Men don’t cry.

That’s what Julian had proudly announced to his mother at the ripe age of six, as she’d bandaged up a cut he’d managed to get from climbing the tree in their backyard.

Now, at eighteen, standing on a platform where a chilling wind threatened to freeze the tears onto his cheeks, he knew just how wrong he’d been.

Standing in front of him were his parents, Adrian and Karla Renning. He couldn’t have asked for a better childhood, indeed, they’d been supportive of every decision he’d made throughout his life and schooling.

Almost every decision, he chuckled to himself.

Behind him was the train, set to leave in only a few minutes. Once he stepped into the carriage, his old life would come to an end, and his new one would begin. He’d thought that he was ready to leave his parents, and had been incredibly excited to leave as soon as he;d received the acceptance letter. But his tears betrayed him.

He embraced his parents in a hug, knowing that once he turned, he wouldn’t see them for almost a year.

“We love you, Jules,” said his mother, wiping her own tears from her face.

“And we’re so, so proud,” said his father, who broke the hug with a smile that was both happy and sad. “But you have somewhere to be.”

He was right, the train would leave any minute now. Julian stepped back, and took in the view of his parents, mixed emotions of pride at his achievements, and sadness at having to give up their only child.

“Bye mum. Bye dad. I love you.”

The whistle of the train’s conductor cut through the air. He’d run out of time. The young man turned, and stepped into the carriage,

He made his way to the compartment that he and his parents had loaded up with his two suitcases earlier, and sat down as it began to move, slowly picking up speed. The train’s interior, while cramped, was warm and comfortable, a pleasant contrast to the bitter chill of the winter wind outside. He was glad for it as well, the journey from Vardenton to Stravenium was far too long to not travel in comfort. He’d had to wake up at the crack of dawn to make it to the station in time to get on the train. The fortnightly passenger train’s route stretched far further west to the Kingdom of Straven’s border. It had made its way through other towns that were also mostly mining settlements, and then travelled overnight to reach his home, Vardenton.

‘My former home’, he thought. His new home, Stravenium, awaited. He’d never visited his kingdom’s capital, and so had only heard tales of the great city, of the bustling streets and markets, the imposing blackstone fortresses of the King’s Military, and of course, the Anchor. The great portal that had saved the people of Straven from certain destruction long ago, could reportedly be seen from miles around, a towering structure that cast a long shadow during the day, and a beacon of light during the night. Every child knew the story, had seen photos and depictions of it in newspapers and books, but he knew that it wouldn’t hold a candle to actually being able to see it.

‘I’ve gotta actually get there first’, he thought, looking out the window of the train as snow began to fall.

From Vardenton, the train would continue on until the late afternoon, when it would finally reach the city, located just south of the snowy mountain range that divided Straven and its northern neighbour, Eldoria. Julian realised he actually lived relatively close to the capital, all things considered. His country’s territory stretched much further south, down to the far less harsh farming lands, which were bordered by both Zarathar and Thalindor. Of course, those southern borders were largely untested. There simply weren’t enough people to settle there, at least during this age. He wasn’t actually sure if anyone other than desperate traders who couldn’t afford to use the Ley Lines, or even the Anchor, ventured into those untamed plains.

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Looking back into the compartment, his gaze strayed to the suitcases in front of him. Reaching over, he clicked open the top one, opening it to pull free a thick envelope. The front was embossed with a wax seal, now broken, but the insignia of a wolf was still prominent. Opening the heavy paper, something he’d done constantly over the last month, the young man was able to pull out the letter inside. He unfolded it, and read the words that he’d been hoping for since he finished his last high school exam.

Dear Julian Renning

The Kingdom of Straven congratulates you on your acceptance into the Royal Mages’ Apprenticeship. We acknowledge the exceptional work you and many other applicants put in to get this far, and we are excited to welcome you to your new home in the capital. Please rest assured that your study has paid off. Only one in every thousand students that apply to this program, one of the most elite in the world, let alone the Kingdom, are successful in being given an offer. Please see below for further details:

You have received an offer to the Royal Mages’ College of South Stravenium.

Please present yourself to the clerk’s office by 18:00 on the 4th Day of the 2nd Month in this 410th Year NW. You are required to be at dinner by 19:00 in the Main Common Room in which the Matriculation Ceremony will commence at 20:00.

If you wish to deny your offer, please note that you will not be considered for Readmission into a Royal Apprenticeship until next year.

Failure to abide by the terms above will result in your offer being summarily rescinded, and you will be required to reapply for next year’s intake.

Below is a list of items that will be provided for you by the College.

1 x Bed

1 x Desk…

The letter continued, becoming an increasingly boring drivel about how life at the College would work. Julian didn’t see a need to reread that part, having double and triple checked at the behest of his parents that he had everything he needed before leaving. Thankfully, since he’d been accepted into a Royal Apprenticeship, the most elite study of the arcane arts one could undertake in the kingdom, most expenses were covered. He’d been shocked to see when first reading the letter that he’d not only have his room, board and education paid for, but he would also get an (admittedly small) stipend of money to spend.

His mother and father had been adamant, however, that this was not ‘free’. The young man had been made well aware further on in the letter that the kingdom considered him an investment, one they intended to make good on. While all those studying as part of a Royal Apprenticeship would graduate debt free, at least in terms of finance, they were effectively selling themselves into the service of the Kingdom. He wasn’t sure exactly what that would look like, as there was no requirement to pick a specialisation until later in his training.

His choice had been made, years ago, however. It wasn’t exactly a surprise. Almost every young child wanted to become a Delver, and while many settled for more normal jobs as they grew up, it seemed that Julian never had. Tales of daring exploits into humanity’s ancestral home were eagerly devoured, whether true or false, by children across the Kingdom. As an adult, he could now appreciate the propagandistic role these stories played, but if he was honest? That didn’t change a thing. He’d always wanted to be counted among the hallowed group of adventures that didn’t just enter that dangerous hellscape, but fought against the terrors within. The Delvers were the advance force for almost every foray into the old world. If there were resources to be mined, they would secure the location. When ancient artefacts were unearthed, they were responsible for their safe return. And when a rift opened, and an incursion of terror humanity once again, the Delvers would enter, sealing them closed once more.

And now he was so close to that goal. He could scarcely believe he’d made it this far. If he could get proficient enough in the requisite skills, he was almost guaranteed to become one, helped in large part by the sheer name power of the Royal Mages’ Apprenticeship. The elite program was overwhelmingly populated with either children of the powerful noble or wealthy merchant families, or those who had been selected based on genius intellect or unnatural power. Julian didn’t feel as if he fit into either category. Nevertheless, he had made it in, he had earned his place, and he was going to do his damndest to prove that he deserved it.

Suddenly, there was a loud crash. The lights of the compartment flickered, as the mana powering the spellform inside was disrupted. The young man felt the train slowing down, and watched as the snowy landscape previously rushing past became still. He could hear people talking throughout the carriage. Strangely, no one seemed at all panicked.

As a long howl pierced the winter air, metal shutters slammed across his window, locking him inside.

‘Please remain calm’ echoed a voice down the train.