It had been a three hour drive to the train station. It had been a long, weepy, ordeal, with Mehdi unhappily cramped in the automobile alongside his mother and father. The contraption had even broken down along the way, as evidently a three hour ride along a dusty road was not “healthy” for its engine.

Mehdi wasn’t entirely sure what road didn’t have dirt in it, that sounded like a problem with the car makers.

Any strange, improper, or irrational emotions he had held the night of Adreday, had gone away in the instant with a night’s rest, and had been replaced with the gnawing stress of the fact that there had been some sort of Mage attack on Blanche Manor, and his sister was missing or dead. Missingdead.

The Mage who had promised Mehdi a conversation had utterly vanished after that fateful night, and Mehdi couldn’t help but assume he was also missingdead. Instead, a quiet, mumbling man with orange hair, a smattering of freckles, who sniffed with every sentence greeted them. He introduced himself as N Balustrade, a naming convention Mehdi still didn’t fully understand.

Mehdi didn’t know what conversation went down between his family and the Mage, but he did know that, by the end of it, he was set to leave Bricketfriar two days later.

And here he was, three bags, and one pack straddled across his back, a very soft spoken Mage, and his crying parents.

The train station was barely what Mehdi was expecting when he saw the greatest technological invention of the century, or perhaps, millennia. It was a long, wooden platform, worn from rain, with faded lines that his mother told him that if he passed by them, he would be immediately decapitated by an oncoming train. Nonetheless, it was heavily populated, with dozens of men clinging to assorted bags, waiting patiently. The platform dipped, giving way to a grassy plain, and then resumed a few yards away, where the pillars waited patiently.

His mother hugged him, tightly, and Mehdi hugged her tightly back. His father did the same, and Mehdi mirrored the movement yet again. He wanted to cry, but all he could feel was confusion. He had seen his parents every day for his entire life, how could the next day be any different?

His core screamed at him--of course it would be different. He was going on a train! And yet, tomorrow, Mehdi could not help but picture the same life he always did. He should have seen a Ritesgiver before leaving, his brain was addled. He hoped no one could tell.

“All right, let’s get a move on,” N Balustrade said, pointing to the slow chugging smoke stack on the immediate horizon.

Trains were large, miserable, black-gray, rectangular shaped objects that made a noise that put automobiles to shame. Mehdi watched, entranced and horrified as the monolithic metal snake crawled across the country side, becoming the size of a slow growing monstrosity as it approached.

The smoke overwhelmed Mehdi, and he started to cough. The smoke was black, pungent, and burned his eyes, much more like the fireplace than the automobile.

He was hurried into the train, a cramped, narrow hallway, with benches on each side, each one occupied by two or three people. There was one Tower who had leaned his head backwards, his jaw agape, deep in sleep.

The Mage kept walking forward, focused on the car ahead. Mehdi paused, not knowing if he should follow, but quickly saw there was no seat for him here, and chased after the man.

The next car held only women, with soft, sheer curtains blocking the benches. The car after that, all men, and the one after that, a mix--all nobles. Mehdi could only assume that the Pillars most likely were behind him.

Finally, the Mage stopped, in a slightly less cramped car--with only Mages.

Mehdi had never seen Mages outside of Bricketfriar, which was unsurprising, since he had never been outside of Bricketfriar before, but it was a sight he was not expecting at all. Some were dressed in full regalia, with sashes and brilliant clashes of black and white, poring over papers. Others had completely removed their coat, vest, and even their spell book, and were sleeping peacefully on a bench all to themselves.

“Sit,” N Balustrade ordered, picking a bench, rubbing his face, and kicking the person in front of them for snoring.

“Thanks, uh, Mister… Balustrade?” Mehdi asked, trying his best at how to be polite.

“Noe.”

“Sorry?” Mehdi frowned.

The man rolled his eyes. “N-O-E. That’s my name. Noe Guerir. You can just call me that.”

Mehdi’s eyes widened, and he looked around the car in shock. Was that allowed?

Noe shuffled off his coat, and popped a few buttons off his vest. He gave a breath of relief, and undid his belt.

Mehdi looked away, expecting Noe to suddenly start getting undressed. Instead, the mage didn’t move, and merely slid down into the bench, with a slumped posture.

“So am I supposed to keep that a secret? Like if something happens do I call you Noe or--”

“Just call me Noe,” Noe said, as he shut his eyes. “We only go by rank when we’re on job, and literally nowhere else. I personally think it’s fucking stupid but it’s not my business.”

Mehdi nearly choked on his own saliva. Had he heard that right? That had sounded like a curse word. Did he say anything? Noe was an adult. And a Mage. He probably knew better what his own ruminations were, but also he was travelling with Mehdi now. Wasn’t he worried about the miasma harming him?

The train shifted and started to move forward. A Mage who had the window open to let his pipe smoke out closed the window, and blew a ring of smoke inside the car.

Mehdi clutched his luggage tightly, so much so his joints hurt as they clashed with the awkward corners of the bags.

He didn’t know what to do, or think. So he waited. He stared ahead, and waited, letting his mind lose grip of reality. All he had to do was wait, as his bony knees awkwardly clunked together and he couldn’t sit right due to the wooden benches.

He was normally so good at waiting, too.

Noe snored next to him, and time passed. Noe had taken the window seat too, which was a pain. The windows were these small, little glass squares, unlike some of the other passenger cars they had passed in, where it took up the entire wall. Thus, Mehdi was forced to crane his neck painfully to stare at literally anything new.

And for his rewards, all he got were fir trees and grass, zipping past him faster than he ever travelled in his life.

It was weird not having his mother say something about how he was sitting. Even his father would occasionally shoot him a dark glare if he sat too improperly, but here he was, spreading his legs further and further, as he slid down the bench in an attempt to find something approximating a comfortable position.

He started to count. Not quickly, nothing specific, just aimless counting. Mehdi closed his eyes, trying to gain some peace. He had never attempted such a thing on a train before, and the subtle vibrations made his ability to pass the time all the more difficult.

Eventually Noe startled awake, and cracked his neck in satisfaction.

“We reach Nevan yet?” Noe asked, turning his head to another Mage.

“But an hour in, I’m afraid.”

“Curses,” Noe sighed, staring at Mehdi, and giving a quick, polite smile.

He had known it was a day trip, but it had not occurred to him what a day trip actually meant.

“Can I ask a question?” Mehdi said.

Noe shrugged, but did not say no.

“Why doesn’t everyone just uh--” Mehdi paused. He didn’t know how to word this next part too well. “Use magic to get to their destination?”

Noe snorted, and Mehdi could hear the low grumbles of amusement and annoyance behind him. Had he said something embarrassing? Sacred skies, strike him down now and save him from humiliation. He should have never dared ask a question.

“Well, we got a long trip, might as will give you a primer on how being a mage works,” Noe yawned. He sat up, straightened his back, and sucked on his straight teeth.

Mehdi stared at Noe intently, not actually knowing what he was about to learn.

Noe put his hand up, showcasing four fingers.

“There are four subcores to being a Mage, right? Balustrade, Volterra, Regent, Son. Each one sorta correlates to one of the original four cores. Balustrades are the Gaslamps of the Mages. They don’t learn much magic, they usually work on making wands, paperwork, become Ritesgivers, or just go along as backup. Volterra are your Towers. They are caring, protective, your bodyguards. They can learn some magic, but often they will only ever learn one gift. Now, Regents--”

“Is that how you’re honestly going to explain it?” another Mage with bifocals and a crooked nose cut in.

“You wanna go, Volterra?” Noe asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’m just saying, you’re going to confuse him when he learns about the gifts,” the Mage replied.

“Get your own kid!” Noe yelled, a bit louder than Mehdi liked. Perhaps asking questions was a mistake.

The Mage rolled his eyes, and went back to his paper.

“How could you tell he was a Volterra?” Mehdi asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Cufflink,” Noe said, gesturing to his own, which looked like three black circles on a tree. “It’s a way to display our insignias. Easy way to know who’s in charge, but most normies won’t even register it.”

Mehdi glanced at the mage who had interrupted, and sure enough, on his cuff, were small, glinting red diamond-shaped cufflinks. He had never noticed that before.

“Regents are usually in charge of leading the Volterra. Like in Bricketfriar, we were lead by a guy named Rembrandt, right? He was in charge, and he was a Regent. Now, Regents, they get to learn all sorts of fancy gifts, and some of them, not all but some, get to learn how to teleport,” Noe continued. “Which is how you get Mages making a day’s journey in hours.”

“And Son?” Mehdi asked.

Noe gave a quick intense whistle. “Those are the Mages with the Mage subcore. Those are some mean motherfuckers. You truly emanate magic, from every pore? Then you’re a Son. And what you get to do there--well, that I don’t know, but you train directly underneath the Crown.”

All of those sub-cores sounded ideal except Volterra. Either he was in charge of something, or he didn’t have to be in the middle of a fight. Being a Balustrade wasn’t his ideal form of living, but considering how he was seeing a Balustrade go on trips, it probably meant he could figure a way to get on a boat. Granted, he also wasn’t too keen on being a Son either, but that felt a bit arrogant. Like he could ever qualify for something like that in the first place.

“And now your heresy is going to confuse the initiate,” the Volterra with the bifocals muttered.

“Heresy? What heresy? Talked to your Ritesgiver recently?” Noe snapped.

The Volterra smiled, pushing up his glasses. “Heresy by incompetency is still heresy, no? No Mage is part Tower or part Gaslamp, we are Mages. To claim otherwise is to go against the Crown.”

Noe blinked a few times. “Well, I have not been struck down by the sacred skies yet, so perhaps the heresy here is the anal retention of your weak wills. What’s a Volterra even doing reading the paper, hm?”

This was more cursing and foul words than Mehdi had ever heard in his entire life, and he was fairly certain he was going to die of a heart attack before the train landed in Nevan.

“I like to stay informed, an important job for any mage in these trying times, Balustrade” the Volterra said.

“Mages need to read?” Mehdi said bleakly. If he had to learn how to read--really read, not just read numbers, Ceyda was going to be insufferable.

“Uhh--” Noe stared at Mehdi. “Hey, Volterra, you wanna give me crap, why don’t you take him and teach him your ways?”

The Volterra’s annoyance melted to… what Mehdi could really only describe as “even more annoyance.”

Noe grinned, clacking his teeth together in victory.

The Volterra went back to his paper. Evidently he only cared enough to disagree, not actually to help.

“Anyway, to answer your question, Lucrece, it depends on what you get. You know math, right?” Noe asked.

Mehdi nodded. “Of course, math’s important.”

Noe chuckled. “Can you recognize the alphabet?”

Mehdi nodded again.

“Then you’re fine. You’re already more educated than most of the scoundrels around. Just gotta read information papers. You’ll need to know locations if you get sent certain to areas, certain code words, but it’s really fine,” Noe said. “Unless you go into something that involves paperwork, at which point, yeah, you gotta learn the whole thing. But I’m a Balustrade and even I never bothered.”

Mehdi was slowly becoming worried his only desired option was Regent, so he could give orders, and not go into the fray. That seemed far too ambitious for his liking.

“And… why was that going to be confusing to learn?” Mehdi squeaked, his voice dry. What if he was too stupid to miss what made it confusing?

Noe rolled his head back in annoyance. “Because the gifts also coordinate to the cores, but not in the same way as being a Mage does. And I guess that’s too deficient for some brains to handle.”

There was a moment of silence. Noe did not elaborate.

Oh, so he wasn't going to explain at all.

Mehdi waited silently for ten minutes, counting the seconds, wondering if he could get away with asking one more question. Maybe he could wait until he learned it at Nevan, but what if everyone else already knew these things?

"Uh," Mehdi said carefully. "You said gifts. What are those?"

Noe sighed. “There are five gifts. Each one is a different type of magic. When you, an initiate, are awoken, you will learn how many different gifts you are capable of learning, depending on subcore.”

“So which ones go to what?” Mehdi asked.

“Balustrades get two, the gift of the Chisel,” Noe explained. “It’s the ability to use wands, and help making them. In other words, without a wand, I’m not noticeably different from any other person. We can also meditate and confess to our ruminations like a Mage--but that’s far more complicated and I am not explaining it.”

Mehdi had known that not all Mages were actually magical, but hearing it spelled out like this was a tad different.

“Volterra also get the gift of the Chisel, although they’re arguably more versatile about it. Additionally, they get two other gifts. Gift of the Initiate, which is basic spells, like creating beams and making shields, and gift of the Tower, which are spells based on controlling toxic ruminations,” Noe continued.

Spells to control toxic ruminations? That sounded pretty good.

“And then Regents have access to all those gifts, although by this point, keep in mind, no Mage can learn all. It’s just messy, most are picking and choosing. Focusing, you know. Like one should. They get gifts of the Gaslamp and the Spearhead. The first gift lets you teleport, and the second lets you make your body naturally stronger,” Noe drawled. “Both are incredibly difficult to do, even by Regents standards. Rembrandt, the damn prodigy, he had learned both.”

Mehdi could not help but feel like he had been robbed of the version of this train ride where Rembrandt had travelled with him instead. Rembrandt had seemed a lot nicer than Noe too.

“And the Sons?” Mehdi asked.

Noe shrugged. “They call it the gift of the Crown. Never saw one in action before. Not even the gifts of the Spearhead and Gaslamp are really known, to be honest.”

“That’s not even the correct names,” the Volterra cut in.

“Listen you miasmic fuck, either come in all the way, or go back to reading,” Noe snapped.

The Volterra sighed, sticking his thumb out. “So, one, some Volterra can access the body, oh, do you not know what that is? Is it perhaps this Balustrade used the wrong terminology like a lazy-eyed Pillar?”

Noe rolled his eyes.

“Two, there are six gifts, because World of Rites is not merely an add-on, it is its own unique gift,” the Volterra continued. “Thirdly, it’s Chisel’s Devotion, Spearhead’s Body, Gaslamp’s Mind, Gift of the Initiate, and Tower’s Heart. The gifts are called Devotion, Body, Mind, Initiate, Heart and World of Rites,” the Volterra said, glaring at Noe with intense loathing. “Where by the Crown’s name did you learn?”

“Mareisbourg!” Noe said, his chest swelling.

“Mareisbourg? That swill! The initiate here is going to get beaten up in Nevan, the largest operation for Mages in all of Kesterline!”

“Damn right, he should. Asking questions before he’s even got a bunk. If he wants information early, he can deal with the fact that Nevan is filled with upper crust snobs who will nitpick all the words into death,” Noe responded.

“I would like to not be beaten up,” Mehdi weakly contributed. He knew he shouldn't have asked any questions. Shame burned on his cheeks.

The Volterra stood up, hitching his thumb into his sling, with a spellbook and a wand visible. Noe stood up at the same time, hand on his own wand.

“Hey!” another angry voice barked. The Mage was broad, brown, and had dark, shaggy hair. Mehdi’s eyes immediately travelled to the cufflink--a red heart. So not a Volterra, and not a Balustrade.

So either a Son, or a Regent.

Noe and the Volterra stared at the other Mage warily.

“You are both suffocating this passenger car,” the Mage said quietly. “Cleanse yourselves in the World of Rites, please.”

“I was just doing that,” Noe said. “I am sprightly and of clear mind.”

“Then wash his stink off you,” the Mage ordered.

Noe sighed, shrugged, and sat down. The Volterra did the same.

“So that was a--” Mehdi said.

“Regent,” Noe supplied.

“And you have to listen to him?” Mehdi asked.

Noe glared at Mehdi. “I don’t have to listen to him. He was not put in charge of me. But what were we going to do? Fight in the passenger car? I’d be walking the rest of my days.”

Funny, Noe didn’t seem to care about that a few moments ago.

Before Mehdi could even open his mouth, Noe was asleep again, and the Volterra was too. He shot a polite smile to the Regent. The Regent did not return the smile, but did nod, before shutting his eyes as well.

Mages, it seemed, sure did an awful lot of sleeping.

Noe flinched, still deep in whatever sort of trance he was in, and in the corner of his eye, it almost looked like the Volterra flinched at the same time.

Mehdi knew one thing, now. He wanted whatever sort of control the Regent had. Not because he wanted power--well, that was a lie. Power would be an awfully nice thing to have, but that man, with a single sentence, had stopped a fight.

That seemed nice. Imagine what someone could do with that--

He briefly imagined everyone staring at him, and was overwhelmed by stress and the desire to puke. Confounded skies, he was experiencing something truly illogical--conflicting, irrationally opposed, desires. He wanted to not be known, but desired the influence all the same. He wanted to be that Regent--he just didn’t want to deal with.

Being that.

Mehdi sighed.

None of this mattered, anyway. He wasn’t picking which career path he would take, when he arrived in Nevan, the second part of his Adreday test would begin, and he hated every aching moment towards it.

He had been on the train for over an hour now.

Only five more to go.