"...ake up! Hey kid, wake up!" a voice shouted. A hand shook my shoulder, and my eyes shot open as I sat up, watching as the adept jumped back. He tripped over the nearby desk, barely managing to regain his balance.

"Whoa! Easy, it's just me," he said, holding up his hands with a laugh.

I barely heard his words, my head throbbing angrily, but I still managed a forced smile.

"Apologies, sir. I-I did not intend to startle you." I said, bowing my head and immediately regretting the motion. Speaking and movement both seemed to exacerbate this godforsaken headache.

"Not a problem, applicant. Some take longer than usual to come out of the trance, though you might've broken the record. Truthfully, I was getting worried! Wouldn't look good if someone from Duke Estton's household died under my watch, now would it?" he replied, faint nervousness coloring his words.

My smile briefly faltered, but I schooled my face back into an image of polite civility. There was that implication that my life did not matter if not for the connection to Duke Estton. While not a new concept, it was still not particularly pleasant to hear. Instead of dwelling on that, I tried to stand, nearly falling over as my vision swam. My legs felt boneless, and the only thing that kept me upright was an outstretched hand hooked under one arm.

"Steady there. You've been out for a few hours now, and your body is acclimating to the changes. It tends to leave people unsteady. Here, sit back down and take this." he said, helping me back to the bed.

He produced a small vial filled with an opaque green fluid. I stared at it, tilting it towards the light, but he smiled, explaining, "It's a personal blend of a few different things. Healing potion, stamina potion, pain suppressant, and so on. Should help smooth out the rough edges for the next few hours, though you'll still need to rest."

I measured his face, trying to look past the reassuring grin before nodding and emptying the vial. The smell was sharp but not unpleasant, and the taste had a hint of fruits, though nothing I could name. Within a few seconds, my vertigo faded, and the pounding in my head subsided to a dull throb. It was far from perfect, but there was no time to waste sitting around feeling sorry for myself.

"I do not suppose you would be willing to share the formula?" I asked with a polite smile, handing him the glass as I stood. He chuckled, and I decided not to clarify that it was a genuine question, not a joke.

It took me several tries to convince him I could walk to the lobby and not get sick all over the floor or, more importantly, his fancy robes. We made our way back through the halls in silence after I assured him my visions were cloudy and brief, not worth discussing.

When we reached the lobby, I spotted a girl around my age sitting in one of the plush chairs. She held a book, glancing up briefly before returning to her reading. A single look was all I needed to confirm her high-born status. Perfect posture and clothing, not a strand of hair out of place, and jewelry that cost more than most commoners would ever see all screamed nobility.

"Ahh, miss Ashland. Please, give me a few minutes to finish up here." the adept said, giving her a deep bow before looking back at me. "Is there anything else I can assist you with, young man?" the adept said, giving a bow. His voice had turned polite, almost annoyingly so. That attitude and the girl's appearance suggested she was from an influential family, but Ashland did not ring a bell.

I made a show of thinking before having my face clear. There was no need to make it look like I was too eager to move into the Academy. Warnings still rang in my ears, and it seemed prudent to appear submissive, at least for now.

"With everything that happened, it nearly slipped my mind. I have heard that students may move into the Academy early, right after their Awakening. Would it be possible to arrange for this with you?"

"Of course. Eager to start learning some magic?" he said with a smile, reaching under his desk and retrieving a booklet before writing down something into a ledger.

"My lords require nothing but the best from me, sir. If moving in early ensures I can serve them better, I will do exactly that." I answered, affecting another brief smile.

It was only partly a lie. Allies could prove invaluable, and maintaining a strong relationship with the Esttons was a high priority. Remaining their servant sounded less than appealing after seeing my future, but that was a concern for another day. For now, maintaining the disguise of a loyal follower would be the best move.

"Of course. Well, you can expect a message within several hours, noting a time to meet with your advisor, most likely tomorrow afternoon. They'll handle confirming classes, assigning a room, and all that. In the meantime, take a look through this. Any questions?" he said, handing me the book.

"Just one, sir. How will the Academy contact me?"

"Magic," he replied without any trace of sarcasm, and I tried not to chuckle. Ask a stupid question, as they say.

The adept moved around the desk, glancing at the noble but paused, continuing, "Oh, and when you start classes, look for another first-year named Simon. He's my little cousin, and I think you'd get along. Short, dark hair, glasses, and looks like me."

And, if I had to guess, he hoped a friendship would help establish relations with a powerful Duke. Despite that likely motive, I nodded, responding, "Of course, sir. Thank you again." before turning and making for the door.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The noble girl stood as I walked by, and I glanced over, noting the attractive brown shade of her eyes, shot through with lighter amber flecks. They looked at me cooly, the picture of a detached noble, and I mentally swore for staring, breaking the gaze and ducking my head low.

Putting the pretty noble out of my thoughts, I made my way outside and through the now-packed streets. The sun shone directly overhead, leaving around four hours until sunset. Girem would likely not return until after then, which gave me enough time to think about my next move.

Changing fate and saving an entire country was a tall task and one I had already failed at once before. No matter how I tried to approach it, the problem seemed to round back to one overriding factor.

Power.

In Ferris, power made the world turn, and anyone who said otherwise was either naive or lying. It came in a dozen flavors, some easier to spot than others, but all represented the same thing. Wealth was an obvious enough one, though annoying as it spread through families like wildfire. Charisma was another and far more insidious. You could track gold, but thoughts and whispers? Not so much.

But in the end, power was power, and I needed a hell of a lot of it. The question remained how to go about gaining it? My training would be a start, but magic might not be enough. It could help, of course, but that was only one piece of the puzzle.

"One problem at a time," I muttered under my breath as I walked, recalling an early lesson with Girem.

"When faced with a dozen problems, deal with one at a time. Better to solve one than lose yourself to panic." the man had said, giving me the same stern look he always wore. It stood in stark contrast with a later lesson demanding that I consider all angles in a situation, but that was not unusual. Like all people, Girem was a man of contradictions.

Almost without noticing, I stopped in front of the Bronze Barrel, the inn we stayed at the past few nights. The building was massive, standing four stories tall with an expansive main room that combined a bar, a restaurant, and a gambling hall into one chaotic space. Though the end of summer fast approached, it remained at least partly full at all hours, with a few dozen patrons inside.

I made my way for the stairs, not bothering to look around for the Duke's other servants that accompanied me. Though I needed to talk with Girem soon, I wanted to prepare first. Information was another form of power and about the only one available at this point.

When the door was closed and locked, I sat down on the bed and skimmed the booklet. The first part contained basic Academy rules and regulations, with the bulk dedicated to class descriptions. Students could take as many as they wanted, five per year being the minimum requirement to graduate.

I planned to take ten.

It was a risk and one that could very well end in disaster, but I knew there was not much choice. Every other apprentice would have resources I lacked. They had tutors, training supplies, and ancestral knowledge giving them an edge. If I trained like the rest, I would never even catch up to them, much less become an Archmagus. Success demanded I work harder than anyone else ever to set foot in the Academy.

But the question remained, what should I take?

If my counterpart spoke true, I had fifteen years until the invaders landed on our shores. However, he also mentioned that altering time carried risks. It might be possible things could change, and they might well arrive earlier than expected.

"Ten years," I muttered, setting a deadline. A single, short decade to rise from a novice to higher than an Archmagus. It seemed an impossible task, but not one I could afford to fail. Death was all that waited at the end of that road, and I found myself far too attached to life to consider failure.

Flipping to the section on classes, I muttered, "Alright, limited time and resources. What should I pick?"

All students had to take Magic Theory and Beginner Spellcraft as first-years. The former focused on mana, what it was and how it interacted with the world at large. The latter was self-explanatory and covered how to take raw energy and turn it into something tangible. Even if they were not mandatory, I would still select them.

Next, I added Alchemy and Enchanting to my list, both introductory courses divided between theory and practical exercises. After a moment, Forging became my fifth choice. Healing potions seemed the perfect fix for a sword through the gut, and the other two might help me craft magical equipment. My future counterpart had used those, and I had to assume he had his reasons.

Since I planned to battle an army, War Theory became my sixth pick. It focused on strategy and tactics concerning magic, including combining spells, controlling fields, and other concepts. I knew enough about mundane wartime strategy, but spellcraft added an entirely new dimension.

All of that still left a burning need for personal defense. After all, it was not like I could bore an enemy to death. Then again, it seemed magic was capable of plenty of incredible things. Just in case, I picked Dueling, which should cover combat skills.

Now came the part where I took some chances. Those seven would cover most probable situations, but that still left three more choices to experiment and see if I could not find useful bits of wisdom.

For my eighth class, I grabbed Magic Beasts. All sorts of nasty creatures wandered outside of our borders, and many had natural magic abilities. If I could find out how they worked, that might provide a practical edge. And if not, learning how to kill monsters might prove conducive to staying alive long-term.

Magic History was ninth and was something of a longshot. Maybe by studying past Archmagi and their skills, I could learn helpful tricks to develop my talents. At a minimum, it would help expand my knowledge of magic, which was never a bad thing; The more information I had to work with, the better.

One class left, but I had no idea what to choose. Several sounded promising, but there was still something missing that I could not identify. Should I try to find another combat-focused class? Group Casting sounded like a possibility. If I could pool strength with multiple other mages, maybe I did not need to get so powerful.

Then again, maybe a fourth crafting class like Scrollwork might be helpful. That might provide additional options in battle or avenues to gain extra gold. All those thoughts vanished when I read the summary of a class near the end of the book.

Espionage, a class tailor-made for skills that most nobles would find distasteful. Topics included hiding and sensing mana, detecting spies, remaining visually undetected, and gathering information. All of those would prove useful, particularly considering I planned to keep my talents quiet for the foreseeable future.

With my choices selected, I set the book down before rubbing my eyes. They would do for now, and if they proved less than ideal or too demanding, I could still drop several and stay ahead of the others. The Academy did not care either way. They always got their money, after all.

My eyelids felt weighed down, and there was nothing more appealing sounding than a good night's sleep, but I stood, shaking off the tempting thoughts. Just that short few minutes laying down was nearly enough to doze off, but that had to wait.

I quickly glanced in the mirror, smoothing out my clothes and tidying up my hair before leaving the room. Appearances still mattered, and my mentor expected nothing but perfection. And considering what came next, I had to put my best foot forward. Girem was a hard man to impress.