###
The dawn snatched the darkened sky with its orange glow, atop which birds flocked and sang their quaint trills, overtaken by the drolls of the crowd gathered below. The license test urged the night owls and the hopefuls awake, with Zayne and his friends included in that group. He descended the glistening roof tiles, tapping the walls gently as he made his way into the streets, then blended in.
Trodding amongst the languorous people nigh put Zayne to sleep, his lack of any rest submerged his mind in a permanent stupor—a mistake, now when he thought about it once more—but upon reaching the monolith, all those lethargy washed away like rain. His eyes caught the reflection of dawn, brandished by the monolith—the courtesy of nature—then proceeded to catch the attention of a brusque-looking official. He waved his temporary amulet and the man swiftly granted him passage.
Below the monolith, a few paces away from the entrance, a sea of varying soon-to-be adventurers crowded the circular area wreathed with high walls and banners of the kingdom. Inside, twenty separate square stages were erected, each made of strong varnished wood and held together by nails. A few individuals wore a saturated verdant cape that blew with the splashing wind; most believed them to be their testers today, and it grew from a guess to confirmation once they positioned themselves below the stages. Surrounding the swarm of people gathered a set of well-worn adventurers from all the different guilds, apparent from the embroidered badge near their variegated vests. Zayne spotted a dispatch from the Green badgers, hunching his head down, attempting to be as invisible as possible, while the white-haired old gentleman from the Emerald Council stood as if he was the tallest amongst those present.
Outside of the guild dispatches, a few other notable individuals were present. Some of them carried an air of undeniable presence around them, Zayne spotted a well-groomed scarlet maned man standing a head taller than him chaperoned by a bunch of curious individuals, a standoffish girl garbed in a simple dark cloth and a scarf with azure hair, covered by her somewhat queer mage hat, then the nobles wearing lavish outfits, displaying their opulence to the public. The siblings weren’t one of those types, thankfully; Zayne found little to love about the vanity those folks loved to embellish.
Most of those present heralded from academies from the other towns. Zayne couldn’t recognize them, but it was safe to assume most of those gathering in large groups were a part of a class from the other towns Zayne never visited.
“Zayne!” Gilbert and his siblings waved their arms toward him, their arms shrouded by the pacing crowds. He approached them as he stifled a big yawn. They took a quick glimpse at his new leather armor, nodding in quiet approval.
A light air of apprehension washed under their shifting feet and unsteady eyes, darting around, spotting the others with nervous agitation. “You get a good sleep last night?” Zayne asked despite knowing the answer, “Well, I’ll start; I didn’t get a wink of sleep.”
They discussed the test—mostly talking about their anxiety and nerves. Gilbert appeared the least nervous out of the bunch, excluding Zayne, and he even smiled on a few occasions, unlike Wyne whose color barely showed on her face. She kept rubbing her arms with darting eyes, refusing to rest on a single point to focus on. However, all those tensions turned to aggression when another group of smug, pretentious nobles pushed their long noses into the fray.
“Oh?” One of them spoke, a stocky man clad in full violet and black embroidered jacket and white shirt. His round jaw wobbled as he spoke, “What do we have here? The ex-nobles, making their appearance here? Why, are you hoping that being accepted here will change your future?”
Ex-nobles? Zayne craned his eyes to Oswul, who refused to meet his eyes.
“Shut up, Gilas.” Gilbert hissed. “Leave us alone.”
“And why should we?” Another warbled her pesky voice behind Gery, “You’re talking as if you’re still one of us. Learn your place.”
Her words didn’t sting any of the siblings despite her best efforts to piss them off. Zayne yawned as he eyed their exchange in pure silence. He never wished to be involved with the ones whose motivations revolved around their names and their so-called pride. Now, these would be the nobles Zayne often heard of. Kate never displayed any compassion for those folk, and he could understand why.
“Oh? Who is this?” The annoying woman continued, her eyes switching to Zayne’s disinterested figure. “Don’t tell me you’re all so pathetic that you relied on… this? Where’s your pride, Galant? And did you pay with your sword? How sad, Gilbert, truly.”
“Shut up. We’re leaving.” The siblings turned their heads in shame. Zayne studied this group of nobles once more before trailing the distraught figure of Gilbert.
“You three alright?” He spoke once the laughing ball of Gilas escaped his sights. “What an ass, huh?”
Oswul turned, bowing his head in shame. “We’re sorry to lie about our… status. As you heard, we used to be… well, nobles, but our family lost their wealth and recognition after a-“
“-I don’t want to hear it.” Zayne raised his arms, waving. “I’m not interested in your past, nor do I care whether you’re nobles or the son of a nobody.”
The three siblings raised their heads, relieved. Zayne smiled when he saw their relaxed shoulders, “I believe we have a test to prepare for… which will happen soon. Instead of wallowing in their nuisance, how about we channel that fury to the test instead?” he added, “Come on, guys. Look up.”
###
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
After a few minutes of waiting, and once the large open space was flooded with the increasingly impatient crowd, a brusque man rose to the stage. Clad in a dark red lavish suit, his eyes frowned upon witnessing the somewhat unruly folks below, then shouted. “Attention!”
His voice shattered the air of impatience, demanding full attention. “My name… is Gylenhal, the hall master of Basin, and you’d do well to listen to me.” He cleared his throat, studying the awestruck graduates and hopefuls alike, “The kingdom is this close to canceling the license test in light of what had happened to Burg, but alas, here we are.”
The silent crowd glued their eyes on him, “I’m afraid I don’t blare the flag of good news, however, From this year and henceforth, our Kingdom wished to improve the standard of the new adventurers, and hence, we had to… well, tighten our standards of granting new licenses.” He added, “Whether I approve of this or not is beside the point, but since the rules are now fully in place…” he paused with a petulant shrug, “Well, as rightful citizens of Heirlund, we can only follow their wishes.”
Gylenhal raised his head, extending a finger. “This year, there are no two phases in the test, due to the pressing matters outside of the city. Only one. Now, I’m sure you’ve noticed these stages and wondered what they are here for. Now, it’s time for your appearance. Testers!”
Twenty strong-looking adventurers rose to the erected stages, each holding a vexed frown in their eyes. “These are those who will grade whether you’ve passed the test. Enter the stage and show what you can do to them. Each of them will grant you this if you satisfied their requirements.” He reached out to a pocket and drew a green-tinted card. “The test will last for three hours, and your license will be awarded if you collect at least 10 of them.”
“Ten?” Echoes of that number started a chain reaction of light mumbles and groans from the crowd. Sure, the explanation made it sound elementary, but he didn’t specify which traits each tester was looking for. Maybe they are all grading for different things, Zayne stared daggers at the row of strong people crossing their arms on the stages. And also… he didn’t mention that we couldn’t steal. His eyes glimpsed at two familiar figures. Ah, there they are, Danya and Bernard, each appeared somewhat disinterested in their roles. Danya yawned once the speech ended, and a group of neatly dressed folks entered the fray, directing the masses to organize themselves inside a line. Wyne rubbed her hands to pump herself up while Oswul kept his gaze low, contemplating what awaited them. Gilbert frowned at the prospect of fighting the lithe-looking testers, cracking their necks, their eyes slithering around the crowd, searching for those they deemed dangerous.
Zayne was one of them.
A narrow-eyed man a few years his seniors glared at his figure from a distance, studying him from head to toe, shifting his gaze aside when Zayne noticed. He wore an outfit befitting of the typical forest ranger, a padded brigandine with a hooded top and a mask, revealing only his dark eyes, shaded by the hood.
Zayne brushed his sweaty lips. A deep-rooted will stretched its tendrils, egging him to the idea of challenging them all. He wouldn’t win all of them, that was certain, but he planned to nab at least half of the cards.
“Come!” An officer hurried to where he and the siblings waited, directing them to the nearest stage. First, A brutish tanned-skin woman made of ironclad muscles waited atop it and eyed the ones waiting in her line. Her disheveled light-brown hair tousled as she shook her head and slammed her fist together. “Come on!” Her stout nose flared as she hurried the ones to climb the stage. Her temper riled the agitated, scared crowd, freezing them in their steps before one elected to be her first victim. “Take a punch from me, and if you stand after that, you pass.” She said, smiling. “Now, clench up that abdomen, and don’t lose your bowels, you got me?”
The challenger lost all color on his face.
###
“You’re good!” The female ogre-ish woman nudged Gilbert’s quivering shoulders. Her punch damn near rearranged his inside, yet he stood still despite his shaking legs. “Congrats, my man, you passed~”
Gilbert limped outside of the arena, and next came Wyne. She didn’t stand a chance, despite her best efforts, but her puking disrupted her balance and sent her rolling on the wooden stage. The woman clicked her tongue, “Too bad.” She said with a wave. Oswul fared better than her, but he collapsed in the end, earning a genuine laugh from the tanned lady-no, tanned ogre. Zayne simply couldn’t see her as a member of the opposite gender. He took the steps and took a deep breath. Zayne had confidence he could withstand a punch from her; his brawn had caught up to Gilbert’s if he took into account the gains of his levels.
“Hoo…” She smirked once her eyes met Zayne’s resolute stare. “Here I come. Don’t disappoint me, kid.”
Zayne’s vision rolled. The once still and rigid scene ran circles in his vision, and the woman’s hardened face twisted into circles. At first, even sound escaped his ears, then he felt a certain lightness in his chest, then the smoldering tidal wave of pain erupted his insides. All the influx of pain cooked his brain into soup, warm and tender. Stand….Stand… Zayne chanted those words as he returned to reality, and wheezed when her face stabilized.
She slammed Zayne a lot harder than Gilbert, that was certain.
“Name’s Gretta. You took that well.” She winked and tapped his shoulder. “Here.”
Zayne won a card, but the notion of taking that kind of punch again sent his legs paddling away.
He waddled his way out of the arena, earning a look of respect from those hesitant to step into her stage. Wyne sat cross-legged on the floor, clutching her stomach with a pallid face and downtrodden eyes. Oswul lay with his arms apart, breathing air to soothe his insides. Gilbert and Zayne high-fived upon his return, smiling from ear to ear, then gasped in relief.
“I don’t think anyone will pass if there’s twenty of her on the stages.” He joked. “Wyne? You can heal if you want to, I don’t think that’s against the rules…”
She waved her head, pointing her staff at a stage riddled with magical projectiles. “I need to save mana.”
“I’d love a healing spell,” Oswul moaned, turning to Wyne’s pout, “Please?”
The stages and the test, while appearing haphazard at first, tested an array of multifaceted aspects relating to the dangers one would encounter in the life of adventuring. Mages had their mind tested by the supervisors with the same affinity, the warriors’ strength was braved by those like Gretta, and the fast and sneaky ones defied the lithe, agile-looking participants.
Zayne had great odds on two types of challenges. Brawn and speed he had under control, but magic… he wasn’t confident in. His only magic would be the earthen tendrils; a spell he wouldn’t call impressive.
Despite that, he entered the stage of a thick-clothed magician with a monocle. “My name is Herbert. I’ll make this quick; Use whatever you can to touch me.” He said, “-if you managed to do it in one minute, I’ll give you a pass.”
“I can use anything? Magic? Skills?” Zayne asked just to be sure, noting the man’s pointy hat.
“Yes… I’m allowed to cast debuffing magic too, but I won’t use anything offensive,” he replied, adjusting his monocle. “Now, let’s begin.”
Zayne rushed toward the caped magician, closing their distance within a few steps. “[Weaken]” He spoke. Invisible tendrils roped themselves around his waist, yanking him toward the floor, anchoring his limbs. While yes, none of those tendrils were real, that was how the magic felt to him. He bared his teeth, willing himself to continue, each step feeling like a trudge through thick snow. Safe to say, he had no chance to catch his enemy in this state.
“40 seconds.” The mage spoke, adjusting his hat. I needed a boost. Zayne’s mind ran to his adrenaline, but he was prudent enough to hold that card behind. Wait until he used his other spells… Patience.
Herbert navigated through Zayne’s attempt at lunging toward him with little difficulty. “Here… [Minor slow]” He spoke with an aloof tone, “30 seconds.”
Zayne’s once slow speed turned glacial, [Minor slow] didn’t just impede his natural speed, his muscles moved with a fraction of delay that rendered his actions a jumbled mess. Zayne kept his eyes on Herbert, who yawned, thinking the deed was done.