Walking down the main road, Brennan saw their destination from a distance. Instead of the regular dirt-and-grass field he was used to, a small palace stood. He blinked, squinting to get a more accurate view of it.
Actually, no. Rather than a palace, it was merely a deployable red tent luxurious enough to look like one. And massive enough to house dozens of people with room to spare. How did they even find the time to set that up?
No one answered his unasked question, making him stare in muted awe as his nerves ratcheted up to the nth degree. He tried to calm his shivers, once again cursing himself for not taking an acting skill. It would’ve made maintaining a casual air so much easier—broadcasting his trepidation about the test potentially altering the course of his life would be humiliating.
Agnes kept pace beside him, her lips pressed together in a worried line. In an act that surprised him, she grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the way of an adult he would’ve bumped into. Brennan stared, bewildered that he let his attention slip so much.
Stay focused.
What did he have skills for if he ignored what they told him? He absolutely couldn’t lose his head here. His mind was the only advantage he had over the other kids. In a way, this moment represented a microcosm of his life as a whole. During the seven years he had walked this planet, standing out from the crowd became his north star. People in his age group were the benchmark he used to ensure the divide never shrank. Standing in line, waiting to have his measure taken another way, he realized there would always be things he couldn’t prepare for.
And there was plenty of competition, he saw when he looked around. More than a hundred kids had gathered around the square, many of them with adults looking on from the sidelines or in the case of some younger children, carrying them outright.
The sight struck him as odd, for some reason. He hadn’t ever really considered the population of Craswidge maintaining itself through consistent reproduction every year. Whenever he used to go outside, he would see smaller children running around, but it only now hit him that he wasn't particularly involved with the community, preferring to stay on the periphery where he could do his thing unbothered. The growth of the village had escaped him.
Conversely, the kingdom had not fallen victim to such negligence. Case in point, this entire event—if he could call it that—existed to go over the new generations and scout for talent.
Like his, Brennan thought.
Should the test work out in his favor, it would be the end of his time in Craswidge. The change of scenery he would no doubt experience suddenly felt… close. Closer than he had prepared himself for. Yet it might turn into his golden ticket.
All this time, he'd viewed leaving the village as an inevitability he couldn't escape if he wanted to become somebody. That still held true, but now that thought came with a twinge of discomfort. The people whom he’d built rapport with lived here, not anywhere else. If he left, he would be a stranger to all, dependent on the Royal Mage's word to guide him along.
Supposedly, said mage was already present in that pavilion, just beyond the outer cloth. One by one, people entered and exited, various looks on their faces. Disappointment mingling with bafflement or confusion for the most part, and some agitation.
Brennan came to stand in line, behind a lady in farmer getup holding a toddler’s hand. The little boy was grinning, and he wondered how long that enthusiasm would last. He dismissed the thought as it came up. It bore no relevance to him, he had enough to worry about without involving strangers.
Farther to the side, he saw Junia waving to get his attention. He waved back, then mouthed a silent question asking where their parents were. She turned and called out at some people he couldn’t see before two familiar figures popped up over her shoulders. George offered a reassuring nod. And Doris?
Her expression was haunted. The shift in atmosphere threw him off so much he had to reassess the entire situation. Had he overlooked something? Seconds later, he realized that this actually explained a great deal.
This is why she’s been acting so strange for the past few months. Does she know something…? Do I have mage grandparents, or what?
Just like that, awaiting his turn became far more nerve-wracking. If there was a real chance of him having an extraordinary result, he needed to treat it more carefully. One wrong word, and he could change the dynamics of his relationship with someone important for the worse.
Assuming they were a stickler for formality, anyway. Although he planned to go in with his eyes wide open, nothing would make him fully ready for this talent measuring contest. Manners would only go so far, and he didn’t even have a social skill.
Another opportunity wasted.
The line moved on, people walking through the pavilion’s entrance to face the representative of the royal family. Agnes stepped towards judgment every time he did, silent as ever. To pass the time, Brennan called on his status to remind himself of his progress, despite nothing meaningful having changed in the last hour. Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping.com.
Up ahead, he saw Tobin, Byron and Liam coming out of the tent, the former two shaking Liam’s shoulder while the lanky boy gave the same impression of being off in his own world like he always did. They’d made it out fine.
The author posts this chapter at www.NovelPhoenix.com; this version was reproduced without permission, and reading there supports the writer.
Soon, Brennan brought his mental agonizing to a halt as they came in Sense Magic’s range. Nothing stood out. Specifically, he meant nothing stood out inside. If there were people or items past the red tent flaps, he knew no more of them than anybody else. The effect was almost identical to the one he had observed on the first mage he had ever met, only in place of clothing, a whole square worth of space made up a blank spot in his awareness.
On the physical side, he used his eyes to see the crest woven into the fabric. Gold on red, creating a sharp image of a phoenix rising above a tree. The symbol summoned memories of textbooks and wares from the local market.
House Laithergale’s coat of arms. Whenever a villager drew near, they would bear witness to the mark of the royal family. Propaganda or intimidation, Brennan guessed. Maybe both.
They finally got the chance to enter a few minutes later, and inside he didn’t sense all that much of a difference from outside in terms of magical signatures. He sensed enchantments in the crystalline ball and the small podium around it, but the pavilion was otherwise bare save for the Craswidge natives and the person conducting the tests.
No other staff manned the tent. Brennan had thought that when people mentioned a court wizard visiting, they meant them plus their retinue of servants who would handle logistics and other mundane tasks for a person of high rank and esteem. But no. The mage had come here on his own, with not a soul to accompany him.
He clearly didn’t need it. Because Brennan could sense it, the weight to this man’s presence. Sporting an enchanted crimson long coat and a trimmed goatee and mustache, an air of boredom surrounded him as he called out the rankings after people touched the ball.
The scene gave the impression of a giant cobra gazing over a herd of rabbits. Should he wish it, any one of them would be dead in a second. Court wizard or royal mage, he didn’t know what label was more accurate. It mattered little in the face of overwhelming power. Beneath his polished, gold-buckled black shoes, a platform of unfamiliar mana held him aloft. He quite literally hovered over them, out of reach for the peasants below.
Fourth stratum, at least. And not a recent promotion.
He could say with complete certainty that this was the strongest human he had ever laid eyes on, breaking a barrier he didn’t know he’d subconsciously set for what was possible in this world. Intellectually, the knowledge of people on this level wasn’t news to him, but seeing it for the first time tickled an instinctive part of his brain that screamed at him to bow down. To demonstrate obeisance.
Brennan heard the results being called out. Faint earth affinity, low wind, low fire, the occasional moderate ranking. None of them warranted further comment, apparently. He wrung his hands—the rankings had gone from a subject of academic interest to a relevant topic in his life in moments.
Throughout the kingdom, fire affinity prevailed, though the other common elements had a fair rate of incidence too. Even in this rural area, the percentages corroborated the statistical data pertaining to the wider nation. A common sample, nothing out of the ordinary.
When the woman in front of them laid her son’s hand on the sphere, it tinted orange. The mage said, “Faint fire,” and gestured for them to move along. The boy started crying, prompting the mother to apologize profusely before hurrying the nuisance out of the tent.
And so, the path in front of Brennan cleared. No more obstacles standing between him and an enforcing arm of the highest echelon of society. A good evaluation here could alter the course of his future. Glancing back, he noticed he was among the last dozen.
“Forward, child. Do not presume to be worth my time, lest you find yourself bearing the consequences of wasting it,” the mage spoke, his neutral voice cutting across the room.
Flinching, Brennan spun around, a shiver running down his back as he woodenly approached the podium. Ascending the steps up to the ball, he said, “I apologize, sir, I didn’t mean to offend. My name is Brennan Kerrick.”
“Right,” he said, cataloguing the term in his head. Finding no other ways to stall, he brought his fingers down on the cool surface that would tell him his fate. He waited.
And waited some more.
“I think I touched it wrong,” he tried to say when he couldn’t discern any changes.
“A null.” Oswald’s eyes practically glazed over. If there had been a miniscule degree of interest before, it disappeared now.
At the dull tone, he winced. Did this mean he failed? “Ah, what’s a null, sir?”
“Common parlance for a dearth of elemental affinity in non-magical species.”
Brennan thought he would leave it at that, his verdict final. Nevertheless, the mage proved he was nothing if not thorough. Producing another chorded tool from his coat, he tied it around Brennan’s wrist and rested a finger against the frantic pulse there.
Hope briefly rose in his chest. A foolish sentiment that Oswald crushed with his next sentence, untying the chord. “Secondary inspection displays an identical result, the focus was not mistaken.”
“So I c—”
“To the exit with you,” said the man, signaling the end of their interaction.
Brennan wanted to argue, but the cold demeanor this mage showed made him quiet down. Reluctantly, he retreated from the room at a sedate pace to wait for Agnes.
A surge.
Blinding light engulfed the pavilion, searing every corner with its radiance. He had to squeeze his eyes shut and raise an arm to block it out.
He was still blinking to clear his vision, and the sight in front of him slowly clarified into Agnes holding the crystal ball, except it had taken on a different appearance. Milky fog, with streaks of glowing white twisting into the gaps.
“Ranahten’s wings…” Oswald gasped. “Supreme mist and light affinity, in a frontier settlement of all places.” Platform forgotten, the Fourth Stratum Mage dropped onto the dirt and clutched Agnes by the arm.
“We leave within the hour,” he announced, tone brooking no argument.
Agnes stared at Brennan, a thousand words unspoken. He knew how to read her. That was why he could tell.
She didn’t want to go.