The professor cleared his throat, adjusted his spectacles, and peered down at the ledger before him.

‘Elitrea Actros!’ he announced, his voice firm and resonating throughout the chamber.

The room fell silent, all eyes scanning for the individual whose name had been called. For a moment, no one stepped forward.

‘Elitrea Actros, please come forward,’ the professor repeated.

A soft gulp broke the tension, and a short, timid-looking woman hesitantly stepped out of the crowd. Her movements were slow and deliberate, her entire body trembling as if she’d been drenched and left to freeze in the winds outside.

‘Your wand, if you please,’ the professor instructed, gesturing towards a crate nearby.

Elitrea shuffled over, her footsteps almost inaudible against the stone floor. She reached the crate and, with visible reluctance, placed her oakwood wand inside.

‘Your entry token as well,’ the professor continued, motioning to a second crate. ‘Leave that as well.’

Her hands fumbled briefly before she retrieved the token, depositing it with a quiet clink. The professor watched her with a neutral gaze, awaiting her compliance before turning his attention back to the process.

‘Now, show me your harvest,’ the professor said, leaning forward slightly. ‘Whatever you wish to present, I will exchange for something of equal value. Mind you, to pass the admission, only a single offering is required.’

Elitrea hesitated, her face betraying her discomfort. Slowly, she reached into her bag and withdrew a modest bundle of feathers – no more than five.

The professor adjusted his spectacles and examined the offering. ‘Hm, small but sufficient. Approved,’ he remarked, scribbling a note in the ledger that likely read Pass. ‘I will grant you 20 lunaris per feather.’

A murmur rippled through the crowd. For those who had been swindled by Urael and paid exorbitant sums for even one feather, the valuation was an added sting to their frustration.

‘Trash harvests yield trash rewards,’ one of Urael’s lackeys whispered, their tone laced with mockery.

Elitrea, however, seemed resigned to her fate. She accepted the coins silently, her expression a mixture of relief and embarrassment, and slipped back into the crowd, eager to fade from the spotlight.

‘Next!’ the professor called out sharply, his tone cutting through the rising chatter. ‘Maro Bedlen, step forward!’

A man emerged confidently from the crowd, his movements brisk and assured. Without hesitation, he handed over his wand and token, placing them in the respective crates. He then carefully laid his materials on the counter before the professor.

The professor examined the items with an approving nod. ‘Ah! A topi’s beak and a juvenile diallos’ tail. Very good. Approved,’ he declared, signing Maro’s name in the ledger. ‘Your rewards: a potion and a chunk of odh stone.’

Though the professor didn’t elaborate on the nature of the odh stone, murmurs of recognition rippled through the crowd. Those familiar with such items understood its value, and even Riniock, though feigning disinterest, recognised its significance.

Magick relied on the expansion of energy maegi called odh. Naturally, an odh stone, infused with latent reserves of this energy, could be consumed by a maegi to restore their own depleted reserves. It was a prized tool, especially for those who regularly engaged in demanding magickal practices.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Most of the gathered applicants knew the significance of an odh stone, but they were equally aware of its dual role as a trade commodity, often more valuable than silver or gold.

‘Excuse me, professor,’ Maro asked hesitantly, interrupting the silence. ‘Could you tell me the properties of the potion?’

The professor’s lips curled into a playful smile. ‘Ah, I’ll leave that for you to figure out. Consider it a challenge.’

Though visibly disappointed, Maro nodded, determined to uncover the potion’s secrets himself.

After Maro’s evaluation, a procession of applicants followed. Their harvests varied, some meagre and some more impressive. Then, with a smug strut, Urael stepped forward. His collection was staggering: verdack feathers, topi beaks, falufrax tails, and more – all pilfered from the less fortunate. His rewards were equally extravagant, enough to spark envy amongst the crowd.

Those he had swindled watched with tight jaws as their own scant rewards – a handful of lunaris – were handed out. Meanwhile, the few Riniock had helped wore small, relieved smiles.

Finally, it was Riniock’s turn.

‘Riniock Ev Tolgir!’ the professor called out, his voice echoing through the chamber.

An unusual silence fell over the crowd as his name was spoken. Heads turned, and murmurs quieted. From within the mass of applicants, Riniock emerged, his expression calm but purposeful.

He handed over his wand and token without hesitation, clearly eager to be rid of them.

‘Now then, let’s see here…’ the professor peered at Riniock’s harvest, his expression turning to one of mild surprise. ‘Well, well. Quite the assortment. It seems Mister Floderance isn’t the only one with significant means in this cohort.’

The professor began listing items, his tone increasingly impressed. ‘If my count is accurate, there are 109 verdack feathers. My word! That alone is worth over 2,000 lunaris!’

A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd.

‘There’s an intact topi – very rare, indeed. That warrants an additional potion. And here we have...a falufrax tail, perfectly severed at the tip. Exceptional! That earns you a spell scroll.’

Then the professor froze, his gaze fixed on an item resting atop the pile. It was a large antler, flawless and unblemished.

‘Mister Riniock,’ the professor said, his tone suddenly more serious. ‘Do you know what this is?’

‘I do,’ Riniock replied confidently. ‘It’s the antler of a kezok.’

Gasps rippled through the room.

‘Impressive. The kezok is an elusive beast. This material’s value is extraordinary, and its applications in crafting are priceless.’ The professor’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Are you certain you wish to offer it?’

‘I am,’ Riniock replied, his voice steady.

The professor nodded, respecting the decision. ‘Very well. Since you are aware of its significance, there’s no need for further discussion.’

Rising from his seat, the professor reached for his personal bag – a relic of his own acolyte days. Unlike the applicants’ simple pouches, this was a quasi-bottomless bag, capable of holding treasures beyond imagination.

‘As recognition for your remarkable harvest, I’ll grant you the rare privilege of choosing an item from my collection,’ the professor announced. ‘Whatever you pull from this bag will be yours to keep.’

‘Damn, lucky basterd,’ someone muttered, the sentiment shared by many.

Riniock approached the professor’s bag without hesitation. ‘Then I will not be polite, professor.’ His hand plunged into the enchanted bag, fingers brushing against an array of mysterious objects. He explored carefully, letting instinct guide him.

Satisfied at last, he closed his hand and withdrew it. Resting in his palm was a simple ring – plain, unadorned, and entirely unremarkable in appearance.

The professor leaned forward slightly, his face adopting a deliberately unimpressed expression. ‘Well, it seems your luck has failed you this time,’ he said with a note of disappointment.

Riniock inclined his head politely, gathering the rest of his rewards before turning to leave. As he did, a voice resonated in his mind – a calm, measured tone unmistakably belonging to the professor.

‘This ring is quite useful. Use it well.’

Riniock’s steps faltered for the briefest moment as he processed the meaning. The professor’s feigned disappointment had been a deliberate act, shielding him from undue attention and possible envy from the others. Grateful for the gesture, Riniock resumed his stride, careful to show no outward reaction.

Though he hadn’t included the two dozen lidthrag fangs in his offering – an intentional omission to avoid suspicion when Odrean’s body was inevitably discovered – this string of rewards far exceeded his expectations. And he also kept a kezok antler for himself.

Once he was away from prying eyes, Riniock glanced at the ring in his hand, his curiosity piqued. The seemingly ordinary object now felt alive with potential, and he could hardly wait to uncover the secrets it held.