“We don’t have to attend. We can leave right now,” Penny whispered to Zeek as Sirius greeted the doorman. They were closer to the fortress now, in one of the nicer neighborhoods. Neatly arranged streets, clean walkways, and well-maintained buildings made it clear wealth was present. The manor they’d come to was similar to the earl’s, a row of townhomes combined to form a large complex.

The doorman bowed as Sirius showed him an invitation and followed the servant inside. The entry hall was ornate, soft rugs woven with scenes of animals cushioning the floor. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling above a grand staircase that spiraled into a series of rooms on the second floor. The servant led them directly into a ballroom.

Zeek leaned in to whisper in Penny’s ear. “It’ll be fine. I have to get accustomed to seeing clergy a bit. If the archbishop’s here, we’ll leave quickly.” She nodded but her shoulders remained tense as the two wooden doors carved with flowers opened to a room filled with dozens of people.

On one side were windows showing the street, musicians huddled nearby playing stringed instruments just quiet enough to allow for conversation. The main floor was covered in tall tables where groups of people congregated and talked idly. Waiters waded silently through the crowd carrying trays of food and drinks. The opposite wall had a series of glass doors that led into a garden, similar to the earl’s, except where the earl placed tables, this home had couches and pillows arranged between the flowerbeds so guests could lounge in the comfortable night air. Torches lining the pathways provided light outside, while hundreds of softly glowing yellow crystals dangled from the ceiling of the ballroom.

Sirius turned to them as they entered the room, and Zeek ignored a few glances from the current occupants. “Remember, we can’t use our own names tonight. But I know who the current candidates are. We’re all wearing masks of creatures from the wilderness,” he explained.

Sirius tapped his mask, which looked like a flat-faced boar with red tusks aside a fat snout and a strip of bone on the forehead. In place of his blonde hair, he wore a brown wig that matched the color of the mask’s leather. “What should we call each other then?” Penny asked.

She wore a mask based on fairies from a children’s tales. It was white as chalk and narrowed into a button nose, while her lips were emerald green with matching eyebrows. She wore a wig that shifted between azure and aquamarine depending how the light hit it. Zeek wore the devil’s mask with a matching black wig that draped down to the small of his back.

Sirius pointed at them in turn, “Fairy. Devil. Boar.” With a flourish he raised his mask, winked, then pulled it back down and hurried towards the garden. Several people waved or raised a glass as the three mages walked by, but they didn’t interrupt the march. A step down the garden path and they reached a gathering of seven sitting in errantly placed wooden chairs, all in rust-colored robes.

The smell of red wine greeted Zeek as he stepped over an empty bottle and into the ring of people who varied between sitting, standing, or lying on the ground. The war mage candidates were easy to recognize by their wilderness-themed masks, all animals twisted by the rough environment.

A fox head with black fur and red eyes, a viper with yellow stones arranged in a diamond shape on each side of its poison sacs, a humanoid-type goblin that looked like a green-skinned child scrunching their face in rage, a dragon that looked like…well, a dragon, and a female mage wearing a butterfly mask with beetle-like pincers near the corners of its mouth. There were two others; one was a blonde man with trimmed hair wearing a blank white mask with a thick moustache and matching eyebrows that slanted inwards.

Zeek knew in an instant that was Turgi; he even held his hands behind his back while he watched the candidates. The final person wore a silver mask with gold-coated lines curving away from her eyes and geometric patterns carved neatly along the edges. She had light brown hair that fell to her shoulders. Zeek wasn’t sure who she was.

Sirius didn’t pause to examine the others. “Hello, comrades! It is I, the Red-Tusked Boar, come for libations and reveling.”

Some laughed, some groaned, and the fox chided, “Sirius, it’s bad manners to come without a fresh bottle of booze.”

“I am not Sirius. I am the boar…but I did perhaps forget to bring a drink.”

“That’s our Sirius, too excited to think straight. Just like a puppy,” the fox laughed.

“Don’t be mean to my Sirius, Mordicus. It’s cute how excitable he is. Earl, can I take him home tonight?” the viper asked. Zeek noticed she wore a low-cut dress with blue fabric and nested circular patterns over her…curvy parts. She held out her arms and wriggled her fingers towards Sirius. The young noble looked at the sky and ignored her.

“You’re flirting with death, my dear. Priscilla is the only woman he’ll ever know,” Turgi replied, garnering a laugh from Zeek. The viper whined then giggled and lifted her mask slightly to take a swig from her wine bottle.

The goblin sat at a small table to the side and pecked away at cheese with a finger-sized fork while interjecting, “Sirius, introduce us to your friends, especially the one in the fairy mask.” Accepting the task, Sirius cleared his throat and held out his hand towards Zeek and Penny.

“Fairy is a first-year healer,“ he said as a cheer went up from the candidates, “and the devil is working on becoming one of us.” Another cheer followed, and Zeek noticed Turgi and the woman whispering to each other on a bench near the group. Sirius turned to hail a server and replenish their drink while Zeek and Penny took seats near the circle of mages.

The dragon spoke first. “Welcome to the year’s first gathering. I’m Felix. Water magic affinity in the same class as Sirius.”

Zeek shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I thought this whole thing was supposed to be anonymous?”

“Anonymous for everyone but us. Once you join, you’ll see. Anyone on the path to nobility becomes part of Lemish politics,” Dragon replied.

The viper extended her hand next. “Aurora, stone magic affinity. I’m also in Sirius’s class.”

“Nice to meet you,” Zeek replied.

“And what’s your name, handsome?” she pressed.

Zeek tapped the mask. “I’m the devil.” The viper giggled then lifted her mask and winked, exposing a pretty, petite face with blue eyes. Penny elbowed him lightly.

“No need for violence, Fairy, I’m Valerio,” the goblin said and extended his hand. “Wind magic affinity and a senior. How much progress have you made on your first spell model?”

“Hopefully another week or so and I’ll finish my first cast,“ Penny replied quietly.

“Well, if you need someone to practice on, my room’s on the second floor.” Zeek imagined Penny’s face was shocked, but with the mask all he could see was her shoulders tense.

The butterfly-masked woman smacked the goblin’s head. “Honestly, between you and Aury every conversation turns sexual.” She reached out and patted Penny on the shoulder. “Don’t mind those two. They’re in a competition to see who can be more foul. Name’s Gelda, a third year with the light affinity.”

Zeek looked at the viper. “Which of you is winning the competition?”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The fox jumped in. “Aury, by my count. She’s an actual lecher. Vale’s dumb lines work one out of every fifty times.”

Valerio threw a chunk of bread at the fox. “That’s why I work fifty times harder than her.”

“Mord, stop being a pick and introduce yourself,” Gelda scolded.

The fox leaned back in his chair and raised a glass of something amber. “Mordicus, illusion affinity and third year. Pleasure to meet you both.”

“Friends of Sirius, eh? You wouldn’t happen to be the first year that beat him in a duel last month, would you?” Felix asked, shifting his head towards Turgi. “No offense, sir.”

Turgi waved his hand. “None taken. The devil did beat the snot out of Sirius, he’s thinking of taking the same path as the captain.”

Sirius stumbled back then,his arms overflowing with wine bottles. Zeek could hear them clinking together as the young noble tried to balance them. “Yes, Ze…the devil beat me in a duel,” he added while kneeling down and dropping the bottles in a pile at the center of the group.

“What spells did you use?” Felix asked.

Zeek raised his fist. “Hand affinity.”

Sirius chuckled. “Felt like a horse kicked me in the stomach.” Felix and Vale laughed as Sirius gave a dramatic retelling of the duel, with a few more jabs and dodges than Zeek remembered. The story ended when Sirius wrapped an arm around Zeek’s shoulder. “...and that’s how we became friends.”

“Men are so stupid,” Aury added, and Penny and Gelda nodded.

“I hope we won’t have to do any sparring this semester. I hated the self-defense classes,” Gelda replied.

Turgi took that as his cue to clap his hands, and said, “About that. I’ll be your teacher this year.” Gasps and groans followed, but Sirius’s wide eyes showed his surprise.

“What happened to Ms. Feltman?” he asked.

“She was asked to participate in a monster subjugation to the east, it could take some time. So they asked me to fill in temporarily.”

“Why didn’t they send you instead, Father?” Sirius wondered.

“Politics, probably. If they send an archmage it makes the whole situation sound worse than it is. No need to worry, Ms. Feltman wanted to do some training and this was a good opportunity,” he explained.

“Earl, I’ve heard you wanted to add sword fighting to the war mage curriculum,” Gelda said.

“Ah yes, and this year we will.” More groans interrupted him until Turgi cleared his throat. ”On that note, let me introduce my co-teacher.” He motioned to the woman sitting next to him, who hadn’t spoken up to this point except in whispers to Turgi.

“Henrica Sampson, knight of the order of the willow,” she said curtly.

“Are you related to Old John?” Zeek asked.

“She’s his niece,” Turgi answered as Henrica nodded.

“Oh wonderful! Does Mother know we’re getting a sword instructor this year?” Sirius asked.

The earl put a finger to his lips. “It’ll be our secret, my boy.”

Zeek could feel Sirius frowning underneath his mask. “But what should I say if she asks?”

“Just lie,” Mord said.

Sirius stared at him, which was made more awkward by the boar-shaped mask he wore. “But I…”

“Can’t lie to M

Turgi sighed audibly. “Worth a shot, I suppose. Your mother knows, she’s…acquiesced.”

Aury brushed her hair back while mumbling something about sweating and exhaustion. “Can I opt out of sword training somehow?” she asked.

The earl nodded. “Actually, yes, there is a way to get out of it.”

“How?”

Turgi pointed at Zeek. “If you beat the devil in a duel, I won’t make you learn sword fighting.” Zeek was glad the mask obscured his eyes, because they were squinting at Turgi. It was obvious the crazy bastard planned on using the duels as an excuse to experiment with him. Not that Zeek minded so much, he was curious how powerful he was compared to the average war mage candidate. Being exposed only to archmages skewed his perspective on what sorcerers could do.

Vale laughed. “I like it. What spells will he use?”

“None, I’ll let him use a wooden sword,” Turgi replied.

“Earl, you don’t think we’re that weak, do you?” Vale replied.

Gelda spoke up. “I won’t be dueling. Mages are weak by themselves. If the devil here is good with a sword, I won’t stand a chance.”

Zeek thought he heard Turgi click his tongue. “Unfortunate, I wanted to see you all duel. But I won’t question your wisdom,” he said.

The rest of the war mage candidates were enthused at the idea of dueling, pushing Turgi to set a time and place so they could be prepared. He agreed to begin the classes with duels the following week. The party continued as the young mages chattered and gossiped about the school and local politics. Zeek and Penny, not knowing much of either, remained quiet, though Zeek made the occasional joke or quip. As the night wore on, the mages became more intoxicated, and the boasting began.

Zeek didn’t drink, concerned over the possibility of clergy stopping by. He hadn’t seen any at the party yet, but that didn’t mean they weren’t lurking. He thought he’d escaped that fear when a man approached in a simple white robe, emblazoned with the Goddess of Light’s symbol on his chest. Zeek nearly jumped out of his seat as the man patted him on the shoulder.

“You must be one of the new potential candidates, I don’t think we’ve met,” the man said with a smile.

“Hello, I’m not a candidate yet. Still learning my first spell, hopefully I join the ranks soon,” Zeek replied. Zeek reached out and shook his hand, steadying himself to be brushed by the insipid mana he’d felt before, but it never came. Zeek was happy the mask covered his wide eyes; he couldn’t understand why he didn’t feel anything from this priest.

“Lentil Sculk, I’m a bishop with the diocese here.”

Zeek tapped his face. “I’m the devil.” The others laughed, the bishop included. Sculk was a younger man, a bit older than Zeek but not by much. He had broad shoulders and a warm face, reminding Zeek of the more affable priests he knew from home.

“Haven’t seen a depiction like that since the seminary, was that from a local shop?” Sculk asked.

Zeek nodded. “I didn’t know what it was till the shopkeeper told me.”

“You must be from the countryside?”

“Yes, a village a week or two from here,” Zeek explained.

“No surprise you haven’t seen that depiction before. It’s only seen in dusty books or artwork these days.”

“Why’s that?” Penny wondered.

Sculk grinned. “Wouldn’t be right scaring folks like that.” Zeek didn’t reply as the group got quiet. Sculk winked and said, “Actually, the printing cost is too expensive, too much black ink.” Another round of laughter ensued as the bishop greeted each of the candidates and waved to Turgi.

As he socialized, Zeek saw Turgi stand and smooth the wrinkles off his pants. “Well, I need another drink. Bishop, can I get you anything?”

Sculk pinched the breast of his robe. “On duty right now or I’d be happy to. Save me a bottle for tomorrow, it’s my day off.”

Zeek slipped out of the group, whispering to Penny that he’d be right back. He followed Turgi into the ballroom and grabbed a fluted glass of something fizzy from a waiter’s tray. They returned to the garden and began a stroll, taking the long way back to the group.

“Something on your mind?” Turgi asked.

“Why is he different?” Zeek whispered.

“No idea. Everyone below archbishop is the same way. When they use their healing spells, the mana’s there; the rest of the time it’s not.”

“He seemed so…” Zeek started.

“Normal?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s a curious thing, isn’t it? Many of the clergy are like him. Affable, service-minded people who worship the Goddess,” Turgi said

“The priests in my town were like that. A bit odd sometimes, but generally well liked. It feels wrong somehow, like there’s something we don’t understand.”

Turgi took a sip from his glass. “There are many things we don’t understand. But on this point, it’s clear. The lower-level clergy are normal decent people, doing what they think is best for the kingdom and the Goddess.”

“So what is it we feel around the others?”

Turgi stopped, watching the bishop stand amongst the war mage candidates in the distance. He shook hands, patted shoulders, ruffled hair, and smiled with them all. “Let me respond with a question. Why is it acceptable to kill an enemy in battle, but against the law to kill an innocent man in the street?”

Zeek paused. “One’s a threat to you and the other isn’t?”

“An answer I’d expect from someone who never killed before. Not wrong, but not right either. The truth is, there is no difference. We’re told killing is good and just in war, and evil in peace. It’s a trick used to fool soldiers and citizens into violence.”

“What’s this have to do with the clergy?” Zeek asked.

“The most insidious evil is disguised as good. It shakes your hand, smiles at you, wishes you well, makes you feel happy and safe, then slips the dagger in your back.”