Alix had made it almost all the way downstairs before the piercing headache hit him again. He grabbed his temples on instinct, trying to soothe the sudden onslaught of pain, but only succeeded in dropping his textbooks down the stairwell.
Mother’s own, I hope the pages haven’t torn. The textbooks had cost a fortune, the money coming straight out of his savings. He’d memorised their contents a long time ago, but it would still upset him if they were damaged. Rushing down to pick them up, he finished buttoning up his shirt—the only one which he’d managed to keep white for so long—and brushed his hand over the leather covers.
Squinting, he read the titles. ‘Natural Philosophy - Third edition’ and ‘Mechanisms of Energy Transforms’ were the two important texts for that day. He’d need to be on his top form, so he’d packed them as a just-in-case. Almost as an afterthought, he picked up the third book—‘A Practical Guide to Sorcery’.
It’s just a waste of space, really. There’s no way I’ll need it for the magic exam. I should just leave it behind. But eventually he decided to shove it into his bag beneath the other two. It was pretty light—containing almost no information—and Alix figured it never hurt to be prepared, no matter how little he cared for the subject.
Vertigo gripped him as he stood up again, but he shook it off. Bag laden, he picked his coat off the hook and used a simple iron key to let himself out the front door. Mr Ellis—the man who owned the shop beneath Alix’s house—was setting up for the day. He greeted Alix as he turned to lock the house behind him.
“Another early day eh, Alix?” His voice was earnest and friendly. It was a familiar chat for Alix. “I swear, the schoolmasters work you kids like pigs. I never completed seventh year, myself.” He gave Alix what he probably thought was a cheeky grin, but the old man wasn’t conniving enough for that.
“Yes. Though it’s my last day today,” Alix replied, handing him the usual half-Mark for half a loaf of fresh bread. Despite Ellis’ claims, completing six years of formal education was remarkable for anyone who wasn’t intending to be an academic.
“Oh exams?” Ellis asked, before continuing when Alix nodded, “Then go! Be on your way and return victorious!” The man sent him off with a wave as Alix turned to be on his way, rolling his eyes. The man surely knew that Lacurna’s yearly Medallion exams weren’t a competition.
And besides, Alix wouldn’t need any extra encouragement today, because today was the day for science. When he would finally achieve the goal he’d been working toward for almost twelve whole years of schooling.
The morning sun lit the cobblestone street as Alix strode between buildings on either side. Squished together in neat blocks, the homes and establishments commonly rose three or four storeys. The road had been neatly swept and the crystalline streetlamps extinguished.
He was hardly the only one about so early, he saw proprietors opening their businesses and even watched enviously as a man rode past on a bicycle—not quite as efficient as a horse, but they were just so convenient when moving down the dense roads of Gartmans district.
A carriage approached behind him, so Alix ducked under the eaves which lined either side of the street. He took a dogleg left, passing into the shadows of increasingly taller buildings until he eventually came out to the light again by the river Kell’s waterside. The river flowed ponderously. And Alix spent a moment just standing there tracking it with his eyes, but he needed to face the music.
The Crown Bridge beckoned to him—and not just because of its mathematical perfection, but Alix could go on for hours about the level of precision that had gone into its creation. Across the water rose the grand buildings of administration, barracks, research labs, everything that was needed by the court and Crown of the largest city on the continent. Crownside Lacurna was small but naturally defended by the ravine-like slope that rose sharply behind it.
Walking slightly up the waterfront, Alix joined the slow but steady trickle of people crossing the bridge. It was a behemoth of a construct, capable of easily fitting two carriages abreast. Two majestic arches stretched over the water, bifurcated by a massive black column at the river’s centre. The two arches were large enough to let past all but the biggest ships, many of which would dock in Cityside Lacurna to offload goods.
A forceful but controlled voice broke Alix out of his thoughts.
“You please, young man! Yes you, sir. Please come this way.” A woman in vivid red livery had stepped out from a side of the bridge to approach him. Pedestrians stepped past as Alix made his way over, unworried.
“Random checks, nothin’ else,” the Civil Guard said simply, “Everyone heading into the Crownside should have papers.”
“Of course.” Alix fished a student identity slip out of his bag, flashing it to the Redjacket. She recognised the Academy’s seal instantly.
“Right then, as you were.” She sent him on his way and allowed him onto the bridge.
That’s—what—the third time I’ve been checked this week? Alix almost considered it strange, but discarded the idea. It was unlucky, was all. Pushing ahead, he trailed his fingers along the wrought-iron rail and stared out into the glimmering water. White sails shimmered at the edge of his vision. Ships would be docking soon.
The migraine gripped his head again. Startled, he clawed at his head, but couldn’t shake the blanket-like oppression that surrounded his thoughts.
Where did this come from? I was completely fine yesterday. Maybe it’s just overwork. I shouldn’t have stayed up so late reviewing my notes. He couldn’t afford failure today. Not for the science Medallion.
And the sorcery, I suppose. Though I hardly care about that one.
Head still hurting, Alix bit back a laugh. He’d been obsessed with being a mage when he was younger, completely thrilled to hear any obviously-fake story about them. But he was older now, properly educated. And magic wasn’t all that he’d thought it to be.
Because that was the thing: magic was boring. It was simple, accessible to almost everyone, but it was more or less unimportant. It helped many people in their everyday lives, sure. It was used almost everywhere, in fact, from medicines to blasting rods to streetlamps, but that just didn’t hold any appeal to Alix. He wanted to be at the forefront of society, taking part in the revolution of scientific understanding that had gripped the country for the last thirty years. Not some old mage who could fix your Mana-oven.
No, Alix had his priorities sorted. The exam would go well, because he was nothing if not diligent. He would get the best position in a commissioned Crownside laboratory and everything would be a fine.
Wiping away a sheen of sweat that he didn’t know had formed, Alix set off down the gently sloped bridge and towards the end of his education.
Camherst Academy was easily spotted from the great courtyard that served as the entrance to Crownside Lacurna. A carefully pruned hedge sculpture sat at the centre of a wide paved intersection between the branching pathways. The leaves were cut into the shape of six stacked cubes, with the top one balancing precariously, ready to tumble down.
Choosing a well-known path, Alix didn’t have to go far at all before entering the grand gates of his school—a second home for the past twelve years. It was a boarding school, so for many of the students it actually was their home. A rare privilege in the rich society of Crownside, where only people of high national value or political importance were allowed to stay. Though it was a privilege that Alix never felt inclined to use, despite having earned his way in.
The fact that students slept here meant that lessons began ruthlessly early, especially for someone who had to walk to school. It was four minutes to eight when Alix strode into the exam hall. He left his bag by the door, as they weren’t allowed during the exam, before taking the final seat in a large grid, with many students his age taking the test simultaneously. Maybe almost a thousand.
Alix shivered. The decadent hall seemed to press down on him. The roof, which had once felt so cavernous supported by massive stone-block pillars, sunk down and crushed him. Nobody noticed Alix’s plight, all focused on their own inner turmoil on what could easily be the most important day of their lives.
His nausea only mounted as a proctor went over the process. Barely deigning to listen to instructions, instead only focusing on the rushing sound that kept seeming to get louder.
Printed exam papers were flicked onto every desk by a bored-looking kid walking between the rows. Alix rubbed the paper. It’s good quality, he noted, feeling some sort of detached pride at that. Because if everything else went wrong, then at least he went to a school that could afford proper paper, right?
Though this was his last day. This test was his ticket out of here.
Skittish, his gaze snapped forward as a large pendulum-clock was wheeled out onto the low stage at the front of the room. The hour hand pointed towards the eight, but Alix couldn’t read the thin minute hand while pain wracked his temples. Whatever, he was becoming more and more irritable, indicated by the way he twitchily moved a pen between grips in his fingers, I know it’s around three hours, I’ll just use the hour hand. He forced himself to breathe slowly. It would be fine.
Like a flag signalling racers, the proctor called for the test to begin. Alix flipped over the sheet.
It was not at all fine.
His breath hitched as he read through the questions, brain spinning at a million miles per hour but eyes hurting to keep open. His fountain pen moved with a shaky hand, leaving ink blotches and ticking boxes for the wrong answers. He somehow couldn’t convince himself to correct them. The first identified element? Nitrogen, of course. How could it be anything else?
He ticked the box while his brain screamed at him, but focusing too much just hurt. So Alix’s only option was to make it up.
He knew this. He knew it all, damn the Mother. But it was still all wrong. And Alix had no clue how to control himself and fix the errors that were rapidly mounting. He blew through the paper at twice the rate of anyone in the hall, though everyone was naturally too self-absorbed to notice.
After multiple choice were the extended responses. And even in his fugue state, Alix grimaced at his own handwriting. Maybe his brain could recognise the spindly script as words—and even that was a stretch—but certainly nobody else would. His answers were either much too short, or went on wild tangents that led his pen off the edge of the page. The boxed-in response areas were just suggestions, really.
Having just explained why the three essential nutrients were blood, salt, and oil, Alix frantically flipped over another page. The sooner he was done, the sooner he—
There was nothing. Only a blank back with a clip in the top corner. Heart still beating like a whitehorn addict, he spent an extra second to arrange both pen and paper nicely on his desk before abruptly standing up. His chair flew backwards with a grating staccato against the polished floor, threatening to topple over. A proctor rushed over to attend to him immediately.
“I am completed,” he said amicably, eyes glossing over slightly while the proctor looked him up and down, then glanced at the neat paper on the desk.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Performance enhancing medication?” she asked, getting straight to the point, “Nobody completes the Medallion in an hour, even if you ignore all the review time people spent checking over their answers. Are you sick? You’re pale.”
The woman’s tone was harsh and uncompromising, but so was Alix.
“I’m fine,” he lied, though his lips wouldn’t let him tell the truth, “And more importantly, I’ve completed the exam. May I leave to get some air?”
The proctor glanced around, seeing how her raised tone had caught the eyes of a few still-working students. She hesitated a moment before giving a succinct nod.
Alix gave an appreciative dip of his head—it always paid to be polite—before turning on a heel and exiting the hall with the exact stride he had entered with: Confident, collected, not at all on the edge of a mental breakdown. Not even a little bit.
He collected his bag on the way out. Its weight felt like a joke. The second he’d left the building he made a turn, then another, all at random until he was lost on some winding path through manicured courtyards. When he felt like he hadn’t seen a groundskeeper for long enough, he pushed through a bush and fell to his knees on a random patch of ground.
Ellis’ fresh bread tasted significantly worse on the way out. Alix couldn’t reconcile the two.
It looked worse as well, splattering against a rock and spraying in every direction. A small bit got onto the front of his coat, Alix couldn’t find it within him to care.
He couldn’t really care about anything. Today was the day for the Medallion. Nothing was more important—he’d prepared for literally years— and Alix had completely fucking ruined it.
And what in the Mother’s name was that? His rage finally arrived in full force, blocking out all other force as his fists involuntarily clenched into fists. Am I sick? Am I mentally Ill? I must be. Nobody who isn’t insane would blow their chance at the most prestigious, highly-accredited Medallion. It was supposed to be a sure thing! Endless nights of study… and I knew all those answers.
He really did. His head still hurt, still pushed at the insides of his skull and made itself known, but thinking back, every question had been easily solvable. Just a simple application of a memorised formula, or simple logic based on some premises. The sudden burst of clarity he was having felt like a curse.
Or maybe it just feels like that in retrospect. Why did this happen to me? He thought, dejected, What does this mean? What will I do…
He thought about his situation, about the bag lying discarded an arm’s length from his side. The last book nestled within. Well, there is still one thing I have left today. The thought wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was something solid to cling to. It gave him a destination and a time: Beneath the bell tower, twelve O’clock noon.
He almost patted his front down with his hands, before recoiling at the vomit and using a bunch of leaves instead. The coat had to change, so he pulled it off and stuffed it beneath the books in his bag. With his slightly unwieldy pack in tow, Alix had the courage to make his way out of the bush. He was aware of how he likely looked—and his headache gave him no respite—but there were still no gardeners when he poked his head out, so he took that as a good sign.
Camherst Academy’s bell tower was in the centre of the grounds, as any respectable bell tower should be. Making his way there earned him some strange looks. But none from anyone he recognised from the science exam. Either they were all still back in the Churchill hall—which Alix figured was because the three hours still weren’t up—or he simply wasn’t recognising any of them, which almost managed to make him cover his face with his hands.
A choked sob of shame still came out of his throat when he thought about it too hard.
Moving through propped-open oak doors, Alix headed through the foyer and found a student liaison directing him up a wrought-iron staircase. It led to a spacious waiting area on the second floor where a series of chairs were set up outside a closed door. Magecraft had a one-on-one examination, making the Medallion tests much more spaced out than some like the sciences.
An assistant outside the door looked up from a crossword puzzle in the paper. Alix explained that he was early, and was wondering if he could do the practical anytime soon, rather than waiting until noon.
“Hm? Oh, certainly. No one else is due here until half–twelve today, anyway”
That was easier than expected. And no questions asked. “So should I just take a seat?” He wondered aloud, “Or…”
“No no,” he gave a distracted wave, already focused on the newspaper again, “Just give the door a knock. Joshua should be set up already. But hold on, give me your name so I can mark it.”
Alix was already at the door and half-stumbled his way back.
“Alix Lanyura. Yes, with the ‘Y-U’, thanks.” His voice still sounded unusually scratchy in his throat, though maybe he was just imagining it. He would still appreciate a cup of water.
Leaving the assistant to his word games, Alix gave a sheepish knock. He felt naked. He was usually so prepared for things, but he’d spared the magic Medallion no thought during those late nights studying for sciences. A muffled voice came through the door for him to enter.
A smell washed over him as he pushed through the oaken doors: A faint tinge of lard offset by beeswax and smoke, along with the distinct addition of a few extras. As Alix surveyed the room, it was obvious that the smell came from all the candles. There were at least a hundred, stacked atop the desks and drawers that lined the walls. Even more sat neatly inside glass-fronted cabinets.
Professor Ibil—Joshua Ibil, apparently, though that name made him sound younger than he looked—sat in a tall armchair behind a desk. A stool sat across from him for a student. Alix kept his face placid while he cringed a little inside. He’d hoped the examiner wouldn’t be the same moustached man who’d attempted to teach him magic for the past two years. There shouldn’t be any bias, but his magic teachers never seemed to like him.
Alix couldn’t say he blamed them.
“Oh, how surprising. Mr Lanyura, you’re early. I assume you have it sorted with my assistant?” Ibil said, continuing after being assured that just Alix was fine, and that the paperwork was sorted, “Well Alix, as I am sure you’re aware, I’ll be assessing your energy control with you casting a spell. Please take the Beacon from the table and prepare your Nexus while I arrange the apparatus.
The Beacon was smooth and bonelike as Alix gripped it in a fist. As long as two fingers and as thick as a thumb, the small rod was a tool through which all magic had to be channelled in order to do spells. Trying to command energy could lead to external injury or severe brain damage, of which he’d only heard horror stories. It was a pain, however, as Beacon rods were expensive and Alix’s family wouldn’t afford him one. He’d always been fine with that, honestly. Because the purchase would only be worthwhile if he wanted to sell his services as a mage, which he absolutely did not.
Sinking deep into the core of his mind—the Nexus, where magic could be sensed—Alix formed the connection with the Beacon. He felt it at the edge of his consciousness, ready to channel a spell. His terrible headache abated a little, as if sated by the promise of magic. Across from him, Ibil finished setting up a candle on a saucer and a vial of water on a stand.
“The task is simply this,” The professor explained, “Using the one candle provided, heat up the water as quickly and efficiently as possible, without extinguishing the candle. I’ll be monitoring the water’s temperature and any leaking heat. You may begin as soon as your Nexus is fortified.” He reached out and lit the candle.
Alix took a deep breath and focused his efforts on the task at hand. The candle had been lit, gently stirring to life just a few inches from where his hands were clasped. The water vial mirrored it on the other side. He’d done heat conversion, maybe once or twice before. He had to take the warmth, pour it through the Beacon and then into either the glass of the vial or the water in it, since one would heat the other.
He might have to ‘cheat’ by just heating the glass, as he remembered how difficult it was to push the energy through a solid barrier. Ibil would notice it, sure, but it would still work. He would still pass. The actions themselves were never super hard, and as he brought his mind to bear, the fog pressing behind his temples receded yet again. Unable to contemplate the sudden change, Alix began casting the magic.
But this time, not only was the magic just easy, but it completely made sense in Alix’s mind. The energy was pulled from around the bare candle flame, sucked through the Beacon and sent into the vial of water. He didn’t even think he was heating the glass much. And after thirty seconds or so he saw condensation begin to form inside the vial.
“Stop,” Alix’s examiner said, a frown contorting his moustache downwards, “Try it now.” He moved the water about half a metre away to the other side of the desk.
Alix resumed, but felt barely any difference. One metre had been his limit before but the energy still flowed freely. And Alix hadn’t had this clear a mind all day. Ibil raised his own Beacon closer to his face, likely using some spell to discern the subred light that came from hot objects. His only action was to move the candle half a metre in the opposite direction as well.
Now the bridge was harder to maintain. Alix felt his Nexus flounder as the distance between source, Beacon and output was too great. He could keep it going, as it wasn’t straining, but Ibil was finally nodding as if only now seeing the wasted heat that he expected. And as predicted, Alix watched as the water cooled to only a few degrees above room temperature.
He dropped the spell, wincing as his headache returned in full force. Though… maybe it’s not quite as bad as before? But he couldn’t tell. Before he could investigate, Professor Ibil was speaking to him.
“Alix, you say? Now, my memory must be failing me, as I recall a young man named Alix barely half this capable at magecraft just two months ago! I’m not supposed to divulge this type of information, but I can easily see that you earned your magic Medallion with high distinction! We’ll make a mage out of you yet. At the beginning you achieved almost twenty degrees per minute!”
He shook his head, as if twenty celsius per minute wasn’t slower than the average kettle. But how much energy does a kettle consume? It’s almost certainly more than one candle-worth. Though kettles heated significantly more water, too.
It was something, Alix supposed.
“Now young man,” the professor said, wagging a finger in warning, “You may have performed exceptionally well today, but don’t go doing anything stupid like cast without a Beacon. You’ll get your chance when you apply to the University to study magecraft. You will do it, right?
Alix began to speak, to say that he definitely wouldn’t if he had his way, but he was already spoken over again.
“Wonderful, wonderful.” The man stood up from his chair, turning to put away the nearly-finished candle. “You ought to be on your way then, I suppose. Well good day!”
Alix could take an exit when he saw one. He promptly rose from his stool and left the room, gently shutting the doors so as to not draw the attention of Ibil’s assistant. He crossed the empty waiting room and descended down the bell tower.
Today was… an ordeal. He was still numb with the shock that—barring an event of divine intervention—he had completely missed any chance at earning the science Medallion. The magic Medallion was… a pathetic consolation prize, barely comparable at all. Maybe his parents would understand. He doubted it. Alix really hoped they didn’t think his mysterious headache was an excuse to fail natural philosophy—as if he wanted a mage certification.
He sighed as he looked up to the arched gates above him. Against all conviction, all expectation, he was leaving a complete failure. This is it. I leave here, never come back, and never learn anything more of natural philosophy. It’s over.
His education, his dreams, all of it.
Scowling, Alix marched out the gates. Because he was nothing if not punctual. And he’d agreed beforehand to meet with some old classmates to celebrate the end of term. He’d likely just show up and say he wasn’t feeling well—completely true—before disappearing back home. I really can’t deal with any more emotional turmoil today.
Alix took a left after exiting the school, following a neat path that meandered between blocky mortared buildings. Crownside Lacurna was heavily administrative, containing the political and resource centres of the city. People did still live there, however, and those people did need to eat. There were fewer people on the streets with the sun so high in the sky, but the thoroughfare Alix headed to—Lacer’s way—was still relatively busy, boasting some of the only restaurants and cafe’s this side of the Kell. Alix figured he could perhaps enjoy the food one last time. He would come to Crownside much less now after completing school.
Alix saw the opening in front of him, taking a turn towards Lacer’s way. He saw his goal just at the opening of the alley, where people bustled past on horses or in carriages. Then something caught his eye. Just out of view, like he was seeing something happening over his shoulder, despite not actually looking at it. Perplexed, Alix spun around. Nothing revealed itself to him. The backstreet wasn’t even as wide as his arm span. Nothing could hide from him there, even in the slight shadow.
Ha, I suppose my mind really is playing tricks on me now, he thought darkly, I need rest, he realised with a start, I really do not want anything more going wrong in my head today.
Though he peered closer, because he swore he could see a glint of something at the intersection of some mortared buildings he’d passed earlier. Stepping lightly, feet barely making noise on the cobblestones, he crept closer. His headache spiked. And Alix suddenly felt a flare of something other brush over his perception before whatever he’d been looking at dissolved in front of his eyes.
He’d fallen for a ruse. It was too late.
An eerie sensation came over him—like a massive hand clamping around his consciousness. He couldn’t feel his limbs by the time he crumpled to the ground.