The theory test done and over with, the dawn of the third day of academic struggle met us. It was a day that promised to be the busiest of the week. Once again, I enjoyed a relaxing drive across the farmlands around the capital to Belmesion, when the day was still young and the nation slowly stirring. And the faithful maid kept me company on the way.
"Magic course has an exam on practical application today," Charlotte said. "Simply put, after demonstrating your theoretical knowledge on paper yesterday, they now want to see if you can put the theory into practice too."
"Unavoidable, I guess."
"The exam will be preceded by a brief mana intensity test. The examinees must have the channel capacity equivalent to Tier 2 at a minimum to be eligible for training. The higher, the better, naturally. Failing to meet the standard will cause your application to be reprocessed for the General Education course. It would seem senseless to apply as a student of magic despite not having the potential, but there are a few such cases every year."
You miss all the shots you don't take.
"Do you know how the measuring is done?" I asked.
"No. But I assume they have basic consumer-grade devices, similar to what Mysterium supplies to institutions. They tend to use mountain crystals as the core medium."
"Ah, crystals. Then it'll be easy."
There were test methods based on blood, bone marrow, and even fecal matter. Those gave more precise results, maybe, but…I didn't like them.
Charlotte continued,
"I must remind you here that the common academy staff has not been briefed about you. I believe only Headmaster Konoron himself is aware of your position. Though it's possible he has told others at his own discretion, he should know how confidential your role in the Kingdom's armed forces is. As one of the Seven Heroes and sworn to protect Calidea, I doubt he would do anything to compromise you. You should therefore assume nobody else knows. Don't do anything that might alarm the examiners."
"Alarm them how?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Don't burn anyone to ashes? If they ask sensitive questions, just act like you don't know. With the black dragon rings on, your mana readings should be no different from a decently gifted youth."
I raised my burdened arm. The dragon rings weren't very large, but wyrm scale as a material was akin to metal in composition and very dense. The hoops weighed more than iron.
"Won't the professors be weirded out by these things?"
"You could tell them it's latest street fashion," the maid suggested with a cheeky smile, before growing more serious. "I'm repeating what the General has already told you, but you may not remove any of the rings. Not even if the professors ask you to. Not even to save a person's life. The only acceptable reasons for seal removal are either to ensure your personal safety, as the absolute last resort, or to prevent an imminent, massive loss of lives. Only those two reasons. Anything else and…It will get complicated. I'm sure you know. If necessary, simply leave the exam, and we'll sort it out later with the headmaster. And also…"
Charlotte turned her gaze down at her lap, swallowing her words.
"What is it?"
She resumed with effort,
"... Relating to the earlier terms, keeping your status as a Cardinal Mage secret should be your top priority. If your connection to the state is ever exposed, or anyone not in the know persistently tries to probe into your background, then…"
I sighed. So that was the deal.
"…I know. I'm to make them disappear. You don't have to say it. That's nothing new to me."
Charlotte hung her head in affirmation. This spy of ours sure was a softie.
"I'm sorry, Ms Hope," she said. "Normally, guarding state secrets should be the CI's job. But Belmesion is formally an autonomous region. Only students and staff members are allowed on campus. We can't risk angering the Archmage by planting our agents in the premises. You'll be on your own while in there and may need to make your own decisions on the fly."
In a way, the headmaster and his staff had several hundred descendants of noble houses as "hostages." Not even the King could pick a fight with Belmesion, when the worst-case scenario meant a whole generation of elite talent wiped off the face of the earth.
That was only a silly nightmare scenario, though. The academy's policy of neutrality was specifically meant to prevent political power games in the territory. Nobody had the advantage there, not even royalty. A balance brought by voluntary disarmament, which everyone did their best to undermine.
"What can you tell me about the practical part?" I asked.
"Not much, sadly," Charlotte replied apologetically. "The contents of the test are strictly confidential. All I know is that it's designed to test the applicant's basic sensory, mana-processing, and problem-solving skills. It shouldn't be anything too difficult for you. Would defeat the point of going to school if you had to be a master to get in. What they wish to see is good intuition and critical thinking over a great show of power."
"Will there be fighting?"
"Doubtful. The headmaster is a known pacifist and opposes teaching combat applications of magic. The Sword course may have sparring matches, but I find it unlikely he would approve magic duels between untrained examinees. That would be certain to result in injuries."
Good thing—for my opponent, mostly.
We arrived at the academy, where I bid farewell to Charlotte. The paper tests were done in the central auditorium of the main house, but today's practical part took place in the Arcane department. Their headquarters lay away from the other buildings, deeper northeast in the expansive grounds. There was no risk of getting lost, though, with only one road going that way, and a steady stream of other examinees to follow. They all looked like they hadn't slept a wink, dark circles under their eyes, and were yawning nonstop.
Was this really so important?
Partially veiled by sporadic oaks on the way, the department building soon began to show itself.
Mages liked to build towers, such as the Mysterium's ambitious headquarters in Canelon. It wasn't only to show off the superiority of wizards and look down on the hapless masses from above. The architecture was symbolic of the mage's path, of "ascension." The novice rose physically through the floors at the same time as they climbed in rank and grew in ability. The whole profession was centered on the principle of spiritual traversal through worldly trials towards the greater Truth awaiting at the far end.
What truth? I had no idea.
Guess I wasn't there yet.
Surprisingly, Belmesion's "tower" was only four stories high. The facade was, of course, appropriately forbidding in design, stone images of snarling imps and wyverns perched along the line of the roof, guarding the tall banners fluttering behind them, which represented the ancient orders of mages and big-name families.
The entrance itself was another parable, narrow enough to allow only one person through at a time. Not being able to predict the person coming out and getting stuck in the passage was like a metaphorical whiplash, showing how much the novice still had to learn. I entered without bumping into anybody and came into a high, hexagonal lobby decorated with tall columns. The columns converged above at a great, casually shifting ceiling fresco portraying people in clouds, exploring a realm removed from the reaches of land. I strode across a floor of artistic checkerboard paneling of light and dark wood, which seemed almost criminal to stand on in your shoes, and joined the crowd in waiting.
A colorful mass of about two hundred examinees from all walks of life awaited their fate, the only common trait between them being their palpable anxiety. I unwittingly sought for Emily Troyard's figure in the herd. Her hairdo should've made her easy to pick out anywhere, but—
"Hm?"
I almost bumped into someone. Where first was nothing, suddenly stood a short figure blocking my way. I'd never been caught by surprise like that before, in all my years. I took a reflexive step back and faced the odd figure jutting there on the floor. The prepubescent figure of a girl child.
A bloodless doll face framed by short, rough-cut strands of a peculiar, pale gradient. I wasn't exactly a goliath, but she was not tall enough to reach my chest, standing still there like a bollard without a word. Staring. Staring with her big, blood-red eyes that had the keen disposition of something foreign and timeless.
It was the granddaughter of the Archmage? Or so Emily had called her. The child's name I'd already forgotten.
"Can I help you?" I asked, since the girl said nothing.
"You—reek of death," she spoke softly.
Excuse me? The soap I used was scented vanilla.
"And," she added, bringing her gaze down to my left arm, "of dragons."
Those were fighting words. We were coming too close to lines that shouldn't be crossed.
"...Pick your next words with special care," I quietly advised her, narrowing my gaze and clenched my fists.
She met my glare without flinching or moving.
"Don't bring trouble for my contractor," she said. "Or I will make you regret it."
I frowned. Contractor? What was she talking about? Some children's game? Before I could ask for clarification, the resounding bang of a door across the hall stole my attention.
A faculty member in dark scholar's robes entered, a piece of parchment in hand.
"Good morning, everyone!" he exclaimed, loud enough for his voice to reach every corner of the lobby. "And welcome to the Arcane department of Belmesion! We will hereby begin the aptitude test for the Magic course! Anyone who's not taking the exam must now leave the premises, thank you! When you hear your name called, please step forward and head on through that door in the far back, where you will be guided on."
When I looked again, the child was gone. Moving in a way not even my senses could keep track of—I sure would've liked to know the trick to that. What was that all about, anyway? Did her grandfather put her up to this, or was the kid acting on her own?
It would have to stay a mystery for now.
The professor with the list began to call out names,
"Abbott, Ismael."
"Here!"
A stern young man departed for the door in the back in stiff strides. I wasn't sure how they managed it, but the professor reading the list never left the hall, yet he still knew without checking when the previous examination was done, and the next one could go in.
There had to have been multiple measuring rooms. The pace was speedy enough that I gave up on looking for small talk with anyone and waited quietly for my turn. Not all the names called received an answer, and after calling three times in vain, the examiner unceremoniously crossed them over. Either the applicant never made it to the exam, or felt their performance in the earlier days wasn't worth continuing.
The situation reminded me of those roll calls in the army, where the lack of response meant the person was KIA. One path in life had met its end, a journey concluded. In a sense, that was the case here as well. Though those alive always had the choice to start anew. But as I thought about it, I could understand the nervous tension just a little.
If not here, where else could my path go? Maybe I should've been more anxious.