As Firi and her father left the markets, they joined a stream of others walking along the main road towards the academy. The occasional horse-drawn carriage passed by their side, each bearing a different family insignia. Whenever one did, the people in the line craned their necks to catch a glimpse of who was inside, but most of them had covered windows. Firi couldn’t tell which ones were more important than the rest, their universal usage of gold accents and exotic woods made it very difficult. The girl’s father pointed out the ones to avoid as they passed by, but she got the feeling that she should just avoid all of them.
The queue they followed was almost entirely commoners; the farmers, tailors, and blacksmiths. There were also a few nobles that joined them in the line, and Firi reasoned that they were either born with lower blood or had other reasons. The nobles were rather easy to identify, their tight collars and pristine fabrics stood out amongst the worn out and simple attire of everyone else, herself included.
She examined herself, the plain linen shirt that she wove on her own was tucked into her trousers, its loops secured by a thick leather belt at her waist. There was no doubt she was a farmer’s daughter, her unwhitened clothing, elbow length sleeves, and loose-fitting pants were evidence of that. The boots that she wore were recently cleaned of their usual layers of soil, and she hoped they didn’t judge based on how bright one’s shoe could shine.
This was the first, and hopefully only time that she agreed to wear an outfit organized by her father, his usual taste in fashion involving too many layers. Thankfully, he didn’t flaunt the one silk blouse he owned, dyed with a rich purple hue. If he did, a flock of nobles would have likely attempted to tear it off his body and accuse him of thievery. At least, that is what Firi thought would happen.
“You’re looking at me like I’ve got bad taste,” he said. “I can see you squint your eyes at me.”
Caught red-handed, she turned her face away.
“I may be a fool, but I’m not an idiot,” he continued. “I’m dressing like this for you.”
Her father wore clothes much like her own, a plain farmer’s outfit. He had a large handmade bag slung over one shoulder, with Firi’s cloak over the other.
“Some people here seem determined to wear the worst clothing… or even speak the worst tongues.” He looked at her and she peered back up at him. “I know. It’s quite an unfortunate truth.”
He looked away, avoiding her curious eyes, his words coming from a place far out of sight.
“Nobles… tend to have more intolerance than money. Please be careful.”
There was a story to pry at here, some great secret that would reveal to her what had happened to him, or even what had happened to her mother. She was curious, ravenous even, to learn the parts of his life that her father hid far too well. But at the same time, she knew it was wrong to do so, she knew that it was painful. She didn’t want to make him cry.
Firi kept her eyes on her feet, ashamed to have thought this much about digging up old wounds. She tried to listen in on conversations around them as a distraction, but the many unfamiliar languages and dialects made that difficult. The chatter around her was a reminder of how far people had come for this opportunity, grasping at that slim chance of standing on equal ground with the nobles. Much like her father, each person here had a story, secrets to never spill, and plenty of tragedies by the hands of nobles. Have the nobles changed within such a short period of time? Would they even accept commoners as they had promised?
“Still nervous?” Her father spoke again, the sadness in his voice no longer present.
She nodded slowly; eyes still aimed at the ground.
“If you fail then we’ll just go back home, and nothing will change,” he reassured. “Sometimes it’s nice when nothing changes.”
The further along they traveled the quieter the people spoke, and as the road inclined higher the distant grey silhouette of the academy became much clearer. She thought the academy would be a collection of large buildings with minor fortifications, but what she saw was completely out of her expectations. Cold grey walls extended out both ways to enclose the rest of the academy, interrupted by round drum towers. Slots carved out in an irregular pattern along the walls allowed for glimpses of the lightless interior to peer through, and with that darkness was the feeling of unkind eyes watching.
Beyond the walls stood a cluster of great stone towers, their construction hauntingly sharp, as if made to pierce the sky itself. They used the same terracotta tile roofing as all the other buildings Firi had seen in the city, but at an angle that seemed impossible for them to stay in place. Much more ordinary buildings peaked out from in between the spires, their blatant nobility somehow the most comforting amongst the rest of the constructions.
Small human figures walked between their stone battlements on top the walls, indicating that each block was as large as a person. Some held bows large enough to spot from far below them, their arrows drawn and aimed at the approaching people, prepared to kill. But the truly frightening ones were ones that held just an arm in front of them, as if they could crush the walking peasants with the palm of a hand.
Firi wanted to ask her father for her cloak back, but she feared that doing so would warrant unwanted attention. His face showed no sign of fear, the strange confidence bringing some relief to the girl, as if he was untouchable.
“Nobles are cautious, always in fear of being stabbed in the back. If you act like a threat then they will deal with you like one,” he said.
She thought his confidence in the face of numerous weapons would also be considered a threat, her concern clearly displayed on her face.
“Nobility here deal with disobedient commoners so much that they expect us to infuriate and displease them. Who will they train their eyes on? An arrogant farmer and his fearful daughter? Or…” he tilted his head towards some of the people in line, “the hooded figures walking with their heads to the ground?”
She looked at the hooded figures, definitely commoners like her but terribly suspicious at the same time.
“Also, I’m a terrible actor.”
The path they walked on grew narrower as they approached the entrance to the academy. Now much higher in elevation, the pair could see the city sprawl out beneath them, contained by its walls. Right below them, the dreaded markets that they passed through earlier was still flooded with travelers. The road they currently walked on snaked backwards, down and around the markets, with branches splitting off into the distance. The varying shades of red terracotta roofing blended together, forming the Blood Lake. It was the nickname given for how the capital appeared from any high vantage point, as well as the lake north of the city where miscreants were often thrown into.
Once Firi reached the entrance of the academy, it further cemented the idea that this place was less of an academy and more like a prison. Three gates punched holes out of the stone wall in front of them, and at the immediate left and right sides stood two smaller drum towers. The wide stairway leading up to the gates was flanked on either side by a line of guards, while the towers held more eyes from above.
At each gate stood a guard underneath the raised portcullises, their spears held horizontally. Their posture was so inhumanly rigid and movement so refined that it made it difficult to consider them human beings. Their armor covered everything, besides the T-shaped opening in their helmets which revealed no personality to identify. The metal they donned polished blindingly bright, but being non-magic meant that she couldn’t tell if there was more that a mage would be able to see. Periodically, they would raise and lower their spears to allow people to enter and exit the fortress-like complex.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The queue split into two, slowly advancing through the left and center gate, while the right gate was used by those exiting the academy. As they drew nearer, Firi could see that the gates formed tunnels ten or so paces long, with bright sunlight shining through from the other side. Within that dim corridor was a square hole carved out of the wall, secured by metal bars blocking anything larger than a fist from passing into the room behind.
“Next!” a man from within the gate shouted.
The guard lifted his spear, allowing for them to pass into the center gate. As she walked by, she noticed his eyes were not fixated on Firi and her father, but instead the queue that extended far behind them. She let go of her father’s arm for the first time in a while, in an attempt to not appear as clingy.
Behind the window in the wall was a man sitting at a table. Within that dingy room, stacks of paper piled high on either side of his workspace, much like the towers of the academy. His face was almost as old as her father, yet it retained sharp features that indicated some kind of physical training. He wore no armor, instead wearing a deep black coat with one side overlapping the other, held down by a line of golden buttons. The other side of the coat had buttons just for the sake of appearance, the only thing nobles cared about besides gold. The edge of his folded collar was hemmed with gold colored thread, and the cuffs of his sleeves had a golden band woven into each. His unkempt black hair and heavily worked hands told her that this man was not nobility. No noble would ever subject themselves to sitting in such a small room.
Considering the other gate directly behind the wall of his room, it made sense that there was a ladder in the corner of that cramped space. In the other corner stood a much younger man, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. He wore the same black coat, the only difference being the cuffs of his sleeves were woven with two gold bands each. Firi wasn’t sure what it meant, but the fact he was doing less work indicated that he may be of higher rank within the academy.
“Good afternoon,” the inspector greeted. “Welcome to Kaliston Mage’s Academy.”
“Good afternoon to you,” her father replied. “How is your day?”
“Not great. To be honest, sometimes I wish we had more gates.” The inspector let out a dry chuckle as he separated a thick stack of papers onto the table in front of him. “Let’s get this over and done with. Applicant name?”
“Firisae.” Her father gestured towards her.
The inspector began to flip through pages, reading each one as fast as he could. He eventually stopped on a page, before he alternated between looking at Firi and what was written on it several times. Her father had said he had everything sorted out, but she didn’t quite know what that entailed. All she knew was that he sent a letter a while back, meaning that despite the academy allowing commoners to enter, being able to read and write would be barrier for many.
“12?” The man looked at her quizzically.
“Yes. She’s just short,” her father laughed.
The inspector’s eyes darted back and forth between Firi and her father. He then dipped his pen into a small ink well, before writing something.
“Quite a unique name,” he remarked. “Relation to applicant?”
“Father.”
Again, he scribbled onto the page in front of him. “Please declare any and all weapons in your possession.”
“Just this one.”
From the bag on his shoulder, he pulled out a sheathed short sword, the cutting edge about as long as his forearm. It was a strange one, solely made of metal, the hilt and sheath lacking any kind of decoration or comfort. The grip of the blade was covered with a neat array of bumps, while the sheath was a pitch-black metal, simultaneously reflective yet reflecting nothing. She knew this blade, a blade she had seen once before. Why had he brought it here?
The inspector examined the weapon and finished writing on his paper, before adding it to the growing pile at his side.
“You may proceed to the gathering point for… Group D.”
“Thank you.” Her father bowed slightly with Firi following his lead.
When they emerged from the dim tunnel, the bright sunshine blinded Firi for a very long moment. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden light, she found herself standing at the edge of a courtyard, its large stone bricks a pastel yellow. The courtyard itself was as large as her village’s square, about a hundred paces long on each side. Bordering the edge sat lines of short hedges, fencing in manicured gardens that grew vibrant flowers she couldn’t identify. Infrequent lamps dotted the surrounding courtyard and gardens, but instead of the cheaper firebug enclosures, she could see a wick and oil reservoir in each one.
The spire-like towers that rose into the sky turned out to be more distant than what was visible from the outside, and she was glad that the academy wasn’t entirely prison. The cluster of buildings essentially formed a small town, the difference being the extreme change between the shortest and tallest ones. The higher up she looked, the less windows there were, but the distinctive glint of sunlight in all of them told her it was all glass. The lower-lying buildings were much more varied in style, some were rectangular and stout, while others were built like a noble’s mansion.
“Wow.” Was all her father could utter. Despite his confidence, it seemed this was his first time stepping within a space like this.
In the center of the courtyard, a series of squares were marked out in chalk, with a letter assigned to each one. In each box stood groups of people of wildly different ages and different origins. Judging from a distance, the ages for those that were waiting ranged from twelve to their mid-twenties. The mixture of skin tones and hair colors mirrored what she saw in the markets, and some of them styled their hair in ways she never learned. Firi's unstyled light brown hair fell just past her shoulders, being more practical than aesthetic, but at least it was washed the previous day.
Beyond the squares, lines of people appeared to be taking the test, each applicant sitting on the ground with an academy mage kneeling behind them.
“Off you go.” Her father gently nudged her towards Group D. “Remember to breathe. Do your best.”
Firi waved at her father and made her way to her designated waiting area. As she approached, she could see varying degrees of nervousness on each of the applicant’s faces. There was also a brown-haired noble in her group, laughing and conversing with the others. She stepped closer to the gathering of people around him to hear what was so interesting. Perhaps not all nobles were bad.
“Yeah, so if you guys ever see a firebug or oil streetlamp around the city, you better thank my brother. He’s the one that made it happen. I guess you’ll be thanking him a lot!” the noble laughed alone.
At least he wasn’t calling everyone a peon. He continued talking about his brother as the group provided only bare minimum responses to keep him going. It seemed they all listened to him out of boredom.
Firi watched as a young woman approach Group D, her coat black with two gold bands, the same rank as the slacking guard in the inspection gate. Attached to her side was a decorated broadsword, gold encrusted and embedded with jewels of all kinds. Her face carried several scars, her hands large and rough from unknown battles. Beside her, was an older man with three gold bands.
“Good. Looks like everyone is here,” she spoke. “Attention!”
The woman’s coarse and booming voice silenced everyone, as they all turned to look at her.
“I am Instructor Haren, and welcome, to the best mage academy in this glorious country of Ralm,” she bellowed out, her next words limping after it under her breath. “Otherwise known as Sepulche-Ralm.”
She cleared her throat before continuing. “Consider yourselves lucky, peons.”
A wave of murmurs passed by everyone as the noble raised his hand in objection. But before he could open his mouth, he was quickly shot down by a stern glare from the woman.
“I’m sure the rumors have reached your ears by now. Yes, anyone can wield magic.”
Her words stirred up the crowd, some of them sitting up straighter, while others shifted closer.
“We need you. For far too long, magic was limited to a select few, but now, you have the opportunity to become truly gifted. Join us, and you will be blessed with a life of discovery, adventure, and riches,” she preached. “We are all gathered here today to test your potential. To determine if you have what it takes to become an elite mage.”
“Here is how this will work. My superior here,” she gestured to the man beside her, “and I, will assess your elemental affinity and direct you to the senior students behind me. From there, all of you together will learn and perform a basic magic spell, within a set time limit. We will choose the most promising candidates, and the rest of you will be sent home. Remain silent as we conduct the testing. We will call upon you at random for affinity measurements. I wish you the best of luck.”
The instructor looked at the applicants in the group. “Half-noble, it’s your lucky day. You’re first.”
Not much older than Firi, the noble boy begrudgingly stepped forward. He turned to face the instructor while the man stood behind him. The man placed one of his large hands on the boy’s back while the woman held both of the boy’s hands out in front. Firi couldn’t quite see what was going on, but she could see the boy grit his teeth and visibly tremble. The air around them felt viscous and turbulent, even though her eyes told her that nothing was really happening. Just as quick as it started, the alleged half-noble was released.
“Lightning affinity. Meet with the student furthest left, in the first row,” Instructor Haren announced.
The noble boy left, and more candidates were called upon, each being tested in turn. Each one was assigned an element and sent off towards the rows of senior students behind. Firi closed her eyes and wished for water. It looked the most practical for daily life, but she also heard mages could cast water cannons and water-based healing magic. Too many times she fell asleep to her father's story of the mage that could walk underneath the sea. Or the mage that could lift an entire ocean to defend a port town from an invasion. Or the mage that watered an entire kingdom's crops for several days. She knew these were unrealistic, but a small part of her hoped that wasn’t the case.
“Short one. You’re next.”
With her father’s encouragement echoing within her mind, she knew even if she achieved nothing, going home was not something to be dreaded. She composed herself and took a few deep breaths. It wouldn’t hurt to try.