In a corner of the continent of Finth, in a city known as the “City of Silver” fifty children aged twelve to eighteen sat in straight back chairs. The wood worn over years of use. Books stacked neatly on the tables ranged from the strategies of war to the economics of the Empire. Maps covered the walls except for a chalk board in the front. Fifty children currently arguing about what cultivation was the best. This was a common argument, but was nonetheless pointless.

A tall man with Dark brown eyes stood staring out over his class. His dirty blonde shoulder length hair was pulled back into a braid as if to accentuate the studded gems that dotted his left eyebrow. Three sparkling purple gems. In his hands he held a wooden rod. Four foot long and as thick as the handle on a long sword. Its ashy brown wood showed signs of abuse. Looking out over his class he shook his head. He knew this argument well, he even participated when he was a child. It could go on for hours. Gripping the rod in his hand he stepped up to the nearest table.

WHACK!

The sound reverberated around the room. Everyone in attendance stopped arguing and immediately turned to the front. Backs straight and heads held high. This is a sound that everyone knew all too well, the sound of their instructor losing his patience. The tables were arranged by age group. Twelve to fifteen year olds sat at the furthest table, sixteen and seventeen year olds sat at a middle table, and the third and final table seated the eighteen year old student’s right near the front. The class had a total of fifty students, only five of which were eighteen.

As a student aged their level of growth would be apparent. Thus, one could find the most students sitting at the furthest table. When a student’s growth would stagnate the city school would send them to continue their education at home. This was basically the city telling them that they would never be a cultivator. Many children would then find a job or work on the family farm. The amount of children able to cultivate after being sent home was few. Seeing that he had their attention he raised the wooden rod again, wind whistling as it fell at high speed.

WHACK!

The second sound was deafening. The first time he smacked the table was to get their attention, the second time was to hold it.

“Once again you devolve into arguing. If you’re going to argue at least do it over the right material.” The instructor yelled with a deep booming voice. A thin child with a smirk sitting at the furthest table spoke out, “Mr. Stokes, isn’t it true that observers have the most powerful magic?” A few of the children could be seen either shaking their heads or nodding in agreement.

“We’ve all learned of the types of magic that can be learned to a lesser extent, let me ask you, would you rather have the ability to burn your opponents to the ground, leap over the enemy line with blades so fast that the human eye can’t see them or save a friend from the brink of death?” murmurs could be heard throughout the class, everyone seeming to have their own thoughts regarding what would best.

“That question is hard to answer sir” a different child spoke up, this child was one of the five sitting at the front. He wore dirt covered clothes that marked him as a farmer’s child. “If one could actually choose their destiny I would assume most would choose to be a cleric. Although I have stepped onto the path of the warrior I would give anything to save a loved one’s life” He nodded as he finished as if signifying the importance of his words.

“Thank you Lynn” Mr. Stokes said as he turned back to look at the thin kid at the back. “The path you walk is yours alone and if . . . IF you awaken to a talent, you must put all your effort into that talent. Nurture that spark, for it is the only one you will be given” He said slowly.

The importance of his words punctuated with the silence that followed. Every kid in the class began to think about those words. A single spark, one that could be extinguished if left unkindled for too long. Their introspection was abruptly interrupted with three deep chimes from the central clock tower. “That is all for today, remember to meditate tonight, don’t let that spark disappear. Only you can keep it alive” Mr. Stokes said as he walked to the front of the class, opening the door.

Fifty students rushed out of the classroom. Out of these fifty students, only three were on the path to cultivation. This was a relatively low number, as it could be said that one out of every ten students would awaken to a path. Three students was a low number, but these three students were extraordinary. Three students on three separate paths.

Of these three students one was a farmer’s child. He grew up on the outskirts of Rosewood tending to the fields every evening. His muscular arms were testament to his hard work. He had a scar running the length of his left arm, a reminder from youth of the dangers the forest held. The tallest of his class, standing Six feet and six inches. Many of the taller students were clumsy, but he walked with a grace not usually seen in such a tall teenager. Almost as though he were born tall and had time to adjust. He wore two bronze bracelets on his right wrist. The metal twisted around itself many times. The two bracelets signified that he was currently a second bronze warrior. Just a beginner in the path, but at eighteen years old considered to be well above average. His homespun clothes stained by dirt over the years from tending to the crops. One of three, Lynn Wright. As he walked down the steps to exit the building he cleared the final 5 steps in a quick jump, landing with a heavy thud next to a short girl with long blonde hair.

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“Sissy, why didn’t you speak up at the end? You of all people should know the power clerics hold” He asked, looking down into the beautiful girls sky blue eyes. She glanced up with a smile on her face. “It isn’t my place to decide which cultivation is the most important, Lynn. I think we all can agree that they each have their merits.” With that she turned and started walking towards the city. Lynn quickly sped up to catch her.

The second of the three. Long blonde hair trailed behind her in golden wisps. Eyes the color of the midday sky that always held a hint of a smile. She had olive skin seen often in those from Eastern Ambrinia. Her family were refugees from the Lutheran wars that battered the continent for 20 years. Although she herself was born in Rosewood, her parents and grandmother remember the war with clarity. As she walked down the dusty streets the sun bounced off the medallion on her chest. The silver medallion had a single yellow stripe down the middle signifying that she was a first yellow cleric. Her clothes pristine, without a hint of dust. Colorful robes, loose and flowing as often seen from those hailing from Ambrinia. One of the three, Cecilia Pitera. As she looked down the street she noticed a boy with his nose in a book. Walking straight for the corner of a building. A smirk could be seen creeping up her face.

“Mikel, look where you’re going before you break your nose” Cecilia yelled, as she continued walking onwards.

“Maybe it would straighten it back out this time” Lynn interjected, laughing to himself. Falling in line behind Cecilia. “A little bit of pain can be a great teaching tool, you know” Lynn said under his breath to Cecilia.

“Thank you Sissy, I can’t seem to put this book down.” Mikel said as he changed directions, walking towards the other two.

The last of the three. A skinny young man, with dark brown skin. Standing six feet tall. Always known to be carrying at least three books on his person. The dark skin made it clear his ancestors came from the Corvora Empire, though the past six generations have called Rosewood home. Lines crossed the top of his forehead from years of contemplation. In fact, when he reads he is known to have a scowl permanently on his face as though he is contradicting the very thing he is reading. A very smart young man, like his parents and those before them. On his face rests a pair of silver glasses, this is important if only to prove his families wealth. Only the upper class can afford such luxuries. His family runs the second largest bank in Rosewood, Sheed and Sons. Over chocolate colored eyes rests two beautiful yellow gems. Piercing his left eyebrow to signify that he is a second citrine observer. The last of the three, Mikel Sheed. When he finally broke through on the observer path he was told that he could forgo the gems. This was his initial plan until his parents forbad it. It had been three generation since the Sheed family had produced a cultivator and they were already slipping behind their competitors. To appease his family he pierced his left eyebrow with the first gem followed soon after by the second.

The three cultivators continued to walk towards the center of the city. The buildings they passed were mostly stone, though every once in a while they would pass a wooden building. The city of Rosewood was one of the more affluent cities, as the silver mine produced a majority of the silver for the empire.

The city sat at the northern peak of the continent, with a port connecting to the Red Sea. To the north was the Rosewood forest, stretching all the way to the coast. In this forest all manner of beasts and monsters could be found. Many new cultivators attempted pilgrimages within the forest to train and look for ruins. This was the current plan for the three cultivators that were now walking side by side down the streets of Rosewood.

As they passed the city library Mikel finally glanced up from his book “Hey, I need to stop in here and get this book back. I’ve had it out almost a week.” He said, turning to the other two.

“No problem, I need to get back and help dad. He hasn’t been feeling well and I don’t want him overdoing things. I’ll see you all tomorrow” Lynn said, with a wave he walked toward s the southern part of the city.

As the other two watched him leave, Mikel looked down at Cecilia “I’m worried about him. When we leave he won’t be able to help his parents on the farm. I think it’s going to be hard for him.” He said with a frown on his face.

“He knows it will be difficult, but he’s looking towards the future. The stronger he gets, the more his family will benefit.” Cecilia said, staring towards the back of Lynn. “I’m going to stop by the temple before I head home. I’ll see you tomorrow Mikel.” She said with a wave, at that she continued walking deeper into city.

As Mikel stood there in front of the library, he pondered just how difficult it would be for him to leave his family. Whereas Lynn’s family would lose a vital member of their farm, Mikel couldn’t say for sure he was really needed at the bank. In fact, Cecilia often helped her family at the market. Perhaps he was the only one that wouldn’t be missed. With a shake of the head he turned and walked into the library.