However, find something Rowan did not, and three days later he found himself wondering what it was that he had ever done before coming to Faebrook. Lying in his bed, Rowan tossed a dagger in the air, the blade flicking lazily upwards before stalling for a moment midair as gravity won its battle against it. Defeated, the blade spiraled down towards the bed, where Rowan caught it and repeated the process, bored out of his mind.

For the first time since he had arrived at the academy, he had free time, and Rowan was at a loss about how to deal with it. It felt like he had not gotten a moment’s rest since the day Darm and Tethis had dropped him off in front of the great hall, and now that he had that moment, its very existence mystified him.

Normally, he would be studying right now, preparing for classes and catching up on assignments that had piled up. But with no classes, and every teacher happily declining to assign homework over the winter break, he had nothing to do, and the remaining things that he had used to pack his schedule with during the semester had turned out to be far fewer in number than he had initially thought.

Training, studying, spending time with Dugan, and stuffing his face in the cafeteria, last semester those had been the four items that had comprised his agenda outside of attending classes and risking his life in dungeons. But there were only so many hours in a day that could be spent training, Dugan was gone to visit his family, and dinner was not due to be served for another two hours, which meant that Rowan now found himself alone and bored, oh so very bored.

Of course, he could study, and he had spent plenty of time doing so. But as it turned out, studying was boring too, and Rowan could only force himself to do so for so many hours a day before he found himself absorbing absolutely none of what he was reading. Today, after the fourth time finding himself at the bottom of the same page with no memory of any of its contents, Rowan had decided to take a break. And thus he threw his knife high.

“You’re going to hurt yourself doing that,” Droon’s voice drifted over from the other bed. Rowan’s only response was to toss the knife even higher, the blade nearly nicking the ceiling as it began its descent back down.

Droon was the only other of the Draigwyn first year boys to have remained at the academy, the others all having opted to return home to spend time with their families. Although Rowan had done his best to avoid his fellow commoner in an effort to keep his past hidden, Droon had been persistent in his efforts to get closer with him ever since the day of Rowan’s discussion with Verking.

Unable to drive Droon away without making it obvious that he had something to hide, Rowan had instead opted to roll with it, treating the boy as a friend rather than an enemy. After all, he did not need any more of those, and friends were hard to come by here at Faebrook.

With all that said, for what reason Droon had remained behind at the academy, Rowan did not know, but he didn’t mind the company, even if Droon could be insufferable at times.

“How did you get so good at that?” Droon asked, mesmerized as he watched Rowan expertly catch the dagger and send it skyward in one smooth motion.

“Practice,” Rowan responded, not taking his eyes off the knife above him. “Lots of practice.”

“And you’ve never hurt yourself?”

“Not while I was the one throwing them, and never badly enough to stop,” Rowan replied, and it was true. He had never drawn blood catching knives that he’d thrown, but he had lost plenty of it from deflecting knives thrown by others. Gang members didn’t care too much about what they threw at the urchins to make them get lost; knives, rocks, bottles, Rowan had been hit by them all, and his body bore the scars to prove it. Fortunately, he was pretty good at catching objects thrown at him, though not always by the blunt end.

Putting the thought out of his mind, Rowan tossed the knife upwards once more, his mind returning to the problem of his boredom. For the first few days of break, he had attempted to study. But three days in and he had already read and reread every book assigned to him by his professors, as well as a few they hadn’t.

Plus, truth be told, he needed an actual break from studying. Although he had not been aware of it during the semester, now that he was free of the influence of classes and homework, Rowan felt like a weight had been taken off his chest.

It was not as though he hated attending classes, he actually quite enjoyed it, having been denied the experience for most of his life. However, even metal would break if put under enough stress, and now that he had had a few days off, Rowan understood that he had been under a lot of stress.

Between the pressure to perform, the fact that he was so far behind everyone else, and the weekly dives into dens full of monsters and traps all aiming to kill him, Rowan supposed that it wasn’t really a surprise that he had been feeling a little overwhelmed. The only problem was that, now that he had the free time, he had no idea what to do with it.

With a frustrated sigh, he caught the knife, stowing it back inside his shirt as Droon looked on.

“Wake me up when it’s time for dinner.”

A short nap later and a much refreshed feeling Rowan found himself accompanied by Droon as they headed for the cafeteria, both eager to taste whatever it was the cooks had prepared for them tonight.

For the last three nights in a row, the kitchen workers had outdone themselves, providing meals even more delectable than usual for the students who had opted to remain at Faebrook. Given that lunch today had been amazing, Rowan was dying to know what was on the menu for dinner, a sentiment his stomach apparently agreed with as it let out a loud growl.

The cafeteria was decently full when they arrived, the tables packed with students from other houses who had remained at the academy. Although those of the Northern and Western houses lived close enough to make the trip home and back in the two and a half weeks of winter break, those who lived further away were not so lucky.

“It’s much quieter in here than it usually is,” Droon said happily, placing his plate on the table as he sat down.

“Mmmh,” Rowan offered noncommittally. While the tables for Draigwyn and Hafgufa were both nearly empty, the tables of the students from Turul were still half full, the empire not close enough for those who lived on its outer reaches to make it there and back during the break.

The tables for Lykia and Jangar were even more full, with practically no students from the Coalition of Beast Tribes or the Nuxiong Dynasty having chosen to go home. As a result, it was hard to really say that the noise level had dropped, given that nearly half the students at the academy were still present.

Nonetheless, dinner was a quiet affair, Droon’s awkwardness and Rowan’s reticence to speak making it difficult to keep a conversation going. Despite that, Droon never gave up, constantly broaching new topics, many of which went completely over Rowan’s head.

“I found out the other day that the Windian Empire used to have different bylaws based on the geographical area a race came from,” Droon said excitedly. “Even if two people were both humans and alike in all other regards, one could be held liable for crimes committed by his relatives, even in absentia, while the other would be totally innocent just because he was born in Valendia instead of Windia. Isn’t that crazy?”

Rowan blinked at him. The only crazy thing to him was how much Droon seemed to care about such strange trivia. Was this the reason he had been able to get in despite his purportedly terrible scores in the three other tests?

“Yup, that’s pretty crazy.” This appeared to be the correct thing to say, as Droon smiled broadly. Launching into an explanation of just what this had entailed for those unfortunate enough to live in the ancient Windian Empire.

Tuning out Droon, Rowan focused instead on his lunch: a large serving of assorted vegetables and meats mixed into a hearty stew that tasted delicious. All too soon, his spoon struck the bottom of the bowl, and he looked on sadly, lamenting the loss of the delectable stew.

“—what do you think?”

“What?”

Droon tilted his head. “I asked what you thought of what Professor Soreth taught us last week. Personally, I was surprised to learn that the state of mana in the air can be properly graphed with fractal dispersion. I knew that powerful mana radiated outwards from dungeons, but I didn’t realize it created distinguishable patterns that could allow us to deduce the level of the dungeon just through proper analysis even at large distances.”

Rowan shrugged. “It seems logical when you think about it. Mana disperses evenly through the air, which means that so long as the dungeon acts as a perfect focal point, without interference, an even distribution is expected. The fractal bit is interesting, but the useful part is still the ability to measure a dungeon’s level from afar.”

“Exactly!” Droon exclaimed excitedly. “I did some thinking, and theoretically, if there were to exist someone with a large enough mana pool to operate the scanning equipment at its maximum range for a prolonged period of time, they could discover new dungeons just by walking through the wilderness alone!”

“Except that you don’t need someone with a large mana pool if you have enough mages with average sized mana pools to take shifts using the scanner,” Rowan remarked dryly. “Which I’d imagine the empire and various kingdoms all have in spades.”

Droon’s face fell. “I didn’t think of that.”

“It’s still a good idea,” Rowan assured him. “Why do you want to discover new dungeons anyways?”

“The first finder fee,” Droon said forlornly. “It’s a law in the empire as well as up here in the north. Whoever is the first to find and capture a dungeon has their choice of the treasures within, without the government stepping in to take a cut. There are usually some pretty amazing treasures in dungeons that haven’t been opened in centuries, so you can make a lot of gold if you’re the first to capture a dungeon.”

“Huh…”

“But you’re right. My plan was stupid,” Droon said, visibly deflated after Rowan had pointed out the flaw in his plan. “Just like all my plans, good on paper, bad in reality.”

Uhhh… Rowan looked at Droon. Clearly the other boy had been more invested in this plan to find dungeons than Rowan had thought. Did Droon need money? The only reason Rowan could see that Droon would want to brave the uncharted wilderness of the north in an attempt to locate undiscovered dungeons would be to make tons of gold. Not an unreasonable desire for commoners such as themselves.

Unfortunately, it was not only the fact that a team of mages could replace the single mage with an enormous mana pool that Droon had suggested, a mage that Rowan felt sounded suspiciously like him. There was also the problem of the scanner.

From what Kanna had told him when he had asked during one of their study sessions, the scanners used to detect mana fluctuations in an area were by no means cheap. They were similar in essence to the orb that had been used for the Test of Potential; items that could absorb mana in the surrounding area and transform it through magical formulas and enchantments inscribed within.

In the scanner’s case, it absorbed the ambient mana and then changed colour based on the potency of the mana it absorbed. The stronger the colour, the greater the amount of surrounding mana in the area. Weak scanners could only scan an area of a few dozen metres across, but strong ones the likes that Droon was probably imagining had a detection radius that was several kilometres in width.

No magical items came cheap, and this was doubly true for scanners, the most powerful of which were apparently worth more than a small castle. Even if Droon’s plan had not had other holes in it, there was no way that he or Rowan would have been able to acquire such a valuable magical item. Not on their own at least.

While all that was well and good, what was not good was the fact that Droon looked like a child who had just dropped their candy, and Rowan still had a fair bit of dinner left on his plate that needed to be finished before he could make a break for it. Not wanting to spend the rest of the meal with Droon like this, Rowan fished for a topic that could be used to get his friend’s mind off the abrupt derailing of his plan.

“You got any plans for the break?” Rowan asked, changing the subject in an attempt to break the ice. Droon nodded enthusiastically, the awkwardness from earlier forgotten in an instant.

“I’ve been doing my best to get better at combat,” Droon said, “so that next tryouts I can hopefully make the team. Captain Verking told me that my fundamentals need work, so I’ve been practicing with the dummies for an hour each morning, and another hour every evening. Even if I can’t make it as an actual member, if I can be good enough to become a sub, that’s good enough for me.”

“Good luck,” Rowan replied, and he meant it.

It had been a few weeks now, but the Dungeoneering tryouts had come and went, and true to his word, Rowan had stayed away. Dugan had tried out, though just as Rowan had predicted, and much to his friend’s chagrin, he had not been successful.

In truth, Dugan had done far better than anyone had expected of a first year trying out for the team. But it had not been enough. As the house representing the region the academy was located in, making the Dungeoneering team as a member of House Hafgufa was apparently a bigger deal than most, to the point of being something nobles in the upper echelons of government still bragged about years later according to Dugan.

While Rowan was not sure if he quite believed his friend’s tall tale, the fact remained that the Hafgufa tryouts were well known to be the toughest in the school. Unfortunately, this meant that the competition level in Hafgufa’s tryouts were also the highest, and Dugan had been, in his own words, ‘utterly crushed’ by the powerful students in the upper years.

At least Dugan had seemed upbeat about it though, unlike Droon, who had wilted at the very mention of his own ill-fated attempt to join the Draigwyn Dungeoneering team. In a way, Rowan was actually glad that Droon had taken the initiative to bring it up, for he had been getting very sick of having to tiptoe around the topic whenever his fellow commoner was around.

“Thank you,” Droon said seriously. “Verking actually suggested I practice with you, as he knows you spend a lot of time training, but I told him I don’t want to bother anyone until I’m good enough to be considered an actual partner.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Rowan said off-handedly. “Not every day of course,” he said, hurriedly amending his previous statement as Droon’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement. “But once or twice a week would be fine. If you want to, that is.”

“Really?” Droon’s eyes were wide with excitement. “That’d be great! I’ve been hitting the dummies non-stop, but it hasn’t seemed to help in Combat class, so I was wondering what I was doing wrong. An actual sparring partner would be an immense help. Are you sure it’s not a hassle?”

I have a feeling it might be. Rowan thought. But it’s too late to back out now. “It’s no problem. I could use the sparring practice.”

“Great! I usually use the gym around nine, after most of the older students are done with it. Did you want to have a spar tonight? Or would another day work better for you?” A quill and notepad had materialized in Droon’s hand, and he held the quill close to the page, ready to jot down whatever answer Rowan provided.

“Sure, tonight sounds fine,” Rowan told him. Not like I have anything better to do.

The rest of their dinner went by smoothly, Droon eagerly laying out all of his many combat-related faults and the methods in which he had been addressing them to Rowan who sat there silently and nodded along, just glad to no longer be forced to carry the conversation all on his own.

From how Droon was describing his talents at fighting, it sounded like he was an absolutely terrible fighter, which meant it was doubtful Rowan would get any real training out of tonight’s spar. But anything to get him out of the dorm room for a few hours.