Nero’s upper torso sprung from the bed layered with a coat of sweat. He’d fallen asleep late last night while struggling to sharpen his knife on a whetstone. The innkeeper had lent it to him. The knife, no matter how much he sharpened it, barely reached the qualifications for a butterknife. Yet still, he kept at it through the night. How he managed to crawl himself into bed remained a mystery.
Nero’s ears twitched as the shouting that woke him grew louder. The window was caked in layers of grime and sat right above the bed’s headboard. He glanced out of the room and bared witness to the flash of fireworks in the morning sky. He'd seen something similar once before when Jayce, his overseer at the compound, taught them how to use a flare artifact. The sight of red and purple flashing in the sky still astonished him as much as any magic he’d ever seen.
Below, in the plaza the inn opened up to, a crowd gathered around a carriage. The carriage painted all white, had the symbol of a scepter wrapped in a rose. Nero had the symbol of the crown etched in his memory from all his preparatory lessons. The carriage was surrounded by soldiers clad in armor. The doors to the carriage opened up, and two inquisitors stepped out. They wore their signature navy blue with white trimmed vestments.
“Right on time. Just like he said, they would be.”
Nero pushed himself out of bed and scanned the room for the washcloth the innkeeper gave him. The bed took up the entirety of the room. Only a thin strip of wood on the right side of the room gave him enough room to stand. A small pool of water sat in the bin beside the bed with a thin washcloth floating in it. The old beige cloth had begun unraveling at the outer stitch. He grabbed the cloth and hung his clothes on the edge of the bed to breathe. Nero had grown used to the ripe smell of sweat, but this set of clothes came brand new, and he hoped to keep the smell at bay for as long as possible.
He washed himself down the best he could manage. The warmer it got, the more oily his skin got, and he hated the stinky smell it left. He slid his clothes back on. His shirt used to be pure white, and his pants were a simple brown that matched his skin. Both felt better than anything he’d ever worn. It came as a perk for getting chosen for the mission.
His room opened to the first floor. The hallway held six rooms. Three on each side. He made his way down the hall and stepped into the main entrance. The innkeeper, who doubled as the barkeep, sat on a stool near his bar, smoking on a pipe.
“Excuse me, sir, what’s going on outside?” Nero planned to stick to the script the best he could. His accent wasn’t as good as he had hoped, but he didn’t have much time to practice before the council told him he was leaving the compound. Nobody in the village knew his identity other than Mr. Sylvanella. If everything went according to plan, he’d be on his way to the capital with no questions asked.
“The inquisitors have finally arrived to test everyone who’s come of age. They should be out of here soon enough.”
“Wow! I have always wanted to see a mage!” Nero did his best to portray a feigned shock. He could play the part of an actor. He had before, and he would have to in the future.
The innkeeper snickered at Nero’s shock. “Don’t get your hopes up, boy. They may arrive with a big escort and fireworks, but they are here on the king’s business. I wouldn’t recommend bothering them. You should probably head back to Mr. Sylvanella’s farm. He is probably waiting for you.”
“Do you think the inquisitors will choose anyone?”
“Ah, I doubt it. I can only remember one kid qualifying, and I have lived here all my life. If I remember correctly, it was the Loal’s fourth son, who died soon after in the service. They’ll be off to the next village before long.”
“I think I’ll go take a look anyway.” Nero walked out the door to join the crowd loitering around the carriage. A few children climbed onto their parents' backs to peer over the crowd. Those less vertically inclined resigned to stand on the tips of their toes, Nero amongst their number. The crowd murmured amongst themselves as the soldiers issued orders.
“Get back! Everyone get back!” The soldiers continued to shout until a giant circle soon formed. Nero could now see the proceedings of the inquisitors at the center of the plaza. His eyes followed the man and woman as they pulled a giant blue orb out of the carriage. Nero slipped past an old woman in the crowd to move toward a thinner part of the crowd to get a better view.
The male inquisitor had a lean build and skin the color of tree bark. His face held a stoic expression that contrasted the smile plastered across his partner's face. She acted his opposite with a cheerful smile and eye-catching pale skin. Nero had never seen anyone so pale, and judging by the looks of the other villagers, he wasn’t the only one. He’d heard stories of people with pale skin and white hair on the Eastern part of the continent, but he assumed those stories weren’t real.
“Hello, everyone! We are happy to be here on a mission from the crown to test all young men and women who have come of age. Those who pass will have the chance to become a mage of the empire! All those aged fourteen, please step forward for the test,” the female inquisitor said. She talked with an unusual lisp, and her tongue hung out of her mouth as if it was too big.
Nero scanned the crowd for anyone who looked similar in age to him, and his eyes landed on two boys. An old man had placed his hands on their shoulders and pushed them forward into the circle. They both had fearful expressions as they approached the carriage. They moved with a tender gait.
“We have sent word to one more child on the Sloven’s farm, so could you please wait for her to arrive,” the older man, who pushed the two boys forward, said.
“Oh, that’s amazing! The two of you come here!” The female inquisitor motioned them forward, and they slowly approached the carriage. “What are your names?” The two mumbled something that Nero couldn't hear from where he stood. The male inquisitor stayed close to the carriage with the palm-sized orb tucked under his arm.
Nero kept his eyes on the blue orb and slowly approached the carriage. One of the soldiers reached out and stopped his advance. “Are you fourteen? You look a little small for a fourteen-year-old.”
“Yes, sir,” Nero’s heart pounded, deafening the sounds of the crowd from reaching his ears. He’d told himself when the moment came that he wouldn’t be nervous, but his heart wouldn’t listen to what his brain told him to do.
The soldier looked past him and called out to the crowd. “Can any of you confirm this boy's age?”
Nero looked at the faces of the crowd behind him, and they held looks of shock and confusion. “The villagers probably don’t know me because I just started working as a farmhand at Mr. Sylvanella’s farm a few paces up the hill,” Nero said. The guard looked back toward the two inquisitors. The female inquisitor was locked in a conversation with the two boys, but the other inquisitor saw the scene and motioned me forward.
“Go on then,” the soldier said.
Nero stepped past the guard and walked toward the male inquisitor. His demeanor stood out as standoffish, but the female inquisitor seemed content to talk with the two boys present. Both of the farm boys had smiles on their faces and couldn’t stop themselves from talking.
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“What’s your name,” The male inquisitor asked. The man’s tone was stern.
“Nero, sir.”
“I am inquisitor Hannibal and over there is inquisitor Helga.” Hannibal nodded his head toward his companion. “Why can’t any of the villagers vouch for you? That’s quite strange to find in a small village like this.”
“I just moved here, sir, to help out on Mr. Sylvanella’s farm.”
“Where were you before the farm?”
“I grew up orphaned at a young age in the town of Lyis. It’s not that far from here. Mr. Sylvanella allowed me to pull myself out of the gutter, and I took it.”
“How noble of him.”
“Yes, it was, sir.” Nero waited for Hannibal to continue, but the man simply stared at him. Nero refused to look away. This man was no different than Stavos or any other mage up in the mountains. Mages are like predators who sense fear. Nero would do his best to show none. The uncomfortable gaze lasted long enough for Nero to swallow his spit four times.
“How old were you when you became an Orphan?”
“Around five years old, sir.”
“A five-year-old surviving in a town like Lyis by himself? I heard the north gets quite cold in the winter, alleyways especially.” Hannibal inched forward toward Nero as he spoke.
“I made do with what I had, and people helped me along the way.”
“People like who?”
“The people who ran the orphanage. Miss Havisham was always kind to me.”
“What would you say if I told you I thought that you were lying?”
“I have no reason to lie.”
“A person never has a good reason to lie. Sometimes they just do it and tell themselves it’s the truth.”
The other two boys and Helga had concluded their conversation, and their eyes were glancing over at the conversation. Nero remained silent. Whenever he got in trouble, he found that sometimes the best way out of the problem called for silence. He’d already exhausted his script, and rambling made his guilty heart stutter off its normal beat.
“Leave him alone Han. He’s just a kid looking to have his test. It won’t hurt to oblige him. It will only take us a minute,” Helga said. Nero’s heartbeat calmed as he heard Helga come to his defense. Backup plans weren’t a luxury he had.
“We’re inquisitors Helga. It’s our job to ask questions. If you’d rather be working the borders, then that’s fine. I’d finally be able to get some peace and quiet.” Hannibal scowled at Helga and stepped away from Nero. “You three gather around so we can do this test quickly. We have more villages to stop at today.”
Nero got in line behind the two village boys. The council guaranteed Nero’s results, so he was content with being third in line. The village children, however, had nearly fought each other to be first in line for the test. He didn’t see the point since they both would go either way. It might be a point of pride or recognition to be the first among the villagers. In the compound, pride mattered, so the sentiment to be first wasn’t lost on him.
“The test is rather simple,” Helga said. She snatched the orb out of Hannibal’s hand and lifted it up. “This is a magical artifact recovered from a rift. We use it to determine if a person has a large enough mana heart to hold a Cryptic inside.” Helga lifted the hand, not carrying the orb. A tiny snake slid out of her sleeve and wrapped around her wrist like a bracelet. The two boys in the front scrambled backward, nearly pushing Nero over.
“Watch out,” Nero said. His toe got stepped on. Helga transferred the orb to her hand with the snake on her wrist. Barely audible hissing sounds came from the snake.
“You first. Put your hand on the orb. It will only take a minute,” Helga said. One of the boys stepped forward. He reached his hand out toward the orb but retracted it quickly after hearing another hiss.
“Don’t be scared; she doesn’t bite.” The village boy reached out again and placed his full palm on the orb. The orb became transparent and little balls of light began to swirl around. Nero had done a similar test after his surgery using a jar of special water. The water changed from a transparent liquid to orange-tinted water. His overseer didn’t tell him exactly what the color represented, but he knew it would be enough to ensure the inquisitors took him.
After a moment, the lights stopped swirling around, and the orb returned to its original state. The village boy looked up expectantly at the two inquisitors. They looked at each other, and Helga said, “Unfortunately, you will not be a mage, but I wish you fortune in your future endeavors.”
The boy’s head fell to the ground. He ran back toward the crowd and into the arms of his parents. The parents didn’t share the boy's sadness. If anything, Nero thought they had looks of joy. The other boy, seeing his friend's failure, lost his smile. They’d probably dreamed of being mages together and going off on adventures. The villagers didn’t know the truth about mages like Nero. They were not some mythical beings that should peasants should place on a pedestal. They were selfish people who used their powers to keep everyone else in check. If something bad happened to you, then mages caused it. It had proven truer than not in his experience.
“Good luck,” Helga said with a smile. The village boy took his turn and placed his palm on the orb. The lights began to swirl again. Hannibal yawned as the process continued and walked away from the group. He walked toward one of the soldiers, gave him a pat on the shoulder, and started up a conversation about food from what Nero could overhear.
“I’m sorry, but magic is not in your future. I wish you a fortune in your future endeavors.” Nero returned to the test and saw that the second boy had failed. His turn had finally come. The young village boy returned to join the crowd, leaving Nero alone with Helga. She wasn’t that much taller than him, but he still had to crane his head up to look her in the eye. He’d always been shorter than others growing up, but he still wanted to look them in the eyes. Helga’s eyes were dark brown.
“It’s your turn now,” Helga said. She stretched the blue orb towards Nero. He placed his palm on the orb's surface, and the lights appeared again. An exuberant warmth swelled in his chest where his implanted mana heart was. Tiny lights from the orb flickered and changed to orange as they had for the water. The color shined bright enough for all to see. A look of shock came to Helga’s face, and the murmurs among the crowd rose into full-blown shouts.
“What happened? Why did it turn orange?” Before she could answer his question, the snake coiled around her wrist, lunged toward his hand, and bit down hard. “What the hell!” Nero reeled back and fell flat on his bottom. He grabbed his wrist with the opposite hand and watched as two tiny trickles of blood flowed out of his palm. When he looked up from the bite, Hannibal stood beside Helga, studying him.
“That’s a bit of a surprise. We don’t usually get any commoners with potential this far from the major cities. You have a mana heart. It’s weak, but it is there,” Helga said. She wrapped the blue orb and placed it back in the carriage. Hannibal stood over Nero, watching him. His hand was on the hilt of a single-edged sword made of black metal. It had not been on his hip when Nero first saw the inquisitors. He was wary of the blade, but the inquisitor did not seem like he was going to attack.
“So I’m a mage?”
“It seems like it,” Hannibal said. Hannibal’s face held an intense scowl. Nero couldn’t distinguish if it were anger or something else. The inquisitor's eyebrows were permanently furrowed.
“What happens now?”
“We will need to prove your origins. If that goes well, you will be given the chance to attend the academy so that you may better serve your king.”
“Control the crowd, Wabe,” Helga yelled. The villagers were inching forward and craning past the circle of soldiers to see what was happening. Hearing Helga’s words, The soldiers pulled out their swords and raised them high to keep the crowd from drawing in close. Her snake was no longer on her wrist.
Nero glanced down at the bite mark. The two incisions were gone. All that was left was two parallel strands of damp blood on his hand. He flexed his hand and realized that the stinging pain was also gone.
“Don’t worry about the bite. Harold isn't poisonous,” Helga said.
“Why did it bite me?”
“Harold is he, not it. He bit you so I could estimate the size of your mana heart. Sometimes a person’s mana heart is too large to host a cryptic. Without a cryptic, you won’t be able to perform magic on your own. This is the case for most people who have mana hearts.”
“What's a cryptic?” Nero had more questions than answers when it came to magic. The order’s mages rarely spoke to low-level initiates unless it was to dole out punishments, and even after he got selected for the mission, the council kept in the dark about most ongoings. They gave him a review of the basics, but Only those who fully completed their trials were rewarded with the knowledge hidden in the library. He was still an initiate. The council withheld topics like the outside world, so his mind overflowed with curiosity.
“They are beasts that originate from the rift worlds. Mages protect the citizens from beasts slipping through and causing havoc in our world. You need a cryptic to do that. Think of a cryptic as a conduit that allows us to affect the physical world. It turns a mage's body into a weapon instead of forcing us to channel through an artifact.”
“Helga now's not the time for a lesson in magical theory. He will learn if he is admitted.” Hannibal released the hilt of his sword, and the blade disappeared in a flash. Only the hilt remained on his waistband. He reached out his hand, and Nero took it, pulling himself up.
“Put your hands out,” Hannibal said. Nero complied, and the inquisitor slapped silver bracelets with a thin interlinking cord on his wrist. “We will speak no more of our proceedings.” Hannibal turned to one of the guards, dutifully watching the crowd outside the window, and said, “Take him and put him with the others. Helga and I will investigate.”