Come. Find me. The voice, like a fond memory of a friend, echoed throughout his dreams. He tossed and turned restlessly as the sound came to him, unable to find peaceful rest.

But how am I supposed to find you? He asked the voice. Even Lucian Peran couldn’t find you.

You are close. It echoed back. Come. Find me.

“You look awfully tired, young master.”

Samuel looked up from the plate in front of him, blinking blearily at the kind face next to him. It was Seamus, he noticed. The plump cook’s face was wrinkled in concern as he peered more closely at his young lord.

“That’s putting it mildly, Seamus,” Samuel said, barely managing to stifle a huge yawn. He’d been woken up many times the previous night after he’d had the same odd dream on repeat.

He’d been suspended in a strange mist, fighting desperately to free himself. He’d been weightless but trapped, and he’d heard the voice come to him. Each time, the voice, which must have belonged to Arcana, told him to find it. It seemed to linger just beyond the barrier of the mist, but Samuel was unable to reach it. Then, just as the voice had begun to fade, he’d been suddenly jolted awake.

Seamus frowned thoughtfully. “Was the bed not comfortable enough, my lord? Perhaps you’d like to get some more sleep after breakfast?”

Samuel shook his head slowly and returned his attention to his breakfast. It was another simple yet tasty meal, this time eggs and bacon. Seamus had just placed another plate in front of him, containing several pieces of toast and a tart jam to spread on it. Samuel offered him a quiet word of thanks as Shigeru entered the room.

“I can’t go back to bed, Seamus.” He said, stifling another yawn. “I have to go to the Mage’s College today, and their doors open in two hours.”

Seamus nodded his understanding and turned to Shigeru. “Master Tokugawa, would you like some breakfast? I have eggs and toast ready if you wish.”

“Yes please,” Shigeru said quietly. “Thank you, Master Chef.”

Seamus grinned at the formal reply. “Master doesn’t quite fit me. Please just call me Seamus.”

Shigeru nodded, accepting the correction. “Very well, Seamus-san.”

Seamus tilted his head, slightly confused at the Nihon-Jan honorific, but shrugged and moved away. Samuel stifled a third yawn and glanced over at Shigeru. Despite the earliness of the hour, he seemed wide-awake and alert, without any signs of tousled hair or wrinkled clothing. Samuel commented wryly on this and received a wan smile.

“Side effect of my master’s training.” He said with a slight shrug as Seamus returned, placing a loaded plate in front of him. “He insisted that I be presentable before leaving my room, even at the crack of dawn. Hard habit to break once he drilled it into my head.”

Samuel laughed slightly. “I’ve never had such a strict upbringing.”

Shigeru’s shoulders lifted slightly once again. “My master deemed it necessary. A prompt appearance adds to one’s personal honor, he said.”

Samuel couldn’t help but notice that Shigeru’s mastery of the Common Tongue had improved drastically since their arrival at Milagre. He sure learns fast, he thought to himself. But perhaps not, he argued. It was a sudden improvement. Commenting on this, he saw that Shigeru’s small smile turned into a full grin.

“My Common is excellent, thank you.” He said, a mischievous light in his eyes. “I kept it simple when I first met you, unsure if I could trust you or not.”

“What difference does us being strangers have to do with your language skills?” Samuel asked interestedly.

“If a foreigner speaks like he doesn’t know much, people take less notice of him,” Shigeru said. It was a good point in observation and social maneuvering that Samuel filed away for future reference.

They finished their breakfast in companionable silence, chatting about things of no consequence. Others from the household came to join them one at a time, sitting down at the table with a quiet word of greeting for the young lord and his companion. Like Shigeru, they came properly dressed in clean, wrinkle-free clothing, and seemed to be fully awake.

Samuel had a sudden sensation of feeling quite extraordinarily out of place, which didn’t happen often. Even Marie, who had seemed careless and clumsy in their first meeting, came down in a proper day gown, her hair brushed straight, and seemed to be on her best manners. In the past, whenever Samuel had found himself in an unfamiliar situation, he’d simply completed his business and left. He didn’t care much for how others viewed him, but he reflected that perhaps it was time to start paying attention. At least to get by.

The rest of the morning seemed to pass in no time at all. Shigeru left the dining room with Samuel. Samuel couldn’t tell if Shigeru had nothing better to do, or chose to stick with him because he wanted to. Somehow, he couldn’t pluck up the will to ask the foreigner. As ever, Grimr stuck close to the swordsman, seeming to never let him out of his sight.

“I assume you’re going to the College now, young master?” Arthur’s voice came out of nowhere as Samuel crossed the entry hall, heading for the large wooden doors. He turned and noticed the steward standing near the top of the high staircase leading up onto the second floor. He had a think piece of fabric on his arm that vaguely resembled clothing.

“Yes,” Samuel replied simply. “Their doors open at the twelfth hour, and I want to get in before it gets too busy. Then I thought I’d explore the city a bit.”

He’d thought for a moment that Arthur would disapprove, but the steward surprised him by nodding in understanding. “Of course, my lord. I have your robe ready here, and if you wait a few moments, I will call the carriage for you.”

Samuel looked with interest at the folded garment draped over Arthur’s arm as the steward moved closer. It looked just like the dark blue robe he was wearing now, but as it was shaken out, he noticed that there were some differences. The golden thread at the hem and collar were more intricate, and there were no patches to be seen. Furthermore, there was an elaborate image stitched on the shoulders and back of the robe. Assuming it was heraldry of some kind, Samuel leaned closer to study it and saw that it was a hawk depicted in flight.

How fitting, Grimr commented dryly. It becomes you.

“I don’t mind wearing the robe,” Samuel said, sensing that it would be a waste of effort to argue the point. “But I’m not riding the carriage through town. Nor will I be taking any guards with me. They get the day off.”

Arthur blanched at the thought. “But what about protection, young master? You cannot be allowed to walk the streets, vulnerable to any thug or miscreant who might target you.”

Samuel rolled his eyes in exasperation, an action that told Arthur quite clearly he thought he was mother-henning him. “It’s nearly mid-day, Arthur. I doubt there will be many thieves and murderers out and about. And even if there is, Shigeru will be able to handle them.”

He glanced at the swordsman as he said this, noting that the well-oiled twin swords were in the sash around his belt as usual. He raised an eyebrow at Shigeru, seeking confirmation of his question. The warrior nodded solemnly in response.

“I will be more than glad to serve as your guard, Samuel-san,” Shigeru said, also turning to face the worrying steward.

Arthur frowned thoughtfully for several seconds, then capitulated. He obviously preferred to send Samuel out with four guards minimum, but he’d seen the foreigner in action. He was deadly skilled with his swords and was a force to be reckoned with. Especially to an enemy, he reflected.

“Very well, young master,” he said with a sigh, holding the robe out for Samuel to put on.

Samuel switched his beloved worn robes out for the newer version. They were made of heavy-duty silk, and he felt a brief moment of surprise when he slid it on. It fit perfectly, just as his old robe had. He was about to ask how they’d known his measurements but decided not to waste the effort. Obviously, they’d copied them down from the clothing he’d discarded the previous night.

“Thank you, Arthur,” he said as he finished tying the rope into place. It was light enough, yet it had a sturdy feel to it that he appreciated. Even without the wool of the old robe, he felt quite warm and comfortable. “They are fine robes.”

Arthur smiled in satisfaction. “It is important that you be recognizable when you leave the house, young master.”

Samuel shrugged in reply, unconsciously straightening his posture. The steward noticed this, and his smile widened. He seemed to be slowly emulating the body language and behavior of a noble. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard to teach the young man to fit in, Arthur thought.

Samuel turned and pulled the door open, letting in a surge of fresh late-morning air. He took a deep breath as he felt it. He always liked fresh air, even when he was indoors. He’d opened his bedroom windows wide the previous night, despite the chill of the night air. The air in a room could become stagnant and stale very quickly. He’d learned this at a very young age.

He and Shigeru walked across the small courtyard, passing the fountain by and heading down the well-maintained road to the city. They were drawing close to the first set of buildings when Shigeru finally broke the silence.

“You don’t seem comfortable in the position of a noble.” The warrior commented, taking Samuel by surprise.

“If I’m being honest, no,” Samuel said after a while, once more relaxing into his usual slouch.

Shigeru seemed to be studying him out of the corner of his eye. “Are you ever not?”

“Am I ever not what?”

“Honest.” The warrior said with a grin.

“Oh,” Samuel said, temporarily at a loss for words. “Well, generally, I try to be an honest person. It’s more honorable to tell the truth.”

Shigeru inclined his head in agreement. “True. But there are times when a lie is useful.”

“And those times are very rare.”

In fact, Samuel preferred to tell the truth. He didn’t view himself as any more noble or good for it, but he felt that it was a waste of his energy and time trying to keep up a lie. There had been times in his life where he’d lied, to escape trouble or avoid a troublesome situation. But in the majority, he refused to lie. Even when it seemed easier.

They’d walked nearly ten blocks before Samuel paused, uncertain. It had just occurred to him that he had no clue where the Mage’s Guild and College were. As soon as they’d stopped, he and Shigeru were immediately shunted off to the side of the street by the early morning traffic.

“Where are all these people going?” Samuel asked, gesturing to the crowds of people shuffling along, their eyes kept resolutely forward, moving with a purpose.

Shigeru rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’d guess they are farmers, on their way home for a meal. Or maybe heading back to the fields.”

Samuel stared with new interest at the multitude of people passing them by. As quick as the crowds had formed, they dissipated along down the road, and only a few people remained on the street, wandering around about their business.

“Interesting. I had no idea there were this many farmers in Milagre.”

Shigeru had been outside the carriage as they’d approached the city, and so had seen the large plowed fields teeming with busy workers. “There is a lot of farmland by the river, where the soil is rich.”

Looking around, Samuel noticed a small cafe across the street, with several small tables placed out front for customers. There was a group of middle-aged ladies sitting at one, having an animated conversation as they worked knitting needles. They vaguely reminded him of the women in Harlest, who could be counted on to know who and where everyone was. He crossed over to them, clearing his throat politely to attract their attention.

“Excuse me, madams.” His voice, nowhere near yelling volume, made one of the ladies jump. She looked up at him, then her eyes focused on the heraldry on his robes and she jumped to her feet, beginning a curtsy. Samuel reached out a hand to stop her.

“No need for that, mother.” He said with a warm smile. “Do you know where I might find the Mage’s Guild?”

The lady looked taken aback at his informal attitude but warmed to him at once. For some reason, mothers and elderly ladies couldn’t help but smile warmly at him, more than often pinching his cheek fondly. Thankfully, this time his cheek remained untouched. Her smile was wide and welcoming, however, as she replied.

“Of course, young man!” She said with a slight chuckle. Lifting the arm that wasn’t clutching her knitting, she began to point out a series of directions. “Just go down this street here until you reach the King’s Road, then go east for a few hundred feet. That will lead to a small little road to the Guild.”

Samuel smiled and gave a little nod of his head. “I am indebted, mother. Thank you for your help, and good luck with your knitting.”

She waved merrily as he walked away, and her two friends tittered. Samuel could hear their discussion resume as he left earshot, and he had a sneaking suspicion that they were now discussing him. Shigeru moved swiftly to fall in by his right side. Samuel was sure that he would hear some passive comment on his interaction with the women, but Shigeru stayed silent on the matter.

It wasn’t long before they reached the Guild. The King’s Road was the largest and most used road in Milagre, and as such was packed with people, but they didn’t have much trouble navigating it. The directions for the final road turned out to be unnecessary, because as the Mage’s Guild came into view, Samuel recognized his goal at once. The smaller but still substantial street led straight to it, not varying in its ruler-straight nature.

It looked less like a College, and more like a palace. A large wall surrounded the entire campus, dotted every hundred feet or so with a tall tower. The wall was more of a decoration than a defense, barely reaching 3 meters high. It was adorned with elaborate carvings and banners, and two standards flew over the main gate. The highest, a roaring lion of gold on a dark red background, was instantly recognizable as the Royal Family’s flag. Beside it, and nearly as high was a dark grey flag bearing an elaborate depiction of a perched owl stitched in white thread.

As they entered through the Guild’s main gate, Samuel became aware of a sense of uniform and order. There was an almost constant flow of traffic as people in robes walked back and forth across the large open space, going from building to building. Samuel noticed that nobody seemed to stop to chat, but instead moved with the same sense of purpose and hurry he’d seen in the farmers. It was very different from the slightly chaotic bustle of the city outside.

The robes were different colors, but the meaning was obvious. The majority of the students seemed to be wearing dark brown robes, with simple, unadorned hems. There were others mixed in the crowd and less apparent, with different colors and a variety of hems and trim. It was hard to determine rank apart from the brown robes. He saw one elderly man, clothed in a bright white robe trimmed in black, with gold stitching worked around the sleeves and up his arms. The owl crest was repeated on the man’s shoulders and back, and he carried himself with confidence. Everyone else seemed to step aside for him, leaving his path clear.

Samuel could see no other evidence of a white robe, with trim or otherwise, so he assumed it was a very high rank. The man in the white robe disappeared into a building, and Samuel realized that he’d been standing still at the entrance for several minutes. Several of the people passing him by gave him weird looks, and he decided that movement, even in the wrong direction, would make him stand out far less than standing there gawking.

He headed straight for the building directly to his right, on the side of the large open space. Staying to the paths so as not to crush the grass under his heels, Samuel entered the smaller building. A small bell-like chime sounded as he pushed the door open, announcing his presence to the room.

He strolled through the entryway of the building, coming to a stop before a large wooden desk stacked with papers on either side. A tired-looking figure sat immersed in a large leather-bound tome at the desk, his robe a deep red color. There was some stitching on his robe, but no fancy work around the hems. The heraldry on his robe was not an owl, but an unfamiliar, strange crest. Samuel couldn’t tell if it was a dog or a wolf.

The stranger’s head lifted at the sound of the bell, looking mildly irritated at the distraction. His expression didn’t change as he saw the heraldry of his robes, and Samuel heaved an unseen sigh of relief, realizing that he didn’t have to play a special role here.

“Good morning.” The red-robed man said. “What can I help you with?”

Samuel cleared his throat once or twice, unsure of how to begin. “Hi. I’m here to apply.”

The man at the desk sighed slightly, in a very audible manner. “Apply to what? Are you seeking to join the Guild, or are you looking for a partnership with the Guild?”

“The College, hopefully,” Samuel said, waiting on tenterhooks.

“Ah.” the man said simply. Samuel wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad response.

The clerk placed a bookmark in the tome and closed it, then slid it to the side. He reached under the table and produced a ledger, opening it roughly halfway and grabbing a quill.

“What is your name?” he asked brusquely.

Taken aback by the less than friendly reception, Samuel stumbled over his response a bit. “Bragg. I mean, Samuel Bragg.”

The man wrote his name down with a flourish. “Very well. Before you proceed into admission, we must test you to see which school you favor.

“School?” Samuel queried. “Isn’t there only one in the Guild?”

The clerk paused in the act of reaching under the table once more and looked up at Samuel in surprise. “You don’t know about the schools of magic?”

Samuel shook his head, feeling uninformed and stupid. The clerk shrugged, then placed a wooden bowl filled with muddy water on the desk before Samuel.

“Channel your mana into the bowl. Depending on the effect it causes, your favored school will be revealed.” He looked at Samuel with narrowed eyes. “You do know how to channel mana, don’t you?”

Samuel was about to say no, but an image flashed across his mind. He remembered the sensation of flowing power that went from Grimr to his body and the sense of heat and power when Arcana had lent him mana. He’d obviously never tried it himself, but he thought that, perhaps, he might be able to manage it. He cleared his throat nervously and nodded.

“Then get on with it.” the clerk said impatiently.

Moving closer, Samuel placed his hand a few inches over the bowl and closed his eyes in concentration. He tried to remember exactly how the flow of energy felt, thinking of the ocean, and how it ebbed and flowed. Almost at once, he became aware of a feeling of heat resonating throughout his body. Once he knew it was there, he opened his eyes and saw, to his surprise, that his body was coated with a strange purple sheen of light. Laced among the purple were flecks of pure white.

The clerk opened his mouth, either to correct him or tell him to hurry up, but Samuel ignored him. He willed the energy to leave his body and enter the bowl. For several seconds, nothing happened, and he began to strain as he tried to channel his mana.

Allow me to assist you. A voice, much deeper and more ancient than Grimr’s sounded in the back of his head. He felt his mind going slightly foggy, as it had done with Grimr, but this time he seemed to still be in control.

Try again. Will the mana to leave your body, but don’t force it. It is a delicate process. Samuel tried again, but with less strain, almost as if he were coaxing the last few drops of ale from a tankard into his mouth. Almost at once, the white flecks that swirled around his body rushed into his arms and down out of his hands. They dripped into the bowl almost as if they were liquid, and Samuel withdrew his arm, waiting to see what happened.

“You’re supposed to touch the bowl.” The clerk began in an annoyed voice, then stopped abruptly.

He stared at the bowl in surprise and fascination, then switched his gaze to Samuel and back in rapid succession. His mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to speak, but he seemed temporarily robbed of words. Samuel didn’t understand why he was so shocked and looked down at the bowl in his own turn. The muddy water hadn’t changed in the slightest, but the bowl had. It was now made of solid, perfectly formed glass.