“Now we have one Emily Grant, true name… oh, Ravina Rosewell Ravenshield, the first daughter of the great Count Ravenshield.” The dull oyster-white eyes of the old man widened as he read the name. He glanced up as the girl entered, his long, thick fingers pulling at his heavy white eyebrows to clear his view. His face, deeply etched with age, was partially obscured by a thick, meticulously combed ducktail beard. The short cut of his hair contrasted sharply with the deep lines of his weathered face, giving him an oddly youthful yet unsettling appearance.
Like the other four members of the panel, he wore elegant white robes adorned with intricate gold and grey detailing. The sharp lines and symmetrical patterns lent the design an authoritative air. The long, flowing garment was tailored to fit closely around the torso and chest, meant to emphasize the wearer’s physique. However, over the years, the elderly man had let himself go—a natural consequence of his age. The robes, though designed to project a commanding presence, did little to flatter his now pudgy figure.
Ravina walked steadily toward the seat positioned at the very center. The high, vaulted ceilings and stone walls lent the space an imposing presence, amplifying every nervous footstep she took as she approached the simple chair.
She herself wore a robe today, though hers was unlike those of the panel members. It was the academy’s official dress uniform for its students, a garment that had taken not only her, but the other students by surprise when they were informed of the dress code only two weeks prior.
Initially, there had been a flurry of panic among the students, as the sudden need for a uniform sent waves of anxiety through the academy. However, the panic quickly subsided when it was revealed that the uniform was merely a grey robe, tailored with pearl-white thread—a process that had to be done through the official White Tower tailor. Each student was provided a voucher to have their robe magically tailored to fit their form, courtesy of donations from the nobles, an expectation that had surprised her even more.
Ravina’s robe was a two-piece dress, consisting of an inner sleeveless robe that fell like a summer dress down to her feet and an over-robe that fit like an open-faced jacket, ending just above her knees. The fabric was smooth and finely woven, draping elegantly over her frame. It fit her perfectly, a testament to the skill of the mage-tailor. Yet, it remained a robe—simple and unadorned, doing little to flatter her figure. This was intentional; the apprenticeship robes were designed to symbolize the unity and equality of the students, rather than highlight individuality.
The soft rustle of her robe was the only sound she made, as she sat down in the rather exposed chair. Ravina felt the weight of the room’s many eyes on her. Though there were only 10 to stare at her, it was more than enough to put a lump in her throat. She kept her expression neutral, her purple eyes betraying none of the thoughts swirling in her mind.
Before her sat a few tower elders, a few of the revered members of the White Tower who had gathered to judge the final projects of the academy’s students. The idea behind this examination was simple: instead of presenting your project to the class and having a single teacher assess it, you displayed your work to the Elders and allowed them to judge its worth.
Ravina had known from the start that there was little chance of failing—after all, no one was expected to—but that did little to calm her nerves. She was confident in both her standing in society and the project she had created, yet as she sat there staring at the five senior tower members, a knot of anxiety tightened in her chest.
“The Ravenshield?” the elder man continued, his voice carrying a note of recognition as he looked up from the papers before him.
“Y-yes,” Ravina replied hastily, her voice wavering slightly. Though I am nothing more than a substitute to distract everyone and allow the count to remain unbothered. She couldn't help the thoughts swirl around her head. She bit her lip, cursing herself for the stammer. There was some chuckling from the judges, their amusement poking sharply at her embarrassment.
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“A shame, I doubt she would stay with the Tower even if she graduates,” one of the Elders muttered to another, their voices low but not quite inaudible.
“Well, it’s a connection to have,” another Elder responded with a shrug.
While they exchanged quiet remarks, the man in the middle refocused on Ravina. “Don’t be nervous,” he suggested warmly, his tone surprisingly gentle. “Now, it looks like you’ve submitted a…” he let loose a cough as he returned his gaze to the paper before him. “Carry-all magic bag? Interesting.” He gestured to the small leather pouch on the table between Ravina and the judges. The bag was modest, about the size of a human head, with a squared-off shape, a flap to close it, and a shoulder strap for ease of carrying. It looked unremarkable, almost mundane—until one considered its magical properties.
“So your submission is a bag that can carry many items in a small space,” the Elder continued, raising an eyebrow as he examined the bag more closely.
“Uh, yes sir. Uh, ahem,” Ravina stammered again, her throat suddenly dry. She cleared her throat in an attempt to regain her composure. “What I mean is, um, the items can be stored, and, uh, retrieved… whenever,” she managed to say, her voice faltering. The words felt clumsy and inadequate, and Ravina wanted to die from the embarrassment right then and there.
“It’s fine, little lady. Take a breath,” the elder said again. Somehow it made it worse. He paused for a moment before continuing. “Now, I see in the report that this was inspired by the bag used by the guild. So, tell me, what makes this different from the aposkevón bag already in use?”
“Um… well, those bags only negate the weight inside,” Ravina began, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. “And the size of the bag still matters, so larger bags require more powerful enchantments. This means they need more ink chalk, more mana circuits, and more time to make something bigger. In the end, the cost to make an aposkevón bag is often more than the bag itself is worth. In fact, it’s easier to build the enchantment into carts, which is what merchants often do, even though it makes the enchantment weaker due to the sheer size of it all.”
Ravina paused, glancing at the small leather pouch on the table before continuing. “So, um, this spell allows for almost any object to be put inside and lifted. Instead of a bag that has no weight, my prototype uses the same principles of anchor point banishment to tether the item inside the bag. It’s like… uh, there’s a hidden sheet over the bag, and when someone puts an object inside, it wraps around the object as it banishes it inside the bag. So, for all intents and purposes, it makes the bag capable of holding a large number of items while remaining a manageable size.”
“So it’s entirely stable?” the elder asked, his tone probing but not unkind.
“Well… it does work, but there is a problem when trying to pull out certain items,” Ravina admitted, her voice wavering slightly. “However, it does hold a lot of items, and I did manage to get a chair inside.”
“A chair?” The elder’s eyebrows lifted in mild surprise.
“Yeah, um… I haven’t been able to pull it back out yet, though…” Ravina added, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
“Interesting…” The room fell into a heavy silence as the judges began to jot down notes, their quills scratching against parchment. Ravina’s heart pounded in her chest, the quiet only amplifying her anxiety.
“Thank you, Young Lady Ravenshield. We will let you know our decision,” the elder finally said, looking up from his notes.
Ravina blinked once, then twice his words slowly sinking in. that was it?
“Was there something else?”
“Oh, n-no, uh… thank you for your time,” Ravina stammered, standing up from the chair quite quickly. Her legs felt unsteady beneath her as she awkwardly bowed and made her way out of the room, her robe whispering against the stone floor. The door closed softly behind her, and as soon as she was out of sight, she let out a long, shaky breath. “Fuck…well, it could have been worse.