Of the hundred or so students who’d tried out for the team, twenty-one were selected for the Circuit team. Normally, that number was supposed to be twenty, but James Rokho was one of the twenty with free passes into the team. Overall, there were forty accepted into the team. Originally, the idea had been for there to be ten per year, but since there were no divisions between upper and lowerclassmen in the Circuit, that ended up skewing more towards the high end.

Five first-years had qualified, which was about average. What wasn’t was the distribution between courses. Bianca had been a shoe-in from the start, and she was class 1. Syl hadn’t been, but he was in as a class 3. Lyon Red made it, which didn’t surprise Syl. Lia Jeksen also qualified, which did. She’d been a competent duelist, but he hadn’t seen the full extent of her abilities.

Trevor Rokho, a class 1 and prismatic-adjacent, did not qualify. The other class 1 first-year to qualify was someone Syl had yet to see in any of his classes by the name of Adama Shin. The name had registerd as odd to him, and he’d looked through his records to confirm that the Shins were a relatively notable group of stealth-type magicians who had once been refugees from Lingdao, one of the fractured states on the Asian landmass.

That made the final split two class 1s, no class 2s, and three class 3s. Even one class 3 first-year qualifying for the team was uncommon. Three of them was unheard of.

To be fair, Syl knew that Lyon was no true class 3. He was there for a reason, but since it was a prismatic family matter, he didn’t want to bother getting tangled up in it until it started directly affecting him.

Lia Jeksen was an abnormality like Syl himself, though. She must have seriously impressed the people proctoring the entrance tests, because she’d been active in all seven rounds of testing, ranging from more practice rounds to physical exams to a mental reaction game that Syl had seen once before in a laboratory.

More curious was the fact that when Syl went to James to follow up on his request to speak in a more private location, Lia came as well.

“Jeksen,” James said, looking like he’d barely broken a sweat during the tryouts. To be fair, he probably hadn’t. Syl certainly hadn’t. “Auria.”

“I’ve told you I’d prefer you use my real name,” Lia said. “You of all people should appreciate that.”

“I as well,” Syl added. “I am not the country that raised me.”

“Force of habit,” James said. “Good to see you both.”

Lia saw the questioning glance that Syl directed between the two of them and took it upon herself to explain. “We train together.”

James laughed. “That’s a generous way to put it. She beats the shit out of me with a sword taller than I am and I learn to take it a bit better each time.”

“You don’t train with your own facilities?” Syl asked.

“I know us Rokhos have plenty of our own places,” James said. “Doesn’t mean I want to owe them everything I am. You should come out to the dojo. It’ll be a good place to talk.”

“Tonight?” Syl asked. “I should have some time. I have nothing scheduled.”

Nothing that couldn’t be pushed back, at least.

“That would be lovely,” Lia said. “We’re usually pretty empty around now.”

“Would it be a problem if I bring Bianca?” Syl asked. “I’m her engineer, and for the time being, we live together.”

“Not if she’s not a problem,” James said, the joviality fading from his voice just a touch.

“She won’t be,” Syl said. She’s both more and less of one than you know.

#

The dojo that Lia and James apparently both trained at was well out of the way of the capital. It took them half an hour to get there by private car, though much of that distance was spent in the winding curves of the mountain road that led to the secluded facility.

At first glance, it looked more like a shrine than a training facility, but a quick scan of the flux in the area showed the truth of things. Everything in this shrine was imbued with powerful magic, not all of it classifiable under the modern Five Systems.

“This dojo uses unprogrammed magic,” Syl said as they entered the gate, the weight of a hefty stealth-type spell settling over his shoulders. “Is it powered by an artifact?”

“You have good eyes,” Lia said. “It’s run by a master from the Order of the Lost, so there are all kinds of artifacts here. Tower artifacts.”

Humanity had gained a strong understanding of certain types of magic, but even scientists like Syl were fully aware that they hadn’t even scratched the surface of the entire field. Though they could overpower most of what came through the Gates, the Towers were a different story. They didn’t break, but much of the power they held inside them was not explainable by the current system of magic—which simply meant that the current system of magic was incomplete.

“Quiet, too,” Bianca said as they disembarked the autonomous vehicle, making their way to a courtyard lit by pure flux. “There must be five or six layers of stealth-type spells on this.”

“Seven,” Syl said. “There’s two that look very similar since they’re both also conjuration-type—the one that interferes with radio signals and the one that redirects flux in the opposite direction of the barrier. They look like one spell, but they’re not.”

“That’s kind of creepy,” Lia commented. “Just how good are you at this stuff?”

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“I’m a good engineer,” Syl said. “This is what I’m best at, not dueling.”

James laughed, but there was little humor in it. “If combat is your weak suit, I know I’d like to never get on the wrong side of something you make.”

Syl fell silent at that, though Bianca helped save him from having to respond with a weak chuckle.

They were both thinking about Horizon Breaker. James’ statement was truer than he realized.

“I never said combat was a weak point,” Syl said. “You didn’t bring us here to chat about me, though. I doubt you wanted to spar—at least, not only that, or you wouldn’t have come somewhere this secure.”

“I did not,” James said. “Earlier, you asked about why I’m not with the military.”

Oh, fantastic. They were going to have this conversation immediately instead of dancing around it.

Judging from the spells that were under his feet, James had a backup plan in case this went south. That alone was enough for Syl to guess where this was going.

“Does she know?” Syl asked, nodding towards Lia.

“Do I know what?” she asked, confused.

“What’s Auria’s relationship with Cascadia?” Bianca asked. “Or Polaris, for that matter.”

“Um, a history question? Now?” Lia asked nervously.

James did not move, but Syl could sense the flux around his FCDs agitating.

“Yes,” Syl said. “You should know the basics, at least.”

“Er, after World War III, northern Auria rebelled and split off from the country,” Lia cited. “Then in the years after, they tried to take more of our territory, but our paragon-class magicians drove them off. Polaris allied with us to drive them off, but our magicians prevailed before the Polarian forces could engage in true combat.”

Textbook answer. The way she fidgeted during the explanation was a clue, but not definitive.

“Then what happened in San Francisco Bay three years ago?” Syl asked.

Lia’s eyes widened for a split second before she fixed her expression. “You—that was… an accident. A nuclear reactor.”

That was enough.

“So she does know,” Syl said. “You can put the FCD down, James.”

The fourth-year did, but the tension didn’t leave his shoulders.

“So we are all aware that the kingdom is lying to us,” Bianca said. “Excellent. That puts us on the same footing.”

Dangerous sentiment coming from a student, but even more so from a princess. It was for that reason that Bianca, who had originally been second in line to the throne, had been demoted to a designated survivor. She didn’t play well within the lines that her family had drawn, and though she was too talented to waste, they were sure to give her as little as they could get away with.

James exhaled deeply. “I was worried this would go differently.”

“A bit too worried, I think,” Syl said, glancing down. “Pre-prepared spells, I understand. But landmines? You’re standing here too, aren’t you?”

“How—perception-type spells shouldn’t work properly through consecrated ground,” Lia said. “You sensed them?”

“Simpler than that,” Syl said, pointing at a crack between two tiles. “Wire laid in the cracks. It’s cleverly hidden, but to anyone who knows what they’re looking for, it’s obvious. Someone’s going to have to turn them back on, by the way. I’m not familiar enough with this design to risk re-priming them myself.”

“You disarmed them?” Lia asked in disbelief.

“Of course he did,” Bianca said. “Why else would we still be standing here?”

“Unimportant,” Syl dismissed. “I’m more interested in why a member of a prismatic family has this kind of sentiment.”

“I’m no prismatic,” James hissed.

“You’re a Rokho, whether you like it or not,” Syl said. “A branch, sure, but a prismatic nonetheless.”

“So you think that because of who I popped out of, I have to be a brainwashed moron?” James asked.

“Be careful what you say,” Syl said, not giving him a reaction. “Even in the safest places, the walls have ears.”

“Are you threatening me, Auria?”

“For someone who claims to wish to disengage from his family, you do quite enjoy pointing out others’ affiliations,” Syl said. “And no. If I wanted to threaten you, this conversation would have gone very differently. I’m pointing out that most people who buy into Auria’s story are still intelligent. It’s hard to find another when all you’ve known is what you’ve been told.”

“You don’t know what it’s like out there, do you?” James asked.

“I do,” Syl said coldly, stopping the bigger man short. “But not everyone does. When was the first time you left Auria?”

James tilted his head. “First year. I made third place on the National Circuit that year. We had an exhibition match against the Cascadian national team at neutral ground near our border. It’s nowhere where the maps say it is.”

“About sixty kilometers south of where it was after the war,” Syl said, nodding. “Now, how many others can you name that went there with you? Of those, how many are prismatics? How many were told from birth that they were our sword and shield, mightier than any barbaric Cascadian magicians? How many of them think the same way you do now?”

“More than you might think.”

“They saw the world outside,” Bianca interjected. “Most will not until they are called upon to be that sword.”

“And we all know what happens then,” Syl said.

“You know an awful lot about this country for someone who shouldn’t be involved,” Lia said.

“Did I ever say I was?” Syl asked. “I’ve seen and heard a lot of things. I’m unfortunate enough to know of the world past our walls.”

“Then if you know what’s happening, why do you accept it?” James asked. Despite the amount of power he’d demonstrated before and his seniority, the master-class magician sounded to Syl like little more than a lost, angry child. “You’re obviously strong. Way stronger than you should be. Why are you still here?”

“Why are you?” Syl challenged. “What would you have me do? What are you doing? Do you want to incite a revolution against a nation run by paragon-class mages? Let’s say you win. What do you plan on doing when Cascadia sees a very real weakness?”

“Then what are you doing?” Lia asked. “I didn’t know about any of this until recently, but…”

“I’m at the Academy because it’s a good place to learn magic,” Syl lied. “I would like to become an engineer that can work on instruments of peace, and the Academy provides valuable connections in that respect.”

“There isn’t anywhere better for people like me to learn how to fight,” Bianca said. “We all know a storm is coming. When it does, I would much rather be able to weather it. Whether that education comes from a broken kingdom or not is immaterial to me.”

Syl didn’t say his true thoughts. James might have seen the combat theaters during a time of relative peace, but he didn’t know the first thing about what it actually meant to be out there.

If that storm never came, Syl would be perfectly content living in a nation that tried to pretend that there were no clouds at all.

If it did, then there was nothing he could do but burn.

#

Gate 74FA-C16 opened at 3:22 AM. It manifested three kilometers due west of First National Academy, forming just off the coast under a natural bridge. Seismographs picked up its presence immediately, but flux detectors in the area wouldn’t trigger for at least fifteen minutes.

During that time, seven people using A-class stealth-type spells entered the Gate, prematurely initiating the Gate’s defense mechanisms.

The severity of a Gate was measured by its flux impact, but increasing them was possible through triggering their “immune response” by using great deals of high-class magic without clearing one. From the outside, it would appear the same, but on the inside, a C-class Gate could easily be raised to tactical-class and even beyond.

Aurian scientific institutes did not have a way to detect this because this method of attack had never been formally recognized by the country despite its frequent usage by Cascadian operatives.

At 3:49 AM, the laboratory at First National Academy detected the Gate opening. With nobody currently on duty, it sent an automated message.

The Tournament Circuit team, made up of magicians who were largely high B or low A-class, was due to enter in fourteen hours and eleven minutes.

Nobody was detected entering or exiting the Gate. The Circuit team would be the first group authorized by Auria to enter.

They would not be alone.