The Nest gave me nearly a week of free time before they came to collect me. During that time, I practiced magic on my own and enjoyed every second. Although I lacked the structure that Griste provided, I still continued to develop my magical skills. In addition, I did not have to fear getting hit in the head with a flying metal object or having to deal with the rancid smell the skinwalker possessed.

I no longer had to focus on one kind of magic and could experiment with whatever I wanted. I tried levitation, though I abandoned such attempts when I realized the breastplate did not protect my arms or legs and when it drained my Aura in minutes. On the upside, my balance improved from trying not to fall onto my face.

Aside from levitation, I tried telepathy, telekinesis, healing magic, and communication with animals. I never outright failed in any of them, but I did not consider them successes either. I could communicate with others, but my messages were always lacking. Sometimes they were too loud or too soft to be understood. With animals, I could communicate my emotions and, in return, understand the instincts of the animals I “talked” to.

Over that seven-day period, I received more pieces of the armor. First came the pauldrons, then the plackart, and then the rest of the arm armor. I never got the lower half in time, but what I got fitted me just as well as the breastplate, the metal transforming to fit my body to perfection.

And I did not take the armor off for the entire week. I wore it to bed, to meals, and to my academic lessons. The looks I received for doing so varied from person to person. My parents found the etiquette improper but said nothing about it. My teachers said nothing about it, but they gave me looks of confusion and plenty of double takes. Because most of them came from Pangea, I assumed magic kept them from noting the breastplate.

Bathing became the only time that I took the armor off. Not only did I have to take it off to remove my clothes, but the tight fitting nature of the metal prevented the water from working its way into my skin.

That one week of freedom allowed me to forget about the recent events, and I took every opportunity to make the most of it before I knew it would end.

On the seventh day, a small blue man with dirty gray horns and a suit came to our door. My parents did not need to tell me what I needed to do. On the second day after my return, the same blue man came to our home to inform me and my parents of the details of my mission.

The training would take place in a small camp near the bottom of Arindoth, where we would remain for a month before being allowed to go back to our families for a week, though everything we would need would be provided for us. There would be no contact with anyone outside of the camp during that time, though they could send trinkets and gifts. That meant I could take my armor, and it elated me to know it would come with me.

Despite telling us when he would be back, the date felt years away, and when the knock on the door came, I heard it all the way from the garden. It surprised me, and I froze, causing my magic to implode mid casting.

“They’re here,” my mother said, standing up from her chair.

Her words knocked me out of shock, and I started casting magic to clean myself of the mess I made. Checking myself over to approve of my appearance, I followed my mother.

The same blue man who gave us the specifics waited for our arrival with my father. When we came into view, the two stopped their conversation and looked at me. Even my mother participated, creating an island between me and everyone else.

“Is something-” I began, only for my mother to cut me off in a hug.

“It’s so soon,” she whispered into my ear.

“I know, I know, but this was bound to happen sooner or later,” I replied.

“You just left,” she mourned, hugging me tighter.

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever. I’ll be back before you know it!”

She did not want to let me go for another full minute, and only after my father cleared his throat did she let me go after planting a kiss on my head.

“Does she have everything?” the blue man asked.

“Give us a moment,” my father answered, kneeling next to me and grabbing my shoulders. “This will be the first time you interact with a family employed by The Nest. While none of them have been through the same hardships as you, do not think that that puts you above them. They’ve had their own struggles that have strengthened them. While you have made leaps and bounds in your magic, so have they.

But even if you are not the greatest practitioner of magic, I want you to promise me something. Promise me you will hold your head up high and prove to them what it means to be a Medvedev.”

“I can do that,” I replied, confused by the seriousness with which he spoke.

My father smiled and ruffled my hair as he stood up. “Make us proud.”

The blue man, his face filled with the telltale signs of boredom, started taping his sides to gain our attention.

“With all due respect, we still have several children to pick up. Every minute wasted here is a minute of The Nest’s wasted,” he said.

“Best be on your way then,” my father replied.

“Indeed. Come.”

Giving my parents one last look, I followed the short man out the door, only to pause from the shock of the sight waiting for me. In front of the mansion stood an enormous, skeletal horse that reached the highest point of my house. Upon closer inspection, I noticed a ghostly outline around the bones, giving the beast the transparent skin it lacked. Its mane burned like blue fire.

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The ribcage of the horse struck me as strange. Their sternum extended from their shoulders to their back legs, and their ribs remained the same length the whole way down. The result made the latter part of the word "ribcage" take on a literal meaning. The sight of three other children sitting and standing inside it did nothing to change the perspective.

Every step toward the horse created a pit in my chest as the size of the creature became apparent, forcing me to crane my head to see it. The children on the inside watched my approach, and one went so far as to wave at me. I returned the wave, but I did not meet their eyes; my gaze focused instead on the horse, trying to make heads or tails of what to think.

“Brace yourself,” the short man instructed.

Before I could look down at him to ask him what he meant, he snapped his fingers, and an invisible force picked me up. The speed at which the force flung me into the ribcage provoked a yelp from my lips and a grunt when I hit the bone.

“Ow,” I mumbled as I tried to stand up.

The moment I found my footing, the beast took off, and I understood why the man told me to brace myself. The acceleration threw me off my feet, and I hit my head on the sternum.

“Ow,” I repeated.

“Told you it would happen to her,” one boy sneered at another.

“Like you did any better,” the other shot back.

A British man and a Frenchman, I noted as I repositioned myself into a sitting position.

“There, it’s settled. Can the two of you shut up now?” the girl replied, rolling her eyes.

Unlike the other two, she did not look like anyone I had seen. I knew she came from Asia, but not the specific country.

“Is there something on my face?” she asked when she noticed my stare.

“Oh, no, not at all; I’ve just never seen someone from…” I trailed off.

“Japan. Shimazu Masako,” she answered, giving me a bow, which I returned as best I could while sitting.

I found myself unable to take my eyes off the girl as I looked her over time and time again. Fine green silk made up her clothes, and a sash decorated with flowers wrapped around her waist. I hesitated to call it a dress as she sat on her knees, preventing me from seeing the ends, but the way it clung to her legs also gave me doubt.

As strange and interesting as I found her appearance, I found the possessions she brought with her even more so. While I had armor, she brought weapons—four of them.

A bow sat at her side, with a quiver of arrows strapped to her backside. The weapon she had strapped across her back was one I did not recognize, and its handle was just as long as its curved place. Her final two weapons were both curved swords, one longer than the other. She had both attached to her right side, with the longer of the two on top.

While I might have felt intimidated by being surrounded by so many sharp objects, nothing suggested Shimazu was. She carried each weapon like any other part of her body. The spotless appearance of each, despite the rough look of her hands, told me they were all well cared for.

“Henry Gauthier—son of Duke Albert Gauthier of the Gauthier family—at your service,” the French boy interrupted, stepping into my view.

“George Montimer, son of Baron Jones Montimer,” his British counterpart added. “While my family may have a lower title than Henry here, we are no lower than the Gauthiers.”

“Sure,” Henry mocked while rolling his eyes.

Like the Japanese girl, the two of them brought along weapons of their own, though not as many.

The French boy had an arming sword and a shield to go with it. A coat of arms in the form of a white, fire-breathing dragon on a white and black background decorated the shield. His sword lacked any notable decorations on the scabbard, and the handle did it no favors. Sweat stained the leather, while the handguard had nicks all across its length. At a second glance, I realized his shield suffered from similar mistreatment. Like Shimazu's, constant use had roughed up his hands.

The English boy brought with him a claymore, which he leaned against his shoulder as he sat. The size of the blade would have made it to his shoulders if the two stood up straight. Unlike his French counterpart, his equipment looked fresh from the forge. The lack of a scabbard allowed us to see the full length of the sword, which boasted bountiful engravings of runes running almost half the length of the blade. The handle also lacked the same sweat as the arming sword. His hands lacked much of the coarseness his counterparts had.

Silence filled the air between the four of us as we all took each other’s appearance in, but after several minutes, I realized I hadn’t introduced myself.

“Guinevere Medvedev, daughter of Boyar Boris Medvedev and Yelena Medvedeva,” I said, hoping they understood my English.

“Oh yeah, the Russians don’t do the whole king thing, do they? They have that Tsar fellow, right?” George commented, finding more amusement in the fact than I would expect.

“Yes, Tsar Alexis, I believe. I don’t pay attention to the Tsardom more than I have to, though,” I replied.

“What’s it like living under a Tsar? Is he like a King? Is he different? How much power does he have? What about the Boyars? How much power do they have?” Henry interjected, firing off each question without bothering to take a breath in between them.

“What about all the land east? Isn’t there plenty of territory Russia could conquer? Is the Tsar not willing to dedicate the forces to do it? Or are there other reasons for his inactivity?” George added.

The barrage of questions left me unable to focus on which one or who to start with. It suffocated me, and because I could not back up without falling through the ribs, they had me trapped. The two exasperated the problem when I realized something I had not realized moments earlier.

This was my first proper interaction with a boy. I talked to my father all the time, but he was the exception. We had no butlers, and I stayed away from any men that came into the house. There was Griste, but I struggled to see him as a man; he was just a wretched thing that oozed a rancid stench.

“I-well-um,” I stammered, trying and failing to gather my thoughts.

“Where’s your weapon?” Shimazu asked, offering me an escape from the questions I could not think of answers for.

“I don’t have one, just this armor,” I replied.

“Then what do you fight with?” she asked.

“I don’t really fight at all, but I’m fairly handy with magic,,” I answered.

To prove my point, I created a small figurine of light and made it do a little dance. After it finished the dance, I made the figure explode, sending a weak but notable shockwave that hit everyone. The gazes I received for making something as simple as I did confused me.

“Can’t you do something similar?” I inquired.

“Yes, but I have a katana and yumi for a reason,” Shimazu answered, one hand moving to the longer of her two swords and another going for her bow.

“She’s right. Why would we bother with that kind of magic? I mean, yeah, I can use it, but only to make myself stronger or faster. That kind of thing, so I can use my sword,” George replied, receiving a nod of agreement from Henry.

“It’s not that hard. Elemental magic is the easiest type to use,” I argued, wrapping fire around my body to prove my point.

The two boys moved away from the sudden increase in heat. At the same time, they raised their hands toward it, going so far as to rub their hands together.

“Can you keep that up? Russia is freezing in the spring,” George requested.

“I guess, but it’s not that bad,” I replied, increasing the heat of the flames.

“No. It’s bad,” Henry countered.