In the intervening time, the Bronze Barrel had gone from busy to annoyingly full. When I was last downstairs, there were maybe twenty people, but now there had to be at least a hundred packed inside.

Half-shouted conversations filled the room, struggling to be heard over the rest of the noise filling the air. Worse than the noise was the smells, a disgusting mixture of alcohol, smoke, perfumes, and body odor. Just a single inhale was near gag-worthy, and I wondered if there was a spell to clean the air. If I made a habit of staying in inns, it might be a necessity.

I scanned the room, and a table near the far wall drew my eye. Of course, they had picked a spot as far away as possible, with a sea of drunken patrons in between. Rather than sit there and dwell on it, I took a deep breath through my mouth, held it, and entered the fray.

Several minutes and a half-dozen bruises from flailing arms later, I exited the other side, stumbling into a nearby table as someone's shoulder caught me. With only the slightest twinge of annoyance, I straightened, smoothed the front of my shirt, and approached the table.

Of the five men, Neil was the only one I knew well. In addition to serving as second-in-command to the family guards, he was the closest to a friend I had growing up. He had worked with my uncle before his death, and privately, I suspected this was why he kept a close eye on me.

"Vayne, there you are! Took you long enough. We planned to celebrate with you, but you were too slow. Had to get started without you!" Neil shouted with a broad smile, sliding his seat over and making room to his right. I glanced around, grabbing an empty chair from another table and sitting down next to him.

"Busy. I had some things to take care of first. I hope you understand," I replied with a shrug, raising my voice as well, though not quite so loud.

"I understand that you could use a drink. Not gonna be much chance to see you soon, so we gotta take advantage. Don't worry, I won't put you at risk of having too much fun." he replied with a wink, gesturing to a nearby server.

"I have two months free each year in between semesters, you know. That is more than enough time to bother me, though Girem would disapprove. And I cannot guarantee I will not use magic to my advantage, " I replied with a ghost of a smile.

The server dropped by, placing the drinks down onto the table and shooting Neil a quick, flirtatious smile. It did not escape my notice that she brought six mugs, clearly assuming I was partaking as well. Though technically, it was illegal to drink under sixteen, few bars cared to enforce that law.

I grabbed my drink with a brief shrug and took a sip, immediately regretting my choice at the strong taste. My best attempts to hide my coughing behind a hand failed, and the others all burst into laughter. The largest, a more recent recruit named David, slapped me onto the back before leaning in closer.

"Not one of yer fancy wines, is it? Pretty sure they use this stuff to grease carriage wheels."

"And you drink it for fun? That seems...ill-advised." I remarked, glancing down at my drink with a neutral expression as they laughed again.

After several seconds, they started discussing one of their typical drinking stories. I had heard it several times now over the last few weeks during our trips, told at multiple inns and taverns, and put them out of my mind. Neil listened for only a moment before looking at me and leaning in closer.

"So, how'd it go with the Awakening? You a mage for real now?"

I paused before shrugging and replying, "I need to speak to Girem soon, but that is about all I can say."

We both knew what went unsaid. There was plenty I could share, but not with Neil. He was just an ordinary guard for all his kindness, competence, and loyalty. Those sorts of secrets were far above his station.

"Well, I wish Morren was here with us. He would've been proud to see how far his blood has gone." Neil remarked, placing a hand on my shoulder before taking a deep swig of his drink.

My uncle had passed protecting the Duke's children from a beast during a trip visiting family friends. The Duke himself had been away on business, and without his presence, the group had struggled to fight off the creature. Morren's sacrifice prompted the Duke to pursue me as a candidate to reward services rendered by our family.

I could vaguely recall him meeting with my parents, who jumped at the chance for their child to become a mage. It was the highest honor, one that spoke to the depth of gratitude he felt towards my uncle.

In all likelihood, my uncle would not have cared much either way. From what I could recall, there was little love lost between him and my father, and I had never met the man before his passing. Everything I knew of him came from Neil and several other experienced guards.

"I can only hope he is looking down on us from wherever he is now," I said, keeping my tone neutral as I took another pained sip, managing not to wince this time.

"So, when do you start your training?" Neil asked after a moment.

"I cannot say for sure...but soon, if all goes well. Maybe within days." I answered, deciding that I could share that much at least.

Neil blinked, taking several seconds to reply, "That soon?! Damn, I thought you'd be sticking with us longer."

"They offer a chance to move in early, and that seems the prudent option," I answered with a shrug.

"Damn. A whole half-year spent rubbing shoulders with the rich and powerful. Just make sure not to lose touch with the little people, eh?" he said with another grin as he nudged me with an elbow.

I snorted, shaking my head at his comment and responding, "I doubt the rest of the apprentices will be overly eager to make friends. Maybe to get close with the twins, but not for my sparkling company."

Neil chuckled at that, and we fell silent, returning our attention to the rest of the group. Several other patrons had drawn closer, listening to the tail end of David's story. This one was about a group of wandering bandits who harassed farmers living on the Duke's land. We sat close to the Ferren border, attracting more attacks from the poor and desperate than further into the kingdom. Some might see it as a veiled insult, but Girem noted the independence of such distance outweighed the costs.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"So then, I blocked the big one's swing with my shield. Damn near took off my arm anyways, but the clumsy bastard left himself wide open. I gutted him like a trout, while Jonah here speared another right through the gut. I spun, chopping off another's head before he knew what hit him! The other six broke rank after that and ran. Must've known better than to challenge us!" David said, mimicking the swings of a sword with outstretched arms. Jonah sat next to him, preening under the attention of the other patrons.

Several from the crowd muttered approval and asked questions while Neil shot me a knowing glance. That story grew more embellished with every retelling, not that the others needed to hear that.

Nearly an hour passed as the others laughed, gossiped, and played card games, gambling with spare copper. I was still nursing my first drink, sitting near the edge of the group deep in thought, when Neil gave me a nudge. When I looked to him, he jerked his chin towards the entrance, muttering, "Girem's back, kid. You should get going."

I turned and looked over my shoulder, spotting the older man standing right where Neil said. His eyes pierced me even fifty feet away, and I knew better than to keep him waiting.

"Thank you, Neil. Have a good night." I said, pushing my chair back and leaving my unfinished drink behind.

"Yeah, yeah. You too, kid. Good luck!" he shouted back as I waded back into the crowd.

Girem did not bother greeting me, turning on one foot and marching up the stairs without a single backward glance. I hurried after him, making my way up to the top floor. His room was modest, only marginally larger than my own. He could have sprung for a more luxurious space, but that was not his way. A waste of gold, he would say.

The moment we were alone, he turned and folded his arms over his chest, staring right through me.

"I trust it went well with your Awakening?"

He worded it as a question, but I knew it was an implicit order to summarize and report. I nodded, folding my arms behind my back and keeping my eyes forward with a blank expression.

"Yes, my lord. It took longer than average, but there were no serious complications."

"And your visions?"

This was the tricky part. I had hoped he would not ask, but that was a faint hope at best.

"My visions were quite confusing, my lord. Far more confusing than expected, even." I answered, technically telling the truth. The best lies had a core of honesty, after all.

Knowing Girem, he would assume precisely what I hoped, and I relaxed marginally when he nodded, responded, "As expected. Your bloodline is not particularly strong, after all. Regardless, you are ready to begin training?"

"Yes, my lord. And if I may..." I began trailing off as his eyes bored into me.

Silence filled the air, and as seconds crawled by, sweat began to gather on my back. Finally, his head inclined a fraction, a silent signal to continue.

"I inquired about moving into the Academy early. As soon as possible, in fact."

"Why?" he said, his tone icy.

"Efficacy, my lord. I have much to learn and not enough time to do it. The sooner I begin training, the better I might serve our lords." I answered, meeting his eyes without flinching.

"And your advisory meeting?"

"They will inform me of a date and time by the end of the day, sir."

"Classes?"

My mouth felt dry as I handed him my list of classes, replacing my arms behind my back as he read. I had debated on lying or hiding several choices, but that was a useless endeavor. Deception like that required trust and Girem did not know the meaning of the word. To quote the man, "Trust is a risk, and we are not in the business of risks. Engender loyalty in others, but never give it freely to any but your lords."

It seemed a contradiction considering his unconditional trust in Duke Estton but again, those were intrinsic to Girem.

Something I could not identify flickered over his face as he read, and after a minute, his eyes darted back up to me. He did not speak, but I recognized the expression he gave. He demanded an explanation.

"Duke Estton is the highest lord in Ferris and requires nothing but the best servants. I must train and learn as much as possible, or I cannot fulfill my duty." I said, my words clear and confident.

"Combative classes are traditionally forbidden, as you are well aware." he retorted, his words carrying a hint of warning.

This was where it went from risky to outright dangerous. One wrong word could spell ruin for my plans. Luckily, I had practiced this several times in my head over the last hour.

"Yes, my lord. However, this strikes me as a dangerous disadvantage. One that Duke Estton's rivals would exploit if given a chance."

And if it happened to grant me enough strength to say, kill mysterious invaders trying to drive a sword through my chest, all the better.

"Do you believe they would try and kill you?"

"Queen Imblen the Younger lost five advisors to assassination during her rule. General Freemarch was found in his bed with a knife driven through his neck after speaking out against a rival. Duke Estton's great-uncle vanished under suspicious circumstances shortly after the death of his father. If there is a benefit to gain, others will pursue it. You have always taught me that leaving opportunities is begging for others to use them." I recited my prepared answer, keeping my tone level.

Girem's eyes narrowed, and I could see the warning there. Using his own words against him was a dangerous game, one that could backfire. Still, if there was one thing he respected, it was logic, and he knew my point was sound. Silently, I thanked my history tutors for their often painfully dull lessons.

"Our Lord will not be happy breaking tradition," he said finally, folding his arms over his chest.

"He already has once, has he not, my lord? Traditionally, advisors are younger members of the family, not commoners." I countered.

It struck not just at my position but Girem's as well. He was also common-born, the childhood best friend of Duke Estton. They had grown up together and, if the rumors were true, shared a father. I suspected that was idle gossip, but the fact remained he served as an advisor without a drop of noble blood for decades.

His eyes met mine again, and I wondered if I overstepped, but after a heartbeat, he nodded again.

"I will convince Rufus of the necessity. However, can you balance such a workload? No doubt they will prove demanding."

I nodded without hesitation, knowing it was the only correct response. Now was not the time to second-guess or doubt myself.

"With additional time and preparation, I can keep up with my peers. You have taught me well, after all."

The edge of his mouth briefly twitched upward, and he stared at me for another moment, turned away from me and towards a window.

"If I did not know better, I would say you prepared for this discussion ahead of time."

"As I said, you taught me well, sir."

There was a faint snort, and he nodded before glancing over his shoulder at me.

"I will send up a fresh set of clothing to your room and have a bath readied for the morning. When you receive notice, inform me of the time regardless of how late it comes."

"Yes, my lord," I responded, bowing low at the waist.

"Good. Now, get some rest. You will need it."

I did not allow a smile onto my face until I was safely behind a closed and locked door. When the lock clicked shut, I finally let the last bit of tension slip from my shoulders.

Girem had agreed, which was more than I hoped for, though I was not entirely surprised. The man respected logic and saw the reason in my argument, though he was far from thrilled about it. Though he would likely keep a close eye on me, at least I could freely learn magic without worrying about discovery.

He was not the only person unhappy about our arrangement, though. I had yearned to learn about magic my entire life, eager for this day ever since I first started my training. Girem had bored into my head the importance of loyalty and that I owed the Duke an unpayable debt, but did I? The Duke's children lived thanks to my uncle's actions, and my training as a mage was repayment.

Once, I was able to ignore it, and even now, part of me screamed for daring to consider rising above my station. But another voice, one that might be arrogance, asked if that was all I wanted. Should I settle for helping my country and serving my lords, or should I strive for something else?

As I stared at the ceiling above me, no answer came to mind. All that awaited me was silence and the restlessness that came with it.