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Chapter 3
He was a boy, no older than Ezabel. Tender on his bearing was the same quality of innocence that she so often had. He perked up and approached with equal parts excitement and tension. His name was called first from a long list that dangled between Leonora’s gloves. The courtyard and all its inhabitants bore witness to his first steps.
Isaiya Wenbell - He was short for his age; and his features seemed quite foreign. His skin was tanner than most around. Certainly one of the desert folk, from the southwestern reaches of Ardyn, right on the border. - Though Ezabel herself had never met such a person, his presence was of no surprise. People from every corner of the realm were at hand, eager for their turn.
“Take a deep breath, son.”, Auguste spoke. “Don’t rush yourself, this is no ordinary sealstone.”
The boy nodded. Hesitation was clear on him, but his hand lifted anyway. His chest rose with as much patience as he could muster. A deep breath. His demeanor suddenly shifted, overtaken by a newfound sense of poise. Then, he seized the knightstone, and lifted it firmly in his grasp. From the seams of his fist came the pale rays of a volatile magic.
A blinding flicker. The air around him rose; an uncanny gust of wind that swirled the hanging leaves of the willow above. A spectacle from which no one could look away. Then, it shifted. Isaiya weakened; a visible struggle that nearly brought him to a knee. It was as if his fist clenched onto a weight it simply could not handle. A force that pushed against him, willing to crush his arm under its very authority.
“Steady!”, Auguste shouted. “Do not lose focus!”
Isaiya clenched his teeth and squeezed. The light grew sporadic and spilled into every crevice. None were entirely sure of the progress he made. Not even the Attendants themselves. - But, in the midst of the strain and tension of the crowd, the light vanished. Every ray of magic siphoned back into Isaiya’s grasp. His body stood firm. And finally, his eyes opened. His gaze flared with a ghostly white and heralded the power that now flowed within him.
“Well would you look at that.”, Auguste interrupted.
He held forth his hand in which Isaiya returned the knightstone, after he had blinked away the magic in his eyes.
“I did it..”, Isaiya muttered. “I did it!”
“That, you did!”, Auguste reaffirmed with a nod.
“I had not expected for our first success to happen so quickly! Congratulations, Isaiya.”, Leonora added. “And, best of luck in the capital.”
The courtyard erupted in applause, to which Isaiya raised a proud fist. His success was a galvanizing sight, one that drove a new energy into the already hopeful list of candidates. - Ezabel was no different. The thumping of her heart raised with vigor. Until now, she had only read about the famous, glowing stare of the Attendants; the white hue, like pure moonlight, that granted their legendary power. To have seen it now with her very own eyes, it was vindication.
She could do it. She could join her brothers out in the wider world. She could make something of her meager existence. A smile formed on her lips without her even having realized. The tales of her childhood, which lulled her to bed every evening, were closer than ever before. - It was then that the light of the knightstone shone once again.
A harrowing scream curdled the air.
“Let the stone go!”, Auguste shouted.
The second assessment had started. When her attention returned to reality, it was met with the piercing wail of the next candidate. On the steps, he fell to his knees. The knightstone emanated an intensity it had not yet before; an autonomous force that pressed down against the man’s arm. He fought back and clutched the stone with both hands, a struggle with no avail.
“Drop it!”, Leonora warned.
In an instant, the orb ceased its influence and called back its magic. It fell dormant that very moment. To and from, the other participants looked on with uncertainty. Then, through their hushed voices, a flurry of sharp cracks rang through the silence. - The man fell from the steps and the knightstone rolled from his fingers. Like the splintering of glass and the snapping of wood, the bones of both his arms were shattered. No longer did his voice cry out, for he fell unconscious the moment he had hit the ground.
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Ezabel had returned to the stone bench on the far side of the courtyard. The sun had set some time ago, and the summer evening took hold. Still, the shadow of the bell tower above casted a darkness even night could not match. Uncertain fingers fidgeted with the strap of the bag that hung across her chest. Four books and the rest of her road necessities, it all weighed her down to the point where it was simpler to stay seated than anything else.
The crowd had thinned considerably. A difference that started when the second Attendant hopeful had passed out. He had been moved from the scene, tended to by a pair of guardsmen outside the walls of the town hall. Altogether, it was a sight that had set in stone the full gravity of the assessment. Those that simply could not push themselves to bear such injuries were scared off and elected to retract their participation. Was fame and glory worth such a risk?
Ezabel lost count of the names that had been called. But, she knew that with every failure, more people were discouraged into walking away, through the arch. It was indeed both fortunate and unfortunate. Good, in that her competition had thinned. Bad, in that her turn neared with every name that passed. - The sight of injury held a permanent place at the forefront of her mind. It was violent, and the cries of agony echoed in her head. Although a number of people had succeeded in the midst of it all, the joy surrounding their achievements could not lift her out of the haze. She was never good at handling pressure on her own. If only she had Xavier’s discipline. Or, Vance’s confidence.
When the sound of chatter fell upon her ears, it had dawned on her that she sat alone. Those that remained had taken it upon themselves to mingle as they waited. At a quick glance, it was all idle chatter between folk that seemed to stand out now that the majority of candidates had pulled out. It was to be expected after the long day they had all been a part of, though it had not yet concluded. - Ezabel casted a floating glance from one end of the courtyard to the other. A glance that quite possibly bore a small fraction of envy. There was nothing that told her she deserved to become an Attendant more than they.
“Hello!”
Ezabel flinched, startled by the sudden greeting. Her head shifted about, in an attempt to find the person from which it came. Unexpectedly, it was delivered by the woman who sat beside her on the same bench. It was perplexing almost. To Ezabel’s best recollection, this person had definitely not been seated there a second ago.
“Oh, h-hello?”, Ezabel replied, dazed.
“Would you mind if I take a seat? I’ve been standing all day!”
It was a question she was not entirely sure how to answer. This woman had already taken the seat, but wondered anyway. She smiled a brightness that Ezabel had not seen all day. Her face laid under a pair of rounded glasses. Auburn curls tumbled down pronounced cheekbones, down to her chin, and swayed as she waited for an answer. Being so close, it was quite easy to see that she stood half a head shorter than Ezabel. Especially once her legs criss-crossed atop the bench.
“Of course!”, Ezabel blurted out.
“Thanks a ton!”, the woman exhaled. “I can’t believe we’re doing this in order, I’m totally at the bottom of the list. What about you? What number did they give you?”
“One hundred and twenty five?”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“One hundred and twenty five.”, Ezabel repeated with a clearer voice.
“That’s a shame, I guess we’re both near the end.”, she pouted. “I’m Dannette by the way, but call me Dani.”
Joy beckoned, which Ezabel spared no effort in hiding. Dani, as sudden as she appeared, was a change of pace that was wholly welcomed (and needed) on an evening like this. She seemed to be unaffected by the general restlessness of their predicament. It was something that a fragment of Ezabel wished to ask about, though she ultimately held her tongue. She simply assumed that: some were just better than others when it came to dealing with stress. Afterall, she clearly had no trouble with approaching and sitting awkwardly next to a stranger.
“I’m Ezabel. It’s nice to meet you, Dani.”
They exchanged an animated handshake, when Ezabel caught a glimpse of a peculiar book that peeped out of Dani’s satchel. There was no denying it. The robust spine. The pattern on the cover. Even the choice of paper bound within. - It all suggested one certainty: it was a spellbook.
“Sorry..”, Ezabel muttered. “..but, are you studying spellcraft?”
“Huh? Oh this!”, Dani snickered. “Yeah, I am. You have a good eye!”
“That’s so cool!”, her eyes widened with admiration.
“Is it? Hehe..”, Dani sat with her back a little more straight. “Thanks, but it won’t do me any good unless I get my hands on a knightstone.”
“Oh, right..”
Of course, everyone had a reason for being here. In Dani’s case, without the magic of a knightstone, weaving spells would be impossible. Everything written in her book would be no more than theory in her hands. Ezabel surely recognized that. It seemed that her ambition was also dependent on her success here. Ambition that started with a book. It was a strange feeling to stumble across common ground so quickly. Not that she minded much.
“I’m sure you’ll make it to the capital, Dani.”, Ezabel smiled.
“I sure hope so. Failing a second time would suck!”
“Y-you’ve already failed once before?”
“Mhm. Last year. That’s when I realized my body couldn’t handle a knightstone. But, I figured..”, Dani tapped the spine of her tome. “..that I would keep trying!”
“Did your arms break!?”
“No!”, Dani laughed. “I knew I failed from the moment I touched it. It was as if it was too heavy for me.”
“But, if your body can’t absorb the stone’s magic, how would you be able to weave spells?”
“Oh, well it’s totally different from how you’d expect it to work. You see--.”, Dani hesitated. “Actually, it’s a lot to explain. And, it could get a little boring. Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Please!”, Ezabel nodded with pure anticipation.
“Wow, okay then. You see, Attendants can--.”
“Ezabel Grover!”
Leonora called with a stern tone. Her voice brought with it a wave of recognition that washed over Ezabel like a cold bucket of water. Before she knew it, the courtyard had emptied. Only a small number of candidates remained. And, of them all, she was next.
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