“I swear, my mother’s a wonderful person. You two will get along great.”

- Malko, the Deceiver

“Percy Allblythe?” the stern-looking woman asked as she stared down over the crook of her nose. Dressed in a swirling black cloak, she had coiffed raven hair tucked behind her ears, and her onyx eyes seemed to stare into his soul.

Allblythe? Silvaroth asked. That’s really your last name?

Percy nodded in response.

“Come with me,” the woman ordered, turning and striding away down the hall, the rhythmic clicking of her heeled boots swiftly fading as he stood there. Not wanting to be rude—or worse, forgotten—he swiftly chased after her.

“Excuse me, miss?” he called, running to catch up with her. “Where are we going?”

She smirked, but didn’t respond. She turned, marching down the steps two at a time, and then strode outside. Percy followed quietly. It was obvious he wouldn’t get anything out of this lady.

I say you should teach her to respect you! Silvaroth spoke up from Percy’s waist. Somehow, even though the dragon was in a box, he seemed to know everything that was going on and could talk to Percy as though he was standing right next to him.

The power of a dragon card, the boy supposed. Something, something, cosmic power, tiny living space, or so it went. Suffice to say, he ignored Silvaroth’s adage.

Percy passed the desk where the old man had been sitting, though he was now absent. Heading outside, he could see that many more students had gathered around the apple tree and were milling about, talking amongst themselves. He estimated roughly fifty other kids were gathered.

“Applicants!” the woman yelled, instantly silencing the crowd. “You’ve been selected from the group of students who successfully passed stage two because of your Monarchs, the speed at which you completed the stage, or your family’s magical history. Now we begin stage three, starting with those most adept mages, yourselves, and determining your placement as a student at the beginning of the school year.”

She approached a podium Percy was certain hadn’t been out here when he’d first arrived, grabbing a wooden basket from atop it and shaking it audibly.

“This is a list of your names. We’ll be drawing lots to determine your opponents, then dueling based on the random number we’ll assign to each of the pairs.”

Excited chatter broke out from the crowd as the students realized they’d soon be able to demonstrate their magics for their peers. Anxiety, too, ran rampant through the students who realized that this was a battle for their placement rank. Their status. To many of them, failing to perform well here would mean making their families look bad.

“Now, form into lines!” the woman demanded.

The students did as requested, fighting over who would be first in line. Percy could see Selena butting heads with another girl over who was the line leader. Kollum just shook his head as he stood behind the two.

In another line, Ethan and his two goons bullied their way to the front, cowing the boy who’d rightfully gotten there first and pushing him to fourth behind them. Ethan smirked, tipping his chin to the woman in black who simply rolled her eyes from behind the podium.

Once the lines were formed, though some were longer than others, the woman strolled up the rows, allowing each applicant to draw a paper from her basket. When Percy drew his, he could see that the order had already been assigned by the groups.

He’d drawn fifteen. A safe number. At least this way, he’d be able to watch others duel before he was up, and that meant he could study strategies and form a plan.

“Now, everyone, I want you to organize yourselves in numerical order. For those of you who got in here thanks to your parents’ money, this means that if you have the number one on your paper, you’ll be first. So those with the number one on their paper should stand near the front.” The woman spoke her last sentence slowly, emphasizing how she clearly held a dislike for what might’ve been called trust fund babies back in Percy’s world.

“Ahem,” a voice interjected. Over fifty pairs of eyes turned their gazes upon the source. A familiar bald man with a trimmed white beard stood on the porch at the front of the house as though he’d only just exited, his hands clasped behind his back. “Mrs. Balligan, I do hope you’ll pardon my brief interruption.”

The cold woman—Mrs. Balligan, apparently—looked shocked. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water before she finally regained her composure.

“H-headmaster Blask!” she said, a smile stretching across her face. It was simultaneously beautiful and unnatural, as though she’d needed to practice smiling. It didn’t come naturally. “What can I possibly do for you?”

Blask smiled, his a far kinder expression, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Percy Allblythe. I need to speak with him.”

Mrs. Balligan frowned. “But I was told he was to be added to the advanced placement roster?”

The headmaster nodded. “He is. But first, he and I need to have a little chat.”

Percy stepped forward. He was far less intimidated by the headmaster than the woman his presence seemed to fluster. The headmaster nodded at him, then spun round and strolled back inside. Percy hurried to follow.

“This way, Percy,” the headmaster called, heading down a side hall and into what seemed to be a makeshift office. Large windows rose from the floor to the ceiling, providing a perfect view of everything happening outside by the lone apple tree. A tall desk was placed in the middle of the room, two comfortable-looking plush chairs in front of it, an official high-backed chair behind it. The important chair. Bookshelves filled the walls, a few statues of monsters like dragons and kobolds acting as bookends. A couch was shoved against the corner of the room, seeming to barely fit between two shelves.

The boy stepped inside the office, looking around nervously. He wondered why the headmaster himself could possibly need to speak to him. He assumed that, if anything, it must’ve been because the man had previously referred to Percy as a “special case”, which had been further complicated by the old man who’d stated he was attending on a scholarship.

“Percy, do you know why I’ve asked you in?” the headmaster began, taking a seat in the high-backed chair behind his desk and gesturing to one of the seats opposite him.

Percy took that seat. “No,” he said, before remembering to add, “sir.”

Headmaster Blask grinned. “I see you’re taking well to our world’s manners and social mores. Perhaps there’s something to that.” He reached into a drawer on his desk and withdrew a small silver bell, ringing it. A servant entered the room a short time later with two porcelain cups on small matching dishes, depositing them on the desk and pouring some steaming tea.

“Wait,” Percy realized, ignoring the tea. “You said ‘our world’s’. You know I’m not from here?”

Blask raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you believe?” He sipped at his tea, seemingly unbothered by how hot it was, and sighed. “Ah, Matthias truly does make the best. Have some, Mr. Allblythe, you’ll enjoy it, I’m sure.”

Percy waved his hand dismissively. “In a bit, sure, thanks. But, if you know I’m not from here, does that mean you can help me get home?”

The headmaster stroked his beard for a moment, tilting his head back and forth as he considered Percy’s question. “Is that what you want?” he finally asked. “You want to go back to your orphanage with all the other boys in a world with dead magic?”

“Well, it’s my home!” Percy answered immediately. Then, he thought about it. Though the past day had been extremely draining, both mentally and physically, looking back at it, he’d had more fun now than he’d ever had at home. The stories he’d read at home were real here. Granted, they were different, but still, dragons were dragons and magic was magic!

Did he really want to return home? Go back to the orphanage where he was just another boy, not the tallest or the smartest or the most handsome, but just, a regular orphan boy?

“I’ll tell you what, Percy,” Headmaster Blask said, leaning forward and resting his chin on his interwoven fingers. “Why not finish the placement exams first, maybe see a day or two of school, and then, if you still don’t like it here, you can come visit me to fix it. My door is always open.”

Percy found himself nodding along. “Okay,” he conceded. “I’ll at least do the exams. But, can you tell me a little bit more about this place? I feel like…”

Like a dragon without its wings, Silvaroth supplied.

“Like a dragon without its wings,” Percy repeated.

Blask grinned again. “An apt metaphor. Of course I’ll help provide you some form of orientation here. I wouldn’t have expected you to stumble blindly through all of this—which I’m sure has been rather overwhelming. Some guidance is the least I can offer.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me all this before the first stage of the exams?” Percy asked, exasperation clear in his voice.

The headmaster rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Ah, paperwork, I’m sure you’ll understand. But Valdarthan’s has a very explicit set of policies and protocols. And even given your situation, I couldn’t sway the board to delay the Testing even for a moment. So, unfortunately, you had to suffer through the day. But you’ve done well! A dragon monarch, I’m told?”

“Yeah,” Percy confirmed, unable to help the feeling of pride that was growing in his chest. “His name’s Silvaroth.”

Blask’s eyebrow nearly crept off his head. “Really? Silvaroth, you say? Fascinating.”

Percy smiled. “Yeah. It was a bit tough getting him. He, uh, tried to remove my tongue because I beat him in a game of riddles.”

You did not beat me! the dragon protested. I’ve decided that your last “riddle” did not count at all. It’s a joke. A pun. Nothing more.

“Yeah, but you didn’t figure it out.”

Percy could feel it as the dragon steamed.

“Speaking with your Monarch?” Blask asked casually, sipping his tea.

“Yes,” the boy replied. “Why, is that unusual?”

The headmaster shrugged. “Oh, not entirely. But I wouldn’t do it around other applicants. They might consider it… rude.”

“Okay, thanks for heads-up.”

“My pleasure. And here I thought you couldn’t get any more interesting.”

“Sorry?” Percy asked.

Blask waved a hand, dismissing the subject. Finishing his tea, he placed the cup back down on its dish. “You’ll learn everything you need to know about magic once you begin attending your classes. For now, let’s turn our attention to the exam’s first official applicant duel. I believe you’re familiar with the boy there?”