Cara Silverstone hated politics. Somehow it followed her even to a basic recruitment for the Academy. Everything is political. What her mother used to say when she tutored Cara on the courtly arts. She hated that saying.

  She stood with the mages some distance away from the waiting and nervous recruits.

  Lady Galeria, a dark haired noble with impeccable taste in jewelry or so she would boast, doffed her hood and regarded the rest of nobles. “My lords and ladies,” she said. “We have had a decent turn out today, haven’t we? Some good pickings!”

  Cara wanted to roll her eyes and groan. She didn't debate Galeria about how the turn out was fantastic. She didn’t argue that Galeria’s idea of good pickings was people of noble repute here in Mahar. Galeria had climbed her way to the top by being born into the top. So anyone worth anything must clearly be the same. Nevermind her grandmother had fought and bled for the station Galeria so bravely enjoyed.

  “Who are you thinking of, Galeria?” asked Oscall, his own impatience hardening his voice.

  Galeria’s perfect face faltered a moment, but she recovered fast. “Well, in all honesty, I only have one boy in mind.”

  Cara knew exactly which one. The boy who almost broke Cara’s Barrier: Ayden. Cara suspected the only reason was because by doing so, Galeria may think she was slighting Cara. The petty gesturing and posturing exhausted Cara because she noticed when it happened, but didn’t care to retaliate which made people who didn’t know her think she was either dense or weak. The people like her mother, or Oscall that knew her too well, understood Cara refused to engage.

  “What do you think, Lady Cara?” asked Galeria.

  “He is an obvious pick,” said Cara.

  Galeria looked at the mages around her and beamed. “The way he cracked your Barrier. I’ve never seen such power in a recruit before. Dear Cara, do be careful. He might just rival you.”

  “I hope he does,” said Cara, meaning it. It would make her life easier to have such talent by her side.

  Galeria grew annoyed that her jabs weren’t leading anywhere. “Besides,” she said, waving her hand. “The rest pale in comparison, so I think we must only choose him.”

  That pricked Cara and she narrowed her eyes. “There were four other recruits that proved their worth today.”

  Galeria’s lips curled into a smile. “Oh? They aren’t nearly as good as Ayden.”

  “They met our standards.”

  “Weren’t you saying that our standards have dipped?” asked Galeria.

  “And those four others surpassed even the standards I’d have set,” pressed Cara.

  “I see,” she said, crossing her arms. “I understand you pity the commonfolk, even the ones in another nation. Large is your heart, but we’re trying to recruit mages of Silterra, Lady Cara.”

  “I am aware,” said Cara. “And these four have the merit to join us.”

  Galeria and Cara maintained eye contact for a few moments. This no longer was about standards or even caring for the commonfolk. This was Galeria standing her ground to prove she could, and to show how much of a stubborn brat Cara was. She’d spin this story. She spun everything from large escapades to petty squabbles like this.

  Every little jab was part of a sweeping narrative empowering a campaign for the queendom that would last until Cara’s mother passed or was expunged from the throne. Both were far off, but that’s what made situations like these cumbersome. The nobility started early and played the long game.

  Well Cara could be stubborn too if only for a different cause. Those recruits, Ayden and the other four, truly were powerful. Ayden outshone them, but Tarmon showed an exceptional affinity to healing and as much as Silterra could use artillery mages like Ayden, healers kept them alive.

  Galeria sighed and shook her head. “Always have to have it your way, right Lady Cara?”

  Cara turned to the other mages who probably saw a nineteen year old queen’s brat dying on a hill for commoners just to show how tough she was. “These four other recruits are powerful. You saw how fast Tarmon healed me. You saw how long Preeta held off Oscall’s attacks. These are not just a rabble of commonfolk. Eleda has some talent to offer.”

  The way the rest of them reacted infuriated Cara, glancing at one another like school boys and girls.

  “Can I talk to you for a moment?” asked Oscall from behind her.

  Cara almost yelled at him, but she knew better than to lose her temper in front of the rest of them. She followed Oscall through some trees while the rest of the mages started snickering and discussing amongst each other.

  “Why do you vex her?’ asked Oscall.

  Cara rounded up on him and curled her fists. “I’m vexing her?” she snarled in a low voice.

  Oscall stepped back and splayed his hands up to her. “Okay, okay, sorry,” he said. “I mean why do you debate her on this?”

  “Because those four mages she’d happily discard would be wonderful additions to our Academy. To our nation.”

  Oscall sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know. I agree. But-”

  “No buts, Oscall.” Cara felt she had to vent this out now before she punched Galeria in the face. “We are mages. Yes we are in strong noble houses, but Silterra was known for its commitment and dedication to being mages. Not freelancing mercenaries or warlords. Mages. There was a time my mother believed that. A time she got to see through to the end so she could raise her family in peace. But our duty doesn’t change. We can’t pass up on this talent just to play along with some petty, political, pleasantries.”

  Oscall looked at her with pride and though he was ten years her senior, she wished he treated her like an equal. The pride angered her more, but she suppressed it. She had connected with him. He would understand.

  “It’s just that,” he started and Cara knew by his tone she lost him. “Every time you die on a hill like this, the narrative shifts against you. I worry about our nation too and you and I both know who is queen is more important than ever.”

  “I don’t care about the throne!” cried Cara. “I don’t care about the narrative! I care about our people. You’re out on the field a week or two at a time helping them. You see how they suffer. Last month a whole river town was invaded by monsters. They had to migrate. They had to abandon their homes until you cleared it out. How many died that day?”

  “Too many,” grunted Oscall, wincing at the memory of that excursion. “But you know who handled the logistics? Your mother. She managed the migration. She ensured it was done fairly for the refugees and the people living there. Galeria or Yallessa or Rhadar would have just ignored the issue or given some bottom feeder to handle it.”

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  “I’m not a politician!” yelled Cara. “I am a mage and the best place for me is in the field or in the study or with the soldiers. That’s what we are. Where did that change?”

  “Since the best of us died, Cara,” said Oscall. “I agree. I really do. But this is reality.”

  Cara crossed her arms. “I’m taking all five of them with me. The reality is, we can’t let go of that talent. Not anymore.”

  Oscall didn’t grow angry. He just smiled and it made Cara furious. “I know,” he said.

  “Then why argue?” asked Cara.

  “To make sure you believe what you’re doing.”

  “You still think I’m some bratty child?”

  “Fates, no!” he laughed. “You’re just my cousin and the first thing you did when you met me was kick my shins because you thought I was an intruder.”

  Cara blushed at the memory. “We were kids,” she said looking away.

  “And I was more interested in jousts and girls. You were interested in history and architecture. I think everyone knew which of us were going places.”

  “You’re a great Mage Blade,” said Cara.

  “And you’re an even greater mage.” He ruffled her hair.

  “Okay I will kick your shins again,” said Cara and the two laughed it off. A weight lifted off her shoulders. She’d been stressed because she wanted Oscall to agree with her. Or allow her. He’d made it clear she can do what he wants and he’ll be proud regardless. The rest didn’t matter. What mattered was the worthy recruits got the training they deserved.

  “Let’s go piss off Galeria,” said Oscall.

  ***

  Ayden finally did it. They were on their way to Spire City in Silterran where the Silterran Mage Academy sat like a gleaming jewel. The trip would take a few weeks, especially since part of the journey took them through No Man’s Land as the folk had started to call it. A deregulated and unowned piece of territory inhabited by the Ugviri.

  Ayden recalled Xavos’s brief explanation regarding them and how much it had astounded Ayden.

  The Ugviri are the cousin species of the Grokians. Though, unlike the Grokians, they are not mad, and can perform sexual reproduction as we as asexual. It’s one of the reasons they are not extinct in this world. Both Grokians and Ugviri come from the Paradox Lands and fought as the front line force for one of the celestial armies that caused the First Crisis.

  That explanation made Ayden want to ask more, but Xavos said it was irrelevant and they should focus on training. Ayden hoped he’d learn more at the Academy, but Xavos insinuated that few scholars even knew or accepted this bit of extraterrestrial history.

  Such a narrow minded view of the world. Because they only see it as one world worth discussing!

  The journey allowed Ayden to catch up with Tarmon who seemed more amicable than the last several times Ayden had the displeasure of speaking with him.

  They rode in a carriage with the five recruits all in one vehicle and the others containing the mages. Soldiers rode alongside the line of vehicles on their horses.

  “Ayden,” said Tarmon. “I wish to apologize for my behavior in the last few years.”

  Seeing Tarmon so formal and respectful felt strange to Ayden, but he gave Tarmon a smile and a nod. Why keep the animosity? They had left that life behind. “It’s alright,” said Ayden. “We were just kids.”

  Tarmon’s face brightened. “We still are.”

  Ayden glanced out the window of the carriage and grinned at the world ahead of them. “Not anymore.”

  ***

  The carriages rolled into view of the city. A gleaming spire as the name of the city suggested rose high into the sky like a silver needle. The rest of the white marbled architecture spanned around it and featured more buildings and people than Ayden had ever seen in his life. Walls rose up and ballistas, catapults, and for the largest of the defensive towers, trebuchets lined the parapets. Soldiers and patrols dotted all around the city and Ayden felt the sudden rush of seeing so many people in one place.

  People from all around the world. People from all areas of life. People like him. People like Cara. People like even Talda and Tarmon and Nadi and Janari. All of them bustled around in and out the city gates, constantly moving like a river of stories and souls.

  Ayden wanted to recede back into his carriage, while also wanting to dive head first into the fray.

  Every other recruit gaped at the sights as they rolled through the city gates. At first when Ayden saw how much more packed the streets were, he worried the carriage would mow them over like a stampede. However, the organized chaos of a bustling city street astounded him. People parted and gave a wide berth in unison, as if rehearsed.

  The carriages snaked through the gaps and headed toward the gleaming spire of the city where at the base, Ayden would officially start his journey.

  ***

  “Welcome novices,” greeted Lady Galeria.

  The five recruits stood beside other groups from other towns and cities. Some hailed from Mahar like him, but others were local to Silterra. They all stood cloistered up before the podium outside he Academy gates. In total they numbered forty. That number looked low to Ayden. He wondered why so few in a country so packed full of potential.

  “You are all about to start your prestigious journey through Silterran Academy. Many of your cohorts will be joining you soon enough. Many were delayed due to unforeseen circumstances. Once you are in we will not waste time with more pleasantries. You will start your studies in full swing, and I hope you use our resources well.”

  “Please,” scoffed a girl next to Ayden. “My mother loves to fluff about with her words. She and I both know our estate is better than whatever’s in there.” Some of the recruits next to her snickered and leaned in.

  Ayden peered over his shoulder to the most gorgeous raven haired girl he’d ever laid eyes on. Her hair flowed straight down and spiked off toward the end in the Silterran fashion he’d spotted in the streets. A band pulled her bangs back to reveal a piercing set of blue eyes. She was tall for a girl, almost reaching Ayden’s eyes. She wore a coat that flapped down to her ankles with a shining golden belt. She looked like the epitome of academic fashion and Ayden realized the rest of the girls were imitations of her.

  He also realized in a silly way, so was he, only in a more tattered Maharian style. Compared to her, and the others like her, he looked like a pauper and his style paled in comparison to everyone around. Her eyes met his and he saw the flit up and down appraising him.

  Ayden gave her a smile, but confused himself on whether to wave or not so his hand shot up halfway and glided down.

  He saw her sniff and suppress a smile before leaning in and whispering to the others. Now they all did their rounds of peaking at Ayden before going back to their huddle.

  Ayden looked away, hiding his abashment and focused on Lady Galeria’s speech. Suddenly he realized that was the beautiful girl’s mother. The girl was a noble! He cleared his throat and pulled at his collar as sweat started to bead on his neck.

  ***

  The recruits poured into the Academy gates and found their dormitories where they would stay. Six boys per room and Ayden was stuffed in with Tarmon and four other Silterran locals. They gave both Ayden and Tarmon an appraising look just as the beautiful girl had, before joining their own huddle of four. So the split had been made at a moment’s notice. Ayden and Tarmon were Maharian smallfolk, and the Silterrans were Silterrans.

  “So we’re here,” said Tarmon, glancing at the four boys playing some dice, discussing plans for the first semester, and talking about how pretty some of the girls were. “I’m not used to this.”

  “Well, Talda had you and the other lackey bound around his thumb,” said Ayden as he started to unpack his belongings. It looked pitiful compared to the treasure troves the Silterran boys brought. “Now we’re nobodies again. Well, I always was.”

  “What?” exclaimed Tarmon. “I was talking about the city!”

  “Oh,” said Ayden.

  “You still haven’t forgiven me,” said Tarmon, halfway between resignation and anger.

  “I’m sorry,” Ayden said, finding it funny how he now was apologizing. “It’s just hard to forget. I’m used to seeing your face and fearing for my life.” The training with Xavos had changed the emotional response, but Ayden still perceived Tarmon as bad news even if he didn’t fear him anymore.

  Contrary to what Ayden expected, Tarmon did not anger further. He simply sighed and shook his head. “Talda felt powerful. He made me feel like I was part of something. Then I found I had a nack for healing. My mother grew ill and I saved her. When the town started treating me with respect and awe, Talda didn’t like that. He didn’t like me. By that time, I realized petty street feuds and bullies were smaller than the world ahead.” Tarmon looked at Ayden and smiled. “I saw how hard you’d trained. I saw how haggard you looked. I wanted to be like you. A struggler going toward something. I didn’t want to be someone left behind with Talda.”

  Ayden felt a surge of… pride? He patted Tarmon’s shoulder. “We’ll stick with each other then. This is a new side of you, honestly. I can forget the old side. I get to keep this one.”

  Tarmon gave Ayden a relieved grin. “Alright,” he said. “Forgive and forget.”

  “And never regret!”