“I’ll keep my ranking to myself for now. But to give you an idea about the weight of each class, a middle practitioner of the adept stratum will be respected wherever they go. A higher practitioner of the adept stratum will receive offers to become officers in the military, or body guards for important people. Anywhere in the warrior stratum will land you a top military position, so long as you meet a few other requirements. As for the ascendant stratum, that’s something best saved for your dreams.”

“And the apex stratum?”

“Best not get your hopes up, kid. Only two people have ever reached that realm, and neither of them made it past the lower series, not even Aglain the Betrayer.”

Alistar felt the need to ask a question he’d always wondered over. “If a magician and a swordsman were to fight, who would win?”

“Magicians don’t fight, boy. Arcanites fight. Magicians handle domestic magics, while arcanites work with battle magics. That doesn’t mean a magician can’t use battle magics though, or that an arcanite can’t light a candle.”

“So, who would win?” Alistar pressed.

“I’m getting to that. Supposing they were evenly classed in their respective professions, it would still depend on the situation. In close combat, the swordsman would win nine times out of ten, unless he’s dealing with an incredibly skilled arcanite. If the fight starts with distance between them, the arcanite would have the upper hand, since they can fire off projectiles or conjure up irregularities in the environment.”

An impressive spectacle was playing out in Alistar’s mind. “Have you ever fought an arcanite?”

“I’ve fought my fair share. Let me tell you, it isn’t easy charging across a spontaneous sheet of ice, or avoiding the animated roots of a tree.” Tramon crossed his arms, looking back into his past with a satisfied smirk.

“When will I learn to fight with a sword?”

Tramon laughed. “When I deem that you’re ready. For now, you’ll be meditating by this tree every morning, rain or shine!”

The prospect of sitting still for hours under the hot sun or heavy rain didn’t exactly have Alistar burning with excitement. But Tramon was the Swordmaster, despite his demeanour.

“Okay,” Alistar said. “Shall I get back to it then?”

Looking both partially amused and partially annoyed, Tramon said, “I can’t tell when you’re mocking me or when you’re serious.” He paused. “I hate people like that.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t mocking you.”

Tramon shooed him away. “That’ll be all for today, little bastard of the Silverkins. Be here tomorrow, two hours after sunup. I’ll be out, so meditate under this tree until I return.”

“Okay,” said Alistar. Standing, he bowed once more. “Thank you for your time.” He smiled, happy that he was finally beginning to move forward. “See you tomorrow.”

“You bow a lot, don’t you?”

Alistar laughed and ran away from Tramon’s wing of the complex, which was only connected to the main building by a broad, stone overhang. The first thing he did was find the nearest water fountain, where he sated his sun-scorched thirst, before taking off his shirt and pouring water all down his body. He’d almost climbed into the fountain, but several judgemental glares had made him reconsider.

Though he desired to check out the collegia’s library, Mr. Herst’s lessons were soon to begin. If he didn’t arrive earlier than the others, then finding a seat would be awkward, since he didn’t want to be too far away from the front.

Once he had air-dried, he redressed and made for the Hanging Hill. After stopping for a meat stick and buying a second to give to a ragged man with his hands out that everyone else seemed to be ignoring, Alistar arrived at the hill to find Mr. Herst speaking with two of the young women that helped him oversee the classes. Surprisingly, Anice and her friends were all there. Aside from her group, a small cluster of children sat off to the other side, mumbling to themselves.

Spotting him, Anice pointed him out. “There he is! I told you he would be here.” She waved him over.

Connecting eyes with some of her friends, Alistar’s throat constricted. He took a breath, waved at Mr. Herst, and then walked over to the group. Smiling, he greeted them all with a broad hello.

“Alie! How was your first lesson?” Anice wore a simple white dress, but it seemed that she had cut most of the bottom off so that the tattered borders barely covered her knees. The fabric was flecked with dirt, and a few leaves had become entangled in the laces near the collar. Her touseled hair showed signs of having been combed earlier this morning, but it seemed that Madeline’s efforts had gone to waste within hours of her leaving the manor house.

“It was alright,” he said quietly. “We just talked, mostly.”

“You’re in luck, new kid,” said Woods. He sat cross-legged at the centre of the group, the only one that wasn’t on his feet. “Looks like old man Herst brought another basket of apples today.”

Alistar looked over at him. “You don’t seem too pleased.”

“I’d much rather one of the sweet buns…”

“Or twenty,” scoffed Jaden. His skin was red from overexposure to the sun, hidden freckles coming to life on his face.

“You should have come yesterday,” Alistar managed. “They were quite delicious.”

“He really brought sweet buns yesterday?” Woods flew to his feet and shoved Jaden too hard to be considered friendly. “I’d wanted to come! I told you I had a feeling we should go, but you said it wouldn’t be any fun. You made me fish with you all day in the hot sun. You owe me sweet buns!”

The girls giggled.

“You’d make quite the poet, Woods!” Lessa, the girl that bore a striking resemblance to Kaila, wore a beautiful blue dress, not a single wrinkle on the thin, flowing piece. Her lemon hair was knotted and hung down her back in what the house servants called a braiding, her clean and tame appearance a stark contrast to Anice’s wild look.

The boy named Zech stepped forward. “Why didn’t you come with us the other day?” The buttons of his homespun shirt were undone, exposing a sweat-stricken chest.

“I—I had to meet with my uncle,” said Alistar. How could he tell them that they made him uncomfortable?

Woods gave him an odd look. “You’re acting like Jaden does around Lily. It’s weird.” He doubled over as the other boy punched him in the stomach.

One of the triplets shuffled her feet, her face reddening.

Soon the hilltop was alive with the chatter of dozens of children. Alistar chose to stick with Anice and her friends, though he mostly kept to himself since he couldn’t think of anything interesting to say. Throughout the lesson, he asked questions whenever he could, but most in his cousin’s group committed to whispered conversations all throughout the discussion, and were quite distracting. Afterward, once the snacks had been eaten and the other children had begun to filter away, Anice dragged him along with the rest of her friends and Alistar missed out on another long discussion with Mr. Herst. He had wanted to ask about the Flight of the Abdales, and why it wasn’t recorded in any of the records that he’d read, but he didn’t want to risk offending the others.

Together, the group spent the rest of the day wandering throughout the town, browsing through shops and picking their way through the marketplace. Once, Alistar noticed the shorter, quieter boy named Corrie nick a few apples from a fruit stall before slipping away from the group without anybody else seeming to notice. He’d returned before long, though nobody noted his absence.

Emely, along with the three triplets, were constantly plucking flowers from the gardens out front of people’s homes, while Zech and Jaden pestered the stall owners that sold weaponry to the point that they were driven off on six different occasions. Twice, the group was refused entry into one of the shops on South Street by owners that recognized them with open distaste. It seemed that some of them had built an unfavourable reputation with several of the townspeople.

Alistar spent the entire day with the group, mostly keeping to himself and following quietly from behind. By the time the sun was about to set, he and Anice were just leaving the secret spot in the grove beside the Greyline River. At this point, he was quite embarrassed. Not long before, Lessa had tried to start up a conversation with him, but he’d found himself at a loss for words and she eventually left to go speak with the other girls, who kept giggling and looking in his direction. Were they laughing at him? Why was speaking to other children so difficult?

Once they returned home, in order to make up for lost time, Alistar spent the rest of the night reading alone in his room, pausing briefly to tell Caedmon about his day when his uncle dropped by to check in on him. Later that night, as he lay awake in the moments that preceded a spell of sleep, he cradled his mother’s locket and thought about everything that had happened since Alder had saved him. He missed his family more than he could describe, and still cried almost every night before drifting off into his dreary dreams. Tonight was no exception.

Life in Mayhaven was wondrous, and there was always something new to do or see. There were so many amazing things that made up the isolated city, so many people leading different and unique lives. It was almost overwhelming. Despite that, he had been trying his best to cope with his traumas, and to manage his new lifestyle. He was now taking lessons under a supposed master of the sword, had access to a vast wealth of knowledge in Caedmon’s library and that of the collegia, and was out trying to make friends.

He thought about his parents and his uncle Raidon, of Kaila, her grandpa, and her parents as well. Gripping his mother’s locket tightly, the last thought to pass through his mind before sleep took hold was that today he had taken another step closer to realizing his goal.