“Welcome, students of the various nations!”

Samuel’s voice rippled out over the small crowd of people gathered, all looking up at him with faintly curious expressions. Many had traveled a great distance to attend, crossing vast oceans and long stretches of wildlands to reach the equally vacant lot where the Exchange would take place. They were the best of the best, of course, for each represented school could only send up to twelve participants.

“This, as I’m sure you all know, is the forty-seventh Exchange,” Samuel said, his grin a marked contrast to the tense and expectant atmosphere around him. “Tyrman has worked long and hard to prepare these festivities for you, so that you have the perfect stage upon which to shine!”

There was a muted ripple of amusement among the crowd, particularly amongst his own students. Megan glanced sideways at the other participants sent from the Mage’s College. A five-man group of Proficients, and a trio of Journeyman students. She wondered if they also felt like something slimy was coiling its way around their stomach. Grimacing at that gruesome thought, she turned her attention back to the Archmage. Though at this event, she reminded herself, he would be attending as his more prestigious title, Prime Mage.

“I still remember the first Exchange we had,” Samuel said now, his eyes crinkled as he remembered. “That was an interesting year. As I recall, our current Alpha of Zaban earned his fame there.”

The crowd glanced sideways, several feet to Samuel’s left, to see a grizzly, unkempt man sprawled in his chair while the other nation’s heads sat in a dignified silence. He grinned as he was mentioned, his razor-sharp teeth glinting, and let out a raucous laugh that his own students matched. Despite the lazy posture, Megan could easily spot the rippling muscles that his robes failed to hide. He looked like a feral beast, kept at bay only via boredom.

“Could we move on, Prime Mage Bragg?” This came from a woman on the far left of the list of representatives. She was wearing a dark blue cloak that billowed around her, not entirely hiding the hilt of a long, slender blade that was mounted on her right hip. She had dull silver armor encasing her chest, arms, and shins. She looked more like a warrior than a mage, Megan thought.

“Eh?” Samuel seemed nonplussed, but he took the interruption in stride. “Certainly, Baroness Thunderborn.”

“Well, the run of events this year will be more or less along traditional lines,” Samuel said, much of his obvious amusement seemingly deflated. “With one exception. Whoever has the highest score out of each event will take part in an extra, brand-new competition.”

More mutters spread throughout the crowd at this, and Samuel gave the crowd a few moments to talk it through with those next to them. His own students, those that had come from Tyrman, sat silent and attentive. They had heard the rumors of an extra event for months now, so it hadn’t come as much of a shock to them. After a few minutes, the noise level died down, and Samuel continued.

“The prize for this event will also be new, and I will provide it myself. Whoever wins the final competition, I will give them an ancient weapon.”

Megan expected more mutters of surprise or even confusion. What she hadn’t counted on was shocked silence. Everyone, from the gathered students to the representatives who oversaw their education was sitting back, their jaws dropped, eyes wide. Megan was the only one who wasn’t acting like they’d just been handed the gift of immortality. What was an ancient weapon, she wondered? Was it really something so amazing that even the distinguished mages behind Samuel should be acting like eager children?

The amused grin was back on Samuel’s face now. Megan could tell that he was highly enjoying the effect he’d created. He only indulged the shocked silence for a few seconds more, then held out his hand, palm up. There was a flash of light there, and a lump of metallic material appeared there. It looked like the refined metal that went into masterwork weapons, Megan thought. Just enough for one weapon.

It was hard to tell which group of participants was more eager. The students of Tyrman and Attos, the two strongest nations, were predictably hungry at the sight of this ultra-rare chance, but the smaller schools like Zaban and Welsik were also staring at the hunk of metal as if they’d never wanted something so badly in their lives. Whatever the material was, it was clearly superior to anything they owned. Even the Nihon-Jan students, the most reserved of the bunch, were staring fixedly, their entire being focused now.

“Well, now you know what the prize is,” Samuel said, and with another flash of light, the chunk of metal was gone. “The prizes for the four events remain the same. The winners of those will receive a relic. Now, by my best estimate, we have just under four hours until the day ends. We’ll start bright and early tomorrow, so make sure to get some good food and rest. That is all.”

With a small pop, he vanished. Almost at once, the representatives, except for Thunderborn and the wild mage, got up and hurried off the stage. Their students moved quickly to confer with them, speaking in low, hurried voices. The only group left without a representative was theirs, Megan noticed. Typical that Samuel would mix things up then disappear.

“I’m going for it!” Michael said, that old flame in his eyes practically scorching in brightness. “Can you imagine if I had an ancient weapon?”

“You think you can take everyone without trouble, Ciayol?” A voice shouted from behind him. It was one of the five-man group of Proficients. “Let’s hope you’re better than you were last year.”

“Last year?” Rachel said, arching an eyebrow. “Did you participate in the Exchange last year, Michael?”

“No,” Michael said tersely. “He’s referring to my first duel.”

“He may talk a big game,” the older student said, swaggering over, “But when it comes to a real fight, he stands no chance. He gets all locked up and jittery.”

His fellows let out a raucous laugh, sounding more like a gang of donkeys than students mere months away from Masterhood. Rachel and Megan shared a look, wondering what to do. Michael was strangely silent, and Megan suspected that he was building up to a tirade. He might even challenge the students to a fight then and there, she thought. With that thought, she reached out and grabbed his upper arm, pulling him away from the group of braying upperclassmen.

“Don’t listen to them, Michael,” she began. “They’re nothing but idiots. I wouldn’t be surprised if they fail their final examination this year and get kicked out. How did they get to where they are like that? Don’t pay att-”

She stopped mid-sentence, staring at Michael’s face in shock. Now that they were out of earshot of the group, she noticed that he wasn’t actually angry. He didn’t even look bothered by their taunting. A smile, more like a maniacal grin, was spreading across his face. She took half a step back, thrown by his expression. “What is it?”

“They don’t know about all the training I went through,” Michael said. “They don’t know how strong I am.”

“So what?” She said. “That’s their fault for being so dense.”

“You don’t get it,” Michael said, shaking his head even as the grin broadened. It looked hungrier now, and she could make out a trace of his family’s famous bloodlust in the expression. “They don’t stand a chance against us, if they still believe me weak.”

That took a few minutes to sink into Megan’s mind, but as she realized the truth of the statement, a small smile crossed her face. “Sweet. And they don’t know the three of us, either. We’ll crush them.”

He nodded silently, and they both waited for Rachel and Jordan to catch up. Their friends caught the smiles on their face, and tilted their heads, but Megan waved the unspoken question away. “So tomorrow’s the day, after all. You guys ready?”

The answer was yes, of course. They’d trained until the very last day, working hard to improve their various skills. Ehran had taught them twice more, sharing valuable group skills such as rotating, keeping a tempo, folding, flanking, and accurately tracking conditions. It was thanks to the master’s teachings that she now knew how to focus on the battle while also being acutely aware of her friends’ statuses so that she could do her job as support. It wasn’t a new skill, but her knowledge of it had unlocked a new way of tracking such things.

Even now, during casual conversation, she could see their names, hit points, and overall condition on the sides of her screen in small boxes of text. It reminded her more than ever of videos she saw from online video games, where people organized entire raids with complex systems of roles, positions, and skills to support their allies.

The rest of the night was a simple affair, involving setting up their sleeping arrangements for the night. They started with making the simple tent that they were used to, but when they noticed the fine structures that students of other nations were making, they began conjuring more elaborate shelter. In the end, they had an elaborate three-room apartment with two floors and were exhausted. The Welsik students had given up moments before, settling for their two-roomed flat structure made of stone.

“Ha!” Michael said, seeing their opponents flop on the ground, defeated. He wasn’t in much better shape, with sweat pouring freely down his front. Megan, Rachel, and Jordan had left him to the petty competition after the first ten minutes, preferring to conserve their energy. Now Rachel told him, in usual fashion, to shut up, and dragged him down the stairs for the evening meal.

“We’re not cooking your food for you again,” she said warningly. “Get down here and contribute already.”

As it turned out, that wasn’t necessary. They’d just created a magical fire by which to cook when there was a small pop, and Samuel appeared out of thin air next to them. Jordan and Rachel jumped at the sudden appearance, immediately dropping into bows. Samuel was holding a large clay pot in his hands, and he set it down on their conjured table.

“Support from Mandra,” he said with a jovial grin. “She told me that it was my responsibility to feed you lot while you’re here, so she decided to take it upon herself. Oh, and here.”

He waved his hand lazily, and two water skins fell onto the table, the liquids sloshing inside. He nodded in satisfaction. “Right then. I’m going to go have dinner with my wife now. See you tomorrow.”

And he was gone again, before they’d even started saying their farewells. They stared at the spot from which he’d vanished for a few stunned seconds, then dove towards the pot. As soon as Michael yanked the lid away, the rich aroma of beef stew filled the small kitchen of their conjured house. Megan picked up the two waterskins and sniffed them. One was filled with coffee, the other tea.

The meal was just as delicious as they could have expected, and they talked happily amongst each other as they ate late into the night. It was a relief for the journey to be over and to have finally reached their destination. There was no need to set a watch here, and they were away from the stress of homework and studying. Tomorrow would be challenging, they knew, but that was tomorrow.

Megan and Michael bantered back and forth, testing each other’s knowledge on everything from Alchemy to Destruction, trying to find an edge. They were both pretty book-smart, though Megan had the edge here, whereas Michael excelled in practical magicks. Rachel and Jordan were only too happy to weigh in, posing difficult questions that trumped Megan, then Michael. In the end they both had to agree, exhausted as they were, to stop it all and go to sleep.

Megan collapsed onto her cot with a sigh, staring up at the blank gray ceiling of her simple small room. Michael and Rachel had their own rooms as well, while Jordan slept on the grassy slope just outside, as he preferred. They could hear the occasional raised voice or loud laugh from the other structures. She closed her eyes, smiling, as her drifted to this supposed purpose that she was about to undertake. Samuel had said this big event was going to happen in the near future. How soon was near? Was this the last peaceful moment she’d have?