“Welcome, students.”

They were once again in the giant auditorium. Each student was seated in their respective sections, once more presenting a veritable rainbow of colors as they were separated by rank. Samuel now sat in the front left row, as he was the officially recognized Champion of Arcana. He still wasn’t quite sure what this meant exactly, but he’d decided not to waste the energy trying to fight it.

Dean Peran stood once more at the front of the massive room, her words carrying easily to everyone’s ears. As she spoke, the chatter from the crowd died down at once, and all faces turned to listen. She waited just long enough to make sure she had their undivided attention, then continued on.

“Examination Week ended three days ago, and the results for each student’s tasks have been discussed and graded.” Peran made a gesture at the teachers of each school, who rose from their seats as one and joined her on the stage. “We will now begin with the Ceremony of Recognition. As you all know, this ceremony celebrates and honors those few students who went above and beyond the expectations set by their masters.”

A ripple of murmured interest swept through the students at this, then quickly died out. Glancing around, Samuel saw that quite a few of the gathered students looked expectant, and some even looked hopeful. He suspected those were the ones hoping to have earned such honor and prestige. It was clear that such recognition carried quite a bit of weight among the students, and Samuel found that he wasn’t surprised. The College was a very studious place, where popularity meant very little, and only your merit in studies and arcane skill were counted.

“I will now ask each master to come forth, and name those gifted students who have performed so well.”

Samuel sat up a little straighter, peering closely as the first teacher, Archmage Henrik Wembly, stepped forward. He was tall and blonde, with a handsome air to him. Samuel supposed that he was quite popular with the ladies outside of the College, with his bright wide smile and piercing blue eyes. He was the second youngest Archmage, after Rachel Ashara, and his work with Travel magic had made him quite well-known throughout the nation of Gorteau.

“I am Archmage Henrik Wembly,” he said to the crowd at large. “I am the recognized Master of Travel Magic within the Mage’s Guild and this College, and I honor Erin Wembly, my cousin, for his prodigious skill in the school of Travel Magic. Stand, Erin, and be recognized.”

A tall boy, who looked almost identical to the Archmage, stood straight up. He was seated among the red-robed Adepts, and those closest to him looked around with little surprise in their faces and started to clap. The wave of applause spread throughout the room, and even the teachers joined in. Near where Erin Wembly stood, Samuel recognized Viktor, the clerk who Samuel had met on his first day. Viktor’s face was full of disappointment, but he did his best to make a good show of it, reaching across a row to shake Wembly’s hand.

Archmage Wembly stepped back, replaced by Archmage Ashara. Her white robes were in excellent condition today, and she wore a beautiful necklace and many rings that complimented the robes perfectly. Her honey-colored hair seemed to float of its own accord as she stepped forward, smiling down at the assembled students.

“I am Archmage Rachel Ashara,” She said loudly. Samuel realized that there was a set speech each teacher must give. “I am the recognized Master of Divination Magic within the Mage’s Guild and this College, and I recognize my pupil, Alfred Moran, for his constant application to the school of Divination Magic. Stand, Alfred, and be recognized.”

A short, bespectacled boy in green robes stood quickly, stumbling in his haste. Flushing furiously as laughter broke out among the applause, Alfred stood as straight as he could, then sent a bow in the direction of Archmage Ashara. Samuel thought that Alfred looked exceptionally out of place among his peers, who all sat with obvious pride. Alfred, when seated once more, slouched noticeably, as though keen to get attention off of him.

“Rumor has it that he wants to use his family’s wealth for a chance at Archmage Ashara’s hand in marriage.” The student next to him said with a chuckle. He wore silvery-white robes adorned by gold cloth pauldrons, and Samuel thought he looked a little snobbish. The amulet of Abbadon hung around his neck, signifying that he was the God of Law’s chosen representative. Samuel didn’t respond but offered half a smile.

Next was Master Kiinor, the Restoration Teacher. Coming after Archmage Ashara, she looked a little dull in comparison. Her handsome olive skin stood out rather poorly against the deep blue robes she wore, but she radiated an aura of power and calm confidence that seemed even more potent than the other teachers.

“I am Master Kendra Kiinor,” she said in an even tone. “I am the recognized master of Restoration Magic within the Mage’s Guild and this College, and I recognize no student.”

Shocked murmurs erupted from the crowd at this, and it took nearly a full minute for order to be restored. Kiinor ignored the spectacle her words had caused and retreated back to her place in line without another word. Samuel stared at her in surprise. She’d struck him as a kind and caring woman when he’d attended her class months ago. Comparing it to the stern, icy figure that blankly stared into the crowd, she felt like an entirely new person.

“They can do that?” He asked the Abbadon representative next to him. “And why is she so strict suddenly?”

The priestly figure looked surprised as well, but not as much as the others around them. He shrugged slightly. “She’s quite within her right to not recognize anyone, and I’ve always known her to be very strict around examination times, but this is the first time she’s not recognized a student.”

Samuel, who was still comparing the two versions of Kendra Kiinor in his mind, almost missed the end of his reply. So apparently this habit of hers was well known. He shrugged in his own turn, facing to turn the stage once more as the tumult died down and Master Astori stepped forward.

“I am Master Sean Astori,” his balding teacher said in a bored drawl. “I am the recognized Master of Transmutation Magic within the Mage’s College, and I recognize my pupil, Samuel Bragg, for his tireless dedication to the art of transmutation and his unique ways of casting magic. Stand, Samuel, and be recognized.”

At first, as everyone turned to stare at him, Master Astori included, Samuel half-glanced behind him to see who they were all looking at. Then the words sank into his brain, which rather felt like a puddle of slushy water at that very moment, and jumped to his feet hastily. Thankfully he didn’t trip over the hem of his long robe or the chair in front of him. Glancing around, he saw hundreds of people clapping and craning their next to get a glimpse of this new name.

Doing his best to ignore the weight of over a thousand eyes bearing into him at once and threatening to incinerate him, he offered Master Astori a shallow bow, more of a deep nod. Astori returned the gesture, his face full of that familiar dry amused expression as if he’d just loosened a very crucial bolt in order to see something fall.

Why did you recognize me out of all of your students? Samuel directed the thought at Astori. He’d since learned who among his peers and teachers could use mental communication. He’d not been surprised at all to learn that Astori was capable. Since then, whenever Samuel had something to discuss that he didn’t want others to hear, he used this method. Surely there were better candidates.

Not according to my own selection method, Samuel. Even Astori’s voice was thick with amusement. Samuel thought at once that he and Grimr had at least one thing in common. You are gaining in skill with astonishing speed. With skill comes fame. You will get used to this.

Skill can also bring infamy and notoriety. Samuel practically hissed at his teacher. Astori turned slowly and smirked at him from forty feet away.

Personally, I don’t see the difference.

While they had conversed, Samuel realized that the other teachers had gone after Astori, and the last one, a man in his late fifties and clad in the robe of an Archmage, was stepping off the stage. He had quite a bit of flaming red hair. Samuel knew he was the Archmage of Destruction Magic, father to the Restoration Master, and grandfather to Erik Kiinor, Samuel’s unintended rival. Just then, Dean Peran was stepping back onto the stage.

“Congratulations to everyone for surviving a week of grueling study and revision,” Peran said, offering the crowd the first smile Samuel had ever seen the woman use. “Next, I want you to stay in your seats as your examination results are dispersed.”

Conversation immediately broke out among the crowd, as everyone waited for the red-robed Adepts to pass them their examination papers. It took nearly twenty minutes for them to reach everyone. Samuel couldn’t help but admire the way they did it, taking far less time than he would have expected. Each Adept walked down the stairs between each section, followed by a massive stack of parchment sheets. At each row, they paused to speak an incantation, and individual sheets broke away from the mass to land on the laps of each student.

Samuel reached out to snag his as it arrived, and looked down eagerly. A frown crossed his face as he realized that the page was rather blank, apart from a series of tiny, repeating runes along the edge. Glancing at the papers held by other students, he noticed that they too were blank, and wondered at the reason.

“Each paper has been distributed now,” Peran said, snagging Samuel’s attention. “Pay attention, for I will reveal your results now. If you have achieved the appropriate scores for progression, come forward to receive your new robes.”

She spoke a lengthy incantation and gave a broad wave of her hand. A long and wide table appeared on the stage in front of her, carrying robes of all colors. She then spoke another incantation, and a great deal of noise broke out as ink spread across each page, revealing the students’ results. Almost at once, several people stood and began to approach the lanes leading to the stage. Feeling a surge of excitement that made him feel lightheaded, Samuel looked down at his page.

FINAL EXAMINATION RESULTS

Samuel Bragg

Acolyte of Arcana

First Year

Archmage Lucius Peran

Scores are presented between 0 and 100. You are required to achieve at least a score of 70 to complete first-year studies and graduate to the second year. Schools that you did not participate in this year will be marked as Exempt, to show that you were not graded in these fields.

Samuel Bragg has achieved:

Transmutation - 0

Destruction - Exempt

Restoration - Exempt

Divination - 0

Alchemy - Exempt

Travel - 0

Samuel stared at his sheet with blank shock, feeling as if each zero was an explosion that deafened him. He read the list over and over again, feeling his stomach sink further and further with each pass. The world around him fading into a dull blur, he sat stunned, only vaguely aware of the students sliding around him in a mass, heading to the front to grab their new robes. Loud laughter and conversation broke out all around, as relieved students made plans for impromptu parties or feasts.

Samuel paid no mind to the horde of colored robes walking past him. He couldn’t even really see the piece of paper he was holding. His attention was unfocused, unable to conjure even the most simple reaction to this unexpected news. He had failed. There was no other way of seeing it. He had set one goal in his mind to show that his time in Milagre had not been wasted, and it was the examinations.

Why had he failed so badly? He could have sworn that he performed well in Divination and Travel, and hadn’t Master Astori praised his efforts, stating that Samuel had completed his task much faster than expected? Samuel lifted his head finally from the paper to seek out the blue-robed form of his Transmutation teacher. No sooner had he began to look, however, than he noticed Master Astori standing before him, a look of confusion upon his face.

“What is wrong with your results, Samuel?” the Transmutation Master asked in a tone much softer than usual.

Samuel looked up into his face and opened his mouth to explain, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was stuck between a desire to complain about the injustice of it all, yet also to rage at Astori for giving him false hopes. After five months of grinding application and study, this is what he earned? Was there nothing for him here after all?

He stood to his feet with one swift movement, making Astori start in surprise. Without saying a word, Samuel thrust the parchment at the bald teacher, wanting him to feel the impact of the scores himself. Astori took it and looked it over, half-glancing up at Samuel with a question. Then he focused once more on the sheet, and his look of confusion deepened. It didn’t last long, however, before it was replaced by an expression of anger, then disgust.

“Come with me!” He said suddenly, not even waiting to see if Samuel obeyed. “We’ll see about this!”

Astori marched briskly back through the crowd, parting it easily in his sudden and potent temper. Students and other Masters alike jumped out of his way as he moved, looking half curious, half nervous. Samuel couldn’t blame those who were nervous. If there was one word that he could never have used to describe Master Sean Astori, it was emotional. The man was cold as stone, and only used logic to further his cause. Seeing him this angry couldn’t be a good sign.

Astori stormed up the steps, reaching the stage, and turning to face the crowd. He made a small motion to Samuel, indicating that he should join him. Hesitantly, Samuel stepped up to the stage, feeling a familiar sense of apprehension, much like he did when he was called forward to stand as Arcana’s representative.

“Attention!” Astori barked, much louder than Samuel had ever heard him speak before. Everyone in the hall stopped talking at once and looked to the stage. “Archmage Ashara, Wembly, and Peran, please join me on the stage.”

Rachel Ashara and Henrik Wembly moved at once to join them, looking intensely curious. At first, Samuel thought that Lucian Peran had already left the hall, but then he saw the Archmage climbing the steps, looking resolutely stubborn. What he didn’t expect was the continued attention of everyone else in the hall. Far from continuing their conversations about grades and celebration, every single pair of eyes was focused on the stage. Some had even sat down in the closest seat, ignoring the normal separation of ranks.

“Archmage Ashara,” Astori said in a terse voice, ignoring everyone else in the hall. “Do you remember the grade you gave Samuel here at the end of his examinations?”

Looking even more confused now, Ashara nodded. “Yes, I do. In the paper examination, he scored a 98. His writing was very impressive. For his practical task, I gave him an 86. While his nonverbal use of magic is most impressive, his application and execution left much to be desired. Still, easily one of the best of my first-year students. Why?”

“What is the meaning of this unprecedented and useless interruption to our day?” Peran had reached the group. Samuel quite thought that he was avoiding eye contact with him. Astori said nothing to him, but thrust Samuel’s results at the Divination teacher then turned to the Travel teacher.

“Archmage Wembly, what scores did you award Acolyte Bragg for his examinations?”

His bewilderment all too obvious, Wembly shrugged slightly. “As Ashara says, his writing is most impressive. The only fault I could find at his level was the mistranslation of one rune used in the teleportation of other objects. I gave him a 99 in his written examination. In the practical task, he was nearly flawless. If he hadn’t stumbled but once, I believe he would have scored perfectly. As it is, I gave him a 96.”

There was another outbreak of murmuring at this from the crowd, but Samuel paid them no mind. He looked from Ashara to his results, then to Wembly and back. Underneath the mountain of crushed expectations and disappointment, he began to feel the slight stirrings of hope.

“Master Astori!” Lucian said loudly. “What is the meaning of this-”

Astori interrupted him, an action that drew gasps from many people in the room. From what Samuel knew, this was a grave insult to offer an Archmage, and could likely result in his dismissal from the College. Astori seemed to be so fueled by anger, however, that he did not care.

“Well, in regards to Acolyte Bragg’s examinations in Transmutation, I noticed similar results. His written paper was exceptional. Easily a perfect score. I’ve never graded one like it, even amongst my higher-rank pupils. His practical task, which wasn’t explained to him in the slightest, he passed in less than three minutes. He could have been more efficient with his use of mana, but he tackled problems that even I struggle with from time to time, and he passed. 94 points!”

Seemingly of its own accord, the crowd gasped at this. Samuel couldn’t help, under the crushing weight of his own dread and apprehension, to feel a little pleased. Surely that was an accomplishment on its own. Astori was known for his challenging tests and strict rulings.

“Master Astori!” Lucian said again, practically shouting now. But Astori raised his own voice to drown him out, and his next sentence echoed throughout the hall as if thunder had struck the building.

“Which means Samuel Bragg achieved an average score of 96!” He bellowed. “That should have earned him the highest score out of all of our first-years, and the highest scorer for the entire College this year!”

Blank confusion spread across all faces in the hall now, as they tried to understand why Astori should be so angry about such a thing. His prized pupil, only a first-year, had accomplished something that he himself hadn’t managed and was to be honored beyond all recognition by the college.

“Then why wasn’t that listed on my parchment?” Samuel finally said into the ringing silence, regaining his voice. “Why was it full of zeros?”

“It is full of zeroes,” Master Astori said, making an obvious effort to rein in his fury and turning to Samuel. “Because the Archmage responsible for your has marked you down in each subject, for a reason that only he can comprehend.”

It was then, as every eye, from the lowest Peon to the oldest Master, turned in their seats to stare at the Archmage of Knowledge, Lucian Peran, that Samuel understood.