The silver pendulum swung like a buzzing fly in the otherwise silent hallway. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick—

Unfortunately, Micah couldn’t well go up and swat it. He wondered if this was what purgatory was like. This constant feeling of surface calm, but being ready to panic at a moment’s notice when the time was right. When would the time be right? Another five minutes? Another ten? When would it be his turn to go through that door? Lisa had been in there for ages now. Or maybe just a minute. Or maybe it was an hour. It was hard to tell. Micah heard the clock, but didn’t really glance at it. The only other sign of time passing came from the window at the end of the hallway, which let in a few stray rays of afternoon light.

Micah probably would sit there, motionless for hours if that was how long it took for it to be his turn. He knew the others would have to.

The hallway was wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side with room to spare, despite the chairs and decorations, and though the rays didn’t reveal any dust, Micah still felt like it was a bit stuffy. It could do with a little more sunlight. A few more windows. Maybe it was just his nerves tricking him.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

The only other noises were the shuffling of pants against chair, an occasional cough or scratch, someone searching through papers. Even a gulp was loud enough to be heard, Micah noticed, when he did.

He sat on a chair to one side of the hallway, opposite and a little ways down to the principal's office. There were ferns and glass cases filled trinkets and description cards that he hadn’t taken a clear enough look at to recognize. His portfolio came in the form of thin binder with a handful of pages and a journal lying in his lap. There were only four others with him, though they had been eight earlier. Lisa had been here, sitting right next to him. They hadn’t spoken much before she’d gone inside, aside from wishing her good luck. It would be his turn next.

—Tock.

The door opened and Lisa stepped out. Now, was the time to panic, Micah thought, and yet he still didn’t do it. He wondered if he was getting used to … this. Interviews and talking to adults he didn’t know, who were three times his level and far above his station. Was that a good thing?

Other than that, today was the first time Micah had seen Lisa in a dress. A light red one with white patterns on it. The school’s colors. Somehow, it didn’t suit her. Not that she didn’t look pretty in it. She just looked better in her climbing equipment, crushing a giant centipede in one hand while she berated him for not studying enough. That was the Lisa he knew and loved.

Sam still sat on one of her shoulders, though, and it was a familiar sight. Its weight didn’t seem to bother her, not even when it crawled around her dress. The fabric barely shifted and its claws were dulled to prevent tearing. It was definitely smaller today, Micah knew. Slimmer. Also more agile. That meant Lisa could summon it in different sizes and qualities. What else could she do? And why did she speak so little of her feats and levels, compared to Ryan and him? Should Micah ask questions about her Skills or respect her privacy? Maybe it just didn’t matter to her.

He stood up to meet her, but halfway there, Lisa motioned for him to sit back down, so he did. She whispered, “They’re taking a five-minute break.”

“Oh.”

She sat next to him and Sam shifted to her arm to not get squished against the back of the chair. “Don’t worry, they are going to call on you then.”

Micah nodded, staring at his lap and portfolio again, looked over, and croaked, “What do I do?”

She laughed and said, “You open the door. You walk inside.”

He nodded. He knew that much.

“You don’t trip. That’s an important bit. Tripping would look really bad.”

“It would?”

“Yeah. Definitely. They’d probably get angry and throw you out right then if you tripped. That’s it. Bye bye, school. So don’t trip. Did you tie your shoelaces?”

Micah checked. He had. “I won’t trip. I don’t trip all the time. How hard can it be to not trip now?” He nodded again. “I won’t trip.”

“Good. Then you shake their hands, introduce yourself, and thank them for the opportunity to speak with them. Eye contact. Firm grip. Speak clearly. When they offer, you may sit. You answer their questions. You ask the right kind of questions yourself. You thank them for their time and await to hear from them again. It’s that simple.”

Micah nodded. Right. Right. They had practiced this. Even role-played it a few times, though it always ended in ridiculous laughter. He probably shouldn’t end up laughing this time, though.

“How did it go?” he asked her.

She frowned and didn’t answer for a long moment. Then her voice shifted to that calm tone she sometimes spoke in; the one Micah had come to think of her voice stripped of all pretense, “It went … well. Mostly. Ameryth isn’t entirely the person I thought she would be. She’s an interesting woman. The school, on the other hand, isn’t shaping up to be entirely the place I had hoped either. They’ve given in to various demands, it would seem.”

She looked over and quickly added, “Not that it’s entirely bad. It’s still great. Better than my last school, definitely. I just thought they’d be more lax and experimental”—she shrugged—“I guess not.”

Micah had no idea what she was talking about, so he just nodded and mumbled, “Right.” Of course a school wouldn’t be lax. Why would they be? Why should they be? They were supposed to teach them, whether they wanted to learn or not. Removing Skill succession would in no way remove Skill education after all.

He did want to ask about those other things she had said. What had she meant about Ameryth? And which questions had they asked her exactly? But then the door opened and a young woman stepped halfway out to call his name.

“Micah Stranya?”

She wore a navy vest over a blouse—immaculately tidy, as everyone had been that Micah had spotted on campus today. Was she one of the interviewers? He didn’t recognize her.

His heart-rate finally picked up. It hadn’t been five minutes yet. It hadn’t been two minutes yet. He still gulped and stood up, confirming, “Here.”

She nodded. “They are ready to speak with you now.”

Oh. Not an interviewer then. A secretary? “Okay. Thank you.” He glanced back at Lisa and whispered the same, “Thank you.”

She held up both thumbs and mouthed, Good luck.

The young woman held the door open for him, so Micah nodded in another bout of politeness as he stepped inside. She also closed it behind him and led him through a small room—Ameryth’s personal receptionist’s office, he surmised—to the next door down. There was another, smaller hallway to the far right, he spotted. While he focussed on not tripping, Micah wondered where it led.

She gestured for him to step inside, not a single stay fuzz or hair on her clothes, so Micah did.

He was tidy, too, today though. He wore his fine shirt, ironed for the occasion. Prisha had insisted on putting some weird, stinky stuff in his hair that made it stay one way and look kind of glossy. His shoes were clean, their laces tied neatly. His pants had both their sleeves. His ribs were much better, so he didn’t need the bandages. Nothing on him was missing. He’d even made a fresh batch of perfume for the occasion—apples with a hint of cinnamon, just because Lisa kept on calling him that—and only put on a little bit. Just a hint. In exchange, he had bought and wore normal deodorant so he wouldn’t sweat through his shirt.

His journal was complete, his new Proof Of paper inside. He had everything he needed. Everything I need, he told himself.

Ameryth’s office … was not what he had expected. It had three windows to the far wall, two left of her desk, one right. They looked out towards the campus and the wall rather than the Tower, like some of the hallways and rooms in other parts of the school did. A large, ornate wooden desk stood in the far right corner. It had probably used to stand where the longer foldable table now did. Apparently, not all three interviewers had been able to fit behind it.

But Micah thought of “corner” loosely, as there were two of them in the right side. The wall connecting them was diagonal. He remembered the indents in the facade of the building. It seemed her office met one of them.

To the immediate and far left, there were bookshelves and what looked like the door into a walk-in closet. To the immediate right, a display case and another door, probably leading to the adjacent hallway he’d spotted. So someone could come in without going through her secretary’s office? Was that wise?

Micah spotted three different clocks in the room, but he was pretty sure they all told the same time.

Dominating the middle of the right-side wall was a large, old-fashioned stove made from masoned stones. It was a half-circle against the wall, large enough to hang a grill over, and had an overhang chimney to catch the smoke of an open fire burning on it.

The fire had two eyes, sharp teeth, and a very red mouth.

Micah almost tripped when he saw it and, instead of walking on to the table, whispered, “Candle?”

It was [Candle]. His [Candle]. It looked exactly the same, just much larger. It swiveled around to look at him, its facial features constantly shifting as its flames flickered and it snacked on some kindling beneath it. It didn’t seem to recognize him at all.

Fire essence. How could Micah see it?

“Mr. Stranya? Mr. Stranya?” someone asked and Micah whipped back to look at the three adults standing behind the desk. It was Ameryth who was speaking, standing to the right again and looking a little awkward.

“I hope the open fire did not frighten you,” she said and as she spoke, the size of the flames shrunk down a little. [Candle] shrunk with them and suddenly, it looked like it was sulking. It fit less and less kindling in its mouth, but therefor ate with twice the protectiveness of its food. “Please, ignore it. I simply enjoy a little fire. Even in the summer.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to be surprised,” Mr. Walker said to the left of the three as Micah took a few more steps towards them. In the middle was a broad man in a suit Micah didn’t immediately recognize. “We can open a window if it gets too warm.” He gestured behind himself at the glass windows and Micah remembered himself. He could worry about fire essence later. Now, he had an interview to focus on.

He covered the rest of the room in a quick stride, saying, “Oh, it wasn’t that at all, sir and ma’am.” The man offered his hand so he shook it and said, “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Walker. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be here.”

The man still seemed as strict as he had the last two times Micah had seen him, but his eyes seemed warmer. Micah thought it might have been the distance, but then he spoke, “It’s nice to have you here, Mr. Stranya. Registrar Zayer spoke highly of you when we last met.”

Glasses had put a good word in for him? Micah smiled. “He did? If you meet him again before I do, could you thank him, sir?”

“Of course.”

He shook Ameryth’s hand next, and then the man in the middle’s whom he didn’t recognize. There weren’t any name tags either, aside from a fancy gilded plaque he spotted on Ameryth’s other desk. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t think we’ve been introduced. My name is Micah Stranya.”

“Mr. Sundberg,” he spoke and Micah remembered. He was the man who had been mad at Micah for calling Ms. Denner by her first name in the tent. He looked so much different in a suit.

“Oh,” Micah said and quickly rambled, “I’m sorry for my behavior back then. I had just gotten out of the Tower and forgot my manners, sir.”

“I’m sure you did.”

He sat back down, then Mr. Walker did, but Ameryth remained standing. She wasn’t wearing red this time and it made him wonder if there was some kind of significance to the color to her.

“Mr. Sundberg here is one of our climbing teachers,” she said. “You will remember that I introduced him during my speech?”

Micah blanched and his smile fell. First, he froze at the fire and now he inadvertently gave away that he hadn’t been paying attention during her speech. Oh, and he had already displeased one of the three interviewers twice.

Great job, idiot, he kicked himself.

“And,” she went on, “he will help conduct these interviews with a few colleagues in the future, although I think I might drop by from time to time. I enjoy the process and seeing new potential. But for now, Mr. Walker and I simply wish to vet the very first of our students personally. At least, as much as we can.”

She smiled.

Micah gulped. Was he supposed to say something to that? He almost said, Uhm, but managed to stop himself and went with, “It’s an honor that you are so involved in the application process, ma’am. I’m sure the next round of applicants will be just as grateful.”

When in doubt, go with flattery or non-responses, Lisa had told him. Micah hadn’t liked the advice at the same—Ryan neither—but now he relied on it. The moment he did, he wished he hadn’t. He didn’t want to flatter his way into this school.

Ameryth shook her head with a smile, as if she found his response silly, and asked, “Do you need anything? Tea? Coffee? Water?”

Coffee? The last time Micah had drunk that, he remembered wanting to run up walls. He shook his head politely. “No, thank you, ma’am.”

“Oh, but you’ve never had coffee before, have you? You grew up in Westhill. Stupid of me.”

“Oh, I’ve drunk it before,” he said. “Just once. On Monday I made some for myself. And I’ve seen my parents drink it sometimes, too”—her eyebrows shot up and he quickly added, “They bought it from trade, of course. I’m not sure from where. I just don’t think it would be wise to drink it now.”

“Ah.” She nodded as she sat down. “How prudent.” Then she gestured at his chair and invited him, “Please. Sit.”

Micah made sure they were all three sitting before he did. He kept his portfolio and journal on his lap, waiting.

The three adjusted some papers on their desk and put them back in folders, then put those away on piles or in boxes to the sides of the table. They had half-empty glasses of water, empty cups of coffee, and notes scattered around. There was a shelf with refreshments behind the desk. A few empty bottles of blue glass stood inside. Their appearances weren’t as tidy as the receptionist’s had been either. It seemed like they had been here for a long time already. It took a lot of work to get through so many interviews, Micah knew, though these ones were only the special cases, like for fringe cases or people applying for scholarships.

Micah was both, he knew.

When they had tidied everything up, Mr. Sundberg led the interview. He had a folder in front of him now, contents too tight and very much upside-down that Micah couldn’t decipher them. It was no doubt nothing less than his entire application file up until today.

The gruff man glanced at it, at him, and said, “So, Mr. Stranya. Tell us about yourself.”

Oh, great. Micah thought. That question. He’d practiced for it, though. He just had to remember where to start. What were the options Ryan and Lisa had given him when talking about himself? Ah—

“Ah, as, uhm, Ms Denner mentioned, I grew up in Westhill, sir,” he started and glanced at Mr. Walker to pair them together. “I don’t know if you know the area, but most of the people there boycott the Tower’s bounties as they believe relying on the Tower to keep the city running is short-sighted. My family did it through and through, growing up, so I knew surprisingly little about the Tower until about half a year ago when I first took interest in going inside. Uhm, however, I have been an [Alchemist] for a little over two and a half years by now”—their looks shifted from puzzled to interested when he mentioned that; it reassured Micah—“and during that time, I experimented a lot with mundane, household ingredients. I actually brought some of my recipes from that time along with me, if you would like to see, sir?”

“Of course,” he said and gestured. “Please.”

Micah nodded, glad for the respite to think, and bookmarked the journal with its string before he handed it over. “They are on the first four pages.”

Mr. Sundberg merely glanced at the pages of the journal and wordlessly handed it over to Mr. Walker. Micah’s heart sunk a little at the casual dismissal and solaced himself with the sight that the [Registrar] at least leafed through them with one eye.

He waited for a moment, unsure if he should go on.

“It’s a shame Mr. Jung isn’t here,” the man mumbled as he perused it. “He would have been able to tell us more.”

Micah frowned, but wasn’t sure if he should ask who that was. Maybe Ameryth had also introduced him during her speech, after all. From the context, he had to know something about alchemy.

“He did leave us one comment,” Ameryth mumbled, looking through her own file. Her brows sunk a little as she searched, and it quickened and quickened before she seemed to give up with frustrated decorum. “But we can come back to that later.” She smiled and said in a somewhat sarcastic tone, “For now, tell us, you have stopped using household ingredients in your alchemy since?”

Micah nodded quickly. “Try as I might, even with trial and error it could only bring me to level three. I considered other options, but, despite my upbringing, I could recognize the Tower as the best path forward. Adding onto that, I thought taking a hands-on approach would offer me a much more valuable experience than simply buying the ingredients. As an [Alchemist], I mean.”

“And how did that work out for you?” Ms. Denner asked him.

Micah froze for a moment, but he knew by now Ameryth was just testing him. She had to be. So what did she was to hear from him? He considered and admitted, “Poorly at first. I made mistakes. However, I was given the opportunity to learn from my mistakes and have been doing much better ever since.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“And why did you prefer to take a hands-on approach?” Mr. Sundberg asked. “Was it simply out of financial reasons?”

“In part. But not entirely. I can better appreciate where the ingredients came from by going into the Tower. I can observe the environment they lived in and get a better understanding of which properties they might be able to offer. And, uhm, I can adjust my own recipes to better suit the needs of climbers because I have first-hand experience.”

Mr. Sundberg nodded. “You’re speaking of an extension of the age-old difference between theory and practice.”

“Yes, sir. Learning about something is one thing. Experiencing it for yourself is a very valuable other.” He glanced at the other two interviewers as he spoke, to gauge their reactions. Ameryth seemed content enough, Mr. Walker was unreadable, Mr. Sundberg just seemed to be doing his job.

The first’s expression darkened a little when she leaned forward to ask, “But that isn’t all, surely? I see you’re also a [Fighter]. Level three. That alone is impressive for your age, is it not?” Somehow, her words seemed displeased, as if she didn’t like him having the [Fighter] Class. “What can you tell us about that?”

Micah frowned and thought it over. “It is … merely a means to an end, ma’am,” he said honestly. “I’m willing to be a [Fighter] if it means I can be an [Alchemist]. Or rather, I want to be someone who fights for what they want and in this case, that means being an [Alchemist]. And, of course, a climber. But hopefully, they will become one and the same, someday.”

Thankfully, her mood brightened a bit at that and Micah could relax for a moment. Okay, he told himself, so she definitely didn’t like his [Fighter] Class. That was good to know, even if he didn’t understand why. He tried not to fidget. Should he try to find out? Would that be the right type of question to ask? Was he even allowed to ask yet?

He wasn’t sure.

Mr. Walker laid his journal back down, but said nothing about the recipes inside. Ms. Denner made no move to ask about them either. Was Micah supposed to say something? Maybe explain?

Before he could, Mr. Sundberg spoke, “Tell us more about Westhill. Your decision to become a climber despite it must not be the only interesting thing you can tell us about your home district, is it?”

“Ah, of course not,” Micah said, sweating a little. He had worried about Westhill looking bad on his application, so he had some ways to make it look good instead. “I believe that my upbringing outside of Tower culture puts me in a unique position to have a … a fresh point of view—”

The man shook his head, interrupting him with a gesture alone. “That may be true, but it is not what I meant. Your parents, they are Elissa Stranya and Casimir Stranya, are they not?”

Micah paused and nodded. “Oh. Uhm, yes. They are.” They all three looked at him expectantly, so he slowly asked, “Do you know them, sir …?”

“By reputation alone,” he said at the same time as Ameryth’s face twitched.

“Know them?” she asked, smiling incredulously. “I— We certainly— Hm … Let’s just say—”

Mr. Walker leaned over to put a hand on her arm and she glared at it like she wanted to bite it off.

“I believe what Ms. Denner is trying to say,” he interrupted her, “is that we have been working very closely with Elissa Stranya for the last few years. Your mother, such as she is, has been instrumental in keeping the expectations made of this school high, Mr. Stranya. She gave Ms. Denner both the opportunity and motivation to rise to the occasion with each new challenge.”

Micah glanced at Ameryth, confused. She and his mother had been working together? That didn’t sound right. His mom would never work with—

Ohh. Now he got it. They had been working closely with one another, but not together.

Oh, no. He gulped. Was that a bad thing? For him, he meant.

Ms. Denner calmed down and asked him, “You do know what your parents do for a living, right?”

He quickly nodded. “Of course, ma’am. My mother is a district councilwoman and my father community councilman, ma’am.”

“And either of them could run for district mayor if they thought the hassle were worth the reward,” she grumbled. “But you are also aware of the distinction between the two bodies?” She glanced at Mr. Walker. “I believe this was even one of the questions in the exam, was it not?”

“Not all of them. It was asked of the applicants in two version of the exam. I’m not sure if young Mr. Stranya was asked. I could check…?”

“No, I know the answer,” Micah quickly said. Of course, he knew what his parents did. “Uhm, my mother helps represent the district’s interests within the city. My father helps represent its citizens’ interests within the district.”

“Yes.” She smiled darkly at that. “They do. To put it frankly, Mr. Stranya, your mother has been a thorn in my side for the last half decade and I would gladly seize the opportunity to repay that favor, if given the opportunity. So, please—”

Micah gulped and quickly rambled in desperation, “But ma’am, I am not my parents. Please, do not let their political views reflect poorly on my application here.” He started picking at his folder with his fingernails, nervous. This couldn’t be happening.

Her expression shifted to bewilderment. “Poorly? Oh, no, Mr. Stranya. Not— Don’t worry about that. We are completely impartial here.” She glanced at her two colleagues. “Aren’t we?”

Her tone didn’t sound very reassuring.

Mr. Sundberg rolled his eyes.

Mr. Walker spoke and Micah’s eyes darted to him, “On a similar note, Mr. Stranya, your parents’ home address is known to us. However, you gave another on your application forms. It is the same address of Ryan Payne’s family, I believe. You have also been classmates for … three years, now? Would you care to elaborate on that or is it merely a coincidence? It does appear to be an apartment building.”

What? Why did they want to know about that?

Mr. Sundberg perked up. “Ryan Payne? You know him?”

Oh. They were asking if Micah was still living at … home. “Uhm,” he said and glanced at the three of them. Sheepishly, he echoed, “In the interest of putting things frankly, I am currently sleeping on his floor.”

Mr. Sundberg smiled for the first time that Micah had seen since meeting him and leaned forward. “Parents’ didn’t take too well to your application, huh?”

“No, sir. They did not.”

Did that take away the prejudice they held against him? He could only hope.

The middle man leaned back and waved one hand aimlessly as he crossed his arms. “That Ryan is a good one, though. You could learn a thing or two from him.”

Micah nodded. “I know that, sir.”

“Good. And in the interest of putting things frankly,” he went on, looking over to his left, “if I were still working for the marines, I would try to steal him away from you, Ameryth. He would have a bright future with us.”

Ameryth wore a barely visible smirk and said, “You could have tried,” before taking a sip from her glass.

Micah needed a moment to catch on. He smiled a little when he realized what they were talking about. They wanted Ryan to come to this school. They would even have fought over him. That was awesome.

“So,” she said when she put the glass back down. “What happens when we reject you?” She gasped a little and held a hand to her mouth. “Pardon me, ‘if.’ I meant to say what happens if we reject you.”

Micah’s smile vanished. What? Was the interview going that poorly? But— But he’d barely said anything yet! Just because of his parents and— No. No, he had to show them he was more than just his parents, that his alchemy could be worth paying attention to. He could still do this.

Ameryth smiled. “Would you go back to your parents’ house?”

With my tail between my legs? He shook his head. “I would move in with my sister in Westhill, ma’am. She owns a bathhouse. You should come check—” He caught himself and blushed. “Ah, I’m sorry. I’m just used to advertising whenever I can. But, uhm, I would do another year of classroom and attend afternoon classes as an Early Bird. Hopefully, at the Henry & Henrickson School in Nistar.”

“Why there? Because of the funny name?”

“Uh, no. They have a good, albeit small alchemy course where I could collect a few points for an eventual license, even without an apprenticeship. Also, Ryan has also applied there. He is still considering attending.”

She squinted at him. “Is he now?”

Micah took care not to smile mischievously, if he even could manage that much. If Ms. Denner was willing to fight the Marines of Lighthouse over Ryan, a little bit of competition within the city could only help his chances, right?

“Yes, ma’am. His best friend wants to attend because of their sports courses. He’s an [Athlete]. However, they also offer climbing courses, so the combination of the two would be a great fit for Ryan.”

Ameryth frowned. “You aren’t his best friend?”

Micah mirrored the expression. “No?” He wasn’t, even if Ryan was his.

“Hm.” She leaned back, still holding her frown. “So you would continue going to the classroom and attend afternoon classes, like every other child who got their Class or Path early in the city. And then?”

“I would apply either to another school again next year, intent on becoming a climber, seek an apprenticeship and then apply to a school of my master’s choosing, or I would finish classroom. Either way, I would have to think over my options. However … finishing classroom might be time better spent elsewhere. I’m eager to move on to a higher education, ma’am, like the one this school offers.”

“Ah,” Ms. Denner said. “That right there would be a good segue into the next question. Rikard?”

Mr. Sundberg leaned forward. “Why here? Why do you want to go to this school, Mr. Stranya? Is it just because Mr. Payne has applied here?”

Micah shook his head. “Going to the same school as a friend might be nice,” he admitted. “It’s always nice to see familiar faces, but I have to go to the place that is right for me. I chose this school on my own.”

Breaking his silence, Mr. Walker picked it up, “And why do you believe this school to be that place?”

Lisa had asked him that exact same question during one of their quizzes before. Now, Micah thankfully had a handful of scripted options he could choose from. Since it was Mr. Walker asking, he said honestly:

“I recently had the opportunity to glance at a Quarterly Statistics Report of the Registry, Mr. Walker, and saw a comparison article. I had heard it by word-of-mouth before, but the number of expeditions into the Tower this decade is actually at an all-time low, even compared to the time of the Third. Meanwhile, we are experiencing the longest period of peace since this city’s founding. I would have hoped that while we are flourishing under that peace, we would also increase how much we explore the Towers. That … doesn’t seem to be the case.”

He turned to address Mrs. Denner again. “Not yet, at least. The call for change that your school represents seems like the perfect place to … to …” She cocked her head and Micah quickly found the word, “foster the need for discovery again, ma’am.” Ryan had warned him not to script full answers. “Not just of Skills and independent advancement, but also of the Towers.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

She raised an eyebrow. “But you’re not an [Explorer].”

Micah faltered. “No. I’m not.”

“Doesn’t your argument fall somewhat flat, then?” Mr. Sundberg added.

Micah considered and admitted, “Somewhat. Not entirely. I’m— My friends always tell me I’m too curious. I’m always asking questions. So that’s just an extension of my curiosity. I could always get the Class in the future?”

“That’s the future,” Mr. Sundberg said. “What about now?”

Right. Empty promises wouldn’t work. Micah tried not to squirm in his seat and picked the side of his binder some more, hoping they wouldn’t notice. “Uhm, now … Now, I am an [Alchemist]. Or rather, I’m a hands-on [Alchemist] like the first generation was. And if I can, I would love to make it a combat Class someday. This school seems like a good place to do that.”

Ameryth frowned a little at that. That wasn’t a good sign.

Mr. Walker, like most Registrars he had met, silently watched most of the conversation while taking a few notes, his expression barely shifting.

Only Mr. Sundberg nodded, but he still spoke against him, “And there are no other schools that can offer that? You could simply take a climbing course and an alchemy course at the same time.”

Micah nodded. “I could. But I want to do it here. I can do it here better than any place else. When I say hands-on approach, I mean— Uhm … Living right next to the Tower and going in far more often than any other schools seems like the best way to achieve what I want to achieve. I want to devote myself to it. That’s the only— the right way to get a Class, after all. Or a Skill. And also … it’s just kind of a gut feeling. I heard about this school and immediately knew I wanted to come here, sir.”

The man went on without pause, “And that it is subordinate to a larger organ does not bother you? Ms. Denner might have one agenda—”

She scowled at him.

“Dream,” Mr. Sundberg corrected himself. “She might have a dream for this school. And the Registry has another in gathering data, but the Climber’s Guild will want this school to steer students towards it. It’s looking for a profit.”

Micah considered the words for a moment and looked up to ask, “Steer, but not obligate?”

He shook his head. “Not obligate, no.”

So Micah shrugged. “As long as it is not obligational, I will welcome the opportunities that working so closely with the Climber’s Guild will offer. It’s a … unique insight other schools won’t be able to offer, after all.”

“Well … “ Ms. Denner threw in. “There are many schools that work closely with the Guild, but we will be one step above even them.”

There was a pause and Micah took the respite to breathe. He suddenly wished he had accepted that tea earlier or maybe asked for water. His felt parched and his tongue dry and sticky. He wondered how well he was doing. Probably not good. Not good at all. He wished Ryan and Lisa were here to tell him, like during practice.

Mr. Walker was scribbling something down in his notes, Ms. Denner searching for something in her file, and Mr. Sundberg drank some water himself. Micah glanced back at the stove.

Yep, [Candle] was still there. It noticed him looking and stopped gnawing on a coal to swivel around and look back with wide eyes. On the topic of water, Micah wondered how much it would take to drown it. Or maybe he would need to use sand or foam? Foam sounded best to him. It could choke.

Ms. Denner cleared her throat and he immediately spun back around, mumbling an apology.

She put a note back down and leaned forward a bit. “Now, before we can go on, we must do so in context. You have applied for … all of our merit-based scholarships, Mr. Stranya.”

She didn’t exactly sound happy.

Mr. Sundberg frowned and asked, “What? Did you just throw in every single application and hoped one would stick?”

Well … yeah, Micah thought. Kind of? That was how you were supposed to do it with bureaucracy, right? Otherwise, you might miss something that you qualified for and wouldn’t even know it.

“Well, at least he had the wisdom not to request any of the scholarships based on financial needs,” Ameryth mumbled.

He nodded. Back then, Micah had still been living at home after all. Although, he doubted he would have handed those in even being where he was now. He’d grown up in a wealthy family. Requesting a need-based scholarship just because he ran away from home seemed like an insult to others.

“You also requested to skip two years of classroom,” Ameryth went on. “Now, while we are obligated to go through the paperwork, we do not have the time to go over all of it all during this interview, do you understand? So you are going to have to argue your strongest case, Mr. Stranya.”

He nodded. “The level-based one then, please.”

She frowned. “Are you sure?”

What did she mean, was he sure? Micah hesitated for a moment before he decided it had to be another trick question. He nodded again, “Yes.” This was his time to show to impress them. He could still do this.

“Very well.”

Ms. Denner got out a note. “Sadly, Mr. Jung couldn’t make it today. However, he wrote us a note for you. You are … quite a high level, Mr. Stranya, for your age.” He smiled at the compliment and almost got out his updated Proof Of paper then and there, but she went on, “And you say you would like to become an [Alchemist] climber. Mr. Jung advises me, however, that you have two flaws.”

What? She raised a finger as she read the note. “One, you are apparently missing two rather common Skills [Alchemists] get at the lower levels? One of which is supposed to be essential for modern alchemy. And two, you apparently lack a proper alchemy Path as well.”

Micah perked up and blinked. He looked around. That was it? Suddenly, he sighed in relief and quickly stopped picking at his binder. He flipped it open instead and quickly searched out his updated Proof Of paper, handing it over with a smile, “Actually, I actually fixed the first of those two problems already, ma’am.”

She took a look at the paper and her eyebrows went up in subdued astonishment. She added a smile a moment later and looked back at him. “Well, I guess congratulations are in order, Mr. Stranya. Two levels in five days. That is impressive. Can you tell how you did it?”

She offered a hand and passed the paper along. Micah quickly shook it, saying, “Thank you, ma’am. I, uhm— My brother sent me a distillation set as a present a week ago. I spent the last week going through an entire recipe book and did some other priming exercises of my own design. It worked out, thankfully.”

“And just in time for the interview,” she remarked.

Micah hesitated. Something about that made him frown. “Uhm, I mean … It would have worked out eventually,” he protested. “Even if I hadn’t gotten the Skills already, I would have been able to assure you that I was working on a solution to the problem. This is merely proof of that.”

Sure, it had been dumb luck, he knew. But it had been dumb luck that he put a lot of effort into. That had to count for something, right?

Ameryth seemed to accept that and asked, “And the other problem? Tell us about your … [Essence Path].” She closed his folder and put it on the desk, lying an open hand on top, palm facing up. She looked expectant.

Micah’s good mood vanished again. His nervousness did, too. In place, he felt a simple sinking sensation. He had known they might ask about his Paths, but … he didn’t have a perfect solution for it.

“Uhm, it’s kind of hard to explain,” he said.

“Is it?” She raised an eyebrow.

He nodded. “Are you familiar with essences, ma’am?”

“Let’s say I’m not.”

“I’m actually not,” Mr. Sundberg said, glancing down at her palm and then over Micah’s shoulder as if there were a fly or something. Micah ignored it. He didn’t hear any buzzing. “So you can explain it to me, if you like.”

“Essences are … they’re magic.”

“Magic? Like mana?”

“Sort of … they’re an ingredient in mana.”

“An ingredient?” Ms. Denner asked. “You say you know what mana is made of?”

“I, uhm—”

He didn’t know what to answer. He didn’t really have a good answer for any of this. Talking about essences with Lisa was easy. She knew more about them than he did, but how was he supposed to explain it to somebody who knew nothing? Especially since he didn’t have proof and he could just as easily be wrong.

Then again, Micah was just supposed to … argue his alchemy levels, right? That’s all he needed to do, so he he looked up a little and said, “They’re a lesser form of magic, sir. They are a part of what [Alchemists] manipulate in their potions. Do you know how potions work?”

He weighed his head a little. “The plants and monsters in the Tower have magical properties. Alchemists cut out the parts they need and mix them together to make potions and stuff. That’s about it.”

Micah nodded. “Right. Well, not right. Sort of right. You can also make potions with things not from the Tower.”

The man glanced over at Ameryth again, a question on his face, but turned his head back to Micah when he spoke, “Right, right. Because some things also have magical properties or because they can affect the properties of Tower ingredients.”

Micah shook his head and corrected him, “No. Everything has magical properties, sir. Even something as simple as dust, or rocks, or grass. My [Essence Path] is about the study of those properties. It might not be a ‘proper’ alchemy Path, but it is my alchemy Path and I believe it hold merit.”

“So your alchemy Path is about using things not from the Tower?” Ms. Denner asked, nodding a little. “That would make sense, seeing as how you’re from Westhill. But it doesn’t exactly help your case now, does it?”

Micah frowned. He hadn’t really ever thought it like that, about why he had gotten exactly the [Essence Path]. Still, he forced it out of his mind and went on, “But it does still extend to the Tower. I can literally see alchemical properties with my [Essence Sight], ma’am. That gives me a unique perspective and it has helped me immensely in teaching myself the fundamentals of alchemy. I’ve come this far without any kind of formal instruction, after all.”

Ameryth nodded a little, but didn’t let up, “However, it is not the same as the [Alchemy Path], is it? And that is something most of your fellow applicants do have. While you’ve reached level ten already and some of the Skills you’ve gotten are rare, none of them are exceptional, Mr. Stranya. Meanwhile, your peers have gotten other Skills from their Paths already. Those represent a promise to us, of secured advancement. You only have one Skill from an untraditional Path. [Essence Sight]. And how long did you say you have had that?”

“... two and a half years,” Micah mumbled.

“And you haven’t gotten any other Skills from your Path since?”

She was seeing all his flaws, Micah realized, because they were there. He suddenly had a hard time protesting, but he had prepared an answer for that question, at least, so he answered automatically, “I … am sorry to say that I only learned how to meditate a few months ago, ma’am.” He said it honestly, since it was the truth, but it was also a lie. “I have not yet received a formal education in how to pursue my Path, so I have only ever used my [Essence Path] to aid in my alchemy.”

But they didn’t care about his alchemy, did they? About his strongest case …

There was an uncomfortable pause during which Micah kept his eyes on the desk or his lap rather than look up to meet their disappointment. So he wasn’t good enough after all? He should have known it. Compared to people like Ryan, Lisa, and Anne … all he could do was memorize how to answer questions as pretentiously as possible. Ms. Denner had seen right through him.

After a long moment of consideration, Ms. Denner asked, “Why did you freeze when you saw the fire, Mr. Stranya? Surely, it wasn’t just because you were surprised to see an open flame on a summer afternoon, was it?”

Micah froze. So she even knew about that? Of course … Of course, she did. Now, it felt like she was offering him the noose to hang himself with. He couldn’t say he was afraid of fire when he was applying for a school that trained climbers. Tons of monsters fought with fire. Almost all mages did. Then there were torches, campfires, even just the flame of his distillation burner or his own Skill, which he could no longer use …

Micah sighed and almost spoke before a part of him smacked him on the back of his head and shouted, Just because she’s offering you a noose, doesn’t mean you should take it, idiot!

It was the weeks of practice and preparation that spoke. This was Micah’s last chance. He knew he would regret it forever if he gave up now. So he answered honestly instead, “I mistook it for [Candle].”

“You mistook?” Ms. Denner asked.

“[Candle]?” Mr. Walker added. “The cantrip?”

He nodded. “I have it as well. For a second, I thought that large fire was the [Candle] cantrip.”

Ms. Denner nodded. “It is.”

Micah blinked and glanced up. What?

Mr. Sundberg asked it out loud, “What?”

She pointed over at the stove with one finger. “That’s my [Candle]. It was one of the first Skills I got as well, at level two. From my [Mage] Class, mind you.”

“When did you summon it? We’ve been here for eight hours.”

Ameryth squinted and seemed to consider. “Summon it? A few days ago?” She shrugged. “At my level, I could keep it burning indefinitely, really. But that’s not important right now. The question we should be asking is, why did you mistake it for the cantrip, Mr. Stranya? Does is not appear to be an ordinary flame? It does so to my colleagues.”

She smiled at him.

Micah felt like he was fighting the Kobold again, because suddenly everything felt crooked. So she hadn’t wanted him to say he was afraid of fire? Uhm … Oh. That was … embarrassing? He’d misunderstood her.

Wait, was there anything else he had misunderstood? He didn’t have time to think about that now. It was too late anyway. Why had he mistaken the fire for [Candle], she asked?

“Because it looks like it,” he said. “To me, at least.”

“To you? How does it look to you?”

Micah glanced over his shoulder again, but looked back at them when he spoke, “It has two eyes, though they aren’t human eyes. They’re more like two circular spots of white flame. It has a red mouth and many small, sharp teeth that it hides most of the time. Not right now, however. It’s, uhm— It’s snacking on some coal right now, ma’am.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Ameryth asked and her voice suddenly sounded like she was talking to a dog or baby. “Yes, you are. Yes, you are.” Then it shifted to angry. “I hope it tastes good, Cal! That was expensive.”

Mr. Walker frowned for the first time and looked over to say, “That description sounds a lot like the basic fire elemental that can be summoned as an extension of the cantrip, Mr. Denner.”

“It’s the very same,” she said. “I had it veil itself.”

“I’m sorry?” Micah spoke up.

She looked a him. “You are aware that cantrips can be used to learn more advanced spells, like [Sparks] to [Firebolt]?”

Micah nodded.

“Well, one of the advancements of [Candle] is the ability to summon a simple fire elemental. It’s not much harder than something like [Summon Water], really, if you know how to do it right.”

“And an elemental is …?” Micah asked.

“A spirit that specializes in a certain element.”

“Ah.” He frowned. “So why can I see it when others can't?”

“Because it didn't hide itself very well," Ameryth said. "But I have a theory, and I use that word literally. I do not mean hypothesis.” She glanced at her colleagues as she did at Micah. “There is a way to fuel a part of the spell without using mana. However, I’ve had troubles collecting data because my own example is … biased, to say the least. I believe—”

“It's perception,” Micah interrupted her, recognizing the type of speech. He could guess the words she had wanted to say. It was the type of thing Lisa would say, after all, and she was constantly lecturing him about her hypotheses on perception.

Ameryth spun on him, looking honestly surprised for once, but was still smiling. He didn’t know what to say until she nodded a little, nudging him, “Go on.”

Go on to say what, exactly?

“Perception is … a large part of magic,” Micah said, feeling like he was groping around in the dark. “By perceiving essences, I give them … power? Access. I allow them to affect things, if they want to. Normally, I would have to use mana to do that, as part of the spell. If I were unable to perceive them, I mean. So when I look at [Candle], [Candle] looks back. All I would need from there is a way to pull it over. Maybe offer it something? Bait or … mana? Do they like mana?”

“Cal generally likes burning things,” Ameryth said. “But you’re right. Perception is a key aspect of magic, just like it is with more physical Classes. You can’t stab something if you don’t know where it is, right?”

She didn’t say anything, so Micah hesitated and answered, “Right.”

“And by perceiving Cal, I can lower the cost of summoning him. However, I believe that only to be the first benefit of many possible ones.” She didn’t say anything again after that. It seemed like she was trying to get at something, but Micah didn’t know what. Was he supposed to ask a question or point something—

Oh. Ameryth loves potential, he had heard someone say before. Was it Lisa? It could have been anyone.

“My [Essence Path] has potential,” Micah spoke and immediately panicked, because he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. They were supposed to be impressed by his level then [Alchemist], not the Path he had nightmares about. “But don’t [Mages] use essence already?” he asked.

She scoffed. “No. Well, rarely. In a way, you might say, [Mages] do use essences. They refer to them as affinities. Their only purpose in modern spellcraft is for affining, tainting, tuning, adjusting, filtering, coloring of mana; whatever you want to call it. They use it only as an aid to lower mana costs, like gluing a large enough crystal onto a stick and swinging it around when they cast spells.”

“Oh,” Micah said and frowned. “Why? I mean, uhm— I know a [Mage] who uses mana to manipulate essences rather than the other way around. For example, she’ll use a little bit of mana to collect water essence, which in turn collects water. It’s her version of [Condense Water]. It’s supposed to be cheaper, I think.” He remembered the Kobold. “Even if it’s slower.”

Ameryth nodded. “And she’s wise for doing that and lucky that she is able to do that. But you’ve already named the reason why [Mages] don’t use essences yourself.”

Micah frowned.

“Out with it, Ameryth” Mr. Sundberg grumbled. “We don’t have all day and I’m hungry. I bet my sandwich is soggy by now. My daughter always puts on too many condiments.”

She sighed and rubbed the space between her eyebrows. “Perception. They have troubles sensing them, Mr. Stranya. For example, I am currently holding between us a large quantity of mana in the shape of some quite obscene words. Words I doubt any teenager would have troubles not reacting to. It is also enough mana to cast the [Fireball] spell ten times over with the flick of a finger.”

Micah’s eyes shot up at the space between them, then down at her hand, palm facing upward, and back up again. What?

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Mr. Sundberg said. “Could you please dispel it? I mean … even I think some of those phrases are crude.” He pointed at something. “And there’s no way that’s a word. What would it even mean?”

She just laughed. “Yeah, it is. It’s a different word for— Oh, I’ll tell you later. But I’m just trying to make a point.”

Micah was still glancing at the air before her, unsure. He couldn’t see a—

Oh. He couldn’t see a thing.

“I see you get it,” Ameryth said, noticing his expressions. “Essences are as invisible to [Mages] as mana is to non-[Mages], Mr. Stranya. That is the value of your Path. And that is why when I told you to argue your strongest case, you should have chosen the special Skills option and focussed on your [Essence Path], not your alchemy.”

“I didn’t know,” Micah mumbled. And he wasn’t entirely sure he agreed. He liked being an alchemist. He loved experimenting, discovering, making things. And … he hadn’t even meditated on his [Essence Path] ever since he got it.

They didn’t seem to care. Or rather, they didn’t know that Micah had lied to them. His [Essence Path] might have had potential, but not when Micah was the one who had it. But they weren’t interested in what he was good at and passionate about, only in the thing he had avoided like the plague. Should he tell them the truth? But that would disappoint them and … it would ruin his chances of going to this school.

Micah kept quiet and realized he was lying again, in a way. It hurt.

Ameryth turned her hand around and Micah knew the mana was all gone now. She asked him once more, “So tell us about your [Essence Path].” He had no choice but to do that.

He told them about nature essences and explained what patterns were, which they all three found fascinating. He used some potion recipes to explain them and it got them musing out loud. They were also curious about how he could manipulate his [Essence Sight] to “switch” into seeing a specific type of aura type. Mr. Walker called it indicative of being able to see other potential “frequencies,” as he called them.

Micah tried again and again to steer the conversation away and in the direction of alchemy, reminding them how his [Essence Path] had helped with teaching himself, as he could see what he was doing and it wasn’t pure trial and error, but they never wanted to bite.

Instead, Mr. Sundberg pointed out how being able to differentiate between unmade and fully-made was a valuable Skill to have when fighting.

In the interest of being at least somewhat honest, Micah warned him about it could be tricky to use sometimes. It was like crossing his eyes to give everything a blur and he had to hold it throughout a fight.

The man brushed him off, “You just need practice.”

It was like they weren’t even listening to him, but … Micah was afraid of pushing back too much lest they realized he was lying. A part of him felt horrible throughout the interview and wanted to run out of the room to meditate on his [Essence Path] right then and there, to make up for it. Another part of him knew he’d probably shove it up again and distract himself with something else, which only made him feel worse.

Still, Ameryth smiled when they finished with the topic and said, “Much better. If I were the type of person to take on disciples, your Path alone would have been a glowing recommendation, Mr. Stranya. Well, your Path on its own would have been. I would have wanted you to become a [Mage], of course, not an [Alchemist].”

Micah smiled awkwardly and tried to argue, “[Alchemists] are a type of [Mage]?” His heart wasn’t in it. Why couldn’t they be impressed by his levels instead? Then again, neither was he. Some people might think being level ten was something special, but Micah didn’t feel that different. He just felt like he wanted to do … more, like each new level gave him ample reason to seek out the next.

Ameryth, again, wasn’t convinced. “Ehh …”

“We learn spells?”

“Complex, niche spells that only learned [Mages] can replicate, yes,” she said. “Like all Classes. And from your Path, alteration spells and household spells that can be useful, of course. But offense ones?” She shook her head. “And besides, getting spells from your Class and getting Skills to support those spells are very different things.”

“I got [Lesser Vibrancy]?”

Micah didn’t even know why he was arguing. It was better than being silent, he supposed.

“That you did,” she admitted and glanced at the note, “which Mr. Jung tells me is a bit of a rarity. But I’m just saying, if you want to use your [Essence Path] to become an [Alchemist], you do you, Mr. Stranya; I would have wanted you to become a [Mage], were you my disciple. That is also why I find every single level you have in the [Fighter] Class to be regrettable.”

Mr. Sundberg scoffed at that.

“But you’re not my disciple,” she pressed on. “You’re not even my student, so it doesn’t matter what I think.”

“Oh.” Micah faltered a little in his misery and managed a smile. You do you, she’d told him. It took a little weight off his shoulders. He remembered something else them, too. “And I already sort of have a tutor …”

Ameryth’s eyes shot up sharply from where she was taking notes. “You do? And who would that be?”

“Uhm, another applicant. It’s only ‘sort of.’ You spoke to her before me. Lisa Chandler?”

They all three suddenly nodded in unison, Mr. Walker even drinking from his glass. It was kind of creepy.

“An exceptional young woman,” Ameryth noted.

“Truly,” the Registrar added.

“A bit too stubborn, though,” Mr. Sundberg offered.

“Stubborn might be the wrong term.”

“And her handwriting is atrocious,” Ms. Denner said. “But we’re not here to talk about her again. We still have a little time left, Mr. Stranya, and we can always borrow more. We have to move on to some simpler questions or we’ll never be done. Now, be honest: Tell me a weakness of yours.”

Micah considered giving them the typical, I’m a perfectionist, response that everyone apparently gave during interviews, but he relished the chance to be honest. Also, his interviewers seemed a little more relaxed than they had earlier, so he admitted, “I get nervous speaking in front of crowds.”

She seemed surprised. “You do?”

He nodded vehemently.

“But you called my by my first name in front of the entire loot tent.”

He nodded once more. “It was a spur of the moment decision, ma’am. But if I have to give a presentation in class …” he trailed off and shook his head. “It’s something I have to work on.”

“Why? I don’t get it. You don’t seem to have troubles speaking otherwise.”

Micah was surprised by her being caught up on this. Why was this such a big deal to her?

Mr. Sundberg grumbled an interruption, “One has nothing to do with the other, Ameryth. My daughter is the most confident person I know, but even she gets nervous when she has a presentation assignment in school. It’s all about experience. Give him time and he’ll grow out of it.”

Micah doubted that, but they didn’t seem to notice.

“Hm …” Ameryth mumbled and made a note in his folder. “I never had troubles speaking in front of a crowd.”

“You’re you.”

“I did,” Mr. Walker offered.

“You did?”

“Of course.”

“But you literally have the [Heart of Stone] Skill.”

“That was before,” he said. ”I wasn’t always this impeccable figure you see before you. My hands got clammy. I sweated in front of crowds. I am— Sorry, was, only human, miss.”

Micah glanced back and forth between their Smalltalk, unsure if he should say anything. It went on for a few more minutes as they shared some stories of their own time in school, drank water, and made various tiny notes until Ms. Denner seemed to remember he was there.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” she said, glancing at a note. “Tell us about your [Warrior Path].”

“[Of the Warrior Path],” Micah corrected her and hesitated. “Uhm, it’s actually that? It’s a bilingual correction?”

Ms. Denner perked up. “You’re bilingual?”

“… No. My grandmother was Bavish and my mother part Bavish. Uhm, but I don't speak the language.”

“Ah. A shame. Mr. Walker will probably still translate it for organizational purposes, but I will still pencil it in. We have so little culture yet. Who am I to take somebody’s away from them?” She got a pencil from a holder and penciled the words into his file.

Micah smiled at that.

“I see your [Savagery] Skill and I’m not sure how to feel about it—”

“I do,” Mr. Sundberg said, giving Micah an unsatisfied look.

“—but tell me, what’s [Winter Cleaning]? I don’t think I’ve heard of the Skill before.”

He thought about his answer for a moment and answered, “It’s when you prepare something for a lack of care, ma’am. Like when you leave on a trip and have to empty all your lamps and stove, and get rid of all your perishables.”

“Ah. So when a warrior leaves for war, it’s when they prepare their house for their absence?”

“Or when they get back from the war,” Mr. Sundberg added, “and stow away their weapon for a long time of disuse?”

Micah nodded, surprised how quickly they caught on. “Exactly.”

“[Winter Cleaning], you said?” Mr. Walker asked, making a note in his own papers.

“Uhm, yes?” Micah asked.

“No need to worry. I simply wish to look it up in the Registry.”

“Oh.”

“Ah!” Ameryth said and turned to her colleague as if she had just remembered something. “Is that other thing ready yet?”

The Registrar shook his head. “Regrettably not. The paperwork has not gone through yet.”

She scoffed, “Couldn’t you have done it yourself?”

“I could. I did not.”

“Hrn. Well, then, moving on. Rikard?”

Mr. Sundberg picked it up—apparently, Rikard was his first name—by saying, “We are going to ask you a few more simple questions as to your overall experiences. Answering these questions briskly will suffice. We simply wish to get an overview of what you have done so far, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Micah said.

“Good. Now, you performed well enough during the Tower exam, however you have no experience being an Early Bird, Mr. Stranya. How much experience have you had inside of the Tower? How often, would you say, do you go into it?”

“Uhm,” he considered, “my answer would be ‘as often as possible’?”

He gave Micah a look to go on.

“These last few weeks, I have been going into the Tower every day to explore and search the Salamander’s Den, collect ingredients, earn money, or prepare for the exams. Before that, I went into the Tower about five times a week, either in the afternoons or the for the entire day on the weekends. And before that, I did it whenever my team had the time. And, of course, I only went into the Tower the first time four months ago. But I’m a quick learner.”

He nodded, scribbling something down. “And how much of the Tower have you explored?”

“I have been to every floor up until the third except for ... two,” Micah counted. “The floor of the Myconids and the higher Sewers, where the alligators live?”

He nodded. “Which floors do you have the most experience with?”

“The Salamander’s Den, the Wolves’ Den, and the Fields,” he said. “I often end up in the Sewers when blindly going through the portal and I routinely go into the Ant Hive for ingredients, however.”

Where they spent half the time doing acrobatics and horsing around, though he didn’t mention that.

“Have you ever spent the night in the Tower?”

Micah nodded, but offered no more information. He had spent four days in the Tower. He didn’t like to remember them.

“On purpose?” he added.

Micah shook his head. “But I intend to, as soon as I can convince my team to come along.”

“That answers my next question: Have you ever worked in a team before?”

“Yes, I have been climbing with Ryan Payne and Lisa Chandler for the last three months.”

“And what is your role in that group?”

“I prepare healing potions and the occasional Stat potions. I offer long-ranged support with a slingshot and alchemical ammunition of my own design. I fight in close combat with a dagger. Otherwise, I am like every other [Fighter].” The moment the words left his lips he quickly corrected, “But of course, that’s going to change! I am going to work on prepare other, more advanced alchemicals for my team other than healing potion and my ammunition.”

“Such as? And can you elaborate on your ammunition?”

Micah pointed. “It’s, uhm— Their recipes are in my portfolio?”

“Ah, of course. Sorry about that.”

“Uhm, if I may ask, sirs and ma’am. None of you seem particularly interested in my recipes?”

Ameryth sat up a bit and nodded while he flipped through the recipe book. “That’s because while you may or may not have designed some of them yourself, they aren’t original, Mr. Stranya. Anyone can buy a recipe book. Unless you have anything truly unique, there won’t be anything in there we haven’t seen before.”

“Oh.” That was harsh, Micah thought. He thought it over and didn’t think he had anything unique, aside from—

“What about my breeze potion?”

She nodded. “A minimalist variation on alchemical perfumes and deodorants. Its use is the same, is it not?”

He shook his head. “I can use them to make Saplings docile and then heat them up to weaponize them against other monsters.”

She paused and frowned. “You can?”

He nodded quickly.

“Huh. Interesting.”

“Is that … unique?”

“No.” She quickly shook her head. “By all means, no. [Mages] have froze and heated Saplings since the very first days. I just hadn’t heard of doing it with perfume before.”

Micah’s hopes fell. “Oh. But it still shows I’m innovative?”

Ameryth smiled. “You don’t have to use every opportunity to mention a good quality of yourself, Mr. Stranya. We’ve seen enough of that from your performance during and after the Tower exam.”

“Oh. Thank you, ma’am.”

Mr. Sundberg cleared his throat. “Ammo?”

Micah quickly listed the types he could make and offered some comments on how he intended to change them in the future. Afterward, Mr. Sundberg asked him a bunch of more simple questions about his work experience, qualities, what he was looking forward to in the curriculum, his old school, how he behaved in class and social circles, which Skills he could imagine getting from his callings, if he played any instruments or sports, though he had already answered that on his application forms.

Micah answered some of them well, he thought. He mentioned his time working in the bathhouse and his alchemy experiments, said he was very driven and inquisitive, that he was looking forward to most of the calling and climbing related courses as well as things like biology and social studies. He didn’t have much to say about his old school, but he admitted that he could let himself get … distracted by one thing, so that he would have troubles focussing on something else. He was surprised to find he was pretty social. He had made a lot of new friends recently, after all. However, he didn’t really know which Skills [Alchemists] got, and [Fighters] could get almost anything, so he couldn’t give any specifics. He should have spoken with Mr. Faraday before coming here.

Idiot, he told himself.

“Well, that settles all the questions we have for you today,” Mr. Sundberg said and Micah’s attention snapped together. What? Was it over already? “However, if you have any questions for us, you can ask them now.”

Micah needed a moment to think of one and asked, “Uhm, you wouldn’t happen to know how well I’ve done so far?” He tried smiling like he was just making a joke, in case he wasn’t allowed to ask.

They didn’t necessarily looked amused by the question. Instead, Ameryth raised her eyebrows and asked, “How well do you think you’ve done so far?”

Oh, no, Micah realized the trap. “I’m not sure …” he started.

“You aren’t?” she asked him.

Micah was becoming more and more aware that he had screwed up. What would they want him to answer to a question like that? Confidence? Honesty? Humor? He didn’t know.

“I may not have aced any of the exams,” he spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t know for sure how well he had done on the third exam after all. The rankings for it hadn’t been posted yet. “And I am lacking in Skills from my Path. However, I think that I’ve shown to have a lot of potential. The Registry is interested in gathering data and I brought them a new type of monster. You are interested in exploring change, ma’am, and I am … trying to do just that. I welcome the opportunities the school’s cooperation with the Climber’s Guild will offer. And my levels prove that I am willing to do what it takes to realize my potential. I truly hope that you will give me the opportunity to continue to do that at your school.”

That wasn’t half bad, right?

“Well there you have your answer,” Ameryth told him.

Micah frowned as he went back and thought his own words over. So … had he done well?

“Mr. Stranya,” Mr. Walker caught his attention with a frown. “You said you did not ‘ace’ any of the—”

Ameryth shushed him quickly and said, “We do not want to embarrass the poor boy, Walker.”

The Registrar turned his frown on her and considered before saying, “You are a cruel and unusual woman, Ms. Denner.”

“Do you have any further questions?” Mr. Sundberg interrupted them.

Micah quickly thought of the questions he had prepared to ask and picked one at random. “Do you have any advice for me on how I could prepare in the coming weeks, assuming I were to attend the school, sir?”

He nodded like he had heard the question a hundred times and glanced down at Micah’s file. “Don’t slack off. You probably prepared extensively for the exams in order to achieve what you have in such a short span of time, but if you were to the attend the school, classes will begin where the exams left off. It won’t ever get any easier from here. So continue training and revisit the material for the entrance exam. I see you have enough room to learn there.”

Micah nodded, groaning on the inside. He did not want to study for the entrance exam again.

“Also, meditate,” Ameryth said, “on your [Essence Path]. I’d be interested in seeing a second Skill from it.”

Micah gulped, but eventually nodded as well, saying, “Thank you for the advice.”

“However … be careful when you do it, Mr. Stranya,” she added. “Your [Essence Sight] may give you a unique way to look at the world, but some things are better left unseen.”

He frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Like when he saw truth essence, maybe? Or when he saw— “I’m aware of that,” he cut the thought off. “But thank you for the warning. Uhm, when can I hope to hear from you again?”

Mr. Walker stood up as he answered that, “In two to three weeks we will be approaching applicants with offers or rejections. I believe you will also hear from us then. If not, I will gladly do the paperwork myself.”

The other two also stood up and Micah quickly followed.

He shook their hands one by one and thanked them, then added, “Thank you for your time. Should I send the next one …?”

“Don’t worry about that. My receptionist will handle it. Just have a nice day.”

“Thank you,” he repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, “have a nice day, too, lady and gentlemen.”

He awkwardly waddled out of the room, greeted the receptionist in passing, and checked that annoying clock when he got the hallway. The interview had gone on for a little over an hour. Was that a good thing? Would a shorter interview have seemed more competent and memorable? Micah didn’t know. Either way, there was nothing else he could do now, except wait.

But as he walked back home and told Noelle, the only person in the house, about the interview, regret seeped in and he kept on thinking to himself, I will not lie. I will not lie. I will not lie. There was no other way around it then, was there? He had let them think he was going to advance his [Essence Path], so he was just going to have to make sure it was the truth.