Chapter 1

Asmodeas Tantalus was born to be a mage. He was the second son of one of Macedar’s oldest noble houses, and the latest scion in a paternal magical lineage that dated back to the country’s founding. His father was one of the country’s foremost experts on defensive magic, and the name of Tantalus opened many doors in certain circles.

As such, when Az - as his family insisted on calling him, to the proud Asmodeas’ chagrin - received word that he had attained a perfect score in the admissions tests for Macedar’s most prestigious magical academy, he saw it as little cause for celebration. It was simply what was expected of him. His father had arranged for private tutoring for Asmodeas since he was old enough to speak, ignoring the commonly touted belief that learning to wield one’s mana should wait until adolescence, lest one cause irreparable damage to the child’s ability. The Tantalus family believed such falsehoods were upheld by the masses to account for their own innate laziness and lack of dedication.

Az, to his father’s pleasure, reacted quite favourably to the lessons he was to endure. To his tutors he was a paragon of studiousness and delighted in learning of the many wonders of magic. His childhood was spent not with playthings and games but with lectures on the intricacies of magical theory delivered by stern old men and hours practicing exercises to develop his ability to wield and shape his own mana. While he proved to be no natural genius of magic, Asmodeas’ singular focus meant he possessed an understanding of magical theory that was well beyond his years. Frustratingly, his tutors refused to actually teach him how to develop his own magic; his father insisted that he first develop a solid foundation before experimenting with real magic, lest he harm his future growth.

At the admissions tests in Macedar, Az had joined hundreds of other hopeful applicants; scions of noble houses; who had all received similar training to him, as well as those not of noble background but whose families were wealthy enough to afford the modest attendance fees to the academy. The tests were largely written and theory based, as it was not expected for any applicants to have experience actually using magic. After the better part of a day spent writing, he had left largely disappointed; the exams were trivial; they focused more on mundane questions on natural science and history rather than magical theory.

The only magical aspect of the admissions was confirming that each applicant actually met the minimum mana quantity requirements to start learning magic; a test which involved physical contact with some sort of crafted detector. Everyone’s body matured at different rates, and the development of the spirit is no different from that of the body; some people didn’t naturally gather enough mana in their nexus - the center of their spirit - to begin to safely learn magic until their late teens. This was never in question for Az; his family had a strong magical bloodline, and he had been raised eating increasingly powerful spirit fruit to help his growing spirit accumulate mana in his nexus.

The results were released a month later, and Az’s family had been overjoyed with the news that he had been the top-scorer. For his part, he simply smiled and nodded and accepted the praise as gracefully as he could. His brother Tam had been the top-scorer in his own entrance exam many years prior. Az had long ago resolved to dispel any doubt that he was not as capable as the pride and joy of the Tantalus family; Tamran the Wardbreaker. He felt only resignation at the thought of attending the academy; if the admissions were anything to go off the classes would be starting from the very basics. He would have to look for some way to expedite his path through the academy. It grated on him that he was forced to attend such an institution to even be allowed to begin learning magic; but his father’s word was law. His father could teach him anything he needed to learn. There was one name that was synonymous with strength in Macedar above all others; Seth Tantalus, whose mana formations protected the entirety of the city from external threat, an impenetrable bulwark against attack.

Az had, of course, experimented with his magic over the years despite his father’s commands. In his experience, it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, and his father often rewarded ambition. His innate curiosity had made that an inevitability; any time he turned his attention inwards to his spirit he could see his nexus in his mind’s eye, a swirling nebula of blue light that seemed to be superimposed over a spot low in his stomach. He knew from his studies that it only appeared as such; the metaphysics of spirits was clear on that. Many particularly unscrupulous researchers had searched unsuccessfully for the nexus within the body over the years, going so far as to dissect live specimens, with or without their willingness to participate. The modern consensus was that the nexus existed in a different plane of reality; it was simply an intangible source of mana that connected in some ethereal way with the physical world within the body of a mage. A mage drew mana from their nexus, using it to fuel their techniques and strengthen their body.

Over the years Az had gained some measure of control over the mana within his body. He had learned to draw power from his nexus and circulate it through his body. The feeling was intoxicating. With mana coursing through him he felt invincible; drawing power to his limbs lent him an unnatural grace and strength, circulating that blue light to his brain sharpened his focus and helped him process information. Such exercises in directing his power exhausted him quickly; his nexus dulled and diminished in his mind’s eye and left Az feeling like he had simultaneously ran for miles and completed some difficult problem of logic or arithmetic. He knew his father maintained such body enforcement techniques constantly. One day Az would reach that level.

Az sighed as the carriage drew to a halt and a servant in the red and black of the Tantalus family drew back the door. Colin, the retainer of house Tantalus that his father had assigned to oversee much of Asmodeas’ childhood, looked suited more to the battlefield than to be waiting on a young nobleman’s son. Indeed, Colin had spent much of his youth fighting under Az’s father in the last true war between the great cities of the continent before accepting the charge to personally see to the upbringing of the next generation of the Tantalus family. In many ways, Colin had been more of a father to the boys than their actual progenitor.

“We have arrived, young master,” the man said respectfully, lowering his head to the carriage’s sole occupant.

Az forced a smile to his face and nodded; it was not Colin’s fault that his mother had insisted he make an entrance “befitting his status” to the academy.

They had left the family’s estate to much fanfare, in a mahogany carriage bearing the family’s crest and drawn by two natural spirits that took the shape of horses as dark as the night sky with flowing manes of crimson flame. The entire household staff had amassed in the courtyard to see the second son of house Tantalus embark on his journey to become a mage worthy of carrying the family name. His mother had waved him off, tears in her eyes as if he was departing for some distant battlefield. Of his father, there was no sign. The journey to the academy had taken, by Az’s estimation, somewhat less than five minutes.

“Right you are, Colin. Shall we?” Az said with forced cheer as he stepped out of the carriage, blinking against the light as his eyes adjusted to the morning’s radiance. There was a throng of people around him in the sprawling stone courtyard. He saw Colin moving to the rear of the carriage out of the corner of his eye. A cursory glance showed him that, in some cases, entire families had turned out to see their sons and daughters off. He saw embarrassed teens trying to extricate themselves from parents’ embraces and others in tears as they exchanged farewells with a mother or father. What he did not see, however, was another towering carriage carrying some spawn of the nobility to the academy grounds, nor, he noted with bitter amusement, was there another flaming horse in sight. His carriage was already attracting attention, some onlookers glanced curiously at the spectacle, while others outright glared at him. Az sighed again. His mother really understood nothing of humility. While nobles often dominated in terms of performance within the academy; here he was just another student, of the same standing as those of “common” blood that had earned the right to study here.

Indeed, looking at the other prospective young students around him, most seemed to be of middling wealth; likely the sons and daughters of merchants, craftsmen or other respectable professions. Az knew that it burned some of his fellow nobles to have to study with those of whom they perceived to be of lesser blood, but his father had always told him that often it was those born with nothing that possessed the will and drive necessary to become truly powerful mages. Nobles simply had it too easy.

Az turned his attention from the crowd around him and properly took in his surroundings for the first time. They had come to a stop in the main courtyard preceding the heart of the academy. The grounds of the academy were enclosed in a towering wall of seamless white stone that flickered with inner light. If one looked closely, the source of the light could be seen to be an uncountable number of small runes that pulsed erratically with golden light. Defensive runes carved into the stone’s surface, Az knew. His father had worked on some parts of the walls that had needed upgrading as the rigors of time did their work.

Towering over the walls themselves, was the Chancellor’s building, a vast stone monolith that seemed more akin to a noble’s estate home than a university building. Az could see a steady stream of young people carrying luggage flowing through the broad wooden doors that had been thrown open in welcome at the center of the building.

Colin returned carrying two massive rolling bags and a backpack slung over his shoulder. Az had commented that it was really quite excessive to be bringing so much with him. He could simply make the short journey home if he lacked for something at the academy, but his mother had insisted he come prepared. He had learned long ago that it was often easier to simply acquiesce to his mother’s demands rather than protest.The result was always the same either way.

Az moved forward to take the bags from Colin, grimacing at their weight.

“I can return to fetch more of your wardrobe if you would like,” Colin said, his face and tone projecting solemnity.

Az shook his head, “I think this should suffice for the first few days. I’ll be sure to send a letter home if I find myself lacking suitable finery.”

The older man nodded gravely, “As you wish. By your leave then.”

“Of course. Goodbye for now Colin,” Az gestured broadly at the surrounding crowd, “Do try to avoid crushing any peasants underfoot on your departure.”

One corner of the old soldier’s mouth twitched, but he maintained his facade of seriousness, “I shall endeavour to make it a bloodless journey. Good luck with your studies Asmodeas. Show them what it means to be a Tantalus.”

Az grimaced, “You sound like mother now. Goodbye, Colin. I’m sure you’ll be hearing whispered tales of my greatness soon enough.”

He turned to leave, and began to trudge towards the dwindling stream of students entering the Chancellor’s building. “What the hell is in these bags?” he muttered under his breath.

As he walked he pushed thoughts of his family’s expectations out of his mind, forgetting about the glares he had caught earlier. Finally, he could begin. He would soon be taking those first ponderous steps down the path of magehood. He was entering into a world of immortals and heroes.His own brother, Tam, had passed through these same gates only a handful of years before, and now he was a legend in his own right. Some of the greatest mages of the last thousand years were forged right here in Macedar’s great academy. The thought sent a thrill down his spine. His father was always fond of a particular saying; the path to the top is only wide enough for one. It was time to get to work.