“Are you able to stand?” the administrator asked, her hand still outstretched towards him.

“I think so,” Rowan replied, taking her hand and climbing shakily to his feet. Although he felt slightly unsteady, he would be damned if he let anything lower the examiner’s opinions of him. His mind was still busy processing the fact that he had passed, his brain stuck in the mindset of proving himself to the examiners and getting into Faebrook, whatever means necessary.

Seeming to realize this, Kanna merely shook her head wryly. “You should be fine to head back up and rejoin the other applicants. Your mana is slowly returning to normal, so take it easy, and don’t do anything to strain your body until you feel normal again, got it?”

“Got it,” Rowan replied, secretly not getting it at all. How long would he have to wait to return to normal? Apart from using his mana, was there anything else he shouldn’t do? These questions and more burned in his mind. But, not wanting to reveal the extent of his ignorance to a potential benefactor, he merely affirmed that he had understood her words.

“Good, now go.”

With that, Kanna turned and re-entered the testing room, leaving Rowan alone in the stairwell. Shaking his head slightly, he began to make his way up the stairs, going slowly so as not to fall. His body still felt strange, a mixture of tiredness and giddiness that made keeping his balance difficult. Regardless of the reasons behind it, a sense of satisfaction filled him. He had done it. He had taken the first step on his new path. Regardless of the slight stumbles he had made in the various tests, he was now a student of Faebrook, at least according to the robed examiner.

Kanna Soreth. Rowan repeated the name in his head a few times, committing it to memory. From the way she had talked, she had taken an interest in him and was willing to help him discover his potential. Even if it was only a passing interest due to the flashy way in which he had passed her test, Rowan planned to take advantage. In his past life, he had allowed chances to fall by the wayside in order to play it safe. This time around he would seize them, and build upon his advantages to become better, to become stronger.

With that in mind, it would not do to forget the name of his potential benefactor. Kanna Soreth. Repeating the name one last time, Rowan arrived at the top of the stairway, pushing open the door and emerging into the classroom once more. Behind the door, three more applicants were waiting impatiently, clearly eager to get going with their final test.

As the bearded examiner noticed him, he nodded. “The next group may enter.”

Elbowing past Rowan, the three applicants passed through the door, the wooden frame creaking as it shut behind them. Ignoring their treatment of him, Rowan made for an empty bench, aware as he did of the piercing gaze that the instructor had fixed upon him. Clearly, the bearded man, Egil, Kanna had called him, was interested in knowing what had gone on below. Fortunately for Rowan, the presence of the other applicants prevented his interrogation, and so Egil was forced to settle with examining him from afar as the remaining applicants waited for their turn to be called.

Glancing around, Rowan could see that Egil was not the only one whose gaze was fixated upon him. Several other applicants were also sneaking glances at him, the aberration among them, trying to deduce why he had been late to emerge from the final test. There was one exception to this however. Morgana was not sneaking glances, but openly glaring at him, her expression one that Rowan could not quite place. Whatever emotion it was that the fae girl was feeling towards him, it was not a friendly one, that he was sure of.

With a sigh, Rowan leaned back, closing his eyes as he concentrated on recovering. His head had started to pound, a headache forming the likes of which he had not experienced since a guard had clapped him hard enough to send him halfway across the market for stealing a slice of meat.

Like that, another hour passed, the final applicants all finishing their tests. No other applicant emerged late like Rowan had, which left him feeling slightly proud of himself, or it would have if his head didn’t feel like it was caught in a vice. Massaging his temples, he followed Egil back to the great hall, trailing slightly as he concentrated on not faceplanting into the smooth stones below.

It was a subdued procession of applicants that entered the hall as compared to the atmosphere of nervous excitement that had surrounded them upon their departure scant few hours before. Many wore downcast expressions, clearly aware that their performance had not been enough to guarantee them a spot at the academy. Those that had excelled wore a mixture of expressions, excitement, contentedness, even boredom, as they milled around aimlessly, waiting for what came next.

“Welcome back,” a melodious voice told them as Lira Kess appeared from nothingness at the dais in front of them. “I hope you have all done your best in today’s tests. While we cannot accept everyone, it is better to fail after having done your utmost than to regret not having given your all when the time was upon you.”

With a wave of her hand, a trio of enormous scrolls unfurled behind her. Peering closely, Rowan could make out a column of names, beside which were four columns of numbers, presumably their scores on each of the tests. Waving her hand once more, Lira caused several of the names to light up, a golden glow emanating from the letters upon the scrolls. As Rowan hunted for his name, the headmistress gazed out at the applicants.

“Those whose names are shining, congratulations. You have passed the entrance exam, and can now officially enter Faebrook Academy, not as applicants, but as students. To the rest, work hard, and may your failure today be the motivation you need to succeed.”

Scanning the names, Rowan found his at last, shining brightly near the bottom of the third and final scroll. Beside it, his scores were also shining, though far more subduedly than his name. His scores were roughly what he had expected. Failing marks in both the Tests of Knowledge and Combat, while his score on the Test of Skill had been quite high, ninety-three marks out of a hundred and twenty-five.

His final score, however, blew the rest of his scores out of the water. A perfect one hundred and twenty-five on one hundred and twenty-five points. Not only had he excelled in the Test of Potential, but he had done better than anyone else. Checking the other applicants scores quickly, Rowan could not see a single applicant who had come anywhere close to replicating his feat. The nearest two were Morgana and Enkhchuluun, a name that Rowan did not recognize, who had both scored just above a hundred points, scores they had replicated on the other three tests.

Even factoring in the other tests, no one had come close to a perfect score, the best performers having scored marks a good ten points below both Morgana and Enkhchuluun. Whether or not anyone else from the other batches this year had managed the same, Rowan could not say, but one thing was for certain; his score today was truly unsurpassed, at least among this group of applicants.

I guess that answers the question of what counts as exceptional, Rowan thought as he stared at his name. He had done it, he had been accepted into Faebrook, and with a perfect score no less. Restraining the urge to let out a cheer, Rowan instead clenched his fist in celebration. He had surpassed the biggest obstacle between him and his new life, but he couldn’t relax. Despite his score on the Test of Potential, it was obvious even to him that his performance there had been entirely based on luck. If his mana pool had been regular-sized, then given his scores on the Tests of Knowledge and Combat, he would have probably failed. Now that he had been accepted, he would need to work hard in order to bring up all his skills to the level expected by Faebrook, lest they decide that his large mana pool was not a sufficient reason to keep him around.

Rowan smiled broadly. Even the prospect of hard work was not so bad when it meant furthering his goals. Despite the name, street rats were often like cats, lazing around for much of the day as they saved their energy for the hunt, their prey being fat merchants, drunks, and other easy marks of society that could be relied on to yield some coin, food, or booze. Legitimate work was hard to come by as an urchin, and not something to be relied upon, for no one hired riff-raff for too long. Even those that did were often not legitimate businessmen, but criminals, looking for those who could be relied upon to keep quiet, and those who would not be missed should something go wrong.

Work was not a foreign concept to Rowan, but it had never been something he had looked forward to. Even with legitimate employers, harsh treatment was not an expectation when working as an urchin, but a guarantee, and the few days each year that he had managed to get some work had been universally terrible experiences. Faebrook, however, would be different. He could feel it.