Vidarr stood at the top of the hill, overlooking the rest of the 'town' or whatever one might call it. As we approached, he turned to face us.

"Tell me, do either of you begrudge a hard day's work?"

"No," I said, and Wallace echoed my sentiment after a second's pause.

"Excellent," Vidarr smiled, pointing down towards one building, a low, rectangular house with a crimson-tiled roof, "Head there and tell the man living within that you seek lodging. If he makes a fuss, kindly remind him that he too was once an eager young neophyte and to 'repay his debts' as it were."

"I...see?" I lied, then bowed again, "Thank you, honored gatekeeper."

"No thanks needed, young man," Vidarr smiled, "It is my duty, after all. I hope to count you both among our ranks soon."

With that said, he turned and walked back into the temple, leaving us alone.

"Do you think we can trust him?" Wallace asked.

I paused, then replied, "Not sure. I think so, though. What possible reason could he have to lie to us?"

"For fun?"

"I suppose, but that seems pointless. Why waste the time and effort?"

"Again, for fun," Wallace repeated, "People aren't petty because it's the smart thing to do.

He was right, but I still felt it was pointless. So, I shrugged and said, "Best way to find out is to go there now and get an answer for ourselves."

I walked away, not bothering to wait for Wallace's response. He fell into step beside me after a few seconds, and together, we made our way back down the slope and into the town again.

The red-roofed building was smaller than it looked from on high. Still large and vaguely rectangular, but I noticed it had several additions tacked on at some point after initial construction. One must be a workshop or forge based on the size and chimney, and I suspected the other was a storeroom. After all, what kind of craftsman would want less storage space?

Wallace seemed in no hurry to knock, so I sighed, walking to the front door and rapping my knuckles against it three times before stepping back and waiting.

The door swung open after a second or two, and a dark-skinned man stepped out. He was a few years older than us, dressed in the same dark robes as the rest of the Order's members, and his aura felt right on the cusp of Drop. His eyes were a deep blue shade that almost shone in the midday sun, though I noted they were neither warm nor inviting.

"Yeah?" the man asked after a few seconds.

"Good afternoon, sir. My name is Simon and—"

"Not interested," the man said, closing the door and leaving us in the street.

I glanced over to Wallace, who shrugged before gesturing towards the door. After a brief pause, I stepped forward and knocked again.

The robed man took a little longer to answer, and his face looked even less friendly.

"What?" he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice

"As I was saying," I continued, "This is my friend Markus. We—"

The door slammed shut again, maybe a foot from my face.

"Friendly guy," Wallace remarked, and I sensed Fortunatus agreed. The feline had woken up at some point on our walk to the building, and his irritation bled across our bond in faint currents. If I did not know any better, I would suspect the creature wanted us to throw the man out of his own home.

I sighed, then raised my hand and knocked a third time. When the man practically threw the door open, I did not give him even a moment to breathe."

"Gatekeeper Vidarr sent us," I said in a rush. When the man did not retreat, I continued, "We came here seeking to join the Order of the Forgetenders. Vidarr recommended we come and speak with you about lodging."

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The man looked me up and down, then examined Wallace before scoffing. "No thanks."

He went to make another retreat, but I was faster. Aether gathered around my hand, forming armor in a heartbeat, and I slipped my fingers between the door and its frame even as he moved to close it. Wood cracked against the emerald shell, and I saw the man's eyes narrow as his mana rippled.

"Move your hand," he commanded, a hint of mana flowing along with his words.

I met his eyes and smiled, replying, "No."

We stared at one another for a few seconds, and Wallace seemed to feel it was a good time to intervene. He stepped forward, saying, "The gatekeeper said that we should remind you to 'repay your debts.'"

The man scoffed, shaking his head as he stepped backward, sweeping his arm in a gesture that might have appeared inviting if his mana was not still roiling. Wallace placed a hand on my shoulder, then stepped past me with a smile and a muttered thanks. I relaxed my mana and followed his lead after a brief pause.

Inside was a small sitting room with a few chairs around a table and shelves along the walls. The ceiling was low enough that Sig could have touched it without much issue. Three other doors, one to the left, one to the right, and one directly ahead, led to the rest of the home based on the external layout.

"What did Vidarr tell you?" the man asked as he closed the door behind us.

"Remarkably little," I answered, not seeing the point in politeness. Wallace shot me a warning glance, and I ignored him.

"Sounds about right," the other man sighed, "I'm Cibris. Disciple of the Order of Forgetenders."

"Nice to meet you," Wallace said, and I echoed the sentiment without much blatant deceit. Girem had taught me well.

Cibris accepted it with a grunt, then continued, "You'll be staying in the rooms down the right hallway. The workshop's on the left, and the courtyard is through that door. We get started at sunrise. Food's served then, at midday, and just after sunset. Any questions? No? Excellent."

I had plenty, but the man turned on his heel and practically stomped away without a backward glance, vanishing down the hallway and towards the workshop. He slammed that door without any issues, leaving us alone in the sitting room.

"Real friendly, that one," Wallace muttered, chuckling as he shook his head, "So, Vidarr wasn't lying. Just wasn't being totally honest."

"So it seems," I agreed, then shrugged one shoulder, "Best to get some sleep, I suppose. It sounds like we have busy days ahead of us."

***

Weeks passed as we settled into our new lives, and we soon found that Vidarr had omitted several essential pieces of information, as had Cibris.

The ring of buildings surrounding the Everforge were the homes of the various members of the Order. Each member, from the newest and lowest to their oldest and most venerated, had their own space, and as a general rule, seniority warranted a larger estate. However, this also meant there were no public lodgings for prospective initiates.

So, the Order had come up with another solution.

Any prospective initiate could find a member of the Order and offer their services in exchange for housing. They would act as assistants and servants, gathering and preparing resources, cleaning workshops, and repairing tools.

This deal also often came with mentorship from the Forgetender, but Cibris must have missed that part of the custom.

Every morning, we awoke with the sunrise to get an early start on our tasks. We would eat a quick breakfast, after which we went about our chores. Most days, this consisted of picking up and sorting various ores for Cibris, who seemed to consider the task beneath him.

It was a simple, backbreaking task...for most. Wallace and I had practiced our strengthening magic enough to make it easier, but it still demanded several hours daily. Despite this, Cibris rarely gave us additional work. I got the feeling this was not due to kindness but secrecy. He did not want us in the forge, fearing we might learn too much of his abilities.

We did not care much. Instead, we threw ourselves into preparing for our first attempt at the Order's trials. Neither of us had any confidence in passing on our first attempt, but we likewise did not want to give voice to those doubts. It felt self-defeating, and the daunting challenge helped keep us focused, as clear goals often did.

I decided not to reinvent the wheel and split my focus into quarters. Three of those went towards the three fundamental skills which I sought to develop in equal measures. Meanwhile, I dedicated the fourth to polishing my mana gathering technique. No sense in letting raw power and stamina fall by the wayside.

Wallace trained with a narrower focus. He seemed intent on perfecting reinforcement, and nearly two-thirds of his efforts went toward that goal. While he did practice his other skills, even fiddling with cold iron in his spare time, it was clear what remained his priority.

Soon, our first trial came.

The trials took place in the main temple. Dozens sat in the main room, and one by one, we were led blindfolded down winding corridors and into the 'testing' room.

It was round, about forty feet wide, with a dozen chairs facing towards the center. Robed figures of differing ages and genders sat in nine of these seats, each carrying auras of impressive power and astonishing control. I could detect not even the slightest flicker of instability and might liken it to a storm contained within a glass sphere. Visible but restrained.

One, an older man with a white, braided beard and long white hair, met my eyes and nodded with a smile.

"Your name and magical affinity," the man said, command clear in his voice.

"Simon," I said, having practiced the lie until it was second nature, "Aether, my lords."

"Aether," the man echoed, humming, "Very well. Show us your fundamental three."

I nodded, extending both hands in front of me. Aether swirled between my palms, and I molded the energy into a sphere the size of my head. It was near-perfect, smooth, and without the eddies, ripples, and apparent flaws that once riddled my creations. Of course, I could still sense them, but I doubted most my age could match the feat.

After a few seconds, I moved to alteration. My skill there was less honed, but I still managed to shift the sphere into a cylinder, followed by a cone, tetrahedron, and finally a cube. The entire process took me a minute, maybe two, but I was unsatisfied. My transitions were slow, the proportions of each sloppy, the corners rounded, and I lost some mana with each shift. A decent showing for my age, but only that. Decent.

I allowed the Forgetenders a few seconds to mull over my work as I pulled a small iron bar from my pocket, pushing my senses into it as I had hundreds of times prior. My focus was unbreakable, my will iron-clad, and my sight well-honed as I sought out the flaws and imperfections within the material. I found them in seconds and concentrated as I allowed mana to flow into the metal. It brushed against these flaws, and I held my breath as I tried to will it to break down the non-ferrous matter, driving it out and—

The iron bar sundered down the middle. I opened my eyes and sighed, staring at the crack with as neutral an expression as possible. It might not have been a catastrophic failure, but it was nonetheless a failure.

Then, I slipped the bar back into my pocket and bowed to the masters again.

"Thank you for your consideration, my lords."

"Thank you for the demonstration, young man," the bearded man said, still smiling, "Please wait while we deliberate."

The Forgetender who had led me to the room blindfolded me again, and we stepped out of the room while they discussed my performance. The answer came in less than a minute, and, as I expected, I had failed. Quite impressively, in fact.

My alteration was pitiful, and my creation poor at best. I had decent mana control overall, and my perception bordered on good, but even if I could reinforce physical materials, I was years away from meeting their standards. Maybe even longer.

I decided to give myself six months.

It felt like arrogance...but was it? I had become an Archmagus in a past life. If I wanted to surpass that version of myself, could I afford to set my sights any lower?

No, of course not.

So, I would pass their trials within six months. I had to. It was as simple as that.