Lance paced restlessly in his room. Two weeks had passed since he submitted his letter to the Academy of Aether Reach. In all his life, he had never felt such overwhelming anxiety as during these two interminable weeks. For him, this was more than an application; it was his ticket out of the gutter and a chance to pursue his ambitions.

He lived in a small province of the Elven Kingdom of Aurgross, the most powerful nation on the continent. Yet, the grandeur of the kingdom was a distant idea to Lance. His home was in an inconsequential region, populated mostly by humans—a stark contrast to the predominantly elvish country. Their inclusion in the state was more an artifact of ancient maps than any practical purpose.

His home was small but cozy. The youngest in a family of five children and the only boy, Lance's upbringing among four sisters had not been an easy one. He often felt out of place, especially as his boyish energy clashed with the serene and structured routines of his sisters. His mother would often say, "My dear boy, you must stop isolating yourself. You’ll grow old and lonely," but her words felt more like a burden than advice. His father, on the other hand, seemed quietly proud when Lance immersed himself in their grandfather’s books, though he rarely voiced it. The household was shaped to raise daughters, with frequent visits to aunts and other female relatives.

In his early years, this highly social environment had its advantages, aiding his development. However, as he grew older, his boyish energy emerged during puberty. He wanted to roughhouse, play soldier, and pursue the activities boys his age enjoyed. These, however, held little interest for his sisters and cousins. Gradually, he found himself excluded from these predominantly female spaces.

Lance’s grandfather, long dead before his birth, was a renowned alchemist and astronomer. His achievements were well-known, even in this remote corner of the kingdom, and they afforded Lance a proper education. In his loneliness, Lance immersed himself in his grandfather’s old books on alchemy and astronomy, dedicating his teenage years to their study. This obsession gave him an outlet for his adventurous side, especially in the form of experiments with explosives and dangerous chemicals. However, this passion often led to trouble, such as the time he nearly burned down the neighborhood on the eve of Nebelass with his homemade fireworks.

Despite his growing knowledge, Lance struggled socially. Years spent among his sisters and cousins made it hard for him to connect with his male peers. Though respected for his firecrackers and fireworks, he was considered odd. He failed to understand their banter and often took jokes personally, assuming they mocked or hated him.

By the age of eighteen, Lance had only one close friend, Ben. Both felt out of place in their little world, and their shared sense of alienation made them fast friends. While Ben leaned toward art and poetry—much to the disappointment of Lance’s mother, a talented poet herself—Lance excelled in the sciences. Despite their differences, their intellectual compatibility fueled hours of debate on social and philosophical topics.

Their conversations often turned to Tarranvale, their struggling town. It was situated at the slope of the great mountain Frostspire. On the other side lay the dreaded Deadlands. Little was known about the Deadlands; most information was suppressed. From what Lance had gathered, it was a bitterly cold and inhospitable place. The Deadlands’ frozen winds sometimes swept through Tarranvale, devastating crops even in the height of summer. Yet, the Lords clung to the idea of the town as a farming hub, ignoring its repeated failures. To Lance, their stubbornness mirrored the kingdom’s broader inefficiencies, fueling his desire for a new approach—perhaps something akin to Concordia’s radical reforms.

The news from across the ocean thrilled Lance. Concordia, a distant nation, had recently deposed its monarchy and implemented sweeping changes. Its revolutionary governance system fascinated him: rulers were chosen by elections held across eleven states, with a candidate needing to win the majority to secure leadership. The only comparable system Lance could think of was Aurgross, where major towns elected Lords, and the Lords in turn selected the central High Lords, with the top vote-getter crowned as King.

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What fascinated Lance most about Concordia was its attempt to remove the influence of rulers from citizens' daily lives. From what he had overheard in Aether Reach, Concordia’s policies emphasized letting each region and culture make decisions suited to their unique needs. This concept of decentralization inspired Lance, who envisioned Tarranvale abandoning its futile farming efforts and embracing its geography to find a new path.

Ben, however, remained skeptical. "Radical change doesn’t solve everything," he often argued. "Tarranvale doesn’t need bold reforms; it needs funding and support." Their debates, though heated, fueled Lance’s determination. He began to believe that the only way to enact change was to first gain the knowledge and connections offered by the Arcano-Technical College of Aether Reach.

The grand city of Aether Reach was rumored to be the richest in the world, an autonomous hub famed for its relaxed regulations, cutting-edge advancements, and its prestigious Academy. Though Lance lacked the innate talent for arcane magic, he aimed to study natural sciences, especially astronomy. The Academy’s observatory, one of the most advanced in the world, was a significant draw for him.

The entrance exam was held annually in the kingdom’s capital. To afford the journey, Lance saved for two years, working tirelessly on Taran’s farm. Standing six feet tall and unusually strong for his age, he was well-suited to the labor. Even so, the week-long journey to the capital strained his resources. He barely ate, spending his meager funds on the stagecoach and lodging.

Arriving at the capital, Lance was awestruck. Towers of stone and metal pierced the sky, streets buzzed with life, and for the first time, he saw dwarves, halflings, and other races. The exam took place in a grand marble building adorned with statues and the sigil of Aether Reach: a roaring lion’s head on a white and blue background, trimmed with gold and silver.

The exam itself was as challenging as it was fascinating. Lance was asked about his background and magical abilities, followed by a scan that confirmed his negligible aetheric potential. The written portion tested his knowledge of alchemy and astronomy—areas where he excelled—and posed abstract, open-ended questions to gauge his intuition and reasoning. When it was over, he was told that successful candidates would receive a letter in two weeks, and someone would escort them to the Academy. As the Academy was funded by the city itself, it had no tuition, and admission was granted only through merit or referral.

Since returning home, Lance spent most of his time at his grandfather’s old workshop, a secluded oak cabin ideal for stargazing. Isolating himself from family and friends, he felt a growing distance from everyone. His father, proud of Lance’s intellectual pursuits, visited frequently, reminiscing about his own time in the cabin with Lance’s grandfather. His mother, however, worried about her son’s lack of friends and social engagement.

"My dear boy, put away those old scrolls," she would often say. "You must get out, be a part of our community." Her greatest fear was that Lance would grow old and lonely, especially since he showed no interest in marriage—a common milestone for young men in their twenties.

One afternoon, a soft knock at the cabin door broke Lance’s solitude. He peered through the window and saw Ben waiting outside. Lean and sharp-featured, with tired, dark eyes, Ben was dressed neatly in his usual dark attire, practical despite his artistic nature.

"Are the results in yet?" Ben asked without preamble as Lance opened the door.

"I don’t know," Lance replied. "I’ll need to go to Tarranvale to check, but if it had arrived, my mother would have brought it here by now."

Ben stepped inside, his tone curious. "Do you know how they’re delivering the results?"

"Why do you ask?" Lance asked, immediately suspicious. Ben rarely posed questions without reason.

"The farmer I work for mentioned a strange stagecoach arriving in Tarranvale. He said it looked fancy but odd—not something the central lords would use."

Lance’s heart sank. If true, this could mean someone from Aether Reach had arrived with the results. Anxiety gnawed at him. "Why wouldn’t they just use the postal system?" he thought, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I’d better head to town," Lance said. "If they’ve sent someone, I need to be there before the locals scare them away."

"I can’t wait to see your face when they hand you the rejection letter," Ben said with a sly grin.

Lance chuckled nervously. "If that happens, I’ll find a rock to weigh me down in the river. That’ll give you an even better scene to enjoy."

The two set off toward Tarranvale. The midday sun blazed overhead, casting the sky in pale blue hues, but to Lance, its light only deepened the shadow of uncertainty that hung over him with every step.