand, it was-¡±


    ¡°Quiet!¡±


    Zeke glanced over at Elise, who opened her eyes and flashed a small smile at him. He smiled back, then turned his attention to the front of the classroom. Professor Gerald began to review, in brief, the basics of aura control, and while Zeke didn¡¯t understand a lot of it, by the end of the class, he was able to focus his aura into his hand without any major problems.


    When the class was over, everyone rose and began to disperse. Zeke glanced down at his list, realizing that he had only about fifteen minutes to make it all the way down to Tower 11. It was a long haul, and he was going to have to run. As he slipped toward the edge of the classroom, though, Professor Gerald seemed to materialize from the shadows.


    ¡°Godfrey.¡±


    Zeke froze, and he slowly turned to look up at the professor. His blood froze, and the professor pulled him off to the side.


    ¡°Please, sir, I¡¯m going to be late.¡± Zeke protested.


    ¡°I will be fast. Here.¡± Professor Gerald pulled a small note out of his pocket. ¡°A late slip, given by professors to students when they need to stay and talk for a few moments. It doesn¡¯t excuse you for more than a few minutes, but it gives you some leeway.¡±


    ¡°Ahh¡­ Thank you?¡± Zeke raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Do not thank me. I am required by Academy regulations to provide such concessions. I have no interest in helping you along.¡± Professor Gerald¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°If you ask me, boy, you should turn around and run home as fast as you can. The Godfrey line was doomed generations ago.¡±


    ¡°What does everyone have against us?¡± Zeke snapped. He realized, the moment it was out of his mouth, that he probably shouldn¡¯t have talked to a professor in such a way, but¡­ What else was he going to do?


    ¡°What does everyone have against you? Do you really not know?¡± Professor Gerald sneered. ¡°The Godfreys have been loose cannons for hundreds of years. The great and noble knights, they¡¯ve been allowed to walk all over the kingdom. They¡¯ve stolen countless relics from all the other houses, House Stregga no less, and stored them away in their vaults. Their victories overshadow the contributions of armies. For generations, House Godfrey has done whatever they want, whenever they want, without any sense of duty. We spent generations asking simply for restraint, and our calls went unanswered. This is the reward that your house has reaped.¡±


    Zeke¡¯s stomach flipped, but he nodded and slipped out of the classroom. Putting on a burst of speed, he hurried away. Well, he certainly wasn¡¯t going to be winning any popularity contests with Professor Gerald. That much he could handle, just so long as he could figure out a way to pass the class and stay in the academy.


    And, for that, he imagined that he was going to need a bit of help.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]</b>


    <b>- Heart of the Warrior</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]</b>


    <b>[Training Montage: Train to begin 34 Trials]</b>


    <b>[Catchup: Find someone to teach basics of Aura control]</b>

 10. Lessons and Trials

    [Scene Loading¡­]</b>


    [Location: Leoncrest Castle - Tower 8]</b>


    [Date: August 20, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


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    ¡¸?????????????????? ??????????????¡¹</b>


    [Headmistress Florence Dracthen]</b>


    [Location: Tower 12, Top Floor]</b>


    [Urgency: Immediate¡¿]</b>


    ¡¸?????? ??????????]</b>


    [Crash Course: Prepare for the 3-day march]</b>


    [Time Remaining: 3 days]</b>


    [Difficulty: High]</b>


    [Scene Close]</b>


    [Earned Emblems:]</b>


    Heart of the Warrior</b>


    [Active Quests:]</b>


    [Crash Course: Prepare for the 3-day march]</b>

 11. Testing

    <b>[Scene Loading...]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Castle - Library]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: August 23, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    "Alright," Zeke frowned as he poured over the map in front of him, Adrian at his side. "So just east of the desert is the river?"


    "And you''re going to have to cross it, yes," Adrian murmured, stroking his beard. "That''s where your brother failed, unfortunately. One misstep, and you''ll be whisked right back to the castle. There''s a net strung up across the river to catch students who fall into the water. It actually happens more often than you''d think. Terribly embarrassing to be returned to the castle like that."


    "Great," Zeke sighed. "So then, the third flag will be somewhere in there?"


    "Yes," Adrian confirmed. "The Dark Wood, as they call it. There are a number of dangers that lurk within, and-"


    "Zeke de''Godfrey?"


    Zeke looked up as a messenger entered the room. The young boy wore the Academy''s black and silver livery and stood with formal stiffness.


    "That''s me," Zeke replied.


    "The Headmistress is ready for you," the messenger said. "The Trial begins now."


    Adrian nodded to the messenger with a smile. "We will be along."


    The messenger vanished, and Adrian placed a hand on Zeke''s shoulder. "Remember everything we''ve discussed. You''re better prepared than most who attempt this Trial."


    "Thanks to you," Zeke said, rolling up the map.


    "You''ve worked hard these past three days," Adrian replied. "Now it''s time to put that preparation to use."


    They walked together through the halls of the academy. Zeke mentally reviewed the extraordinary amount of information Adrian had shared over the previous three days.


    The Academy grounds held a truly enormous variety of terrain within its boundaries, most of it incredibly dangerous. Useful for training cadets, of course, but treacherous for the unprepared.


    They proceeded out the back of the castle and across the grassy slopes surrounding the academy. Eventually, they came to the large stone wall that held the wilderness at bay.


    Headmistress Florence stood there, her face sharp and unforgiving as ever. Several messengers and professors stood nearby, along with an assortment of students who had come to see him off.


    Ralph was there wearing his usual grin, and beside him stood Elise, who gave Zeke an encouraging wave. He smiled and nodded back, but kept his focus on what lay ahead.


    As he approached the Headmistress, she crossed her arms and regarded him with cold calculation.


    "Zeke de''Godfrey, next in the long and unbroken line of House Godfrey, are you prepared to take up your mantle as the next knight of your house?"


    "Yes," Zeke nodded firmly, straightening his shoulders.


    "Then let me ensure that you understand the challenge," the Headmistress''s voice was crisp and severe. "Here is your map. You will see three markings indicating the location of the three flags you must collect. Return here with all three flags within three days. You may take whatever weapons you wish into the forest, but you may not take any food, water, or camping gear. Do you have any of these forbidden items on you?"


    "No," Zeke answered honestly.


    The Headmistress looked him up and down sharply, her eyes glowing briefly with what he assumed was a detection spell. After a moment, she nodded.


    "Very well. Then let us begin." She turned to a small gate set in the wall. It was rusty and overgrown, and the path beyond looked rough and rarely used. "When you set foot through that gate, you will have exactly three days to return. Make the most of the time."


    "I will," Zeke said simply.


    Ralph called out, "Show them what House Godfrey is made of!"


    Elise added, "We''ll be waiting for you!"


    Zeke nodded to his friends, then drew in a deep breath. He stepped up to the gate and placed his hand upon it, paused for a moment, and then pushed it open and stepped through.


    Almost instantly, the air itself seemed to change. The trees of the woods, even the parts closest to the Academy (which weren''t considered the dark parts) were ancient and twisted, with gnarled branches that seemed to reach for him.


    They grew far apart, though, with only brush and saplings filling the space between. Zeke closed the gate, then took a few steps and pulled out the map.


    "Take your time," Adrian had counseled him back in the library. "More than a few cadets over the years have failed because they slipped and broke an ankle, or got lost. The march could technically be completed in a day and a half for someone experienced. Get your bearings first, then move."


    Zeke studied the map carefully. The three flags were positioned in three of the many areas of the Academy grounds.


    One was in the Dark Forest, one was in the desert (officially known as the Red Wastes), and the third was located in the Old Forest. The Old Forest flag was closest, due west.


    The map didn''t have many details, but it did show a small trail leading in that direction, across the river. Zeke took a deep breath, then started westward.


    Because of the course of the river, he would have to cross it twice: once at the beginning and once near the end. Thankfully, the path in that area was easy to follow, and he soon came to a stone bridge that spanned the raging waters.


    He paused for a moment, looking down into the churning river. Directly below, he could see the ancient net, green with moss and barnacles, as well as a steep path climbing the walls of the twenty-foot cliffs.


    "Not planning to test that net today," he muttered to himself with a small smile, then quickly crossed the bridge and continued down the path.


    The path from that point became fainter and more difficult to follow. Zeke slowed his pace as he entered a section called the Training Woods, which appeared to be used for sparring practice.


    There were actually a handful of other students there as he passed through, dancing among the trees as their instructors called out orders.


    "Now the oak tree! Bohregard, on defense! Alisa, try to break his guard!"


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    Zeke nodded politely as he passed, but kept his eyes focused on the path. He could just see traces of it here and there among the undergrowth.


    "This is going to be the most important part," Adrian''s voice echoed in his memory. "It seems easy, but it''s not. If you hit the Old Forest in the wrong place, you''ll have an impossible time of it. Take the Training Woods slowly, and find the right path."


    Suddenly, Zeke realized he couldn''t see the path ahead, and he frowned. That was a problem.


    His eyes swept back and forth over the woods, and he backed up a few steps. Where had it gone? There! He caught sight of an old tree root where a divot in the wood showed where it had grown to accommodate an ancient footpath.


    Quickly, he jumped over it and continued, striking through the woods at a steady pace.


    The further he went, the thicker the trees became. He was starting to wonder if he had reached the Old Forest when he saw a small stone wall running through the woods.


    It was only a couple feet high and crumbling into dust. An ancient gate loomed ahead, and beyond that, the trees grew far thicker.


    "And that''s my goal," he murmured. "Let''s get to it."


    In the Old Forest, the trees grew much closer together, and the path became rougher. The ground was rockier, and the sunlight more sparse.


    The faint light filtering through the trees seemed somehow more distant, and he shivered as he heard something roar in the distance. Adrian hadn''t had time to discuss exactly what sorts of creatures he might find there, but Zeke gathered there were some truly formidable threats.


    <b>¡¸???????????????? ????????????¡¹</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Old Forest - Interior¡¿


    </b>


    <b>¡¾Threat Level: Moderate¡¿</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Wildlife: Active¡¿</b>


    Onward the path went. Strange things loomed out of the depths.


    He caught sight of old buildings and crumbling piles of stones and mortar, and wondered about their history, but knew he didn''t have time to stop and investigate. Finally, ahead of him, he caught sight of a small clearing and a flash of red.


    "Is that...?" he quickened his pace, and soon entered the clearing to find a red flag fluttering from a tree branch.


    He snatched it up quickly, then held it up for inspection. The number 1 was clearly embroidered across it. He folded it carefully and tucked it into his pocket.


    "One down," he murmured with satisfaction. "That wasn''t so hard."


    Of course, he knew there was a good chance this was intentional. Make him feel confident to lower his guard.


    He checked his map, then looked up at the sky. It was nearing noon, and he needed to head north and slightly east.


    And this time, there was no path.


    He took a slow breath as he realized how difficult the next portion would be. Still, there was nothing to do but forge ahead. He struck off slowly into the woods, moving north and east as best he could.


    With the dense trees surrounding him and the sun nearly directly overhead, it was almost impossible to maintain his direction. The few beams of sunlight that managed to pierce the canopy did little to help orient him.


    He was also beginning to feel both hungry and thirsty, which only complicated matters.


    "Alright. So now we''re really starting to get challenging," he said to himself. "Let''s see what we can do about this."


    Thankfully, Adrian had taught him a useful trick involving tree trunks. Moss tends to grow mostly on the northern side of trees, which, while not a perfect indicator, did help him keep moving in the right direction.


    He also kept his eye out for a particular type of flower that grew in the area.


    "There we go," he said when he spotted one. It had blue petals forming a cup-like shape.


    He plucked one of the flower cups and lifted it to his mouth, allowing the trapped dew to trickle down his throat. It wasn''t much, but it refreshed him, and he continued onward. Food was harder to come by, but he managed to scavenge a few berries as he went.


    "Remember, food isn''t your concern," Adrian had warned. "Three days without water, and you''ll be dead. Three days without food, and you''ll just have a renewed appreciation for the dining hall upon your return. Many a candidate has lost precious hours trying to bag a deer or pheasant."


    Using the moss technique to navigate through the woods, he moved along at a steady pace, collecting the dew-filled flowers whenever he found them.


    Finally, as evening approached, he caught sight of a break in the trees ahead and quickened his pace. He stepped out to find himself looking across the Red Wastes, and his jaw dropped.


    Even in the fading light, the Red Wastes were impressive. It was an artificial desert, constructed using the professors'' magic in the early days of the Academy.


    Though only a few miles across, it was completely barren, with only red rocks broken here and there by red sand. Zeke paused, then glanced up at the darkening sky.


    Best to camp here, he decided. He would tackle the Red Wastes when the sun rose the next day.


    Night in the forest brought new challenges. Adrian hadn''t had time to cover camping techniques or fire-building in detail, and although Zeke was sure he could have been quite comfortable with the proper knowledge, he had to make do.


    He settled into the crook of a large tree and kept his sword at the ready. The night seemed to come alive around him with rustling, chittering, and the occasional distant howl.


    He dozed off and on, waking at the slightest noise.


    A few times, he heard something large moving through the underbrush nearby. He gripped his sword tightly, ready to defend himself, but whatever it was moved on without approaching.


    After what felt like an eternity, the eastern sky began to lighten.


    Zeke rose stiffly, muscles protesting after the uncomfortable night. He stretched, then gathered as many of the blue flowers as he could find.


    The morning dew had filled them to capacity, and he drank deeply before facing the desert.


    "Time to see what I''m made of," he said, looking out across the harsh landscape ahead.


    With determined strides, he set off into the Red Wastes. The moment he stepped across the boundary, he felt the air grow arid and his skin turn flaky.


    The magic that had created this place did more than just alter the landscape¡ªit affected the entire environment. Knowing he had limited time, he pressed onward as the sun began to beat down mercilessly.


    The greatest challenge was mental, and Zeke focused on keeping his wits about him. Heat waves rose before him, but he was somewhat encouraged by the fact that he could see the Dark Forest on the far side.


    If he''d been forced to spend much longer in the desert, it would have been a different story, but he only needed to cross it. That shouldn''t be too hard... right?


    It might have been easy, had the terrain not been so treacherous.


    Though it was only a few miles, it suddenly felt like much more. Ravines appeared without warning, forcing him to climb down and then back up again.


    Sand pits loomed in front of him, threatening to swallow him and forcing him to take lengthy detours. He could see a black pillar of stone ahead that marked the location of the flag, but it didn''t seem to get any closer no matter how hard he pushed.


    "Come on!" he growled. "Don''t give up now!"


    His determination remained solid. When he finally reached the black pillar and found a tattered red flag labeled "2" fluttering in the wind, he snatched it up with a triumphant grin.


    Two down. One to go. The sun was still climbing toward noon, and he turned east once again, pressing onward with renewed energy.


    Ahead of him, the trees of the Dark Forest loomed, and he heard the roar of the river in the distance. His mouth was dry, and he felt his pace beginning to slow as the relentless sun sapped his strength.


    "Keep going," he told himself firmly. "Almost there."


    His foot slipped on loose stone, and he collapsed onto the red rocks. His palms were sliced on the sharp edges, and he gritted his teeth.


    "I am not going down here!"


    He forced himself back to his feet and staggered forward once more. Each step came slowly, painfully.


    When he encountered obstacles, he had to force himself through with sheer willpower. Still, onward he went.


    "I''m not getting beaten by a pile of rocks," he muttered. "Not happening."


    The heat made his head swim and his legs ache. He began to understand why the three-day march was such a challenge.


    No matter which route you chose, the desert stood in the middle, draining your strength before you could reach the next flag. But there was nothing to do but keep moving.


    In the distance, the steady roar of the river grew louder and louder, bringing a smile to his face.


    He was almost there.


    It was around three o''clock in the afternoon when he reached the edge of the desert. A wall of red stone boulders, some dozens of feet tall, marked the boundary, with dark trees growing between them.


    A few paths wound through the area, and he slipped through, feeling the air grow more humid as he passed beyond the barrier.


    Emerging from the rocks, he found himself standing on the edge of a cliff thirty feet above the raging river. A narrow rope bridge led across to the other side, though a single glance revealed it was extremely rickety.


    Down a narrow path, a series of stepping stones offered another crossing option. And on the far side...


    Zeke''s eyes narrowed. On the opposite bank stood Diocletian de''Minziar, staring at him defiantly.


    The boy slowly raised his hand, revealing he was holding the third flag, then turned and walked into the Dark Forest with a mocking flourish.


    <b>¡¸?????????????????? ????????????¡¹</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Objective: Retrieve third flag from Diocletian¡¿


    </b>


    <b>¡¾Flag location: Dark Forest¡¿


    </b>


    <b>¡¾Remaining time: 1.5 days¡¿</b>


    Zeke felt a flash of anger and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. This complicated things significantly. Now he''d have to pursue Diocletian through the Dark Forest to retrieve the final flag.


    "Of course it couldn''t be that simple," he muttered, eyeing his options for crossing the river.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    </b>


    <b>[Capture the Flag: Get the third flag from Diocletian]</b>

 12. Hunter and Hunted

    <b>[Scene Loading...]</b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Estate - Dark Forest Crossing]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: August 24, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    Zeke''s mouth was bone dry, and he glanced down at the stepping stones below. Every part of him wanted to descend the steep path down to the raging waters below, but Adrian''s voice came back to him.


    "When you get out of the desert, you''re going to want a drink, and you''re going to want it badly. Don''t take the bait that they place in front of you. That''s what did in your brother. Take the rope bridge, it''s sturdier than it looks. I''m not saying that you couldn''t get across the water down below, but those rocks are slick. Push through the pain and the thirst."


    Zeke squared his shoulders and started across the rope bridge. It swayed and rocked, but the wooden planks held. On the other side, as he staggered off of it, he caught sight of Diocletian darting off into the woods, away from the path.


    He started to move after him, then paused.


    "One misstep," he murmured. "I''ll get you."


    <b>¡¸?????????? ????????????????¡¹</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Target: Diocletian de''Minziar¡¿</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Direction: Northeast, off-path¡¿


    </b>


    <b>¡¾Tracking Difficulty: Moderate¡¿</b>


    Diocletian had left the path near a massive oak tree, the sort that was covered in knots and knobs and scars. Zeke made his way up to the tree and looked down at the forest floor where Diocletian had run off.


    It sloped downward, running off toward the castle, and he noticed a few boot prints in the mud. He frowned, then suddenly caught sight of something.


    In the knots of the old tree, there were small pools of water.


    It wasn''t much, but he drank deeply, feeling refreshed. With that, he started off slowly through the woods, following the trail to the best of his ability.


    Thankfully, Diocletian seemed to be no woodsman and made steadily back toward the castle. Zeke''s eyes narrowed as he went along.


    "I bet he''s trying to get back to the castle before me," Zeke thought. "He''ll have the flag inside the walls, and then when I show up without it, I''ll be disqualified."


    It made a lot of sense, and it almost made Zeke push on far faster, but he held himself back. The footprints were still clear, and here and there were broken branches.


    No need to rush and lose the trail.


    And then, suddenly, he saw something that turned his blood to ice. On a tree trunk, just next to Diocletian''s footprints, were scrape marks.


    Claw marks.


    From somewhere ahead, he heard a scream that broke the forest''s eerie quiet, and Zeke quickened his pace. Now, there were tracks beside Diocletian''s prints.


    Large tracks, possibly from a wolf. He didn''t think it was from a bear, though he couldn''t be sure. He could practically feel eyes on the back of his head and knew there was every chance that he was being tracked as well.


    He kept his hand on his sword, though he knew better than to draw it before it was needed. One wrong step, and he could fall upon his own blade.


    Almost thirty minutes after he heard the scream, he came to a small clearing. The ground here was a mess, as claws and boots alike had torn it up.


    There was blood and fur on the ground, as well as¡ª


    Zeke''s eyes opened wide. Clinging to a tree branch was the third flag! It fluttered softly in the wind, and he snatched it up quickly.


    Stuffing it into his pocket, he smiled and turned toward the castle.


    Except that...


    Well...


    He groaned, knowing that he couldn''t just leave Diocletian alone in the woods. Whatever trouble the other boy had brought on himself, leaving him to die wasn''t the answer.


    Slowly, he turned in the direction of the prints and followed them off through the woods.


    It seemed that one of the two of them had been injured, or possibly both. There was a lot of blood splattered here and there.


    The ground was torn up, and the marks of a sword showed here and there on the tree trunks. Diocletian had put up a fight, at least.


    "Diocletian!" Zeke called out, but only forest sounds answered him.


    And then, suddenly, the tracks came to an end.


    They were on the side of a hill, amidst some rocks, and Zeke frowned and glanced around. The tracks simply came to an end; there was no rhyme or reason for it.


    Had Diocletian climbed a tree? Been carried off?


    Then, suddenly, he heard a growl from the trees.


    Zeke spun and drew his sword, lifting it up. A wolf, a massive one, slowly stepped forward. Its shoulder nearly reached Zeke''s chest, and it snarled, blood in its eyes.


    Zeke raised his sword and drew in a deep breath.


    "Activate Emblem: Heart of a Warrior."


    Strength flowed through his body, warming him from the inside like liquid fire. The wolf lunged. Its jaws flashed through the air, and Zeke lunged at it.


    His body seemed to move of its own accord, faster and more precise than he''d ever been before. They came crashing together in a flurry of claws and steel.


    The wolf collapsed, howling, while Zeke was sent staggering backward. He fell amidst the rocks, stumbling on the uneven ground.


    Then the earth gave way beneath him.


    There was a narrow crack in the ground, only a foot across, invisible unless you fell into it. He tumbled down into the darkness and hit cold stone a second later, groaning softly.


    Overhead, he heard the wolf''s dying cries, and he sighed and sat up.


    "You there?"


    Zeke froze at the sound of Diocletian''s voice coming through the darkness.


    "So you are alive?" Zeke called back, squinting to see through the gloom.


    "Yes," Diocletian snapped. "And don''t even begin to blame me for this, because¡ª"


    Zeke turned in the direction of the voice and threw a punch. He connected with something, and Diocletian cried out in pain.


    "Hey!"


    "Don''t try to pass the buck on this," Zeke growled, slowly climbing to his feet. He began to focus his aura into his hand, and just like always, it began to glow, providing a dim light in the darkness.


    He found himself in a small hallway of sorts, the stone walls covered in strange runes and carvings. It seemed to slope upward in one direction, and he started walking that way.


    Diocletian rubbed his cheek, where Zeke had hit him, and then stood up.


    "I should kill you, you know," Diocletian muttered.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    "No, you shouldn''t," Zeke said firmly. "And the last time I checked, I''m the one saving you, so don''t even try that."


    "You shouldn''t be here," Diocletian snarled.


    "And if I really shouldn''t be, then the Trials will weed me out," Zeke replied. "You trying to muck things up will only make a bigger mess of things."


    Diocletian muttered something under his breath, but Zeke didn''t hear what it was. He also didn''t care. He was furious, and the only reason he didn''t attack Diocletian then and there was because he knew it was wrong.


    It would have been easy, though. So easy, and no one would have ever needed to know.


    <b>¡¸???????????????????????? ?????????????? ????????????????????¡¹


    </b>


    <b>¡¾Location: Unknown Ancient Tunnel¡¿</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Threat Level: Unknown¡¿</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Exploration Status: Ongoing¡¿</b>


    They pressed onward, the path climbing steadily upward. Zeke could hear rumblings from deeper within the tunnel, far behind them, and had the feeling that they had very limited time before they would have overstayed their welcome.


    Here and there, tree roots grew down through the ceiling, some of which twitched in their direction as the two boys walked past.


    "What is this place?" Zeke asked, examining the strange carvings on the walls. They depicted creatures he''d never seen before, with too many limbs and eyes.


    "How should I know?" Diocletian replied. "I fell in just like you did."


    "These tunnels look ancient," Zeke observed. "Maybe older than the Academy itself."


    "Great. Historic. Can we focus on getting out?"


    As they moved deeper into the tunnels, the rumbling behind them grew louder. The passageway widened in places, and they passed several side corridors that seemed to lead deeper into the earth.


    Zeke made sure to keep to the path that sloped upward, hoping it would lead them back to the surface.


    "Look at these," Zeke said, pausing to examine a particularly detailed set of carvings. They showed robed figures kneeling before what appeared to be a massive tree. "I wonder what they were worshipping."


    "I don''t care if they were worshipping cheese," Diocletian snapped. "Keep moving."


    Finally, they reached a large antechamber. There were skeletons scattered all about, and a doorway that was covered in vines.


    Zeke knew instantly that it would be almost impossible to see from the outside. He started in that direction, only for a shadow to fall across the door from the outside.


    "What''s that?" Diocletian murmured, his voice suddenly quiet.


    "I don''t know," Zeke muttered. There was a sharp sniff, and with a snarl, a wolf slowly strode through the curtain of vines.


    It was the same one that they had been fighting, that much was instantly obvious. Blood matted its fur, and it gazed at them with an intense hatred.


    Diocletian trembled, and he shook his head.


    "I can''t do this," he murmured. "I''m only certified against D-ranked monsters, and that thing is a C-rank!"


    Zeke snorted. "Do I have to do everything around here?"


    He looked down at his glowing palm, then bent down and scooped up a small piece of rock. It was about the same size as one of the spheres from Aura Infusion class, and the wolf snarled at the movement.


    As it started to bound forward, Zeke threw the stone as hard as he could, channeling his aura into it at the same time.


    ZZZZZZAT!


    His whole arm went numb, and a blast of lighting launched the rock from his palm straight through the skull of the wolf. It was sent tumbling head over heels, coming to a stop right in front of them.


    Zeke prodded the corpse with his sword, then shrugged and stepped over it.


    "There we go," Zeke said, trying not to make it too noticeable that he couldn''t move his right arm. "Come on."


    Diocletian stared at him with wide eyes. "How did you do that?"


    "Professor Gerald''s class is good for something after all," Zeke replied with a grin.


    They soon slipped out and into the woods. It was just starting to get dark, but Zeke had the distinct feeling that they shouldn''t camp anywhere.


    He could feel the forest stirring around them. It could sense blood, and it wasn''t going to hesitate to take advantage of them.


    "What now?" Diocletian murmured, looking around nervously.


    "What do you mean?" Zeke shrugged. "We keep moving. Unless you happened to bring camping gear?"


    Diocletian turned white. "I didn''t... I..."


    Zeke spent a few moments getting his bearings. It took him a few seconds to determine the direction of north, as the lack of sunlight meant that moss grew on pretty much all sides of the trees with equal abandon.


    The moment that he had his bearings, though, he started off.


    "Try to keep up," he called over his shoulder. "And stay quiet. We don''t want to attract anything else."


    They struck mostly to the south, bearing slightly back to the west. Zeke could hear the dull roar of the river and did his best to keep it off to his right, making sure that they would arrive back at the castle in the right place.


    The trees remained just as thick as ever, but as Zeke''s strength returned to his arm, he was able to make his hand light up once again.


    "You''re really determined to do this, aren''t you?" Diocletian asked as they stumbled along.


    "Yes," Zeke set his jaw. "I am."


    "Why?" Diocletian pressed. "You know what people say about House Godfrey."


    "I don''t care what they say," Zeke replied. "My family has a proud tradition of service to the realm. Whatever mistakes we''ve made, whatever enemies we''ve earned, that doesn''t change who we are."


    "And who are you exactly?" Diocletian''s tone was mocking, but there was genuine curiosity underneath.


    "I''m the guy who''s going to complete all thirty-four Trials," Zeke said simply. "And then we''ll see what people say."


    Diocletian didn''t have much more to say to that. Zeke could see dark forms moving through the trees, pacing them, but none of the forms attacked.


    He couldn''t say why, but he was grateful for the fact.


    As they continued through the forest, the night deepened around them. Through the sparse breaks in the trees, Zeke found that he could see stars here and there.


    He knew that, if he had been trained on it, he could use the stars for navigation, but he hadn''t even begun to do such research.


    "So why did you take the flag?" Zeke asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.


    Diocletian was quiet for a long moment. "My father said House Godfrey needed to be put in its place."


    "And you always do what your father says?"


    "Wouldn''t you?" Diocletian shot back. "If your father ordered you to do something?"


    Zeke thought about that. "I don''t know. I guess it depends on whether it was the right thing to do."


    "Right and wrong don''t matter much in the games nobles play," Diocletian said bitterly. "Only winning matters."


    "Is that why you''re here at the Academy? To win?"


    "Why else would anyone be here?"


    "To learn. To grow stronger. To be ready when the realm needs us."


    Diocletian laughed. "You really believe all that, don''t you? That we''re training to be heroes?"


    "I believe we''re training to be knights," Zeke replied. "What that means is up to each of us."


    They continued in silence after that. The forest began to thin around them, and as the morning light just began to dawn, they caught sight of the immense Academy wall.


    A flash of hope filled Zeke''s chest.


    "We made it," he said with a grin.


    They soon entered the Training Woods proper. Diocletian bolted on ahead, likely not wanting to be seen in Zeke''s company, and Zeke let him go.


    He was exhausted, and had little desire to push himself beyond what he had already endured.


    By the time that he arrived at the little gate, his legs felt like lead weights. He pushed through the rusty metal and staggered onto the path, looked up at the castle, and drew in a deep breath.


    "Time to claim my reward."


    <b>¡¸?????????? ??????????????????¡¹</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Flags Collected: 3/3¡¿</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Time Taken: 2 days¡¿</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Status: Success¡¿</b>


    The doors of the Headmistress''s office were closed when he made it all the way up the stairs. He knocked on them nevertheless, and they slowly opened for him.


    As he stepped inside, her voice came sharply back.


    "If you are here on anything unimportant, you had best get out of here right now," her voice punctuated the room. She was bent over her desk, furiously writing a letter. "I am afraid that I have urgent business to attend to."


    "I won''t take much of your time," Zeke replied.


    Headmistress Florence sat up so quickly that she almost fell out of her chair. Zeke approached her desk and tossed the three flags onto a bare portion of her desk, then crossed his arms.


    "As requested."


    She looked down at the flags, then back up at him. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and he shrugged.


    "You completed it in two days?" She pursed her lips. "How?"


    "I asked for advice before I entered. I listened to that advice," Zeke answered. "Not really much more to it than that. Also, I didn''t camp last night, because I was stuck in the Dark Forest. Probably shaved off twelve hours at least."


    "Hmm." The Headmistress frowned, then shrugged. "Well, now that you''ve completed your trial, I suppose I should tell you that the monsters of the Dark Forest won''t attack anyone with an E-Rank Aura. The types of monsters that will attack you become more and more powerful, the more powerful your aura becomes."


    "Then why did a wolf try to eat my face off?"


    Headmistress Florence blinked in surprise. "You were attacked by a wolf?"


    "Yes," Zeke nodded, then frowned. "Okay, so not me, but..."


    Headmistress Florence''s eyes narrowed. "There was someone else out there with you? Helping you, or hindering?"


    "Trying to kill me," Zeke said bluntly.


    "I see." The Headmistress slowly rose. "Would you like to give me a name?"


    Zeke considered this. Diocletian had tried to sabotage him, had stolen a flag and run off with it. But in the end, they''d both faced danger together and made it back alive.


    That meant something, didn''t it?


    "Nah. I think I humiliated him enough," Zeke shrugged.


    "Very well," Headmistress Florence folded her hands. "Well, I certainly must congratulate you on your accomplishment. Whether or not it was well-earned, you''ve done something that few others can claim, and I can tell that you did go through all three portions of the forest."


    "Really?" Zeke blinked in surprise.


    "You have stains on your clothes from the blue flowers of the Old Forest, you have a sunburn from the wastes, and you have dirt stains from the Dark Forest," she gestured to his disheveled appearance. "Perhaps the next Trial will knock you down. For now, your classes resume tomorrow."


    Zeke bowed his head and started to leave. As he reached the door, she called out.


    "One more thing. There has, historically, been a small token given to the members of House Godfrey who complete their first trial. You clearly don''t know about it, and I will not extend this grace in the future, but... Receive your reward."


    ¡¸?????? ???????????? ????????????????¡¹


    ¡¾Emblem: Endurance¡¿


    ¡¾Effect: Increases tolerance for heat, cold, thirst, and other environmental factors by 100%¡¿


    Zeke blinked in surprise. That would come in handy, he imagined. He nodded in gratitude to the Headmistress, then turned and walked away.


    That was one trial done. Only thirty-three more to go.


    As he made his way back to his room, he couldn''t help but smile. There had been those who thought he would fail at the first hurdle, but he''d proven them wrong.


    He still had a long way to go, but today was a victory.


    When he reached his dormitory, Ralph was waiting, pacing anxiously in their shared room.


    "You made it!" Ralph exclaimed when he saw Zeke. "And in only two days! You have to tell me everything!"


    "Tomorrow," Zeke said, collapsing onto his bed. "Right now, I need sleep."


    "But you did it, right?" Ralph pressed. "You got all three flags?"


    Zeke grinned and held up three fingers before his eyes drifted closed.


    One down. Thirty-three to go.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior


    Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    </b>


    <b>[Back to Business: Return to classes]</b>

 13. Challenges

    <b>[Scene Loading...]</b>


    <b>


    [Location: Leoncrest Castle - Dormitory]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: August 25, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    Word of Zeke''s exploits spread quickly through the castle, and by that evening, he had no few people trying to find an excuse to bump into him in the cafeteria or the halls. Some people were interested in making an alliance, others seemed more interested in picking a fight.


    He caught sight of Diocletian in the distance, scowling at him. He was pretty sure that, whatever else may have happened in the woods, Diocletian hadn''t exactly received a burst of humility from the experience.


    If anything, Zeke''s rival now looked all the more determined to crush him underfoot.


    The next morning, Zeke groaned and rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a dull thud. He climbed to his feet, and across the room, Ralph groaned and stretched.


    "Oh, I''m sore. Never go dancing with a girl who specializes in swordsmanship. She''ll be way lighter on her feet than you are."


    "I''ll keep that in mind," Zeke rolled his eyes and stood up. He checked his class schedule and sighed. "Now I have to go make up work from missing the last three days."


    "Two days," Ralph pointed out.


    "I was in the woods for two days. Then I rested yesterday," Zeke commented.


    "Alright, alright," Ralph shrugged. "Have it your way. You missed a big fight, though, while you were gone. Would have been the first day. Whole bunch of House Byron guys got into it with some guys from House Faure. Kinda fun to watch."


    "I thought those two houses were generally allied," Zeke frowned.


    "Depends on how you count it. They tolerate each other," Ralph shrugged. "Two of them started arguing over some girl, and then all their buddies came to join in, and pretty soon, it''d turned into a full-on brawl. I had a front-row seat, and let me just tell you, it was something else to watch. One guy took a sword clean through his hamstring."


    "I can''t say that I''m sad that I missed it," Zeke stretched, then started to head out for class. "You coming?"


    "I''m skipping breakfast," Ralph yawned. "I''d rather have a few more minutes of shut-eye. Don''t worry, I''ll make it to my first class."


    He flopped back onto the bed, and Zeke just shook his head. He made his way down and grabbed a bite to eat, then made his way up toward Aura Infusion.


    ¡¸?????????? ????????????????¡¹


    ¡¾Morning: Aura Infusion¡¿


    ¡¾Mid-Morning: Politics¡¿


    ¡¾Late Morning: History of Athia I¡¿


    ¡¾Afternoon: Swordsmanship¡¿


    The class was mostly eventless, as they were primarily trying to make their inkwells levitate without spilling ink everywhere. Zeke utterly failed in this task and stained his robes in the process, but so did several other people, so he managed to skate by.


    As they left that class, and he headed onward to Politics, Elise caught his arm and pulled him off to the side.


    "Hey," she murmured. "Everyone''s saying that Diocletian snuck into the Dark Forest to try and steal the flag, so you couldn''t complete the trial?"


    "Yeah," Zeke sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "He might have gotten away with it, too. My guess is that he doesn''t know how to navigate forest trails and was using the river to guide himself. It runs right between the two locations, it would have been the easiest way to make sure that he didn''t get lost. I probably just stumbled onto him by dumb luck."


    "Well, whatever the case, I''m glad you made it out alright," she smiled. "I''d love to catch up with you a bit, if you''re up for it. Maybe in a few nights?"


    "Yeah, I''d like that," Zeke nodded. "There''s actually something strange I wanted to ask you about too. The Headmistress mentioned something about aura levels and monsters that''s been bothering me."


    Elise''s eyes lit up. "I''ve been researching the Academy grounds in the library. The old texts mention all sorts of hidden places and magical protections. We could compare notes?"


    "Perfect," Zeke grinned. "How about the night after tomorrow in the west reading room? It''s quieter there."


    "It''s a date," Elise said, then blushed slightly. "I mean, not a date-date, just, you know. Well. Yeah."


    "I know what you meant," Zeke laughed. "See you then."


    They went their separate ways. As they left, though, something continued to nag at him. If what the Headmistress had said was true regarding their aura levels, then neither himself nor Diocletian should have been attacked by the wolf.


    Either the magic didn''t work as perfectly as everyone thought, or someone else had been in the woods with them. Had Diocletian been working with someone? Or had there been a third party? Zeke didn''t have a clue, and it made him nervous.


    In any case, Zeke soon wound up in his Politics class, which was taught by a professor from House Hobbson. Zeke hated every aspect of the class, as they covered everything from flower arrangements to the way that you might orient your feet.


    Today''s lesson was particularly excruciating as Professor Hobbson spent thirty minutes explaining the exact proper angle one should hold a teacup at formal Senate gatherings ¨C apparently a full 37 degrees from vertical, no more and no less, with the pinky extended precisely two knuckles'' length from the handle.


    "Remember, students," the professor intoned gravely, "Duke Matterhorn once spilled tea on the Prime Minister''s wife by holding his cup at 42 degrees, and House Matterhorn did not receive a Senate committee appointment for the next seventeen years!"


    Zeke struggled to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head. Really, the class was more about etiquette at balls and things than actual Senate stuff.


    Objectively, Zeke had done quite well in politics by just speaking his mind and making demands, which meant that he only paid enough attention in the class to pass, as he had very little interest in using it in real life.


    After politics was history, which was painful. As with all his other classes, it was an upper-level class, covering the minor points of the Gorian Dynasty, when the now-extinct House Goria had managed to secure hold of the Senate Chamber, as well as the imperial throne, for almost two centuries.


    That particular dynasty had apparently been the reason that the Emperor had been reduced to a mere figurehead. More than that, Zeke could barely keep straight, as they memorized countless dates and important people.


    Some of the battles they covered sounded cool, but it was reduced to such a scientific analysis that he could hardly find reason to care.


    After that was lunch, and then after that was his sparring class. It was by far the longest class, running for several hours into the afternoon, and was designed to push them to their limits.


    It met out in the yard, on a large court that seemed to have been designed for that purpose. As Zeke walked up to it that day, all eyes turned in his direction, and the professor nodded to him.


    "Ahh! The prodigal returns to us, after his long, leisurely hike through the woods. Tell us, how was your first trial?"


    Zeke sighed and looked at the professor in some annoyance. The lad was young enough to be a student himself, a boy from House Reinfir. An older student, perhaps, but a student nonetheless.


    Zeke shrugged and walked out onto the court, even as a new student approached.


    No, not a new student. Someone he had seen before. He had seen her in the library that first day, with another girl. What had her name been? And what was she doing here?


    The professor seemed to have the same opinion, and he scowled at her.


    "Victoria! What are you doing?"


    "Relieving you of your post," she shrugged. "You''re being recalled to the family Estate."


    "What?" he snapped. "Why?"


    "You''ll have to ask your uncle," she shrugged.


    "But I. Ugh."


    Zeke had a hard time feeling sorry for him as he slowly slumped and trudged away. The rest of the students in the class turned to face the newcomer, and Victoria planted her feet and turned to them.


    Her hair was jet-black, and drawn behind her head in a ponytail. She wore a grand sword at one side, set with glittering gemstones, just like the first time that Zeke had encountered her.


    Now, though, she also wore a sword on her right side, one that seemed more simple and practical.


    "For those of you who don''t know me, my name is Victoria Reinfir. I''m currently a third-year student in the Swordsman line of study, and I''ll be taking over this class as part of my advanced curriculum. You may address me as either Professor or Instructor, either are technically correct. Now, let''s begin. What have you been taught so far this year?"


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    It didn''t take long to run through everything that they had gone through. As it turned out, their previous professor apparently hadn''t been pushing them quite far enough. Victoria sighed in frustration, then shrugged.


    "Alright. That''s life, sometimes, and I had a few professors like that in my first few years. We''ll just have to start back at the beginning. The main focus of this class is on honing your physical body. Your aura can do a lot of things, but there will be situations when you can''t rely upon it. Hopefully you never wind up in a situation where your Aura breaks. Even without that, though, there will still be times when you''ve exhausted it. Beyond that, having a honed body, and honed reflexes, will combine with your aura to make you even stronger. With that being said, any display of aura manipulation in this class will be met with demerits and punishments. Am I clear?"


    Everyone nodded. Zeke felt a small smile breaking across his face. That much, at least, would be easy! Victoria nodded, then stepped off to one side.


    "Alright, then! Raise your sword. Three quick strikes! No, no, not like that. Here," she grabbed one of the older students in the class and placed him in front of her. "Like this. Down. Left. Right. Just like that. Everyone, repeat!"


    Zeke nodded and put himself through the motions. The basic pattern wasn''t difficult to follow, and he found himself quickly falling into rhythm.


    His muscles remembered the motions from his childhood sword practice with Artax, though it had been years since his last formal lesson. Victoria began to walk up and down the rows of students, watching their form with critical eyes.


    "Again! Looking good. Again! No, not quite like that. Too sloppy, the tip of your sword is wavering too much. Again! Almost. Remember, it''s the tip of your sword that will likely do the most damage. The edge of your blade can be pretty blunt, so long as it has a pointy end. Again!"


    She reached Zeke, and her eyes narrowed. She slowly took a step back and nodded to him.


    "Strike."


    He slashed with the sword, doing his best. Quicker than his eye could follow, she drew her own dull sword and whacked him across the wrist. It stung, but didn''t cut, and he noticed that it was actually quite blunt.


    "If you had done it properly, you would have blocked that attack," her voice was curt. "Again."


    Zeke let out a long breath, then nodded. He was whacked twice more, but on the third try, he just managed to block it.


    A small smile flickered across his face, and she nodded.


    "Good. You''re getting better. Don''t let your guard down again."


    Zeke nodded, and she slowly walked back to the front of the class.


    "Alright! Three more times!" When that was done, and everyone was gasping slightly, she crossed her arms.


    "Now, everyone line up on the far end! We''re running sprints. Three steps forward, execute the strikes. Five steps! Strike! Charge at me! Strike!"


    Zeke''s eyes went wide as the students threw themselves into a brutal exercise that made them lunge forward, then backward, then forward again, executing the same strikes over and over and over again at every command.


    His legs burned, and his arms soon did, too. Off to his right, one of the students doubled over, gasping, and received a sharp whack with Victoria''s sword for it.


    "None of that! In battle, you''d be dead. Fight through the exhaustion. It''ll kill you too, but much slower."


    She continued to run them for several long minutes. Finally, she shrugged and ordered them to stop. Zeke did his best to remain standing, even as a number of the others sat down.


    "Looking good," she slowly strode among the lines. Suddenly, she lashed out at Zeke. He reacted on instinct and just managed to block her sword with the same strike pattern they had just learned.


    Her eyes widened slightly, and she gave a nod.


    "Not bad," with that, she moved on. Another student, sitting on the ground, received a sharp whack across the back of the neck, and another one was struck on the arm when he didn''t raise his sword fast enough.


    Even resting, there were standards that needed to be adhered to.


    The exercise continued for the next several long hours. Resting, and then running drills, and then running again, it wore them all down to the bone.


    When it was finally done, everyone began to stagger back to the castle, groaning about how much pain they were in.


    "Good work, everyone!" Victoria called out. "At least for the first day! We''ll complete our review by the end of this week, and then next week, we''ll try to get started on a more intense course! Enjoy the easiness of it while you can!"


    Everyone groaned, and Zeke shook his head. As he turned away, though, Victoria called out to him.


    "De''Godfrey! Come here for a second."


    Zeke nodded and slowly walked over to her. She sat down on a large stone and motioned for him to sit down on another that was only a few feet away.


    He did so, and she raised an eyebrow.


    "You''re a quick study, for someone who''s never picked up a sword before."


    Zeke frowned. "You think I''ve never picked up a sword before?"


    "Your stance is terrible. I''ve seen commoners who picked up better swordsmanship just by fighting off wolves and things," she shrugged. "Frankly, you look like you shouldn''t be here."


    "Trust me, I''ve heard quite a bit of that," Zeke muttered.


    "I''m sure," Victoria paused for a second, then nodded to him. "But as I said, you''re a quick study. I think you''ll wash out, but it impressed me. I''m going to give you a chance if you want to take it."


    "What sort of a chance?" Zeke was instantly interested.


    "I run a sparring session every morning. 5:00 sharp," she answered. "We meet on the southern lawn, third courtyard. It''s nothing intense, just something I do for some of the younger students who need a little bit of help."


    Zeke''s eyes narrowed. "Let me guess. A requirement for your more advanced classes?"


    "Something like that," she nodded and crossed her arms. "Just come. I can get you through a lot of the basics that you''ve missed."


    Zeke let out a long breath, and he nodded. It sounded terrible to him, particularly since he was already working overtime trying to learn Aura control, but he also knew that he needed it.


    He was far behind all the other students, and the Trials were only going to get worse.


    "I''d appreciate that. Thanks," he murmured.


    "I wouldn''t have offered if you didn''t show promise," she climbed to her feet. "Now get out of here."


    Zeke nodded, turned, and started walking back across the lawn. His whole body ached, but he felt a flash of hope.


    He hadn''t done terribly, not by a long shot, and it seemed like Victoria respected him at least a small amount. Not that he knew her well enough to know if her respect was something worth earning, of course, but it was nice, at least.


    Now, his schedule looked something like training in the morning, then classes, then Aura control. Oh! And he had a meeting with Elise in just a few days.


    At least he wasn''t going to be bored.


    The next morning came far too early, and Zeke found himself stumbling across the dew-soaked grass toward the southern lawn. The sky was just beginning to lighten at the edges, but stars still shone overhead.


    The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of pine from the distant forest.


    As he approached the third courtyard, he could make out several figures already gathered. Victoria stood at the center, her black hair pulled back in its usual tight ponytail.


    Around her were five other students, all looking just as bleary-eyed as Zeke felt.


    "Ah, the champion of the first Trial decides to grace us with his presence," Victoria called as he approached. "Just in time."


    Zeke nodded, too tired to come up with a witty response. He took his place in the line with the other students.


    "For those joining us for the first time," Victoria addressed the group, "this is not an official class. There are no grades, no credits, and no leniency. You''re here because you need the help, and I''ve decided you''re worth my time. Disappoint me, and you won''t be invited back."


    She paced before them, her steps precise and measured. "We begin with conditioning. A strong body makes for a strong warrior. Ten laps around the courtyard, then fifty pushups. Begin!"


    Without waiting to see if they complied, Victoria took off at a brisk jog. The other students followed immediately, and Zeke fell in line behind them.


    The courtyard wasn''t small, and by the fifth lap, his lungs were burning. By the eighth, his legs felt like lead weights. But he pushed through, refusing to be the first to fall behind.


    When they finished the laps, Victoria immediately dropped to the ground and began her pushups. The other students followed suit, and Zeke joined them, his arms trembling by the thirtieth repetition.


    But he finished all fifty, collapsing onto the grass when done.


    "Not bad, de''Godfrey," Victoria said, standing over him. "I half expected you to quit after the first lap."


    "Takes more than a few laps to make me quit," Zeke replied, rolling onto his back and looking up at her.


    A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "We''ll see. Up! We''re just getting started."


    The next hour was a blur of footwork drills, basic sword forms, and balance exercises. Victoria was relentless, correcting stances with sharp taps of her practice sword and demonstrating movements with fluid grace that made them look deceptively simple.


    "Your problem isn''t strength or speed," she told Zeke as she adjusted his grip on his sword. "It''s technique. You''re wasting energy with unnecessary movements. Every action should have purpose."


    She demonstrated a simple thrust, her body a perfect line from heel to sword tip. "See? Economy of motion. Try again."


    Zeke mimicked her stance, focusing on keeping his movements clean and direct. It felt unnatural at first, but when he executed the thrust, Victoria nodded.


    "Better. Still terrible, but better."


    By the time the session ended, the sun had fully risen, and students were beginning to cross the grounds toward the dining hall for breakfast. Zeke''s shirt was soaked with sweat, and every muscle in his body protested.


    "Same time tomorrow," Victoria announced. "Don''t be late."


    As the others dispersed, Zeke lingered, catching his breath. Victoria approached him, her expression unreadable.


    "Why are you really here, de''Godfrey?" she asked. "Most nobles who get into Leoncrest through family connections are content to coast through."


    "I''m not most nobles," Zeke replied. "And I didn''t get in through family connections."


    "No?" Victoria raised an eyebrow. "Then what was that speech in front of the Senate? The one where you swore to complete the 34 Trials?"


    Zeke looked at her sharply. "How did you know about that?"


    "My father sits on the Senate," Victoria said. "He was there. Said it was quite the spectacle - the second son suddenly declaring he''d complete the Trials after his brother failed."


    "I didn''t say Artax failed," Zeke said, his voice hardening.


    "No, you didn''t," Victoria conceded. "But everyone knows what happened. Socrax shattered his aura core. House Godfrey was about to lose everything until you stepped up with your grand promise."


    "It wasn''t a promise. It was an oath," Zeke corrected. "And I don''t care what everyone thinks they know. My brother is the bravest man I''ve ever known."


    Victoria studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "You really believe that, don''t you?"


    "I know it," Zeke said firmly.


    "You know, they say your brother was one of the best swordsmen to ever graduate from Leoncrest," Victoria said, her tone softening slightly.


    "He was," Zeke nodded.


    "And yet he failed against Socrax."


    Zeke felt his hands balling into fists but kept his voice steady. "Even the best can fail when they''re fighting to protect others. He made a choice to save his men rather than complete his mission. That''s not failure in my book."


    Victoria''s eyes widened slightly. "Is that what happened? The official report said¡ª"


    "The official report is wrong," Zeke cut her off. "Artax could have killed Socrax, but the dragon turned toward his men. He chose to break his own core to stop the attack and save them."


    Victoria was silent for a moment, absorbing this. "I didn''t know."


    "Most people don''t," Zeke said. "And my brother doesn''t care to correct them. He''d rather bear the shame than brag about his sacrifice."


    "That''s actually honorable," Victoria admitted.


    "That''s Artax," Zeke said simply.


    Victoria regarded him with new interest. "So the question is: what will you do when you face your own Socrax? Will you make the same choice?"


    "I hope I''ll have the courage to do what''s right when the time comes," Zeke said quietly. "But I''ll also make sure I''m strong enough that I don''t have to choose."


    Victoria held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded slightly. "A good answer. Don''t forget your footwork exercises. Practice them before you sleep tonight."


    With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Zeke alone in the courtyard. He watched her go, wondering if he''d revealed too much. Victoria Reinfir wasn''t someone he''d expected to understand his family''s situation.


    Perhaps there was more to her than her harsh exterior suggested.


    Whatever her reasons for helping him, Zeke was grateful for the training. He would need every advantage he could get if he was going to complete the remaining Trials.


    And somehow, he had a feeling that Victoria Reinfir might be just the advantage he needed.


    He headed toward the dining hall, his stomach growling. There was just enough time for a quick breakfast before Aura Infusion class, and after that workout, he was going to need it.


    Between Victoria''s morning training, Professor Gilda''s aura lessons, and his upcoming meeting with Elise, things were looking up. He might actually have a fighting chance at this after all.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior


    Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    [Early Bird: Attend Victoria''s class in the morning]</b>


    <b>


    [Alliances: Meet with Elise]</b>

 14. After Hours

    <b>[Scene Loading...]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Castle - Dining Hall]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: August 28, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    The next few days wore Zeke to his core. He was exhausted as he dropped down into a chair across from Elise at dinnertime, every part of his body aching.


    She looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled wearily back.


    "Sounds like you''ve been having quite the time," Elise commented. "Everyone''s talking about you."


    Zeke sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I suppose they say that any publicity is good publicity. Do I want to ask what they''re saying?"


    "Some people think that you''re already the greatest knight that the realm has ever seen, and you''re pushing yourself to heights that the rest of us could only imagine," Elise shrugged. "Then, others think that you''re nothing more than a weakling, and you''re doing all this extra work to avoid drowning here."


    "Hey, nothing wrong with a little bit of elbow grease," Zeke muttered. "Not my fault that I had to cram it into two months'' time instead of doing it over the course of twenty years."


    "Hey, I''m right there with you," Elise shrugged with a smile. "You''re doing well, from what I can see."


    Suddenly, her face scrunched up, and she leaned to one side. "Do you mind if we just take our food and leave?"


    Zeke glanced in the direction she was looking. He recognized her instructor, who had just entered and who was looking around sharply.


    At the same moment, he saw Diocletian slip into the room as well, along with a growing pack of cronies who seemed to be attracted to his power.


    "That works for me," he nodded. "Let''s go."


    They lost no time getting out of there, and quickly rose and made their way to the exit. There, a handful of wooden platters stood at the ready, and they quickly transferred their food from their ceramic plates to the more durable wooden ones, then made their escape.


    Zeke thought he heard someone call out after them, and Elise waved at him.


    "Hurry!"


    They dashed ahead, then ducked into a dark doorway. There was a moment of breathless anticipation, and footsteps echoed behind them.


    "Elise?" The instructor called out. After a long moment, the woman hmphed, then walked away.


    The two of them let out a sigh of relief, and started walking along.


    Neither one of them asked the other where they wanted to go, but by some common consensus, they wound up back in Zeke''s room. Inside, once the door was shut, it felt like they had a bit of privacy, and Zeke sighed and sat down at his desk while Elise sat down on Ralph''s bed.


    "So what''s the deal with your instructor, anyway?" Zeke asked as he started to munch on his meal of chicken and vegetables. It was quite good, seasoned with some sort of sweet (and yet spicy) flavor that he didn''t recognize.


    "Oh, she''s just worried about me," Elise sighed. "All the commoners have one. The assumption is that we don''t know our left foot from our right, or how to talk to anyone, or how to behave in society without grabbing pitchforks and torches and charging the nearest noble to overthrow them. Most of the instructors for the other commoners I know are actually pretty nice, and have really done a good job helping them to adjust, because it is an adjustment, but mine? She seems to think that I''m totally and utterly incompetent in every sense of the word."


    "I''m sorry to hear that," Zeke sighed as Elise started in on her food. After a moment, he flashed a smile. "Does that mean that you don''t want to grab pitchforks and torches and overthrow all the nobles?"


    She laughed and shook her head. "Actually, peasant life wasn''t that bad at all. From what I can tell, it gets stereotyped as this hard and cruel life, and I''ll admit that having servants at your beck and call is pretty nice, but living out there on the farm was rather peaceful.


    We had a community of people in the area who helped out with things. There was one family that had something like six milk cows, and they made all the butter and cheese for the area... And then we had a wheat field and made bread, and there was another family that specialized in vegetables...


    We didn''t have storehouses full of food and treasure, but we never went hungry, either."


    "Huh," Zeke frowned and leaned back in his chair. "Interesting."


    "So how was your life, growing up in a castle?" She asked with a twinkle in her eye. "Every whim and appetite able to be pleased at a moment''s notice?"


    Zeke had to laugh, and he shook his head. "Actually, it was pretty miserable."


    "Really? But you had servants and feasts and everything," Elise said, her eyes wide with surprise.


    "Oh, sure, there was plenty of food," Zeke nodded. "But our father was... strict doesn''t begin to cover it. Lord Agrian Godfrey believes every second should be productive. No idle hands in his household."


    "What about when you were really little?" Elise asked. "Surely even your father wouldn''t expect a small child to be productive every minute."


    Zeke smiled, remembering. "That''s where Artax came in. He''d sneak me out of my lessons to go fishing or exploring in the woods. We''d climb to the highest tower and drop things onto the guards'' helmets to see what made the loudest noise."


    "No wonder you''re good at survival in the forest," Elise laughed. "You''ve been training since you were little."


    "I wouldn''t call it training," Zeke said. "Just brothers having fun. Artax taught me more about life while playing than our tutors ever did in their lessons.


    Father caught us once, building a raft to sail down the river that runs through our lands. He was furious, but Artax told him it was a practical lesson in engineering and buoyancy."


    "Did he believe that?"


    "Not for a second," Zeke grinned. "But he couldn''t argue with Artax''s logic."


    They sat and talked for several hours, about their childhoods and their various struggles and ires with the Academy. Zeke told her about his morning training sessions with Victoria and his evening aura lessons with Professor Gilda, while Elise shared stories about her magic classes and the challenges of being one of the few commoners at Leoncrest.


    "I''m really glad we''re friends," Elise said suddenly. "Most nobles don''t even look twice at someone like me."


    "Their loss," Zeke replied sincerely. "Besides, you''re helping me more than you know. All these extra classes are great, but without someone to just talk to normally, I think I''d lose my mind."


    Elise smiled, and Zeke realized he''d completely lost track of time. Suddenly, they heard several shouts of laughter from outside.


    It was followed by the booming of closing doors, and Elise''s eyes went wide.


    "Oh no," she breathed, rushing up to the window. "It''s past curfew!"


    Zeke leapt to his feet and rushed to the door. He pressed his ear to the wood, and sure enough, a few seconds later, he heard the odd, stony footsteps that were present every night.


    Just what were they, anyway? He sighed, and Elise spun back to him.


    "What are we going to do?" She asked, worried. "If I try to sneak back, do you think they''ll accept the excuse that I just lost track of time?"


    "I doubt it," Zeke muttered. "I mean, you''re more than welcome to stay here, if you want. I apparently have an empty bed." He glanced at Ralph''s bed, then frowned. "Which also raises the question of where Ralph is."


    Elise shook her head. "I have a presentation first thing in the morning. I won''t have time to get back to my own room to get my things once the curfew lifts."


    She looked almost beside herself with worry, and Zeke sighed and crossed his arms. He didn''t know what to do, except to try and break the curfew?


    A moment later, though, something came fluttering under the door. It was a small piece of paper, folded up like a little crane, and it flapped up to land in Zeke''s hand.


    Without any input on his part, it unfolded, and Zeke frowned down at a bit of chicken-scratch writing.


    "Hey, bud! Ralph here. Got myself into a bit of a jam, and I''m afraid that I''ve gotten myself trapped in the statuary on the third floor. The one with the dragon. Any chance you could come and rescue me? Thanks heaps. Ralph."


    Zeke sighed as he read the note, and he passed it over to Elise. She frowned down at it as well, and nodded.


    "I know how to get to where he''s located."


    "Alright, then," Zeke grinned, suddenly feeling a surge of excitement rather than dread. This was exactly the kind of adventure he and Artax used to seek out. "I guess we''ll be sneaking out, after all."


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    <b>¡¸?????? ??????????¡¹


    </b>


    <b>¡¾Midnight Rescue: Save Ralph from the statuary¡¿</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Difficulty: Medium¡¿</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Reward: Unknown¡¿</b>


    The two of them quickly made their plans. Elise had a bit of magic that she thought could help them, and they crept to the door and slowly cracked it open.


    Zeke caught sight of something vanishing around the corner of the hall, something large and dark, and he shuddered. He didn''t know what it was, but he had to imagine that it would be nothing pleasant to run into.


    In any case, the path to the central staircase was clear, and he and Elise quickly slipped out and dashed into the stairwell.


    Down they went, moving quickly but quietly. At each floor, they hesitated. Zeke could hear those strange, heavy footsteps on every single level.


    They were slow, they were firm, and they just sounded to him as if they were made of stone. What was going on? He didn''t have the faintest idea...


    But he was soon to find out. When he reached the bottom of the stairs and poked his head out into the long hallway, he froze, and almost felt himself go white with fear.


    After a moment, though, all of it faded away as it was replaced by simple curiosity.


    Stalking down the hall, away from him, was a gargoyle.


    The thing was shorter than he was, only about five feet tall, but it was stooped over and carried a battle axe. Its wings were folded tightly against its back, but it looked to be able to spread them at a moment''s notice.


    Its long tail flicked this way and that, and it let out a soft growl. Zeke ducked back out of the way before it could notice him, and he gulped.


    "So that''s what makes those footsteps," he whispered to himself, suddenly understanding. All those stone statues on the castle rooftops - they came to life at night! No wonder the curfew was so strict.


    He nodded to Elise, and whispered the discovery as best he could. She nodded back, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination.


    A few seconds later, they heard the footsteps vanish into the distance, and both of them crept out.


    They moved down the hallway quickly and quietly, heading in the direction that Elise indicated. Zeke couldn''t see any more of the gargoyles, but he could hear them here and there, in the distance.


    As they neared a cross-hall, Elise held up her hand, and motioned for him to stop.


    "Just a second," she whispered. "This might sting."


    Zeke nodded and set his jaw. Even with the warning, when Elise hit him with her magic, it just about knocked him flat.


    A bolt of lightning seemed to flare through his whole body, crackling and writhing, and he gasped in silent pain. An instant later, though, he found that he could see clean through his hands.


    In fact, he could see clean through his whole body.


    Looking down, he found that a small mouse now stood on the floor where he was standing, and a second one where Elise was. The Elise-mouse darted forward, flashing across the hall, and Zeke followed.


    As he stepped out, the mouse moved along with him. It was strange, because he could still feel his feet, his arms, his legs, his head, everything, so he hadn''t actually been turned into a mouse, it just looked that way.


    In any case, as he passed through the hall, he found himself only feet in front of a gargoyle.


    Its stony eyes turned downward to look at the mouse, and it grunted softly. Idly, Zeke hoped that it wouldn''t try to eat the little critter.


    After a second, though, it grunted again and moved on, and Zeke continued his journey to the other side. The Elise-mouse ahead of him darted down the hall, but only made it a few steps before, with a burst of light, it transformed back into Elise.


    Zeke transformed back at almost the same time, and it was just as painful as before. The flash of light flickered through the halls, and he heard a grunt behind him.


    Quickly, he and Elise ducked into a darkened doorway, pressing themselves up against the wooden door.


    "Who there?" The gargoyle grunted, coming back to the hall that it had just passed. They heard an odd snuffle-sniffing noise, and it started to walk forward, thumping steadily toward them.


    "Grok! Ain''t nobody there," another gargoyle called from behind.


    "T''is. Heard something," the first gargoyle grunted.


    "Heard mouse."


    "Heard magic," the first gargoyle continued to press. "Heard naughty student. Tasty student."


    "Mouse. Come," the second gargoyle insisted.


    There was a grumble, and the first gargoyle turned around. Zeke let out a sigh of relief as he realized that they had just barely managed to get away.


    Well... They''d gotten away with that one. There were still a whole lot more out there.


    "That was close," Elise whispered. "Sorry about the illusion breaking so quickly. I''m still working on making it last longer."


    "Are you kidding? That was amazing," Zeke whispered back, his eyes bright with excitement despite the danger. "How did you learn to do that?"


    "Been practicing in secret," Elise admitted with a small smile. "Most mage students work on fireballs or lightning, but illusion magic is way more useful."


    "No argument here," Zeke nodded. "Think you can do it again if we need to?"


    "Maybe once more," Elise said. "But it takes a lot out of me."


    "Save it for an emergency then," Zeke decided. "Let''s try to sneak the rest of the way."


    They slipped out of the doorway and headed on to the statuary. It was right where Elise said it was, and the two of them stepped inside to find a number of elegantly-carved marble statues depicting warriors and scholars from the centuries.


    There was a huge, paneled dragon that wrapped around the whole upper wall, so lifelike that it almost seemed to leap off the stone. A dark figure rose up from behind one of the statues, and Ralph poked his head out.


    "Zeke! Oh, I''m so glad to see you."


    "What exactly are you doing here?" Zeke hissed.


    "Hey! I was just doing some studying, and I..." Ralph shrugged. "I fell asleep?"


    "You''ll have to do better than that," Elise raised an eyebrow. "I don''t have the most powerful lie-detection magic, but I''m not too shabby, and I can tell you''re hiding something."


    Ralph sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I... I don''t know... I may..." He sighed once more, then shrugged. "I was talking with some girl, and I think she used sleeping powder to knock me out."


    "And why, pray tell, might she have done that?" Elise pressed.


    Ralph bit his lip, then groaned. "Because I told her that I knew a trick to stay awake when hit with sleeping magic. And I do! Did. Not my fault that it didn''t work."


    He huffed and crossed his arms, and Zeke shook his head. Suddenly, they heard something out in the hall, and all three bolted back into the shadows of the statues.


    A gargoyle slowly walked past, snarling softly. It glanced into the statuary, its beady eyes roving over the area, and then stomped onward.


    "That was too close," Ralph whispered when the creature had passed. "Those things give me the creeps."


    "So," Zeke whispered back, "who was this girl who knocked you out, and why were you bragging to her about resisting sleep magic?"


    "Her name''s Lydia," Ralph admitted. "She''s from House Byron. Pretty red hair, killer smile. I was trying to impress her with stories about the special skills House Arnette nobles learn."


    "And she was so impressed she drugged you?" Elise asked skeptically.


    "She said she wanted to test my resistance," Ralph said defensively. "I figured it would be a good chance to show off. Next thing I know, I wake up alone in here with the doors locked from the outside."


    "So she trapped you in here on purpose," Zeke frowned. "Any idea why?"


    "Probably a prank," Ralph shrugged. "Or maybe she wanted to get me in trouble for breaking curfew? The Byrons and Arnettes have been feuding for generations over mining rights in the eastern mountains."


    "Or maybe she wanted you out of your room for some reason," Elise suggested, thinking. "When did this happen?"


    "Right after dinner," Ralph said. "We were supposed to study together."


    "So anyone could have been in your room for hours," Zeke realized. "We should get back and check if anything''s missing."


    The three didn''t step out again until they were certain that the danger was past. With that, Elise crept up to the door, and glanced down the hallway toward the female dorms.


    "Alright," she murmured. "I''ve got to get going. Will you two be able to get back to your own room without me?"


    "We''ll manage," Zeke nodded. "Thanks for the help, and good luck with your presentation tomorrow."


    "And thanks for the mouse trick," Ralph added with a grin. "That was incredible."


    Elise nodded and smiled, then darted away. She vanished down the hall, and was soon lost amidst the shadows. Ralph looked after her, then glanced back at Zeke.


    "You ready?"


    "I guess," Zeke muttered. "Really, though. So where''d you learn a trick to stay awake when hit with sleeping magic?"


    "It was in a cool spy book I read when I was a kid!" Ralph shrugged as they slipped out into the hall.


    "And why did you go bragging about it?" Zeke raised an eyebrow.


    "I don''t know. When you''re talking to a girl, you show off your stuff. I figured that would be a cool thing to know," Ralph answered. "I mean... If you''re a noble, people are always trying to assassinate you. It''s handy to know to help prevent that sort of thing."


    "If it works, maybe," Zeke rolled his eyes. "Now come on, and stay close to me."


    Zeke was starting to realize what the limits and patterns of the gargoyles were, and, slowly and carefully, they made their way back through the halls toward their dorm room.


    They had a few close calls - once, they had to duck into an empty classroom when a gargoyle turned unexpectedly down their corridor, and another time they froze in place for nearly five minutes while two of the stone creatures had a guttural conversation in the hallway ahead.


    But each challenge only made Zeke more determined. There was something thrilling about outsmarting the vigilant guardians, like the games he used to play with Artax, sneaking past the castle guards at home.


    By the time they reached the stairs to their tower, he had mapped most of the patrol routes in his head.


    When they finally arrived at their room, Zeke let out a gasp and flopped onto his bed, closing the door firmly behind him.


    "And we''re back," he grinned, feeling oddly exhilarated rather than exhausted.


    "Indeed we are!" Ralph flopped down, utterly unconcerned. "And hey, it''s only 9:30. Plenty of time to sleep and still wake up with enough time to do everything I need to do."


    "Check your things," Zeke reminded him, sitting up. "See if anything''s missing."


    Ralph rummaged through his possessions, checking under his bed and in his small chest of belongings. After a few minutes, he shook his head.


    "Everything seems to be here. My coin purse, my spare dagger, even my lucky gambling dice."


    "What about any papers or books?" Zeke suggested.


    Ralph''s eyes widened. "My notes! I had some notes from my uncle about special Arnette forging techniques." He dug frantically through his desk drawer, then sighed with relief. "Still here, thank goodness. Uncle would have had my head if those got out."


    "Seems like your Lydia didn''t find what she was looking for," Zeke mused. "Or maybe she was just playing a prank like you said."


    "Either way, I''m not talking to her again," Ralph declared, then paused. "Well, probably not. Unless she apologizes. She did have really pretty eyes..."


    Zeke shook his head and laughed. "You''re hopeless."


    "Speaking of hopeless," Ralph said, his tone changing to something more serious, "how are your extra classes going? Victoria''s supposed to be brutal."


    "She is," Zeke admitted. "But I''m learning a lot. And Professor Gilda''s aura lessons are helping too. I almost managed to levitate my inkwell today without spilling it."


    "Almost being the key word," Ralph teased.


    "Hey, it''s progress," Zeke grinned. "Professor Gerald actually nodded at me today instead of scowling. That''s practically a standing ovation from him."


    They talked for a while longer, sharing stories from their classes and speculating about why the gargoyles patrolled at night. Zeke found himself warming to Ralph more and more - beneath his carefree exterior, his roommate was sharper than he let on, and fiercely loyal to his friends.


    As they were getting ready for bed, Zeke remembered something. "Oh, I meant to ask - have you heard anything about a second Trial coming up? The Headmistress hasn''t mentioned anything, but it''s been almost a week since I completed the first one."


    "Nothing specific," Ralph replied, climbing under his covers. "But there''s a rumor that the second Trial is always held during the first full moon of the term. And that''s coming up in a few days."


    "Great," Zeke muttered. "Just when I''m starting to get into a routine."


    "That''s the point, isn''t it?" Ralph yawned. "They don''t want you comfortable. Comfortable knights don''t make history."


    Zeke thought about that as he stared up at the ceiling. He wasn''t here to be comfortable, after all. He was here to save his family''s honor and complete the 34 Trials.


    Tonight''s adventure with the gargoyles had been a timely reminder that Leoncrest was full of dangers and secrets - and he''d need to master them all.


    Still, though... If he ever did need to sneak out again, it was handy to know that it could be done. And with friends like Elise and even Ralph, maybe the impossible would be a little more possible after all.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior


    Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]</b>


    <b>


    [Roommate Problems: Figure out what makes Ralph tick]</b>


    <b>


    [Coming Soon: Prepare for the Second Trial]</b>

 15. Pushing Forward

    [Scene Loading...]


    [Location: Leoncrest Castle - Outer Courtyards]


    [Date: September 15, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]


    Thunder cracked overhead, and rain came pouring down as Zeke planted his feet and slashed his sword through the air. A few other students, only five or six, had come to Victoria''s early-morning class, but those that had arrived were determined, and weren''t going to be going anywhere.


    Victoria stood at the front of the courtyard, water running in rivers off her armor, her sword raised in defiance of the storm.


    "Strike! Strike now!"


    Zeke followed her instructions, launching himself through a series of drills that she had been encouraging them to follow. His limbs, becoming far more honed than they had been a month earlier, moved through the motions with ease.


    Perhaps not grace, or as much speed as he would have liked, but ease. He spun through the air, hacking and slashing as the rain came thundering down.


    He had now been at the Academy for over a month, and while he still felt out of place, he was starting to settle in.


    ¡¸?????????? ????????????????¡¹


    ¡¾Basic Swordsmanship: Improving¡¿


    ¡¾Physical Conditioning: Notable improvement¡¿


    ¡¾Time at Academy: 1 month¡¿


    The one bright side to the rain was that he wasn''t getting nearly as overheated as he sometimes did, and he certainly wasn''t going to be sweaty when he went to his classes. That said, he was going to be soaking wet, but he could deal with that much.


    After a few long moments, Victoria called out.


    "There we go! Let''s call that for a day, you''ve all done well!"


    Everyone cheered, and the others began to pack it up to head back into the Academy. Zeke frowned and glanced up at the great towers, where a clock could be seen on one of them.


    He knew it now to be Tower 8, which was the same Tower that taught smithing and other such mechanical things. There was still an hour and a half until his first class, and he approached Victoria.


    "You''re wanting more?" She raised an eyebrow.


    "This academy isn''t going to cut me any breaks," Zeke shrugged. "I can''t really afford to start cutting myself any."


    Victoria''s lips curled into an approving smile. "Well, I''m more than willing to keep going. Let''s try a few more advanced items. Plant your feet."


    She struck a moment later, and Zeke braced himself against the onslaught. She was incredibly fast, and seemed willing to give it a bit more energy now that it was just the two of them.


    Zeke was driven back under the onslaught, and as he came to a halt, gasping and panting, he looked up at her and nodded.


    "Not too bad," she frowned in approval. "Let''s see if you can do it again."


    Once more, they came crashing together. Zeke was able to hold his own for just a bit longer, and he laughed.


    "Wow! And here I thought I was doing alright."


    "You really are," she shrugged. "There''s just a lot to combat. You won''t even be close to ready for a real duel for another few years, and believe it or not, I''m a lot slower than the really good ones."


    "I believe it," Zeke answered. He paused, then chuckled. "I don''t want to believe it, but I do."


    She laughed at that, and they came crashing back together once more. Steel rang upon steel, the blows threatening to drown out the crack of thunder above.


    Zeke felt his blood pumping, his senses heightening with each exchange. There was something exhilarating about training in the storm - it made him feel like one of the legendary knights from the stories Artax used to tell him.


    As they sparred, Victoria occasionally called out corrections or praise:


    "Better footwork! Keep your weight centered!"


    "Good parry, but follow through faster next time."


    "That''s it! Use the momentum of my attack against me."


    Finally, the bell rang to announce that only one hour was left before classes, and Victoria sighed.


    "Well, I really should be going. I have some things I need to take care of before I head to my first class. Good work, though." She walked over to the side of the court, where she had set a small bag full of items.


    It was soaking wet now, and she grimaced as she picked it up and slung it over her shoulder. "You know, you should enter a tournament when the Fall Festival comes around. I bet you''d do better than you think."


    "Fall Festival?" Zeke frowned, and walked alongside Victoria as they slogged back toward the Academy. "What''s that?"


    "You haven''t heard of the Fall Festival?" Victoria glanced sharply down at him, then shrugged. "I guess you haven''t. Good to know they''re really keeping you up to date on things. As you know, the years are broken up into three-month chunks, with short breaks between each chunk.


    The biggest breaks are between the summer and fall season, and then between the fall and winter season. Winter to spring, and spring to summer? You''ve just got to suffer through with a one-week hiatus.


    Anyway, point is, there''s a festival that''s held at the end of each season to celebrate what''s happened so far that season. The fall one is really cool, there are tournaments and all sorts of neat things. I bet if you entered, you''d do better than you might think."


    "Maybe," Zeke frowned. "It''s also a chance to be humiliated in front of the whole school."


    "Do you really care about being humiliated?" Victoria asked as they stepped through the front doors of the Academy. There, the heat from several nearby hearths warmed them, while several servants came forward with towels to help them dry down.


    "Not really, not on a personal level," Zeke answered. "That said, House Godfrey is pretty weak right now. The Senate is looking for any chance at all to shut us down. I''m only here on a technicality, and if I show any weakness..."


    "They''ll ruin you," Victoria murmured. They strode through the grand entry hall, and she flashed a small smile. "You know, back when I went through my first tournament, my rival used a bit of magic to make the combat floor extra slick.


    I didn''t realize it, and she knocked me flat on my back with hardly a bit of effort. It did knock me back in the rankings for awhile. A lot of the professors considered me a failure, and gave her extra treatment because of it.


    In the end, though, it made my rise to power all the more sweet. She''s been sent back home, and I''m still here."


    Zeke nodded. "Yeah... I''d just be worried that if something like that happened to me, someone would report it as me being incompetent, and the Senate would vote to remove me from the Trials before I was killed or something, and then-"


    "Yeah, I hear you," Victoria shrugged. "Well, maybe later. The Winter Festival has a lot of competitions that don''t involve combat. Maybe you can join up with one of them."


    She slapped him on the shoulder and walked off, and Zeke sighed. He desperately wanted to join the matches in the Fall Festival, but... He did know that it was a fool''s errand.


    Diocletian had already showed himself more than willing to mess with the results of Zeke''s tests and trials, and such a public event would have been the perfect place to humiliate him.


    As Victoria disappeared around a corner, Zeke considered her words. Maybe he was being too cautious. After all, wasn''t the whole point of being here to prove himself? Hiding from challenges wouldn''t accomplish that.


    "The festival''s still a few weeks away," he thought. "I''ve got time to decide."


    In any case, Zeke dried off as best he could, and headed along toward his Aura Infusion class. Now that he had been at the school for awhile, the class... It hadn''t exactly become easier, but it wasn''t quite as impossible as it had been at first.


    He walked in, though the door of the classroom, and sat down mere instants before the bell rang. Professor Gerald De''Stragga looked up, and his eyes narrowed, no doubt annoyed that Zeke had narrowly avoided a demerit.


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    "Alright, then," he sighed and slowly climbed to his feet. "Thank you all for coming today. I know you''ve all been looking forward to the day that we start working with weapons for the first time."


    An excited murmur ran around the class. Zeke, though, winced. He didn''t at all like the idea of trying to infuse his Aura into a weapon.


    Even the small crystal balls were dangerous enough, to be given a functional blade... Well... That actually stood a chance of killing someone.


    "That is why I regret to inform you that we will not be taking up such weapons today," Professor Gerald chuckled slightly as a ripple of disappointment ran around the room. "We will, however, begin progressing in that direction. If you''ll look inside your desk, you''ll find a small buckler. Please, all of you, pull it out."


    Zeke frowned, then reached into his desk, where he indeed found a small shield. It was hardly wider than his hand, with a strap across the back that he could grab hold of.


    The front side of the shield depicted a lion, and he looked down at it for a moment before turning his attention back to Professor Gerald.


    "Most of you probably already know the use of a buckler, but allow me a moment to elaborate for the students who may not," he cast a look particularly at Zeke, then sighed and folded his hands behind his back. "A buckler serves as a small shield with two primary uses.


    First, it can be strapped to the sword hand, providing an extra layer of protection, as well as an extra weapon should the sword be dropped. It can also be held in the off-hand, where it can be used for blocking, grappling, and punching.


    In an intense fight, getting struck with a buckler can often be the deciding factor."


    Zeke frowned and nodded as Professor Gerald continued.


    "In the matter of this class, a buckler infused with Aura can be a powerful tool, indeed. It should be noted, of course, that it is too small to stop your average sword or arrow. You should never go into a fight intending to use it for such a thing.


    As such, you should never go into a fight with your aura infused into the item. Doing so will only over-extend your energy and cause you to drain and fade more quickly than you otherwise might.


    A larger shield can easily be charged with Aura prior to a battle, on the flip side. The proper use of a buckler is for quick bursts. You sense a weakness in the enemy''s defense, so you throw a punch, charging your buckler with aura in that moment.


    You get in close, and begin grappling with your enemy instead of attacking him from a distance. Or, perhaps, you arrive at a door, and need to put a bit of extra force behind a punch to break through."


    Zeke nodded slowly as he tried to absorb it all. He could already imagine the potential applications - a well-timed aura burst into a buckler could turn a defensive move into a devastating counter-attack.


    The possibilities were exciting, if he could master the technique.


    "With that, take hold of the leather strap. It has strips of metal running through it, metal that has been enchanted to allow for easier aura infusion. Practice infusing your aura into the buckler, then drawing it back into your body," the professor slowly started walking up and down the length of the classroom.


    "That''s it. No, no throwing punches. We''ll be working on this for the next two weeks, there will be plenty of time to work on the practical application. Infuse, then withdraw. Nothing more."


    Zeke glanced over at Elise. Being a mage, she had progressed in the class far faster than he had, and he watched with some frustration as she sent her aura easily into the shield.


    After a moment, and noticing that Professor Gerald''s back was turned, she turned the shield toward Zeke. The eyes of the lion briefly glowed, as she proved that she was able to not only infuse the thing, but that she was able to direct her aura exactly where she wanted it to go.


    Zeke scowled, then shrugged and went back to work.


    He slowly sent his aura into the item, and watched as it started to glow. That was a... Bad sign? Right? He gritted his teeth and focused on some of the techniques he had learned from Ralph''s aunt.


    The glowing went down after a few seconds, though he felt the buckler beginning to buck against his hand as it tried to explode away. He quickly pulled his aura back out, waited a few seconds, and then let it flow back in.


    "De''Godfrey!"


    Zeke looked up as Professor Gerald stepped up next to him. His eyes were hard, and he nodded down at the shield.


    "Let''s see what you have."


    Zeke nodded and quickly performed the same action. When he finished, the professor nodded.


    "Sloppy, but better. You''ve shown remarkable improvement," with that, he turned to the rest of the class. "I hope you''re all taking notice! Not of De''Godfrey''s technique, mind you, but of his perseverance. It''s laudable."


    Zeke felt a flash of hope, and Professor Gerald walked back to the front of the room. By the time the class was over, Zeke''s palms burned, but he was doing a lot better.


    Everyone put their bucklers back into their desks, and Zeke rose along with them. Instead of heading out into the hall, though, he slipped up toward the professor''s desk.


    Professor Gerald was already hard at work writing something. As Zeke approached, he looked up and sighed.


    "Please, do not misread my compliment as approval."


    "I didn''t. I don''t," Zeke shook his head. "I understand that you don''t want me here. Fair enough. I was just going to ask if you''d be willing to tutor me in the evenings. I''ve been working with Professor Gilda De''Arnette, but I''ve more or less reached the end of what she can teach me."


    "Reaching the end of what that old bat has to teach would take most students a single afternoon," Professor Gerald muttered.


    "All the more reason I''d like to take some lessons from you," Zeke shrugged. "I don''t want to be the back of the class, and I think I''ve proven that I''m willing to put in the work."


    "That you have," Professor Gerald sighed and folded his hands. "Are you aware, De''Godfrey, that I''ve received orders directly from the Senate to impede your progress in whatever manner that I can?"


    "Doesn''t shock me," Zeke shrugged. "Not many people in the Senate like what I''m doing here."


    "No, indeed," Professor Gerald folded his hands in frustration. He seemed conflicted, and Zeke shrugged.


    "Come on. You became a professor here to teach us, right? You teach students from rival houses all the time. The whole point of Leoncrest is that it''s the best of the best, and if every professor played favorites and tried to hinder all the rival houses, there''s no way that it would have the reputation that it does."


    "Yes, I''m aware of the fact," the professor looked up. "We are expressly forbidden from providing less education to those from rival houses, and I''d like to think that I do a good job with it. There is a significant difference between not giving you false grades, and giving you private tutoring lessons."


    "So just consider it a challenge," Zeke pressed. "Come on. A hopeless case like me? You''d be a legend if you managed to get me turned around. Plus, I''d be a lot less likely to slip up and smash a window or something."


    Professor Gerald raised an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?"


    "No," Zeke laughed. "Just an honest admission that I''m still no good at this stuff!"


    The professor''s stern expression cracked slightly, and Zeke sensed an opportunity. He leaned forward, his eyes bright with determination.


    "Look, Professor, I know we started off on the wrong foot. I know House Stragga and House Godfrey have their differences. But isn''t this exactly what Leoncrest is about? Rising above those differences to become something greater?"


    For a moment, Zeke thought he saw something like respect in the professor''s eyes.


    Professor Gerald sighed and put his head into his hands. After a few moments, he nodded.


    "I''m not going to go easy on you, and I''m only going to help you catch up with the rest of the class. Nothing more."


    "Got it," Zeke confirmed. "That''s all I''m asking."


    "Be here tonight. 5:00."


    "Thank you," Zeke bowed.


    Professor Gerald snorted and waved his hand dismissively, and Zeke turned to scamper away. It wasn''t an ideal answer, but it was more than he had hoped for.


    Now, with luck, he''d really be able to get back to where he needed to be.


    As Zeke left the classroom, he nearly collided with Diocletian, who was lurking just outside the door.


    "Well, well," Diocletian smirked. "What was that all about? Begging for special treatment?"


    "Just arranging some extra lessons," Zeke replied evenly, refusing to rise to the bait. "You could probably use some yourself."


    Diocletian''s face darkened. "Watch it, Godfrey. I haven''t forgotten what happened in the forest."


    "Neither have I," Zeke said, meeting his gaze steadily. "How''s your cheek feeling, by the way?"


    Diocletian unconsciously touched the spot where Zeke had punched him during their underground encounter. His jaw tightened.


    "You think you''re clever, don''t you? Getting all these extra lessons, trying to make up for your pathetic lack of talent with sheer stubbornness."


    "It seems to be working so far," Zeke shrugged. "One Trial down, thirty-three to go."


    "The first Trial was nothing," Diocletian sneered. "Just a walk in the woods. Wait until the real Trials begin - the ones that have ended careers and even lives. No amount of extra training will prepare you for those."


    "We''ll see," Zeke said, starting to walk away. "Good luck in the Fall Festival, by the way. I hear they have some great events for beginners."


    He could practically feel Diocletian''s glare burning into his back as he walked away. The encounter left him thinking, though. The Fall Festival was coming up soon, and after that would likely be his second Trial.


    He needed to be ready for both.


    The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes and training. By the time the afternoon was over, Zeke was exhausted but satisfied with his progress.


    Between Victoria''s morning training, his regular classes, and now Professor Gerald''s upcoming tutoring, he was pushing himself harder than ever before. But he was also improving faster than he''d thought possible.


    As he headed to dinner, he ran into Ralph, who was sporting a black eye.


    "What happened to you?" Zeke asked, concerned.


    "Just a friendly disagreement with a student from House Byron," Ralph grinned, apparently unbothered by his injury. "Turns out they don''t appreciate being accused of setting people up with sleeping potions. But I got in a good shot too - you should see his nose!"


    "You confronted that girl''s family about what happened?" Zeke asked incredulously.


    "Well, not directly," Ralph admitted. "I may have loudly speculated about House Byron''s dishonorable tactics within earshot of her brother. One thing led to another..."


    "You''re insane," Zeke shook his head, but found himself smiling. Ralph''s carefree approach to life was both baffling and refreshing.


    "Life''s too short to hold grudges," Ralph shrugged. "We had our fight, now it''s settled. He even invited me to join their table at the Fall Festival feast. Said anyone with a right hook like mine can''t be all bad."


    "Speaking of the Fall Festival," Zeke said, "I''m thinking about entering one of the tournaments."


    "Really?" Ralph perked up. "Which one? The sword competition? The obstacle course? The magical duels?"


    "I haven''t decided yet," Zeke admitted. "But after talking with Victoria this morning, I''m starting to think I should put myself out there. Show everyone what I can do."


    "Or show everyone what you can''t do," Ralph pointed out helpfully. "Either way, it''ll be entertaining!"


    "Thanks for the vote of confidence," Zeke said dryly.


    "Anytime," Ralph grinned. "You know what? I think you should do it. The worst that happens is you lose, but so what? No one expects you to win anyway. But if you do well..."


    "Everyone will be surprised," Zeke finished.


    "Exactly! Plus, I can place some bets on you as the underdog. The odds will be fantastic!"


    Zeke rolled his eyes. "I''m glad my potential humiliation could be profitable for you."


    "That''s what friends are for," Ralph said cheerfully. "Come on, let''s get dinner. I''m starving after getting punched in the face."


    As they walked to the dining hall together, Zeke found himself feeling strangely optimistic. Between his progressing skills, Professor Gerald''s unexpected help, and the possibility of proving himself at the Fall Festival, things were looking up.


    Now, with luck, he''d really be able to get back to where he needed to be.


    Tonight would be the first step - mastering the aura techniques that still gave him so much trouble. After that, who knew? Maybe by the time the Second Trial came around, he''d actually be ready for it.


    [Scene Close]


    [Earned Emblems:] Heart of the Warrior, Endurance


    [Active Quests:]


    [Overtime: Attend private tutoring with Professor Gerald]


    [Upcoming: Decide whether to enter the Fall Festival tournament]

 16. Growth Regardless

    [Scene Loading...]


    [Location: Leoncrest Castle - Tower 7]


    [Date: September 30, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]


    "Slowly, now," Professor Gerald''s voice called out. "Ease into it."


    Zeke let out a long breath as he allowed his aura to flow into the small crystal ball. It flickered for a moment, then died down, and slowly, the ball started to float up above his palm.


    It hovered there, about an inch in the air, then danced around for a few seconds before popping upward. Still, though, it only leapt up about a foot, and Zeke was easily able to catch it.


    "Very well done," Professor Gerald held out his hand and took the orb from Zeke. Zeke rose to his feet as the professor walked back toward the front of the classroom. "That''ll be all for tonight. You''ve made truly remarkable progress."


    He paused as he dropped the sphere into a box of matching crystal spheres, then turned back around. "And you truly had no training through your childhood?"


    "None whatsoever," Zeke shook his head. "I wish I had."


    "Well, I am thankful that you did not. I shudder to think how strong you might be at this point, had you been able to truly develop your powers from an early age," the professor rubbed his forehead. "Do you mind if we run a quick test? Come here, and put your hand on this Aura sensor?"


    Zeke nodded and strode forward to the professor''s desk. He placed his hand upon a small chunk of stone, and with a flicker, a display appeared above him.


    ¡¸???????? ??????????????¡¹


    ¡¾Rank: E-Rank¡¿


    ¡¾Classification: Initiate¡¿


    ¡¾Progress to D-Rank: 30%¡¿


    "Thirty percent!" Professor Gerald whistled sharply. "And you were only at 1% when the year started. Of course, Academy life is more intense, but most people work for the many long years of their childhood to raise it to 10 or 15% by the time they start their classes.


    The initiates who have done no honing at all, like yourself, usually struggle to reach 30 by the end of the year. Truly amazing."


    Zeke couldn''t help but grin at the praise. After weeks of extra training, he was finally seeing results. Maybe this whole quest wasn''t as impossible as it had seemed.


    "Not a word about these classes to anyone, you understand?" the professor added, his expression suddenly serious.


    "Trust me," Zeke nodded. "If word got out, I''d be in just as much hot water as you. House Stragga and House Godfrey aren''t exactly friends, we''d probably be accused of... I don''t know."


    "Yeah," Professor Gerald sighed and sat down behind his desk. "I''ll see you tomorrow."


    "Professor?" Zeke paused before he walked away. "Can I ask you something? It''s about the first Trial that I completed."


    "Hmm?" Professor Gerald looked up. "What about it?"


    "I spoke with the Headmistress after the fact, and she mentioned offhandedly that it would be impossible for me to have been attacked in the Dark Forest."


    Professor Gerald nodded. "Correct, unless you had been with someone of a higher power. Even if you had somehow stumbled across one of the more powerful beasts, they would have ignored you. Why?"


    "Because I was attacked," Zeke shrugged. He explained the situation, leaving out the part about Diocletian. When he finished, the professor frowned and crossed his arms.


    "And you''re sure there was no one there with you?"


    Zeke hesitated. He didn''t want to get Diocletian in trouble - not because he cared about the other boy, but because doing so would only escalate their rivalry further. Still, the professor deserved the truth.


    "No one who could have triggered the larger monsters," Zeke shook his head. "There was another student who snuck into the woods, but no one strong enough to do what you''re talking about."


    "Interesting," Professor Gerald bit his lip. "Let me think upon that."


    Zeke nodded and slipped out into the hall, knowing the conversation was over. As he did so, he caught sight of someone standing just a few doors down, and he groaned.


    No... It was several someones.


    Diocletian, and three cronies.


    "Well, well, well," Diocletian slowly started forward, sneering at Zeke. "Look at the little weakling. Staying afterward for tutoring? You know who needs tutors? Little girls."


    Zeke raised an eyebrow. "That seems like a low blow, even for you."


    Diocletian turned slightly red, and he balled his hands into fists. "We''ll see what my father has to say when he hears that you''ve been colluding with House Stragga. Then... Oh, then House Godfrey will feel it for good."


    "Godfrey!"


    Professor Gerald''s voice boomed from the room, and Zeke spun around, white-faced. The professor thundered out, holding up a wastebasket.


    "You didn''t clean this out!"


    "I..." Zeke stammered.


    "When you come to my classroom to fulfill your punishments, I expect you to do your job," the professor snapped. "Get out of my sight."


    Zeke''s cheeks burned as the door slammed shut. He knew that the professor had just saved them both from a world of hurt, but it still stung to be dressed down like that.


    He sighed and trudged off toward the central staircase, and Diocletian laughed after him.


    "So that''s what it is? You''ve really been sent to his classroom that much for punishments? How bad must you be at all this? Makes a fellow wonder how you ever even got in the door."


    Zeke sighed and just walked a bit faster down the stairs. Diocletian slowly followed behind him, continuing to mock him.


    "Come on, Godfrey! Just give it up. Sure, you completed one trial, but that doesn''t make you a warrior. You''re nothing but a weakling. You''re just a joke, and you shouldn''t be here," Diocletian suddenly darted around in front of him, and placed his hand on his sword. "One might wonder if you can really hold your own here."


    Zeke sighed and came to a stop. "You''re issuing a challenge to me? You know that dueling isn''t allowed in the Academy halls. If you want to duel, we''d have to go outside."


    "Oh, now you''re a stickler for the rules?" Diocletian raised an eyebrow. "You know what I think? I think you''re nothing more than a lily-liver."


    "Once more, your insults are on point today," Zeke sighed and stepped around him.


    "Don''t you dare walk away from me!" Diocletian roared. As Zeke stepped past him, he stuck out his foot and tripped him, and Zeke went tumbling down the stairs.


    Falling down a set of stairs is far from a pleasant business, and Zeke found himself whacking head and arms and legs and feet until he slammed into a wall as the stairs curved.


    He groaned and slowly climbed back to his feet, even as Diocletian charged at him.


    Diocletian''s sword gleamed, and Zeke knew that he would be given no quarter. He snarled and snatched at his own sword, and through a doorway, someone screamed.


    A few people came running, and Diocletian lunged.


    Zeke reacted instantly, slapping away the sword long before it hit him. "Stay away from me!"


    Diocletian roared and threw himself into an attack. He was fast, far more so than Zeke, and Zeke fell back into the training sessions that he had been undergoing with Victoria.


    His sword seemed to move of its own accord, fighting a defensive battle. Diocletian pressed forward, forcing him backward, and Zeke allowed it.


    He took a few steps down the stairs, then entered one of the doorways into another floor of classrooms. By now, more students were beginning to gather, and Diocletian slashed at him with ever-greater fury.


    "You''re not meant to be here!" He roared. "And no one is going to care when I finish you off!"


    He slashed high, and Zeke reacted on instinct, falling back again upon what he had been learning. To his great surprise (and Diocletian''s far greater surprise), the sword was knocked clean out of Diocletian''s hand.


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    It clattered to the ground, and Zeke raised his own sword to place it at Diocletian''s throat.


    "I..." Diocletian stammered. "I didn''t mean it."


    "Yes you did," Zeke sighed, then slowly lowered the sword. He still kept it at the ready, though, above Diocletian''s own weapon. At the same time, he began to focus his aura into his left fist, which he kept slightly back, and behind his side. "Now get away from me."


    Diocletian flinched, then darted down to grab his sword to continue the fight. Zeke reacted instantly, and threw a punch that connected with Diocletian''s jaw.


    There was a blast of light, and Diocletian was smashed against a wall a few feet away. Zeke gasped, his hand stinging, and the heavy sound of the boots of professors began to race up.


    And a few moments later, he was being led up to the office of the Headmistress.


    ¡¸???????????? ??????????????¡¹


    ¡¾Opponent: Diocletian de''Minziar¡¿


    ¡¾Result: Victory¡¿


    ¡¾Technique Used: Aura-Infused Strike¡¿


    ¡¾Consequence: Disciplinary Meeting¡¿


    The crowd that had gathered to watch the fight dispersed quickly as the professors arrived. A few students whispered and pointed at Zeke as he was escorted away, but he couldn''t tell if their expressions were impressed or scandalized. Maybe both.


    As they marched him toward the Headmistress''s office, Zeke felt a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, he was annoyed at being forced into a fight. On the other, there was a certain satisfaction in finally standing up to Diocletian ¨C and winning.


    He and Diocletian were soon seated down in front of Headmistress Florence, who did not at all look happy to see them. She folded her hands and glared at them both, turning her ire first from one to the next.


    "He started it," Diocletian raised a finger, pointing at Zeke.


    "Let''s suppose for a moment that he did," the Headmistress snapped. "Your obvious inability to defend yourself speaks wonders to your studiousness in your classes. If he could land a punch on you in a sword fight, despite not picking up a sword until less than two months ago, what does that say of you? If that is the truth, then you deserve every ounce of pain that you''re feeling."


    "And if it''s not?" Zeke offered.


    She glanced sharply at him, then back at Diocletian. "And if it''s not," her voice was pinched. "Then you should know that lying to the Headmistress is a crime punishable by expulsion. Whether or not he started the fight, you come from a proud family line. The disgrace that you''ve brought upon yourself and your family will be enough punishment for now. Get out of my sight."


    Diocletian nodded and rose. His face was streaked with blood, and he turned and dashed away. The moment the door closed, the Headmistress turned back to Zeke.


    "What do you have to say for yourself?"


    "Ask any witness. There were several, including a handful of followers who deserted him at the first sign of trouble," Zeke shrugged. "He attacked me. I tried to defuse it. I managed to disarm him, gave him a chance to cede the fight, and he attacked me again. I did only what was necessary."


    "Hmm," the Headmistress pressed her fingertips together. Her lips were a line of white across her face.


    "I also warned him, ahead of time, about the rule regarding duels," Zeke held up a finger. "I did everything that I could, short of standing there and letting myself just get stabbed."


    "I see," Headmistress Florence sighed, then slowly stood. "Now, if what you''re saying is true, then you acted rightly. The problem is that this isn''t how politics work."


    "What do you mean?" Zeke demanded, standing up as well.


    "And that is the reality of this world, a reality that you have been repeatedly told, but seem to refuse to embrace!" The Headmistress snapped. "Seeking tutoring from House Arnette? Sure, your houses have always been friendly enough. Seeking tutoring from Victoria De''Reinfir? Why not? House Reinfir and House Godfrey have been off and on allies. Both of you are expert warriors, which of course has put you at odds just as much as you''ve been fighting together, but you have fought together."


    "I''m not sure that I see the point here," Zeke frowned.


    "The point is that you started seeking out tutoring from House Stragga!" The Headmistress snapped. "The point is that you refuse to pursue a proper rivalry with Diocletian De''Minziar. Both houses see the blood in the water and want you dead. Not sidelined. Dead. By refusing to play the game, all you''re doing is painting a target on your back. Your back, and the whole of the Academy."


    "And why is that?" Zeke was starting to become infuriated.


    "Because the system works. It has for centuries. Get with the system, or get out of my academy."


    Zeke felt himself starting to grow hot under the collar. "When I came here, I was told that I needed to forge alliances. That''s all I''ve been trying to do."


    "Forging alliances sometimes means forging enemies," the Headmistress turned toward him. Her eyes blazed, and she crossed her arms. "The private tutoring sessions with Professor Gerald De''Stragga end now. Not a single one more, and don''t you dare try to go behind my back."


    Zeke set his jaw. "Yes, ma''am. And what would you have me do about Diocletian? Attack him, next time?"


    "If you didn''t always hide in the shadows, you wouldn''t invite him to attack you in such a manner," Headmistress Florence answered. "Find a way to challenge him. Publicly. Perhaps... At the Fall Festival?"


    Quite suddenly, Zeke felt as though he had been led into a trap. Perhaps it had been the doing of the Headmistress, or perhaps the whole thing had been orchestrated by Diocletian, or perhaps even Professor Gerald had set it up.


    He had no way of knowing, but he knew, in that moment, that the attack had been completely and entirely done with the intent of getting him into a tournament in the Fall Festival.


    Some party that was going to be.


    "And if I refuse?"


    "Then it would seem that another incident of fighting in the hallway might just be grounds for your expulsion," the Headmistress''s voice was cold.


    Rather than showing his frustration, Zeke found himself grinning. If they wanted a show, he''d give them one. Let Diocletian think he''d forced Zeke into a corner ¨C it would only make victory sweeter.


    "Fair enough," Zeke nodded, his voice surprisingly steady. "Set me up."


    "Very well," she nodded. "If you insist, of course."


    "As long as I''m here, can I ask about the second Trial?" Zeke continued, keeping his tone casual. "I assume that it will be forthcoming."


    "Oh, yes," Headmistress Florence paused. "Let us set the date for two weeks after the Fall Festival. It will be a much more basic test than the march. A sparring match."


    "Right," Zeke nodded, mind already racing with plans. "Let''s get to it, then."


    With that, he turned and left the room, determination building inside him. He might have been manipulated once more, but this time, he was going to use it to his advantage.


    As Zeke walked back to his dormitory, he found Victoria waiting for him in the corridor.


    "I heard what happened," she said without preamble. "Word travels fast around here."


    "I bet it does," Zeke said, continuing to walk. Victoria fell into step beside him.


    "You disarmed him?" There was a note of surprised respect in her voice.


    "Knocked his sword right out of his hand," Zeke confirmed. "Then I put him through a wall."


    Victoria raised an eyebrow. "With an aura-infused punch? That''s advanced technique."


    "It just happened," Zeke admitted. "I wasn''t even thinking about it. I just needed to stop him from grabbing his sword again."


    They walked in silence for a moment before Victoria spoke again.


    "So the Headmistress is forcing you into the Fall Festival tournament."


    "News really does travel fast," Zeke smiled wryly. "Yes, she made it clear I either participate or face expulsion."


    "It''s a setup," Victoria said bluntly. "Diocletian will have home-field advantage. His father is one of the tournament judges, and half the participants are from allied houses."


    "I figured as much," Zeke nodded. "But I don''t have much choice."


    "Actually," Victoria''s voice took on a different tone, "this could work in your favor."


    "How so?"


    "Everyone will be expecting you to lose," she explained. "Diocletian, the Headmistress, the Senate observers - they all think this is going to be your public humiliation."


    "So when I inevitably lose, they get what they want," Zeke pointed out.


    "But what if you don''t lose?" Victoria countered. "What if you surprise everyone? The Fall Festival is attended by representatives from all the major houses. If you perform well - even if you don''t win the whole tournament - you could gain allies."


    Zeke considered this. "You think I have a chance?"


    "I''ve been training you for weeks now," Victoria said. "And you just took down Diocletian in a hallway brawl. Yes, I think you have a chance - if we step up your training."


    "They''ve also forbidden me from continuing my aura lessons with Professor Gerald," Zeke told her.


    Victoria shrugged. "Then we''ll add aura practice to our morning sessions. I''m not as specialized as De''Stragga, but I know the basics. We have three weeks until the Festival - that''s enough time to prepare."


    "Three weeks to get ready for a tournament where everyone wants me to fail," Zeke summarized. Then, to Victoria''s surprise, he grinned. "Sounds like fun."


    Victoria stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "You''re either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish."


    "Probably both," Zeke admitted. "But what other choice do I have?"


    "None," Victoria agreed. "Be at the south courtyard at four tomorrow morning. That gives us an extra hour. You''re going to need it."


    "I''ll be there," Zeke promised.


    As Victoria left, Zeke continued to his room. Inside, he found Ralph sprawled on his bed, reading a book about metalworking.


    "I heard you punched Diocletian through a wall," Ralph said without looking up. "Nice work."


    "Word really does get around," Zeke sighed, collapsing onto his own bed.


    "So you''re in the tournament now," Ralph said, setting his book aside. "Any strategy beyond ''try not to die''?"


    "Victoria''s going to help me train," Zeke replied. "And I was thinking about what you said before - about how no one expects me to win anyway."


    "Right," Ralph nodded. "Takes the pressure off."


    "But what if I did win?" Zeke mused. "Or at least did well enough to make Diocletian look bad?"


    "That would certainly shake things up," Ralph agreed with a grin. "The nobles would be outraged, the commoners would love it, and I''d make a fortune on betting odds."


    "You''re going to bet on me?" Zeke asked.


    "Of course," Ralph said, as if it were obvious. "The odds against you will be astronomical. If you even make it past the first round, I''ll triple my money."


    "Glad I could help with your gambling problem," Zeke said dryly.


    "It''s not gambling if you have inside information," Ralph tapped the side of his nose. "And my information says you''re a lot better than people think."


    Zeke stared up at the ceiling, mind racing. The Fall Festival tournament would be dangerous, no doubt about it. Diocletian and his allies would do everything possible to ensure Zeke''s failure.


    But if he could somehow turn the tables...


    "I need to know more about the tournament," he said suddenly. "How it''s structured, what events there are, who the judges are."


    "Now you''re thinking strategically," Ralph approved. "As it happens, my cousin participated last year. I can tell you everything you need to know."


    For the next hour, Ralph explained the Fall Festival tournament in detail. It was a three-day event, beginning with preliminary matches to thin the field, followed by quarter-finals and semi-finals, and concluding with the championship duels.


    Participants could enter different categories - sword fighting, unarmed combat, magical dueling, and a mixed category that allowed any combination of the three.


    "Which category will Diocletian enter?" Zeke asked.


    "Sword fighting, definitely," Ralph said. "It''s the most prestigious, and he''s actually quite good. His family has been training him since he could walk."


    "Then that''s where I''ll enter too," Zeke decided.


    "Bold choice," Ralph remarked. "You might have a better shot in the mixed category, where you could use that aura punch of yours."


    Zeke shook his head. "If I''m going to do this, I need to face him directly. No tricks, no special advantages. Just swords."


    "You''re either very brave or very stupid," Ralph said, unknowingly echoing Victoria.


    "So I''ve been told," Zeke smiled.


    That night, as he lay in bed, Zeke thought about everything that had happened. He had come to Leoncrest to complete the 34 Trials and restore his family''s honor.


    Instead, he had found himself caught in a web of noble politics and ancient rivalries. The Fall Festival tournament wasn''t part of his original plan, but maybe it was exactly what he needed - a chance to show everyone what he was made of.


    And if he failed? Well, he''d pick himself up and try again. That''s what Artax would do. That''s what a true Godfrey would do.


    With that thought, Zeke drifted off to sleep, dreaming of swords clashing and crowds cheering. In his dream, he stood victorious, the Fall Festival champion, with Diocletian bowing in defeat before him.


    Tomorrow, the real work would begin.


    [Scene Close]


    [Earned Emblems:] Heart of the Warrior, Endurance


    [Active Quests:] [Brace for Impact: Prepare for both the Fall Festival and for the second Trial]

 17. Fall Festival

    [Scene Loading...]


    [Location: Leoncrest Castle - Grand Courtyard]


    [Date: October 15, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]


    The next several weeks passed in a blur. Zeke spent every spare second of the morning training with Victoria, who was more than willing to assist him in getting ready for the tournament, particularly when she heard how he had been manipulated into joining.


    In the afternoons, he went back to Ralph''s aunt, Professor Gilda de''Arnette, who directed him to her husband, Professor Donald de''Arnette. He was a jovial blacksmith and an expert in Enchanting - the practice of infusing Aura into items as they were forged, ensuring that the chosen magical effects were permanent.


    It was slightly different than what Zeke needed to know, but Donald was advanced enough that he was able to give Zeke quite a few pointers, and Zeke began to progress in that route once again. He also began to learn a very little bit of basic forging techniques, alongside Ralph, who had been eager to get past the theory and onto the practical side of his chosen progression path for some time (but who, apparently, was quite bad at test-taking).


    During these weeks of preparation, Zeke had thrown himself into training with a determination that surprised even himself. Every morning before dawn, he was in the courtyard with Victoria, practicing sword forms until his arms felt ready to fall off.


    Every afternoon, he was at the forge with Professor Donald, learning to channel his aura into metal. Every evening, he studied strategy and tournament rules until he fell asleep with books scattered across his bed.


    "You''re improving faster than I expected," Victoria had told him one morning after he successfully executed a complex parry-and-riposte sequence. "But technique alone won''t be enough. Diocletian will have tricks prepared. You need to be ready for anything."


    "Then let''s practice ''anything,''" Zeke had replied with a grin, setting his stance again. "Throw your worst at me."


    By the time the day of the Fall Festival arrived, Zeke had developed calluses on his hands and a quiet confidence in his movements. He wasn''t deluded enough to think he was the best swordsman among the first-years - not even close - but he was no longer the helpless novice who had arrived at Leoncrest barely able to hold a blade properly.


    When the day of the Fall Festival came around, Zeke made his way down through the castle and out into the Grand Courtyard, which was located directly to the west of the castle. It was huge, sprawling across several acres, and had been fully decked out for the occasion.


    There were long tables of food set up, a handful of fighting rings, and even jousting arenas. Zeke watched in amazement as a few riders began their practice runs, and Elise walked up to him.


    "That looks like so much fun!" Ralph joined them, stretching in the early morning light. "Oh, I can''t wait until I can do that!"


    "Jousting is reserved for the upper years," Elise pointed out. "It''s an incredibly dangerous sport. Students have been killed doing it before, you know."


    "Really?" Ralph turned white. "Hey, Zeke? You''re really good at that sort of thing. You ride, I''ll cheer? Get to share in the glory, and all that?"


    Zeke just rolled his eyes. "We''ll see." His stomach churned nervously, and he started walking toward the food line. "I''m going to grab a bite to eat before the fight."


    "No, you''re not," Victoria seemed to appear out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. She handed him a small plate of nuts, and he scowled. "Here, eat these. You''ll still be hungry, but it''ll settle the jitters. You can eat when you''re done."


    "Come on," Zeke scowled.


    "If you want a chance at winning, and trust me, it''s going to take a miracle, you need every opportunity you can get," Victoria snapped. "More than a few warriors have been brought down over the years because they over-indulged on the eve of a big fight. Come on, eat up."


    Zeke sighed and started to eat, and Elise leaned over, looking at a paper that Victoria was holding.


    "Is that the fight schedule?"


    "Yes," Victoria nodded. "Zeke will fight here in about an hour. Come on. Let''s go watch and see how this is going to play out."


    Zeke nodded and followed her toward one of the rings, where a few people had started practicing already.


    "So what does this look like?" Zeke asked.


    "It''s a tournament," she answered. "You''ll be fighting with blunt swords, but they still hurt, trust me. Single-elimination. You defeat your opponent, you move on. You lose, you''re out. Students are grouped by age, so you''ll only be fighting for champion of the first-years."


    "Got it," Zeke frowned.


    "Just remember everything that I''ve taught you," Victoria assured him. "Do that, and you''ll be fine."


    The group found seats on one of the wooden bleachers that had been set up around the main fighting ring. All around them, students and professors alike were gathering, many carrying food or small pennants with house colors.


    The atmosphere was festive but charged with competitive energy.


    "Look, there''s Diocletian," Ralph pointed across the ring where their rival was surrounded by a group of admirers. "Acting like he''s already won."


    Zeke watched Diocletian laughing and gesturing grandly. "Let him enjoy it now. The fighting hasn''t started yet."


    "That''s the spirit," Elise smiled, bumping her shoulder against his.


    As they waited for the tournament to begin, Zeke studied the other competitors warming up. Most had clearly been training their whole lives, moving with the fluid confidence that came from years of practice.


    In comparison, his few weeks of intensive training seemed woefully inadequate. But there was no backing out now - nor did he want to.


    The rest of them did their best to reassure him as well, but he spent the next hour more than a bit nervous. When the tournament finally started, a crowd gathered to watch, and Zeke found himself entranced as Diocletian climbed into the ring with a student from House Faure.


    The moderator dropped his hand, and the two of them went at it.


    Their swords clattered against one another, again and again. Suddenly, Diocletian spun and hooked his foot around the other student''s ankle.


    The other boy went down hard, and Diocletian''s sword cracked across the back of his neck.


    "And that''s the fight!" The moderator called out.


    "Brutal," Zeke muttered.


    "But effective," Victoria noted. "Watch his footwork - he''s always looking for ways to trip or unbalance his opponent. Keep that in mind."


    The next several fights went more or less the same. With blunt swords, the students seemed much more willing to get in close, whacking each other with the hilts or otherwise using their aura to wreak havoc.


    Still, though, there were a fair number of fights that ended when a sword stroke hit the other person across the chest (or gut, or other vital organ) in what was deemed a "killstroke," or rather what would have been a killing blow had the sword been real.


    ¡¸???????????????????? ????????????¡¹


    ¡¾Event: First-Year Sword Tournament¡¿


    ¡¾Format: Single Elimination¡¿


    ¡¾Current Stage: Opening Rounds¡¿


    ¡¾Next Match: Zeke de''Godfrey vs. Thaddeus de''Stragga¡¿


    Finally, it came time for Zeke''s fight, and he slowly climbed over the ropes and into the ring. His opponent hopped over as well, sporting colors from House Stragga.


    He sneered, and Zeke frowned. It was one of Diocletian''s goons, he was pretty sure of it. Zeke held out his hand as the sword was passed to him, and Elise cheered.


    "You can do it!"


    The moderator raised his hand, and Zeke tensed. An instant before it fell, though, the Stragga student lunged, and Zeke only barely got his sword up in time.


    "Hey!" Victoria called out. "That was illegal!"


    The moderator didn''t seem to hear her, and Zeke was forced into a defensive battle. His sword flashed through his hands, moving through the strikes and parries that he had been taught.


    It was much like his battle with Diocletian, where he had very little experience actually fighting, but a fair bit of experience in theory. It wasn''t much, but it was just enough to keep him afloat.


    "Come on," the other student snapped. "Go down, will you?"


    Zeke gritted his teeth, then lunged forward, throwing his shoulder into the other boy''s chest. There was a clatter of armor, and the other student went down, hard.


    Zeke slashed his sword across the back of the neck, leaving a red welt, and stepped back.


    And, to his surprise, the other student slowly climbed back to his feet.


    "Hey!" Elise called out, along with a few of the other students, even ones that Zeke knew were from houses that hated him. "That was a killshot!"


    The moderator seemed to have grown deaf, and the Stragga student grinned.


    "You can''t win this," he sneered. "Not unless I yield."


    Zeke sighed, then leapt forward. Knowing that it was liable to get him killed or expelled, he poured his aura into his sword and swung it as hard as he could.


    Blam!


    Stolen story; please report.


    The Stragga student was lifted off his feet and sent back through the ropes, where he hit the ground with a loud whack. Zeke stepped up to the ropes, his palms stinging fiercely, but knowing well that he couldn''t show an ounce of weakness.


    "Then yield."


    He did.


    A mixture of cheers and boos erupted from the crowd as Zeke climbed out of the ring. Victoria met him at the edge, handing him a waterskin.


    "That was risky," she said quietly. "Using that much aura could get you disqualified."


    "Not much choice," Zeke replied, taking a grateful drink. "He wasn''t going to acknowledge a fair hit."


    "The moderator is clearly in Diocletian''s pocket," Ralph observed, joining them. "You''ll need to be even more decisive in your next matches."


    Elise pushed through the crowd to join them, her face flushed with excitement. "That was amazing! The way you charged him and then that finishing move!"


    "Thanks," Zeke smiled, genuinely pleased by her enthusiasm. "But that was just the first round. It''s going to get harder from here."


    The second round of the tournament then began, and Zeke watched as the champions of the previous round fought each other. There were still almost ten fights to get through, making it another thirty minutes before Zeke climbed into the ring again.


    He found himself facing another of Diocletian''s goons, and sighed.


    "Come on. Are we really going to do this?"


    The student snarled and charged, once again before the moderator had given the signal, and Zeke threw himself into the midst of it all. Their swords came crashing together again and again, and Zeke grimaced as he felt the other student pushing him backward.


    Zeke was still just a bit slower than he would have liked, a bit less powerful.


    Still, though... A few months earlier, he would have been flat on his back within seconds, so it really was good progress.


    That said, he knew that he had to win the fight. Good progress or not, it wasn''t going to be enough to keep him safe. Maybe if he made it on to the semi-finals, but even that was a gamble.


    After thinking it through for a few long moments, an idea popped into his head, and he gritted his teeth.


    Once more, he lowered his shoulder, and made as if to body-slam his opponent. Likely anticipating the move, the other student lowered himself, preparing to meet him head-on.


    As such, instead of actually lunging forward, Zeke launched himself to the side, where his opponent was now exposed. His sword crashed firmly across the goon''s shoulder, and knocked him partway to the ground.


    "Yield?" Zeke snapped. The other student started to turn, and Zeke leapt forward, sweeping the boy''s legs and sending him crashing to the ground.


    He placed the tip of the sword on the back of his neck, and felt a smile flicker across his face. "Just how much pain do you think that you can endure?"


    A moment later, he had yielded, too.


    "That''s two!" Ralph shouted excitedly as Zeke returned to the sidelines. "You''re halfway to the final!"


    "Don''t get ahead of yourself," Victoria cautioned, but she was smiling. "That was good thinking, though - feinting with the shoulder charge and then changing direction. He fell for it completely."


    "I figured he''d be expecting what worked last time," Zeke explained, rolling his shoulder. "Had to mix it up."


    "Smart fighting," Victoria nodded approvingly. "Keep that up."


    Between rounds, Zeke took the opportunity to study the remaining competitors more carefully. Most were from noble houses allied with Diocletian''s family, as expected.


    But there were a few wildcards - a quiet, unassuming boy from House Byron who had dispatched his opponents with textbook precision, and a tall girl from House Reinfir who fought with a speed that reminded Zeke of Victoria.


    The third round had five fights, for the ten winners from the previous round. This time, Zeke found himself facing off against a student that he didn''t recognize.


    Apparently, the organizers hadn''t believed that Zeke would be able to get past round two. In any case, it was a fairly boring fight, as the student (House Byron), refused to play dirty.


    House Byron was known for upholding strict chivalry in all circumstances, and the boy repeatedly passed up opportunities that the moderator gave him. Doing so, unfortunately for the sake of chivalry, did more than simply level the playing field, as it made the House Byron student actively hang back, and Zeke soon defeated him.


    As Zeke climbed out of the ring after his victory, he noticed something unusual - members of several different houses were now watching him with interest rather than derision. He had expected to be treated as an amusement at best, but it seemed his unexpected success was changing perceptions.


    "You''re gaining attention," Victoria observed, following his gaze. "Good attention. Representatives from House Levayne and House Burgson are taking notes."


    "Is that good?" Zeke asked.


    "It means you''re being taken seriously," she replied. "Which is exactly what we wanted."


    The fourth round included two fights, with Diocletian receiving a pass to the semi-finals. It made Zeke frustrated, but there was nothing that he could do about it.


    That round was easily the toughest of all, and Zeke found himself facing off against one of Victoria''s cousins, another student that he had often seen in their early-morning sessions.


    She was good, but in the end, Zeke had just a bit of height on her, and was able to land a killshot across her leg. She had been much more willing to take advantage of early movements and such things against him, but even she was willing to acknowledge the loss upon receiving the blow, and she retreated.


    As he prepared for his match against Victoria''s cousin, Zeke felt a newfound confidence. He was no longer just trying to survive each match - he was actively looking for ways to win.


    Victoria had drilled technique into him for weeks, but something else was emerging now: instinct. He was beginning to feel the rhythm of combat, to anticipate rather than just react.


    The match itself was fast-paced and technical - Victoria''s cousin, Lydia, fought with the same precision that ran in the Reinfir family. But where Victoria was aggressive, Lydia was cautious, preferring to wait for openings rather than create them.


    Zeke used this to his advantage, intentionally creating false openings to draw her in, then countering when she committed.


    When he finally landed the decisive blow across her leg, there was genuine respect in her eyes as she acknowledged the hit.


    "Well fought, de''Godfrey," she said as they shook hands. "Victoria''s taught you well."


    "Thanks," Zeke replied. "You nearly had me with that feint to the left."


    "Nearly isn''t good enough in a tournament," she smiled. "Good luck against Diocletian. You''ll need it."


    Zeke was breathing heavily, and was just climbing out of the ring when the moderator waved at him.


    "Not yet! It''s time for the semi-final. Diocletian de''Minziar against Zeke de''Godfrey!"


    Zeke groaned as he realized the predicament. With three people remaining, the "semi-final" had been rigged. Now, fresh off an intense battle, Zeke had to return straight into combat, while Diocletian had just had a good rest.


    Zeke sighed and bit his lip, then nodded and slowly took up his position.


    "Alright, Godfrey!" Diocletian practically leapt into the ring. "Now it''s time to teach you good!"


    Zeke looked Diocletian over. He was bouncing with energy, and Zeke had the distinct feeling that he had been looking forward to fighting him.


    The only problem was... Well... It seemed like there was something more than that. Diocletian was more than simply eager to fight him, more than simply happy that he had been given a rest, while Zeke hadn''t.


    Something else was going on, and Zeke couldn''t put his finger on it.


    And then, as Diocletian spun and waved to the crowds, Zeke caught a glimpse of something beneath Diocletian''s robes. It was another sword, identical to the ones used in the tournaments.


    Zeke already had his sword, which meant...


    He watched Diocletian carefully. As a sword was handed across to Diocletian, the boy gave it a twirl, and spun in a circle, allowing his robes to billow about.


    As he did so, Diocletian slashed his sword downward, and, with a movement that Zeke could only imagine had taken hundreds of hours of practice, switched the swords. Suddenly, as he spun back, he held an identical weapon... But to what end?


    Zeke knew the answer almost immediately. It was almost certainly enchanted, or poisoned, or something. One blow, and he would be dead. Not just out of the running, but dead.


    Victoria, off to one side, caught his eye, and she gave her head a shake. She had seen it, too. The moderator, of course, was utterly immune to it.


    As both of them raised their swords, Zeke suddenly saw a chance, and he bowed his head.


    "I yield."


    "You what?" Diocletian blinked in surprise.


    "I yield," Zeke shrugged. He passed his sword to the moderator, who took it in some surprise. "You have a distinct advantage on me. I congratulate you. I know I can''t win this fight, so I''ll save myself the trouble of being crushed. Fantastic job, and thank you for convincing me to join! It really has been a great pleasure, and I''m so, so grateful for the invitation."


    Diocletian''s eyes narrowed. All around, there was a ripple of confusion, and the moderator sighed.


    "Well, in that case, de''Godfrey? You''re out! Can we please have the next-"


    "Ah, one point of order," Zeke held up a hand. "I do believe that it''s required to turn over your swords between each round? Helps prevent cheating, and all that?"


    Diocletian''s face turned white, and the moderator sighed.


    "I suppose so. Seems silly to do it like this, but..." He caught a glimpse of the Headmistress approaching, and he shrugged. "Hand it over."


    Diocletian was caught, and he reluctantly passed the sword over. As the hilt touched the Moderator''s hand, he froze as still as a statue, and shouts and cries of surprise rang around.


    "The sword was enchanted!"


    "He''s been fossilized!"


    "Cheater!"


    Headmistress Florence hopped over the ropes and waved a hand in annoyance, and the sword clattered to the ground. The moderator reanimated and blinked a few times in surprise, and she glanced sharply at Diocletian.


    He took the hint and vanished, and then she turned to Zeke. Zeke simply held her gaze, and shrugged.


    "And now, no one will remember that I yielded," he bowed slightly. "Is that the way you''d like me to play the system?"


    She snorted, softly, but he could see that she was, at the very least, impressed that he had wormed his way out of it. He hopped over the ropes and started to walk away, and Victoria, Ralph, and Elise joined him.


    "And where are you headed now?" Ralph complained. "My legs are tired."


    "I am heading for that buffet," he glanced over at Victoria. "What''s the healthiest thing over there?"


    "The nuts and apples," she answered.


    "Good. Then that''s the only thing I''m not grabbing," he sighed as the tension slowly flowed out of him. "And then, we''re going to celebrate."


    As they made their way to the food tables, Zeke found himself surrounded by students who had watched his matches. Many congratulated him on his performance, and a few even apologized for underestimating him.


    The change in attitude was striking - just weeks ago, most of these same students had ignored or mocked him.


    "Looks like you''ve made some fans," Elise observed as Zeke piled his plate high with roast meat, bread, and sweets.


    "They''re just impressed I made it to the semi-finals," Zeke shrugged, but he couldn''t hide his pleased smile.


    "It''s more than that," Victoria said, joining them with her own carefully selected plate of food. "You exposed Diocletian as a cheater in front of everyone. That took both courage and cunning."


    "Speaking of Diocletian," Ralph lowered his voice, "what do you think the Headmistress will do to him?"


    "Probably nothing," Victoria replied grimly. "His family has too much influence. But his reputation has taken a hit. Everyone saw what happened."


    "And that might be punishment enough for now," Zeke said, taking a huge bite of roasted turkey leg. After weeks of Victoria''s strict pre-tournament diet, the food tasted like heaven.


    They found a spot under a large oak tree at the edge of the courtyard, away from the main crowd. As they ate, Zeke found himself truly relaxing for the first time in weeks.


    The tournament was over, he had performed far better than anyone had expected, and he had exposed Diocletian''s treachery without having to fight an enchanted sword.


    "So what happens now?" Elise asked after they had eaten their fill.


    "Now I prepare for the second Trial," Zeke replied. "The Headmistress said it would be a sparring match, two weeks after the Festival."


    "A sparring match should be straightforward enough," Ralph said optimistically.


    Victoria shook her head. "Nothing about the Trials is straightforward. There will be a twist, you can count on it."


    "Then we''ll figure it out when it comes," Zeke said confidently. "Today was supposed to be my public humiliation, and look how that turned out."


    As the afternoon wore on, they watched the final match of the tournament - the winner of the other semi-final against Diocletian, who had been allowed to continue despite the sword incident.


    Diocletian won easily, but his victory celebration was subdued, with only his closest allies cheering enthusiastically.


    Later, as the sun began to set, musicians took up positions around the courtyard, and the Festival transformed from a competitive event to a celebration. Students and professors alike danced to lively tunes, the tensions of the tournaments forgotten in the festive atmosphere.


    "Come on," Elise grabbed Zeke''s hand. "They''re starting the dancing!"


    "I don''t know how to dance," Zeke protested, but allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.


    "Neither do I," Elise laughed. "But that''s not going to stop me from trying!"


    As they joined the crowds of dancers, Zeke found himself surrounded by students from all houses, many of whom nodded to him in acknowledgment or raised glasses in his direction.


    It was a strange feeling, this new respect, but not an unpleasant one.


    For tonight, at least, he could enjoy it. Tomorrow would bring new challenges - the second Trial loomed just two weeks away, and Diocletian would surely be looking for revenge after today''s humiliation.


    But Zeke was no longer the untrained, uncertain boy who had arrived at Leoncrest just months ago. He was changing, growing stronger and more confident with each challenge he faced.


    And as he dancedunderthestarswith his friends, Zeke allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that he might actually succeed in completing all 34 Trials after all.


    "To the Fall Festival!" Ralph shouted, raising a cup of sweet cider. "And to Zeke de''Godfrey, who made it a lot more interesting than anyone expected!"


    Zeke laughed and raised his cup. "To the friends who helped make it possible!"


    As they toasted and continued celebrating, looked and saw the Headmistress watching him from across the courtyard. Her expression was unreadable, but she nodded slightly before turning away.


    Whether it was out of respect or simply acknowledgment of a game well played, Zeke couldn''t tell.


    But either way, he had survived the Fall Festival.


    [Scene Close]


    [Earned Emblems:] Heart of the Warrior, Endurance


    [Active Quests:]


    [Be Prepared: Get ready for the 2nd Trial]


    [Watchful: Keep an eye out for retribution]

 18. Campfire Stories

    <b>[Scene Loading...]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Castle - Dining Hall]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: October 17, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    Two days later, Zeke found himself wandering through the dining hall, looking for a place to sit down. Ralph was nowhere to be seen, having gotten stuck with extra duty in history class after he, well, Zeke still hadn''t been able to get the full story out of him, but he gathered that it was something to do with putting chalk into the professor''s mustache.


    In any case, Ralph wasn''t going to be free for dinner for some time, which left him with only Elise.


    And, on that day, Elise seemed to have been snagged by her instructor.


    Zeke caught Elise''s eyes as she was led from the hall, right behind the prudish-looking woman. Zeke winced, and Elise sighed, then waved quickly as she vanished.


    Zeke watched her go, then frowned and glanced around.


    "Hey! De''Godfrey! Over here!"


    Zeke glanced around and located Victoria sitting just a few tables away. She was sitting right next to the red-headed girl that he had seen earlier. What had her name been? He didn''t know.


    There were a few other duelists there, and he nodded and made his way over, sitting down right across from her.


    "Thanks," Zeke sighed. "I appreciate it."


    "Anything for one of my top duelists," Victoria shrugged. "By the way, we haven''t really had time to talk much since the fight, but that really was a brilliant move. Has to have hurt to surrender, but he would have killed you in a heartbeat."


    "The Sleep of Death enchantment," the redhead commented idly, picking at her food. "One of the most dangerous enchantments in the world, and outlawed in every civilized nation that we know of."


    "Really?" Zeke frowned. "I knew it was dangerous, but that bad?"


    "You saw what it did to the moderator," Victoria answered. "It freezes you solid. Diocletian probably had protective gloves or something that he was wearing. Actually, the fact that the moderator just grabbed it probably saved his life. The real danger from it comes when you just get nicked. If the enchantment only brushes you, it''ll only affect a small part of your body."


    "Which normally causes the blood in that part of your body to stop flowing," the redhead nodded, grimacing. "A hit in the chest will kill you within seconds. A hit to another part of your body? It depends, but it can cause you to lose limbs, and a blow to the head will really mess you up, as your heart and lungs suddenly get mixed signals from your brain. It''s really, really terrible, on more levels than I can express."


    "Good to know," Zeke muttered, then turned to the redhead. "It would seem that you know my name, but I''m afraid that I haven''t had the pleasure, at least not formally."


    The girl flashed a small smile. "Ingrid Stormhall."


    "Stormhall?" Zeke frowned. "Not a house name I recognize."


    "That''s because it''s not. The Stormhalls are named for what we do. Storm halls, or, if you want it in simple terms, attack castles," Ingrid shrugged with a smile. "We''re mercenaries, essentially. We''re actually not based out of Athia at all, our main fortress is located in the Dalformia."


    "So how did you get in here?" Zeke asked, amazed.


    "Oh, a word in the right person''s ear," she shrugged. "My particular branch of the family has been here for some time, serving different noble families in border skirmishes here and there. It was decided that if I came to the Academy, it might help legitimize our clan here."


    "I see," Zeke frowned, then shrugged. "So what are the two of you doing for your break before classes start again? We''ve still got a little bit of time, and I haven''t really decided how I''m going to spend it."


    "We were actually planning a camping trip," Victoria answered. "There are a handful of us going. Want to come? We''ll just be heading out into the Old Woods, nothing intense. A way to practice some survival skills while getting out of the castle."


    "I''m just getting out of the castle," Ingrid muttered. "I already know how to survive, thank you very much."


    "Then you can teach the rest of us!" Victoria declared.


    "I am not thinking about school," Ingrid snapped, then sighed and shook her head. "Sorry. Been an intense semester."


    "I''ll take your word for it," Zeke grinned. "But a camping trip sounds great! When are we leaving?"


    "This evening, northwest courtyard," Victoria answered. "We''re leaving an hour before sunset, so don''t be late!"


    "Wouldn''t miss it for anything," Zeke promised, already excited by the prospect of an adventure in the woods. After the tension of the tournament, getting away from the academy grounds sounded perfect.


    <b>¡¸?????? ??????????????????¡¹


    </b>


    <b>¡¾Event: Camping Trip¡¿


    </b>


    <b>¡¾Location: Old Woods¡¿</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Participants: Victoria, Ingrid, Zeke, and others¡¿</b>


    <b>


    ¡¾Departure: Northwest Courtyard, before sunset¡¿</b>


    After dinner, Zeke hurried back to his room to gather what he''d need for the camping trip. As he was packing his small travel bag, Ralph burst in, looking frazzled.


    "You would not believe the day I''ve had," Ralph groaned, flopping onto his bed. "Professor Hobbson made me write ''I will not alter the facial hair of Academy staff'' five hundred times. My hand feels like it''s about to fall off."


    "Maybe next time don''t put chalk in the professor''s mustache," Zeke suggested, struggling not to laugh. "What were you thinking anyway?"


    Ralph grinned. "It was a dare from a girl in House Byron. She bet me I wouldn''t do it."


    "And was it worth it?"


    "She''s agreed to go to the Winter Festival dance with me, so absolutely," Ralph sat up, noticing Zeke''s packing. "Where are you off to?"


    "Camping trip with Victoria and some others," Zeke explained. "We''re heading out to the Old Woods for the night."


    "The Old Woods?" Ralph''s eyes widened. "Did you know that place is supposedly haunted? There''s this ghost called the Wailing Widow who roams around looking for her lost husband. They say if she finds you alone, she''ll mistake you for him and drag you off to her grave!"


    "You made that up," Zeke accused, though he couldn''t help a small shiver running down his spine.


    "Did not! Ask anyone!" Ralph insisted. "Just be careful out there, is all I''m saying."


    "I survived the Dark Forest during my Trial. I think I can handle some made-up ghost," Zeke said confidently, though he made a mental note to stay close to the group. Just in case.


    That evening, Zeke made his way to the Northwest Courtyard right on time. A small group of students had assembled, several of which he recognized from the dueling class, but most of whom were new to him.


    Victoria waved as he walked up, and he nodded gratefully to her. He had a small bag slung over his back containing a change of clothes, a blanket, and a few other essentials that Ralph had insisted he''d need.


    "And I think that''s everyone!" Victoria beamed. "Shall we get going?"


    "Yes," Ingrid muttered. She didn''t seem particularly pleased, but Zeke was gathering that she wasn''t the sort of person who was ordinarily happy about things. "Let''s go."


    "Great!" Victoria pulled out her map and started walking toward the gate that led to the Old Forest. "Let''s see here. We''re going to want to cross the River at the Stone Bridge, and then-"


    "You''re holding the map upside-down," Ingrid muttered.


    "Am I?" Victoria frowned and flipped it sideways, then nodded. "Ah, yes! This way!"


    "You''re doing this just to annoy me," Ingrid growled.


    "Is it working?"


    Zeke smiled as he watched the banter between the two girls. They certainly had the simple ease that only came from people who had known each other for quite some time.


    Ingrid took the map after a few moments, and they struck off into the woods.


    The sun was already setting, and the path grew dark. One of the students, a mage, launched two flickering orbs that floated along in front of them, lighting the way.


    "Why didn''t we leave earlier in the day?" one of the other students complained.


    "Because your intrepid leader has a pillow for a brain," Ingrid commented.


    "Because that''s part of the fun!" Victoria answered. "Come on. Marching out to your campsite during the day is boring."


    "And practical."


    "And, in the daytime, you don''t see the ghosts of the Old Wood."


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "There are no such things as ghosts," Ingrid snapped.


    "Everyone knows that ghosts exist," Victoria countered.


    "Spirits exist, some evil and some good," Ingrid sounded like a professor. "Occasionally, the souls of the departed are allowed to return to the world to beg for favors or to give warnings, but they don''t do so of their own will."


    "Which people call ghosts."


    "No! The definition of a ghost is-"


    As the two girls continued their bickering, Zeke felt a strange mixture of amusement and unease. Ralph''s story about the Wailing Widow suddenly seemed less ridiculous as the shadows between the trees grew deeper and the forest sounds became more pronounced.


    "What about you, de''Godfrey?" one of the other students asked, falling into step beside him. "Do you believe in ghosts?"


    "I believe there are plenty of things in this world we don''t understand," Zeke replied diplomatically. "And I wouldn''t want to meet any of them alone in these woods."


    This earned him a laugh from the group as they continued their journey, passing by much of the territory that Zeke recognized from his first Trial.


    He found himself scanning the trees and underbrush, half-expecting to see signs of his previous passage or perhaps even evidence of his fight with the wolf.


    Finally, they departed from the main path and struck through the thick, twisted wood for about half an hour, coming to a clearing surrounded by old elms and oak trees.


    "And here we go," Victoria declared. "Let''s get this going!"


    The mage made a fire at the center of the clearing, along with creating more glowing orbs that floated out to hover around the edges of the area. The illumination revealed a handful of old stones, carved with strange squiggly marks.


    Zeke was sure that they were letters or symbols of some sort, but he couldn''t even begin to decipher them.


    "What are these stones?" he asked, running his fingers over the strange carvings.


    "No one knows for sure," Victoria replied, dropping her pack near the fire. "Some say they''re markers for ancient graves. Others think they were used for rituals long before the Academy was established."


    "Great," muttered one of the other students. "We''re camping on a burial ground. That''s not asking for trouble at all."


    "Relax," Ingrid said, "if anything was going to possess us for disturbing ancient resting places, it would have happened to the hundreds of students who''ve camped here before."


    "That''s... not actually reassuring," the student replied, causing everyone to laugh.


    A meal was placed over the fire, which Zeke was glad for as he was quite hungry, and tents were pitched. Zeke''s tent was nothing fancy, a little one that he had borrowed from Ralph, but it was good enough for a single person.


    He put it up right at the base of an oak, sheltered somewhat from the darkness around.


    As he worked on his tent, Zeke noticed something unusual about the oak tree. There was a strange hollow in the trunk, about head-height, that seemed deeper than natural.


    Curious, he peered inside and saw what looked like a small metal object.


    Reaching in carefully, Zeke pulled out a tarnished silver medallion on a broken chain. It bore the image of a sword crossed with what appeared to be a writing quill.


    "Find something interesting?" Victoria asked, appearing suddenly beside him.


    Zeke showed her the medallion. "It was in the tree. Any idea what it is?"


    Victoria examined it closely, her brow furrowing. "It looks like the emblem of a society that existed at the Academy decades ago - the Scribes of Steel, I think they were called. They were disbanded after some controversy, but I don''t know the details."


    "Why would it be hidden in a tree out here?"


    "Good question," Victoria handed it back to him. "Maybe someone was trying to hide evidence. Or maybe it''s just a lost trinket. Either way, it''s yours now - a souvenir from your first camping trip with us."


    Zeke pocketed the medallion, making a mental note to ask Adrian Levayne about it when they returned to the Academy.


    When the tents were all set up, the food was just about done, and Zeke came up to the fire where steaming hot potatoes and roasted chicken were passed around. It was simple, but it was lovely.


    Everyone ate their fill, and then sat back as they digested it all.


    "So, why don''t we all go around and share a memory from our childhood?" Victoria suggested. Ingrid groaned, and several other people looked away, but she pressed forward. "I have this memory of the first time I picked up a sword. I mean, like, really picked it up. I tried to duel the palace cat. I called it a coward for running away, and chased it all over the place for two days. I finally cornered it up in a redbud tree."


    She laughed, then sighed. "It still hasn''t regrown its tail."


    Several members of the group gasped in horror, and she burst out laughing.


    "I''m kidding, I''m kidding! I did try to chop it off, but the sword was blunt."


    Zeke laughed along with them all. After a moment, Ingrid spoke up as well.


    "I remember the first battle that I was involved in. I was six, and was watching it from a distance," her voice became distant. "We were attacking a castle that was held by a group of rebels in Agrad-Dul. They were part of some cult trying to end the world or something, I don''t really remember what exactly was happening there.


    All I remember is watching my father lead the charge. His shield was almost larger than his whole body, and he ran right through a torrent of arrows that should have killed him.


    When he reached the wall of the castle, he heaved up this grappling hook, which was connected to a metal cable that was almost impossible to cut through. I saw him climbing up, saw the rebels screaming and running around in terror. I''ll never forget it."


    There was silence for a long moment, and Zeke cleared his throat.


    "I remember when my brother, Artax, came home after completing the 34th Trial," he murmured. "He looked like a warrior out of one of my storybooks. I was so proud to see him standing there, ready to defend our world. I knew that there was nothing in the whole wide world that would be able to stop him."


    Zeke paused, thinking of his brother now - still strong in spirit but forever changed by his encounter with Socrax. "That''s why I''m here," he continued. "Not to replace him, but to stand beside him. To be the sword he can no longer wield."


    The group fell silent, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the clearing. After a moment, Victoria placed her hand on Zeke''s shoulder.


    "That''s what makes a true knight," she said softly. "Not the strength of your arm, but the strength of your heart."


    After that, everyone else shared their own memories - tales of first hunts, magical mishaps, childhood adventures. The stories ranged from hilarious to heartwarming, and Zeke found himself enjoying the camaraderie.


    These were his peers, fellow students on their own journeys to greatness, and for perhaps the first time since arriving at Leoncrest, he felt truly part of their world.


    As the fire burned lower and the night grew deeper, Victoria leaned forward with a mischievous gleam in her eye.


    "Now, who wants to hear about the ghost that haunts these very woods?"


    "Oh, not this again," Ingrid groaned, but the rest of the group eagerly gathered closer.


    "They say that long ago, before Leoncrest was even built, a powerful mage lived in these woods," Victoria began, her voice dropping to a whisper. "He was experimenting with dimensions beyond our own, seeking knowledge forbidden to mortals. One night, during a ritual performed right here in this clearing, he tore open a doorway between worlds."


    The fire seemed to dim as Victoria continued her tale. "Something came through that door - something ancient and hungry. It devoured the mage, but not before he sealed it away using his own life force.


    They say his spirit still guards the seal, and on nights when the veil between worlds is thin, you can hear him whispering warnings to those who listen."


    A twig snapped somewhere in the darkness beyond the clearing, causing several students to jump. Victoria grinned at their reaction.


    "Just a story," she assured them. "Probably."


    "Definitely just a story," Ingrid said firmly. "And with that, I think it''s time we all got some rest. We have to hike back tomorrow, after all."


    As everyone began to retire to their tents, Zeke found himself staring into the darkness between the trees. Was that a flicker of movement, or just shadows dancing in the firelight?


    He shook his head, smiling at his own imagination. Victoria''s story had obviously gotten to him more than he''d like to admit.


    When that was over, everyone started retiring to their tents. Victoria made a comment about yelling if you get attacked by ghosts, but Zeke was hardly paying any attention.


    He slid back into his tent and was about to zip it shut when Ingrid poked her head inside.


    "Mind if we chat for a second?"


    Zeke nodded. "Not at all."


    Ingrid stepped into the tent and sat down. It was hardly large enough for the two of them, but they just fit. "I was just wanting to ask you about your brother, Artax."


    "What about him?" Zeke frowned.


    "I just... I was wondering what it was like growing up in his shadow," Ingrid frowned. "I don''t mean to ask it like that, just so you know. I..." She sighed. "My older brother was supposed to be the warrior of the family, but he was crippled in a carriage accident as a child. I''ve taken up the banner, and obviously managed to make it here, but I know he wishes that he could be in my shoes."


    Zeke frowned and thought for a moment. "Honestly, it really wasn''t too bad."


    "It wasn''t?" Ingrid pressed. "You''re sure?"


    "I''m sure," Zeke nodded. "If I think that if Artax had treated me differently, it might have been, but he didn''t. He didn''t treat me with kid gloves, like I was this fragile little thing that couldn''t be broken. He just treated me like a brother.


    For everyone else, I was either a key to getting near to Artax, or I was just the spoiled prince. For him, I was his best friend. There was a lot about my life that I didn''t like, but taking a backseat to him? That wasn''t one of them."


    "Hmm," Ingrid frowned and nodded. "I''ll keep that in mind. Thanks."


    "Anything," Zeke shrugged, then nodded to her. "So what''s the real reason you came here?"


    "Real reason?" Ingrid asked. "What do you mean?"


    "I mean, your family has specialized in warfare for generations, the way you tell it. You know how to command an army," Zeke answered. "You almost certainly know how to wield a sword, but you''re not in a combat line of study.


    You''re not here just for legitimacy, either. New noble families rise all the time, all you''d have to do is buy some land and build a castle, and then demand a place in the Senate."


    "It''s not quite that simple, but I do know what you''re saying," Ingrid flashed him a small smile, then sighed and shook her head. "We only just met. I can''t reveal all my secrets to you, not just yet."


    "Fair enough," Zeke bowed his head.


    "That said... You''re perceptive," Ingrid slipped back out of the tent, pausing a moment to glance in at him. "I''ll certainly give you that. Catch you around?"


    With that, she was gone, and Zeke settled down in his borrowed tent. Just as he was about to close his eyes, he remembered the medallion he''d found.


    He pulled it out and studied it once more by the dim light filtering through the tent fabric.


    The sword and quill symbol was intriguing. A society that combined combat and scholarship? That sounded exactly like the kind of group that might help him prepare for the Trials.


    He wondered if they still existed in some form, perhaps operating in secret.


    Tucking the medallion safely away, Zeke lay back and listened to the sounds of the night. Muffled conversation continued to float around, punctuated by the crackling of the fire.


    Wind blew softly through the treetops, and the flickering light of the fire made long shadows across the walls of the tent.


    It was nice... Made even nicer by the fact that he now had friends to share it all with. He really was starting to make his way at the academy.


    He only hoped that, as time passed, he''d be able to continue that trend.


    Sometime in the middle of the night, Zeke was awakened by a strange sound. It wasn''t quite a voice, nor was it the wind - but something in between, a whisper that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.


    Zeke sat up, fully alert. Was this part of Victoria''s ghost story come to life? Or perhaps some prank being played by one of the other students?


    The sound came again, slightly clearer this time. It almost seemed to be saying a word. His name? No, something else...


    Curiosity overcoming caution, Zeke slipped out of his tent. The clearing was silent, the fire now reduced to glowing embers.


    Everyone else appeared to be asleep in their tents. The floating lights created by the mage student still hovered at the edges of the clearing, casting a soft, ghostly glow.


    The sound came once more, definitely from the woods beyond the clearing. Against his better judgment, Zeke moved toward it, drawn by some instinct he couldn''t explain.


    At the edge of the clearing, just beyond the circle of light, he paused. This was foolish. The woods were dangerous enough in daylight, let alone in the middle of the night.


    He should go back to his tent and forget about the strange noise.


    But then he saw it - a faint blue glow between the trees, pulsing gently like a heartbeat. The medallion in his pocket suddenly felt warm against his leg.


    Before Zeke could decide what to do, a hand clasped his shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around to find Ingrid standing behind him.


    "Going somewhere?" she asked quietly, her eyes narrow with suspicion.


    "I thought I heard something," Zeke explained, glancing back toward where he''d seen the glow. It was gone now, the forest dark and still once more.


    Ingrid followed his gaze, then shook her head. "The Old Woods play tricks on the mind, especially at night. Go back to your tent, de''Godfrey. Whatever you think you heard, it''s not worth risking your neck over."


    As they walked back to the tents, Zeke couldn''t shake the feeling that something significant had just happened - or almost happened.


    The medallion had cooled in his pocket, but the memory of that pulsing blue light remained vivid in his mind.


    He would definitely be asking Adrian about the Scribes of Steel when they returned to the Academy.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior, Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    </b>


    <b>[Be Prepared: Get ready for the 2nd Trial]


    </b>


    <b>[New: Investigate the Scribes of Steel medallion]</b>

 19. Ancient Mysteries

    <b>[Scene Loading...]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Castle - Tower 1]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: October 20, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    The castle halls remained quiet for the next several days, as the break between terms continued. A great many of the students seemed to have flooded south to the Capital, likely to spend time both in the Senate and in whatever flavors of debauchery the Capital city had to offer.


    Zeke had no particular desire to go, particularly since none of his family was going to be there anyway.


    Instead, he spent his mornings training with Victoria and whoever else showed up at the practice grounds, his afternoons exploring the castle grounds, and his evenings researching in the library. The medallion he''d found in the woods never left his pocket - a constant reminder of the mystery he hoped to solve.


    On the morning of the 20th, he was just making his way off the sparring courts and toward the dining hall when a little paper bird fluttered up to him. It landed in his hand and unfolded, and he frowned down at an elegantly-scrawled note.


    "Dear Zeke de''Godfrey, I would like to request the pleasure of your presence in the library at some point today. Signed, Adrian de''Levayne."


    Zeke brightened, and he nodded, even though there was no way that anyone could see the response. This might be his chance to ask about the Scribes of Steel.


    With that, he stuffed the note into his pocket and started on down the stairs.


    It didn''t take long for him to gather up his breakfast, and he made his way to the library. He ate on the way, finishing up a few rolls (which Victoria almost certainly would have told him not to eat).


    A moment later, he arrived in the library, where Adrian looked up from a book that he was reading.


    "Ah! Zeke! Good to see you."


    "Thanks for inviting me," Zeke shrugged. "Sorry I''m a bit sweaty. Early morning workout, and all that."


    "Yes, so I''ve heard," Adrian was seated at a table, and gestured for Zeke to sit down across from him. "I''ve been following your progress, and from everything that I can tell, you''re doing an excellent job at pretty much everything."


    "I''m improving rapidly," Zeke countered. "That''s pretty far from just doing a good job."


    "Well, we all must start somewhere, and you''re off to a better one than most people, I daresay," Adrian sighed and folded his hands. "That''s why I''ve been hesitant to contact you. I know how busy you''ve been, and it seems that not even going on break can properly knock you down."


    "Hey, the classes aren''t going to get any easier when they come back into session," Zeke paused, then sighed. "I should probably be studying my history a bit more, too, but if I pay attention in his lectures I can at least get a halfway decent grade on his tests, so I''m a lot less concerned about that class than Aura Infusion and Swordsmanship."


    "Fair enough," Adrian nodded. "And what of your politics class?"


    "Honestly? It feels like a joke to me," Zeke shrugged. "I''m passing it with a high enough margin that I''m not concerned."


    "Good enough, I suppose," Adrian frowned for a moment, then sighed. "Well, I don''t mean to sound mysterious, but would you care to come with me?"


    Zeke frowned and slowly nodded. "What for?"


    "I have something to show you that might be of interest," Adrian replied, rising from his seat. "Something related to a certain medallion you might have recently acquired."


    Zeke''s hand instinctively went to his pocket where the Scribes of Steel medallion rested. "How did you know about that?"


    Adrian smiled cryptically. "I make it my business to know many things, young de''Godfrey. Now, shall we?"


    Without another word of explanation, Adrian stood up and slipped back through the rows of books. Zeke followed, and found himself traveling deeper into the library than he had yet gone.


    Back through the shelves, deeper and deeper into the sea of knowledge, until they came to a small doorway that led to an office. Adrian pushed open the door to reveal a simple desk, as well as a small bookshelf.


    He lifted a hand, and a handful of crystals around the area began to glow, lighting it well. They stepped inside, and he closed the door once more, motioning for Zeke to sit down across the desk from him.


    "So this is your office?" Zeke asked, taking his seat.


    "Yes," Adrian sighed as he sat down. "In my role as curator of the Library, I rarely use it, though. The majority of my work, at least by volume, comes from helping students locate the volumes that they need, as it can be quite tricky to find some of them.


    I also coordinate the acquisition of other volumes from an assortment of places across the nations, put books back when they get returned, track down books that have gone missing, and that sort of thing."


    "But sometimes you do need this office," Zeke frowned, wondering exactly where the conversation was going.


    "Yes," Adrian paused. "There is some knowledge in the world that should be kept secret, or that should be revealed only to certain, select people. This room is where I write letters that touch upon such subjects to one degree or another, or where I meet with people about such matters."


    "Shouldn''t knowledge just be free? Accessible to all?" Zeke asked, confused.


    "Some knowledge, yes," Adrian confirmed. "Other knowledge, no. For example, only a few years ago, one of our students accidentally discovered a recipe for creating a potion of death.


    Even a whiff could make a person sick, and to drink it would have been instant death. Pouring said potion into a river would have poisoned the land for hundreds of miles downstream.


    That sort of knowledge is not the sort of thing that needed to be given out. We recorded the recipe as she related it, swore her to secrecy, and then buried it. Well, I should say, I spent several weeks studying the recipe, trying to figure out exactly what made it tick."


    "Why would you do that?" Zeke asked.


    "Because death potions have long been known to the world," Adrian shrugged. "Witches, doctors, and even well-meaning peasants have long since stumbled upon them. What was startling to us is that there are a few plants and herbs that are known to be key ingredients in such compounds, and for generations, none of them have been allowed to grow upon Academy grounds.


    The new recipe that she provided contained none of them, but I was able to repeat the experiment to confirm that it did exactly what she claimed. After some study, and comparing to old recipes, I was able to discern that one of the other common ingredients in the old potions, long since assumed to be a mostly inert ingredient, was actually far more powerful than we realized.


    We were then able to take steps to limit access to said ingredient on Academy grounds, hopefully preventing anyone from being hurt in the future."


    "I have to say, I''m not sure exactly what you''re driving at," Zeke frowned.


    "I know I''m getting to it in a roundabout way, but," Adrian sighed. "In my job, I know a great many things. Some of them are good, and some are bad. All are useful, in the right hands.


    What I am going to tell you is like that. For you, it could become the key to unraveling an ancient mystery, or it could destroy you. The choice will largely lie in your hands."


    Zeke felt his heart beginning to hammer faster. "Okay. I''m ready."


    "I''m not certain that you are, but I''m not going to turn back now," Adrian bit his lip, then plowed forward. "I think someone has been trying to kill your brother, Artax, for far longer than he''s willing to admit."


    "What?" Zeke blinked in surprise. Of all the things that Adrian could have said, that certainly wasn''t it. "What do you mean?"


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "I''ve spoken to your brother, briefly, since the incident with the dragon. He does believe that he was tricked, and he said that he had told you as much, but he believes it to have been a crime of opportunity, nothing more," Adrian answered, folding his hands.


    "I, however, believe that someone has been trying to kill your brother since his time here at the Academy. The first assassination attempt happened when he hadn''t been here much longer than you, actually."


    Zeke''s mouth went dry. "You mean like using an enchanted sword in a fight?"


    "No," Adrian shook his head. "What happened with Diocletian was unfortunate, but was nothing more than a jealous peer with a few party tricks up his sleeve. What happened to your brother was far different.


    He was on his three-day march, the first Trial. He didn''t do that one until later into the year, and coming off of the desert, he was weary. He remembers striking his foot on something hard, and the next thing he knew, he was being pulled out of the river next to the castle.


    Everyone just assumed that he had gone down to the stepping stones and fallen in, or stumbled, and in his exhausted state, collapsed into the river."


    "You think differently?" Zeke queried.


    "I do," Adrian confirmed. "I was one of the first people to examine him, and when I did, I found something odd. There was a hole through his boot, punched clean through the leather sole.


    He hadn''t taken his combat boots, you see, since he didn''t want them to slow him down. Being less reinforced, it would have been possible to puncture it with some sort of poison.


    When I removed his boot, I found a matching puncture mark on the side of his foot, near his toe. I am convinced that someone struck him with a poisoned weapon, it could have been an arrow, or a dagger, or a sword, or any number of other things, and then threw his body into the river.


    When I attempted to bring it up to the Headmaster at the time, I was rebuffed, and when I returned to Artax, his boots had been swapped for new ones. The puncture mark was gone, and the wound on his foot was chalked up to bashing his foot against a stone or piece of wood or something similar in the river.


    Even he refused to believe me, but I am not one to be deceived."


    Zeke leaned forward, his mind racing with the implications. If someone had been targeting Artax years ago, they might now have shifted their focus to him.


    "You said something about an ancient mystery," Zeke crossed his arms. "What''s that?"


    "I''ll get to that in just a second. Let''s not be hasty," Adrian answered. "The point that I am trying to make is that I believe that someone was after his blood, and it wasn''t the last time that they tried.


    In several other trials, strange things happened that I believe weren''t just chance. I warned Artax, but he wouldn''t listen to me. He was certain that I was crazy, or at the least, that I was simply being over zealous. I believe that what he said was I needed to pull my nose out of my books, because I was seeing conspiracy where there wasn''t any."


    "Interesting," Zeke crossed his arms.


    "All of this leads to the circumstances that led him to that mountainside," Adrian paused for a moment. "I''ve been digging into that fateful trip, and something strange appeared to me.


    In your brother''s mission logs, it seems that the only reason that they were in that village, where they could receive the message to walk into the trap, was because of a coincidence in and of itself."


    "And what was that?" Zeke leaned forward.


    "Three weeks prior, he had been traveling through the city of Magnolia Root. There, he was planning to take a more southern road, heading toward a disturbance on the western front involving the possibility of some cave trolls.


    Nothing major, just routine work for the greatest knight of the realm. It was at that time that his second in command, Constantine, came to him and informed him that there was a report of bandits to the north.


    They traveled that way, and apparently chased the bandits for some distance before losing the trail. By that point, it was easier to continue in a different direction westward, instead of traveling back down to the place where they had begun."


    "So if the bandits were a ruse," Zeke said, his pulse quickening.


    "It ensured that he would be in the right place when the time came," Adrian confirmed. "And that is what scares me. If what Artax thinks happened is true, then it merely means that one of the assorted noble families keeps tabs on the Dragons of Calamity.


    Worrisome, but not the end of the world. For someone to have orchestrated such an elaborate ruse, though, speaks to something far darker. It becomes much more premeditated instead of simply a crime of opportunity."


    "Why would they want Artax dead?" Zeke demanded.


    "That is, indeed, the question," Adrian sighed. "I truly wish that I could say, and that brings me back to the ancient mystery. The eight Dragons of Calamity. You''ve heard of them?"


    "Only in legends," Zeke shrugged.


    "Legends are often enough based on truth," Adrian flashed a small, worried smile. "They say that when the dragons move, the world quakes. When the dragons snort, the world burns. When the dragons strike, the world crumbles. I fear for this, and I fear for it greatly."


    Adrian stood up and moved to a small bookshelf behind his desk. He pulled out an old volume bound in faded leather and set it before Zeke.


    Opening it carefully, he revealed pages of ancient text and illustrations of fearsome dragons.


    "The Dragons of Calamity are not merely beasts," Adrian explained, pointing to an illustration. "They are forces of nature, ancient beings with powers beyond our comprehension. According to these texts, they appear when the world is out of balance, when there is too much corruption in the seats of power."


    He turned the page to show an illustration of knights battling a massive dragon. "Throughout history, the only force that has successfully opposed them has been the Knightly Orders, particularly those dedicated to maintaining balance in the world."


    "Like House Godfrey," Zeke murmured.


    "Precisely," Adrian nodded. "Your family has a long tradition of standing against such threats. Which brings me to this." He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a medallion identical to the one Zeke had found in the woods.


    "The Scribes of Steel," Zeke breathed.


    Adrian looked surprised. "You know of them?"


    Zeke pulled out his own medallion and placed it next to Adrian''s. "I found this in the Old Woods during a camping trip. Victoria said they were some kind of society at the Academy."


    "They were much more than that," Adrian said quietly. "The Scribes of Steel were an order founded within Leoncrest over a century ago, dedicated to two purposes: preserving knowledge about the Dragons of Calamity, and training knights capable of standing against them when they returned."


    "What happened to them?" Zeke asked.


    "They were disbanded about forty years ago," Adrian replied. "Officially, because they were engaging in forbidden magical research. Unofficially..." He paused, glancing at the door.


    "Unofficially?" Zeke prompted.


    "Unofficially, I believe they discovered something that certain powerful parties didn''t want known. Something about the Dragons of Calamity and who might be controlling their appearances."


    Zeke''s mind reeled with the implications. "You think someone is controlling the Dragons? Making them attack specific targets?"


    "I don''t know for certain," Adrian admitted. "But I''ve been researching this for years, and the patterns are too convenient to be coincidence.


    The Dragons always seem to appear at moments that benefit certain factions. And your brother''s encounter with Socrax is a prime example."


    "But who would have that kind of power?" Zeke asked. "And why target my family specifically?"


    "That''s what I''ve been trying to discover," Adrian said. "And it''s why I wanted to speak with you today. The fact that you found this medallion is... significant. I believe it was meant for you to find."


    "By who?"


    "That''s the question, isn''t it?" Adrian smiled. "The Scribes of Steel may have been officially disbanded, but some believe they continue their work in secret. I think they''ve been watching you, Zeke. And I think they''re trying to help you."


    Zeke turned the medallion over in his hand, feeling its weight. "So what should I do with this?" he asked, feeling a mixture of excitement and unease.


    "For now? Keep it close," Adrian said. "And watch for signs. The Scribes were known for leaving clues in plain sight, messages that only the right people would understand."


    Adrian stood up, signaling that their private conversation was nearing its end. "Remember what I was saying at the beginning. Some knowledge is best if it is simply stored away. Such as, for example, old recipes for death potions.


    Then, when new opportunities arise, when new things happen, you have a point of reference to compare it to. What has happened to Artax could easily happen to you, too. Don''t give anyone that chance."


    With that, Adrian rose, and gestured idly with his hand. The door of the room sprang open, and Zeke bowed his head as he rose.


    A moment later, he slipped out, and Adrian followed him.


    "One more thing," Adrian said as they walked back through the library. "Your second Trial is approaching. Be exceptionally careful. If someone has been targeting members of House Godfrey, the Trials would be the perfect opportunity to strike."


    "I''ll keep my eyes open," Zeke promised.


    "Good. Oh, and regarding the Scribes of Steel," Adrian added in a lower voice, "there''s an old storage room in the east wing of Tower 3, fifth floor. It used to be their meeting place. Might be worth a look."


    Zeke nodded, his mind already racing with plans to visit the storage room at the first opportunity.


    As they approached the main area of the library, they found Ralph sitting at a table, surrounded by books on metalworking. He looked up as they approached.


    "There you are!" Ralph exclaimed. "I''ve been looking all over for you. Victoria''s been asking if you''re coming to afternoon training."


    "I''ll be there," Zeke assured him, then turned to Adrian. "Thank you for the... historical discussion. It was enlightening."


    "Any time," Adrian smiled. "And do let me know if you find any other interesting artifacts during your explorations."


    As Zeke and Ralph left the library, Ralph nudged him. "What was that all about? Secret librarian business?"


    "Something like that," Zeke replied, his hand closing around the medallion in his pocket. "Just learning about some old Academy history."


    "Boring," Ralph declared. "Anyway, you missed breakfast, and I heard Elise is looking for you too. Something about that weird blue light you saw in the woods."


    Zeke''s pulse quickened. "She found something?"


    "Don''t know, but she seemed excited," Ralph shrugged. "Said she''d be in the east courtyard after lunch."


    Zeke nodded, his mind whirling with all he''d learned. Adrian''s revelations about Artax, the Scribes of Steel, the Dragons of Calamity - it was all connected somehow.


    And now Elise might have discovered something about the strange light in the woods.


    The second Trial was coming, and Zeke now understood it wasn''t just a test of his abilities - it might be a test of his survival skills as well. Someone had tried to kill Artax during his Trials, and they might try the same with him.


    But unlike his brother, Zeke was forewarned. And he was determined not to fall into the same trap.


    As he walked through the castle halls, the medallion warm in his pocket, Zeke felt a strange mixture of fear and excitement. There were mysteries to be solved, dangers to face, and adventures to be had.


    Just like the heroes in the stories Artax used to tell him.


    With luck, he''d be able to see the signs of trouble before he wound up dead.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior, Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    </b>


    <b>[Be Prepared: Get ready for the 2nd Trial]


    </b>


    <b>[Investigate: Find the Scribes of Steel meeting room]


    [Meet Elise: Discuss the strange blue light]</b>

 20. Midnight

    <b>[Scene Loading...]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Castle - Tower 1]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: October 25, y. 485 of the Fourth Ag</b>e]


    Time continued to turn, and the empty halls seemed to grow ever more worrisome and dark. Zeke wasn''t the sort of person to jump at shadows, but he also wasn''t the sort of person to just ignore a threat, and what Adrian had told him was quite worrisome, indeed.


    It made him wonder what might be in store for him, and he found himself often pondering the consequences. Was that a shadow in the garden? Or was it an assassin? Would it be better to try to kill him from the shadows, as they had so far always tried to do with Artax, or would it be better to just kill him and deal with the consequences?


    There was no way of knowing.


    Since learning about the possible threats against his family, Zeke had been spending his spare time exploring the castle, mapping out escape routes and hiding spots. He''d even begun carrying a small knife in his boot - just in case.


    Not that he was scared, exactly. More like... prepared.


    He''d also managed to sneak into the old Scribes of Steel meeting room that Adrian had mentioned. The door had been locked, but Zeke had picked up a thing or two from Ralph about getting into places he wasn''t supposed to be.


    The room had been mostly empty, just dusty shelves and tables, but he''d found an old tome hidden behind a loose stone in the wall. He hadn''t had time to examine it thoroughly yet, but he planned to take it to Adrian soon.


    Ralph was certainly no help with all the mysterious goings-on. Zeke flopped back on his bedroom, five days after the conversation with Adrian, as Ralph entered the room for the evening.


    "Oh, you have no idea what I just had to do," Ralph groaned and threw himself onto his own bed. "I just had to scrub all the desks in that classroom. Every. Single. One. Do you have any idea how much gunk there is underneath some of those desks? The bottom of the seats, under the lids... Bleh!"


    "I think I''ve seen you picking your nose in that class a few times," Zeke commented wryly. "Might you be one of the contributors?"


    "What? You have no-" Ralph snapped, then paused. "Wait. You''re not even in that class with me."


    Zeke just shrugged and laughed, and Ralph threw a pillow at him. They both sighed, when suddenly a knock came at the door.


    "Door''s open!" Zeke called out. A moment later, it popped open, and Elise poked her head inside.


    "Mind if I come in?"


    "Sure," Zeke shrugged. "It''s only half an hour until curfew, though. Wouldn''t want you to get stuck here."


    "Oh, I''m not staying," Elise shook her head. "I just wanted to invite you guys to come with me to something. There''s a cooking class happening over in Tower 6, and I thought you might find it fun."


    "A cooking class?" Ralph snorted. "Nah, count me out. I don''t need to be doing servant stuff."


    "Zeke?" She glanced over at Zeke, who frowned.


    "Ah, half an hour until curfew?" He asked, pointedly.


    "Oh, don''t worry about that," she shook her head, and held out a pass. "The professor in charge of it is giving out these things. They''ll protect you from the gargoyles. Professors have been handing them out left and right through the break."


    "Really?" Zeke frowned and took the pass from her. It clearly read: Good for the night of October 25th, and will protect the bearer from an untimely death at the hands of the Guard-goyles, provided that they are either on their way to the cooking class, or on the way back to their dorms, without making unnecessary detours or otherwise taking advantage of..."


    Ralph snatched the note out of his hand and read it quickly, then handed it back. "So what exactly do they not want us students doing at night? They really go out of their way to make sure we know that we can''t be out and about."


    "I can actually answer that," Elise shrugged. "A lot of black magic can only be accomplished at night. They used to not have a curfew at all, but students were doing all sorts of rituals and things.


    There was actually an incident where a budding necromancer accidentally summoned an army of skeletons that almost destroyed the castle. They started enforcing the curfew at 10:00, but some rituals can be done the moment that the sun goes down, so then they had to bump it back even more..."


    "So a few bad apples ruined it for all of us," Ralph scowled.


    "Something like that, yeah," Elise shrugged. "So, Zeke, you coming?"


    A cooking class wasn''t exactly what Zeke had planned for his evening. He''d been hoping to review some of the sword forms Victoria had taught him, or maybe take another look at that book he''d found.


    But there was something in Elise''s expression - a mixture of hope and nervousness - that made him reconsider.


    Besides, wandering the castle after dark with an official pass? That could be useful knowledge for later.


    "Sure!" Zeke grinned, hopping off his bed. "Let''s give it a whirl."


    Elise smiled, clearly relieved, and the two of them left the room and started down the stairs. All around them, a handful of people started trickling back into their rooms, not wanting to get caught outside.


    Then, as curfew hit, and they strode through the main halls of the Academy, Zeke heard a rumble as the very stones came to life.


    All around them, windows swung open, and gargoyles slowly climbed inside. They were huge and hulking, just like before, and several of them turned to look at the two students.


    Instantly, they spread their wings and stalked toward the two, growling and snarling.


    "Stop!"


    "We have a pass!" Zeke whipped out his pass and held it out. It flared with protective magic, and the gargoyles grumbled and came to a stop.


    "Hrumph. No tasty students tonight."


    "Come on," another one grunted. "Check gardens. Almost caught one there, last night."


    The gargoyles huffed and walked off, and Zeke felt a sign of relief. Elise beamed, and they struck off down the hall once more.


    Here and there, they had to stop to show off their pass, but they soon enough came to Tower 6, and made their way up to the immense kitchen that served as one of the culinary classrooms.


    "This is amazing," Zeke whispered to Elise as they entered. "I''ve never actually seen the castle kitchens before."


    "You''ve never been in a kitchen?" Elise asked, sounding shocked.


    "Well, not to cook anything," Zeke admitted. "Just to steal cookies when the cook wasn''t looking."


    Elise laughed. "Sounds about right for a noble."


    The room was really quite impressive. It was huge, with over a dozen ovens already heated and crackling. A workstation stood next to each one, while a professor at the front of the room turned to look at them entering.


    "Ah, welcome! Looks like you made it past the gargoyles?" The woman was younger, and had vibrant hair that gleamed in the light. Zeke wondered if she was another upper-level student, putting on a class for whatever her field of study happened to be. "They''re so creepy, I think."


    Zeke frowned and glanced over at Elise. He wondered if, perhaps, part of the reason that the class had been scheduled at night was simply to give all the students a bit of a taste of what they would be looking at if, indeed, they tried to slip out at night.


    Curiosity could be a powerful thing, and letting people see the gargoyles up close would likely prove to be quite the deterrent.


    "Yup, we made it!" Zeke nodded. He glanced around, and found two other students standing at another workstation. "What''s this here class going to look like?"


    "If you don''t mind, I''m going to wait for just a few more minutes to see if anyone else shows up," the woman smiled. "Then we''ll get down to business!"


    While they waited, Zeke examined the kitchen equipment with curiosity. He''d never paid much attention to how food was prepared - it just appeared when he was hungry.


    But now, looking at all the tools and ingredients, he felt a strange sense of excitement. This was something entirely new to learn.


    "Have you ever made bread before?" he asked Elise.


    "Of course," she replied. "Back home, we baked fresh bread every other day. My mother taught me when I was just six years old."


    "Well, I''ve never made anything more complicated than a mud pie," Zeke admitted with a grin. "So don''t laugh too hard when I mess this up."


    "Don''t worry," Elise smiled. "I''ll help you."


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Zeke wasn''t sure if anyone else was going to show up, but within ten minutes, the room was packed. He and Elise managed to snag a workstation close to the front of the room, but by the time everyone was there, there were no more desks available.


    The professor seemed surprised, but nonplussed.


    "Alright! This is great!" She clapped her hands. "Welcome to this meeting, I hope you''re all feeling great tonight. My name is Ericka de''Burgson, and I''m here to talk to you about the joys of cooking. Most nobles see it as little more than a servant''s task, but it''s really much more than that."


    She launched into a brief introduction, which Zeke frankly thought was rather unnecessary, given that everyone had already showed up and obviously didn''t need to be convinced. Finally, she shrugged.


    "Alright! For this first class, we''re going to be baking bread. Those of you at a workstation will go first, and then anyone who doesn''t have one will fill in as stations become available.


    Assuming that there''s a demand for it, we''ll meet in a larger room, next time," she clapped her hands in what seemed to Zeke to be slight over-excitement, then gestured at their tables. "Inside the cabinets underneath your cabinets, you''ll find some ingredients, bowls, and utensils. Start pulling them all out, and set them up like I have them up here!"


    Zeke nodded and followed along as best he could. Elise was able to quickly take everything out, she seemed to have a much better idea of how to set up a kitchen than he did.


    Which, all things considered, made sense, since she had grown up as a commoner.


    "So what goes first?" Zeke asked, looking at the array of ingredients.


    "We''ll start with the starter," Elise explained, reaching for a small container. "It''s a mixture of flour and water that''s been fermenting. That''s what makes the bread rise and gives it flavor."


    "It smells... interesting," Zeke commented, wrinkling his nose at the sour scent.


    "Wait until you taste the finished bread," Elise promised. "It''s worth it."


    In any case, they soon started in, mixing a bit of a gloppy paste (the "starter") with some water and sugar, and then adding some salt and flour. When it was all said and done, they had a rather lumpy blob of dough, which Zeke began to knead over and over and over.


    "You''re really going to want to work at it!" Ericka called out. "Actually, everyone who''s kneading, why don''t you move away from your workstations, and let the people who haven''t had a chance yet take a go?"


    Zeke nodded, and moved the bowl to the middle of the classroom. There were a few tables there, which were small enough that they wouldn''t have worked to actually make the bread, but which worked well enough for just kneading.


    Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he drew in a deep breath.


    "Tiring already?" Elise taunted him. "My mother used to be able to bake six loaves of bread a day."


    "Really?" Zeke grinned, accepting the challenge. "Well, just watch this."


    He attacked the dough with renewed vigor, pushing and folding it with determination. His arms started to burn after a few minutes, but he wasn''t about to give up.


    This might just be bread dough, but it was also a test of endurance - something he''d been working on every day with Victoria.


    After about five minutes of intense kneading, though, even Zeke had to admit the task was more tiring than he''d expected. Without missing a beat in his rhythm, he whispered under his breath, "Activate Endurance."


    <b>[Endurance Emblem has been activated]</b>


    A warm energy flowed through his arms, easing the burn without removing it completely. Zeke continued kneading with a satisfied smile.


    Elise laughed and sat down. "Did you really just activate an Emblem to help you knead bread?"


    "A knight uses every tool at his disposal," Zeke replied with mock seriousness. "Even against fearsome dough monsters."


    "You''re ridiculous," Elise said, but she was smiling.


    Zeke continued working the dough, finding a certain satisfaction in the rhythmic motion. It was tedious work, but there was something almost meditative about it.


    He was quite surprised by the time that Ericka finally walked over and told him that it was good to go.


    "Perfect!" She nodded. "Now, just let it sit there for a little bit. We''ll need to let it rise for about an hour."


    "How about a minute?" Elise asked.


    "Well..."


    Elise snapped her fingers, and the lump of dough began to grow in front of Zeke''s eyes. His jaw dropped, and Erika blinked in surprise.


    "You... ah... you can control time?"


    "Only when baking things," Elise muttered. Sweat broke out on her forehead. The minute passed slowly, and when it was done, the loaf had more than doubled in size. Erika shrugged, and nodded.


    "Alright, then. Knead it again, then shape it and get it into the oven."


    She walked on, and Zeke turned to Elise with wide eyes.


    "That was amazing! Why didn''t you tell me you could do that?"


    "It''s not exactly an impressive magic," Elise said with a self-conscious shrug. "Most of the mages here can shoot fireballs or levitate objects. I can make bread rise faster."


    "Are you kidding? That''s incredible!" Zeke insisted. "Think about it - in a siege, when food is scarce, you could help feed an entire castle. That''s not just impressive, it''s life-saving."


    Elise looked at him with surprise, then smiled. "I never thought about it like that."


    Zeke started kneading the dough again, releasing a small from the dough that was equally sour and disgusting, as well as actually quite pleasant. When he had finished, Elise had brought over a baking pan, and he handed the dough off to her.


    With expert hands, she tore the dough into strips, rolled it out into long strands, braided it together, and then lay it across the baking pan carefully.


    "Want to try a bit of braiding?" she asked, setting aside a portion of the dough.


    "Sure," Zeke said, watching carefully as she demonstrated. His first attempt was clumsy, the strands uneven and the braid loose, but Elise nodded encouragingly.


    "Not bad for a first try," she said. "Here, like this."


    She guided his hands, showing him how to roll the dough evenly and braid it tightly. With her help, his second attempt looked much better.


    "You''re a natural," she said, placing both braids on the baking pan.


    A moment later, it was in the oven, and she sat back down next to him.


    "Twenty minutes, and we''ll have freshly-baked bread for the taking."


    Zeke whistled and shook his head. "How''d you do that? The speeding up the rise time?"


    "It was one of the random things that I was able to do which convinced me to seek admission into the academy. I learned, naturally, to speed up the speed at which dough rises, or I could will plants to grow faster, that sort of thing.


    I also learned to disguise myself, which is..." she lowered her voice. "How I was able to hide us from the gargoyles. Most other students my age can''t even begin to do stuff like that."


    "Interesting," Zeke frowned. "And you don''t know how you do it?"


    "That pretty much sums it up," she answered. "Ask a pianist how they play the piano, and they won''t be able to give you an answer, because they just do it.


    I''m terrible when it comes to magical theory and things, and I''m not all that great at learning new spells, but I''m pretty decent at the few things that I do know how to do, simply because I learned how to do them back when I was learning how to do everything."


    "Huh," Zeke scratched the back of his neck. "Good to know."


    While they waited for the bread to bake, Zeke found himself enjoying the atmosphere of the kitchen. The warm air, the rich smells, the hum of conversation - it was nothing like the austere training grounds or the hushed library.


    There was something homey about it that reminded him of evenings spent in House Godfrey''s great hall when he was very young, before he understood what it meant to be a noble.


    "You know, I never thought I''d enjoy something like this," he admitted to Elise. "Baking bread seems so... ordinary."


    "Sometimes ordinary things are the most satisfying," Elise replied. "Back home, the best part of the day was often sitting down to a meal we''d all helped prepare. No fancy servants, no protocols - just good food with family."


    Zeke nodded thoughtfully. His childhood had been very different, filled with lessons and expectations, always with servants hovering nearby.


    Even meals had been formal affairs, with his father lecturing them on duty and honor between courses.


    Only his adventures with Artax had given him any taste of normalcy - sneaking out to fish in the river or exploring the forest beyond their estate. Those had been his happiest memories.


    The bread soon came out of the oven, and Elise cut off a section of it for him. The aroma was intoxicating, rich and yeasty.


    Zeke took a bite and nearly groaned aloud. It tasted beyond amazing, warm and chewy with a complex, tangy flavor he''d never experienced in the fine white bread served at noble tables.


    "This is incredible," he said, taking another bite. "I can''t believe we made this."


    "See? Ordinary magic," Elise said, smiling as she enjoyed her own piece.


    Several other students cast envious looks in their direction, and he winced in sympathy. The simple pleasure of eating something he''d made with his own hands was surprisingly powerful.


    "Well, I''d say that the two of you had a productive night," Ericka walked over to them, regarding the loaf of bread with some admiration. "You''re a commoner?" She addressed Elise.


    "Is that a problem?" Elise suddenly seemed to shrink back.


    "No, not at all! I''m currently studying food theory as a minor, and I''d honestly love to pick your brain over some of these techniques," she answered. "Will you be back for the next class?"


    "Next class?" Zeke turned to look at her.


    "Yeah..." Elise winced. "I... I maybe should have told you that this is actually a cooking club." Zeke laughed and shook his head, and Elise shrugged. "Yes, I''ll be back, at least."


    "Great! I''ll see you then."


    Ericka moved on, and Elise shrugged and climbed to her feet. Zeke followed, carefully wrapping the remaining bread in a cloth to take back to the dorm.


    Ralph might make fun of him for baking, but he''d bet his roommate would change his tune once he tasted this.


    They quickly walked out into the hall. There, Elise paused, then sighed.


    "Well... We have different routes back to our dorms, and these passes will only protect us as long as we''re walking along that route."


    "We can stand here and talk for a bit," Zeke suggested.


    "Yeah!" Elise brightened. "That''s true."


    "So..." Zeke raised an eyebrow. "You''re trying to get me to join a cooking class."


    "Not trying to get you to join. Trying to get you to see the beauty in cooking things," she sighed. "I don''t know. When I heard about it... It just seemed like a good chance to rekindle some of the love of the fire and of the earth that I had, back when I was living on the farm.


    I love this Academy, don''t get me wrong, but I''ll always pine for home, you know?"


    "Yeah, I know," Zeke flashed a small smile at her. "So this really means a lot to you, then?"


    "It does," she nodded. "It''s one of the few places here where I don''t feel... out of place. Where being a commoner is actually an advantage."


    Zeke thought about that for a moment. He''d never considered how difficult it must be for Elise, surrounded by nobles who had grown up with every advantage.


    For him, struggling to catch up in combat and aura control was challenging, but at least he understood the social rules. For her, every day must be a navigation through unfamiliar territory.


    "Then count me in," Zeke decided with a grin. "I''d love to do it with you, if it really means that much. Besides, this bread is amazing. I want to learn what else we can make."


    "Really?" Elise''s face lit up. "You''re not worried about what the other nobles will think? Ralph seemed pretty clear about it being ''servant stuff.''"


    "Ralph''s an idiot sometimes," Zeke said with a laugh. "And I don''t care what anyone thinks. If they want to mock me for learning a useful skill, that''s their loss. They''ll change their tune when they''re hungry and I''m the only one who can make food."


    "Great!" she beamed. "They haven''t set a date for the next class, they wanted to see just how many people would be interested, but... I''ll let you know!"


    "Looking forward to it," Zeke said. He hesitated, then added, "And Elise? Thanks for inviting me. I had more fun than I expected."


    Her smile grew even brighter. "Me too."


    With a wave, she turned and scampered off down the corridor. Zeke watched her go, then started back down through the halls toward the dorms, carefully showing his pass to each gargoyle he encountered.


    Cooking was something that he had absolutely no experience with, whatsoever. He had always had servants to take care of it wherever he had been.


    The closest he had ever come was setting out a picnic to entertain women, but even then, it had mostly been done by the servants.


    But tonight had been different. There was something deeply satisfying about creating something with his own hands - something that wasn''t about combat or aura control or noble politics.


    Just simple, honest work that resulted in something delicious.


    Zeke, the baker. His father would probably raise an eyebrow, and the other nobles might snicker. But Artax would understand.


    His brother had always appreciated the simple things in life, the experiences that connected people rather than divided them by rank.


    As he made his way back to his room, bread tucked carefully under his arm, Zeke felt a lightness in his spirit that had been missing since his conversation with Adrian.


    Yes, there might be threats lurking in the shadows. Yes, the second Trial was approaching. But tonight had been a reminder that not everything had to be about danger and duty.


    Sometimes, the most rewarding challenges were the ones you never expected.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior, Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    [Be Prepared: Get ready for the 2nd Trial]


    </b>


    <b>[Cooking Up a Storm: Touch up on Cooking Skills]</b>

 21. Second Trial

    <b>[Scene Loading...]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Castle - Tower 1]


    </b>


    <b>[Date: October 29, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    The next few days passed in a blur of preparation. Zeke spent every spare moment in the training yard, practicing with different weapons and working on his aura control.


    Each morning he rose before dawn, slipping out to run laps around the inner courtyard while most students still slept. Each evening he collapsed into bed with aching muscles, only to start again the next day.


    "You''re going to wear yourself out before the trial even begins," Ralph commented one night, watching Zeke practice sword forms in their room.


    "Better tired than unprepared," Zeke replied, executing a perfect thrust-parry-slash combination that Victoria had taught him. The wooden practice sword whistled through the air.


    On the night before the trial, just as Zeke was settling into bed, a golden envelope slipped silently under their door. No messenger, no footsteps in the hall - just the silent arrival of a letter bearing the wax seal of the Academy.


    "What''s that?" Ralph asked, looking up from the throwing star he''d been polishing.


    Zeke picked up the envelope, noting its weight and the quality of the paper. "Must be about the next Trial."


    He broke the seal and unfolded the parchment inside. The message was brief, written in flowing script:


    "You are invited to the Dueling Arena for your next Trial. It will begin at 9:00 sharp. Headmistress Florence."


    Ralph bounded across the room, peering over Zeke''s shoulder. "Well? What''s it say? Do you know what the Trial is going to be?"


    "Dueling Arena tomorrow at nine," Zeke said, turning the note over to see if there was anything else. "The Headmistress mentioned something about a sparring match when I talked to her, but I can''t imagine a Trial would be that simple."


    "Nothing''s ever simple at Leoncrest," Ralph flopped back on his bed, tossing his throwing star toward the ceiling. It stuck with a soft thunk. "Remember when Professor Harkin said we''d have a ''simple'' exercise in basic alchemy? Jensen''s eyebrows still haven''t grown back."


    Zeke laughed, tucking the letter into his desk drawer. "True enough."


    "Want me to come watch tomorrow?" Ralph asked, pulling the star free and spinning it on his finger. "I could skip Professor Merton''s lecture. Not like I understand half of what he says anyway."


    "Better not," Zeke replied. "No sense both of us getting in trouble. Besides, if I fail, I wouldn''t want an audience."


    "You won''t fail," Ralph said with surprising seriousness. "You''ve been working harder than anyone I''ve ever seen."


    "Hope you''re right," Zeke said, blowing out the candle beside his bed. "Well, I''d better get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."


    "G''night then," Ralph yawned. "Try not to worry too much."


    He was asleep before his head fully settled on the pillow, leaving Zeke alone with his thoughts in the darkened room. Sleep didn''t come easy.


    His mind kept racing through all the weapons training he''d done with Victoria over the past weeks, wondering what challenges awaited him.


    Would it be a one-on-one duel? A test of accuracy with ranged weapons? Perhaps some bizarre Leoncrest twist, like fighting blindfolded or with one hand tied behind his back? There was no way to know until he faced it.


    Eventually, he drifted into an uneasy sleep, dreaming of swords that turned to snakes in his hands and armored opponents whose faces kept changing.


    Morning arrived with the tolling of the Academy bell. Zeke was already awake, staring at the ceiling beams. He''d been up since before dawn, mentally rehearsing what Victoria had taught him about each weapon.


    He rose quietly, careful not to wake Ralph, and splashed cold water on his face from the basin. The shock helped clear the fog of restless sleep.


    He strapped on his lightest training gear - no sense weighing himself down with heavy armor that might restrict his movement.


    His stomach growled, but he ignored it. Better to fight hungry than sluggish from a heavy meal.


    The halls were unusually quiet as he made his way toward the Dueling Arena. Most students would be in their morning classes, unaware that his future at Leoncrest hung in the balance today.


    A few early risers nodded to him as he passed, but no one stopped him to chat.


    The stillness was almost eerie. Zeke could hear his own footsteps echoing off the stone walls, could feel his heartbeat quickening with each step closer to the arena.


    Not from fear, he told himself. From anticipation.


    As he rounded a corner near the western quadrant, Victoria appeared from a side corridor, holding a small wooden plate of dried fruits, nuts, and a chunk of hard cheese.


    "Thought you might need some fuel," she said, falling into step beside him. "Can''t fight on an empty stomach."


    "Always looking out for me," Zeke grinned, grabbing a handful of nuts. The salt and protein were exactly what he needed. "Thanks."


    Victoria wore her practice gear - black and crimson leathers that matched her fiery red hair. She''d pulled it back in a tight braid today, a style Zeke had learned meant she was expecting serious business.


    "You''re going to crush this today," she said with unwavering confidence. "All that training is about to pay off."


    "It better," Zeke laughed, popping another nut into his mouth. "Or this is the last time you''ll see me in these halls."


    "Don''t even joke about that," Victoria nudged his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. "You''re not going anywhere except through those doors to victory."


    They continued down the corridor, Victoria quizzing him on proper sword grips and the balance points of different weapons as they walked. It was her way of keeping his mind focused, preventing pre-fight jitters from setting in.


    "Remember what I told you about polearms," she said as they descended a wide staircase. "The key is¡ª"


    "Control the distance," Zeke finished for her. "Keep them at the end of your reach, never let them inside your guard."


    "And with a mace?"


    "Commit to each swing. The power is in the follow-through."


    Victoria nodded approvingly. "See? You''ve got this."


    They soon reached the Dueling Arena, located in the southwest corner of the castle grounds. Unlike most of Leoncrest''s towers and halls, which soared upward in elegant spires, the arena was a wide, squat building of dark stone.


    Ancient banners hung from its walls, faded with age but still bearing the crests of noble houses who had sponsored its construction centuries ago.


    Zeke pushed open the heavy oak doors, which swung inward with surprising ease. He whistled in appreciation at what lay beyond.


    The space was massive - a vast indoor room with tiered seating surrounding a central fighting area large enough for tournaments or group melees. Despite having no windows on its exterior walls, the room was bathed in natural light.


    An elaborate system of mirrors and skylights channeled sunshine down from openings in the ceiling, creating a bright but shadowless illumination perfect for combat.


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    ¡¾Location of legendary contests¡¿


    ¡¾First constructed: 312 years ago¡¿


    ¡¾Renovated: 5 times¡¿


    ¡¾Notable duel: The Clash of Seven Houses, 174 FE¡¿


    The arena floor was covered in fine white sand that would provide good footing while cushioning falls. Dark stains in some areas suggested that not all of those falls had ended without bloodshed.


    Zeke''s eyes were immediately drawn to a large weapons rack along one wall. Dozens of  swords of various lengths and styles, spears, maces, halberds, shields, bows, and several weapons he couldn''t even name.


    Each was polished to a mirror shine, with dangerous edges.


    In the center of the arena stood a knight in polished black armor, idly twirling a longsword with practiced ease. The figure''s face was completely hidden behind a full helmet crafted to resemble a skull, giving no clue to their identity.


    Sunlight reflected off the obsidian plates, making them seem to shift and move like liquid shadow.


    "That''s some impressive armor," Zeke murmured to Victoria. "Never seen anything like it."


    "House Minziar forges," Victoria replied quietly. "The black is from a special quenching process. They say it takes three master smiths working in tandem to create a single set."


    As they approached the edge of the arena, Headmistress Florence materialized from the shadows beneath the tiered seating. Her crimson and gold robes seemed to catch the light differently than everything else in the room, creating an unsettling effect.


    She swept between Zeke and the arena with surprising speed.


    "I''m sorry, but there can be no contact between the contestant and the knight before the Trial begins," she stated firmly, her thin lips pressed into an even thinner line.


    "No problem," Zeke held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "I wasn''t planning anything. I just wanted to get the details about what I''ll be doing."


    "Certainly," Headmistress Florence replied, her voice cool. "The task is quite simple, though extremely difficult. You will enter the ring and choose a weapon from the rack.


    You will then duel the knight, who has been provided by the royal garrison in the Capital. He will test your proficiency with the chosen weapon and determine whether you pass or fail.


    You must prove yourself proficient in five different weapons to complete the Trial."


    "Five different weapons?" Victoria''s jaw dropped. "That''s insane! Most first-years barely master one, let alone five!"


    "These Trials are not intended for the faint of heart or the merely adequate," the Headmistress turned to Zeke with a pointed look. "If you don''t feel up to the challenge, of course..."


    The unspoken invitation to withdraw hung in the air between them. Zeke could almost taste her desire to see him quit, to admit defeat before he''d even begun.


    "I''m ready," he said firmly, meeting her gaze without flinching. The challenge was daunting, but he wasn''t about to back down now. "Let''s do this."


    "Of course," she said, something flickering behind her eyes - disappointment, perhaps? "We will begin in three hours'' time. You may use that period to prepare, if you wish."


    She turned and glided away toward a small door at the far end of the arena, her robes making no sound as she moved.


    Zeke exhaled slowly, then exchanged glances with Victoria. She still looked shocked, but quickly regained her composure.


    "Three hours gives us time," she said decisively. "That knight isn''t going to go easy on you. Anyone hand-picked for this won''t pull punches."


    "I wouldn''t want them to," Zeke replied, rolling his shoulders. He''d rather face a real challenge than be coddled. "A pass means nothing if it''s just handed to me."


    "That''s the spirit," Victoria nodded approvingly. "Alright, let''s make a plan. Those weapons look standard, but we should check what''s available. I wonder if we can test them beforehand?"


    "Probably best not to push our luck," Zeke said, eyeing the Headmistress''s retreating form. "Just looking at what''s available should be enough."


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Where''s Elise?" Victoria asked suddenly, scanning the empty seats. "I asked her to meet us here."


    As if summoned by her name, the door behind them swung open and Elise hurried in, slightly out of breath and carrying a large cloth bag.


    "Sorry I''m late," she panted, dropping the bag at their feet. "Getting these wasn''t easy."


    Victoria quickly explained the Trial''s requirements as Elise caught her breath.


    "Five weapons? That''s..." Elise trailed off, looking at Zeke with concern.


    "A challenge," Zeke finished for her with a confident grin. "But nothing we can''t handle."


    "That''s the attitude," Victoria nodded approvingly. She turned to Elise. "Did you get everything I asked for?"


    "Most of it," Elise replied, opening the bag to reveal a collection of training weapons - wooden swords, a staff standing in for a spear, a wooden mace, and several other practice implements. "Professor Harkin caught me trying to take the bow, though."


    "This is perfect," Victoria said. "Let''s find a place to work. We''ve got three hours to prepare for five weapons."


    They located a small antechamber off the main arena floor - likely a preparation room for duelists in tournaments. For the next three hours, Victoria proved to be a demanding teacher, drilling Zeke on proper grips, stances, and basic strikes for every weapon in Elise''s bag.


    The wooden sword was familiar territory - they''d trained with it extensively over the past weeks. Victoria focused instead on helping him identify the strengths and weaknesses of the other weapons.


    "The key is understanding the purpose of each weapon," she explained while demonstrating a proper spear grip. "A spear gives you reach - keep your opponent at a distance and use quick thrusts. Never let them inside your guard."


    She moved to a mace. "This is about raw power, not speed. Let the weight do the work. Use your whole body weight to add force to each swing. Remember - one good hit is worth more than ten misses."


    Elise stepped in to help with the staff, which could stand in for several polearms. "My father taught me some staff techniques for defending our farm," she explained. "It''s all about control and leverage, not strength."


    The bow seemed simplest until Victoria laughed at his confidence. "Shooting at a stationary target is nothing like a duel," she warned. "An opponent won''t stand still while you draw your arrow. You''ll need to get creative."


    "What about the buckler?" Elise asked, holding up a small round shield she''d included in her collection.


    Victoria considered it. "Defensive only, usually paired with a short sword. But..."


    "But what?" Zeke asked, taking the small shield and testing its weight.


    A sly smile crossed Victoria''s face. "Well, your particular... talent... with projectiles might be useful there. Remember your aura infusion class?"


    Zeke laughed, recalling the chaos he''d caused. "Hard to forget."


    "Maybe worth keeping in mind," Victoria said. "As a last resort."


    By the end of their improvised training session, Zeke had basic familiarity with seven different weapons. His arms ached and sweat soaked his tunic, but he felt more prepared than he had any right to be given the circumstances.


    "Time''s up, Godfrey!" Headmistress Florence called from the doorway, her voice cutting through their conversation. "Your Trial begins now."


    Zeke took a deep breath and caught Victoria''s eye. She gave him a firm nod.


    "Remember," she said. "Play to your strengths. And if all else fails, get creative."


    Elise squeezed his arm. "You''ve got this."


    Zeke strode into the arena, feeling the eyes of his friends on his back. The sand crunched beneath his boots as he walked.


    He glanced up at the tiered seating and noticed a few figures had appeared - faculty members there to observe, probably. None of the seats reserved for students were filled. This was not meant to be a public spectacle.


    He climbed over the low railing separating the seating area from the fighting floor and approached the center. The black knight turned to face him, armor  without a single visible seam or joint.


    The mystery warrior said nothing, simply drawing a longsword with a fluid motion and assuming a ready stance.


    "The duration of this fight will depend entirely upon the testing knight!" Headmistress Florence announced from the sidelines, her voice carrying easily in the arena''s perfect acoustics.


    "If Zeke fails with any particular weapon, he cannot try again with that same weapon, but may attempt another. You must succeed with five out of the twenty available weapons to complete this Trial. Any questions?"


    Zeke shook his head, studying his opponent carefully. The knight''s posture revealed nothing - no favored side, no obvious weaknesses. Just perfect balance and poise that spoke of years of dedicated training.


    "In that case, begin!"


    Zeke strode confidently to the weapons rack. Starting with what he knew best made sense.


    He selected a sword similar in size and weight to his training blade - not too heavy, with a simple crossguard and straight double-edged blade. The grip fit his hand comfortably, and he gave it a few experimental swings as he returned to the center of the arena.


    The black knight raised his own sword in acknowledgement. For a long moment, they stood watching each other, measuring, calculating...


    Then the knight moved.


    Zeke had never seen anyone so fast. The black blade became a blur, slicing through the air toward his head. Pure instinct took over, his body reacting before his mind could process the attack.


    His sword rose to block - once, twice, three times in rapid succession. The sound of steel on steel rang out in sharp, clear notes that echoed through the arena.


    The knight suddenly stopped and stepped back, lowering his weapon.


    "What?" Headmistress Florence blinked in surprise from the sidelines. "So quick?"


    "In the real world, fights are decided in the blink of an eye," the knight replied, voice muffled but distinctly male behind his helmet.


    "Very few first-year students could have blocked that attack sequence. If I hadn''t known he only began training recently, I would consider him one of the most skilled swordsmen of his class."


    "But to truly test¡ª" the Headmistress began, her voice rising with indignation.


    "I was chosen for my expert opinion," the knight interrupted sharply. "I command the highest-rated unit in the entire Capital. I know what makes a knight a knight.


    What you just saw is how I test anyone who would enter my ranks. That much, and no more. Now, if you wish to release me from this service, do so. Otherwise, respect my judgment."


    The Headmistress nodded stiffly, her lips pressed into a bloodless line. The knight turned back to Zeke.


    "The point of this test is to evaluate you, not wear you out," he stated matter-of-factly. "It will not be an endurance test, but you will have no second chances. Choose your next weapon."


    One down, four to go. Zeke returned the sword to the rack, feeling a surge of confidence. The first pass had been easier than expected, but he knew better than to get cocky.


    He scanned his options for the next attempt.


    The spear had seemed easiest of the unfamiliar weapons during his brief training. He selected a long ash shaft tipped with  steel and returned to the center.


    The weapon was lighter than he expected, perfectly balanced for quick thrusts and parries.


    The knight studied his stance for a moment, then attacked with blinding speed. Zeke rotated the spear to block, but the knight simply slapped the weapon aside and brought the blade to a stop an inch from Zeke''s neck.


    "And you''re dead," the knight stated flatly. "Fail."


    Zeke nodded, accepting the judgment without complaint. One success, one failure. He returned the spear to the rack and surveyed his options again, his mind racing.


    Victoria had warned him that spears were difficult in one-on-one duels against experienced swordsmen. He should have chosen something with more versatility.


    The mace caught his eye - a flanged metal head on a sturdy wooden handle. Victoria had emphasized that its raw power could force even skilled opponents to give ground.


    He lifted it, testing its weight, then walked back to face the knight.


    This time, Zeke positioned himself exactly as Victoria had shown him, holding the mace slightly above his shoulder, weight balanced on the balls of his feet. The knight gave a small nod of recognition.


    After a brief pause, the black warrior charged straight ahead. Zeke swung the mace in a powerful arc, the heavy metal head whistling through the air.


    The knight halted his advance, unwilling to test his blade against the crushing force of the mace. Taking advantage of the moment, Zeke stepped back then lunged forward, using the momentum of the heavy weapon to drive toward his opponent.


    The knight avoided the attack with a backward step, then nodded.


    "Pass."


    "Pass?" Headmistress Florence objected from the sidelines. "He looked completely awkward out there!"


    "As would anyone wielding a mace against a swordsman," the knight replied sharply. "It''s a weapon for jailers and barbarians, a last resort when all else fails.


    He made me retreat twice because he recognized the danger of blocking such a blow directly. He showed proper technique for the weapon''s purpose. Pass."


    Two successes, one failure. Zeke was feeling more confident as he returned the mace and considered his next choice. The bow and quiver of arrows seemed promising - Victoria had given him a clever strategy for dueling with it.


    He took position in the center, nocking an arrow but keeping the bow relaxed. The knight tensed visibly, preparing to charge the moment Zeke drew back the string.


    Zeke made a show of beginning to draw the bow. As expected, the knight immediately rushed forward. Instead of completing the draw, Zeke released the string and swung the bow like a club.


    The sudden change in tactics caused the knight to hesitate for just an instant. In that moment, Zeke lunged forward, wielding the arrow in his other hand like a dagger.


    The knight caught his wrist before the strike could land, easily disarming him of the arrow, but then laughed.


    "Pass!"


    Three successes, one failure. Only two more to go. Zeke''s spirits lifted as he returned to choose his fourth weapon, feeling Victoria and Elise''s eyes on him from the sidelines.


    The rapier seemed promising - a slender, elegant blade designed for precision thrusts. But its techniques proved too different from what he''d learned. The knight disarmed him in seconds - a clear fail.


    Next came a curved scimitar. This too resulted in quick defeat, the unfamiliar balance throwing off Zeke''s timing.


    Zeke tried the cat-o''-nine-tails next, more out of curiosity than confidence. The multi-tailed whip tangled around his own arm rather than striking his opponent, causing several spectators to chuckle.


    "Perhaps this will be over even quicker than I imagined," Headmistress Florence commented from the sidelines, her voice dripping with satisfaction.


    Three successes, four failures. The pressure was mounting. Zeke wiped sweat from his brow and turned back to the weapon rack, his confidence wavering.


    He needed to think carefully about his next choice.


    A heavy war hammer caught his eye - a metal head with a spike on one side and a flat crushing surface on the other. He hadn''t practiced with it specifically, but reasoned it might function similarly to the mace.


    He hefted it and returned to the center.


    His attack was clumsy - the hammer was heavier and more unwieldy than he''d anticipated - but he managed to use it to control the space between himself and the knight, forcing his opponent to respect the weapon''s crushing power.


    "Pass," the knight declared, to Zeke''s surprise.


    Four successes, four failures. One more to go, but Zeke was running out of weapons he had any idea how to use. If he failed again, that would be the end of his time at Leoncrest.


    Everything he''d worked for, his promise to Artax, his family''s honor - all of it hung on this final choice.


    The knight twirled his sword impatiently in the center of the arena. Zeke scanned the remaining weapons, searching for something, anything that might give him a chance.


    Then his eyes fell on a small item tucked between larger weapons - a round metal buckler, its surface polished to a mirror shine. Victoria''s words echoed in his mind: "Your particular talent with projectiles might be useful..."


    A smile spread across his face as inspiration struck. He reached for the small shield and lifted it down. It weighed about five pounds - perfect for what he had in mind.


    Headmistress Florence raised an eyebrow. "That was intended as a companion to the weapons, not a weapon itself."


    "Are you going to let me try?" Zeke asked, meeting her gaze steadily.


    The Headmistress sighed. "Very well. If you wishto humiliate yourself, who am I to stop you?"


    Zeke nodded and walked confidently to the center. He could hear whispers from the few spectators, could feel Victoria and Elise holding their breath.


    He held the buckler in front of him as if preparing to use it defensively. The knight raised his sword, giving a small, almost respectful nod - one professional acknowledging another''s attempt.


    As the knight charged, Zeke channeled his aura into the buckler - the same technique that had sent crystal spheres flying across classrooms all semester. He focused on building pressure, compressing the energy into a tight coil within the metal.


    BLAM!


    The buckler launched from his hand like a cannonball, the compressed aura releasing all at once. It streaked across the arena and smashed directly into the knight''s helmet with a resounding crash that echoed through the entire hall.


    The impact sent the black-armored figure flying backward to crash onto the arena floor in a clatter of metal. The dented helmet rolled away, revealing the face of a fair-haired man with clear blue eyes.


    A collective gasp rose from the spectators. Concerned he might have actually injured his opponent, Zeke rushed forward. His left arm hung limp at his side, slightly numb from the backlash of his aura technique, but that was a minor concern compared to potentially hurting the knight.


    As Zeke knelt beside him, the man''s left hand shot out, gripping Zeke''s arm with surprising strength and pulling him close.


    "My name is Constantine," he whispered urgently, his breath smelling of blood. "I knew your brother. What happened to him was no accident. Do not let it happen to yourself too. Beware the Court."


    With that cryptic warning, he shoved Zeke away, rose to his feet, and spat out a mouthful of blood onto the white sand. Headmistress Florence stood, her face darkening with anger.


    "Now, if that isn''t one of the worst displays of sportsmanship I have ever seen!" she declared, her voice ringing through the arena. "Zeke de''Godfrey, you are hereby¡ª"


    "PASS!" Constantine roared, cutting her off. The room fell silent as he spat another mouthful of blood onto the arena floor.


    "Name one other student who could weaponize a buckler like that. If I don''t return to my command post and immediately start training each of my soldiers to do the same, I''ve lost my mind.


    It was an incredible move - the sort of ingenuity only the greatest warriors possess. Pass."


    He stalked over, picked up his helmet and held it high to display the massive dent for all to see. Without another word, he hopped over the ropes and stormed out of the arena, blood still dripping from his mouth.


    The Headmistress stared after him, her expression unreadable but her knuckles white where she gripped the railing. After a long moment, she turned on her heel and swept away without acknowledging Zeke''s success.


    Zeke climbed out of the ring to find Victoria and Elise rushing forward to congratulate him.


    "That was incredible!" Elise exclaimed, eyes wide with admiration. "The way you launched that buckler - I''ve never seen anything like it!"


    "Unorthodox but effective," Victoria said with a proud smile. "Exactly what I''d expect from you." She examined his limp arm with a practiced eye. "That''s going to be sore tomorrow. The backlash from channeling that much aura needs control."


    "Worth it," Zeke grinned, flexing his fingers to get feeling back. "Five passes. I did it."


    "Never doubted you for a second," Victoria said, though the relief in her eyes suggested otherwise.


    As they made their way out of the arena, Elise lowered her voice. "The Headmistress really doesn''t like you. Did you see her face?"


    "No," Zeke admitted. "I was a bit preoccupied with the knight trying to skewer me."


    "She looked ready to explode when Constantine passed you on that last test," Elise said. "I think she was counting on you failing."


    "I''ll need to pay her a visit soon," Zeke said thoughtfully. "Whatever the Third Trial is, I should get details as early as possible if I want any chance of fair treatment."


    "Visit Adrian first," Elise suggested. "He can give you information she might try to withhold."


    "Good idea," Zeke nodded gratefully. "Thanks, both of you. I couldn''t have done this without your help."


    As they crossed the courtyard back toward the main castle, Zeke''s mind kept returning to Constantine''s warning. The Court? What could that mean? And what did he know about Artax''s injury?


    Questions for another time. For now, he''d celebrate this victory. He''d passed the Second Trial - something even his legendary brother had struggled with, according to the Headmistress.


    One more down, thirty-two to go. The path ahead would be difficult, but for the first time since arriving at Leoncrest, Zeke truly believed he could make it through all thirty-four Trials.


    After all, if he could turn a simple buckler into a weapon powerful enough to knock a seasoned knight off his feet, what couldn''t he do?


    As they reached the main hall, Victoria gave him a playful punch on his good shoulder. "So, buckler-thrower, ready for some lunch? You''ve earned it."


    "Starving," Zeke admitted with a grin. "Lead the way."


    Together, they headed toward the dining hall, his steps lighter than they''d been in weeks. Whatever challenges the remaining Trials might bring, he''d face them head-on - with a little help from his friends, and maybe a few more creative solutions along the way.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior, Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    [The Devil You Know: Speak with Adrian about the Third Trial]</b>


    <b>


    [The Devil You Don''t: Speak with Headmistress Florence about the Third Trial]</b>

 22. Alliances

    <b>[Scene Loading...]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Castle - Dining Hall]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: November 3, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    The next few days proved far too busy for Zeke to bother with speaking to Adrian or the Headmistress about the third Trial. News of his buckler-throwing victory had spread through Leoncrest like wildfire, and students who''d barely acknowledged his existence were suddenly eager to chat.


    "There he is!" someone shouted as Zeke entered the dining hall the day after the Trial. Dozens of heads turned his way.


    "Is it true you knocked a royal knight unconscious?" a first-year asked, eyes wide with admiration.


    "Did you really dent his helmet with just a buckler?" another called out.


    Zeke grinned and shrugged. "The helmet was pretty thin."


    By midday, he''d told the story so many times he was sick of hearing his own voice. Eventually, he had to flee to his dorm room just to escape the attention.


    Ralph found him there, sprawled on his bed with a pillow over his face.


    "Hiding from your adoring fans?" Ralph laughed, flopping onto his own bed.


    "You have no idea," Zeke groaned, lifting the pillow. "A third-year just asked me to teach him ''advanced buckler techniques.'' What am I supposed to say to that?"


    "Charge him for lessons?" Ralph suggested with a grin. "Five silver pieces per hour. You''d be rich by winter break."


    The excitement didn''t last forever, thankfully. After a few days, the novelty wore off, and Zeke found himself returning to a somewhat normal routine.


    He was no longer just that weird guy who shouldn''t be there. He had proven himself to a trained knight, and that was a feat that any student would have given their left arm for.


    Even Diocletian had stopped with the constant sneering, though he''d never admit to being impressed. Some of the professors had started treating Zeke differently too - with a bit more respect, as if he''d finally earned his place among them.


    As he ate breakfast on the morning of November 3rd, Elise sat down across from him and gave him a smile.


    "Victoria would kill you if she saw you eating that pastry."


    "Victoria isn''t here," Zeke replied with a mischievous grin, taking an exaggerated bite of the sweet, flaky treat. "And besides, I already ran five laps around the training yard this morning. I''ve earned this."


    "Still doesn''t mean she would like it," Elise commented, then shrugged. "You ready for the day?"


    "Hope so," Zeke said, licking sugar from his fingers. "What did Professor Gerald say we''d be starting in class today? Something about Aura Theory, I think?"


    "Yeah." Elise screwed up her nose. It had been mentioned offhandedly in their previous class, but had been done rather quickly at the end, and Zeke couldn''t quite remember what had been said about it.


    "I did a little research in the Library. It''s some pretty heavy stuff. From what I can tell, it''s actually an introduction to a whole series of classes we''ll be taking later on."


    "Can''t be worse than cleaning out the stables back home," Zeke said with a shrug. "Let''s get to it."


    As it turned out, it was definitely worse than cleaning stables.


    When they arrived at class, instead of finding strange items and weapons lying on their desks as usual, they found thick textbooks. Zeke flipped his open and peered inside, discovering tiny print alongside diagrams showing a wide assortment of items with complicated charts sketched next to them.


    He didn''t have the faintest idea what any of it meant.


    "Good morning, class!" Professor Gerald walked in, a flurry of robes swirling around him. He seemed somewhat agitated, his movements sharper than usual.


    Zeke caught a glimpse of what might have been the Headmistress in the hall, but then she was gone, and he frowned. Had they been arguing?


    "If you were paying attention at the end of last class, you''ll remember that today we''re starting our unit on Aura Theory," Professor Gerald announced. "This is a somewhat experimental branch of Aura Studies, but it''s quite critical to understanding how to master your own Aura."


    A hand shot up at the front of the classroom, and Diocletian rose without being addressed.


    "Do we really have to learn this?"


    "Yes," Professor Gerald nodded sharply. "No whining, either. As some of you know, you''ll be taking three separate classes over the next several years that will dive deeper into the subject matter.


    For now, I''m to give you an introduction so that when you get to those other classes, it hits you less like an anvil being thrown off a rooftop, and more like a runaway wagon rolling down a mountainside."


    The whole class, Zeke included, groaned. Professor Gerald flashed a thin smile, then folded his hands behind his back.


    "The field of Aura Theory began almost two centuries ago, when Professor Lupin de''Levayne realized that the concentration of Aura wasn''t dispersed evenly throughout a weapon he had charged.


    He began experimenting with it and found that even when masters charged their weapons with Aura, the distribution remained uneven. This launched a field of study that is still in development, but which has yielded..."


    He paused, and flipped over the textbook. "What term did they use? A garden of useful equations and formulas that will assist the intrepid warrior on their path to greatness."


    The class groaned again as they flipped open their books to the introductory chapter. As it turned out, a great many things about a weapon could determine how Aura was dispersed through the item - the material it was made from, the shape (curves had different effects than straight lines), the size, the power of the wielder''s Aura, and much more.


    At the front was a list of all the equations that had been discovered as of the printing of the book.


    "Two more were discovered only last year, relating to the density of Aura when submerging weapons in water," Professor Gerald informed them.


    The list made Zeke''s head spin. There were over a hundred equations, which was apparently intended as a "quick reference" guide for the rest of the volume.


    "Let''s start with something simple," Professor Gerald said, drawing a sword on the chalkboard. "When channeling Aura into a standard longsword, the energy tends to concentrate at the edges and tip. Can anyone tell me why?"


    No hands went up. Zeke glanced around at his equally confused classmates.


    "No? Then I''ll explain. Aura follows the path of least resistance, just like water flowing downhill. In metal implements, it''s drawn to the thinnest parts - edges, tips, and any decorative filigree.


    That''s why many ceremonial weapons actually perform poorly despite being beautiful. The Aura gets trapped in the decorations instead of reinforcing the blade itself."


    Zeke sat up straighter. This actually seemed... useful. Maybe there was something to this Aura Theory after all.


    Professor Gerald continued, "Now, look at Equation 3 in your books. This describes the basic distribution pattern in a simple weapon with a single edge."


    Zeke looked down at his book to see:


    R = K ¡Á (1/T) ¡Á L2


    "Where R is the Aura concentration ratio, K is the conductivity constant of the material, T is the thickness at any given point, and L is the linear distance from the wielder''s hand," Professor Gerald explained.


    Just like that, Zeke''s newfound interest deflated. The rest of the class was nothing but pain as they tackled some of the most basic shapes and formulas.


    By the time it was done, Zeke''s head ached, and he stumbled out into the hall clutching his temples.


    "Oh, this is not going to be fun," he muttered.


    "I actually find it kinda fascinating!" Elise beamed. "Just think of all the practical applications of this knowledge!"


    Zeke turned to her and blinked a few times. "I can think of exactly one use for anything I just encountered in that class, and it''s using that textbook to clobber my enemies. Seems more effective than just about any weapon."


    Diocletian, who was just walking past them, laughed. "For once, I think I might agree with you, Godfrey!"


    He was gone before Zeke could say anything more, and Elise snickered.


    "I stand by it," Zeke shrugged. "Just because he agrees with me on something doesn''t mean I''m wrong. You know what they say about blind squirrels."


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "What do they say?" asked a voice from behind them.


    Zeke turned to find Victoria approaching, dressed in her training gear with a practice sword at her hip.


    "Even a blind squirrel finds a nut occasionally," Zeke explained. "We were just talking about how much Aura Theory makes my brain hurt."


    "Ah," Victoria nodded. "It''s brutal at first, but it gets more useful later. The higher-level courses actually teach you how to manipulate Aura distribution consciously."


    "Wait, you can do that?" Zeke asked, suddenly interested again.


    "Of course. How do you think I manage to cut through practice dummies with a dull training sword?" Victoria smirked. "I concentrate my Aura at the edge. Makes it sharper than any physical blade."


    "Now that sounds worth learning," Zeke admitted.


    "See you at afternoon training?" Victoria asked as she continued down the hall.


    "Wouldn''t miss it," Zeke called after her.


    Elise gave him a knowing look. "So you''ll endure Aura Theory after all?"


    "For a practical payoff like that? Absolutely."


    They parted ways, and Zeke made his way to his next class.


    Politics was next on the list, and proved as dull as ever. Zeke sat there, trying to keep a straight face, as the professor droned on and on about how important it was to eat meals in a civilized manner.


    "People are watching you all the time, you know," he intoned, his voice dripping with pomp. "When you are at a dinner party, the point isn''t the food you are eating, but the company you eat it with.


    As such, the strictest decorum must be upheld. When consuming soup, as we have previously discussed, you must always scoop your soup away from you, not toward you as is common."


    Zeke resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That seemed like a good way to splatter soup across everyone else at the table, but what did he know?


    He had always enjoyed hanging out with the commoners in his village, likely far more than most of the other nobles at the school. He hadn''t realized at the time just how uncommon it was, but the more he heard in politics class, the more he realized that in practice, most nobles never even came in contact with common folk at all, unless a peasant had come to the imperial courts to beg for judgment in some matter.


    Looking around at his classmates, Zeke could tell which ones had grown up completely isolated from ordinary people. They nodded along solemnly, taking detailed notes on which fork to use for fish versus fowl, while Zeke tried to remember what Victoria had taught him about hidden knives in courtly settings.


    "Now, we will practice," the professor announced. "Everyone, take up your spoons."


    The class passed slowly and not without much pain. They were given bowls of water and spoons, and the professor walked around to watch their progress as they attempted to perform the proper soup-eating technique.


    Zeke did the best he could, but apparently he held his fingers wrong, and the angle at which the spoon entered the water wasn''t quite right.


    "No, no, de''Godfrey," the professor chided, adjusting Zeke''s grip on the spoon. "The little finger must remain slightly extended - not enough to appear affected, but enough to signal breeding."


    "Seems like a lot of fuss over soup," Zeke muttered under his breath.


    The student next to him - a quiet noble named Marcus de''Hobbson - stifled a laugh.


    "Don''t let old Phineas hear you say that," Marcus whispered. "He once gave a student detention for using the wrong knife to spread butter."


    After what felt like an eternity, the class finally ended. Zeke gathered his things, already dreading the etiquette quiz the professor had promised for the next session.


    "Godfrey, a moment," the professor called as students filed out.


    Zeke approached the desk with trepidation. "Yes, Professor Phineas?"


    "Your soup technique leaves much to be desired," the professor said, wiping his spectacles with a pristine handkerchief. "But I must commend you on your duel with Sir Constantine. The entire faculty has been talking about it."


    "Oh," Zeke said, surprised. "Thank you, sir."


    "While I may teach the finer points of courtly manners, I was once a knight myself," Professor Phineas continued. "Quick thinking and adaptability are just as important as proper form, sometimes more so. Remember that."


    Zeke nodded, a new respect for the fussy professor forming. "I will, sir."


    With that unexpected interaction still on his mind, Zeke headed to his History class.


    History, which had initially seemed as dry as old parchment, was becoming increasingly interesting. At first, it had been pure and utter pain, but the further along in the class they went, the more some of the names started to become familiar, and the patterns of history began to reveal themselves.


    "And so..." The professor stood at the front of the classroom, chalking a large family tree onto the board. "As you can clearly see, House Goria was doomed from this moment, the instant when Proctor de''Goria married Diana de''Atlas.


    Proctor was the heir of Donald de''Goria, who was the de facto Senate Chair. At that time, as you''ll remember, the Senate Chair wasn''t an elected member of the Senate, but was an inherited position much like the imperial throne itself.


    The de''Atlas clan had carefully arranged this marriage, and Diana, while playing the part of a faithful wife, raised their son to question the motives of House Goria."


    Zeke leaned forward, drawn into the tale of political intrigue. This wasn''t just dusty history - it was a playbook of tactics that might be used against his own house.


    "When Victor de''Goria became Senate Chair a generation later," the professor continued, "he began to enact policies that eroded de''Goria control over the Senate.


    At the same time, other strategic de''Atlas marriages resulted in crumbling de''Goria control over the military as well as the agriculture sector. You''ll recall, of course, that it was this control over agriculture that had allowed de''Goria to seize power in the first place.


    This brings us back around to House Stragga, which had been watching everything up until now..."


    Zeke scribbled furious notes, seeing parallels to the current situation of House Godfrey. He was still struggling to get decent grades on the tests, but this was the sort of politics he could follow.


    The way that the different houses undercut each other was actually quite fascinating. It was concerning, of course, as he recognized many of the techniques that had been used against House Godfrey, but knowledge was power - especially knowledge of your enemies'' tactics.


    When class ended, Zeke hung back for a moment and slowly approached the professor''s desk. The man was older, Lawrence de''Byron, and he wearily sat down as Zeke stepped up.


    "Yes, de''Godfrey. What can I do for you?" He frowned up at Zeke, his eyes watery with age. "I must say, your test scores are improving remarkably. You''ve done well, for a student with your background."


    "I have a good instructor," Zeke replied with a grin. "And in my defense, I came into this class without any foundation. The first few weeks, you definitely assumed we knew some of the basic facts. Took me a while to catch up."


    "Hmm. I suppose I never would have imagined that you didn''t know some of them," Professor Lawrence folded his hands. "Still, as I said, you''ve done well, and I don''t foresee any problems passing you at the end of this term, provided your grades don''t fall.


    In any case, what can I do for you?"


    "I was actually wondering..." Zeke paused, choosing his words carefully. "A lot of people hate House Godfrey, and if we fell, we wouldn''t be the first noble house to collapse. I was wondering if you might be able to tell me what our enemies will do next.


    Based on your understanding of history, what will be their next move?"


    Professor Lawrence nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Believe it or not, I''ve actually been wondering that fact myself. I''ve started working on a book charting your house over the course of the last three generations."


    He turned and indicated a large stack of papers on the side of his desk. "It details your collapse to this point, and then your journey so far. In short, as you well know, if you fail so much as a single Trial, your house will be torn to bits.


    From my correspondence with people in the Senate, it sounds like a great many laws have been passed so that the moment things fall apart here, the Senate can move."


    Zeke set his jaw, but the professor wasn''t done.


    "The real question becomes what happens if you do succeed in the Trials. If you can pass, it won''t matter if you graduate and become the most famous knight in the world, or if you retire and just live out the rest of your life in the castle.


    The matter of a warrior-heir will be kicked down the road for another generation at least, and the Senate won''t want to wait. If I had to make a guess, at least one or two of them will try to propose a similar disastrous marriage, hoping to get their blood into your home.


    Your brother may have already received such a proposal, but that''s mere speculation. Beyond that... I don''t know. In such cases where the house is pretty small, it''s not uncommon that assassins are simply hired to get the job done manually, so to speak."


    "Good to know," Zeke said, rubbing the back of his neck. The information wasn''t surprising, but having it confirmed was sobering. "Guess I''ll just have to watch my back."


    "I do want you to know that your case isn''t hopeless," Professor Lawrence spoke up as Zeke turned to leave. "There have been other houses in similar straits before.


    House Stragga, for example, was down to fewer people than House Godfrey only two centuries ago. House Levayne has never been the largest noble house, but it was once reduced to only a single couple.


    They both rebounded, and House Godfrey can too."


    "Thanks. I appreciate it," Zeke said with a genuine smile. The professor''s words were actually encouraging - if other houses had come back from the brink, so could his.


    As he reached the door, he heard Professor Lawrence call out after him.


    "Make sure that this book ends well! I''d like to be known to history, and at this point, my only chance is to author a firsthand account of something particularly epic."


    Zeke turned around and found a jovial glint in Professor Lawrence''s eye. He laughed and gave a nod before slipping out.


    It was good that the history professor, who knew how these sorts of things often went, didn''t think it was a lost cause. Still, though... He didn''t exactly sound hopeful of House Godfrey''s recovery, merely acknowledging that it was possible.


    "Challenge accepted, Professor," Zeke muttered to himself as he headed down the corridor. "Your book''s going to need a spectacular ending."


    After classes ended for the day, Zeke found himself with a rare free hour before his training session with Victoria. Rather than heading back to his room, he decided to visit the library.


    If he was going to face more enemies - both inside the academy and out - he needed every advantage he could get.


    The library was quiet as usual, with only a few students scattered among the towering shelves. Adrian was nowhere to be seen, but Zeke didn''t mind. He had a specific section in mind today.


    He wound his way through the stacks until he found what he was looking for - a small section dedicated to the history of the Trials. Most students ignored these books, focusing instead on combat techniques or magical theory, but Zeke knew better.


    Knowledge of what came before could give him an edge on what lay ahead.


    He pulled down a leather-bound volume titled "The Thirty-Four Trials: A Comprehensive History" and settled at a nearby table. The book was old, its pages yellowed with age, but the information inside might be priceless.


    "Interesting choice," came a familiar voice.


    Zeke looked up to see Victoria standing beside his table, her red hair really lit up by the lamplight.


    "Thought you might be here," she said, sitting across from him. "Trying to get a head start on the Third Trial?"


    "That''s the plan," Zeke nodded. "Professor Lawrence made me realize I need to be smarter about all this. It''s not just about physical challenges - there''s a whole game being played behind the scenes."


    Victoria nodded approvingly. "Now you''re thinking like a noble."


    "Don''t insult me," Zeke replied with a grin.


    She laughed and pulled the book toward her, flipping through a few pages. "You know, my great-grandfather completed the Trials. Not for House Godfrey, obviously, but as part of his knightly training.


    The family stories say the Third Trial was the one that nearly broke him."


    "Any hints about what it involved?" Zeke asked hopefully.


    Victoria shook her head. "He would never speak of it directly. Just said it tested more than strength or skill - it tested resolve."


    "That''s... cryptically unhelpful."


    "Welcome to noble education," Victoria said dryly. "Ready for training? I''ve got some new sword forms to show you that might come in handy."


    Zeke closed the book and stood. "Lead the way. Between Aura Theory and etiquette lessons, I could use a good workout."


    As they walked to the training yard, Zeke reflected on how much had changed in just a few months. He''d gone from being an outsider barely tolerated at Leoncrest to someone with real friends and growing respect.


    The path ahead was still treacherous, with enemies on all sides and impossible trials to face, but for the first time, he wasn''t just fighting to avoid failure.


    He was fighting to win.


    And if Professor Lawrence was going to write the history of House Godfrey''s rise from the ashes, Zeke was determined to give him one hell of a story to tell.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior, Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    [The Devil You Know: Speak with Adrian about the Third Trial]


    [The Devil You Don''t: Speak with Headmistress Florence about the Third Trial]</b>

 23. Making Deals

    <b>[Scene Loading...]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Castle - Tower 1]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: November 5, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    "I think the answer is three," Ralph declared, dropping into the chair at his desk with absolute confidence.


    "No way," Zeke said, squinting down at the worksheet in front of him. Aura class had surprised them all with something called "homework" - a concept Zeke found almost as unpleasant as cleaning the stables back home. The paper showed a sword and asked for calculations about "volume" that made his head spin. "If you look at this part here..."


    "I''m just saying, if you don''t know, the answer is always three," Ralph insisted, leaning back in his chair until it balanced on two legs. "Makes you look like you''re not just guessing, so the professors give you partial credit. You can modify it if you need to. If it looks like it should be a big number, put 300, or 3,000, or¡ª"


    "That''s your big academic secret?" Zeke laughed, tossing his quill onto the desk. "Just write down threes everywhere?"


    "Hey, I''m passing all my classes, aren''t I?" Ralph grinned.


    Zeke looked back at the worksheet. The instructions noted that "volume" could be determined by filling a bucket with water and dropping the sword inside to see how much water ran out. He''d been tempted to just write "I don''t have a bucket with me" and call it a day.


    "I need to get a good grade in this class," Zeke said, running a hand through his hair. "This Aura Theory stuff might as well be written in another language."


    "Why not ask Elise? She seems to know her stuff," Ralph suggested, balancing a pencil on the tip of his finger. "And she''s cute."


    Zeke rolled his eyes. "She''s busy today. Her private instructor is giving her some lecture on the ''proper relationship of commoners to nobles'' or something equally ridiculous."


    "Sounds thrilling," Ralph snorted. "So why not ask that old guy down in the library? The one who knows everything?"


    Zeke paused, then his face brightened. "Adrian! That''s not a bad idea." He checked the small clock on their shared desk. "I''ve got a couple hours before curfew. Catch you later!"


    "Don''t get eaten by gargoyles!" Ralph called after him as Zeke grabbed his papers and bounded out the door.


    The castle corridors were quieter than usual at this hour. Most students were in their rooms studying or had gathered in the common areas to socialize before curfew.


    Zeke trotted down the spiral staircase, taking the steps two at a time, eager to get Adrian''s help before the library closed.


    He nodded to a few students he recognized as he crossed the main hall. Since his victory in the Second Trial, people had started acknowledging him more.


    Some even smiled or waved now instead of looking away. Amazing what knocking a royal knight flat on his back could do for your social standing.


    The library doors stood open, welcoming the few dedicated students who preferred books to evening recreation. Zeke slipped inside, breathing in the familiar scent of old paper and leather bindings.


    A handful of people moved quietly between shelves or hunched over tables with open tomes.


    It took Zeke a moment to locate Adrian near the center of the vast room, carefully returning books to their proper places from a wooden cart. The old librarian smiled as Zeke approached, climbing down from a small stool.


    "Ah, Zeke! What can I help you with?"


    Zeke winced and held up the worksheet. Adrian''s expression immediately shifted to one of sympathetic understanding.


    "Aura Theory," he said with a knowing nod. "Come, sit down."


    They settled at a work table tucked between two tall shelves, away from the other students. Adrian examined the worksheet, his brow furrowing slightly.


    "Professor Gerald has quite the fondness for complex calculations," he muttered, pulling a piece of scrap paper toward him. "Right, let''s work through this step by step."


    Adrian''s explanation made the process clearer than Professor Gerald''s entire lecture had. He showed Zeke shortcuts for calculating the volume of irregularly shaped objects and explained the basic principles behind the formulas.


    It still wasn''t easy, but at least now Zeke understood what he was trying to accomplish.


    "So I multiply these two numbers, then divide by the density constant?" Zeke asked, working through the final problem.


    "Exactly," Adrian nodded approvingly. "You''ve got it."


    Zeke completed the calculation and sat back with a satisfied smile. "Thanks. I really appreciate the help."


    "Happy to assist," Adrian replied, gathering the scrap papers they''d used. "You seem to have a natural aptitude for practical applications. The theory just requires a different way of thinking."


    "Speaking of practical applications," Zeke said, tucking the completed worksheet into his notebook, "how important is Aura Theory, really? Will I actually use this stuff?"


    Adrian chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "For you right now, very important - you need to pass your classes, after all."


    "Right, I know," Zeke grinned. "But I mean in real life. You know, outside of tests and homework."


    "The short answer is... maybe?" Adrian shrugged. "Warriors fought for thousands of years without knowing a thing about Aura Theory. On the flip side, studying it has led to improvements in weapon design.


    Take a look at most modern swords - you''ll notice small notches near the base of the blade, right by the hilt. From a structural standpoint, those make the blade weaker and more likely to break, but from an Aura perspective, they strengthen the energy you can channel into the weapon."


    "Really?" Zeke said, genuinely interested. "So it could help me if I''m designing weapons someday."


    "That would be the primary application," Adrian agreed, "but I wouldn''t dismiss it entirely. Knowledge has a way of becoming useful at unexpected moments."


    The old librarian started to rise from his chair. "Now, if you''ll excuse me, I''m afraid I need to get back to work. These books won''t shelve themselves."


    "Wait!" Zeke held up a hand. "Sorry, one more thing. I wanted to ask about the Third Trial."


    Adrian paused, settling back into his seat. "Ah, yes. I imagine you''ll be facing that soon."


    "I need to set it up with the Headmistress," Zeke explained, "but I wanted to get your thoughts first. Any insights you can share?"


    "The Third Trial," Adrian said thoughtfully. "Like the first two, it''s designed to test your basic qualities as a warrior. The First Trial examined your endurance, the Second your weapon proficiency. The Third tests your ability to use Aura."


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Zeke''s face fell. "That''s probably what I''m worst at. And I''ve lost my private tutor."


    "Professor Gerald isn''t the only Aura instructor in the Academy," Adrian pointed out.


    "True, but there aren''t any others from houses allied with mine," Zeke replied, tapping his fingers on the table. "The closest I''ve gotten is Ralph''s relatives, and they''re good, but not exactly what I''m looking for."


    "I see." Adrian stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I do have some contacts in that department. I''ll see what I can do to find you a tutor."


    "That would be great," Zeke said, perking up. "Could you tell me more about what the test specifically involves? Knowing the Second Trial was a ''sparring match'' didn''t exactly prepare me for having to master five different weapons."


    "You make a fair point." Adrian closed his eyes, clearly searching his memory. "Let me see if I can recall... I was one of the moderators when your brother took it. It was an Aura Infusion test, as I recall. It was... Oh!" His eyes snapped open. "I can''t tell you."


    "You can''t tell me?" Zeke stared at him. "Why not?"


    "Because doing so would undermine the nature of the test," Adrian explained, looking genuinely apologetic. "It''s... complicated. What I can say is that you''ll need to infuse your aura into an item.


    I cannot tell you what the item is or what you''ll have to do with it, but you should begin practicing your infusion techniques immediately."


    "Great," Zeke said, trying not to sound discouraged. He''d been hoping for more specific information. "Any chance you could reach out to those contacts now?"


    Adrian smiled. "Let me see what I can do."


    Fifteen minutes later, armed with a letter of recommendation from Adrian, Zeke marched purposefully toward Tower 7. The sun was setting outside the high windows, casting long shadows across the stone floors as he climbed the spiral staircase to the ninth floor.


    According to Adrian, Professor Harold de''Hobbson was one of the most skilled Aura instructors at the Academy. He was also, unfortunately, from a house with no love for the Godfreys.


    Still, Zeke had faced worse odds before.


    He found the office door easily enough - a plain wooden door with a simple brass nameplate. Taking a deep breath, Zeke knocked firmly three times.


    For a moment, there was no response, and he wondered if he''d have to come back another day. Then the door clicked open just enough for a pale face to peer out.


    Professor Harold de''Hobbson was a narrow, gaunt man with skin so pale it seemed almost translucent. His black robes hung loosely on his thin frame, making him look like a specter from a ghost story.


    Cold eyes examined Zeke from beneath heavy brows.


    "What can I do for you, de''Godfrey?" The voice was as thin as the man himself, but carried an unexpected strength.


    "I have a letter here from Adrian de''Levayne," Zeke said, holding out the sealed note. "I was hoping I could secure your assistance with Aura training."


    "My assistance?" Professor Harold''s eyebrows rose as he took the letter, breaking the seal and unfolding it. His eyes scanned the page for a long moment before returning to Zeke.


    "You are aware, of course, that our houses want to destroy each other? I have received many letters asking me to fail you in whatever capacity I can, and have had the sad duty of informing my relatives that I do not have you in any of my classes."


    He continued, his voice taking on an edge. "In turn, your father has lobbied several times over the last two months to dissolve various Hobbson holdings, for a variety of reasons.


    All have been rejected, of course, but the fact remains that House Hobbson and House Godfrey are hardly on good terms. Why, pray tell, do you think I would help you?"


    Zeke met the professor''s gaze directly. "Honestly? I don''t have the faintest idea if you will. But I can''t go to House Stragga, House Minziar hates me even more than you do, and then there''s House Dracthen.


    Those are the only houses with professors in the Aura department, which doesn''t leave me many options."


    Professor Harold raised a thin eyebrow. "You haven''t been paying much attention in your political class, have you? What you''ve just told me is that I''m your only hope."


    Zeke winced, realizing his tactical error. This was exactly the sort of thing the political class should be teaching, instead of proper soup-spoon etiquette.


    "With my knowledge of the Trials," Professor Harold continued, "I am well aware that the next one involves Aura, which you are woefully unprepared for.


    Thus, I hold in my hands not only your future, but the future of House Godfrey itself. That is no small thing, however you may try to phrase it."


    Zeke thought quickly. "Is there a favor I could do for you in exchange?"


    "A favor, equal to the immense task I would be assisting you with?" The professor''s lips curved into something that wasn''t quite a smile. "That would seem to be a tall order, indeed." He sighed dramatically, then nodded. "Perhaps there is something."


    "What would that be?" Zeke asked, bracing himself. Would it be spying? Stealing something? There was no telling what this level of political maneuvering might require.


    "I would like you to write a letter to your father," Professor Harold said slowly, choosing each word with care. "Tell him to file an injunction with the Senate, asking them to look into House Minziar''s acquisition of the Greenmeadow Province last spring."


    Zeke blinked, surprised by the simplicity of the request. "That''s it?"


    "Yes," Professor Harold nodded. "That will be more than sufficient. Tell him, in particular, that the injunction should focus on House Minziar''s claim that the Greenmeadow Province was historically part of their territory, only becoming autonomous through the Second War of Succession.


    It was this claim that formed the foundation of their acquisition."


    He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. "However, if the proper records are pulled from the central archives, it will be discovered that the maps they relied upon were forged.


    A search through a secret, sealed compartment will reveal the correct diagrams, which were hidden away to cover up this crime. I will give you all the details at our first lesson, which will take place tomorrow afternoon."


    Zeke bowed his head, trying to hide his surprise at securing the deal so easily. "Thank you, Professor. I appreciate your assistance."


    Professor Harold merely gave a thin nod before closing the door firmly. Zeke stood there a moment longer, processing what had just happened, before heading back toward his dormitory.


    The sun had nearly disappeared beyond the horizon by the time he reached Tower 1. The windows were already creaking open along the corridors, preparing for the gargoyles'' nightly patrol.


    Zeke quickened his pace, slipping into his room just as he heard the heavy thud of stone feet in the hallway.


    Inside, he found Ralph standing on his bed, enthusiastically swinging an imaginary sword at invisible opponents.


    "What are you doing?" Zeke asked, dropping his books on the desk.


    "I''m practicing!" Ralph jumped down, his face flushed with exertion. "So what''d you find out? Anything cool?"


    "About Aura Theory? Not much," Zeke said, pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment and his quill. "But I did manage to secure private lessons with Professor Harold de''Hobbson."


    "Hobbson?" Ralph''s eyes widened. "How''d you manage that? They hate you Godfreys almost as much as the Minziars do."


    Zeke explained the deal he''d struck, watching Ralph''s expression grow increasingly amazed.


    "That''s the price of your private lessons?" Ralph burst out laughing when Zeke finished. "No way! Oh, House Minziar is going to hate you even more than they already do!"


    "Why?" Zeke asked, dipping his quill in ink. "Losing a province they just acquired is a setback, sure, but¡ª"


    "The Greenmeadow Province has been semi-autonomous for centuries," Ralph explained, suddenly serious. "It has an iron mine that produces some of the best steel in the nation, which House Arnette buys in massive quantities.


    The quality keeps our forges producing the finest weapons, and the trade keeps the province wealthy enough to pay off nobles who want to take control."


    He sat on the edge of his bed, warming to the topic. "Finally, just last year, House Minziar managed to ''prove'' they were the rightful owners and moved in.


    Everyone knew they were lying, but no one could figure out where they''d hidden the original documents. The archive vaults have serious security - getting in and tampering with records should have been impossible."


    "So if this works..." Zeke began.


    "If this works, House Minziar loses an enormous source of income that they just spent years scheming to acquire," Ralph finished. "And House Arnette will be thrilled.


    Minziar nearly doubled the prices on us, and we need that steel to maintain our reputation." He grinned. "Not that I care about any of that boring stuff, of course."


    "Of course not," Zeke said with a smile, turning back to his letter. "Well, seems worth it to me. I need all the help I can get for this next Trial."


    "Just be careful," Ralph warned, suddenly serious. "House Minziar isn''t known for taking setbacks gracefully. My father says they have more assassins on their payroll than servants."


    "I''ll watch my back," Zeke promised, beginning to write. The letter would need to be carefully worded - formal enough to be taken seriously, but not so detailed that his father would question where the information came from.


    As he wrote, Zeke wondered what other political games were being played behind the scenes at Leoncrest. The Trial system was challenging enough on its own, but now he had to navigate noble vendettas and centuries-old grudges too.


    Still, he couldn''t help but feel a thrill of excitement. This was real politics - not the stuffy table manners taught in class, but the kind that changed borders and shifted power.


    For the first time, Zeke wasn''t just reacting to the plots around him; he was making moves of his own.


    "Dear Father," he wrote, his handwriting unusually neat. "I hope this letter finds you well. I write to bring a matter of some importance to your attention, regarding a provincial issue that''s come up."


    The candle burned late into the night as Zeke carefully crafted his letter. By the time he finished, Ralph was fast asleep, snoring softly from across the room.


    Zeke sealed the letter with wax and set it aside to be sent first thing in the morning.


    Tomorrow would bring Aura training with Professor Harold, another step toward conquering the Third Trial. And perhaps, if he was lucky, a new ally in the political chess game that surrounded House Godfrey.


    One thing was certain - Leoncrest was teaching him lessons that went far beyond any classroom.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior, Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    </b>


    <b>[The Devil You Don''t: Speak with Headmistress Florence about the Third Trial]


    </b>


    <b>[More Training: Meet with Professor Harold for Aura training]


    </b>


    <b>[Letters to Home: Write the letter to your father]</b>

 24. Weapon Mastery

    <b>[Scene Loading...]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Castle - Outer Courtyards]


    </b>


    <b>[Date: November 11, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    "Lunge!"


    "Strike!"


    "Heave!"


    Zeke slashed at the air, putting everything he had into each blow. The practice dummy in front of him was lacerated with half a dozen wounds, all of which magically healed after only a few seconds.


    A bit of sand ran down from the burlap sacks in the moments before the fabric stitched itself back together, almost looking like blood. He stepped back, chest heaving but a grin spreading across his face.


    "Very good!" Victoria strode forward, her sharp eyes sweeping over the small group of students. "You''re all showing remarkable improvement. We''ll run a few more drills, and then call it quits for the morning!"


    Zeke nodded eagerly. The early morning air was crisp, and his breath formed small clouds with each exhale.


    Despite the cold, sweat trickled down his back beneath his training clothes. Victoria quickly demonstrated several more attack patterns, then clapped her hands.


    "Alright! We''re going to go fast now! Follow my lead, and do the best you can! High! Low! High-high! Mid-high! Mid-low!"


    The calls came faster and faster. Zeke''s sword became a blur as he matched each command with the corresponding strike.


    His muscles burned with the effort, but he pushed through, focusing on keeping his form clean even as the pace increased. Blow after blow rained down upon the dummy until finally, Victoria raised her hand.


    "Alright, everyone! I think that''s all we''ve got in us for today! Good work, and I''ll see you all tomorrow!"


    Zeke let out a long breath and sheathed his sword. He grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face, watching as the other students headed back toward the Academy''s main buildings.


    Some dragged their feet, clearly exhausted, but Zeke felt energized. Each session brought him one step closer to mastering the skills he''d need for the Trials.


    He turned and walked over to Victoria, who was gathering her training materials.


    "Hey, Zeke!" She waved as he approached. "You looked sharp out there today. That last sequence was nearly perfect."


    "Thanks," he said, helping her pick up some of the practice equipment. "I''ve been practicing those forms every night before bed."


    "It shows," she replied with an approving nod.


    "I''ve got a bit of an odd question," Zeke said, stacking the wooden practice swords. "I was wondering if I could start getting some extra training in weapons other than a sword."


    Victoria straightened up, giving him a thoughtful look. "Still thinking about the Trial?"


    "Yeah." Zeke pushed a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "The thing is, I''m not just trying to check off boxes for the sake of it. There''s a lot riding on my family right now, and if the Godfreys of the past thought it was important for a warrior to know all sorts of different weapons, then I should probably learn them too."


    He grinned. "Plus, you never know if it might come up again in a future Trial. They could be checking to see if we''ve learned from past challenges."


    "Smart thinking," Victoria said, crossing her arms. "I can certainly teach you a few myself. I''m not as good with the others as I am with a sword, but..."


    She bit her lip, considering. "I know some instructors who specialize in just about every form of combat. I can borrow some books from them, get some tips, and see what I can pass along. We''ll need to find time outside our normal class, though."


    "How about lunchtime?" Zeke suggested, mentally reviewing his packed schedule. Between Victoria''s morning sword class and his evening Aura lessons with Professor Harold, free time was becoming a rare commodity.


    "Don''t you want to eat?" Victoria asked, raising an eyebrow.


    "Sure I do," Zeke replied with a shrug. "But I can grab something and eat it in a few minutes. No problem."


    "Not good for digestion," she pointed out.


    "Unless you can meet even earlier than we already do, I don''t have much choice," Zeke said, grinning. "My schedule''s pretty packed these days."


    Victoria considered this for a moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nodded.


    "Let''s do lunchtime. Three days a week, alright? Nothing as intense as our morning sessions, but enough to teach you the basics of different weapons. First class today? We can meet in the courtyard adjacent to the dining hall, so we don''t have to completely skip eating."


    Zeke''s face lit up. "Perfect! Thanks, Victoria."


    "Don''t thank me yet," she warned with a smile. "You might regret it when you''re learning to use a war hammer."


    When lunch hour arrived, Zeke hurried to the dining hall. He spotted Victoria finishing her meal with a group of upper-year students.


    She caught his eye and nodded toward a side door before excusing herself from her friends.


    Zeke quickly filled a plate with sliced chicken, bread, and a handful of berries, then followed her outside. The small courtyard was enclosed by stone walls on all sides, with decorative garden beds lining the perimeter.


    The center was open space, ideal for their purposes.


    Victoria stood beside a small pile of weapons and equipment laid out on a cloth. She held an open book in her hands, studying it intently.


    "Alright," she said as Zeke approached. "I spoke with my instructors, and they loaned me this manual. It''s written by masters in each combat discipline, specifically designed so teachers who aren''t experts in every weapon can still provide effective training.


    It''s probably our best shot at getting you comfortable with a variety of weapons quickly."


    "That''s perfect," Zeke said, setting his plate on a nearby bench. "Thanks for going to the trouble."


    "Hey, it''s getting me extra credit in some of my classes, so we both win!" Victoria smiled. "What would you like to learn first?"


    Zeke surveyed the assortment of weapons. There was a heavy mace with a flanged head, a long spear with a blunted tip, and several hook-like implements he didn''t recognize.


    He had hoped to practice archery, but there was no bow in the collection.


    "Let''s start with the spear," he decided, picking it up and testing its weight. It was longer than he expected and took a moment to balance properly.


    "Good choice," Victoria nodded, flipping through her book. "The spear is a very useful weapon, with a wide variety of... you know what? I''m not going to read all this academic jargon."


    She lowered the book. "Here''s what you need to know: The spear isn''t usually a one-on-one combat weapon. In warfare, it''s all about the formation. When armies face off, the front soldiers carry spears to form battle lines that are nearly impossible to breach.


    If your army has six feet of pointy steel in front of it, enemy forces think twice before charging."


    Zeke nodded, fascinated. This was the kind of practical knowledge they never taught in regular classes.


    "A properly trained spear line can break cavalry charges and turn the tide of battle," Victoria continued. "But let''s say you''re on your own with just a spear. There are four main ways to use it effectively.


    One: Braced against the ground, usually for stopping larger opponents or horses. Two: Raised and jabbing, used for fending off opponents and keeping them at a distance. Three: Raised and lunging, used for attacking. Four: Thrown as a last resort."


    She raised the book again. "We''ll start with braced position. Hold the spear near its midpoint and lower the back end to touch the ground."


    Following her instructions, Zeke positioned himself. The cobblestones were slippery, making it difficult to set the spear properly, but after a few adjustments, he managed to brace it securely.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Good," Victoria nodded, picking up a shield from their equipment pile. "The tip is blunted for practice, so I won''t get hurt. I''m going to charge you, and you''re going to try to stop me. Ready?"


    "Ready!" Zeke called, widening his stance for stability.


    Victoria backed up several paces, then charged forward, her boots clattering against the stone. She raised the shield and crashed into the spear.


    The impact jarred through Zeke''s arms, and the butt end of the weapon slipped on the cobblestones. A moment later, Victoria had broken through his defense and tapped him with the shield.


    "Not bad for a first try," she said, stepping back. "Again."


    They practiced the braced position for fifteen minutes, with Victoria charging again and again. Zeke''s arms burned with the effort, but each attempt lasted longer than the previous one.


    Finally, on what felt like the twentieth try, he managed to hold his ground. Victoria slammed into the spear and came to a complete stop, the impact sending a shudder through the weapon.


    "Excellent!" she exclaimed, lowering her shield. "You''ve got it now. Your stance is solid."


    Zeke beamed with pride. "What''s next?"


    "Let''s move on to raised and jabbing," Victoria said, demonstrating the stance.


    This technique, she explained, was useful for keeping multiple opponents at bay. The spear''s reach meant you could threaten several people without committing to a single target - valuable when outnumbered.


    They practiced various jabbing patterns, with Victoria correcting his grip and stance.


    "Keep your back elbow higher," she instructed. "That gives you more control over the tip."


    By the time they''d worked through all four techniques, Zeke was drenched in sweat despite the cool autumn air. His muscles ached pleasantly, and he felt a deep satisfaction at having learned something entirely new.


    He collapsed onto the bench beside his now-cold lunch and began eating hungrily while Victoria packed up the equipment.


    "Question," he said between bites. "Is the sword really that much better than other weapons? Why isn''t something like the spear more common among knights?"


    Victoria secured the practice spear in its case before answering. "That''s actually a common misconception. Among regular soldiers and common folk, weapons like spears and axes are far more prevalent.


    A military commander facing battle would much rather have soldiers who can form a proper spear line than individuals skilled with swords."


    She sat beside him on the bench. "Swords became symbols of nobility and knighthood largely because they''re difficult and expensive to make well, and they require significant training to master.


    They''re also versatile personal weapons - you can carry a sword at your hip through daily life in a way you can''t with a spear or war hammer. But in actual warfare? A formation of spearmen will break a formation of swordsmen almost every time."


    Zeke listened intently as Victoria continued explaining different battlefield strategies and weapon applications. Her knowledge was impressive, going far beyond just the mechanics of combat to the real-world applications.


    "Each weapon has its ideal use," she concluded. "The best warrior isn''t the one who masters a single weapon, but the one who knows which tool to use in each situation."


    "That makes a lot of sense," Zeke nodded, finishing the last of his chicken. "I''m already looking forward to our next session."


    Victoria gathered her things and stood. "Two days from now?"


    "I''ll be here," Zeke confirmed. "Thanks again for this."


    Victoria smiled and headed off toward her afternoon classes. Zeke remained seated, reflecting on everything he''d learned.


    He was so lost in thought that he didn''t notice the door opening behind him until a voice broke his reverie.


    "Picking up new tricks, Godfrey?"


    He turned to see Ingrid standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a curious expression on her face. Unlike Victoria''s refined noble bearing, Ingrid had a rugged, practical presence that reminded Zeke of the professional soldiers he''d occasionally seen traveling through his family''s lands.


    "Hey," he greeted her. "Just trying to learn as much as I can."


    "So I see," she replied, approaching. "Victoria''s a good teacher. I watched part of your session from the window."


    "You were spying on us?" Zeke asked, amused.


    "Observing," Ingrid corrected with a half-smile. "I was checking in to see how the star of the Academy was doing."


    "I don''t know, but if he comes by, I''ll ask him," Zeke quipped, grinning.


    She rolled her eyes and sat down next to him. "Come on. Victoria told me you''re only doing this to help your house, but you have to know you''re making waves, right? People are taking notice.


    Some think you''re positioning yourself for something bigger."


    "Well, that''s what they get for thinking," Zeke said with a shrug. "I don''t play politics. You can ask my professor - he''ll tell you I''m terrible at it. I''m just doing what I have to do to keep my family safe."


    Ingrid raised an eyebrow skeptically.


    "Look," Zeke continued, his expression growing more serious, "it''s like this. Say your family was being threatened by rival mercenaries. Maybe training extra hard makes you stand out, but it also means the people you care about don''t wind up with daggers in their backs."


    Ingrid studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. The only reason I came over was to see what you''d say. You seem genuine to me."


    She stood abruptly, as if ready to leave, but Zeke''s curiosity was piqued.


    "What about you?" he asked. "What weapons do you know how to use? I''ve never seen you wearing one, but I bet you''re skilled with several."


    Ingrid turned back, a coy smile playing at her lips. "Now that''s the sort of information that''s going to cost you."


    Zeke laughed. "And what would the price be for that favor?"


    "How about you owe me one?" she replied, returning to sit beside him. "I know how to use a sword, just like everyone else. I''ve trained with spears and bows, but my specialty is actually a sling."


    "A slingshot?" Zeke asked, picturing the Y-shaped toys children played with.


    "No, a sling," Ingrid corrected, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out what initially looked like a simple leather strap.


    As she unfolded it, Zeke saw it was about three feet long and an inch wide, with a widened section in the center forming a small pouch.


    "Remember the story of that shepherd who took down a giant? That kind of sling," she explained. "I''m not as physically strong as my brothers or most of my relatives - that''s just reality.


    But with this weapon?" She held up the simple leather strap. "You don''t need raw strength. It looks silly, I know, but it can deliver tremendous force. I''ve killed lions with it."


    "Wait, hold up," Zeke said, eyes widening. "You''ve seen lions? Not in some noble''s menagerie?"


    "Some of our territory extends out toward the desert regions," she nodded. "It gets pretty wild out there. The lions actually aren''t the worst - they get tired of competing with trolls and wyverns for food, so when humans come through, we''re easy targets."


    She held up the sling. "With this, I can hit something accurately from 200 feet away and can kill most threats that come within 100 feet."


    "That''s incredible," Zeke said, genuinely impressed. He''d never considered a sling as a serious weapon before. "Can you teach me?"


    "That''ll be a second favor," Ingrid said, puffing out her cheeks thoughtfully. "But I think we can work something out. Tomorrow?"


    They spent the next few minutes arranging details for their training session. Ingrid knew several secluded spots around the castle grounds where they could practice without drawing attention.


    When they finished, Zeke extended his hand, and they shook on their agreement.


    "You''re going to be sore in places you didn''t know you had muscles," Ingrid warned him with a mischievous grin.


    "Wouldn''t be the first time," Zeke replied cheerfully. "I''ll see you tomorrow."


    As Ingrid departed, Zeke gathered his things and headed for his afternoon classes. His schedule was now packed to bursting - morning sword training with Victoria, lunchtime weapon sessions three days a week, new sling training with Ingrid, evening Aura lessons with Professor Harold, and regular classes in between.


    He''d barely have time to breathe, let alone sleep.


    But as he walked through the castle corridors, Zeke couldn''t help smiling. Each new skill brought him one step closer to mastering the Trials and saving his family.


    And if he was honest with himself, he was enjoying the challenge.


    Let the other students spend their free time gambling and gossiping in the common rooms. By the time Zeke was finished, he''d know how to fight with everything from a war hammer to a dinner fork.


    And if the next Trial involved combat skills of any kind, he''d be more than ready.


    The next day, Zeke rose before dawn as usual for Victoria''s sword class. The training was grueling, but he pushed through with enthusiasm, earning a nod of approval from Victoria when he executed a particularly complex maneuver perfectly.


    After morning classes came his first session with Ingrid. She led him to a secluded garden on the eastern side of the castle grounds, where high walls ensured privacy and a row of hay targets had been set up against the far wall.


    "First things first," Ingrid said, handing him a simple leather sling similar to hers. "This is not a toy. People underestimate slings because they look primitive, but a good slinger can kill a man in full plate armor by targeting the right spots."


    She showed him how to hold the sling properly, one end looped around his middle finger, the other held between thumb and forefinger. The pouch in the center would cradle the stone or lead bullet.


    "The key is the release point," she explained, demonstrating the motion slowly. "You swing it overhead like this, building momentum, and then release the free end at exactly the right moment.


    Too early, and your shot goes high. Too late, and it hits the ground."


    Zeke watched intently as she loaded a smooth stone into her sling, whirled it three times over her head, and released. The stone flew true, smashing into the center of a hay target fifty feet away.


    "That looked easy," Zeke said, picking up a stone from the pile she''d gathered.


    "It''s not," Ingrid warned. "You''re going to miss. A lot. The important thing is to keep your eye on the target and maintain consistent motion."


    She was right. Zeke''s first attempt sent the stone sailing over the garden wall. His second went directly into the ground at his feet.


    The third spun wildly to the left, nearly hitting a decorative statue.


    "Not even close," Ingrid said, hiding a smile.


    "I''ll get it," Zeke replied, undeterred. He picked up another stone and tried again.


    For the next hour, Zeke practiced the basic motion while Ingrid corrected his technique. By the end of the session, he''d managed to hit the vicinity of the targets a few times, though nothing near the accuracy Ingrid displayed.


    "You''re actually doing better than most beginners," she admitted as they packed up. "It took me weeks to hit anything at all when I first started."


    "Really?" Zeke asked, rotating his sore shoulder.


    "No, I was a natural," Ingrid grinned. "But you''re not terrible. We''ll work on your aim next time."


    Despite his aching muscles, Zeke laughed. "I''ll take that as a compliment."


    "You should," she replied. "Oh, and one more thing. Don''t tell anyone I''m teaching you this. Slings aren''t considered ''noble'' weapons - they''re commoner tools.


    Some of the stuffier aristocrats would look down on both of us."


    "Your secret''s safe with me," Zeke promised. "Besides, if what you showed me is true, I''d rather have this skill and be mocked than be respected and dead."


    "Smart man," Ingrid nodded approvingly. "Same time tomorrow?"


    "Wouldn''t miss it," Zeke said.


    That evening, after his Aura lessons with Professor Harold, Zeke collapsed onto his bed, every muscle in his body protesting. Ralph looked up from the blade he was polishing.


    "You look like you wrestled a bear," he commented.


    "Feels more like the bear won," Zeke replied with a tired smile.


    "Worth it?"


    Zeke thought about everything he''d learned in just the past two days - sword techniques from Victoria, spear combat basics, the beginning of sling mastery with Ingrid, and advanced Aura control from Professor Harold.


    "Absolutely worth it," he said with conviction. "By the time the next Trial comes around, I''ll be ready for anything."


    As he drifted off to sleep, Zeke''s mind was already looking forward to tomorrow''s training. There were worlds of skills to master, and he intended to learn them all.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior, Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    </b>


    <b>[The Devil You Don''t: Speak with Headmistress Florence about the Third Trial]</b>


    <b>


    [Even More Training: Meet with Victoria for unique weapon training]


    </b>


    <b>[More and More and More and More Training: Meet with Ingrid to learn how to use a sling]</b>

 25. Good Memories

    <b>[Scene Loading...]</b>


    <b>


    [Location: Leoncrest Castle - Tower 1]


    </b>


    <b>[Date: November 20, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    Zeke came running through the door of his room and flopped onto his bed with a satisfied groan. His muscles burned from the day''s training, but the good kind of burn that meant progress.


    It had been about a week since he''d started his intensified training routine, and while his body protested, his spirit soared at each new skill mastered.


    "I''m telling you, you''re doing too much," Ralph commented, glancing up from the small dagger he was polishing. "You''re going to put yourself in an early grave."


    "Nah," Zeke replied, stretching his arms overhead until his shoulders popped. "Everyone else will put me in an early grave if I don''t learn to stand my ground. Besides, I''m getting stronger every day!"


    "I think you''re exaggerating how many people want to kill you," Ralph shook his head, returning to his work.


    "Maybe," Zeke grinned, rolling onto his side. "But better prepared than surprised. Right now, all I know is I could sleep for a week."


    Knock-knock.


    "Now who could that be?" Ralph wondered aloud, moving to open the door. His eyebrows shot up. "Ah! Allow me to welcome you into our humble abode, dear lady. Your wish is our command." He executed an exaggerated bow.


    Elise laughed as she stepped into the room. Her eyes quickly found Zeke sprawled across his bed. "Hey! You okay? You look like you''ve been wrestling bears."


    "Just wrestling with Victoria''s sword drills," Zeke replied, sitting up with renewed energy. "What''s up? Everything alright?"


    "Everything''s fine," she nodded. "I was just wondering if you were still planning to come to the cooking class tonight. We''re making pies, remember?"


    Zeke blinked a few times, then his face lit up. "That''s right! Apple pies!" He jumped to his feet, fatigue seemingly forgotten. "I''ve been looking forward to it all week."


    "We don''t have to go if you''re too tired," Elise said, studying his face with concern. "You''ve been pushing yourself pretty hard."


    "And miss pie-making? Not a chance!" Zeke grabbed his jacket from the bedpost. "I haven''t had a good pie since the harvest festival back home. Let''s go!"


    "You''re sure?" Elise asked again.


    "Absolutely," Zeke nodded firmly. "Besides, watching you work magic with food is worth staying awake for."


    "He''ll be back later, Ralph!" Elise called as they headed out.


    "I won''t wait up!" Ralph replied with a knowing grin.


    The halls were quiet as they made their way down through the castle toward the cooking classroom. Most students were either studying in their rooms or gathered in the common areas, playing games or sharing gossip.


    Torches cast a warm glow along the corridors, chasing away the November chill that seeped through the stone walls.


    "Thanks for coming to these classes with me," Elise said, glancing over at him. "It really does mean a lot."


    "Are you kidding? Thank you for inviting me," Zeke replied, hopping down the last few steps of a staircase. "It''s nice seeing something that''s such a big part of your life, you know?"


    "Yeah," she nodded, then frowned slightly. "I just wish I could see your childhood world too. What was it like growing up in a noble house?"


    "Oh, nothing special," Zeke shrugged, ducking beneath a low archway. "I spent most of my time trying to escape my tutors and going fishing with Artax. All the really interesting stuff started happening in the last six months. You haven''t missed much."


    "Somehow I doubt that," Elise smiled. "But I''ll take your word for it."


    As they approached the classroom, the smell of baking spices wafted through the air. Zeke''s stomach rumbled in response.


    "So what exactly goes into making a pie?" he asked. "I''ve eaten plenty, but never actually seen one being made."


    "Want me to spoil the surprise?" Elise asked, eyes twinkling.


    "No, but I''m curious how country folk like you make pies compared to the castle kitchen," he clarified. "Any big differences?"


    She considered the question for a moment. "Well, I suppose the main difference would be gathering the ingredients. When I was growing up, my mother and I would trek out into the woods to collect berries and fruits ourselves.


    There were dozens of berry bushes if you knew where to look, or we might walk down the road to find wild apple trees."


    Her eyes took on a distant look as she continued. "We''d spend hours searching for the perfect ones. Eventually, it became a competition to see who could bring back the most."


    She sighed, smiling at the memory. "Those were wonderful days."


    Zeke listened, fascinated by this glimpse into a life so different from his own. Where he had grown up with servants bringing food to the table, Elise had helped create meals from the very beginning.


    They soon reached the classroom. Ericka had secured a much larger space this time, and it was already filling with students.


    Zeke was surprised at how many people had come - at least three times more than the first class.


    "Popular class," he remarked as Elise led him to a workstation along the side wall.


    "Who wouldn''t want to learn to make pie?" Elise replied.


    As more students filtered in, Zeke observed the crowd with interest. There were far more nobles than he would have expected for what was traditionally considered servants'' work.


    Maybe cooking was becoming fashionable among the aristocracy? Or perhaps, like him, they were just looking for something different from the usual routine of combat training and political maneuvering.


    When the room was nearly full, Ericka stepped forward, clapping her hands for attention.


    "First off, I want to thank everyone for coming tonight," she announced, her voice carrying across the crowded room. "It''s wonderful to see such enthusiasm! Today, we''re making apple pie, a staple of the eastern half of the kingdom.


    We''ll start by selecting our fruit - if one person from each team could come forward, please take ten apples from this barrel."


    She gestured toward a large wooden barrel overflowing with crisp green apples. Elise nodded to Zeke and slipped off to join the line.


    When she returned, she carried ten perfect specimens that she arranged neatly across their workspace.


    "These look amazing," Zeke said, picking one up and inhaling its fresh, tart scent.


    "Alright, everyone!" Ericka called out. "First, we''ll prepare the filling. When you cut the apples, they''ll start browning immediately, so that''ll be the last thing we do.


    For now, look under your workstation and pull out the supplies there."


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Zeke crouched down and helped Elise retrieve several bowls, measuring cups, and wooden spoons. Following Ericka''s instructions, they began mixing different types of sugar with a chunk of butter, creating a thick, sweet paste that smelled incredible.


    "The way my mom makes it," Elise whispered, leaning closer, "we add nutmeg and ginger. I guess this recipe is more traditional."


    "Your mom''s version sounds better," Zeke whispered back, still stirring the mixture.


    When the filling base was complete, Ericka directed them to the next step: making the crust.


    "Now, I know you''re all expert bread makers after our first class," she called out with a smile, "but pie crust is an entirely different skill. Watch carefully!"


    She demonstrated the technique, pouring flour onto the workspace, adding cold butter, and then - to Zeke''s surprise - using a knife to cut the butter into the flour rather than mixing it.


    "This seems backwards," Zeke muttered as he tried to follow along. "Why not just mix it all together?"


    "The butter needs to stay cold and in little pieces," Elise explained. "That''s what makes the crust flaky. If you mix it too much, it gets tough."


    Zeke attacked the task with enthusiasm, chopping at the mixture with more energy than precision. Despite his best efforts, his arms - hardened from weeks of weapon training - began to burn from the unfamiliar motion.


    "Like this?" he asked, showing Elise his progress.


    "Almost," she encouraged. "Just a bit more... there, that''s perfect!"


    He handed the bowl to Elise, who added ice water, quickly forming the mixture into a ball of dough. She dusted the workspace with flour and began to roll out the dough before Ericka had even announced that step.


    "And now we''ll begin to roll the dough!" Ericka called out.


    Elise froze mid-roll, her cheeks flushing. "Oops. I''m getting ahead of the lesson."


    "Show-off," Zeke teased, nudging her with his elbow.


    Elise continued rolling, creating a large rectangle that she then trimmed to size. She gathered the scraps, rolled them out again, and cut the dough in half.


    With surprising dexterity, she draped one half over their pie tin, the pastry settling perfectly into place.


    "That''s amazing," Zeke said, genuinely impressed. "How many pies have you made?"


    "Hundreds, probably," Elise replied with a modest shrug. "It becomes second nature after a while."


    "Ahem."


    They looked up to find Ericka standing across from them, one eyebrow raised as she observed Elise''s already-perfect crust.


    "Hello," Elise said sheepishly, giving a small wave.


    "You seem to know this recipe better than I do," Ericka commented, arms crossed.


    "Maybe a little?" Elise winced.


    Ericka''s stern expression melted into a smile. "I''m just teasing. Think you can finish on your own?"


    Elise nodded enthusiastically.


    "Then go for it. I''ll check back in a few minutes."


    When Ericka moved on, Elise turned to Zeke with excitement. "Now for the fun part - chopping the apples!"


    Zeke picked up one of the apples and a nearby knife. He placed the fruit on the cutting board and sliced through it with a firm stroke. "Like this?"


    "Almost," Elise replied with a mysterious smile. She gathered the remaining nine apples and arranged them in a neat row.


    Holding the knife above them, she tapped the first apple with just the lightest touch.


    WHOMP!


    In an instant, all nine apples fell apart into perfect, even slices, their cores still standing upright like little trees. The slices fanned out like flower petals, perfectly arranged.


    Zeke''s jaw dropped. "You can do that?!"


    "Just another little trick I picked up," Elise said, trying and failing to look nonchalant.


    "That''s not a ''little trick'' - that''s incredible!" Zeke exclaimed, examining the perfectly cut slices. "I''ve never seen anything like it. Could you show me again? Wait, we don''t have any more apples..."


    "Psst," came a whisper from the next table. A student leaned over, gesturing to their untouched apples. "Could you do that for us too?"


    Elise''s face brightened. "With pleasure."


    She moved to their table and, with another light tap, transformed their whole apples into perfect slices. Word spread quickly, and soon Elise was making her way around the room, performing her apple-cutting magic for delighted classmates.


    Students laughed and applauded with each demonstration, and Ericka watched with amazement, scribbling notes in a small book.


    Zeke leaned against their workstation, watching Elise with a proud smile. She was usually so shy about her commoner background, but here, in her element, she shone.


    Everyone was seeing what he already knew - that Elise was extraordinary.


    When she completed her circuit of the room, Ericka addressed the class again. "Well, since that step has been completed for us so... efficiently," she said with an appreciative nod toward Elise, "let''s move on! Please mix your apple slices with the sugar mixture."


    Elise hurried back to their station, her cheeks pink from all the attention. "I didn''t mean to take over the class," she whispered to Zeke.


    "Are you kidding? That was amazing!" he replied. "Everyone loved it. Look at Ericka - I think she''s already planning to recruit you as her assistant."


    They mixed their apple slices with the sugar filling and poured everything into the waiting pie crust. While most students simply laid the second piece of dough over the top, Elise had different plans.


    She cut the remaining dough into thin strips and began weaving them into an intricate lattice pattern.


    "That looks complicated," Zeke observed, watching her fingers move with practiced precision.


    "Not really, once you know the pattern," Elise replied. "Over, under, over, under - just like basket weaving."


    The finished lattice was beautiful, far more impressive than the solid tops on the other pies. Ericka came by again to admire their work before directing everyone to place their pies in the ovens.


    With their creation baking, Zeke and Elise sat back at their station to wait.


    "Did you make pies with your mother often?" Zeke asked.


    "Here and there," Elise nodded. "Not every week or anything, and of course in winter it wasn''t possible without fresh fruit."


    A nostalgic smile crossed her face. "I remember waiting all spring for the berries to ripen. There was a bush not far from our house - it never had enough berries to make anything with, but it showed us when the others in the forest would be ready."


    She leaned forward, eyes bright with the memory. "I''d run out every morning to check on it, from the first moment I spotted leaf buds. My mom would come look and say, ''No, not yet,'' and I''d be so disappointed!


    But I''d go right back out the next day, and the next, until finally she''d pick a berry, taste it, and declare it was time."


    "That sounds wonderful," Zeke said, imagining little Elise checking her berry bush day after day.


    "It was. The waiting was terrible, but that just made the joy greater when the time finally came," she sighed contentedly. "This was nice. Thank you for coming."


    "Excuse me," Ericka approached, notebook in hand. "I couldn''t help overhearing. Would you be willing to share more stories about rural cooking traditions sometime? I''m fascinated by regional techniques."


    "Sure!" Elise agreed readily. After a moment, she bit her lip thoughtfully. "What are we making in the next class?"


    "I was planning on cakes," Ericka replied.


    Elise''s eyes lit up. "You should have us make pizza instead!"


    "Pizza?" Ericka frowned. "What''s that?"


    "It''s a dish from way out east, from another country," Elise explained excitedly, bouncing slightly on her stool. "Every village has their own version of it. I could meet with you before next class to explain the details!"


    While Elise and Ericka discussed the merits of this mysterious "pizza," the smell of baking pies filled the room. Zeke inhaled deeply, enjoying the sweet, cinnamony aroma.


    He hadn''t expected to find so much joy in something as simple as baking, but there was something deeply satisfying about creating food with his own hands.


    Soon the timer chimed, and Ericka directed everyone to remove their pies from the ovens. Elise slipped on thick cloth mitts and carefully extracted their creation.


    The lattice top had browned perfectly, and bubbling apple filling peeked through the gaps.


    "That smells incredible," Zeke said as Elise set the hot pie on a cooling rack.


    "Just wait until you taste it," she promised.


    After the pies had cooled slightly, Ericka provided small plates and forks, and everyone eagerly cut into their creations. Zeke watched as Elise sliced a perfect wedge from their pie, the filling still steaming as she transferred it to his plate.


    "Moment of truth," she said, watching expectantly as he took his first bite.


    The flavor was incredible - sweet, tart, buttery, and warm all at once. Zeke closed his eyes, savoring the taste.


    "This," he declared after swallowing, "is the best thing I''ve ever eaten."


    Elise beamed with pride. "Better than the castle kitchen''s desserts?"


    "A hundred times better," Zeke confirmed, already taking another bite. "We should open a pie shop if this whole ''saving House Godfrey'' thing doesn''t work out."


    Elise laughed, her eyes crinkling with delight. "I''ll hold you to that."


    As they enjoyed their pie, other students stopped by to compliment their creation and ask Elise for tips. She answered each question with growing confidence, no longer the shy commoner but an expert in her element.


    When the class ended, Ericka announced that the next session would indeed feature Elise''s suggested dish - pizza. Excited chatter filled the room as students packed up their supplies and wrapped leftover pie slices to take with them.


    "Can you believe it?" Elise said as they headed back toward the dormitories. "They''re actually going to learn to make pizza because of me!"


    "Of course they are," Zeke replied, carrying their wrapped pie pieces. "You clearly know more about cooking than anyone else here. Ericka would be crazy not to take your suggestions."


    Elise practically skipped down the hallway, enthusiasm overriding her usual reserve. "Wait until you try pizza - it''s completely different from anything you''ve had before.


    The dough is flat and crispy, and you put cheese and tomatoes and herbs on top, and sometimes meats or vegetables..."


    Zeke listened to her excited description, caught up in her happiness. Despite his exhaustion from the day''s training, he felt rejuvenated by the evening''s activities.


    There was something special about learning skills that had nothing to do with combat or politics - something purely for enjoyment.


    "Next class can''t come soon enough," he said as they reached the staircase where they would part ways. "Save me a spot at your workstation?"


    "Always," Elise promised, taking her share of the pie. "Get some rest, Zeke. You still look tired."


    "Worth it," he replied with a grin. "See you tomorrow!"


    As he climbed the stairs back to his tower, Zeke realized he was already looking forward to the next cooking class almost as much as he anticipated his weapon training.


    Perhaps, he thought, becoming a true knight meant more than just mastering swords and spears - it meant embracing all kinds of knowledge, even the sweet art of baking pies.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior, Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    [The Devil You Don''t: Speak with Headmistress Florence about the Third Trial]


    [Return to Base: Head back to your dorm room]</b>

 26. Right Thing

    <b>[Scene Loading...]</b>


    <b>


    [Location: Leoncrest Castle - Tower 12]


    </b>


    <b>[Date: November 25, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    Zeke took the tower stairs two at a time, his boots barely touching the worn stone as he bounded upward. The spiral staircase to the Headmistress''s office seemed to stretch forever, each turn revealing yet another flight.


    Any normal student might have been winded halfway up, but weeks of intense training had built Zeke''s endurance.


    Still, it wasn''t the climb that had his heart racing - it was the meeting ahead. Headmistress Florence had made her dislike painfully obvious during his first two Trials.


    Now he needed to request the third one from a woman who''d clearly prefer to see him fail.


    "No point putting it off," he muttered to himself with a determined grin. "Let''s see what she''s got planned this time."


    When he finally reached the imposing double doors of her office, he paused to straighten his uniform and catch his breath. The doors towered over him, dark oak carved with scenes of ancient battles.


    He rapped firmly three times.


    BROOOOOOM!


    The doors swung inward of their own accord, as if pushed by invisible hands. Zeke stepped into the cavernous office, his footsteps echoing across the stone floor.


    Headmistress Florence sat behind her massive desk, thin fingers steepled before her face. The severed head in its jar seemed to watch him as he approached.


    "You''re five minutes late," she snapped, not bothering with a greeting.


    "Just finished Aura Training with Professor Harold," Zeke replied easily. "He ran long today and I came straight here the moment he dismissed us."


    It wasn''t an apology - just a statement of fact. Victoria had been teaching him that in noble circles, excessive apologizing was seen as weakness.


    "I see." Headmistress Florence''s lips thinned further, if that was possible. "Well, you requested this meeting. What can I do for you?"


    "I''d like to set up the Third Trial," Zeke said, meeting her gaze directly. "I know you''re busy, but I''m eager to keep moving forward."


    Something flickered behind her eyes - surprise, perhaps? Or annoyance?


    "Ah. I see." Her long fingers tapped methodically against the polished wood of her desk. "I was merely contemplating the Trial at hand. It is the final of the introductory trials, and among the more unique ones.


    I presume that Adrian de''Levayne will want to moderate it again, as he''s quite qualified for it, but..." She paused, studying Zeke''s reaction. "I also believe a second moderator should be called upon. Perhaps Professor Gerald?"


    There it was - the threat, thinly veiled. Professor Gerald had been harder on Zeke than any other student since their first disastrous Aura class.


    Having him judge the Trial would be like asking a wolf to fairly evaluate a rabbit.


    Zeke grinned. "That works for me. Professor Gerald knows his stuff, and he definitely won''t give me any special treatment."


    The Headmistress''s eyebrows rose slightly, clearly not expecting his easy acceptance.


    "Then I''m glad we''re in agreement," she said, turning to study a calendar on the wall. "I believe we shall set the date for... January 25th. You are dismissed."


    Zeke didn''t move. "That''s two months away."


    Her head snapped back toward him, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Do you dare question me? If I allowed you to simply take all 34 Trials right now, do you think that would make you a warrior?


    The 34 Trials are designed to test you, not forge you. You are a student here at Leoncrest first and foremost. Do not forget it."


    "You''re right," Zeke said, nodding thoughtfully. "More training time means a better chance to succeed. January 25th it is."


    He paused, then added, "Will you give me the specific time and place now, or should I look for correspondence closer to the date?"


    It was a strategic question. Without pinning her down, he might show up on January 25th only to be told he''d missed the Trial entirely.


    "I will send out a letter no later than January 13th, once I have finalized the plans," she answered after a moment. "You are dismissed."


    Zeke rose from his chair and turned toward the door, already planning how to make the most of the extra training time. Two months might actually be exactly what he needed to master the Aura techniques Professor Harold had been teaching him.


    "Oh. One moment."


    He paused, turning back toward the Headmistress. Something in her voice had changed - a new sharpness that put him instantly on guard.


    "I was wondering if you know who the knight was, the one who tested you back in the Second Trial."


    The question seemed casual, but Zeke knew better. Constantine had whispered to him during that Trial, and now the Headmistress was fishing for information.


    He chose his words carefully.


    "During the fight, he mentioned that he commanded the most respected unit of soldiers in the Capital," Zeke answered. "I wrote to my father about it, and he gave me a name - Constantine? I don''t know much more than that."


    It wasn''t a lie. He had written to his father, though neither his father nor Artax had shared much in their replies beyond confirming Constantine had indeed taken over Artax''s old command.


    "Are you aware that he was in command of the same unit your brother formerly ran?" the Headmistress asked, her eyes never leaving Zeke''s face.


    "What do you mean, ''was in command''?" Zeke asked, instantly alert.


    "That''s what I meant to mention," she leaned forward, her voice dropping. "He was killed on his way back from the Academy to the Capital. Bandits struck his carriage as it crossed a bridge.


    The horses panicked, and the whole thing went over the edge before he even had a chance to draw his weapon. A terrible loss."


    Her eyes gleamed with something that might have been satisfaction.


    "Why are you telling me this?" Zeke asked, keeping his face neutral despite the chill running down his spine.


    "Well, he used to know your brother," she shrugged with mock sympathy. "I simply thought it might be worth writing back to tell him. Perhaps he cared about his old friend."


    The message couldn''t have been clearer if she''d written it out: They knew Constantine had spoken to Zeke, but not what he''d said. And now Constantine was dead because of it.


    "I''ll write to Artax and let him know," Zeke said evenly. "I''m sure he''ll be grieved."


    With that, he turned and walked out, his mind racing. The doors slammed shut behind him with an ominous boom.


    As he descended the tower stairs, Constantine''s warning echoed in his mind: "Beware the Court."


    What court? The Imperial Court? The Senate? Or something else entirely?


    His feet carried him automatically toward the library. If anyone knew what "the Court" might refer to, it would be Adrian.


    The old librarian seemed to know everything about everyone at Leoncrest.


    The library was quieter than usual when he arrived, with only a few students hurriedly finishing their work before curfew. The usual soft murmur of voices was absent, making his footsteps sound unnaturally loud on the polished floor.


    Zeke scanned the main chamber but saw no sign of Adrian''s familiar figure moving among the shelves. Strange. The old librarian was usually present until the last student left.


    "If it isn''t the wonder child himself."


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Zeke turned to find Diocletian leaning against a bookshelf, arms crossed and a familiar sneer on his face. Unlike usual, he was alone - no sycophantic followers trailing behind him.


    "Evening, Diocletian," Zeke replied cheerfully. "I''m not looking for trouble, just Adrian."


    "Then you''re wasting your time. He''s not here." Diocletian sighed dramatically. "I''ve been looking for him too. I need his help with this history project I''m working on, and I find it very annoying that he isn''t present at this time to assist me.


    Isn''t that his job?"


    "Strictly speaking, no," Zeke corrected. "He just happens to be willing to help us in his free time."


    "Well, you can call it what you will," Diocletian sniffed. "I say all the professors are here to help us achieve greatness, and if they''re not even willing to show up, I''m not sure what I can reasonably be expected to do about it."


    He paused, a strange gleam entering his eyes. "I don''t suppose you''d want to help me look for him? Perhaps he''s simply deeper in the library. I''ve heard this place has some rather hidden locations."


    Every instinct in Zeke''s body screamed danger. Diocletian had never voluntarily sought his company before, and the idea that he would now want to explore the library together was suspicious at best.


    The smart move would be to politely decline and leave.


    But then again, where was the fun in that?


    "Sure, why not?" Zeke shrugged with a grin. "I''ve got time before curfew."


    If Diocletian was planning something, Zeke was curious to find out what. Besides, after weeks of training with Victoria and Ingrid, he was confident in his ability to handle whatever the other boy might try.


    They began walking through the library, ostensibly searching for Adrian but really watching each other from the corners of their eyes. They passed the enormous wall-mounted shelves and the small study alcoves where a few desperate students frantically flipped through pages, racing against the ticking clock on the wall.


    As they reached the back of the library, Zeke spotted a narrow gap between a stone pillar and a tall bookcase. He remembered Adrian mentioning hidden study chambers that most students never noticed.


    "Hey, what about right there?" he suggested, pointing to the gap.


    Diocletian nodded a bit too eagerly, and they approached. The opening was so narrow that Zeke had to turn sideways to squeeze through.


    Inside was a small room no larger than a coach cabin, with a round table in the center surrounded by benches - the perfect spot for private study, completely isolated from the rest of the library.


    "Huh, this is actually pretty cool," Zeke remarked, genuinely impressed despite his suspicion. He''d have to remember this spot for future study sessions.


    The soft scrape of steel against leather was his only warning.


    Zeke spun around as Diocletian lunged forward, a dagger in his hand. Reacting on pure instinct, Zeke drew his own sword with lightning speed, deflecting the thrust upward.


    The clash of metal echoed in the small space.


    Diocletian''s eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting such a quick response. Before he could recover, Zeke''s fist connected solidly with his jaw.


    The blow sent Diocletian sprawling backward onto one of the benches. He groaned, sliding down to the floor, his dagger clattering away.


    "Did you really think I was going to fall for that?" Zeke asked, shaking his head.


    Diocletian growled, pushing himself up from the floor. Zeke didn''t give him the chance to regain his footing - a second punch sent him back down.


    "Stay down if you know what''s good for you," Zeke advised, backing toward the exit.


    As he slipped out of the alcove, a mischievous idea struck him. The small movable bookshelf nearby was exactly the right size to cover the gap.


    With a grunt, Zeke pushed it across the opening, completely blocking the entrance to the study nook.


    "That ought to teach you something," he said, admiring his handiwork. A glance at the wall clock showed it was nearly curfew. "The bookcase will keep the gargoyles out, so you''ll be safe enough. Someone will find you in the morning."


    He could hear Diocletian''s muffled shouts and banging from inside, but the thick bookcase effectively contained both the noise and the angry student. Zeke considered for a moment - maybe trapping Diocletian was a bit extreme?


    But then again, the boy had just tried to stab him. A night in the library seemed like a fair trade.


    "Think of it as extra study time!" Zeke called cheerfully through the bookcase before turning away.


    He hurried through the now-empty library, the last few students having departed. The gargoyles would be roaming the halls soon, and he needed to get back to his dorm.


    He jogged across the main hall and started up the long flight of stairs to the residential tower.


    He was about halfway up when he heard the telltale creaking of windows opening throughout the castle.


    "Not yet!" Zeke muttered, breaking into a full sprint.


    Heavy stone feet thumped in the hallway above, and a gargoyle''s head appeared at the top of the staircase, its eyes gleaming in the darkness.


    "Naughty student, out past curfew!" it growled.


    "Just running a bit late!" Zeke called back, racing up the remaining steps.


    The gargoyle lunged forward, stone claws extended, but Zeke ducked under its reach and bolted down the corridor toward his room. He could hear more gargoyles converging from other hallways, their heavy footsteps echoing on the stone floors.


    Skidding to a stop in front of his door, Zeke yanked it open, dove inside, and slammed it shut just as a gargoyle rounded the corner.


    "I guess that''s that," the monster grumbled from the other side, claws scratching briefly at the wood. "He got away. Stupid student. I was hungry."


    Stone footsteps thumped away down the hall. Zeke leaned against the door, heart pounding from the chase and a wide grin splitting his face.


    Nothing like a little danger to get the blood flowing.


    "Cutting it awfully close, aren''t we?" Ralph commented from his desk, where he was polishing what looked like a small throwing knife.


    "Had a study session in the library," Zeke replied, flopping onto his bed. "Lost track of time."


    "Uh-huh," Ralph said skeptically. "And I suppose that''s why you''re grinning like you just pulled off the heist of the century?"


    "Maybe I did," Zeke laughed. "Let''s just say Diocletian will be spending some quality time with the books tonight."


    Ralph raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"


    "Probably not," Zeke admitted. "Though I bet the whole Academy will be talking about it by breakfast tomorrow."


    As night fell over Leoncrest, Zeke stared out the window at the stars appearing one by one. Constantine''s warning still echoed in his mind, now given new weight by the Headmistress''s thinly veiled threat.


    Beware the Court. Whatever it was, someone had died for mentioning it to him.


    The Third Trial was now two months away - time he would use not just for training, but for finding answers. Adrian had been mysteriously absent from the library, which was unusual in itself.


    Tomorrow, Zeke would seek him out, along with uncovering whatever this mysterious "Court" might be.


    As he drifted toward sleep, his mind replayed the confrontation with Diocletian. The other boy had actually tried to kill him - or at least seriously harm him.


    The stakes at Leoncrest were clearly higher than simple academic competition.


    He''d have to watch his back more carefully from now on. But rather than feeling afraid, Zeke felt a strange excitement building.


    Danger meant he was getting closer to whatever secrets surrounded House Godfrey''s fall from grace.


    And if there was one thing Zeke loved more than a good fight, it was a good mystery.


    The next morning, Zeke woke earlier than usual, slipping out of the room before Ralph had even stirred. He needed to check if Adrian had returned to the library, and frankly, he wasn''t in a hurry to face Diocletian''s wrath after a night trapped in the study alcove.


    The castle was peaceful in the pre-dawn hours. A few servants moved silently through the corridors, lighting lamps and preparing for the day, but most students were still asleep.


    Zeke nodded to a groundskeeper as he took a shortcut through the eastern courtyard, frost crunching beneath his boots.


    When he reached the library, he was surprised to find the massive oak doors already open. Inside, oil lamps cast a warm glow over the reading tables, and the smell of fresh bread wafted through the air - someone had brought breakfast to the library staff.


    Adrian stood near the center of the room, directing two younger assistants who were reshelving books from a cart. He looked tired but otherwise unharmed, much to Zeke''s relief.


    "You''re up early," Adrian remarked as Zeke approached. "Eager to start your studies?"


    "Looking for you, actually," Zeke replied. "I came by last night, but you weren''t here."


    "Ah, yes," Adrian nodded, his expression growing serious. "I was called away on urgent business. Something that couldn''t wait, I''m afraid."


    Before Zeke could ask for details, a commotion at the library entrance drew their attention. Professor Harkin, the stern history instructor, strode in with Diocletian trailing behind him, looking disheveled and furious.


    "There!" Diocletian shouted, pointing directly at Zeke. "That''s him! He trapped me in that alcove all night!"


    Professor Harkin turned to Zeke with a disapproving frown. "Is this true, de''Godfrey?"


    Zeke met the professor''s gaze steadily. "It is, sir. But only after he tried to stab me."


    "That''s a lie!" Diocletian protested, his face reddening. "I was simply showing him a historical artifact - a ceremonial dagger - when he attacked me without provocation!"


    Adrian stepped forward, his eyebrows raised. "A ceremonial dagger? From my library? I don''t recall giving you permission to handle any of the artifacts, Diocletian."


    "Well, I..." Diocletian faltered, realizing his mistake.


    "Furthermore," Adrian continued, "might I ask why you needed to show this supposed artifact in one of the most secluded corners of the library, rather than at a proper reading table?"


    Diocletian''s mouth opened and closed silently as he searched for an explanation.


    Professor Harkin sighed heavily. "Both of you, come with me. The Headmistress will need to sort this out."


    "Actually," Adrian interjected smoothly, "as this incident occurred within the library, it falls under my jurisdiction. I believe I can handle this matter without troubling the Headmistress."


    The history professor hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Very well. But I expect a full report."


    After Professor Harkin departed, Adrian turned to the two boys. "Diocletian, you will report to Professor Merton for detention every evening this week. Attempting to remove historical artifacts from the library is a serious offense."


    "But I didn''t-" Diocletian began.


    "Unless you''d prefer I mention the knife to the Headmistress?" Adrian suggested mildly.


    Diocletian''s mouth snapped shut, and he glared venomously at Zeke before stalking off toward the exit.


    "As for you," Adrian continued, turning to Zeke, "while self-defense is understandable, trapping another student overnight was excessive. You''ll assist me in the library for three evenings this week."


    Zeke nodded, accepting the punishment without complaint. "Thank you."


    Once Diocletian was gone and the library assistants had moved out of earshot, Adrian''s expression grew grave. "Now, what was so urgent that you sought me out last night?"


    "Constantine," Zeke said quietly. "The knight from my Second Trial. He''s dead."


    Adrian''s face remained carefully neutral, but Zeke noticed his hands tighten slightly on the book he was holding. "How did you come by this information?"


    "Headmistress Florence told me yesterday. She said his carriage went off a bridge on the way back to the Capital." Zeke leaned closer, lowering his voice further. "She made it sound like an accident, but the way she told me... I don''t think it was."


    "I see." Adrian carefully placed the book on a nearby shelf. "And you''re telling me this because...?"


    "Because Constantine told me something during the Trial. He said to ''beware the Court.'' I need to know what that means."


    Adrian went very still, his eyes darting briefly to the library''s far corners as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Not here," he said finally. "Meet me in the east wing observatory tonight, after your last class.


    Come alone, and make sure you''re not followed."


    The urgency in the old librarian''s voice confirmed Zeke''s suspicions - whatever this "Court" was, it was dangerous enough to make even Adrian cautious.


    "I''ll be there," Zeke promised.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior, Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    </b>


    <b>[Court of Intrigue: Figure out what sort of Court that Constantine was talking about]</b>


    <b>


    [Guilty Conscience (Optional): Apologize to Diocletian. Or don''t]


    </b>


    <b>[Secret Meeting: Meet Adrian in the east wing observatory]</b>

 27. Depend On

    <b>[Scene Loading...]


    </b>


    <b>[Location: Leoncrest Castle - Tower 7]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: November 30, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    Winter''s first breath swept across Leoncrest Academy. The grounds transformed as autumn retreated - trees shed their colorful cloaks, morning frost painted the courtyards silver, and students hurried between buildings with collars turned up against the biting wind.


    Zeke bounded up the winding staircase of Tower 7, taking the steps two at a time despite the burning in his legs from that morning''s training session. Outside, wind howled around the stone towers, rattling the windows and promising snow before nightfall.


    "Perfect weather for Aura practice," he grinned to himself, pausing at a window to survey the Academy grounds far below.


    The view was spectacular - forest trees bending in the wind, their nearly bare branches swaying, while dark clouds gathered on the horizon. Leaves swirled through the air in crimson and gold spirals, creating what looked like tiny whirlwinds across the courtyard.


    His packed training schedule had barely given him time to appreciate the changing seasons. Victoria had moved her morning sword classes to an inner courtyard, competing with other outdoor activities for limited space.


    The cramped conditions hadn''t dampened his enthusiasm one bit - if anything, working in close quarters had improved his precision. His lunchtime weapons training continued without fail, and under Ingrid''s instruction, he''d become surprisingly proficient with a sling.


    "Never know when you''ll need to knock someone out from a hundred paces," she''d told him after he''d finally hit the bullseye three times in a row.


    He wasn''t a master of any particular weapon yet, but he could now pick up almost anything - mace, shield, bow, spear - and wield it with basic competence. Progress was progress, and Zeke was determined to keep pushing forward.


    Reaching Professor Harold''s door, he knocked firmly. The heavy oak swung open silently, revealing the austere office beyond.


    "Come in, come on," Professor Harold called from behind his desk, not bothering to look up from the stack of papers he was grading. "Are you ready for today''s lesson?"


    "Always ready," Zeke replied cheerfully, dropping into the chair across from his instructor. The door swung shut behind him with a soft click. "We''re working with liquids today, right?"


    "Yes, indeed." Professor Harold turned and pulled a cup from a shelf behind him, setting it carefully on the desk between them. He lifted his hand as if to begin, then paused, his expression shifting to something less academic and more... calculating.


    "Oh, by the way," he said in what seemed like a casual afterthought but was clearly rehearsed, "I thought you would want to know that your father came through. I just received word yesterday that all has come to pass as I knew it would.


    You''ve done House Hobbson a great favor."


    Zeke''s eyes narrowed slightly. "Regarding the Greenmeadow Province?"


    "Yes," Professor Harold nodded, a hint of satisfaction in his usually stern face. "You remember what I asked your father to do, correct?"


    "Direct the Senate''s attention to a series of hidden documents," Zeke confirmed, watching the professor carefully.


    "Precisely. Well, I received word some time ago that the injunction had been filed, and just yesterday, I learned the new documents had been located."


    A small smile played at the corners of his thin lips. "The Greenmeadow Province has now been transferred from House Minziar to House Hobbson. I''ve already drawn up a contract that should benefit House Godfrey, in gratitude for helping correct this gross injustice."


    So that had been the play all along. The "missing documents" hadn''t simply proven the province wasn''t Minziar''s - they''d conveniently shown it belonged to House Hobbson instead.


    Zeke might have been new to politics, but he wasn''t naive. This was how the game was played - favors traded, alliances formed, all wrapped in the language of "justice" and "rightful ownership."


    Rather than showing disappointment at being used as a pawn, Zeke grinned. One more powerful house in their corner was exactly what the Godfreys needed right now.


    "Glad I could help restore the proper order of things," he said with just enough sincerity to make it believable. "House Godfrey appreciates friends who know the value of historical accuracy."


    Something like respect flickered in the professor''s eyes. "And I am glad our houses have had this opportunity to grow closer. If House Godfrey truly is in ascension once again, I hope you''ll remember the friends who helped you get there."


    He raised an eyebrow, then turned back to the cup on his desk. "Now, let us get down to business. Do you know what this is?"


    Zeke leaned forward, studying the dark liquid. "Coffee?"


    "No," Professor Harold shook his head. "It is a liquid formed by grinding iron into an extremely fine powder, then mixing with water and a binding agent. It could technically be consumed without ill effects beyond an upset stomach, and is indeed used in medicine throughout the land."


    "Really?" Zeke''s curiosity was piqued. "What''s it for?"


    "The iron in the drink becomes absorbed into the blood," Professor Harold explained, warming to his subject. "Healing mages can then use the iron to focus their aura, allowing them to cast healing spells far more powerful than would otherwise be possible.


    The school of thought is relatively new but shows tremendous promise."


    His eyes took on an enthusiastic gleam rarely seen in his usually severe demeanor. "I''ve been on the cutting edge of this research since the possibility was first discovered. In fact, I was in my final years at the Academy when Professor Logan de''Faure first proposed it.


    I conducted my senior experiments on animals that had consumed the material. It has served as the foundation for much of my work here and continues to be the focus of my teaching and research."


    "That''s brilliant," Zeke said, genuinely fascinated. He leaned closer to examine the liquid. "I never realized aura could be channeled through the body like that."


    "You won''t find anything about it in Aura Theory until you reach level five," Professor Harold replied with a hint of pride. "The Headmistress doesn''t approve of teaching such recent developments.


    She believes traditions should be mastered before innovations are introduced." He waved his hand dismissively. "In any case, that''s not the point of today''s lesson."


    The professor raised his hand over the cup, and for a brief second, the air seemed to shimmer around his fingers. The liquid within began to quiver, then rose out of the cup and onto the desk, where it pooled briefly before rising upright to form a small humanoid figure.


    At first, the shape was rough and uneven, looking more like a hastily molded clay figure than a person. But as Professor Harold maintained his concentration, the features sharpened until a perfect miniature copy of the professor stood on the desk, looking up at Zeke with tiny liquid eyes.


    The figure bowed deeply, then leapt back into the cup, returning to its formless state.


    "Incredible!" Zeke exclaimed, eyes wide with appreciation. "How long did it take you to master that?"


    "Years of practice," Professor Harold replied, allowing himself a small smile. "You likely won''t see this again until you reach advanced Aura Theory - which, I''ll note, I do teach." He gestured toward the cup. "Now, try to infuse your aura into it. I''d like to see what you''re capable of."


    Zeke nodded eagerly, reaching out to touch the cup. He hadn''t yet mastered the ability to infuse objects without physical contact.


    Light flashed through the cup as his aura entered it, causing the vessel to rattle on the desk.


    "Come on..." he muttered, focusing his energy. The liquid inside jumped and swirled around... before bursting explosively out of the cup.


    The dark mixture sprayed across the room, splattering Zeke''s face and dousing several stacks of Professor Harold''s books.


    Zeke sat frozen in momentary horror before a laugh escaped him. "Well, that was dramatic!"


    Professor Harold''s lips twitched in what might almost have been amusement. "Believe it or not, I''ve seen far worse from people on their first attempt."


    He lifted a finger, and droplets rose from every surface they had struck, floating through the air to reform a single blob that settled back into the cup.


    "You obviously reached out to touch the cup," the professor observed, "which means you still require physical contact. Have you been able to master infusing your aura into a second-contact item? Can you infuse your aura into something that''s touching what you''re touching?"


    Zeke shook his head. "No, I haven''t practiced that yet."


    "Hmm." Professor Harold stroked his chin, considering. "While I cannot reveal the details of the next Trial... that may be a problem we need to address. I hadn''t considered it before. Still, working with this liquid may be the best way to prepare you."


    "You think so?" Zeke asked, already eager to try again.


    "If you can master this, you should be able to master doing it with solids," Professor Harold explained, folding his hands. His willingness to help had noticeably increased since Zeke had proven useful to House Hobbson.


    "Liquid is more difficult to control, making it excellent practice."


    Zeke threw himself into the task with enthusiasm. Second-contact infusion was incredibly difficult - he had to force his aura through the cup, then pass it into the liquid, then withdraw it from the cup while maintaining control of the liquid.


    It was a crucial stepping stone toward infusing objects without physical contact at all, a skill most professors used effortlessly to manipulate items around their classrooms.


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Alright," he murmured after several failed attempts, carefully channeling his aura from the cup into the liquid. "Let''s¡ª"


    FOOM! The liquid exploded upward, splattering across the ceiling.


    "One more go," he said, undeterred as Professor Harold reformed the liquid. This time, the surface quivered as his aura entered it. A few droplets bounced up, but the surface stayed relatively steady. "And¡ª"


    FOOM!


    "Come on, come on," he urged himself, trying again. This time, as his aura filled the liquid, the surface remained still. A smile spread across his face as he began to withdraw his energy from the cup.


    SPLAT!


    The liquid shot into the air, paused at the apex of its trajectory, then flew sideways to crash against the door. The thick mixture dripped down to the floor, forming a small puddle.


    "Sorry about that," Zeke said, though he was already looking forward to his next attempt.


    "Nothing to be sorry about," Professor Harold assured him, waving away the apology. "You''ve never had to do this before, and I''m starting you at the difficult end of the scale. Just keep at it."


    They continued practicing for another half hour. The professor''s office began to resemble a battlefield, with dark splatters marking the ceiling, walls, and floor despite Harold''s efforts to contain the mess.


    Finally, after what felt like his hundredth attempt, Zeke managed to transfer his aura fully into the liquid while withdrawing it completely from the cup. The liquid hovered, trembling slightly, for three precious seconds before exploding once again.


    "Yes!" Zeke punched the air triumphantly. Three seconds might not seem like much, but it was a breakthrough.


    "Excellent!" Professor Harold beamed, crossing his arms. "See? By the end of the week, you''ll be almost proficient. It''s no easy task, not by a long shot."


    Zeke stood, stretching his arms overhead to work out the stiffness from such intense concentration. "Thank you for the lesson."


    "No, thank you, de''Godfrey," the professor replied with unusual warmth. "You''ve proven there''s still good in House Godfrey, and I''m pleased to be your tutor in this matter."


    He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small scroll sealed with the emblem of House Hobbson - a crown above two crossed swords. "Here, take this, but don''t open it until you''re in your dorm room. Consider it a token of our appreciation."


    Zeke accepted the scroll with a bow of his head. "I look forward to more lessons."


    As he headed back to his dormitory, the scroll tucked safely in his jacket, Zeke found himself whistling despite his exhaustion. The windows were just beginning to open for the nightly gargoyle patrol as he slipped inside Tower 1 and bounded up the stairs to his room.


    Ralph was absent, likely visiting friends, which suited Zeke fine. He settled onto his bed and broke the wax seal on the scroll, unrolling it carefully.


    "To Zeke de''Godfrey, and by extension, the whole of House Godfrey," he read aloud to the empty room. "We wish to extend our heartfelt thanks for your assistance in the most recent matter of the Imperial Senate.


    It was done in good faith, and we wish to repay the kindness as best we can. For the time being, House Godfrey can consider House Hobbson a good ally in the Senate and upon the battlefield, in whatever matters may arise.


    If you ever need anything, please do not hesitate to call upon our services, and know that we will do likewise. To a long and fruitful partnership. Signed, Byron de''Hobbson, Patriarch of House Hobbson."


    Zeke''s jaw dropped as he read it a second time, then a third. They had just secured the alliance of House Hobbson! This was far more significant than he''d anticipated.


    Previously, their only reliable allies had been House Levayne and possibly House Arnette through Ralph. Now they had another powerful player in their corner.


    "Not bad for a kid who couldn''t even infuse a teacup properly," he chuckled to himself, carefully rolling the scroll back up.


    A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He quickly tucked the scroll into his desk drawer before calling, "Come in!"


    Victoria pushed the door open, her training clothes replaced by the more formal red and gold attire she favored during evening hours. "There you are. I''ve been looking everywhere."


    "Just finished Aura training with Professor Harold," Zeke explained, gesturing for her to enter. "What''s up?"


    "There''s a rumor going around about Diocletian," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "Apparently, someone trapped him in the library overnight last week. You wouldn''t happen to know anything about that, would you?"


    Zeke''s expression remained innocent. "He tried to stab me in a hidden study alcove. Seemed only fair he spend some quality time with the books."


    Victoria shook her head, though a smile tugged at her lips. "You''re lucky you didn''t get caught. Speaking of which, I thought you should know he''s been watching you during training. Standing in the shadows, taking notes."


    "Really?" Zeke''s eyebrows rose. "Guess I made an impression."


    "More like you made an enemy," Victoria corrected. "Be careful. His family might not be as powerful as yours, but they have connections. And after that library incident, his pride is wounded."


    "I''ll keep an eye out," Zeke promised. "Thanks for the warning."


    Victoria nodded, then gestured toward the training yard visible through his window. "By the way, I''ve arranged for us to use the covered pavilion tomorrow morning. We''ll have more space, and it''s protected from the wind."


    "You''re the best," Zeke grinned. "Need me to bring anything special?"


    "Just yourself and that unusual ability to keep getting back up no matter how many times I knock you down," she replied with a small smile. "Rest well. Tomorrow won''t be easy."


    After she left, Zeke flopped back on his bed, mind racing despite his physical exhaustion. So much had happened in just one day - progress with his aura training, confirmation of a new alliance with House Hobbson, and now the news that Diocletian was plotting something.


    The Third Trial was still nearly two months away, giving him plenty of time to prepare, but also plenty of time for his enemies to scheme.


    He sat up suddenly, remembering Adrian''s warning about the Court. With everything else happening, he''d nearly forgotten to meet the librarian as promised.


    Leaping to his feet, Zeke grabbed his sword belt and buckled it on. The gargoyles would be patrolling, but he''d learned a few ways to avoid them over the past months.


    Slipping out into the corridor, Zeke moved silently toward the narrow service stairs at the far end of the hallway. Most students never noticed them, hidden as they were behind a tapestry, but Ralph had shown him the secret passage during their first week.


    The stone steps were steep and narrow, designed for servants rather than nobles, but they connected all the major towers without passing through the main hallways where gargoyles prowled.


    The passage was pitch black, but Zeke had brought a small stone that Professor Harold had taught him to infuse with light-generating aura. It cast just enough of a glow to illuminate the steps immediately ahead without attracting attention.


    As he descended through the hidden stairwell, Zeke''s mind wandered to the mysterious Court that Constantine had warned him about. Whatever it was, it had cost the knight his life, which meant it was something powerful and dangerous.


    The fact that Adrian had been so cautious about discussing it only underscored its importance.


    When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Zeke pressed his ear against the hidden door, listening for the telltale sound of stone feet in the corridor beyond. Hearing nothing, he carefully pushed the panel open and slipped out behind a statue of some long-dead noble.


    The east wing observatory was located in a tower adjacent to the library, connected by a narrow covered bridge. During daylight hours, students used the glass-domed chamber for astronomical studies, but at night it was typically empty.


    Zeke made his way carefully through the shadowy hallways, freezing in place whenever he heard movement. Once, he had to press himself into an alcove as a gargoyle lumbered past, its stone head swiveling from side to side in search of rule-breakers.


    Only when its heavy footsteps had faded did he continue on his way.


    The observatory door was unlocked, as Adrian had promised. Zeke slipped inside, closing it silently behind him.


    The domed ceiling above was made entirely of glass panels, offering a spectacular view of the night sky. Stars glittered like diamonds on black velvet, and a half moon cast silvery light across the room''s circular floor.


    Adrian stood at the far side, gazing up at the stars through one of several brass telescopes positioned around the room. He turned as Zeke approached, his face grave in the moonlight.


    "You came," the old librarian said. "Good. We don''t have much time."


    "What is this Court that Constantine mentioned?" Zeke asked without preamble. "And why was he killed for telling me about it?"


    Adrian gestured toward a small table with two chairs. "Sit. This is not a simple explanation."


    Zeke took a seat, watching as Adrian pulled a small device from his pocket and placed it on the table. It looked like a child''s toy - a tiny silver bird with outstretched wings.


    "A detection charm," Adrian explained, noticing Zeke''s curious glance. "It will alert us if anyone approaches."


    He leaned forward, lowering his voice despite the precaution. "What I''m about to tell you is known to very few people at Leoncrest. Those who learn of it without permission tend to meet unfortunate ends."


    "Like Constantine," Zeke said grimly.


    "Precisely." Adrian nodded. "The Court he referred to is formally known as the Court of Owls, a secret society that has existed within the kingdom for centuries.


    Its members include some of the most powerful nobles, scholars, and military leaders - individuals who believe they should be the true rulers of the realm, operating from the shadows."


    Zeke frowned. "What do they want?"


    "Power, primarily," Adrian replied. "They manipulate events from behind the scenes, influencing succession, creating or resolving conflicts, all to further their own agenda.


    They''re patient and ruthless, willing to wait decades for their plans to come to fruition."


    "And they''re here at Leoncrest?"


    Adrian''s expression darkened. "Leoncrest is one of their primary recruitment grounds. They identify promising students with the right combination of talent and... flexibility of morals.


    Most initiates don''t even realize what they''re joining at first - they simply think they''ve been invited into an exclusive club for the elite."


    "Are you saying the Headmistress is involved?" Zeke asked, thinking of her reaction to Constantine''s death.


    "I can''t say with certainty," Adrian replied carefully. "But I believe so, yes. Her appointment was... unexpected. There were more qualified candidates, but they were passed over for reasons never fully explained."


    Zeke leaned back in his chair, processing this information. "What does this have to do with my brother? With House Godfrey?"


    Adrian hesitated. "Your brother was investigating them, though he didn''t know their true nature at first. He simply noticed strange patterns in how certain noble houses gained or lost power, how some military campaigns succeeded while others mysteriously failed despite having superior forces."


    "And they arranged his encounter with Socrax," Zeke concluded, the pieces falling into place. "It wasn''t an accident."


    "I believe so," Adrian nodded solemnly. "And now they''re watching you, especially since you began the Trials. Constantine recognized the danger and tried to warn you, but he wasn''t careful enough."


    "So what do I do?" Zeke asked. "If they''re as powerful as you say, how do I protect myself - protect my family?"


    "Knowledge is your first defense," Adrian replied. "Now that you know they exist, you can watch for their influence. Be careful who you trust.


    The Court recruits from all houses, so even traditional allies might be compromised."


    He reached into his robes and pulled out a small book bound in worn brown leather. "This journal contains what little information I''ve been able to safely gather about them over the years.


    Symbols they use, methods of communication, known recruitment tactics. Study it, but keep it hidden."


    Zeke accepted the book, tucking it inside his jacket. "Thank you."


    "There''s one more thing you should know," Adrian added, his voice dropping even lower. "The Third Trial. I believe it''s been specifically designed to test whether you might be... receptive to their approach."


    "They want to recruit me?" Zeke asked, surprised.


    "It''s possible," Adrian nodded. "A Godfrey would be a valuable addition to their ranks. If they can''t eliminate you, they may try to control you instead."


    The silver bird suddenly twitched on the table, its wings fluttering slightly.


    "Someone''s coming," Adrian whispered urgently. "Go, quickly. Use the service passage behind the star chart."


    Zeke rose, moving swiftly toward the indicated wall. Adrian''s hand on his arm stopped him briefly.


    "Be careful, Zeke. Trust no one completely - not even me. The Court has ways of compelling people to serve their interests."


    With that ominous warning, Adrian turned back to the telescope as if he''d been alone all evening. Zeke slipped behind the large star chart hanging on the wall, finding a narrow door hidden in the stone.


    He eased it open and disappeared inside just as the observatory door began to creak open.


    The service passage was pitch black, forcing Zeke to feel his way along the rough stone walls. His mind raced with everything Adrian had told him.


    A secret society operating within the kingdom''s highest circles, manipulating events, possibly responsible for his brother''s injury... and now watching him.


    By the time he made it back to his dormitory - slipping past a patrolling gargoyle by mere seconds - Zeke''s thoughts had settled into grim determination.


    If the Court of Owls was real, if they truly had targeted his family, then his duty was clear. He would continue the Trials, continue training, but with a new purpose beyond simply saving House Godfrey''s status.


    He would find out who in the Court had orchestrated his brother''s "accident" and ensure they paid for it. And if they thought they could recruit him in the process, they were gravely mistaken.


    As he lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, Zeke considered his growing collection of allies: Victoria and her combat expertise, Ingrid with her practical knowledge, Professor Harold and now House Hobbson''s political support, Adrian''s vast information network, and even Ralph''s genuine friendship.


    Against these, the shadowy Court of Owls didn''t seem quite so intimidating. Let them watch and scheme - he would be ready.


    His hand tightened around the small leather journal Adrian had given him.


    Tomorrow, he would start looking into it and try and learn everything he could about his hidden enemies.


    And the Court of Owls, for all their secrecy and power, had just become another challenge to conquer.


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior


    Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]


    </b>


    <b>[Court of Intrigue: </b>


    <b>Learn more about the Court of Owls]</b>


    <b>


    [Aura Mastery: Perfect second-contact infusion technique]</b>

 28. Winter Games

    <b>[Scene Loading...]</b>


    <b>


    [Location: Leoncrest Castle - Outer Courtyards]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: December 1, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    Frost crunched beneath Zeke''s boots as he jogged across the courtyard, his breath forming clouds in the frigid morning air. A bitter wind sliced through his training clothes, but he grinned as he pushed forward, keeping pace with the rest of Victoria''s early-morning training group.


    Around him, other students struggled against the cold, their faces pinched and miserable.


    "Keep moving!" Victoria called from the front of the pack, somehow managing to look perfectly comfortable despite the freezing temperature. "Cold is just another opponent to defeat!"


    Zeke picked up his pace, overtaking two shivering students. The wintery air burned his lungs, but he welcomed the challenge.


    Every obstacle conquered was one step closer to mastering the Trials. Besides, the bite of the cold kept him alert, his senses sharpened like the edge of a newly forged blade.


    The courtyard had transformed since autumn''s end. Frost glazed the stone paths, dead leaves skittered across the ground in the howling wind, and dark clouds hung low overhead, threatening snow before the day was through.


    The trees stood as bare sentinels along the castle walls, their skeletal branches clawing at the sky.


    "Alright!" Victoria shouted over the wind, turning to face the group. "Stop and duel!"


    Zeke skidded to a halt, spinning around to seek an opponent. The student next to him - a tall boy from House Byron who''d become something of a regular sparring partner - raised his sword with stiff, frozen fingers.


    Without hesitation, Zeke drew his own blade and struck.


    According to Victoria''s rules, they weren''t trying to disarm each other - just practicing how to transition from running to combat in challenging conditions. Their blades clashed with a satisfying ring that carried across the empty courtyard.


    Zeke parried a thrust, countered with a slash that was neatly blocked, then stepped back to avoid a sweeping blow. Despite the cold numbing his fingers, he maintained his grip, using the techniques Victoria had drilled into him over months of training.


    "That''s enough!" Victoria called after a few exchanges. "On the road again!"


    The group groaned collectively but turned and continued their run. Zeke shot his sparring partner a quick grin before picking up speed, his legs pumping as they rounded the corner of the East Tower.


    Though winter hadn''t officially arrived, the weather seemed eager for the change of seasons. The piercing wind cut right through his clothes, and a light drizzle had begun to fall, threatening to turn to sleet at any moment.


    Victoria led them on three complete laps around the Academy grounds, calling periodic halts for more brief sparring matches. By the final lap, even Zeke''s seemingly endless reserves of energy were flagging.


    His muscles burned, his lungs ached from the cold air, and his fingers had gone numb around the hilt of his sword.


    Yet when Victoria glanced back at the struggling group, her eyes briefly meeting his, Zeke straightened his posture and put on a burst of speed. He wasn''t going to be the one to show weakness - not when he had so much to prove.


    Finally, after what felt like an eternity of running, Victoria led them back up the front steps and into the entrance hall. The blessed warmth of the castle washed over them as they gathered in a semi-circle, panting and stamping their feet.


    "Good work!" Victoria declared, surveying her exhausted students with something like pride. "I''m impressed with each of you. None of you could have managed anything like this when we started months ago. You''re all making excellent progress."


    She clasped her hands behind her back. "Now, go get warmed up!"


    As the group began to disperse, she raised her hand. "Oh! One more thing. As you''re trying to get warm, do not just rush over to the fires - at least not right away. Go back to your dorm rooms and change into dry, warm clothing first, then come back down.


    Give your bodies a chance to warm gradually. Do it too quickly, and you''ll only kill yourselves. Or, at the least, lose a finger or two."


    The students grumbled but nodded and trudged off toward their respective dormitories. Zeke paused as he passed Victoria, overhearing her mutter to herself.


    "Well... so you technically won''t die yet, but the weather will get much colder, and I''d like to get everyone in the habit of warming up slowly now before it does become an issue."


    Zeke laughed, and Victoria glanced up, realizing he''d heard her talking to herself. She gave him a sheepish smile.


    "Good session today," he said, his voice still slightly breathless from exertion. "That last lap nearly did me in."


    "Yet somehow you managed to speed up at the end," Victoria observed with a raised eyebrow. "Impressive stamina."


    "Or just impressive stubbornness," Zeke grinned. "I''ve been told they''re often the same thing."


    Victoria shook her head, but there was warmth in her eyes. "Get changed before you freeze. I expect to see you at weapon practice at lunch?"


    "Wouldn''t miss it," Zeke promised before heading off.


    The idea of changing into dry clothes before his morning classes sounded sensible, but there was something else Zeke needed to take care of first. For days, he''d been turning over Adrian''s strange reaction to Constantine''s warning about "the Court."


    The old librarian clearly knew something - something he was reluctant to share.


    Rather than heading toward his dormitory tower, Zeke''s boots carried him in the direction of the library. His damp clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin, and his hair was plastered to his forehead from the combination of sweat and drizzle, but his curiosity outweighed his discomfort.


    The library doors stood open as always, welcoming students seeking knowledge or simply a warm place to study. Zeke stepped inside, relishing the warmth that immediately enveloped him.


    The familiar scent of old parchment, leather bindings, and beeswax candles filled his nostrils as his eyes adjusted to the softer light within.


    The vast room stretched before him, its arched ceiling soaring overhead. Morning light filtered through the high windows, casting gentle illumination across the rows upon rows of bookshelves.


    A handful of early-rising students were already settled at reading tables, poring over ancient tomes or scribbling notes.


    After a moment of searching, Zeke spotted Adrian near a side alcove, helping a group of first-year students select books from a high shelf. The old librarian had a patient smile on his face as he carefully handed down volumes to the eager young scholars.


    Zeke started in that direction, weaving between the tables. Adrian, perhaps sensing his approach, turned slightly to look over his shoulder.


    The moment their eyes met, Adrian''s smile froze on his face.


    In the space of a heartbeat, the librarian''s expression transformed from warm helpfulness to stony disapproval. His brow furrowed, and his arms crossed over his chest in a gesture that reminded Zeke of his father''s stance when delivering a lecture.


    Undeterred, Zeke approached with what he hoped was a disarming smile. "Morning, Adrian."


    "De''Godfrey," Adrian replied, his voice as cold as the winter air outside. "What a pleasant surprise. Is there a section of the library I can direct you to today?"


    The formal tone was so unlike Adrian''s usual friendly manner that Zeke momentarily faltered. "Did... did I do something wrong?"


    "Did something happen?" Adrian repeated, his eyebrows rising. "I don''t know... Oh, yes, something did happen. What happened was that a bookshelf was shoved in front of an alcove where an unconscious student was left overnight.


    I don''t have the faintest idea how that might have happened. Do you?"


    Understanding dawned, and Zeke winced. The Diocletian incident - he should have known it would get back to Adrian eventually.


    "In all fairness," Zeke said, keeping his voice low, "he tried to stab me."


    "And you thought that gave you the right to knock him unconscious and leave him trapped in the library overnight?" Adrian hissed, dismissing the students he''d been helping with a wave of his hand.


    "What''s the big deal?" Zeke asked, genuinely confused by the intensity of Adrian''s reaction. "He tried to kill me! I was just teaching him a lesson, nothing permanent."


    Adrian''s lips pressed into a thin white line. "You really don''t understand, do you?"


    "No, I don''t," Zeke admitted, spreading his hands.


    "The rules are in place for a reason," Adrian said, his voice softening slightly though his expression remained stern. "The curfew exists to keep students and faculty safe. The library is the most tightly secured place in the entire Academy due to what we keep here."


    He glanced around before continuing in a lowered voice. "Getting caught breaking curfew is never pleasant, but getting caught here? It could have ended his academic career.


    It could have ended his freedom. I''m not exaggerating - there have been students placed in life imprisonment for being in the library after hours. There are extremely dangerous texts here, and¡ª"


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "First off, I didn''t know any of that," Zeke interrupted, holding up one finger. "Second, I believe I keep trying to emphasize that he tried to kill me. That would have been the end of my freedom too.


    The end of my life altogether!"


    Adrian sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead with one hand. "Zeke, please don''t make me state it again. What you did was wrong, and you owe both myself and Diocletian an apology."


    His expression softened slightly. "And no, no one else knows about it, certainly not the Headmistress."


    "Well, that''s something," Zeke muttered, then nodded. "You''re right. I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to cause trouble - just wanted to get away from the guy with the knife."


    "Your apology is accepted," Adrian said, his face finally relaxing into something approaching his usual friendly demeanor.


    Zeke realized the old librarian had mostly been making a point - not that he wasn''t genuinely concerned, but that he''d always intended to forgive the transgression once Zeke understood its gravity.


    "Now, to the second matter," Adrian continued, his tone shifting back to normal. "House Godfrey is allied with House Hobbson now?"


    "Hey, you''re the one who wrote me the letter of recommendation to see Professor Harold," Zeke pointed out with a grin.


    "Yes, but I didn''t mean for you to ally with him!" Adrian shook his head in mock dismay, then sighed dramatically. "I suppose I''ll just have to challenge you to ceremonial combat."


    They shared a laugh, the tension between them dissipating. Adrian gestured toward a nearby reading table.


    "Sit down, sit down," he said, settling onto a wooden chair. "Forgive my reaction. House Levayne and House Hobbson have been at each other''s throats for generations.


    There was once a vast library in the main castle of House Levayne, but it was seized by the Senate over a technicality, and then House Hobbson somehow managed to acquire it. It''s been a sore point between our houses for a hundred years now."


    "I had no idea," Zeke said, genuinely surprised. "I''m sorry about that."


    "Oh, it''s nothing," Adrian waved his hand dismissively. "But as a loyal member of House Levayne, I couldn''t possibly let such a slight pass without comment."


    His eyes twinkled with humor. "Now, what can I do for you? You look like you have something on your mind."


    "I do," Zeke admitted, glancing around to ensure no one was within earshot. "It''s about the knight from my Second Trial. Did you know he was my brother''s old second-in-command?"


    "Constantine de''Minziar?" Adrian frowned, his playful manner vanishing. "No, I had no idea. He was likely chosen because they believed he would be especially hard on you.


    It certainly raises questions about the nature of your brother''s... accident."


    "That nature has been in question for a while now," Zeke said grimly.


    "Yes, but..." Adrian sighed, then shook his head. "Never mind. What about him?"


    "Did you know he''s dead?"


    Adrian''s jaw dropped, genuine shock written across his face. "Explain everything."


    Zeke quickly recounted what the Headmistress had told him about Constantine''s supposed "accident" on the bridge. When he finished, he leaned forward, lowering his voice further.


    "Before he died, during the Trial, he whispered something to me. He told me to ''beware the Court,'' but I have no idea what court that might be. Do you know what he could have meant?"


    The color drained from Adrian''s face so rapidly that Zeke feared the old man might faint. For a long moment, the librarian sat frozen, his fingers gripping the edge of the table with white-knuckled intensity.


    Then, just as suddenly, his expression cleared. He gave a small, dismissive shake of his head.


    "Beware the court? Probably just warning you that there are people in the Senate who want you dead. I can''t imagine it''s anything worse than that."


    "You''re lying," Zeke said bluntly, crossing his arms.


    "I am a librarian. Lying is beneath my code of conduct," Adrian replied with forced lightness, rising abruptly from his chair. "Now please, I am sorry, but I have work to do."


    Before Zeke could press further, Adrian swept off into the labyrinth of bookshelves, muttering to himself. The abrupt dismissal only confirmed Zeke''s suspicions - Adrian knew exactly what "the Court" referred to, and it frightened him enough to break his usual forthright manner.


    Never one to give up easily, Zeke stood and quietly moved to the next aisle of books, positioning himself behind where Adrian now stood. If the librarian wouldn''t tell him directly, perhaps he could glean something from the man''s worried mumblings.


    Carefully keeping out of sight, Zeke strained to hear Adrian''s whispered words through the gaps in the shelving.


    "The eight will rise... The ground will quake... The Court will... Fly, fly, from death."


    The fragments came in broken snatches, too disjointed to form a complete picture. After several minutes of this fruitless eavesdropping, Zeke gave up and quietly retreated toward the library entrance.


    Whatever Adrian knew about this mysterious "Court," he wasn''t going to share it willingly. But as Zeke stepped back into the castle corridor, an idea sparked in his mind.


    If Adrian wouldn''t help, perhaps someone else would.


    By the time Zeke reached Tower 2, he''d finally begun to feel the effects of his prolonged stay in damp clothes. A chill had settled into his bones, and his teeth chattered slightly as he climbed the stairs to the female dormitories.


    The stairwell buzzed with activity, groups of girls chatting and laughing together as they headed to classes or study sessions.


    It was strikingly different from the male dormitories, where interactions tended to be limited to brief nods or occasional sparring challenges. Here, students sat on the stairs in small clusters, sharing stories and secrets, braiding each other''s hair, or reviewing notes together.


    Zeke had never visited Elise''s room before, but he knew approximately where it was located from previous conversations. Following the numbered doors along the corridor, he soon found the right one and knocked firmly.


    The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Elise''s surprised but delighted face.


    "Zeke!" she exclaimed, eyes widening as she took in his bedraggled appearance. "Come in, come in! You look half-frozen."


    She pulled him inside, closing the door behind him. The room was noticeably warmer than the corridor, with a small charcoal brazier glowing in the corner.


    "My roommate''s gone for the morning," Elise explained, gesturing to the empty bed on the other side of the room. "She''s off studying in Tower 5. What brings you here? And why haven''t you changed out of your wet clothes?"


    Zeke glanced around, taking in the cozy space. Unlike the spartan functionality of his own dormitory, Elise''s room was thoughtfully decorated.


    Dried flowers hung in small bunches from the ceiling beams, hand-painted landscape scenes adorned the walls, and colorful woven rugs covered portions of the stone floor. Several small vases held winter greenery, adding life to the space despite the season.


    "I got distracted," Zeke admitted, accepting the woolen blanket Elise thrust into his hands. He draped it around his shoulders gratefully. "And then I needed to talk to you about something important."


    "Must be important if it couldn''t wait until you were dry," Elise observed, settling cross-legged on her bed. "What''s going on?"


    "I overheard something today that might connect to everything that''s been happening," Zeke explained, sitting in the chair at her writing desk. "Something strange."


    "I''m listening."


    Zeke recounted his conversation with Adrian and the cryptic fragments he''d overheard afterward. As he spoke, Elise''s expression grew increasingly focused, her brow furrowing in concentration.


    "''The eight will rise... The ground will quake... The Court will... Fly, fly, from death,''" she repeated when he finished. "That definitely sounds like a prophecy fragment."


    "That''s what I thought too," Zeke nodded eagerly. "''The eight will rise'' - that has to refer to the Eight Dragons of Calamity from the old legends, right?"


    "Almost certainly," Elise agreed, her eyes lighting up with scholarly excitement. "And ''the ground will quake'' would fit with dragons awakening. But this ''Court'' reference - that''s interesting.


    It must be the same Court that Constantine warned you about."


    "Exactly!" Zeke leaned forward. "Adrian clearly knows what it means, but he won''t tell me. I was hoping you might have come across it in your studies."


    "Not specifically," Elise admitted. "Though there are many different ''courts'' in Athian history - the Royal Court, the Court of Justices, various noble courts..."


    She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "But none that would provoke such a strong reaction from Adrian."


    "Could you help me look into it?" Zeke asked. "Adrian definitely knows more than he''s saying, but he clammed up the moment I mentioned it."


    "Of course I''ll help," Elise said without hesitation. "But we need to be careful. If this is connected to your brother''s accident and Constantine''s death, it could be dangerous."


    She paused, her expression turning thoughtful. "Do you think we could wait until after the Winter Festival?"


    "Why wait?" Zeke frowned, restless energy making him bounce his leg unconsciously.


    "Because I have a class - Theory of Magic - that will be doing a unit on prophecies after the Winter Festival," she explained. "It''s an introduction to higher-level classes on divination and prophecy interpretation.


    Once I start that unit, I can ask Adrian to help me find all the prophecy-related books in the library without raising suspicion. And, maybe, he''ll have forgotten about your questions by then."


    Zeke considered this, fighting his natural impulse to charge ahead immediately. "That''s actually pretty clever," he admitted. "A lot more subtle than my usual approach."


    "Which is?"


    "Kick down the door and see what happens," Zeke grinned.


    Elise laughed. "Sometimes that works too, but not when we''re dealing with ancient prophecies and mysterious courts that might be responsible for attempted murder."


    "Fair point," Zeke conceded. "Alright, I can wait until after the festival. Just don''t forget, okay?"


    "I never forget anything," Elise declared, hopping up from her bed. She walked to a small writing desk and picked up a leather-bound notebook, quickly scribbling something inside. "Or rather, my planner never forgets anything."


    "Perfect," Zeke said, rising to his feet and reluctantly removing the warm blanket. "I should probably go change before my next class. Thanks for listening."


    "You don''t have to leave just because you got what you came for," Elise said, a hint of shyness creeping into her voice. "I have some studying to do, but that can wait.


    I have a few board games we could play, and... I don''t know. Might be fun."


    A spark of joy ignited in Zeke''s chest at the invitation. Between training, classes, and investigating mysterious threats, he''d had precious little time for simple enjoyment lately.


    "I''d like that," he said with a genuine smile. "I have studying to do too, but as you said, it can wait."


    "Great!" Elise''s face brightened as she moved to a small chest beside her bed. After rummaging through it for a moment, she emerged with a wooden chess set. "We can play here at the desk. You know chess, right?"


    "Of course," Zeke laughed. "Who doesn''t? I won''t claim to be good, but I know how the pieces move."


    "Well, have you ever played Farmer''s Chess?" Elise asked, setting up the board between them.


    Zeke shook his head. "No, what''s that?"


    "It''s similar to regular chess, but it substitutes two of the pawns for Farmers," she explained, replacing two pawns on each side with slightly different carved pieces.


    "Farmers move differently - they can go forward one space like pawns, but they can also move diagonally forward without capturing, or directly sideways one space."


    "Sounds complicated," Zeke observed, studying the board with interest.


    "It adds some strategy," Elise replied. "In our village, the farmers were always the most valuable pieces because of their flexibility. My father used to say it reflected real life - peasants adapt while nobles stick to their rigid patterns."


    She blushed slightly. "Sorry, I didn''t mean¡ª"


    "No, he was probably right," Zeke laughed. "Look how long it took me to figure out how to do my own laundry."


    As Elise explained the rest of the rules, Zeke felt the lingering chill from his morning training finally leaving his bones. The room was warm, the company enjoyable, and for a moment, the looming threats of Trials and mysterious Courts seemed distant.


    They played their first game slowly, with Elise patiently reminding Zeke of the special Farmer moves whenever he forgot. Despite her guidance, she soundly defeated him in less than twenty moves.


    "Another round?" she asked, already resetting the board.


    "Definitely," Zeke nodded, determined to do better. "I think I''m getting the hang of it now."


    The second game lasted considerably longer. Zeke paid careful attention to the Farmers, using their unusual movement patterns to disrupt Elise''s strategy.


    He managed to capture her queen early, leading to a much more competitive match.


    "Check," he declared triumphantly after maneuvering a knight into position.


    Elise studied the board with narrowed eyes, then moved her king to safety. "Not bad. You learn quickly."


    "I had a good teacher," Zeke replied, planning his next move.


    Three moves later, Elise smiled sweetly and said, "Checkmate."


    Zeke stared at the board in disbelief, trying to see how she''d trapped him so effectively. "How did you¡ªI thought I was winning!"


    "That''s the beauty of Farmer''s Chess," Elise explained, pointing to one of the special pieces that had quietly moved into a powerful position while he focused on his knights and bishops.


    "The pieces that seem least important often decide the game."


    "Just like real life again," Zeke observed, leaning back in his chair. "The overlooked ones end up making all the difference."


    Their third game was interrupted by the distant tolling of bells announcing the next class period.


    "I should really go change now," Zeke said reluctantly, rising from his chair. "Professor Harkin will have my head if I show up to History in wet clothes again."


    "Again?" Elise raised an eyebrow.


    "Long story involving a fountain and a bet with Ralph," Zeke grinned. "I''ll tell you sometime."


    As he headed toward the door, Elise called after him, "Same time next week? For chess, I mean."


    "It''s a date," Zeke replied without thinking, then felt his cheeks warm. "I mean¡ª"


    "I know what you meant," Elise said, her own cheeks slightly pink. "Go on, before you''re late."


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior, Endurance</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]</b>


    <b>


    [Strategic Move: Beat Elise in Chess]


    </b>


    <b>[Winter Prophecy: Investigate the mysterious Court after the Winter Festival]</b>