Samuel had barely a day or two to acclimate to the grandeur of his new home, the massive mansion that sat upon a grand yard. He wasn’t prepared for how much more opulent the College of Milagre would be. The entire campus stretched for nearly half a kilometer end to end, and about half of the space was occupied by a palace-style building, nearly six stories high and ringed by seven tall towers. These towers loomed over the rest of the College and reached so high that their peaks were lost in the clouds.
“Have these people ever heard of moderation?” He asked, his head craned back to take in the nearest of the towers. “Who needs a tower that size in a school?”
“You clearly don’t know,” Shigeru replied. “Each of those towers serves as the home of one of the seven Archmages. It’s a symbol of their power and prestige, and outlines the honor of the role.”
“How do you know so much about the College?”
“Simple. I’ve talked to some of the guards you hired. They’ve told me a bit about the city.”
So you’ll speak freely with the other guards, but not with me. Samuel hoped the vehemence of that thought wouldn’t transfer to Shigeru. The warrior showed no sign of reaction, so he thought he was safe. “Still, that’s a bit too much. I’d be exhausted if I had to climb those stairs every day.”
He looked down just in time to catch the slight smirk on Shigeru’s face. “So you’ve already decided on the goal of becoming an Archmage? Very ambitious.”
Samuel’s face felt hot all of a sudden, and he knew his cheeks would be flushing red. He took the lead in an attempt to hide it, making his way for the nearest building. A sign above the doorway labeled it as the administrative building, and he assumed that it also dealt with admissions to the school.
Inside, he was pleased to see less extravagant decorations than what had existed outside. A simple stone floor, strategically covered in places with dark blue and grey rugs. It was a large room, but the desks and tables lining the walls gave the space a cozy, busy feeling. At the far end of the room, the largest desk of them all sat so that it faced the entrance, and it was attended by a figure in a dark red robe. There were already three people in line to speak with the attendant, so Samuel waited patiently for his turn.
This place hasn’t changed much since my last visit, Grimr’s voice sounded in the back of his mind. Still a temple of learning, and still choked with delusion.
Samuel ignored this comment, wisely, and instead focused his attention on the walls. Several paintings were hung here, all depicting old men of various races - though mostly human - depicted in white robes. There were just over fifty, he realized. White robes, he knew, depicted the Archmages of the College. As the towers indicated, there were seven of them, and it was a lifetime appointment. A new Archmage was only selected after the previous one died. He didn’t lie to himself and try to say that he wasn’t interested in being an Archmage, but not for the reasons that others might suspect. He wanted to master Magic, and achieving that vaulted role would be undeniable proof that he had.
The first person in line moved away, nodding politely at Samuel as he passed. Why had he picked him out of the entire line to greet him personally? Then he realized that it was because he was the only one not wearing College robes. He was instantly identifiable to everyone here as someone who wasn’t… included. Well, he thought, that would change soon if he got what he wanted.
“Welcome to the College of Milagre,” the red-robed attendant said, startling Samuel out of his thoughts. “How may I help you today?”
The other two figures in the line had gone already. How long had he been standing there lost in his thoughts? He cleared his throat nervously. “Hi, hello. I’m here to enroll in the College.”
The attendant didn’t seem surprised. Reaching below the desk, he retrieved a heavy tome and slammed it down, opening it near the end. “What’s your name, then?”
“Err, Samuel Bragg.”
The attendant paused halfway through reaching for a quill that sat nearby and glanced up. His eyes fixated on the silver owl stitched on Samuel’s chest. “Oh, my apologies, Lord Bragg. I’m just a little tired after a long night of study and practice. Please forgive me for my rudeness.”
He scrawled Samuel’s name down into the tome, then asked, “Which school do you favor? As you know, it won’t affect your study here, but it will help your teachers get an understanding of your specialty.”
Samuel hesitated a few seconds, then admitted, “I… don’t know what the schools are. I was under the impression there was only this College.”
The sound of the quill scratching halted, and the attendant slowly looked up at him, this time in incredulous disbelief. “I’m sorry?”
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“I’m here to join the College, so I guess I favor this one.”
“You don’t know about the seven schools of magic?”
Samuel and the attendant stared blankly at each other for several seconds, neither one understanding the other. “There are multiple schools of magic?”
“Yes,” the man said slowly. “Destruction, Restoration, Divination, Alchemy, Travel, Transmutation, and Knowledge. Usually, you’ll have divined your preferred school when you first started practicing magic.”
“Oh,” Samuel said, surprised by the news. He wondered why this information wasn’t publicly available. They could have included it on the flyers they sent out, at the very least. “I’ve never taken that test. Will that prevent me from entering?”
“Not necessarily,” the attendant replied. “We can perform the test now if you wish. Or you can come back after you’ve had some time to practice it. Channeling raw mana is difficult for novice mages.”
“I’ll take the test now,” Samuel said, leaning forward eagerly. “What does it entail?”
The attendant slid the thick tome to the side, and reached under the desk again, this time retrieving a large wooden bowl. Then he filled it with water, before dropping in a small amount of dust from a pouch at his belt. He swirled the bowl around, making sure the dust was evenly distributed, then placed it on the desk.
“Channel your mana into the bow. We’ll be able to tell which school you prefer by the way that the bowl or the water changes.”
“I… see,” Samuel said, not entirely sure that he did. Still, he was up to the challenge. Now the challenge he faced was figuring out how to channel his mana. He’d only used magic once so far in his life, and that hadn’t exactly been his choice. Uncertainly, he glanced over his shoulder at Grimr. The black cat was watching him closely with those violet eyes. He seemed to understand what Samuel wanted, and to his surprise, obliged.
Remember the sensation when I channeled your mana for you. Identify that sensation, and call it forward. As far as hints went, it was pretty vague, Samuel thought. He put one hand over the bowl and closed his eyes, remembering the fight against the bandits. He’d always assumed that it was Grimr’s mana used to cast that lightning spell, but the Ancient seemed to be saying otherwise. What had it felt like when the mana had flowed through and out his body, resulting in that powerful spell that had knocked him out? It had felt like heat, he remembered.
He focused on that heat now, searching his mind to try and find it again. It was surprisingly easy to search out, now that he knew what he was looking for. Was it supposed to be so bright and dense? He couldn’t be sure if that was a product of his Ancient mind, or if mana just varied wildly from person to person. He didn’t have to think about that just yet. Steeling his mind and focusing hard, he set his mind to expand that pool of hot, fluid energy.
It moved like his very blood, coursing down into his chest and through his very veins into his arms. It seeped out of his body, coursing over his skin like the flow of a river. Peaceful, but capable of great things. When he finally did open his eyes, it was to see a thin layer of white light coating his arms and hands, dancing lightly around his fingers. He expected it to drip off of him in torrents but it clung, like the lightest robe in the world, to his skin.
“You’re supposed to touch the bowl,” the attendant said, now sounding a bit exasperated. But somehow, Samuel knew that wasn’t quite right. So instead of touching the bowl, he extended one hand over it, letting a tiny drop of his mana cascade down and into the water. It made no ripple as it landed, but the change it caused in the bowl was immediate and quite startling.
Starting from the center where his mana had landed, the muddy water in the bowl rapidly cleared of all grit and imperfection, leaving a pure, clean liquid in its place. Barely half a second later, the bowl became clear as well, transforming from wood to a fine, fragile-looking crystal.
“How in Oblivion did you do that?” The attendant asked, looking at Smauel with a mix of amazement and concern. “That shouldn’t even be poss-”
His voice died as he looked down at the bowl, taking in its change for the first time. Samuel looked up at the attendant’s face, pleased with himself for passing the test on the first try. “So what does that mean? Which school of magic do I favor?”
The attendant didn’t seem to hear him. His mouth had dropped open in a gesture of surprise that Samuel didn’t understand. Why should this result shock him any more than the others that could have occurred? He was certain that with only seven schools, and hundreds of mage apprentices that had come to study here, he would have seen this result plenty of times.
“Wait here, please,” the attendant said, looking shell-shocked. He moved away from the desk, and shouted over his shoulder as he ran toward one of the side doors. “Just wait there!”
Samuel was on the verge of shouting after the attending, to ask what he was going on about, and why the results of his test could be so strange, but the attendant was already through the door and out of sight. Grimr jumped from Shgieru’s shoulder onto the desk and walked around the bowl, staring intently down at it.
Do you know what this means, Grimr? Samuel cast his slightly frustrated thoughts at the Ancient, wanting some answers.
I cannot be certain. I have an idea, and if I’m right, this is a first for the College.
That only annoyed Samuel more. What was it with the people in his life and their refusal to answer simple questions with simple answers? But before he could form any sort of retort, Grimr calmed him with another message. Just wait patiently, Samuel. This may very well be the start of something quite interesting. You will need patience.
Samuel waited, his teeth clenched and his feet moving restlessly. He couldn’t sit perfectly still while waiting for the attendant to return. Luckily, he wasn’t kept in suspense for too much longer, as the attendant returned after just over two minutes of absence. When he came back, there was a figure in a white robe following closely behind him.
“Look, Archmage,” the attendant said, a bit breathless. He pointed down at the bowl. Looking, the Archmage’s eyes widened slightly. He glanced between the bowl and Samuel, then back several times, his brows furrowed in deep thought. For all the consideration and analysis he seemed to be doing in his mind, he only offered one word in reply.
“Interesting.”