Magic class was by far Rowan’s favourite of the five he was taking, and Professor Typhandrios was a huge part of that. The laid back professor was both extremely knowledgeable, and very experienced, having adventured extensively across the continent in his younger days. Though from the noises the girls made whenever he entered, those days were apparently not over just yet.

Focusing on the mana within him, Rowan willed it into the shape of the formation on the blackboard in front of them, forcing the mana to obey as he bent it to form a long triangle with an opening at the bottom.

Today marked the first day of the new unit, and Rowan could not be more excited. Following the midterms, Typh had wrapped up the first part of the course, which had focused on mana control and the basics of spellcasting. Today they began what Rowan and most other commonfolk considered the mark of a true mage: combat magic.

While there were a variety of jobs for mages in society, from healers and surveyors to those responsible for maintaining the magic that powered various public works, such spellcasters were not seen as true mages in the eyes of commoners. Rather, they were most often viewed as skilled labourers, using their magical expertise to perform jobs akin to a carpenter or a herbalist.

True mages were those that wielded their arcane power in dazzling and incredible ways: fighting back enemy forces, producing food from nothingness, and other much more visually impressive tasks than the ones a mage responsible for maintaining the city’s pipe infrastructure could perform.

After two months of learning how to wield magic, Rowan had to admit that, on closer analysis, it was a pretty stupid way to delineate who were mages and who were not. But that did little to temper his excitement as he crafted the arcane formation inside his ring, keeping his hand aimed at a small wooden dummy in front of him.

Six such dummies were positioned around the room, with four or five students standing in front of each, all concentrating as they poured mana into their foci. Off in the corner, the more experienced casters had all cast the spell a few times each, their dummy showing marks where the bolts of arcane had struck it.

Casting a glance to where Morgana stood, her expression bored as she casually cast a bolt of violet light at the dummy, Rowan suppressed a sudden twinge of jealousy. He would catch up eventually, but that meant focusing on his own abilities, rather than those of others.

After ten minutes of finagling with the mana, Rowan sighed in relief, a weary smile upon his face as he pointed his ring at the dummy. With a flash, a shaky bolt of violet emerged, traversing the distance between him and the target before splashing weakly over the wooden dummy.

“Well done,” Typh praised from behind him, causing Rowan to nod. A month ago he would’ve jumped upon hearing Typh’s voice like that, the man was entirely too light on his feet for a mage. But now he took it in stride.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Next time, try to sharpen the tip of the formation, and lengthen the sides a little. That should help to give it a bit more speed and power,” Typh advised, before moving on to Droon Glynsen, standing to Rowan’s left.

Taking Typh’s advice to heart, Rowan began the process anew, doing his best to implement the changes Typh had recommended as he struggled to control the mana.

Twenty minutes later, Typh called the class to a close, whisking the dummies back into nothingness as they gathered their books from their desks. Rowan had managed to cast the arcane bolt three more times after the first, each time making minor improvements to the spell. While it was hard to call it an actual combat spell, given that he doubted it would hurt even the most minor of dungeon denizens, Rowan was proud of himself for the progress he had exhibited.

Not everyone had been able to cast the spell, and even among those who had, Rowan’s performance was definitely in the upper half, provided you excluded the experienced casters such as Morgana and Tianna of course.

Pleased with himself, Rowan left the classroom in high spirits. Although the day had not started off so well, things were definitely looking up.

When he arrived back at the dormitory, Rowan’s eyes were drawn to the notice board on the far wall. The crowd around it from this morning had disappeared, and after a second’s hesitation, Rowan approached the board. Although he did not plan to sign up for tryouts, it wouldn’t hurt to find out what this dungeoneering thing was all about, he reasoned.

Dead centre on the billboard was a poster, depicting a stylized warrior, sword raised against a monster on the other side of the parchment. Emblazoned at the top was the word: DUNGEONEERING in bold letters. Clearly this was it, Rowan thought as he stopped in front of the board.

Dungeoneering Team Tryouts!

Do you want to win Glory for your house?

Want to hone your skills as an adventurer?

Eager to prove yourself against the best

the academy has to offer?

Come try out for the

Draigwyn Dungeoneering Team!

We’re looking for Slayers, a Vanguard, a Healer

an Archaeologist, and a Dungeon Master

All current members will defend their positions

This Saturday at noon on the West lawn

- Captain Verking Faenor

Eyes skimming the poster, Rowan nodded to himself. It appeared to be a team sport, based around the basic dungeon roles. The only role he didn’t recognize was the Dungeon Master. Back in Taureen, those that called themselves that were usually women whose entire wardrobes seemed to consist of black and red leathers. Usually nobles were the patrons at such establishments though, not the employees.

Shaking his head, Rowan forced the image of his classmates dressed like Madam Bedyouin out of his mind. Although he didn’t know how exactly the sport worked, it was pretty obvious that it was meant as a way to show off the most powerful parties from each house. Whether that was for advertising their strength, bragging rights, or other reasons known only to the enigmatic beings known as nobles, he wasn’t sure.

“Imagine being part of the team,” a voice that Rowan recognized sounded from behind him. Turning, Rowan glanced at Droon, the pale boy that had stood beside him today in magic class.

He was looking at the poster with rapt attention, his hands balled into fists as he stared at the words upon it. “Everyone would look up to you; you’d get recognized by people from other houses. I’ve heard that even professors admire students that can make the team.”

“Mmmmh,” Rowan said noncommittally, instantly going on guard as he saw who it was. He had spent the last two months doing his best to avoid the boy, despite the other’s best efforts to grow closer to him, and he didn’t intend to stop now. To Rowan, Droon was the most dangerous student in the entire house, more so than Tianna, Feinne, or even Morgana.

While Tianna was strong willed and could be a bit of a bitch sometimes, she was manageable so long as one either cozied up to her or stayed out of her way. Morgana was worse as she lashed out at everyone, but only if they came near or tried to interact with her. Droon, however, was different.

The only other scholarship student in Draigwyn, Droon was a commoner, just like Rowan. Worse, he was a commoner who had made it into the academy based on his score in the Test of Knowledge. A certified genius, Droon’s smarts had enabled him to make it in, despite his poor performance in combat related fields.

To Rowan, this was the worst combination. While he could fool nobles by pretending that his quirks were a result of his commoner background, Droon was different, and his intelligence and knowledge of other cultures meant that it was difficult for Rowan to pass off the traits he’d gained as a street rat as the result of growing up in Taureen.

“Are you planning to try out?” Droon asked, turning to Rowan as he finished staring at the sheet. A quill dangled from the bottom of it, swinging tantalizingly as if to entice them into adding their names to the list beside it.

“Wasn’t planning to, no,” Rowan replied.

Droon appeared surprised to learn this, his eyes widening slightly behind the thin frame of his glasses. His hair was meticulously styled today, as always, combed to perfection without a strand out of place. “But you’re the only first year from our house that’s been entering dungeons! I thought you were doing so to get some practice in.”

“Nope, just need the money,” said Rowan. Droon offered him an understanding nod at this, clearly empathizing with his fellow commoner’s financial woes. “Anyways,” Rowan continued, “I was just about to head up. Feel free to sign up for it though. Represent us scholarship students.”

“I will,” Droon promised, a twinkle in his eye as he glanced back at the sheet. From his body language, it was plain to see just how much the idea of making the team meant to him. Although Rowan doubted he would make it, there was no harm in offering him some encouragement.

Bidding Droon goodbye, Rowan headed upstairs. A lot had happened today, and the early morning combat class combined with the mental exertion in today’s magic class had left him exhausted. However, as much as he wanted to simply slip under the covers and sleep, the memory of his history test and the looming threat of his magical theory test forced him to stay awake.

With a groan, Rowan took one last look at his bedsheets, so warm and welcoming, before pulling his books out as he began to study.