The house is bustling in excitement on the day of the exam. Rather than cramming during the last sunrise in hopes of learning one more spell I let myself sleep in before going down to a hearty meal. The servants have prepared my favourite breakfast: A thick sweet bread wrapped around berries and whipped cream, a fillet of smoked salmon, and a side of parsnips sautéed in olive oil with salt, garlic and rosemary.

Several of the servants wish me luck, for which I awkwardly thank them– having forgotten their names.

Having eaten, Alan and I ride in the carriage to the section of the city that holds the academy. It’s only one section away from the imperial palace in the exact centre of the city, so we have to travel through two gates to reach it.

The streets grow more and more crowded as we go, with dozens of youths my age making their way to the site. Eager and anxious expressions openly displayed on their faces. Other carriages like ours add to the traffic, and the bottlenecks of the section gates– wide as they are– only slow things down.

“I don’t really understand why the sword tournament is held in the city,” I say. “Given how many people are participating at once, wouldn't it make more sense to hold it at the rural facilities like with the archery and divination games?”

“Yes,” says Alan, “but the sword fighting and magic demonstrations are the most popular events, and they can sell more tickets by holding it in the city. They even managed to get the building subsidized by the crown by arguing it improves public happiness. Besides, it makes sense for it to be in a central location so that they don’t have to leave and come back to the city each day. Most of them don’t have carriages.”

I nod, realizing he’s making sense, and it was somewhat obvious. I guess I’m just making what the old members of the cell chastised as nervous chatter.

Alan examines my face as I stare out the window. “… I was going to give you this after you passed, but I guess it’ll serve as a good luck token.” He pulls out a small cloth wrapped object from inside the seat which he hands me.

I unwrap the object to reveal a blue, flat, palm sized, crystalline hexagon with faint magic symbols etched on the back. “What is it?” I ask.

“It’s an image storage/ retrieval item that’s compatible with the ones the academy uses. I hear they’re quite popular with the students. There are a number of room-sized items at the various academy sites that store information similar to a communication nexus, but without the communication function. The teachers supposedly use them to distribute assignments. The disk I gave you can transfer images from them by bringing it into physical contact. You can also view the images on it, but I’m told the image quality on the portable items is terrible for anything other than short text.”

“I see,” I say, “I suppose it will be useful for the mission.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not giving it to you to help with the mission, I’m giving it to you to help you make friends. There’s an added feature in which you can break a piece off from it and it will grow back. If you give someone a piece, and they give you one of theirs, you can use them as a ‘key’ to leave messages on the school nexus that can only be seen if you have the correct combination of disk and piece. I hear it’s very popular to gossip this way and set up meetings.”

“Couldn’t you just write a letter?”

He shrugs. “Apparently the experience is more exciting. Moreover, you can leave messages accessible by more than one person. Though this is all hearsay since they didn’t have them when I attended.”

“Right… well if it helps expand my contacts then it’ll be useful.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not getting it. It’s a gift. I only want you to use it for enjoyment. Making friends. I’m told just having one will make you more popular.”

“By the person who sold you it, no doubt.”

“Well, they certainly never met you.”

“…”

It’s odd. I don’t think I’ve ever received a gift that was supposedly ‘just for my enjoyment’ and not for a shared benefit or transaction before. Certainly, Lindrid gave me more than I was expecting, but no more than what a title would be worth if he succeeded, and he wouldn’t need it if he failed anyways. Alan did buy me the clothes, arranged for the magic shop and fed and housed me this whole time, but that was clearly for the mission for which he seems strangely committed.

…Thinking back, some of the cell members would give me an extra portion of their rations sometimes. I always was annoyed because I assumed they thought I was weak and needed the extra nourishment to not slow them down, but their faces were like the one Alan had when he gave me the disk, though he seems a bit disappointed now. If what he says is true, maybe they weren’t thinking about the mission either.

“…Thanks,” I say, and his face brightens, “it’s a good gift. I’ll try to make friends with it. Not just contacts.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He smiles, causing me to shy my gaze away.

“Also, I suppose I should thank you for paying for the merchant lord’s boons. I had enough for it, but since I’m being grateful and all.”

He shrugs. “Again, you don’t have enough. I don’t want you buying anything until you have a few large gold to spare.”

“I thought the buffer was one.”

“That was for me. You need more.”

“Because of my higher station?”

“Because you’re bad with money.”

Not being able to refute this I change the subject. “The traffic is getting worse. It may be faster if I walk at this point.”

He nods. “You might be right. We don’t want you to be late. Just follow every other youth until you see the arena. You can’t miss it. There should be attendants who will tell you where to go. Since I gave you the disk already you can show it to them and they might be able to put useful information on it. I’ll be in the stands cheering you on.”

“… I’ll be able to see if you’re there with the bird boon you know. So, you can’t skip out for an impromptu rendezvous.”

“Of course not. I’ll have my rendezvous in the open where you can see it.”

I sigh and get out of the carriage while it’s still slowly rolling along.

I make my way with the crowd of youths around me towards the first test. My competitors seem happy. They’re mostly in groups, often giddy, skipping around and laughing. I don’t know if they’re confident or just don’t care about the outcome– viewing the test as something fun to do without really thinking they’ll succeed. A very different mood from the youths in the section we started out from.

“Hey, are you a noble?” a well-dressed feckless freckled youth in green asks me.

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“As are you, are you not?” I say.

“Yes, of course… Hey, are you really fourteen? You’re even smaller than me.”

I nod, noting how he’s quite small for our age, though bigger than me.

“You must have just turned… Hey… you must be nervous being out with all these commoners. I bet you’ve never been away from home on your own before. Why don’t I keep you company since you’re so small.”

It’s hard not to laugh at how obvious it is that he’s the nervous one, though I can see the act working on another sheltered youth. Alan did say it’s polite not to point out one’s ‘projections’ as he called it. So, I do what etiquette demands and say, “If you would be so kind.”

He looks at me funny, which makes me think I failed to erase my mocking tone, but he quickly smiles and puffs up his chest. “Of course, follow me, I’ll lead us!”

“…A moment. We should make sure we’re going to the same place. You are going to the arena for the sword tournament, right?”

“Of course.” He beams. “I’m a page. My mom’s a famous knight and trained me herself. She said I can more than handle any muggers and I should make my way on my own.”

“… I see.” I say, resisting commenting on how he’s only a page while others his age are squires. “Then I shall be in your care. My name is Malichi Monhal.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Preston Calhal. I’ve never heard of the Monhal family before.”

“We’re from the western edge of the empire. I’m presently staying with my older cousin for the exam– Alan Linhal.”

“The lecher?!”

“…Yes.”

“Father always told me not to associate myself with him. Says he’s a disgrace.”

I sigh. “I understand. I will continue on my own without taking offence.” I speed up and quickly leave him behind, not too disappointed at the opportunity to be rid of him.

“…What, wait, don’t leave me!” He shouts, rushing after me. I smile as I wait turned away from him, but school my face as he approaches. “Er, um, I mean. There’s no reason for you to suffer for your relative’s reputation. I’m more than willing to, um, keep you in my company. You’re putting up a brave face, and that’s respectable, but I know you’re nervous with all these peasants. It would be uncivil for me to abandon you now.”

“I certainly wouldn’t want to impugn your civility,” I say, changing my pace to match his.

We walk for several minutes: me in silence, him chattering away about how great his parents are. His mother is a knight, who, now that I think about it, I have heard of. She was active in Caethlon for the first couple of years. She made a name for herself in the initial conquest but wasn’t very good at hunting insurgents and so was recalled. She still earned some minor lands for her earlier achievements though, which is what Preston focuses on– cursing the cowardly rebels for any failures. Though to be fair, difficulty adjusting to the partisan fighting was common.

His father on the other hand is a mundane poet (a poet lacking magic that is, not an unskilled one). He has some fame for his work, but I get the sense that his admonition to avoid Alan is about jealousy despite working in different mediums. There is also the possibility that Alan had an affair with the mother, given the focus on the sexual immorality, though I would expect a poet to not be so uptight about such things.

I get the sense that he takes more after his father but hangs off his mother’s every word. Since he doesn’t mention what his father thinks about him, but beams when reciting some faint compliment given by his mother. Such as saying he could handle any mugger when handling muggers is a very low bar for any magically empowered person no matter the age. However, I keep these thoughts to myself.

Surprisingly, he’s not annoying. Rather his tedious chatter has a calming effect– the sheer banality of it easing my nerves.

We round a corner and stop dead as we spot the arena. It’s breathtaking. A massive circular structure comprised largely of columns.

“Have you never seen it before?” Preston asks, and I shake no. “I’ve been in it lots to watch mother fight duels. She always won, of course… Well except that one time, but she could hardly be expected to win against…”

“Hey! It’s the runt!” Preston freezes as a harsh voice calls from ahead. “You didn’t get scared and run away after all! You cost me a bet, you runt! And what’s this, you’ve found someone even smaller than you!” The voice bursts into laughter.

I turn to regard the source of derision. A tall wiry girl with lean muscles.

I nod in polite greeting. “It’s as you say. He has shown up, and I am quite small. Though I find it odd that would be a point of mockery since a small size can be advantageous with enhanced strength.”

“Perhaps if he had enhanced strength!” The girl sneers. “But little Preston has hardly boosted his strength at all! He’s a disgrace to his mother’s legacy!”

I nod, acknowledging the point. Presumably the girl is a squire, and so is more adept at judging proficiency than me. I glance at Preston who is pale and quivering.

The girl sneers again. “I hope we get matched up Preston. I’ll show you what real sword fighting is all about. I’ll beat you until you beg to quit the test.”

“…As you say,” I say softly. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Malichi Monhal. I’m presently staying with my cousin Alan Linhal. Pleased to meet you.”

“Linhal…? The coward knight!? The one who wouldn't let his opponents wear armour and refused to duel in years?”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t know. That’s not my path. I’m just a mage dabbling with this sword stuff. Thought I’d see how things go. Are you going to introduce yourself?”

She stammers, seeming not to know how to respond to my calm dismissal of her verbal aggression. “Claudia Panihal the third. Daughter of count Claudia Panihal the second.” She grits her teeth as she speaks.

“Pleased to meet you. Now, pardon me but I don’t wish to be late,” I say as I walk past her and queue for sign in– Preston nervously stumbling behind me with Claudia having apparently already been processed.

Preston is silent as we wait, which I find strangely irritating. Like a beaten dog, wanting attention but not brave enough to ask for it– just happy to be in your undemanding presence.

“Malichi Monhal.” I say to the woman behind the desk while handing her the disk.

“Very good noble Monhal. You’re signed in. Just go to the area shown on the disk.” She says after touching the disk to hers and handing it back.

“One more thing.” I say. “I witnessed a threat of violence made by a Claudia Panihal against the person of one Preston Calhal. She made the statement that she hoped they would meet in the tournament so she could ‘beat him into quitting,’ which is explicitly against the rules.”

“And Calahl is?”

“The nervous wreck behind me? Yes.”

“And what is your relationship to these individuals?”

“I just met them today on the way here.”

“I see. It’ll be reported, thank you.”

“What will happen?” I ask.

“One of the officials will talk with Calhal. If they agree with your assessment the two will be matched up for the first round with Calhal being declared the winner by default.”

“She won’t be completely disqualified?” I ask.

“Not unless she also made threats against you too. Did she?”

I shake my head. “She was aggressive, but no overt threats were made. Sadly, if saying yes would get me points.”

“Then thank you for your prompt reporting of this. I’ll mark it down that you shouldn’t be paired up with Claudia either. Now, will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you for your help,” I say and walk off.

After about a minute of walking into the enormous building a cry calls out behind me. “Wait up!” I turn to see Preston running after me. He doesn’t pause to catch his breath so I suppose his stamina must at least be decent. “Why would you do that for me? I needed to face her myself, didn’t I? It’s the path of a knight.”

I look at him dumbfounded. “Why would you assume I reported her for your sake?”

He blinks in confusion. “You didn’t?”

“No.” I nearly laugh. “She insulted my relative, remember? Besides, if she was looking down on a page then I assume she’s a squire. By reporting her I eliminated a skilled competitor from my possible opponents.”

“… But, defeating an opponent indirectly is dishonourable.”

“For a knight, maybe, but I’m not on the knight’s path– why would I care about its sense of honour? Just because my opponent does?”

“You cared about your relative’s knightly honour though.”

“That was his, this is mine.”

“Yeah, but I called him a lecher. Are you going to eliminate me for insulting him too?” His tone is so annoyingly condemning.

I do laugh now. “That’s not an insult, it’s just what he is.”

“And he wasn’t a coward for not letting his opponents wear armour?”

I shrug. “My understanding is that he didn’t have any either. Besides, you make it seem like they had no choice.”

“They wouldn’t have if he insulted their honour. They would have had to demand a duel and accept any conditions he set down as the challenged.”

“Any fair conditions,” I correct. “They wouldn’t be compelled to duel if Alan, say, demanded they fight with both hands tied behind their back while his were free.”

“…I suppose, but the no armour rule was clearly favourable to him.”

“Doesn’t matter. The rule that lets the challenged set the conditions is fair. Otherwise, if Alan truly was advantaged by the no armour rule he could go around challenging anyone he wanted with little impunity. Instead, we have a system that discourages frivolous duels, which is better. Alan won by using the rules, as did I.”

Preston is flustered, but cannot find words to refute this. “…It’s just not… how knights should act though.”

I shrug. “Maybe, but then again I wouldn’t know about that, being a mage and all… Anyways, I’m being sent to this gathering location. You?” I ask, displaying the map the woman put in the disk.

“…Opposite side,” he says.

“Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Preston Calhal. Perhaps we’ll meet again during the exam.” I wait until he makes the courteous reply and leave him in the hallways.