Sam let out a groan as he slouched further down into his chair, his belt uncomfortably tight against his waist. He was struck by a dual desire to sample just one more piece of Mandra’s cooking, while also being afraid that even one more morsel of food would cause him to explode. All thoughts that Merida and the other Mage Guards had embellished the woman’s cooking had been dispelled at the first bite of a savory lamb stew.

  ? Sam had never eaten poorly in his life. With an abundant supply of farm vegetables to fill their table and a friendship with the local tavern owner, he’d never lacked food. Most of it was even good food, as both Thomas and his mother had been good cooks, capable of turning the bland vegetables one could find in the village into tasty meals. But comparing the simple meals he’d enjoyed in his coastal village to the masterpieces that Mandra had brought out felt like a crime.

  ? Merida patted him gently on the shoulder at his groan, but couldn’t muster much in the way of her usual friendly banter.

  ? “The usual reaction to Mandra’s cooking,” Peran said from across the table. Like Sam, he’d relaxed visibly, although he hadn’t gone so far as to be considered slouching. “I remember my first meal in her restaurant years ago. Every meal I’m fortunate enough to enjoy here is exquisite.”

  ? One of the other Mage Guard–an elven man named Everan–nodded. “She rivals even the chefs of the royal palace.”

  ? Peran tilted his head in his kin’s direction. “There are even rumors that the Chancellor has repeatedly offered to hire her on as his personal chef.”

  ? “I hadn’t heard that,” Merida said, suddenly sitting upright in her chair. “That pompous, self-important–”

  ? She hesitated as those elves present turned to look at her and waved a dismissive hand at them. “Ah, you know what I mean. That man has a tendency to get what he wants and to ruin those who refuse him. If he’s set his eyes on Mandra–”

  ? “Fortunately,” Peran raised his voice slightly, stilling Merida’s increasingly tense words, “The Curator is quite protective of Mandra. She caters all official feasts and banquets for the Academy and the Council, and he would be quite irate to see her taken from him.”

  ? Everan, who was still lazily eating the food on his plate, pointed a fork at Peran. “And we know the Chancellor wouldn’t dare cross Silver.”

  ? “Everan, you are well aware of the costs that come with speaking ill of His Grace,” Peran said sternly, although the expression was ruined slightly as the corner of his mouth turned upward. “But yes, Chancellor Inaro is quite keen to… afford the Curator certain liberties.”

  ? Everan snorted in disgust at the comment but offered no other reply. Peran, seeing that the topic had run its course, rose gracefully. “I’ll go and settle the bill. The rest of you should finish up quickly and prepare the caravan. I’d like to be in my quarters by dark.”

  ? “Yes, of course,” Merida said, offering a salute that *almost* felt mocking. “Can’t risk the mighty Silver Sword missing his bedtime.”

  ? Peran affected not to hear the parting remark, even as most of the others sniggered. “Never sees that one coming, does he?”

  ? Sam, feeling that he was, once again, behind, lightly tugged on Merida’s sleeve after forcing himself out of his seat. He felt twice as heavy as when he’d entered the tavern. “Why did you call him the Silver Sword? Is that some kind of title?”

  ? “Oh yeah,” the redhead replied. “I guess you wouldn’t know, but Peran was a hero in the last war. Killed dozens of elite warriors. Kinda got known for being so fast they couldn’t see him.”

  ? Everan expounded on the tale as Merida rushed forward to help one of the Mage Guard who was struggling to turn a wagon around. “They called him Quicksilver at first. Then, when it became clear that he knew how to use that sword, it turned into the Silver Sword. People say he’s the first mage to earn a warrior title.”

  ? Sam wasn’t surprised to hear it, remembering how he’d fought during the bandit attack. What was surprising was the knowledge that so few mages intersected with the warrior craft of fighting. Sure, Sam found his lessons in swordcraft tedious and exhausting, and would have avoided them entirely if given the choice. But was so much of magekind averse to fighting that Peran had been the first to achieve any sort of fame in the field? It certainly painted the lessons in a new light for the young mage apprentice. Perhaps Peran was ensuring that he didn’t waste his time learning only magic. Either that, or he simply wanted to pass on his unique blend of magic and steel to his students.

  ? Yet again, Sam found himself wondering who Peran’s other students were. Now that he was in High Thael, he’d surely be meeting them soon. Maybe it was today. The thought strained his already taut nerves to unbearable degrees. Joining the Academy had been his dream from the first day that he’d known what it was. But could he survive the introduction?

  ? With the supplies long-gone to wherever they belonged within the city, the road was mostly clear, and Peran set a cracking pace. The city slipped past Sam faster than he could take it in, not that he could muster much curiosity at the moment. He gnawed at his fingernails with his teeth with each passing city block, knowing that he was drawing closer and closer to his goal. What would he do when he reached the Academy proper? For so long, it had been an end goal in his mind. Now, he was forced to confront the truth that it was, indeed, just another start. He’d be in the Academy for at least three years for full study, not counting any extras that he–or Peran–would find and add to his curriculum.

  ? To help calm his nerves, he focused on refining his mana as he walked. He was nearly at the point where he could achieve an eight-to-one ratio, but he just couldn’t exert enough pressure on the mana once it had already condensed. There just… wasn’t enough space for the mana to exist if he wanted anything tighter than nine to one. This was likely due to a lack of mastery on his part; he knew, as Peran had already confirmed, that many mages were capable of reaching even five to one at the lower levels of mana compression.

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  ? Seeing as how he wouldn’t make any progress there, he began working on his Ki. Only the previous morning, he’d managed to reach an eleven-to-one ratio with compressing the more dense energy. It also didn’t linger nearly as long as his condensed mana. He knew he had a long way to go before he could even begin drawing the condensed ki back into his body. Thankfully, he’d had some small success with his mana, and he had a rather large cluster of condensed mana constantly sitting within its pool.

  ? The most curious change he’d noticed with permanently condensed mana was how powerful it was, and how easily it moved at his slightest thought. That made sense, given that it was twice as powerful as uncondensed mana. His efficiency with using it as fuel for spells was horrendous, of course, and the condensed mana was spent just as quickly as its normal counterparts. When he’d brought this up with Peran during one of their nightly sparring sessions, his mentor had explained that efficiency only improved with frequent casting. There was no shortcut for intuitively learning the nature of a spell and becoming more efficient with hundreds, then thousands of casts of each spell.

  ? Almost as if the thought of his mentor had summoned the man, Peran appeared beside him and gripped his elbow with one hand. “No time to waste, Samuel. We will have to visit the administrative building to complete the paperwork for your enrollment.”

  ? That was only to be expected, but Sam questioned why it was brought up so early. Did Peran think he’d be so easily distracted that he wouldn’t know what their itinerary was? He’d only beaten it into Sam’s head several times over the two weeks of travel from Harbard’s Reach to High Thael. Then, when he glanced up to mention just that, he gave a start of surprise. He hadn’t even noticed when they crossed through the gate to the Academy, or that they’d arrived. Now, he stood at the edge of a large swath of grass, surrounded on all sides by massive ornate buildings.

  ? His mouth dropping open in awe, Sam craned to look at the buildings nearby. He couldn’t begin to muster an idea of what purpose each one served, but they were all very impressive. The smallest of them was larger even than Mandra’s tavern at the edge of the city. Every structure was built out of white stone that almost seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. The largest building–where Sam assumed the classes were held–could only be described as a castle. It was eight stories high by the windows, with four towers on each corner that extended almost twice the height of the walls. And, soaring out of the center of the building, another tower, even taller than its peers.

  ? “That’s… a big building,” he muttered, unable to come up with another comment.

  ? “Quite so,” Peran said, tightening his grip on Sam’s elbow and pulling him to one side, towards the smallest of the buildings. “Come along, now.”

  ? Sam was barely able to tear his eyes away from the grand castle that dominated the skyline before Peran had dragged him into the administrative building. Thinking he should try his best to make a good first impression, he righted himself and pulled his arm free, surprised that Peran allowed the movement. Inside, things were far more normal in here, and Sam could see a few people moving about or sitting at desks through an open set of double doors. The main room, the one they’d entered, had only one desk; however, behind which sat a very ill-tempered young man, perhaps a year or two older than Sam.

  ? At least, Sam guessed that he was ill-tempered, because he had a deep scowl affixed to his face as he ran one finger down a long column of figures in a thick tome. He didn’t even look up as a bell chimed at the door’s opening, instead scribbling some line onto a long sheet of parchment that sat to his right.

  ? “Summon the head of Administration for me,” Peran said quietly, once they’d reached the desk.

  ? The young mage with dark, shaggy red hair still didn’t look up, and his tone matched the frustrated expression on his face perfectly. “Master Astori is a busy man, with more important things on his plate than coming down to–”

  ? Peran cut the mage off with a quiet cough, which made the boy look up, scowling deeper. The scowl instantly vanished as he took in who’d spoken, replaced by a look of panic that quickly transformed into proper fear. He shot to his feet at once, nearly bowing as he stumbled over his words. “M-Master Peran! I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t know it was you!”

  ? “Master Astori,” Peran said, his own temper obvious in his tone. Unlike the mage’s hot and angry tone, his was ice-cold and sharp. “Now.”?

  ? “O-of course, Master Peran! Right away!”

  ? Sam waited awkwardly a few paces behind Peran as he watched the red-haired mage run off, moving so quickly that he couldn’t be sure magic wasn’t involved somehow. It took a surprising amount of willpower not to smirk at the young mage’s reaction. It was oddly satisfying to see Peran’s disappointment and frustration pointed at someone else–for a change.

  ? The young mage returned quickly, looking doubly as panicked as he had when departing, this time followed by a surly-looking man in long, white robes. The obvious head of Administration scowled around as he was led into the room, and his eyes swept right past Sam to land on Peran. His scowl didn’t lighten, but understanding did dawn in his eyes.

  ? “You’re back.” Master Astori was a human, which surprised Sam. What was more, he obviously considered himself to hold authority over Peran, which was echoed by the fact that Peran was the first to bow in greeting. Sam racked his memory, trying to remember if he’d ever seen Peran bow before, and came up blank. “Did you enjoy your little unscheduled jaunt down by the coast?”

  ? Before Peran could answer, Master Astori’s eyes flicked to Sam again, and he straightened, keenly aware of the dust that clung to his tunic and breeches from their journey. He suddenly found himself wishing he could have bathed before coming here. He could tell at once that Astori was strict and would tolerate no untidiness in his presence.

  ? “Master Astori,” Peran said, rising smoothly from his bow, and receiving one–albeit much shallower–in kind. “I can’t say I enjoyed my time away from the city, but yes, I have returned. And I think you’ll appreciate the student I have brought.”

  ? Astori’s eyes flicked to Peran, then back to Sam once more. “I see. I take it this is the student you mentioned in your letter.”

  ? It wasn’t a question, and Sam felt his heart beating faster under the older human’s scrutinous gaze. The silence was starting to feel as if it had real weight to it, but before he could stammer out some kind of reply, Peran answered.

  ? “Yes, Master Astori. This is Samuel Bragg, from Harbard’s Reach.”

  ? “I gathered as much. That was the last location you performed an Assessment at, was it not? I remember your report about an odd result. What could have brought you back to such a remote location, knowing that it would cause you to be late for the start of the term?”

  ? “It is that very odd result that brought me back. This young man is one and the same. A new student, and the one who bore such an odd affinity.”