The next day, I finally had a chance to meet with Master Barlow to discuss my future as a mage. The older woman had agreed to a single, one-hour training session, and I intended to eke out every second of instruction from her.

"You've been holding back in class," Master Barlow said as she stood before me, "Smart if you're planning to repeat your little skirmish with Sion's brat. Stupid if you want my help. Show me everything you've got, and we'll go from there."

"Should I stick with my finished spells, or-"

"Was 'everything' a difficult word to comprehend?"

There was a saying about discretion and valor that came to mind as I held my tongue. It took me nearly a half-hour to demonstrate every bit of my existing magical abilities, large and small. I cast my Traveler's Shield and Force Step. I displayed the half-finished strengthening spell and explained the enchantments I had created and used in Aresford.

Barlow had me follow her as she cast spells, using only my innate mana senses to track her magic. I had to throw out bolts as fast as possible and as far as possible. At one point, the master even used a strange spell to push on every inch of my skin, forcing me to resist it through brute force mana exertions for as long as I could manage.

Finally, Barlow gave her opinion.

"You should give up," Barlow said bluntly, leaning on her cane as I sat on the floor, catching my breath.

"Master?"

"You don't fight like a mage, and that's not a compliment, "Barlow continued, "You piss through mana like it's going to rot. Half your magic is too sloppy to be worth a damn, and you're insistent on augmenting your body with a spell. The only things you've got going for you are the size and strength of your mana vessels, but that's not enough."

"What would you recommend?"

"Abandon the rest of your magic aside from those modified mana bolts and your armor spell. Perfect those, focus on stamina, and rain down projectiles from behind a nice, thick shield. Simple and effective."

Also inflexible, which I knew Barlow should recognize.

"Ah, forgive me, master, but you have spoken about adaptability and flexibility. That style feels a bit...rigid. I would go so far as to say it is too simple."

Barlow snorted, "You're a first-year student, and you want unique? Now?"

I nodded, "I do. You have said before that your magical style is meant to be personal, and this is how I want to progress. I want your guidance, but I do not want to fight the way someone else would.

Master Barlow glared at me for a few seconds before sighing, " Do you know how many apprentices I've seen?"

It took me a few seconds to realize it was not rhetorical, and I replied, "I would guess many, Master Barlow."

"Too many," Barlow shook her head, "And you're the worst type of apprentice, boy. You're the type that rushes towards greatness and usually winds up dead when your skill doesn't keep up with your ambitions."

Her words echoed Sigmund's warnings, and I met her eyes with as much courage as I had tried to muster with him, "Then I suppose I will need to train harder."

The master snorted, tapping her fingers on her cane as she examined me, "Every great mage began as some overly ambitious little whelp who wanted to become someone. They all wanted to be special. But that's the thing, Vayne. Every apprentice thinks they'll be the one to become an Archmagus. They think they're the hardest working, most determined little thing to ever come to the Academy. And they all forget that there is always someone just as talented and ambitious as them."

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It hit close to home, and I responded, "Then how? How would someone like me succeed?"

Again, Barlow stared at me. She did not respond for a long time before finally saying, "If you want to walk this path, understand there are no half-measures. No Archmagus has gotten to their position by splitting their time and focus. Each has thrown away family, friends, and an easy life in favor of their ambitions, like kindling to a flame."

The master raised one gnarled finger and pointed it at me, "If you cannot look at what you have and be prepared to cast it aside, then you'll fail."

Something about her words and their bluntness struck me. She stared down at me with a hint of pity in her eyes, like she knew what I would pick, "Good luck, young man."

----

Another week passed before the whispers and rumors began.

My expedition to the north had gone unspoken of for a time, and I savored every moment of that calm. Mages gossiped, but word tended to spread slowly so far from Aresford. But Amelia had reiterated several times that it would, and when it did, all that peace would vanish.

I noticed it for the first time one evening after classes. Amelia, Simon, Leon, and I had gone to one of the dining halls and enjoyed a quiet dinner. Or rather, Simon and I did while Amelia and Leon argued about nonsense.

"I don't know how you can say that," Amelia said, "They taste fine."

Leon snorted, "No, they're disgusting. Tomatoes have that weird flavor. And they're so watery. Who likes tomatoes?"

"I do!" Amelia waved her arms, "And I bet Simon does, too. Simon, tomatoes? Yes or no?"

Simon blinked, looking between the two arguing apprentices before coughing, "I'm not particularly fond of tomatoes-"

"Hah!" Leon shouted, gesturing towards Simon.

"But they're fine, I guess?" Simon finished.

Amelia wore a smug grin as she turned towards Leon, who rolled his eyes but chuckled under his breath.

Amelia glared, then looked at me, "What about you, Vayne?"

"Hmm?" I looked up from my dinner, which I had picked at idly while Amelia and Leon argued.

"Foods you hate. You've got to have at least a few."

"Not that I can think of," I shrugged one shoulder.

"Nothing? I think you're lying to avoid an argument," Amelia replied.

That was precisely what I was doing, but I knew better than to admit as much. I opened my mouth to deflect away when I caught a hint of the conversation a few tables over.

"-fought Flynn Sion. The Duke's son! Upstart little-"

I glanced over my shoulder to find a group of four nobles speaking in hushed tones. The dining hall was empty enough for their voices to carry, but I noticed one visibly start when she noticed my look. The young man to her left, a second-year with the feeling of a Haze-tier fire mage, met my gaze with a haughty glare.

That look screamed trouble, and I turned back to the table, where I found my three allies staring at me.

"What?"

"You've got that look on your face," Amelia replied.

"What look?"

Amelia's eyebrows drew down, and she folded her arms across her chest with an exaggerated frown. After a few seconds, she straightened up and smiled, "That one."

"...I do not look like that."

"You sometimes do," Leon countered, and I stared at the noble, who had the decency to shrug with a grin.

I sighed, "I do not like rumors."

"Rumors?" Leon leaned to one side and glanced over my shoulder. His face shifted, a frown crossing his features as he moved to stand, and I held up one hand.

"It is okay, sir. I can deal with rumors."

"It's still rude," Leon said, settling back into his seat, "Talking behind someone's back like that."

I agreed, but before I could say anything else, I felt a hand on my shoulder. The mana signature behind my back told the story, and I had to force my face into something polite as I turned to find the second-year fire mage.

"Yes?" I asked, "May I help you?"

"You're Vayne? The commoner who picked a fight with Duke Sion's son?"

"The young lord Sion and I had an honorable duel, yes," I replied.

The fire mage's face twisted into a faint sneer, which he managed to smother after a second, "The stories say you nearly stabbed him through the chest. I'd love to see for myself just what you can do."

I examined the noble more closely, trying to gauge the specifics of his magic. He was further along into Haze than me, not far off from Mist. His mana was uncontrolled, but fire mages tended to not need all that much control. I would bet he preferred to throw a lot of flames in the direction of an enemy and hope that did the trick.

My duel with Flynn Sion was a poorly calculated risk. I knew that if I won, there was a chance at a great reward, and I suspected the light mage would not seriously injure me if I lost. But this fire mage bled sadistic eagerness. The only thing a victory would earn was brief, fleeting satisfaction.

"I must decline, but thank you," I said after a moment's pause, "Have a good evening."

I turned back to the table, only to feel the fire mage's hand on my shoulder again as he forcibly spun me back to face him.

"Why don't you take a day or two, friend, and think about it?" the fire mage said, "I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement. Say...a bit of gold to keep it interesting?"

I was about to ask exactly how much gold he wanted to wager when I heard Leon's voice from behind me.

"Why don't we keep our hands to ourselves?" Leon asked. His voice sounded friendly, but I could hear the hardness and implicit command. I felt an icy chill from Amelia, and even Simon's water mana twitched as both seemed ready to intervene.

The fire mage released my shoulder and held up both hands with a placating gesture, "Of course. Another time, maybe. I'll let you all get back to dinner."

Turning, he strode back to his table, but the damage was done. The rest of the room stared at our table, and I heard my name mentioned more than once.

I pushed them aside and nodded to my three friends, "Thank you."

Leon returned my nod, and Amelia reached over to squeeze my hand, which sent a wave of heat across my face. I smiled at her, but as I did, Master Barlow's words echoed in my ears.

"If you cannot look at what you have and be prepared to cast it aside, then you'll fail."

Was I ready to do that? I had only a few weeks earlier decided to pursue something more with Amelia. If I had to, could I throw that away so quickly? And what about my friends? Sigmund? The answer did not come to me, and that was as damning as anything.

Leon and Simon began speaking about our latest class on magical creatures, but Amelia seemed to notice my uncertainty. Again, she squeezed my hand and leaned in closer.

"You okay?" Amelia whispered to me, trying to meet my eyes.

I forced myself to smile and nodded.

"Of course," I lied, "Never better."

The words tasted like ash in my mouth.