Micah wrote five more practice exams yesterday, following Mave’s structure for them, and studied late into the night, despite Ryan’s insistence on getting a full night’s sleep. Sleep was for the adequately prepared, and Micah was not. Unfortunately, the written application exam was nothing like the physical aptitude test.

Every classroom was a little different in Westhill, he knew, and every district was a lot different. The Five Cities didn’t even have a universal education system. So with the Climber’s School being new with no previous entrance exams, nobody knew what its structure would be like. Applicants prepared themselves for anything to come using the requirement lists the Guild offered.

That, in part, explained the uneasy silence in the vast gymnasium Micah found himself in, despite there being easily two-hundred people seated at individual desks throughout the space.

Micah felt it himself in the tension in his chest, the lump in his throat, the trembling of his limbs. Thankfully, he didn’t have to stand or speak today. Possible interviews were in two weeks after the tests were over. He had no idea what he would do if he got that far.

All around him, other applicants looked much the same. They sat at their desks with nothing but a few writing tools, single bottles of water, a participant number slip, and of course, the envelope with the exam. The answer to their fears.

Micah was applicant #2425. He liked that number. He repeated it to himself in his head because its two parts were sequential. But it also told him there were at least two thousand four hundred and twenty-four other applicants he was testing himself against. Then, he suddenly didn’t like the number so much anymore.

A flat ninety. He liked that number more. It was the best and last score he had gotten on a practice exam yesterday. And even Mave had nodded in appreciation after handing it back.

If Micah could just reproduce that result today, all would be well. Ninety was a good number. Not the best number. It stood for ninety percent, though the tests would probably be graded by points as well as a percentage. A hundred was the best number. But surely ninety would be enough to do … something?

Micah had been “above average” on the physical exam, he knew. Or at least, so Ryan had told him. If he got a ninety now, performed well during the observed duration in the Tower, and maybe handed in another, better Proof Of paper by Tuesday in a week … maybe that would be enough.

Enough for something.

He tried to focus on that while he waited, as well as other numbers he knew. Historical ones. Names and dates. And while he did, Micah looked around at the sea of strangers. He couldn’t find anyone he knew for support, though there were some that seemed familiar. Some had hung out with Anne yesterday. Others, he had seen around before.

He wondered how many of them he would see again.

Ryan and Lisa were in a different hall than Micah, one of many. Apparently, this had been an old training facility for the military, which Ameryth had torn down and renovated to serve as a classic school gymnasium. Their dorms were also supposed to be the old barracks the church’s Tower guards had lived in. Did that mean they would be fancy or bare? Micah didn’t remember and immediately worried he would get those kinds of questions during the history section.

He tried glancing around to distract himself. There were nets and ropes on the ceiling, ladders near the walls, mats, and gates to storage spaces that hid even more equipment. It sure looked fancy. But then again, Micah had only ever been in two gymnasia before. He liked this one. It seemed … new. The ground reflected light from windows high in the walls. It looked untouched, clean. Apparently, for over a year now.

Rumour—or rather, Lisa and Garen—had it Ameryth had funded most of the renovations and school equipment herself, out of her own pocket ages ago. The city wouldn’t have even considered her proposition without proof of concept, after all, even if she had permission to renovate the old church facilities.

Well, here was proof. Micah was in the wall of the Tower. Or at least, in a structure connected to it. That was mind-boggling.

Hopefully, I’ll make it in. Hopefully, I’ll make it in. Hopefully, I’ll make it in.

He started fidgeting.

Around him, others were getting restless as well. More restless. The test should have started five minutes ago. But there was yet another delay, like there had been countless of yesterday.

Micah looked ahead to where the testers had gathered in front of a small stage and wondered what was taking them so long.

Then a red woman who wore nothing red walked in through the doors at the front. She spoke to one of the other adults in a somewhat excited manner, smiled, and hopped up to sit on the edge of the stage, swinging her legs as one as she looked over the crowd. After a quick once-over, she leaned forward to rest her chin on the palm of a half-fist and grinned proudly.

To her, this must have been a dream-come-true.

The entire crowd was staring back at Ameryth, their maybe future principal, and felt terror. Had she chosen this hall to observe during the test? Like they weren’t under enough pressure already.

Belatedly, Micah realized the man she had spoken to was actually saying something to one of his colleagues, who then went to shut the doors.

He glanced at a few empty seats he had noticed earlier, but apparently, their applicants were too late. And guessing by the closed doors—and the information papers confirming it—they wouldn’t be allowed to enter anymore.

Micah briefly felt sorry for them, until he reminded himself that it meant there was less competition. Then he felt ashamed he’d thought that, until he reminded himself everyone probably thought that way.

The man at the front spoke and his voice traveled easily throughout the hall. He told them his name, though Micah forgot it the moment he did, and that he was from the Registry, that in a few moments, the test would begin, but he would instruct them first so they should pay attention.

When he told them to start, they were to write down their names and participant numbers on their sheets of paper first and foremost, as well as at least their name on every other paper they handed in.

He cautioned them that any attempts at subterfuge would be noticed without exception and result in immediate failure—and already had resulted in failures, as some applicants had thought they could get away with taking performance-enhancing alchemicals before taking the test.

Micah felt a cold sweat go down his spine then, though he had no reason to be afraid. He hadn’t even thought of doing that, but now that he did, he had to admit, it might have seemed like a good idea to him yesterday. Thankfully, he had been so distracted with panicked cramming, he hadn’t even thought of cheating.

The man let that sink in for a moment: people had failed already. Some glanced at the empty seats and wondered.

Then he went on to say that they had three and a half hours to finish the test and that it was structured into seven unequal parts, each with various subsections. Any multiple choice questions—YES! Micah’s mind screamed; there would be multiple choice questions—would have to be answered with one option and one option only.

They were supposed to write properly and orderly so it would be readable. Mistakes in spelling and grammar could lead to a deduction of up to the equal to the equivalent of two grade points, or roughly ten percent of the grade, if those requirements weren’t met.

Micah worried if his handwriting was readable. He thought so. He hoped so.

Then he told them a few more tips, “Read the questions thoroughly before you answer, consider skipping questions you do not know so you can answer them later, check how many points each question will offer and use your judgment to allocate the appropriate amount of time and effort into answering it ...”

Micah had heard those tips from Ryan so often in the last few days, he knew them by heart.

Then the man simply said, “Begin.”

Micah needed a moment to catch on. Then he began.

… and almost forgot to write his name on the top. He thought he heard a chuckle from the stage, but didn’t glance up to see for himself. Who the hell would make a sound right now?

The first topic was a simple reading one. Micah was given a text excerpt from some book he didn’t recognize. It was about a young woman in the year 74 going through her daily life, which was basically the same as today except she had to pray or make offerings every few hours. She knew she had to soon choose between different Paths, one of which was their family’s Path.

Micah then had to answer multiple choice questions about the text, its underlying themes, historical context, and the Paths mentioned. Though the task was simple enough, Micah still read the text twice, skimmed it a third time, and went through all options three times before he chose his first answer. Belatedly, he realized he was wasting time. He’d known the answer right away. For the rest, he tried to hurry up.

He might be able to come back later.

The second subsection wasn’t much harder. Micah had to explain various grammatical and literary terms, analyze the structure of sentences, and conjugate some words. That was just simple repetition, in his mind.

When he got to the next topic, he felt like he was on a roll as most of the questions had to do with Skills, he saw at a first glance, and the first one was almost perfect for him:

“List all Skill types which deal with the handling of knives and their use inside the Tower. Give one example Skill for each. In one or two sentences, explain their functions and potential uses inside the Tower.”

Micah knew that!

As he wrote down Proficiency Skills, Action Skills, Enhancement Skills, Equipment Skills, Guidance Skills, and Spells, and listed an example for each, Micah found himself almost humming. Of course, he did not hum. This was an entrance exam. But he did it a little on the inside.

Then he saw the next question and his humming stopped.

It was basically the same question, but a little more complicated. Instead of asking the same of something other than knives, it had another requirement added on:

“Give three examples for modern weaponization of mana-interactive materials found inside the Tower.

Name the materials used for each and in one sentence, give one example for their benefits.

Pick one weapon and list all Skill types which deal with the handling of it and its uses inside the Tower. Give one example …”

Micah just … didn’t recognize the question. Mana-interactive materials? he wondered. Like mage staffs, wands, mana rings, and stuff? Didn’t all trees grown in the Tower conduct mana for spellscripts?

Micah’s excitement became pure anxiety again and he skipped the question for now. He would have to guess, and guessing took time. Better to focus on something else. But as he marked the question down, he saw it was worth more than half again as many points as the question before it.

That was so unfair.

When Micah moved onto the next question—another multiple choice one—he found himself guessing after all. It wasn’t just that the previous question had thrown him off his game, though it had, he didn’t know some things.

He tried his best, of course, and guessed where he needed to, but … he wasn’t so sure he would get above ninety percent on this test. So when Micah got to the next section and found himself, of all things, relieved, he suddenly wondered, Who the hell am I and why am I relieved at the sight of math?

But the biggest problem with math for him was understanding what the problem was even asking of him. As soon as he figured out which formulas he had to use, Micah could blindly apply them and work out the numbers on a spare sheet the envelope offered.

You don’t have to understand it, you only need to be able to follow the right steps, Ryan had told him. And Micah had practiced that often enough, he could do it now. He thought he got it all right, unless he misunderstood a question or made a miscalculation in his notes, but for now, that was good enough.

He would, of course, also have to hand his notes in, so he felt a little uncomfortable about how messy they were.

Around him, testers were walking through the rows with more sheets in hand in case anyone needed them. But whenever one passed by him, Micah just felt irrationally uncomfortable.

Eventually, he got to the last section of the test, the two additional questions he’d have to answer since he was applying to skip grades, and saw he had a little more than an hour left. Since he had skipped two questions already, that meant he could only devote about twenty minutes to each one. Less, actually.

But principally speaking, these last two questions were supposed to be easier, since they were questions about the next-to-last year of classroom. And as Micah glanced over them, he found they were easy.

Frighteningly easy.

One of them was a freaking shopping list problem.

It was one of the ones he had grown up with a small child, and Micah stared at it for a few seconds, wondering if he had the wrong test. Those were for children who were still learning their currencies. Just how young were some of the applicants?

Micah kept an eye out for any complications, but it was only:

“You have been given a list of wares to buy by your parents and have added two items yourself, depicted below (image-11.1). You have two copper coin, four copper pennies, five iron coins, and twenty iron pennies for this task. The market has six vendors, each of whom offers different wares.

Devise a plan of action to acquire everything on the shopping list, show your work, and explain your thought process. Your primary objective is acquiring everything your parents instructed you to buy. Your secondary objective is spending as little as possible. Your tertiary objective is getting the two items you added to the list yourself.

The first shopkeeper is called Margaret. She is a stern lady who does not accept iron pennies. Below is her list of goods (image-11.2) ...”

Micah went the list down in confusion, but it was a simple question of finding the cheapest goods at each stall and paying for them, even if the text gave ridiculous descriptions for each vendor, like: “The second shopkeeper is called Markus. He hands out sweets to children with each purchase. Here is his list of goods …”

Or: “The third shopkeeper is called Trilda. She is a nice, old lady with a soft heart for children. Her granddaughter works at the bank and lets her exchange iron pennies without a fee. But shh, don’t tell anyone. Here is her list of goods …”

What the hell? It wasn’t nearly on the same level as Micah’s other math questions. Maybe Ameryth didn’t know what kind of problems she was supposed to give younger students?

Either way, Micah answered it as quickly as he could. He wrote down the options and ran through a few different approaches. The main problem was getting the right kind of change or no change at all, because some vendors—Margaret, you crone—didn’t accept iron pennies, and others—Ben, you misguided fool—only gave them as change to spite her.

It did turn out to be a bit complicated, but not very much.

When he was done with it and another problem that was much less ridiculous, Micah went back to the questions he had skipped and answered them as best he could. He listed mage staffs, spellbooks, and crystals for the mana-interacting material problem, added two trees’ woods as materials at random and crystallized essence for the third, picked staffs for Skills and managed to write down everything he knew, even if one of the testers hovered behind him when he did. He wished they wouldn’t do that.

In the end, he thought his answer was good enough, but ...

The other question he just didn’t know—at all—and he despaired over it. It was about harvesting methods used in the Gardens, probably something that was common knowledge everywhere else in the city. And unfortunately, it wasn’t multiple choice. Micah still wrote down something, for the sake of it, but he knew it would be wrong. He was stabbing in the dark.

An entire question, practically unanswered. Micah looked at the points it would lose him and tried to stuff his frustration deep down—another tip Ryan had given him. He was thankful for it, or might have wasted even more time on the question, wracking his brain for any sort of answer.

Then Micah wanted to go over everything again to look for any mistakes he had made, but he barely got through two of the questions he was worried about when the man at the stage called, “And time … is … up! Pens down.”

Just like that, the test was over. Micah glanced between the man and the nearest clock on the wall. It hadn’t felt like three and a half hours. It had felt like an eternity and a minute all at the same time. Micah frowned and wondered if the test was really over. Maybe—?

Some people, of course, tried to keep on writing something really quick. Micah watched in fright as one of the nearby testers walked up to one of them and repeated, “Pens down. The time is up. Continuing to write will result in failure.”

When they heard, all the stragglers suddenly stopped trying and Micah pushed his pen away. [Registrars] were a little creepy sometimes.

Then the man from the beginning gave them instructions again.

Micah glanced at the question he had left practically unanswered before he put everything in his folder and reluctantly closed it. It was a simple folder, but it felt like he was closing an iron gate. In his mind, he tried to recall the questions and his answers to gauge the result, but seeing the amount of guesses he had made …

It wasn’t going to be ninety. Not nearly ninety. But he didn’t think it would be far below eighty either. Or rather, he hoped. He had answered everything after all. And he knew that—unless he made a stupid mistake—more than half of the questions he’d answered were right. Reading, grammar, math, the final two questions, the dagger one, he’d even gotten the geography question right this time.

Seventy was the cutoff line for failure, but even then, you might not get in because of competition. But at nearly eighty percent, one entirely wrong answer or a cascading mistake in the math section would easily land Micah below.

He hoped he hadn’t made any.

One by one, they were called up to orderly hand in their tests and offer confirmation at one of the desks. Then they were herded through the opened doors and into the unfamiliar halls of what might one day be the outer edges of their school.

The moment he got rid of the brunt of the crowd, Micah slouched and wandered aimlessly while he thought about the test and caught his breath, but that was stupid. His own mind wouldn’t offer him any new answers. Then he rushed to find Ryan and Lisa.

“...so I solved the first equation to figure out an x equivalent ofy and set that into the second one so I only had x in one equation, then simply solved it,” Micah was telling them both twenty minutes later, only slightly out of breath. From the talking, not the speed walking. He’d stopped running when one adult had yelled at him that there was no running in the halls.

“And then I could also figure out y.”

They were walking down a random hallway deep in the Climber’s Guild Micah had never been in before. Every other step brought them past a closed door or small office with someone working in it. A thick carpet running down the middle of the hall muffled their steps. All sounds, actually, seemed muffled back here. The air, too, though there was no dust essence. It was like a maze, but Lisa seemed to know the way.

“And I wrote down each step at the side, tested it, and added a sentence explaining what I had found.”

“You probably didn’t have to write down a conclusion or test the result,” Ryan told him, speaking barely above a whisper. “But it’s good that you did. Better safe than sorry, after all. So math was alright, all in all?”

Micah nodded. He had told them about the rest of the exam already. Sadly, Lisa had pointed out two small mistakes he had made during the mana material question, but she said she doubted they would cost him any points, due to ambiguity and his answers being “technically right.”

Slowly, Micah was getting a better picture of where he stood. Somewhere close to eighty for now. Maybe even above eighty. He didn’t know. But it was better than most of his practice exams had been since Ryan and Lisa assured him the questions he was confident about had been right ... if he was remembering them correctly.

They couldn’t confirm everything for him, because apparently, there had been four slightly different variations of the same test and they all had different ones, but they could give him feedback on what he did remember.

And they had already talked about their results with each other while they waited on him, since Micah’s test went on half an hour longer than theirs. Unsurprisingly, Ryan had done well, though he didn’t say much more than that.

Surprisingly, Lisa had said she had done, “Eh.” And when Micah had asked what “Eh” meant, she said, “Around eight in ten maybe, maybe.”

That was the same number as he was currently guessing. Micah had almost missed a step and gave her an incredulous look.

Lisa had rolled her eyes. “When they told us messy handwriting can cost us up to ten percent of the grade, I tried to write slowly and properly, so in the end, I missed an entire question.”

So Lisa’s handwriting was messy then? Micah had … actually never seen her write anything before. How had he never noticed?

He was a little too distracted to think about that for more than a second, though. Instead, he told them about the ridiculous final question he had been given and the descriptions of each vendor.

“I mean, I know Ameryth is eccentric, but still,” he joked, “that was weird, right? I just solved the math in the notes, organized and copied the solution over to the main sheet, and summarized it in a small paragraph.”

Ryan didn’t answer him right away, but that didn’t have to be a bad sign. Sometimes, Ryan wasn’t very talkative. Sometimes, they spent hours doing separate things near one another. Now, after their written entrance exams, it would surely be an appropriate time for it, right?

… Right?

The guy glanced at Lisa and asked, “Uh, what exactly was the wording of the problem, Micah?”

“Huh? Uhm, something like ‘devise a plan to buy everything?’ I was supposed to focus primarily on getting everything for my ‘parents,’ and then on spending as little as possible, and then getting some stuff for myself. Why?”

Ryan suddenly looked uncomfortable and nodded a little. “Uh, it might not have been just a math question then, but rather, one asking you to show your line of thought in getting a task done.”

Show your work and explain your thought process. But Micah had written a conclusion paragraph?

“Forget that,” Lisa said. “It was a hypothetical mission statement masked as a simple shopping list problem. Probably because you want to skip grades.”

Micah did miss a step then and stopped walking entirely. “What?”

Ryan was rubbing his neck awkwardly. “You were probably supposed to suggest going to that nice lady to get your iron pennies changed into coins or something, maybe even mention contingencies. Something like, ‘if she accepts, I’ll do this and this, and if not, I’ll do that … and … that …’” He trailed off as he saw how horrified Micah looked.

Micah hadn’t done any of that. At all.

“Would that have saved you more money?”

He thought it over and … yes, if he could have changed the iron pennies he got from Ben at Trilda’s, then he could have gone to Markus and then—

But—

“What?” he asked again. “What kind of question is that? No way anyone would put that in a test. Not even …” He trailed off. No, that was exactly like the type of question he would expect Ameryth to put into her exams.

And the question’s description had basically told him it wasn’t a math problem. Micah had read it twice, the man had told them to read everything carefully in the beginning, and he’d still ignored it.

How could he have ignored it?

And if so, Micah had basically messed up another entire question. The mental gauge of his grade suddenly sunk even lower. Lower than eighty. Much lower. That … wasn’t good at all.

He kept an eye out for the potted plants that decorated the corners of the halls, because he suddenly felt like he might get sick.

“I’m sure they’ll still give you some points for effort,” Lisa told him and glanced at Ryan. “Right?”

“Right,” Ryan obviously lied.

Micah nodded a little and they kept on going.

When they reached the familiar hall of the Climber’s Guild, Ryan’s parents surprised them by showing up from one of the nearby couches alongside Gardener. They had been waiting for quite some time apparently, a little worried that they had missed each other or been at the wrong place.

Other parents in the distance were also greeting their children that popped out of different exits.

The three of them bombarded Ryan with questions about how it went. Gardener seemed surprisingly friendly with Ryan’s parents—were they friends?—and even talked a little with Lisa, asking her how her training was coming along. And though Ryan’s parents made an effort to rope him into the conversation, Micah was as quiet as he could be.

If he got no points for the harvest methods and shopping list problems, and if he had made any other mistakes in the other questions, even just spelling ones or a cascading miscalculation during any of the math problems …

Suddenly, Micah might not have to worry about the competition at all. He wouldn’t be a part of it.

On Thursday, the school would post the results for the first two tests publically in all Guild houses, to show whether or not people even had to bother with coming back for the third. Micah knew for a fact, the days until then would be torture.

The adults wanted to get lunch. They even invited Ryan’s friends along, but both declined. Lisa said she had to get home, and Micah that he didn’t want to impose. When his parents told him he wouldn’t be imposing, he answered that hedid want to impose on Lisa instead.

Lisa squinted at him, but agreed to hear him out.

Normally, Ryan would have insisted Micah come with to lunch. But Gardener was there and he didn’t really like Micah—even less now that he took up so much of his time—and Micah seemed a little distracted. Ryan’s parents didn’t seem to care either way, so Ryan had the sense that if he pressured him into coming, he would be the only one who wanted him to. Better he went to Lisa’s, then.

It had only been a polite invitation anyway.

They went to a small pub near the border of Westhill where Ryan told them about the tests so far. He was confident about the results, at least, and added that he wasn’t too worried about the tests for the other schools either, since those were supposed to be easier. Neither his parents nor Gardener were too interested, though. None of them wanted him to go to a school in Westhill after all, and the entrance exam for Nistar was two weeks away.

So then Gardener shared gossip about the mysterious third test, which was supposed to take place in the Tower next Saturday—it was looking like either Speedruns or Duels right now—and the three turned on him with awkward parental expressions on their faces.

“You prepared, bud?” his dad asked.

“I can fight anything below the fourth floor,” Ryan told them. “I only need to practice a little for specific exam types next week.”

“I’d say I could help you out with that,” Gardener said. “But you’re busy, huh? With Lisa and the other kid, I mean.”

“Uh, yeah …”

Gardener thought Ryan was wasting his time hanging out so much with Micah and Lisa and that they could always train together once he got to the school. Ryan usually let his instructor talk himself out. Gardener never pushed the issue beyond a sentence or two anyway. But now—

“What have you guys been up to anyway?” he asked. That was a first.

Ryan thought it over for a bit and told him about the Wolves’ Den, using the Archer method, which they all seemed to approve of, exploring the Fields, the treasure chest he had found; he basically went backward in the weeks until he suddenly remembered: he had totally forgotten to tell Gardener about his [Lesser Vitality] Skill.

… Ups?

Ryan was pretty sure he had told his parents though—they had seen his Proof Of paper, right?—but they seemed just as surprised as Gardener did when Ryan mentioned copying the Honey Ants.

“You got a Stat from your Path?” the man asked with a broad grin. He also had that twinkle in his eye, like he had already thought of something inappropriate to say about the Skill, but thankfully he didn’t. Instead, he turned to his mom and dad and said, “You see just how much potential your kid has?”

Potential? Ryan wondered. What potential? He had tried to copy the Honey Ants’ ability to heal others and got stuck with a Skill that mostly made it easier to get up in the morning. Wow. Great.

But Gardener went on and on, praising Ryan in front of his parents … almost as if he was trying to sell Ryan to his parents. He glanced at his mom and thought bitterly, They’re all already sold on someone else.

Ryan didn’t know how to feel about his future sibling. On the one hand, he felt excitement. Pure, unbridled excitement. The good kind. The kind that made him smile. But on the other hand …

Well, “hate” was a strong word. Ryan just couldn’t help but feel like he was being replaced. He was going off to school and so his parents were having another kid, as if Ryan were an aging dog that was about to die, so they got themselves a younger, cuter one that still ran around and played fetch with them, one that would make them happy.

And either way, he felt anxious. How the hell was he supposed to be a good big brother?

Guessing by their age difference, his sibling would probably even see him as a weird uncle figure growing up and not a sibling. And the only uncle Ryan had for reference was his mom’s brother, who always looked like he wanted to punch his dad. Not that he would. He wouldn’t win. Ryan could probably even take him.

But that wasn’t the kind of weird big-brother-uncle-figure Ryan wanted to be. Ryan didn't even know what kind of figure he wanted to be.

Maybe he could shower them with gifts? He would have to earn a lot of money to do that and too many gifts might spoil a child.

Maybe he could teach them cool stuff? Wait, no. Micah was right. Ryan’s parents were cool, so they would probably teach them anything they wanted to learn themselves. His dad had even given Ryan a knife for his birthday once. He had also offered him to try beer a few times, so Ryan couldn’t be the cool uncle either.

What could he do then? Teach them hunting? He didn’t even know how to do that. He would have to ask Micah to teach him first. Take them camping? His dad might as well come with. Maybe he could give them relics from the Tower? Was that even safe? Music? Ryan didn’t know how to play an instrument, but buying one might be a good gift. Sports? Again, his parents could teach them anything they wanted to know.

Homework? Ryan didn’t want to be the lame uncle.

What would his purpose be in his little sibling's life?

Ryan tried not to groan as he slipped down in his chair. He wanted to think of other things, but really, there was nothing in his life that wouldn’t make him feel frustrated right now. There was just bad and less bad stuff.

At least, the other two schools he was applying to didn’t have nearly as convoluted application processes. He could take it easy for their tests. But Ryan would have to take them soon enough. One of them tomorrow, and the other in two weeks.

He was glad none of them overlapped with the ones for the Guild. He was thankful schools often offered two different exam dates or he would have been screwed already.

“Looking at your first son, you’ve got a bright future ahead of you with the next one,” Gardener commented and the conversation shifted in an all-too-familiar direction.

His parents were, like always, talking about the baby now, and telling Gardener about how they didn’t know if they wanted to find out whether it would be a girl or a boy yet. Ryan still didn’t understand that decision and quickly tried to ignore the conversation.

“Well, then how am I supposed to buy the right present?” was the last thing he heard Gardener say. It reminded him, he still had to think of a present to buy himself. But instead, he focussed on the sounds he heard from the kitchen, far away from here.

Other schools.

Ryan tried to picture himself going to either of the other schools, and he got stuck deciphering Micah’s horrified expression from earlier. It meant he had failed the exam, right? He probably wasn't going to make it in the Climber’s Guild at all, despite all his hard work.

And if he didn’t, Ryan …

... Ryan was starting to maybe not want to go to Milfords for him?

It felt horrible to think that, but the simple truth was: most of Westhill sucked. If it wasn't his home or Lang's room, Ryan felt stuck wherever he went. And everyone was so opinionated. There was one way of doing things and one way only. Millfords was even worse because that was where they got those opinions reinforced after growing up with them at home.

Whenever Ryan imagined going there, he felt such a sense of unease it was almost a stomach ache. Spending two or maybe three years with a bunch of people he didn’t know or like? He would rather go somewhere else, somewhere new, someplace where things might be better ... like that school Lang was hellbent on going to in Nistar.

Ryan was starting to miss hanging out with him. And Sol, using his stomach like a pillow. And Finn, complaining about them lazing around. Even just other classmates whose name he didn’t know half the time, Ryan missed them. His time in the classroom was over and he had been so distracted by the entrance exams, he’d barely had time to say goodbye.

Now, the entrance exams were practically over and he regretted it.

It wasn’t like they would never see each other again, but still—if Ryan went to Nistar, he might not have to say goodbye at all. But if he went to Nistar, then he would have to say goodbye to Micah.

As he poked at his food and tried not to stab the plate, Ryan wondered if there was anything he could do. Any way to make the most of what he had. And slowly, he stopped rolling a pea around with his fork and blinked.

“Ryan?” someone was asking.

Micah was applying to a school of the Climber’s Guild to become a climber, the thing his parents hated with a passion, but he would be forced to go to Westhill if he didn’t make it in? Those were two opposite extremes. How did that make sense?

“Rye? Ryan? Hey, are you—”

Nistar ... Maybe if Ryan went right after lunch?

"Rye!"

“Huh?” Ryan sat up straight and looked around. Gardener and his parents were staring at him with amused expressions on their faces. Apparently, they had said something, but he’d missed it. “Sorry, I was just thinking about stuff. Uh, test stuff.”

Gardener smiled a little. “I was just asking; you mentioned earlier you’ve never seen a real wolf before, right, kid?”

“Uh, yes, sir?”

“Well, do you want to?”

“We arenot hunting Candletails,” Lisa said when Ryan stepped into the entrance area of the Chandler residence a few hours later. He could hear her voice clearly, thanks to his Skill, and he knew Mave could, too. So he shot the young man a frown, but he ignored him and sauntered off.

“I need to do something,” Micah insisted. “How else am I going to level up? If you guys won’t let me put myself into danger for [Fighter] levels, then I need to make more advanced potions for [Alchemist].”

Ryan took off his shoes and slowly made his way over, letting the conversation play out. Micah sounded frustrated. Were they in some kind of fight?

“That’s not true and you know it,” Lisa snapped. “Let me see that.” There was the sound of paper being shifted. A book?

“First of all,” Lisa said, “what kind of an idiot would make a mana regeneration potion out of a Candletail crystal? Wait, no. Don’t answer. I hope whoever this Hale guy is didn’t leave his stupidity to any descendants because this recipe is the biggest steaming pile of crap I have ever seen. Actually—”

A page was torn out and crumpled. Ryan stepped into the doorway in case things escalated, but they didn’t seem to notice him. Or maybe they just didn’t care.

Micah shouted “Lisa!” and reached over the table to grab it from her, but the Mage simply threw the paper ball back and it went up in flames.

Ryan had a hard time feeling sorry for a mana potion recipe that used crystallized mana as an ingredient—that was like using ice to make water, except the ice was worth double its weight in gold and the water worth a night’s rest in mana—but it still felt wrong to see a page torn out of a book and burnt so callously.

Plus, Micah stopped trying to reach for it then. He actually stopped moving entirely, took a breath, and mumbled, “That’s dirty.”

“Life’s unfair,” Lisa replied. “And with that in mind, second of all: We. Are. Not. Hunting. Unmade. Candletails. Now go back to meditating on that mana ring.” She pointed in the direction of his lap.

Ryan’s eyes shot down to Micah’s hand and sure enough, he was wearing a ring made of the dark stone on his left ring finger. Ryan was a little surprised Lisa had any which fit him. Or were their fingers similarly sized? He had actually wanted to ask Lisa if he could borrow one himself, since it might help him with figuring out his Path. Plus, she had like five of those things. Or was it four? She could spare one, right?

But when Lisa reminded him of it, Micah’s eyes flickered down in a rare expression of disgust.

“Try pushing some mana into it,” she said. “It’ll get you a Skill, I bet. Or at least, it’ll help you understand mana.”

“No,” Micah said. “I do not want to push something of myself into a weird, artificial void strapped to my finger. Thank you very much.”

Lisa groaned in frustration. “Ugh, it’s just mana, you blue-eyed freak.”

Ryan frowned. Micah was distinctly brown-eyed. Or maybe even amber. His eyes were kind of spongy, like something he would see in his astronomy textbook. But maybe "blue-eyed" was some kind of idiom? Lisa said strange things sometimes. Apparently, she came from somewhere near Trest.

Micah wore his stubborn expression instead of answering, so Lisa said, “Then I can’t help you.”

He sat back down, pouting.

The argument apparently over, Ryan cleared his throat. “You can’t ‘hunt’ Candletails anyway, right? They appear randomly, so you have to get lucky.”

“Ryan,” Micah greeted him, his expression both surprised and a little ashamed. Probably because he knew Ryan had seen the argument. “Uhm, how was lunch?”

“Baby talk,” Ryan summarized.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“You can hunt Candletails,” Lisa said with a scowl. “There’s even a profession behind it. You hire a [Scout] or a similar Class to run through the Tower all day, trying to keep an eye out for any candle flames burning out of place and kill the mouse hiding near them. It’s barbaric. And we’re not doing it.”

Ryan had a hard time seeing what was supposed to be barbaric about that. If there was an efficient way of hunting down crystallized mana for [Enchanters], wasn’t that a good thing?

He knew from his history books that the first few generations had been extremely wasteful with the stuff. That was probably where Micah’s now-late recipe had come from. Or the measurement system of mana, 1ct equalling one crystal. They always had the same amount, somehow.

But now, people knew their value and fought over the tiny camouflage mice’s crystals with tooth and nail. Even just 1ct of physical mana was enough to write a page in a spellbook.

Micah using one for a mana potion, even if it was a comparable high-grade one and might get him a level … Yeah, no, Ryan wouldn’t allow that either. Better he sold it to someone in need and bought other ingredients. Like more Saplings. Ryan was curious about what [Barkskin] felt like.

“Then I give up,” Micah said, and Ryan frowned while he climbed over the armrest of the couch to sit behind him.

Give up?

Micah took off the mana ring and slapped it on the table, saying, “I’m done trying to figure out mana, Lisa. Just tell me what the third ingredient is.”

Lisa looked surprised and glanced at Ryan, unsure.

He hesitated a moment before he shrugged. If Micah said he couldn’t figure it out, Ryan trusted his judgment. Micah was as stubborn as a mule when he really wanted something, so him giving up like this … It was honestly a little worrying.

“Okay, then ...” Lisa brought her legs up on the couch in front of her and frowned for a moment before she simply said, “It’s spirit.”

They both frowned back at her.

“Spirit?” Ryan asked carefully. Did she mean like spirits and Skills, Tower spirits, or spirit like…?

She must have seen their skepticism, because she shook her head and said, “I’m not talking about the mortal soul. That’s a whole different nut to crack. I’m talking about spirit. Like nature spirits. If grass, or trees, or even mud can develop a spirit, why not humans?”

“I mean, of course, we have spirits,” Ryan said. “There’s Skills—”

"Exactly!" Lisa interrupted him. She touched her nose and pointed at him, a very Gardener-like gesture. “I thought you would figure it out if you read more Skill lists in mage guides, Apples, but … it’s strange to me how you people have magic and don’t even wonder where it comes from. Or how you use it. You don't think you can influence magic with just your flesh, right? I mean, you can, but not much. You need spirit.”

Ryan knew a little bit about that. He just hadn’t thought spirit would be an … an ingredient in mana? How was that supposed to work? When a [Mage] cast a spell, were they using up their own spirit? What if their mana reached zero?

He wanted to ask. And he wanted to ask Lisa for proof or further reading material, but Micah spoke first, “So I need to … see my own spirit to get [Mana Sight]?”

Lisa shook her head again. “No. You don’t need to perceive the entire spirit. You only need to sort of … get a feel for it, or a glimpse, maybe even just acknowledge that it’s there. Many [Mages] get Skills that help them out with that. Most explore it through manipulating their own mana or casting spells, though. Mana rings can help, too.”

When she said that, Micah slowly reached out to fiddle with the ring again. He hadn’t made any discoveries yet, then.

Ryan asked, “But there is a way to perceive the entire spirit?”

Lisa had said it like it was some kind of a daunting task, but if there was an alternative method, it was worth knowing about.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Lisa said. “Tower People actually have a fascinating method of doing it. We learn to sense our own spirits externally instead of internally, which is just unnatural. It’s like taking your eyeball out to point it back at yourself. Oh, I actually have a book on the subject. Let me go get it.”

Lisa ran off before either of them could stop her. Not that they would have. Ryan wasn’t exactly interested in his own spirit—the thought of it actually scared him a little—but Micah was ambitious. If conventional means like mana rings or getting a mage Path weren’t an option, maybe something else could help?

It was worth a try.

He nudged the guy a little and asked, "Did you figure anything out yet?”

“I don’t know,” Micah mumbled. “I don’t— I mean … Maybe what Lisa says will help?”

Ryan smiled a little. “Right.”

She came back a moment later with a hardbound book and flipped it open to about a third way in, treating the pages like they were crumbs on a counter. Ryan didn't want to say anything, but she quickly found the right one anyway.

“Here,” she said. “It’s actually something advanced meditation classes attempt to teach in the second or third year of school, or thereabouts.”

Advanced meditation? Ryan didn’t like the sound of that. Micah was struggling enough with basic meditation exercises already. How was he supposed to make use of advanced ones? And guessing by his shoulders, he was thinking much the same.

“You’re supposed to meditate deeply on your Path," Lisa said, "and imagine it as if it were a physical location. Then you add a spiritual representation of yourself to interact with it.”

That sounded a lot like what people did normally when they meditated. Ryan could interact with some of his Skills a little bit, like walk around on Salamander scales … though he didn’t actually see himself when he did it. Was that the difference? Just imagining a body for yourself?

“This isn't actually your spirit, though,” she went on. “It’s more like a bare-bones simulacrum, or a … a ‘sensory avatar’, if you will.” She read the term off the page and frowned. “It might even be your mental spirit by the sound of it ...”

“Avatar?” Micah asked her.

She glanced at him. “A puppet.”

“Oh.”

“And you place that puppet outside your spirit, to observe it from afar.”

Outside? Ryan wondered. What did that mean?

Lisa answered his questions without having asked. “The book mentions a lot of different names for this method, based on the imagery it universally shares, like Moonway, Skywalk, Mortal Nimbus, or simply Innermost Path, as they believe it is your personal Path made manifest.”

Micah drew his knees up and hugged them. Something about the gesture sounded alarm bells at the back of Ryan’s mind, but they were quiet and far away. He was too busy listening. It wasn’t every day you got to hear about advanced meditation methods after all.

So Lisa read, “‘You imagine yourself on an argent walkway in a void dotted with colorful orbs in the distance, like painted stars. You are alone and reside in a form made of pure light. Then, if you simply manage to take a half-step back to turn around, you should be able to see—’”

Micah ran into the kitchen and threw up.

It was so sudden, they both needed a moment to react. Then Ryan jumped off the couch to run after him and found Micah huddled over the trash can on the floor, heaving.

“Micah, are you—”

He did it again, the sound cutting Ryan off.

“What’s wrong?” Lisa asked.

Ryan gave her a helpless glance and asked, “Have you been feeling sick?”

“I’m fine,” Micah said, gasping for breath. “I prob—”

He didn’t get any further.

After a moment of hesitation, Ryan knelt next to him and started rubbing his back. That was what you did when someone threw up, right? Rub their backs? At least, Micah didn’t have any hair to hold.

He didn’t seem to mind. Or maybe he was too distracted as he retched again.

Ryan tried not to look, or smell, or hear really, and kept on rubbing circles like he had seen his dad do when his mom got morning sickness. Ryan had always hated it when he himself had to throw up as a child, but he wasn’t a child anymore. And [Enhanced Senses] could go screw itself.

Lisa reached for something on the counter. “Here, have some napkins.”

“Thank you,” Micah mumbled.

Ryan held the pile for him, but turned to Lisa and asked her, “Can’t you help?”

She frowned at him. “How?”

“With, like, a potion or something?”

“What kind of potion would help with that?”

“I don’t know,” he demanded, “some kind of cure-all potion or a Potion of Lesser Constitution?” He had started to assume the Chandlers would have a solution to stuff like this.

But Lisa just shook her head. “We don’t have anything like that in the house. Maybe some medicines, but I don’t know— Just, do what you normally do when you catch a cold. Uhm, that’s fluids and rest, right?” She looked uncertain.

“I’m not sick!” Micah shouted, but his voice betrayed him. “I just ate something wrong or … or maybe it’s leftover jitters from after the test. It’s probably leftover jitters from after the test …”

He wiped his mouth off one last time and caught his breath before he threw the bundle in the trash. Then he slowly tied the bag.

“Don’t do that. What if you have to go again?” Lisa said, but Micah ignored her, stubborn.

When he stood up, Ryan almost helped him before Micah scowled and said, “Look, I’m fine. It’s over.”

Lisa looked doubtful.

Ryan felt the same. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he insisted and gulped.

“Maybe drink some water,” Lisa offered, so they poured him a glass and Micah washed out his mouth a few times, then his hands, before he finally drank any. And even then, he did so reluctantly.

Ryan didn’t know what else he could do.

“C’mon, let’s get you home,” he said. “Lisa’s right, you need soup and rest. You’ve been pushing yourself way too much lately.”

“I’m—”

“Not sick,” Ryan interrupted him. “Yeah, I know, but you might be soon, if you push yourself right after throwing up. So don’t.”

He didn’t know if it was true, but Micah seemed to believe him. And the logic seemed sound.

“You don’t want to catch anything a week before the final exam, do you?”

“...no.”

“Then go put on your shoes. I’ll get your stuff.”

He went into the sitting room and collected the few things Micah had apparently gone all the way to Westhill to fetch earlier, but paused when he noticed the book Lisa had read from lying on the couch. Carefully, Ryan picked it up and asked, “Hey, Lisa? Can I, uh, borrow this?”

“The book? Uhm, yeah, sure. Why not? The mana ring—No. Micah already asked and I told him, I need those for Sam. You’re welcome to try it on while you’re here, though.”

“Right. Still, thanks.”

Ryan would just have to find a different way to get a better sense of his own mana then. He had to head back to the smith’s soon anyway, maybe he could drop by a loot shop? And a carpenter. His climbing savings were probably about to go down the drain.

“I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can," he told her.

“Take your time with it,” she said. “And make sure Micah doesn't get sick, alright?”

Ryan gave her a bemused look for her concern and said goodbye. The last thing he heard when he stepped away from the Chandler house was Mave asking, “Hey, did someone— Damnit, Lisa. I told you I have dibs on Allison’s stash!”

At least, by the time they got back to Westhill, Micah seemed perfectly healthy again.