Drahan finished the morning vow, pledging his allegiance to the cabal, sitting on the floor, facing north. As always, it irritated him that his room sat askew, with north not being a flat face of the wall, nor directly into a corner, but rather something sloppy in between. When he first arrived in this room as a child it felt enormous, but eleven years and a growth spurt had since dimmed that feeling.

He unfolded himself, standing up and stretching. Next, he shaved his head to the scalp, spending more time than was probably necessary to shave the six fledgling beard hairs, hoping to find more than the day previously.

Dull, grey robe, check. Bald, plain face, check. Sick of the same hairstyle and clothing, check. It was time for the first lessons of the day.

He exited his room as Carn did the same, two doors down.

“G’mornin” Drahan said, in his best attempt at a southern accent, though he’d never been anywhere south.

Carn returned the effort “Ya sleep well, eh matey?”

Drahan smiled, “Given how many years we’ve lived together, you’d think we’d come up with some fresh jokes.”

Carn’s face softened, “Not long left, though. I’m nervous as anything.”

“Don’t worry about it, we’re both squarely in the top half of the class. Rules are rules, top half joins the cabal, bottom half scrub floors or spread cow shit over fields, or something.”

“I hope you’re right.”

They made their way down the corridor, descending the steps to the courtyard. The Cabal School wasn’t much of a school, it was a squat stone building in the outer sections of the city. Inside, it housed nine boys, each chosen at just five years from across the continent. It was a great honour to be chosen, Drahan’s parents had been incredibly proud, or so Drahan was told, he was only five at the time, after all, couldn’t remember much of anything.

Sunlight poured into the courtyard, most of the others were chatting amiably, almost looking normal, if it wasn’t for the bald heads and dull robes. Drahan and Carn joined two classmates, Grean and Scaith, both nearer the bottom half of the class in the current ranking, and it showed. Scaith in particular looked extremely nervous, Drahan couldn’t blame him, he’d rather run away and join the city’s underground than spread cow shit.

The courtyard was one of Drahan’s favourite parts of the school, the rest felt pokey and claustrophobic, while the courtyard was spacious and open to the sky above. The building was ancient, moss coating the rough stone in any place it could gain hold, the stone floor was worn and smooth, with gentle depressions in areas with more foot traffic, evidence of decades of use, Drahan assumed.

A wooden rod rapped the stone, Scaith jumped.

A cold, monotone rung through the courtyard, “Form rank.”

The youths did so, standing in a line. Each had been allocated a numbered room on their first day in the school, Drahan’s was thirteen, while the highest was Brin in room twenty. The majority of rooms sat empty, three boys had been removed over the years for disciplinary issues, while the remaining eight had fallen ill at different times, too unwell to continue their training. Once a pupil was removed from the school, Drahan never saw them again. It was a very isolated existence inside the stone building, with excursions few and far between.

Tor continued his usual routine, walking slowly up the line, criticising the youths for this or that, today Drahan counted one instance of a sloppy shave, two crinkled robes, and four not standing straight enough. Seven criticisms, almost a high score.

Fortunately, Tor had nothing to say of Drahan this morning. But that didn’t stop him from eyeing Drahan from top to bottom with a dissatisfied look, dark eyes uncaring, face wrinkled in all the grumpy places.

The monotone continued. “As you all know, this is a testing week, your last. The testing order will be arithmetic, geometry, grammar, logic, and finally, politics. As always, physical achievement will be tested throughout the week alongside the academic subjects. In between the academic and physical tests you may study or practice whichever of the subjects you please. Do we all understand?”

“Yes, Tor” the youths called.

“Good. You have one hour before -”

“Um, Tor?” Scaith said softly.

“Speak up, Scaith.” Tor jabbed his rod toward Scaith. He used to call them by their names, but in the past year had begun calling them by their room numbers.

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“Can you explain how we, or, I mean, how you use these final test results? What happens next?”

“As I have explained repeatedly, the higher you score, the higher the likelihood you ascend into the ranks of the cabal. That is all I will say on that matter.”

“But, the top half goes through ri -” Teith questioned from down the far end of the line.

“Enough,” Tor shouted, rapping his rod. “I have said all there is to say on the matter, I suggest you simply focus on achieving the best results you each can. Arithmetic will be tested in one hour.” With that, he turned and strode off towards the innards of the building. It was remarkable he didn’t like even one of the youths after eleven years. Drahan had seen moments of softness in the man, particularly when they were younger, but they were rare these days.

“I wouldn’t bother trying, Scaith. You’ve been destined to scrub floors since the day your mother had the misfortune of welcoming you into this world.” Brin said, accosting Scaith. Brin scored the highest in the most recent testing, ten weeks ago, and ever since he’d become even more insufferable than usual.

“Piss off, Brin.” Drahan chimed in, approaching the group. “You’ve got the most to lose.”

Brin’s sneer darkened to a scowl, he pushed past Scaith towards Drahan. “Says you, you’re not far off halfway. I hope they find something worse than scrubbing floors when you’re thrown out. Perhaps they’ll set dogs on you for sport.”

“Yes, I’m sure they spent eleven years training me in mathematics so I taste smart when they feed me to an animal.” Drahan said sarcastically, rolling his eyes and walking away from Brin, with Scaith in tow.

“Thanks, Drahan,” Scaith said appreciatively. “I’m going to go cram for the test.”

Drahan decided it was best he do the same. Brin wasn’t wrong, Drahan’s position as third out of nine was too close to halfway. He had ranked first a couple of times, but that was a few years ago. They used to all be more similar physically, practically looking like brothers, but some, including Brin, had begun to fill out and grow, giving them an advantage in the physical tests, which counted for half of your final score. Drahan hadn’t scored lower than fourth in a year, but Tor was always vague and unhelpful about the cabal ascension process, so he didn’t want to assume he was safe.

The hour passed quickly. Arithmetic was one of Drahan’s stronger subjects, so he felt relatively relaxed, though he was still on edge about the rest of the week. At the end of this week, his life would begin anew. For the first time in eleven years something would actually change. A new house, a new room, new people, new sights, he craved some change, but he was still worried. He cast the mix of excitement and worry out of his mind as he entered the hall to conduct the test.

He was relieved that the format of the test was unchanged, many of the group worried the final test week would overhaul the structure they had gotten used to over the years. He left the hall feeling confident, he almost always scored in the top two in arithmetic. He spent some time working on the other subjects, before heading to the hall for lunch. Grean and Carn both felt okay about arithmetic, but Scaith was rattled.

“You’ve scored in the top half most test weeks, don’t let the last one throw you off.” Carn tried to reassure Scaith.

“I’m trying not to but I am freaking out.”

“Just focus on the next subject, not the whole week or the fact it’s the last. Test by test. You’ll be sweet.” Drahan said.

Scaith just sat there with his head in his hands, staring down at his meal. Drahan was worried for him, if he kept like this he would spiral throughout the week and only get worse. A small, selfish part of him was glad for this spiraling, as it would make it easier for Drahan to make it through. But that small part of him was clearly an asshole.

After the meal, they split up once more to study before returning to the courtyard to begin the first physical test. The physical tests tended to be relatively basic, likely owing to the limited space the building afforded them. Today was endurance, focused on holding forms for the longest and running the greatest amount of circuits. With the physical tests, you could see where you ranked straight away, which was nice. Drahan came fifth, an okay result given he tended to do better in the academic tests.

After another meal, Tor provided the results of the day, marked on a board at the head of the hall. Drahan always suspected they provided the scores as the week progressed to test the mental strength of the group. It was no easy feat to see yourself at the bottom and continue performing at your best. Normally there would be cheering and banter following the scoring, but today there was nothing. Even Brin seemed sombre despite being in first place with a third in both the morning and afternoon. Drahan was second overall with a second and a fifth. Carn was third, Grean was fifth, and Scaith was tied last. Scaith had gone a ghostly white, head in his hands.

The other youths were similarly quiet and distant on the way to their rooms when Tor dismissed them. Drahan and Carn attempted to offer words of encouragement to Scaith but he said he just needed sleep.

Drahan was feeling good, but with his weakest subject, politics, being the last of the week, he had to score well in the first half to end up with a strong placing. He was thinking through the different tests and deciding what subjects to devote more time to and drew up a rough plan for the week. The physical tests, hand-to-hand combat excluded, didn’t test skill so much as raw ability, and so luckily do not require much practice, allowing him to focus on the four remaining academic tests.

With an adequate plan drafted, he got into bed, getting enough sleep would be just as important as anything else during a testing week. Then yelling started from the floor below, it sounded like three or four people shouting and struggling. He jumped out of bed and tried to open his door, locked from the outside as always. So he resorted to putting an ear to the floorboards. The struggle quietened, and he could barely make out the voices. A few minutes later there was only silence. This reminded him of when Dhir was taken last year, he apparently tried to steal a sword from one of the school guards and was thrown out. At the time, Tor, nor any of the guards said a word about it, they simply acted as if Dhir never attended the school. The empty room, fourteen, the one opposite Drahan’s, was the only proof he had ever existed.