Immediately after he finished speaking, I grabbed the packet and opened it, revealing several tools. One was a lockpicking kit, which I put aside as a possible option. They looked flimsy, and I had never picked a lock before, but I did not hope to figure out the cipher on the board in less than an hour.

Also in the packet was a piece of parchment, with sentences written in flowing handwriting.

I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?

Damn it all. I have always hated riddles. What was the point of writing down useless information designed just to trick the reader? I stared at the paper for a few minutes, hoping the answer would come to me, but it was pointless.

The last few things in the packet were a few small bottles filled with various substances. One appeared to be some sort of crushed herbs, another a thick green liquid. I had no idea what they were for, which left them as my least favorable choice of all.

Grabbing the lockpicks, I examined them, trying to figure out how to get started. One was a thin piece of metal with a sharp, ninety-degree turn at the end, while the other tool was longer with a more gentle hook to it. I experimentally pushed the hooked tool into the opening, moving it around a bit and feeling idiotic as I did so.

After a few minutes of futile attempts, I removed the device and reevaluated my options before I was interrupted by the sound of a chair moving.

Looking over in shock, I saw Amelia stand before placing the now opened lock on the table. Professor Morell gave her a thumbs up and gestured to the door before returning to his reading. I looked back at the cipher on the board, grabbing a piece of scrap paper and attempting to decode it. I knew how ciphers worked, and in theory, I could solve a simple one, but in forty-five minutes or so? A far more difficult challenge and one I was not sure I could meet. Still, it was likely my best option for success.

The minutes slowly ticked by as I futilely attempted to solve the cipher. I was hoping it was a simple substitution, where one letter was exchanged for another while maintaining the same word length and sentence structure. But with no reference point to use as a starting point, I was lost.

What helped even less was hearing the other students each find a method to unlock their restraints. Amelia was the first, but within another ten minutes, two more apprentices walked out freely. The fourth left at around the half-hour mark, and the final two succeeded with ten minutes to spare.

I almost wanted to ask the last student to leave how they had managed it, but my pride demanded otherwise. I had already failed and had to seek assistance just to learn how to swing a staff properly. I would rather fail this test entirely than beg for help from another student.

In the end, I was the only one left with fifteen minutes until the end of the class. I had fumbled with the lockpicks before breaking them inside of the tumblers. I thought of dozens of incorrect riddle solutions, none of which fit correctly. My attempts at cracking the cipher were embarrassing, and I doubted I could figure it out even with another few hours. In short, I was up against a wall with little chance of passing this test. I noticed nervously that Professor Morell had stopped reading and was staring at me with a sly grin on his face.

I was out of choices and had to go to my backup plan, though I was not happy about it. It was far from subtle and had a good chance at failing, but I was nearly out of options and time.

With a deep breath, I placed my left hand onto the lock and dove deeply into my core. Feeling my aether mana floating aimlessly, I grabbed a few motes and dragged them down my channel before pushing them into the lock. I had hoped the power of my mana would shatter the lock, but a harmless green flash was all that I saw.

I swallowed hard and pulled around twice the mana as my first attempt, feeling a dull throbbing coming from my channels as mana flowed down them. The slightest creaking sound emanated from inside the metal, but externally it seemed unchanged. I pulled my hand back and slowly clenched and uncleaned my fingers before replacing them on the cold iron for a third time.

I had under ten minutes to succeed at this, and that drove me to take the risk, despite my misgivings. I grabbed as much mana as possible, slowly channeling it into my left hand before pushing it into the internal workings of the lock. But I did not stop with just that mana. Instead, I mentally held the energy in place before reaching into my core and pulling more mana out of its center, ignoring the throbbing pain in my channels and the slight headache from the mental strain.

I managed this three times before I was sure I had enough mana. Or more accurately, until I suspected, I was on the cusp of losing control of the mana I had already pushed into the metal. As I released the energy from my grip, a wrenching sound emanated as the square piece of metal shattered from the inside, and my mana dissolved into nothingness.

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I held back a triumphant yell, which was not particularly challenging considering the stabbing pains shooting down my left arm and the stinging as shards of metal bounced against my skin. A clapping sound came from a few feet to my side, and I whirled around to find Professor Morell standing nearby, a massive grin on his features.

“Well done! I honestly thought you would fail to escape, but you certainly proved me wrong. An interesting choice of solution, may I ask what drove you to pick that? It’s certainly not an option I thought you’d take. I was betting on the cipher, based on my first impressions.”

I considered for a second how much to admit to this master, before shrugging and deciding on honesty.

“I broke the lockpicks, and I was not sure if I could figure out either of the written solutions before the time limit ended. And I had no idea what you meant with the bottles. So, I took a risk and went with a path I was most confident would work.”

His features shifted noticeably, becoming much more serious, and the smile on his face was more of a satisfied grin this time.

“Exactly the sort of answer I wanted to hear. Of course, you also missed a far more simple answer.” He said, laughing a bit as he leaned closer, reaching under the surface of the desk.

Pulling his hand back and opening it, I saw a small key in his palm. “Under the desks, I left these keys for each restraint. Observational skills are key, forgive the pun.”

I could not help myself and laughed loudly at that, if only due to the simplicity of the answer. But I also had a burning question to ask.

“Professor Morell. Forgive me, but why offer all these solutions if the answer was quite literally under our noses?”

“A few things. First of all, I think it’s quite funny messing with new students. But it also serves an important function in our training. Espionage requires a special mindset that most mages are terrible at adopting. Adaptation and improvisation are more important than anything else. Too many students get locked into one solution and can’t change even when that solution isn’t working.”

“So this was a test to see who could and could not adapt? Then does that mean I was the only one to pass?” I asked, still a bit unsure about the point of all of this.

He snorted and shook his head. “That part of the lesson, yes, but it was also a test to see where each of you excelled. I prefer to make individual lessons and training for each student, and figuring out their gifts helps. The cipher, for instance, tested the ability to take in and process information quickly. My riddle tested the capacity to think more abstractly. The bottles, when mixed properly, form a solution particularly good at eating through metals. You possess a good mind for adaptation but not so much other important skills. Which reminds me...”

Another black bubble appeared on my desk, and another bag hit the surface with a muffled thud. I opened it to find a dozen locks, each with translucent glass sides revealing the internal workings and a small booklet a few pages long, which I assumed was instructions on how to pick a lock.

“Take those and work on them in your free time. I want you to know at least how to handle a pick by next class. Something I have learned in my career is that magic is often a good solution, but it is not always the best solution. That, and exploding chunks of metal next to your body is not a smart move if you want to live long.”

I laughed at his words and picked up the bag, before returning to my room and cleaning what felt like half a pound of dyes off my skin. When I finished, I checked myself thoroughly in the mirror for any traces before heading downstairs to meet with Amelia.

When I arrived, she was already moving through basic exercises with a quarterstaff, moving with far more grace than I thought I would ever reach. Nodding to me, she stopped what she was doing and pointed to another staff on the ground. I grabbed the weapon and moved through the basic movements Sig had taught me the previous day.

After a few minutes of warming up, Amelia walked in front of me and dropped into a ready stance.

“I’m not nearly as good a teacher as Sig, but I can still pick out any major flaws in your form. Honestly, the biggest benefit for you will be getting used to the weight and balance of a weapon. Focus primarily on defense for today too. Offense will come in time, but defense is your best bet for now.” she said, appearing far more focused than before.

I nodded and got into my ready stance, which she took several minutes correcting. We spent the next hour in light sparring, with Amelia purposefully moving us through at a much slower speed than usual. Each block I made, she carefully checked for flaws before moving to the next strike.

She claimed it was to get my muscles and body used to the movements, to ingrain them into my mind. Our sparring session went well enough, and I felt a bit more confident that I would eventually catch up to Amelia. After we finished, Amelia led the way to the same dining hall we had eaten in the previous night.

“So, what did you mean to get my body used to the moves?” I asked during dinner, having mulled over her words for a while.

With a mouth half full of chicken, Amelia answered, “To put it simply, the body remembers moves you do often enough, and you can copy them without thinking about it. Think about it like this. Do you have to debate how to hold a pen? Or turn a page in a book? Same principle with swinging a staff. In a fight, you won’t have the time or the energy to think through every move, so you use drills and sparring to get good enough to do the techniques instinctively. Makes sense?”

I nodded, seeing the logic in her words. I already found myself constantly triple-checking to make sure every strike and block was as close to perfect as possible.

“What about if someone does something I have never seen in training? Forgive me, but it seems like this sort of practice leaves holes against the unexpected.” I asked after some thinking.

Amelia nodded, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

“You aren’t wrong exactly, but that’s the point of extensive training. The idea is you get good enough at the basics that you can adapt to changing situations, even if they aren’t something you’ve seen before. And remember, Sig plans to teach us pretty much every weapon by the time we graduate. So there won’t be much you won’t have seen by then.”

I nodded, and we finished our dinner in relative silence, only broken up with occasionally idle chatter. I returned to my room and took an hour before bed, taking my usual star mint bath while reading the manual on lock picking. The throbbing in my channels had faded mostly, but I still felt it was best to take it a bit easy for tonight.

Tomorrow was a big day for my training, and I needed the rest. Professor Clemons had noted that we would be covering how to properly cultivate mana to increase your power in our next class. And I was very eager to see what exactly he had to teach me.