The two men sat facing each other, the two chairs were the only furniture in the tent. A lamp dangled overhead, casting deep shadows underneath the mage’s cheekbones. The mage proctor wore the same uniform as Simon, but his belt was a shining gold with four black stripes. The pin on his lapel was a skull with a lighting bolt through it. Warm brown eyes that matched his not quite regulation haircut made Lukas feel marginally better. The Imperial Army was full of attractive men that made Lukas question why he hadn’t visited the big city sooner.

"And how are we feeling today, Private--" The mage glanced at the form that Lukas held against his chest as a protective shield. "Braddock?"

"I feel like a prize heifer at the Harvest Fair, sir." Lukas felt his ears heat up under the mage's regard.

The mage laughed. "Not a bad description. I am Archmage Gregory du Trops and I’ll be administering your test today." He had the same last name as Simon. Did that mean that they grew up in the same orphanage?

"Do you know what mages are?" Lukas shook his head and the Archmage continued in a calm even tone that reminded Lukas of how his father talked to cranky mules. "Mages cast magic called blessings and curses.” He held open his right hand. “Blessings are of positive intent.” He opened his left hand. “Curses are of negative intent.” He folded his hands together.

“We use our powers to influence the outcome of battles. A curse applied to a cannon can make the cannon explode or kick back, missing the target. A blessing applied to a cannon may make it hit the target right here." The Archmage pressed his finger between Lukas' eyes and slightly tilted his own head as if evaluating what he saw. He sat back, resting his hands lightly upon his thighs.

"A cursed Alpha suddenly goes into rut on the battlefield. A blessed one avoids a bullet in the heart." Lukas heard the paper beneath his palms crinkle as he stared into the Archmage’s mesmerizing eyes. He could not look away as the mage continued. "We are both the angels and the demons of the battlefield, both sanctified and damned by our powers. If you join our ranks you'll be elevated above your fellow Alphas. Mages are powerful beyond our secondary designations."

He reached inside a satchel on the floor at his side and pulled out a green crystal the size of a fall apple. "This crystal measures your spark, your potential." He held his palm flat as if offering a carrot to a shy horse. “Don’t be afraid.” Lukas took the crystal. The enlistment form fluttered to the ground as he cradled the stone in his palms.

"Now close your eyes and think about your favorite food your mother made." It was a better choice than his favorite cow, Lukas thought as he remembered Simon’s warnings. “Tell me what it is.”

"Apple tart." Lukas said as he closed his eyes, picturing his family sitting around the hearth as his mother read from the Holy Books. There was an extra seat at the hearth for him.

The Archmage murmured, his voice soothing and guiding, "Did your mother add rum soaked raisins?"

"Yes." The extra seat wasn't for him. It was for Simon. As he imagined his commander sitting beside the warmth of the fire, his heart warmed at the same time. He wanted to add Simon to his family. It felt right, like adding rum-soaked raisins to an apple tart. The certainty of the revelation zinged up his spine as he concentrated on protecting everyone that he loved.

"Open your eyes." Lukas obeyed. The Archmage's brow furrowed as he searched Lukas' face, his nose a hairsbreadth away the young man's own. "Why-- why isn't there anything there? It doesn't make sense. You're swollen with potential, but something is blocking my-- " He looked down at the registration form on the tent floor and spoke as if confirming a terrible suspicion. "Who recruited you, Private?"

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"Major Simon du Trops, sir."

The Archmage sat back, sighed and looked up at the tent ceiling in resignation. "Thank you Private. That explains quite a lot." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Did you ever think about the potential benefits of becoming a mage?"

"I didn't even know that mages even existed until today, sir." Lukas admitted.

"The Major always was a selfish brat." Archmage Gregory shook his head. "Being a mage has privileges and benefits that far surpass that of an average soldier or even a lower-ranking officer. Alpha mages are paid twice what their magic-null counterparts are, not to mention that we get the best food, housing and medical care. Entire branches of the infantry are assigned to protect us on the battlefield." He rested his hands on his thighs as he regarded Lukas. "Did my old friend Simon fail to mention most of that?"

Lukas bit at his lower lip and replied, "He did not mention any of that, sir." It wouldn't have mattered if he had.

The mage sighed. "I wish that I'd found you first." He reached out and took the crystal from Lukas' hands. "Newly presented Alphas are like ducklings. They tend to imprint upon the first person they perceive as being stronger than they are. That's why the military sends officers out to collect our newborn baby ducks. There's nothing wrong with it, it's just how life works, but I feel that you are cheating yourself out of an amazing opportunity for your future." He was so earnest that Lukas felt a bit guilty about his choice. "You don't have to stay with the first officer who catches your eyes. If you cooperate with testing and you pass then you will have the very best that military life can offer. Even a retirement with a pension after years of honorable service. Mage-killers serve until they're too injured, too old or too dead to fight. Please, please reconsider."

Everything that the Archmage said was honest and forthright. He wouldn't be begging a lowly enlisted man if he didn't feel like Lukas had the potential to be a mage. A magic user flinging blessings and curses over the battlefield, altering the fates of men. The idea terrified Lukas. It was one thing to have a dagger in his hand, an honest rifle over his shoulder, but casting magic spells like some hero of legend in the Holy Books? He couldn't picture himself doing that.

Lukas said after a very long awkward silence, "I'm not a mage."

The Archduke stood up and faced the exit. "You're powerful enough to block my test, that's proof enough of your spark. As a new recruit I'm sure you are unaware of my position in the chain of command." He held out his hand at shoulder height. "That's where the General is. The officer in charge of the entire operation of this camp. This is where I rank as Archmage." His hand didn't move. "I could conscript you into the mage corps anytime I like."

“Please— please don’t take me from him, sir. I might be stupid—- no, I’m not stupid. I may have only known him for two days but I feel in my heart, in my soul that we are meant for each other. His scent alone makes my heart reel—“ Lukas pleaded with heartfelt passion, uncertainty fueling him into recklessness.

“Betas don’t have a scent that impacts Alphas.” Archmage Gregory interrupted as he folded his arms.

“Well he does! He smells like honey and salt and my favorite Winter Solstice bread on a sunshine-filled day. His hands are warm, and his smile is kind. I don’t want to imagine a day without him in my life no matter how short or hard it is. Please sir, I’m begging you, don’t make me be a mage.” Lukas bowed his head. He was at the mercy of the powerful man standing in front of him.

“So apple tart isn’t your favorite food either?” The Archmage sighed again.

“No sir. Not anymore.” Lukas held his breath.

Archmage Gregory plucked the enlistment form from the floor and pulled out a stamp from his satchel. It was a black X. “Perhaps some of that misspent passion could be put to better use for defense of your country.” He stamped it in the lower corner in the space labeled, Failed Mage Test. "I want you to know that if you ever reconsider, you are welcome in the mage corps. Please give this paperwork to the clerk standing outside.” He smiled but Lukas felt his immense disappointment weigh upon him like stones upon his shoulders.

As Lukas stood up, saluted and began to leave the tent the Archmage said, “Oh and please give Major Simon my warmest personal regards. We will all meet again in two days time.”

“If I may ask, why sir?” Lukas asked and the gleam in the mage’s eyes made the hair stand on end upon the back of his neck.

“Our units use each other as training target practice, of course. Until we meet again, Private Braddock. You are dismissed.”