Chapter 22

“Oh, you’re awake” Christopher said as I groaned, coming back to consciousness.

I slowly sat up, rubbing my head as it still thrummed. “What… I don’t remember falling asleep.”

Christopher nodded. “Andor carried you in last night; said you got attacked and needed some healing. How are you feeling?”

“Uh, better, I think.” I took stock of my body, breathing in and out unhindered, no longer feeling the pain from the day before. “You heard I got attacked?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “we heard the alarm and everything. We were in lock down, remember? Crazy situation. Especially that it happened during your evaluation. I told you not to go out though; bad luck you got caught back up in it.”

It took me a moment to pinpoint the misunderstanding, but I didn’t hesitate to go along with it. It certainly was better than admitting that I got strangled by my father in a cell. “Yeah.” I nodded. “Bad luck.” I looked outside and saw the dark sky, stars twinkling overhead. “What time is it?”

“It’s—” He didn’t get to finish as he was interrupted by a shrill trumpeting. That same horn blew in the background, but this morning was far less horrible to hear. Christopher didn’t bother finishing as I just grimaced, annoyed that I couldn’t go back to sleep.

I got up and dressed, taking a moment less than the other morning. I was still wearing my old shirt from before I came here. Well, perhaps not the same one, I knew it was an imitation, a mere replica, but it still left a bittersweet taste in my mouth as I dropped it into the hamper.

“Coming?” Christopher asked, snapping me out of my daze as I realized I was just standing over the basket, looking down into it.

“Yeah, one second,” I responded. I reached in and grabbed the shirt and shoved it under my pillow. A silly move, I was fully aware, but I didn’t want to let it go that easily. I didn’t know if it would come back to me.

Christopher opened the door as I came up behind him. For once, we weren’t the last ones, which was a welcome change. Instead of being rewarded with the attention of all of our peers, we instead just waited, watching as each exited their room. All of those remaining came out one at a time, even if the door opened twice, and I soon lost track of which doors were those.

“Alright, that’s everyone,” Bradey said as he turned and began to lead us down the hall.

I hadn’t been paying attention, quickly pivoting on my heel to keep up, but it felt off. I did a quick headcount and realized that, including myself, there were thirteen of us. Three missing now, I thought. I could just vaguely remember the new one, Reuben, another from Sandun, just like Tabitha. I wondered if the connection was coincidental.

Bradey led us along, again bordered by Brontus and Andor, toward the classroom. However, we took a turn down a different hall. Everyone followed along while I wondered why the divergence. Then I remembered. The run.

Amalay was again waiting for us outside. Even with the return of the rest of the mages it appeared that these four, Bradey, Brontus, Andor, and Amalay, were all assigned to us new recruits. The thought made me wonder what Scolffice’s position here was, given that he was the only one to wear a red robe, but the question just as quickly disappeared as we started running.

Sweat poured down my brow, sticking to my eyelashes as I tried to synchronize my pumping arms with wiping until I could see clearly. Just behind me, Amalay again brought the rear. Twice I heard her demonic growls yelling at two others to keep up. Purely from her voice a small part of me wondered if she would eat whoever didn’t.

“No magic!” Brontus yelled from up front.

I looked ahead and around for the offender but didn’t spot them. I had felt nothing at all just a moment earlier, or for that matter when the initial demonstrations had taken place. Only a few times could I claim to have actually felt someone using magic. The fact that at least some of the adults could unnerved me.

Wait… can the others in this group do that, too? I wondered. That would, in a way, not really be surprising. They trained since they were young children, apparently. I just showed up.

“FASTER!” came the horrible voice behind me, jolting me back to reality.

I picked up the pace but this felt like a longer run than the day before, though I then remembered that I had been taken out of it early. Looking around, some were clearly tired but overall in good enough shape for this to be lighter exercise. Only Sarah and Lucian stood out to me as panting from growing exhaustion, their upper bodies shifting from side to side as they struggled with the pace. Up ahead though I could see the front doors of the complex coming up on our left. Two laps. Please let it end with two laps, I silently prayed to the goddess of this world, desperate at this point to stop jogging. I pushed forward though, hoping to at least not be right in front of Amalay, overtaking a couple of recruits, Lucian among them, that seemed content to just keep pace.

“Alright, slow down,” Brontus called. I breathed a sigh of grateful relief, easing off of my running pace to match those around me as they came to a stop. My hand came back wet as I wiped my brow but I was clearly in the minority in that. Bradey was waiting for us by the door, again having not joined us in running, and guided us to the dining hall, the route becoming more and more familiar.

Although Scolffice had referred to it as breakfast the previous day, it seemed that the schedule going forward was planned around two meals a day. My stomach grumbled as I realized that I hadn’t eaten since the previous morning, having slept through whatever the afternoon meal had been.

The hall was much livelier than it had been the past few days, most of the long tables no longer empty as the prodigal army division dug into the food. I could smell it before we even entered, and my mouth watered from more than just an empty stomach. Our section, half of one of the tables, must have been designated for us as it was left empty for us to sit in. Up and down it was lined with food: scrambled eggs, toast, ham, and a variety of fresh fruit. The other mages chatted mirthfully, colouring the otherwise plain hall with chuckles and conversation.

We filled in, taking our seats along the table and I coincidentally found myself beside Sarah, again, and across from Lucian. I didn’t delay in filling my plate full of food, but something bugged me as I looked back and forth between the two of them. There was something about the unrelated pair that had stuck out but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it in the moment. “Hey Sarah, where are you from?”

“Hmm?” She looked up at me. “The capital, of course.”

“Not one of the training compounds?”

“Pfft!” Lucian snorted, overhearing me over the background noise. “She wouldn’t have lasted there,” he jeered.

“You either, you posh prick,” she snapped back, sticking out her tongue. “We’re both from the capital, if our last names didn’t give it away.”

I wanted to slap my forehead; that’s what had stuck out to me from the first day. They both had actual last names, rather than just ‘mage’ or an occupational title like I had been addressed. And actual names didn’t just mean they came from the capital, but from nobility. “You two seem familiar with each other. Do all nobles know each other?” I asked in a quieter tone, testing the theory. It’s not like it was a secret, but it didn’t seem to be something either of them advertised.

“Hardly,” Lucian responded. “It’s just my misfortune to have met Sarah before coming here.”

“Oh shove it!” she retorted. “Some of those in more… exclusive places know each other, since we run in the same circles. I’ll have you know I was good friends with the third prince.” A smug look broke out on her face, and I appreciated her effort to at least try not to make herself sound higher than me.

“Just the third prince? I’ll have you know that I was friends with the second prince,” Lucian countered, looking smug himself.

“Please,” Sarah chuckled, “he would be ‘friends’ with anyone who told him they were such. Andrew Crown has no backbone.”

“Careful,” Christopher halfheartedly chimed in from the other side of her, “that’s borderline treasonous.”

Sarah just rolled her eyes. “Well, not like he’d do anything about it anyways. It’s fortunate he’s not the heir apparent.”

I was pretty sure that that was most definitely even more treasonous, or at least offensive, but no one seemed to care enough to mention that.