Dwayne stared at his image in the mirror. He was fine with the steel gray waistcoat, the knee length skirt, and the cut of the indigo frock coat designed to show off both, but the slitted sleeves were too much. If he turned, they might slap someone in the face and cause an incident. At least the overall fit was merely snug, not skin tight.

  “How is it?” asked Francesca, her voice muffled by a curtain.

  “Is it too late for different sleeves?”

  “I told you, Miss.” The curtain muffled Rodion’s voice too. “Those aren’t him.”

  “Fine. Be boring. Here.” Francesca thrust another frock coat through the curtain. “Try this.”

  Dwayne tried it on. He liked it. The sleeve cuffs were wide enough to accommodate his Qe core bracer but not so wide that he’d knock over small children as he passed. “Much better.”

  “Finally.” Francesca pulled open the curtain. Her uniform matched Dwayne’s, although it had the slitted sleeves. “Are you sure about the slitted sleeves?”

  “Yes, I am.” Dwayne checked that the License Key was still tucked inside of his shirt then stepped out into the storage room Rodion and Francesca had commandeered. “They aren’t for me.”

  “You look good, my lord,” said Rodion.

  “You’re both boring.” Francesca’s fingers went over Dwayne’s outfit, checking the fit with tugs and brushes. “I’ll get one of you into slitted sleeves if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Oh?” Dwayne raised an eyebrow. “So Magdala turned them down too?”

  “Mei said they’d get in the way.” Francesca stood back. “Now, are you ready?”

  Dwayne sighed. “No. Can I really do this?”

  “You can and you will.” Francesca took his arm and pulled him towards the stairs. “It can’t be as bad as Offering for Her Majesty.”

  Dwayne winced. “You’re not going to let that go.”

  “Not for the rest of your life.”

  “Surely,” Rodion opened the door to the stairs and let them pass, “hunting dragons is the greater challenge.”

  “I had help then,” said Dwayne as he climbed.

  “And you had help this time too. Now,” Francesca pushed open the door to the Latia Arena lobby, “don’t let them see you squirm.”

  With that, she pushed Dwayne into the room, where quite a few people were already gathered, including Sage Smith, Professor Corn and Dean Laurence, green-cloaked Ruth Werner and Dean Bruce, and Monika Horn and Baron Thadden in gold and brown velvet. Of them, only Thadden deigned to approach, leaving his examinee in conversation with Professor Corn.

  “Good morning, young Kalan.” The baron’s smile was full of teeth and fake cheer. “I see you’ve finally decided to dress the part.” His examinee was tugging at her waistcoat, trying to get it comfortable. “This style, this design, must be your work, Miss Lucchesi. Well done.”

  Francesca curtsied. “Thank you.”

  “Good morning, Baron.” Thadden’s distraction meant Dwayne had had time to erect a facade of pleasantness onto his face. “If you’re so appreciative, perhaps our Liaison to the Exchequer could lend her talents to you in the future.”

  Francesca’s shoulders shook with mirth.

  Thadden scowled. “Neither of you will be looking so smug for long.” His eyes flicked to Francesca. “I know you haven’t heard.”

  Francesca froze. “Heard what?”

  “Oh,” a hateful twinkle entered the baron’s eyes, “you’ll find out soon.” Then he breezed away to join Corn and Horn.

  “Ignore him,” whispered Dwayne. “He takes pleasure in riling people up.”

  “I know.” Francesca brightened. “Lady Pol!”

  “Miss Lucchesi.” Lady Pol’s version of Dwayne’s outfit replaced his frock coat with a long cape. “I expected to have to drag you away from the Tower.”

  Dwayne chuckled. “Francesca and Rodion got to me first.”

  “Well done, you two.”

  Rodion bowed. “Only my job, my lady.”

  “Well, I had to fill in for Mags.” Francesca lowered her voice. “Have you seen her or Mei? They should be-” Her eyes widened. “No.”

  “No, what?”

  Dwayne turned to follow her line of sight to a woman, rimmed in sun light, standing at the lobby’s main entrance, amber eyes taking in everything and everyone. When she stepped forward, her dress’s high collar and sweeping skirt, both in cloth of gold, came into view.

  Dwayne turned back to Francesca. “Is that-”

  “Mother!” Francesca burst forward to intercept the woman mid-stride. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  “Oh, it was so last minute.” Artemisia Lucchesi, maestra, mage, merchant, caught her daughter’s face in her hands and kissed both cheeks. “Any message I could have sent would have arrived after me. James, you’re looking well.”

  “Maestra Lucchesi,” Sage Smith bowed his head, “thank you for coming. May I take you through examination procedures before-”

  “After I get a look at our examinees.” She turned to Dwayne.

  “This is Young Dwayne Kalan.” Francesca put him between herself and her mother. “He’s Head Clerk of the Royal Sorcerer’s Office, Heir to Sanford, and Lady Pol’s apprentice.”

  Dwayne bowed. “My pleasure, Maestra.”

  “Interesting.” The Lucchesi Matriarch’s eyes did the work of a ship’s inspector’s hands. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe there’s a Royal cast to your features.”

  Ah, that hadn’t needed to be said. “Have you met many Ri Royals?”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Maestra Lucchesi laughed. “Oh, you don’t want to know how many Ri Royals I’ve met. I do bear greetings from the Giordano maestra precedente. I hope you live up to her high expectations.”

  Considering Nifa Giordano had witnessed Dwayne’s efforts to defend Walton from Cazza attack, that was a tall task. “I will do my best.”

  “Maestra,” said Baron Thadden, “may I present Monika Horn who’s top of her class and already working on the river on one of my friend Ziegler’s boats.”

  The maestra’s eyes took in Horn’s uncomfortable form. “Is piloting river boats challenging, Miss Horn?”

  “I-I cannot claim it to be so, Maestra,” stammered Horn. “Only other boats make it so.”

  Maestra Lucchesi said nothing for a long moment. “Well, we’ll soon see if that’s bravado or modesty.” She turned to Bruce’s examinee. “And this must be Ruth Werner.”

  Werner curtsied. “Ma’am.”

  “Walton attests to Young Kalan’s deeds and the Brad attests Miss Horn’s. Who attests for you?”

  Dean Bruce stepped forward. “Bruce College.”

  “Ah, yes, the new College of Martial Magic.” Maestra Lucchesi’s eyes flicked to Dean Bruce. “I suppose it’s impressive to join a college. Never bothered myself.”

  “As I recall,” Dean Laurence joined the circle of conversation, “you offered to join any college that allowed you to use it as a research factor of your company, and none would take that offer.”

  This spurred nervous laughter from Professor Corn, who was hiding in Thadden’s shadow from the gathered magical elites of the Souran Queendom.

  Maestra Lucchesi smiled. “Vanessa, it has been too long. We must discuss the new contracts your colleges are strong arming Adhua into.”

  Dean Laurence smiled back. “Only after we review those inventory updates the Guilds are forcing down our throats.”

  Before Dwayne could even attempt to comprehend what was happening, a voice boomed out, “Now arriving, His Royal Highness Tor Jensen!”

  With that, the Queen’s Consort strode into the room with two royal guards at his back. Seeing them all gathered, he asked, “Oh, am I late?”

  “Not at all, Your Royal Highness,” said Sage Smith. “We’re just about to start going over the examination procedures. Unless you would also like to meet our examinees.”

  Tor Jensen looked over the three Qe Mage Master examinees, his eyes lingering longest on Dwayne. “No, that’s quite all right.”

  “Very good,” said Sage Smith. “Maestra Lucchesi, are you satisfied?”

  “Hardly, James, but that is why we’re here.”

  “In that case, allow me to take you and the other examiners into the examination chamber.”

  “Before that,” said Dean Bruce, “one point of order. Will young Kalan be allowed to take cheating implements in?”

  Dwayne’s stomach clenched, but before he had to say anything, Lady Pol asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “The boy has the License Key on his person,” said Dean Bruce. “Surely such a powerful artifact is not allowed in the examination chamber.”

  Professor Corn glanced at Thadden before saying, “I agree that it would be unusual. Save what’s necessary for propriety, it’s expected for the examinee to bring nothing but her mind.”

  Dwayne did not clutch at the Key hidden under his shirt. “Keeping track of the License Key is part of my duties as Head Clerk. I can’t let it out of my sight. I promise I haven’t written any cheat sheets on it.”

  “Furthermore,” growled Sage Smith, “such a cheat sheet would be impossible considering the precautions I and my office have taken. Dean Bruce, the suggestion that the Magisterium would allow even the slightest chance of cheating is an insult.”

  “Still, you are not an examiner,” said Bruce. “They are. Perhaps they would like to hold a vote on this matter?”

  “Unacceptable,” Tor Jensen sniffed. “We are a panel of examiners, not a rules committee. We’re here to execute our duties, no more, no less.”

  “Here, here,” said Dean Laurence.

  “Let’s get this over with,” said Maestra Lucchesi. “Some of us have real work to do.”

  Sage Smith glanced at the fourth examiner. “Professor Corn, do you object?” He received a weak head shake in reply. “Excellent. Examiners, follow me.”

  “Come on.” Lady Pol gestured for Dwayne, Francesca, and Rodion to follow her to a far corner. “Lucchesi, what can we expect from your mother?”

  It was a good question. Except for Professor Corn, Dwayne had no idea what most of the examiners thought of him, his Wesenness, or Resonance Theory.

  Francesca said nothing for a long moment.

  Dwayne nudged her. “Francesca?”

  “Sorry, I… I didn’t expect her to fly all the way up here.” Magdala’s roommate blew out a breath. “You asked what you can expect. I don’t know. She’s not here for you.”

  Dwayne’s eyebrows lifted. “She’s here for you.”

  “Will she ruin Dwayne to pressure you?” asked Lady Pol.

  “No?” Francesca’s fingers twisted into her hair. “Probably not? She’s here as Maestra, so I think she’ll see everything in terms of coins spent.” Her eyes met Dwayne’s. “And she is against any limits on trade.”

  Like, say, slaves. “She didn’t seem offended by me.”

  “I doubt she would have come here without having Katie, my second sister, write up a report on you. She knows all your exploits.” Francesca glanced at the door the examiners had disappeared into. “She won’t see you as a former slave.”

  “Ah, that’s good.”

  The lobby doors burst open, and two figures in uniforms that exchanged Dwayne’s skirt for trousers entered. One of them, a blue jewel glittering at her throat, made a beeline for Francesca. “Your mother’s-”

  “We know.”

  Magdala groaned. “I hoped to beat her here.”

  “She can fly so it was a lost cause.” Francesca smiled at Mei, who’d taken up position beside Dwayne. “Looking good, Mei.”

  Mei smiled. “You too.”

  Magdala sidled up to Dwayne. “I see Francesca got you into uniform, but not the slitted sleeves.”

  Dwayne scowled. “They are not me.”

  “Because you’re boring,” said Francesca.

  “We need not resume the argument, Miss,” said Rodion.

  “It’s not an argument because I’m right.” Francesca looped her arm through Lady Pol’s. “We should go find seats upstairs. Mei, you coming?”

  Mei looked at Magdala, who nodded. “Yes.”

  “We can go find Odette,” said Lady Pol as they walked away. “She should have saved us seats.”

  Then Dwayne was alone with Magdala. He coughed. “You look good.”

  “Thanks.” Magdala pushed hair out of her face. “How far did you get reindexing the Tower library?”

  “Not far.” Dwayne felt quivery, like the ground beneath him was shaking. “Francesca and Rodion made me come here.”

  Magdala put a hand on his. “Are you okay? Are you ready?”

  “I…” Dwayne blinked. “I think so.”

  “Good.” Magdala’s lips curved. They were so close. “You’ll do well.”

  “Yeah.” Dwayne coughed. “I should thank you. For your help studying.”

  “You’re welcome!” Magdala voice was too bright. “I mean, friends help each other out.”

  “You did more than a friend would. I mean, Mei wouldn’t put up with someone she hated just to make sure I got all my studying in.”

  Magdala winced. “You noticed.”

  “I did.” Dwayne shrugged. “I don’t think Fletcher did though.”

  “I don’t hate her, not really.” One of Magdala’s fingers traced circles on the cork of one of the potions strapped to her belt. “I just-”

  “Wanted it to be just us,” finished Dwayne.

  They were standing close, her eyes on his, her lips just one decision away.

  “Well,” Magdala coughed and stepped, “when you pass, you can help me. As a friend, of course.”

  “Yeah.” Dwayne cleared his own throat. “As friends.”

  “It’s time.” Sage Smith and the examiners had returned. “Examinees proceed to the examination hall. Everyone else, to the periscopic array room.”

  “Maggie.” Mei appeared at Dwayne’s elbow. “First shift.”

  “Acknowledge, first shift.” Magdala saluted. “I’ll see you at the Oral, Dwayne.”

  Dwayne nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Young Kalan, we do not have all day,” said Sage Smith.

  “Coming.”

  Dwayne followed the Earth Sage and the other examinees into a cleared storage room where three desks - each with three sharpened pencils, a chemical lantern, an overturned booklet and a name card - had been set up facing away from each other. Dwayne’s stood on the far side of the room, a fact he tried not to read into.

  “Examinees, take your seats.” Sage Smith was still at the door. “From now and until the sounding of the bell, speaking is a failing offense and leaving means you have completed your examination. Understood?” There was a general murmur of confirmation. “Good.” He shut them in.

  After taking off his frock coat and putting it over the back of the chair, Dwayne sat down at his desk. Now that he was here, apprehension had given way to anticipation. He’d studied with the best Soura had to offer. He was ready.

  When the bell rang, Dwayne turned over the booklet and immediately applied Fletcher’s strategy of reading the questions fully before starting.

  Question one, easy.

  Question two, also easy.

  Question three wasn’t, it referenced obscure Canon, but Magdala had drilled him on that using a text she’d dug up from the Archive.

  Question four was a monster that would take up all the time he had if he wasn’t careful. However, if he assumed that neither the Royal Consort or the maestra were familiar with the nuances of thaumaturgical theory, then he could leave off answering the more esoteric questions and have enough time to finish. Barely.

  He started to write.

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