Summer, year 566 of the Varakarian Cycle

  When the first light of dawn brushed the rooftops of Varakar, Kharg was already on his feet. He ate quickly, finishing warm bread, slices of sharp cheese, and a few tart plums, then stepped outside with quiet resolve. The streets were still damp from the night’s rain, the scent of wet earth not yet beingovertaken by the smells of the daytime. Narrow alleys still held the last remnants of shadow, slow to yield to the morning. The cobbles under his boots were slick and cool, a contrast to the gentle warmth gathering in the air. A breeze stirred overhead, setting shop signs creaking softly in their iron brackets.

  During the brisk walk, he passed members of the Street Lighters’ Guild extinguishing the lanterns that had guided the city through the night. One of them called out cheerfully, “Morning, lad!” and tipped his hat. Kharg returned the greeting with a smile, feeling his mood improve even further from the friendly interaction.

  Kharg passed groups of guards posted at various crossroads, their chainmail catching the pale light. They stood with relaxed discipline, watchful without appearing aggressive. He met a few gazes but moved on without pause. Their presence felt reassuring and gave him a sense of ease.

  At a wide crossing, he slowed, drawn by the sight of a tall, well-worn inn. Its wooden sign, creaking slightly on its iron bracket, bore the faded emblem of a stag and a wolf. The building rose five stories and sat squarely on the corner of Noble’s Lane, its stone foundation and fine shutters giving it a reserved elegance. For a moment, Kharg pictured what it might be like inside—firelight, soft chairs, the murmur of cultured voices over polished tables.

  Turning onto Royal Road, he noticed the change at once. The street widened, its cobblestones cleaner, the facades freshly swept and uniformly kept, exuding wealth and quiet authority. Storefronts with finely wrought signs hanging above them and polished windows stood side by side with lavish inns. Most of the houses were two or three stories high, but two inns were even higher. One large ornate sign caught his eye as he passed, “Navigators’ Guild.” Its stonework was darker than the others, the entrance framed by tall, arched doors.

  ”Quite the establishment,” he muttered and admired the Guild’s prominent facade. He continued his stroll and found himself charmed by the eclectic storefronts. “Finest Potions,” “Southern Glass,” and “Far Away Spices” were just a few of the names that stirred his imagination. Each shop seemed to hold its own story, which offered a glimpse of distant lands and untold adventures.

  His senses tingled with anticipation as he drew closer to the Academy, and he spotted a particularly attractive inn next door, named “The Enchanter’s Rest.” Kharg wondered what stories might be shared there at the end of the day’s adventures.

  His gaze climbed the granite walls of the Academy as it came into full view, far grander than anything he’d pictured. The sheer height of the enclosure set it apart from the rest of Varakar, austere and solid, projecting a weight of purpose rather than ornament. The walls formed a five-sided perimeter, each corner anchored by a broad tower that loomed against the morning sky.

  The gatehouse rose ahead of him along the Southern Road, massive and a bit intimidating. Its arched entryway spanned nearly six yards, both tall and wide, and framed in weathered stone that seemed at once inviting and severe. Kharg slowed his steps, caught between reverence and a flicker of unease. One of the guards standing watch met his gaze. Sunlight glanced off the man’s chainmail as he gave a subtle, measured nod. It wasn’t warmth exactly, but it steadied Kharg all the same, enough for him to draw breath and continue forward.

  Kharg drew a steadying breath and stepped forward, conscious of the moment’s weight. This was no ordinary doorway, it marked the edge of a world entirely new to him. There was more behind those walls than classrooms and corridors. Within them lay the chance to shape both the mage and the man he might become. It wasn’t just the start of his studies. It was a crossing into the unknown, and something in him stirred at the thought.

  Past the gatehouse, the inner courtyard stretched out in quiet splendor. Pale flagstone paths cut through beds of colorful flowers, their petals still damp with dew. A breeze stirred the trees, and the pleasant scent of damp leaves and blossoms lingered in the air. The grounds were slowly waking. Leaves rustled overhead, sunlight glinted off stone and blossom, and the first footsteps of the day echoed through the courtyard.

  Around him, students began filtering across the courtyard toward the dining hall, their excited chatter filling the morning quiet. Kharg noticed the diversity of their uniforms, some wore dark gray tunics emblazoned with the Mage Guild emblem atop a stylized flame and a seven-pointed star, while others sported simple white tunics reinforced with a bronze badge or the more intricate insignias that marked their ranks. Kharg‘s unfamiliarity with the various insignias left him intrigued, what did they all mean? Which ranks held prestige, and which implied newness?

  The wide, white-cobbled path led him toward the imposing main tower dominating the courtyard. He couldn’t help but glance to his right at a charming white-plastered stone building with a black-tiled roof, 'The Enchanter’s Shoppe'. Its broad arched doorway beckoned visitors inside, promising treasures of magic nestled within.

  Beyond the shoppe, a pair of two-story dormitories stood proudly, their black-tiled roofs reminiscent of the shoppe. This would be his new home if he chose to stay at the academy, a thought that sent a flush of excitement through him.

  “Fafne, look!” he whispered, pointing to the sign above the entrance, and the small faerie dragon perched on his shoulder flicked his wings in acknowledgment, his silvery form glinting in the soft light. Kharg had already noticed a few students cast curious glances in their direction. Fafne, with his delicate frame and iridescent scales, was sure to attract attention.

  Before he could ponder more, a group of students burst past him, their conversations echoing through the courtyard. “Did you hear about the Elements Challenge happening later?” one girl asked breathlessly, adjusting a copper badge on her tunic. Kharg’s brow furrowed, this was the kind of event he wanted to know more about.

  “Yeah! I can’t believe they’re letting the Entrants participate this year!” replied another, their eyes bright with excitement.

  “Better be careful. Last time someone got a little too ambitious and nearly knocked down a wall!” said a third with a laugh, causing the others to erupt in giggles as they raced ahead, their laughter ringing through the air.

  Kharg continued gazing around, still in awe of the Academy’s sheer size. The central tower was easily forty yards wide at its base and rose majestically into the sky, soaring to nearly five times that height, a structure whose sheer height was at once daunting and strangely alluring. Every detail of its architecture drew him in, from the smooth limestone to the way it seemed almost otherworldly in the morning light. Two rectangular buildings adjoined it, newer but equally impressive, forming adjoining wings to the tower.

  Beneath the expansive eaves of the dining hall on his left, he saw other students filtering in, their badges catching the early light. Some wore the bronze Entrant badges, while others proudly displayed silver badges adorned with the Mage Guild Crest. Intrigued, Kharg wondered what it would take to earn such recognition and differentiation among the students.

  Just then he noticed a striking figure, a tall mage in a dark gray tunic with a golden Mage Guild crest that caught the morning sun. He walked with an air of confidence, and Kharg felt a rush of admiration mixed with intimidation. As the man moved past, he noticed several of his peers whisper amongst themselves, pointing and casting glances full of curiosity.

  “An Elementarus Magus,” someone remarked, eyes wide. “Can you believe it? They say he’s mastered all seven elements!”

  “Imagine that,” Kharg thought, his ambition igniting once more. “One day, that will be me!”

  He was jarred from his thoughts by more laughter nearby. Two students, the pair felt like girls though they were merely a year or two younger than him, paused to coo at Fafne, who playfully fluttered his wings in response. “Look at that little dragon! He’s adorable!” one exclaimed, reaching out to gently stroke Fafne's back.

  Kharg grinned at their enthusiasm, feeling a swell of pride for his familiar as he basked in the attention. “His name is Fafne,” he introduced, his voice warm. “He’s my familiar.”

  “Oh, you’re so lucky!” the cute red-headed girl chimed in, eyes sparkling. “You have to show him off around the Academy. Students will love hearing about your adventures.”

  “Definitely,” Kharg replied, grateful for their kindness.

  After exchanging a few more pleasantries and enjoying the admiration Fafne attracted, Kharg took a deep breath and steeled himself. He needed to move forward and find his own place in this grand Academy and delve into the world of magic. Kharg steadied his grip on the strap of his satchel and made his way toward the tower entrance. It was time to begin. Whatever lay ahead, he would meet it on his feet. While moving past the dining hall, his gaze drifted to a larger building rising behind it—something grander, drawing him in with quiet insistence. The University building. It rose behind the courtyard, taller than anything nearby, its white marble walls already glowing under the morning sun. The glass windows set into its face were tinted in blues, greens, and deep amber. Sunlight struck them at an angle, scattering colored light across the paving stones.

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  He paused. There was something in its scale and architecture, something in the way it stood. It made him realize just how far he had come. The building had four levels, each marked by rows of windows framed in stone, and small balconies that jutted from the upper floors. Carvings lined the fa?ade, depicting dragons, wolves, birds with spread wings, and cloaked figures holding staves or scrolls. The detail was fine enough to see from a distance. They must have taken years to complete. He imagined generations of students walking beneath them, and wondered how many had stood in this very spot, trying to picture the future.

  Kharg approached the towering edifice of the Academy and a sense of awe washed over him. Six guards in polished plate armor stood sentinel at the entrance, their belted longswords catching the morning sun. The great arched doors were built from thick, pale wood, reinforced with metal bindings that shimmered faintly in the light. As he stepped closer, one of the guards raised a hand to stop him, his expression stern. “Only students and mages may enter,” the guard said in a firm voice.

  “I aim to become an entrant,” Kharg replied with a heart that was racing with anticipation.

  The guard studied him for a moment, then nodded and allowed him to pass. Kharg stepped into the tower. He passed through the open doors and into a wide passage that stretched ahead of him. On either side, doors led to unknown chambers, but his focus remained ahead. Beyond the passage, about ten yards in, the tower opened up into a grand hall that took his breath away. A ten-yard-wide mosaic circle adorned the floor, displaying the seven-pointed star of the Academy atop a stylized flame, all beautifully preserved beneath a thin layer of transparent stone.

  When he entered the hall, he was momentarily struck dumb by the grandeur surrounding him. The hall felt alive with magic, pulsing in the air, and he stood there for a brief moment, completely awestruck. Across the hall, a broad marble staircase ascended to the second floor. A balcony flanked it, its railing adorned with intricately carved dragons coiled around the pillars. The design was clearly intended for grand speeches to assembled students. Kharg’s eyes were drawn upward to the arched ceiling, almost ten yards above, painted with an image of the Tower bathed in a halo of light amid a tumultuous lightning storm. To his left, he spotted a spiral staircase winding upward, guarded by two more armored sentinels.

  Before he could gather his thoughts, a young page rushed over, assuming the newcomer was there for the entrant’s test. “You’re here for the test, right?” the page asked, his voice eager. “The tests will begin in two hours. You can return by then. They’ll take place in the room on the left.”

  Kharg murmured a quick thanks before stepping back outside, his emotions a tangle of excitement and curiosity. He wandered through the garden, taking in the vibrant flowers and intricate designs that surrounded him. After a number of small encounters with other students, he found himself more comfortable with the layout of the place, albeit still puzzled by the freedom he had to roam, except for certain areas blocked to him due to his lack of a badge.

  Upon his return, the guards recognized him and greeted him with nods. Kharg walked back into the tower with a heart pounding with anticipation. He entered the testing room which was rather plain compared to the grandeur outside. It was sparsely furnished, at the far end stood a slightly curved table behind which sat five high-backed chairs, exuding the gravitas of the assessments conducted within these walls. The air buzzed with anticipation and he could sense the weight of history in the stone walls. Apparently, the would-be applicants were supposed to stand in front of the examiners whose table formed a semi-circle around them.

  Ernold the White, the Master of Novices, sat behind the table. His hair was a flowing cascade of white which contrasted sharply with his deep blue robes adorned with gold trim. His face was lined but gentle and marked by a kind smile that reached his bright blue eyes. The elderly magus exuded warmth and wisdom and Kharg could tell that he had seen countless hopefuls walk through this door. As Kharg approached, Ernold chuckled softly, his voice like gravel mixed with honey, “Ah, an early morning applicant! I see we have a keen spirit among us today.”

  Ernold glanced at Fafne, who perched gracefully on Kharg's shoulder. The magus’ expression shifted to one of recognition and delight. “And I see you have a familiar with you! Such companions are rare and valuable in our line of work.” Fafne preened, fluffing his scales with a hint of pride.

  After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Ernold mentioned that the semester had already commenced two weeks prior and Kharg felt a twinge of anxiety. Would he be too far behind? The old magus seemed to read his thoughts, nodding reassuringly. “Worry not, young one. You will catch up in no time if you’re half as capable as your familiar suggests. And your punctuality also speaks well of you.”

  The test commenced with the Affinity Test, a crucial evaluation of Kharg’s magical reserves and recovery. The Wand of Wind lay before him, a bone wand etched with runes of Elemental Air. Having already familiarized himself with a similar wand at the Battle-Mage Academy Kharg confidently took it up and attuned himself to its magical energies over the next half hour.

  “Please remove any magical enhancements,” Ernold directed, “and use the wand until your mana is entirely expended.”

  Kharg proceeded to use the wand repeatedly to summon gentle breezes, each activation drawing on his mana. It took close to sixty activations for him to fully deplete his mana and by the end he noticed Ernold watching him with an expression that was hard to read.

  As fatigue set in, Ernold cast a probing spell to confirm Kharg’s depletion. “You’ve done well. Now, rest for two hours, and we shall see how quickly you can recover.”

  He gestured, and a young page in the blue-trimmed livery of the Mage's Tower stepped forward from the side chamber. “Take him to the meditation room. Ensure he’s not disturbed.”

  The boy nodded and led Kharg down a short corridor lined with pale stone and faintly glowing sconces. At the end stood a quiet chamber filled with calming incense and thick mats set in a circle around a low brazier. Kharg settled onto one of the mats, letting his breath slow. Fafne curled beside him, silent, though Kharg could sense the familiar’s presence easing the tension in his mind. He meditated, allowing his mana to return naturally, refraining from calling on any deeper reserves.

  Two hours later, the same page reappeared at the threshold, bowed slightly, and said, “Master Ernold awaits.”

  Kharg rose, feeling surprisingly clear-headed. He followed the boy back into the testing room, where Ernold stood once more beside the desk.

  “Let’s continue,” the magus said simply.

  The test was designed to measure his recovery rate for mana. Aware that some measure of discretion would be prudent, Kharg capped his efforts to activating the wand six times, a performance that still visibly impressed Ernold.

  “Remarkable recuperation for one so young,” Ernold noted, jotting observations into the Book of Novices.

  “How many activations would normally be required to pass?” Kharg asked as Ernold closed the book.

  “Twice would have been enough,” Ernold replied with a wry smile.

  During the test, Kharg realized just how easily he could have activated the wand another thirty times, thanks to Fafne’s discreet ability to transfer mana. It was not until weeks later that he would ponder the peculiarity of Ernold never asking him to take his time to familiarize himself with the wand.

  The next test was designed to evaluate his ability to memorize things. Five small flat stones with a rune were placed before him and then he was given a slow count of thirty to commit their order to memory. Kharg effortlessly recalled their order, and the test continued with an increasing number of stones. His natural talent allowed him to organize up to twenty-one items, far surpassing the required ten and earned him additional praise in Ernold’s notes.

  The Language Test came last. It required reading comprehension and writing skills. Having been educated in Sitch Nar, Kharg navigated this stage with casual ease, completing the tasks without difficulty.

  As the tests concluded, Ernold approached with a measured smile. “You have passed each test with grace and skill. Quite exceptional. Though I sense you might have exceeded even this result in the affinity test had you truly exerted yourself.”

  Kharg admitted that he had studied as a battle-mage in Sitch Nar. Ernold’s brows lifted with interest as he stroked his chin. “Sitch Nar… yes, they focus on martial applications of magic. Your practical skills are clearly well-honed. But let us see where you stand in other matters.”

  What followed was less a formal test than a wide-ranging conversation. Ernold probed Kharg’s knowledge of history and geography, asking him to recount major events and wars among the eight trading cities, the founding of Varakar, and the heraldic crests of its noble and merchant houses, as well as those of other prominent families in the region. Kharg managed some answers where his father’s merchant training had touched on trade routes, currencies, and the politics of commerce, but beyond that his understanding was shallow.

  When Ernold turned to questions about demons, undead, dragons, and other creatures of power, Kharg fared little better. He knew only vague tales and half-remembered accounts from his academy days, far less than one would expect of a well-schooled mage aspirant. His knowledge of metals, gems, and their uses in magical work was similarly patchy, limited mostly to their value as trade goods rather than their arcane properties.

  Yet when the discussion turned to natural science and the principles by which elemental forces interacted with the physical world, Kharg brightened. Here he could speak with some confidence, drawing on both his studies in Sitch Nar and his own observations while practicing magic. Ernold listened, nodding in approval, but finally remarked, “Your grasp is promising, though even the most capable mages benefit from years of deeper study. A solid foundation in these principles will make every future working of magic easier.”

  Ernold gave a thoughtful nod, his expression neither disappointed nor surprised. “Your talent is unquestionable, but your grounding in scholarly subjects is uneven. A mage must understand the world’s workings in order to shape them, not merely wield raw power.”

  They discussed the path forward, and Ernold explained that while Kharg’s magical ability might otherwise merit placement as a novice or even as an apprentice, it would serve him better to begin as an entrant. “With your aptitude,” Ernold assured him, “six months of dedicated study will give you the foundation you need. At that point, you may bypass the novice stage entirely and test directly for apprentice.”

  With that, Ernold pressed a copper badge with a seven-pointed star into Kharg’s hand and gestured toward the right wing of the hall. “Present this to the clerk there. He’ll see to your papers and lodgings.”

  With arrangements made, Kharg left the Room of Testing invigorated, poised to embrace his studies with renewed determination and excitement for the journey ahead.