The next day they spent wandering the town, getting used to the busy marketplace, and learning what they could about the tryouts. Alya had never stopped playing with fire, ever since she first discovered an affinity for it. At first she needed her aura on display for her to feel the flames, but by the time they had reached Makerstown she could easily weave fireballs around her while concealing her aura tightly within herself. She wasn't sure if her aura needed to be hidden, but after the warning from the old man on the river, she thought it was better to be safe.
Jak was much more determined that his aura would never slip. This whole town thrived on magic, and the school's whole existence was based upon it. He didn't think they would take too kindly to someone who's very presence could sap magic out of the air. While Alya practiced with fire, Jak practiced his fighting forms. The problem was, he didn't have any fighting forms. He just imagined enemies coming at him, and tried to do what seemed right. Tim watched him, trying to keep his face neutral as Jak spasmed and jerked around the empty field they were practicing in. After about twenty minutes Jak sat down, sweating.
"I might," he panted, "need some direction. Some tips or a stance to practice or something." Tim sighed with relief.
"That, Jak, is a really really good idea. Let's go to the marketplace, see if we can find anything there." Jak gave a whistle and Ash bounded over to them, wagging his tail. Jak wasn't sure if wolves were supposed to wag tails. Alya joined them and they went back to the market. There were so many stalls, it seemed you could find absolutely anything, if you knew where to look. Eventually they came across a table with stacks of wooden cards. On the cards were drawings of a person in various fighting stances. Jak's eyes lit up as he surveyed the cards.
"Looking for a new fight style are we?" the trader behind the table asked. "What you see spread out are eight different disciplines from the northern mountains. The first two are unarmed styles, the other six, well, you can see the weapons on the card." He gestured at the cards on the table, and Jak could see one stack had the drawn person holding a long curved sword, the next stack showed two short swords, the next holding a long spear, and so on. Jak had no idea what to choose, his only fights up til this point were pure instinct. He'd never trained in weapons, other than using a bow and his knife for hunting. He also didn't have any weapons, after selling his club, so he bought one of the unarmed cards and they went back to the empty field to practice. The card showed a simple move: blocking an incoming attack with the left hand, while stepping in and punching with the right. Jak repeated the motion for hours, until the sun went down. Again he imagined enemies of all sorts coming after him, often wearing the faces of all the villagers that had cast him out. Each time they came, he stepped forward, blocked their attack, stepped forward again, and delivered a punishing blow.
Eventually the moon was high overhead, and Jak was training by the light of Alya's flames. She seemed equally driven to do well at the tryouts. She now had five fireballs spinning around her body, sometimes merging to form bigger flames, before splitting back into five. She threw them away from her, then pulled them close. She tried compressing them, making them smaller but brighter. Jak had a feeling she would be just fine.
The following day was spent much the same. Jak knew others would be at the tryouts with years of training and practice, knowing all the fancy styles out there. Jak didn't have that luxury, so he just practiced the one move, making small adjustments, trying to get it perfect. Tim watched from the side, cheering them on, and patting Ash. Having grown up watching the palace guard train, Tim couldn't help but wince seeing Jak's training, but he didn't want to bring his friend down. Instead he provided food, water, and as much moral support as he could.
The morning of the tryouts, the three of them went to the administration building, and were directed to the location of the tryouts. To their surprise, it was actually the empty field they had been practicing in. This morning, however, it wasn't empty at all. Hundreds of people were milling about, while some workers were laying down sand from carts and raking it to make a circular arena. Eventually a man blew a trumpet, and a single clear note echoed throughout the field, silencing everyone. Next to the trumpeter was a man seven feet tall, broad and muscular. He had streaks of grey in his beard, and his eyes carried a finality about them. Jak found himself hoping that the man wouldn't see him.
"Fighters here," the man said, his voice carrying louder than expected. He pointed down at the sand next to his feet. "Magic over there. Crafting over there." He pointed to two more sections of the field. When they realized he wasn't going to say anything further, the crowd starting to drift into the three sections.
When just the fighters remained, an attendant handed out a red ribbon to each person enrolling for the school. They then squared off in pairs, and the winner of each fight would get the ribbons of the loser. Jak was paired with a thin well-dressed lad who looked like he'd never done a day's work in his life. Jak felt a bit weird about the mismatch, but still took it seriously. As soon as a bell was rung, signalling the start of the match, the boy rushed towards Jak. Feeling his muscle memory kick in, Jak simply followed the move he had been doing for a thousand times the last two days. The boy threw a punch, Jak moved his left forearm to redirect it, stepped forward, and punched the boy in the face. The boy scrambled back, going white with shock. Holding back tears, he gingerly touched his nose, where a trickle of blood was coming out. Jak took a step forward and the boy quickly yielded, throwing his ribbon at Jak's feet. Jak picked it up, feeling good but nervous. He didn't know how many rounds there would be in total, but he had a feeling they wouldn't all be this easy.
Over in another arena, Alya was grouped with 30 or so other teens. Most of them looked like nobles, with high fashion, fathomless pride, and a distinct lack of empathy. Alya watched some of them talking. A girl with blonde hair, a pointed nose, and strange violet eyes was bragging about her heritage.
"My bloodline comes from a trueborn only eight generations away, but it gets better than that," she said smugly, "my father also has a trueborn in his family tree, seventeen generations back, so it wouldn't be fair to put me with other eight generation mages." Seeing Alya staring, the girl looked at Alya's clothing and raised an eyebrow. "And what cave did they drag you out of?" Several of her companions chuckled, making the girl look quite proud of herself.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
"I come from the mountains, are you always this awful? Can you do magic? I would love to see it. What's your name?" Alya said quickly, her eagerness to see magic completely dissolving any wound she might have felt from the insult. The girl with violet eyes didn't know how to respond, and after an awkward pause, said "Violet".
"Oh, is it because of the eyes? Are they magic? I've never really seen magic before, until just a few days ago really." Alya was chatting more than she ever had, whether it was from nerves or excitement she couldn't tell. Violet was about to reply when a woman clapped once, the soft sound echoing throughout the crowd with an uneasy loudness that matched the voice of the man overseeing the fighting.
"Welcome, children," the lady said. She had grey hair and looked quite motherly, with a kind smile as she surveyed the group in front of her. "The fighters are doing what they do best, but the magic tryouts will not be a fight. The first thing I will say is that we cannot tolerate mages fighting at Elwind. We are too strong and our bodies too soft. A society cannot stand if everybody is dead, now, can it? So. Our tryouts will simply be a performance. We will see what you can do, and measure your ability from there. Would anybody like to go first?" Alya's hand started to go up, but Violet was already stepping out onto the sand in front of the judges.
"Violet Featherwell, of the Featherwell family," she declared before the judges had the chance to ask her name. "I would like to demonstrate fire." One of the judges nodded and gestured to the ground near Violet. A small fire burst out of nowhere, burning happily on the sand as if it were dry kindling. Violet bowed, then started doing what looked to Alya like a strange dance. She did some cartwheels, then a flip, then moved her arms around like she was underwater. As she danced, a single fireball leapt out of the fire, accompanying her movements. They were graceful, Alya supposed, but she didn't understand the movements at all. Shortly after, a second fireball leapt out of the fire and all the others in the group gasped. Violet spun into a cartwheel and the two fireballs wove around her like they were ribbons. Violet stopped dancing and bowed, while a third fireball arose from the flames for about two seconds, before all three vanished and Violet stumbled a bit. She stood upright, face covered in sweat, and when she walked to the side of the arena a servant rushed up to her with a towel, followed quickly by a gaggle of noble girls telling her how incredible she was.
Alya didn't go next, she felt that maybe it was better to see what the others could do first. The next person was a boy who asked for water. A different judge gestured similar to the first, and a pool of water appeared next to the boy. He held his hands over the water, and after twenty seconds of concentration the water started rising until the boy was covered in a cloud. To Alya it looked... cute? She was excited to see magic, but she couldn't understand what the boy was doing, or why. Neither, it seemed, could the judges. They frowned at the cloud boy, made a note on their papers, and asked for the next contestant.
Alya saw a boy who could make a ball of earth rise into the air, which was quite impressive until the boy fainted. Then there was another fire mage, who could pass a single fireball from hand to hand. After that was a girl who did a complicated gesture with her arms and the crowd felt a breeze cool them from the hot sun. As she watched, Alya found a girl with dark skin and green eyes standing next to her. She looked friendly, and they started commenting on the people trying out.
"I'm Jade, by the way," the girl said. "I'm not the greatest mage, but I'm so happy to be here. I've been dreaming of this day for years." Alya looked at the enthusiasm in Jade's eyes.
"I think I have, too," Alya said, "I just didn't know it." The current contestant finished and Jade stepped forward next. She introduced herself, asked for some water, and knelt down and started working with her hands. She was facing hte judges, so the other contestants couldn't see what she was doing until she stepped back. There, sitting in the sand on the hot summer's day, was a little snowman. Alya smiled at that. In an instant, she realized that magic wasn't just for combat or destruction. Sometimes the world just needed a little snowman. Suddenly, from the side, a fireball flew out and hit the snowman, vaporizing it in an instant. Jade looked shocked, and then crestfallen. The judges frowned, and one of them announced that interference with the tryouts was not allowed. But the damage was done. Jade bowed to the judges, and made her way back to the crowd. Alya looked over and saw Violet and several of her friends holding back laughter. She frowned, and stepped forward as the next contestant.
"My name is Alya. I would like to demonstrate with fire."
"What is your last name, Alya?" one of the judges asked.
"Uhh, I don't have one." Alya replied, hearing more laughter come from the noble girls. She grimaced and looked over at Jade, seeing her hastily dry some tears. A judge waved a fire into existence at Alya's feet and motioned for her to begin. Alya didn't pull a fireball out of the fire, instead she moved the entire fire up into the air. Then she split it into two, then split each half into two again, so four giant fireballs hovered in front of her. The crowd went silent. Alya wiggled her arms like an octopus, then spun in a circle and jumped in the air, in a very poor imitation of Violet's dance. The flames didn't move. She did the octopus thing again for good measure, and then clapped once. After getting over their shock, the crowd started to laugh. The dancing was terrible, a mockery of what Violet had done, especially since her control of fire was much better than Violets. Alya finished and bowed to the judges, peeking at Violet during the bow. The girl's face was red.
"How long have you been attuning to fire, girl?" one of the Judges asked.
"About a week, ma'am." Alya responded. The judges all stared, then started writing hastily in their notebooks. Alya went back to see Jade, whose face was going through all kinds of emotions, mostly shock and excitement.