The wagon passed beneath the capital's main gate shortly before sunset.
Caelan had expected noise. He hadn't expected so much of it.
Merchants called out prices from crowded stalls. Horses pulled carts through streets paved with uneven stone. Enchanted lamps flickered to life above shop entrances, while small rune plates embedded in the road directed wagons toward different districts.
A delivery cart rolled past them without a driver, following a faintly glowing line along the street.
Caelan turned to watch it.
"Cargo transport," Garrick explained. "The route rune guides it along a fixed path. They're useful for moving goods through busy districts, though they become unreliable if the road's enchantments are damaged."
"Can anyone operate one?"
"Anyone who has permission to load it and understands the controls. Making the system is another matter."
Before Caelan could ask more, a bell rang from a nearby tower. Several pedestrians stepped aside as a line of mounted guards passed through the intersection.
The capital was not simply a larger version of Westmere. Everything seemed connected to something else—roads, buildings, transport systems, and the magical structures supporting them.
Yet it wasn't perfectly organized.
A vendor argued with a customer over a defective heating stone. Two workers were repairing a cracked section of pavement. A young man carrying a stack of books nearly collided with a woman leading a mule.
The city was busy, complicated, and full of ordinary problems.
Caelan found that reassuring.
"Stop staring at every building," Elara said gently. "You'll hurt your neck."
"I'm looking at the road."
"Of course."
Garrick laughed quietly as he guided the wagon toward a quieter street.
Their inn stood near the eastern market district, a three-story building with a painted wooden sign depicting a golden lantern. The ground floor contained a dining room, while the upper floors offered modest rooms for travelers.
After arranging their accommodation and unloading their belongings, they went downstairs for supper.
The dining room was crowded. Travelers occupied most of the tables, and the smell of roasted meat, bread, and herbs filled the air.
Caelan sat beside his parents and listened to the conversations around him.
At the next table, two young men were arguing about magical affinities.
"Fire is obviously better for combat," one insisted.
"Until you face someone who can redirect heat or deprive the spell of oxygen," the other replied.
"That's just an excuse. More power wins."
"Then why do experienced mages spend years studying control?"
Their argument continued until an older woman at their table told them to eat before their food went cold.
Caelan returned his attention to his meal.
"What do you think?" Elara asked.
"About their argument?"
She nodded.
"They're treating affinity as if it determines the outcome by itself. But the result would depend on the spells, the environment, the mages' abilities, and how well they understand what they're doing."
Garrick cut a piece of bread.
"That answer won't make you popular in a debate."
"I'm not trying to win their debate."
"No," his father said. "You're trying to understand the problem."
Elara gave Garrick a look. "Don't encourage him to analyze his supper."
"I wasn't."
"You were about to."
For the remainder of the meal, he resisted the temptation to listen to every conversation in the room.
He didn't succeed entirely.
The following morning, Garrick took Caelan to the academy's registration office.
They left Elara at the inn to organize their belongings and follow up on their lodging arrangements. The streets were already crowded, but Garrick knew the route and led them through several side streets toward the educational district.
The buildings changed as they approached.
Shops gave way to libraries, lecture halls, and administrative offices. Students in various uniforms walked in groups, some carrying books while others discussed assignments. Small magical devices hovered above a public notice board, displaying announcements that changed every few moments.
Then they reached the academy grounds.
A tall iron fence surrounded an extensive complex of stone buildings. Beyond the entrance stood a broad courtyard, neatly maintained gardens, and several towers connected by covered walkways. The largest building bore the academy's emblem: a tower enclosed within a ring of runes.
Caelan stopped for a moment.
Garrick didn't hurry him.
"Impressive, isn't it?" his father asked.
"Yes."
"Remember that the buildings are only part of it. The people inside are what you'll be dealing with."
Caelan nodded, and they continued toward the registration office.
Inside, the hall was quieter than the street outside. Candidates and their guardians stood in orderly lines, while clerks worked behind long wooden counters.
A sign above the nearest desk read PRELIMINARY ASSESSMENT REGISTRATION.
Garrick approached with the required documents.
The clerk, a woman with dark hair tied neatly behind her head, examined the papers one by one.
"Caelan Veyr, from Westmere?"
"Yes," Caelan answered.
She checked the seal on his assessment notice, compared it with a ledger, and marked a line with a narrow pen.
"Your registration is confirmed. The preliminary assessment begins in three days. Candidates must report to the eastern examination hall before the morning bell."
She handed him a small brass token stamped with the academy emblem.
"Keep this. You'll need it to enter the candidate examination area. If you lose it, report to this office immediately."
Caelan placed the token inside his pouch.
"Will we receive details about the practical examination beforehand?"
"No. The general requirements have already been provided. Specific tasks will be explained on the day."
"Are candidates expected to bring their own magical equipment?"
"Only basic personal supplies. Specialized materials will be provided when necessary. You may bring a notebook, but written references are not permitted during practical evaluations."
Caelan thanked her and stepped away from the counter.
Outside, Garrick asked, "Anything else you wanted to know?"
"Not at the moment."
"Good. We can visit the examination hall tomorrow. Today, we'll get you settled and find somewhere for you to study."
They crossed the courtyard on their way out. Caelan glanced toward the nearest tower, where several students were practicing in a supervised outdoor area.
One drew a rune in the air, but the pattern collapsed before activation. Another student laughed, then immediately made the same mistake with a different spell.
Their instructor corrected both without raising his voice.
Caelan watched until Garrick called him onward.
That afternoon, Caelan sat beside the inn's window with his notebook open.
He had three days before the assessment.
Rather than repeat every exercise he had ever learned, he divided his remaining practice into three areas: rune construction, mana control, and maintaining patterns under pressure.
He spent the first hour drawing simple runes on paper, checking the proportions of each line. Then he moved to mana practice, constructing temporary patterns in the air and allowing them to dissolve before activation.
The work was familiar, but the quiet room offered fewer distractions than Serah's workshop.
After several successful attempts, he moved to a more demanding exercise: sustaining two simple patterns at once.
The first rune remained stable. The second wavered whenever his attention shifted.
He stopped, relaxed his hands, and tried again.
This time, both patterns held long enough for him to activate them in sequence.
A knock sounded at the door.
Garrick entered carrying two cups of water.
"Still practising?"
"I wanted to see how much I could manage without Serah correcting me."
"And the result?"
"I can maintain two simple patterns if I keep them uncomplicated. Anything more demanding becomes inconsistent."
"Then that's what you know. Don't turn it into a claim about what you'll manage under every condition."
Caelan accepted the water.
"Do you think I'll pass?"
Garrick considered the question rather than answering immediately.
"I think you've prepared seriously. I also think there will be candidates who are better at certain things than you are."
"That's likely."
"And some who aren't."
Caelan smiled faintly.
His father pulled a chair closer to the window.
"Your first task isn't to prove you're the most talented person in that building. It's to show the examiners what you can actually do. If you make a mistake, recover if you can. If you don't understand an instruction, ask for clarification when permitted. And don't waste time comparing yourself with someone who has a different background."
Caelan closed his notebook.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Good. Now take a break. Your mother wants to explore the market, and she has already decided you're coming with us."
"Did she decide that before or after asking me?"
Garrick stood.
"Before, I suspect."
Caelan sighed, packed his notebook, and followed his father downstairs.
For the next few hours, the academy was forgotten beneath the practical demands of buying supplies, finding their way through unfamiliar streets, and listening to Elara negotiate a better price for a set of household goods.
By evening, Caelan had learned three useful things about the capital: the eastern market was impossible to navigate without paying attention, the local bread was better than the inn's, and his mother was considerably more intimidating to merchants than either he or Garrick had anticipated.
He returned to the inn tired but in a good mood.
Three days remained.
Tomorrow, he would see the examination hall.
And after that, there would be no more preparation to hide behind.