“What do you know?” Abel shouts. “Ignore them. If they want to take this test lightly, let them. The reason I’m not standing in front of the whole crowd is to keep away idiots like you who don’t take the Hall seriously. You can take your disapproval and condescension somewhere else. We have important matters to discuss.”

“Perhaps you would like to share these important matters with the assistant instructors,” Alana counters. “They are here to help us. I’m sure they’d be happy to cooperate with your wonderful plan. Perhaps they’ll let you skip the qualifiers in recognition of your…brilliance and charity.”

I snicker at his expression. For someone who loves talking, his back and forth is weak. At the mention of involving the acolytes, Abel’s bluster takes a big hit and his lips scrunch up. It’s the final straw for the two team leaders he’s trying to reel in and they break free of his line, eyes glued to the ground as they skulk away with the forced nonchalance of a cheating husband greeting his secret mistress on a night out with his wife.

Oh no, a few of the already converted are starting to show doubts. They’re shuffling their feet and exchanging whispers. Everyone is focused on Abel and he tries to calm them down with a few harsh whispers, mixes of encouragement and beratement for being intimidated by two ‘girls’, heh.

Alana takes the chance to hammer the nail in deeper. “If being discovered makes you all uncomfortable, then you should think carefully about if you should be doing it. Failing may be sad but you can always try again. Cheaters and scoundrels? They’ll never let you step foot on the Hall again. Your reputations will be destroyed. Think while you have the chance. Regrets too often come too late.”

Her moving words have a few more shuffling their feet and looking askance. If Abel was angry before, he’s homicidal now. He looks like he wants to smack my friend into silence. However, everyone here knows how that will end. In the tried and true method of the nobles he admires, Abel shifts the blames, whirling on the nervous boy, “Michael! Send these wenches on their way so we can be done with this farce!”

The boy couldn’t look more panicked if someone threw a monster at his face. The air is tense as every eye turns to him. Many annoyed, obviously blaming him for drawing us to their meeting. Abel is one of them, but above all, his glare is expectant, silently telling Michael to get on with it.

The boy caves against the combined displeasure, curling into himself like a beaten dog as he answers us in a stuttering voice.

“As he s—said, I already have a team. T—thank you for the offer but I am afraid I have to decline.” He swallows carefully, looking up several times to see if we are responding to his choice negatively.

Alana does the exact opposite of course. “I see. A shame. Then we will leave you all to your…preparations.”

“Yes, you should hurry,” Abel snaps. “It will take quite the effort to find anyone willing to partner with her.” He sneers at me before decisively turning away. Michael sends us one more look before moving closer to the group, doubling down on his decision.

Gabriel follows, but he looks over to us. I wave at his polite nod.

“Well,” I say, leading Alana away with a hand on her shoulder. “You have been well and truly rejected.”

“Don’t you mean we have been rejected?” she counters, side-eyeing me. “You were standing there too. And I’m sure most of their problems were with you, degenerate.”

“My reputation proceeds me,” I say proudly. “But I think their problem was more with the fact that we weren’t willing to sink to their level. Forgive me if I’m insulting your friend but I don’t think the brothers are much of a loss.”

“Shiny’s right,” Marthe adds. “He’s good but we don’t need them. I wouldn’t trust a rat to watch my brat, hmph. I’d rather have no teammate at all than carry around deadweight.”

“The qualifiers can be anything,” Alana muses. “Michael may not be a fighter but the water affinity is incredibly versatile. Gabriel may not have the same level of talent but he keeps his brother focused. We don’t need fighters.”

“Heh.” I grin and pull her closer. “Thanks.”

“What? What are you thanking me for? I didn’t say anything about you.”

“You clearly just said that you depend on me.” We don’t need any fighters, is it? She can only say something like that because she trusts my strength, right? I swear, this girl’s tongue is dangerous, seducing poor women without her any the wiser. “Don’t worry. With me here, these qualifiers will be easy.”

She scoffs and turns away. “I could have been speaking about Marthe.”

“We both know you weren’t.” I turn to our third. “Speaking of, what can you do?” I didn’t question Alana’s choice in teammates because I’m fairly confident in my ability to handle everything. However, that’s if it comes to confrontations. These qualifiers really can be anything. Still confident, but it couldn’t hurt to ask a few more questions.

Abel was right about one thing, as much as it annoys me to give him any ‘victory’. As questionable as his ‘strategy’ is, he is quite determined to and I am treating this as a joke. With the difference in our abilities and goals, our different approaches are only natural, but maybe I can take this a bit more seriously.

If for no other reason than the fact that Kierra will never let me live it down should I fail.

Marthe huffs. “The same thing you can do, shiny. Throw fire them until they stop moving.”

That is far less than what I can do.

“Don’t listen to her,” Alana says. “She has an impressive level of control in her spells, especially for a fire caster. If you hadn’t noticed, she’s using a spell to keep warm despite that ridiculous attire.”

“Hmph. You’re ridiculous. I don’t like being smothered.”

“Really?” I say, reaching out a hand. She backpedals but I’m far faster. My hand pauses before touching her as I encounter warm air. “Huh. Okay, that’s impressive.” Most fire casters don’t bother to learn control, preferring power over finesse. After all, our prime role in the kingdom is exterminating threats. What’s a bit of warm breeze going to do to a monster?

“I don’t need your praise!” she growls.

“No need to be embarrassed,” I say nonchalantly, ignoring her tone. I hear her heart thumping. Weak to praise, huh?

Alana hums in thought, ignoring the two of us. “Our team is strong but we need diversity. There’s no telling what these objectives will be. I would like two other affinities. One other, at the very least.”

“Any other likely candidates?” I ask.

“Those I would suggest appear to already have teams.”

“Marthe?”

She scoffs, turning her head away. No surprise there.

“Alright. Looks like it’s down to me.”