I had my arms behind my back, dressed in the thick robes of an Initiate. The Speakers of the Order sat before me, all half-turned to face the Keeper. I knew what he would say, but poor manners would do little to help.

  "I'm sorry, young man, but we cannot grant you the rank of Disciple," the Keeper said. His eyes were sympathetic, and his smile placating. All it did was irritate me further.

  "I understand, honored Keeper," I replied, bowing my head to hide the scowl that came to my face. After a second, I added, "May I ask a question?"

  The Keeper raised an eyebrow, then gestured towards me with one hand.

  "If I kept this current pace," I said, "How long do you think it would take to pass these trials? Approximately."

  The older man hummed. "A difficult question...and a somewhat presumptuous one. What is there to say you would ever pass?"

  "I prefer to focus on how to achieve my goals, not whether or not I will."

  "I see. Regardless, I do not see the harm in advising you. Curiosity is crucial for any mage. If you improve as you have these last few months and master reinforcement along the way, you might pass within two years."

  Two years. Utterly unacceptable, and that was without touching the "if" that hung in the air like an executioner's blade.

  I wanted to complain, but that would do nothing. So, I bowed again and replied, "Thank you for your wisdom, honored ones."

  Ideally, I would have strode out on my own power, but they still did not trust me to wander free. So, I had to stand there and allow a Disciple to blindfold me and lead me through the halls like a prisoner. I debated telling him I had memorized the path but decided that might set the wrong tone.

  When he removed my blindfold, I found myself back at the temple's entrance. Seven or eight others, initiates one and all, stood around the room. Most wore expressions of self-doubt and anxiety, with a particularly lanky young woman having the faintest green tinge to her face.

  Strangely, Wallace was nowhere to be seen. They had taken him first, and we had discussed waiting in the entrance hall once we finished. Had he forgotten?

  Another possibility whispered in the back of my mind, and I pushed it aside as I decided to try something I had put off for weeks. I walked over to the side of the room and sat on the floor before one of the painted murals. My eyes drifted shut, and I allowed my mind to slip inward.

  Aether roiled in my core, a swirling cloud of deep green that had grown denser and larger by the day. A thin stream of power flowed into it, and a half-dozen threads cut through the air and down channels, feeding mana into my flesh in a weakened version of Arcane Body.

  It was an impressive bit of near-unconscious magic, one of the few concrete improvements I had to show for nearly a year on my own.

  My growth since leaving the Academy had been...disjointed. As a mage, I had improved in nearly every regard, but most of the secondary skills did not fit neatly together. Some of this was a consequence of poor planning, some poor luck, and some unforeseen difficulties with magic, but excuses did little to solve the problem.

  I needed to piece together healing, my sensory skills, my martial combat, and forging into something cohesive. But how?

  Forging was easy enough. I already planned to create semi-permanent weapons as a replacement for the expensive and all-too-breakable wood and steel variants. Moreover, I had several improvements planned to my armor magic, though I wanted to advance at least once more before committing to any.

  Healing, meanwhile, lay on the other extreme. I had wanted to learn more about the field to improve my strengthening magic and get hints into permanent physical augmentation. In this regard, I had succeeded to some minor extent, but was that enough? I had memorized all manner of facts and concepts. Would those go to waste?

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The rest of my talents and assorted insights fell somewhere in the middle. That puzzle cube and its idea of linking enchantments together had potential. I needed to finish incorporating Wallace's looping technique into my magic. And I still wanted to dig further into my bond with Fortunatus. But none of those things felt as pressing as the problems before me, nor did they have any obvious solutions.

  I groaned, rubbing my eyes with one hand before standing and staring up at the mural. No answer had presented itself, and no long-dead Founder had whispered forgotten wisdom in my ears. I had not expected as much, but it would have been nice for a change.

  Footsteps came up behind me, and I sensed the flicker of metal-aligned mana. I turned, finding Wallace standing just feet away from me. He wore an almost dazed look, appearing...not upset but surprised. That voice whispered a little louder, and I pushed it down as I smiled and nodded to him.

  "Welcome back," I said, "How did it go? Well, I hope?"

  "Yeah, pretty well," Wallace said, shaking his head, "How about you?"

  "Another failure, but I expected as much. They indicated I need another two years, which is unacceptable, so I want to accelerate my training as much as possible. If you can spare the time, I would love to—"

  "I passed."

  I froze, my thoughts tumbling to a halt at his words. Every woe and fear that had whispered in my head for months now cheered as if happy they had been proven right.

  After a long pause, I smiled. Envy roiled in my chest, and frustration simmered in my veins, but I felt something else. Not pride, necessarily, but close to it. Satisfaction, maybe. I could not explain why I felt that way and did not see much point in digging deeper.

  "Congratulations," I said, holding out my hand to the man, "We will need to celebrate."

  Wallace's eyebrows rose, and he glanced down at my hand. Then, he matched my smile and took it, replying, "Thanks. Bit weird, if I'm honest. I wasn't expecting to pass so early."

  Neither had I. It was too quick, even with Wallace's rapid improvement. And I caught something in his face, some flicker of discomfort there one moment and gone just as fast.

  "Well, as I said, we need to celebrate," I said, folding my arms across my chest, "And there seems no better time than the present, no?"

  Wallace shrugged. "Lead the way."

  ***

  The Order discouraged drinking and revelry as a rule. Something about dozens of mages in a small location gave them pause. But they could not, and did not, forbid it entirely. There were only a few places to buy alcohol and the like, but they existed.

  Wallace and I made our way to one such establishment. It consisted of stone tables and cushioned benches arranged around burning pits designed to grill meats, breads, and vegetables. An older man wearing Disciple robes with sleeves pushed back to his elbows wove flames through the air with the practiced grace of a puppeteer.

  The metal mage had selected something spiced that burned pleasantly on the way down, and we were halfway through our second helpings of food and drink when I found my courage.

  "At the risk of seeming nosey," I said, and Wallace looked up from his meal, "How did you pass? I think I have a handle on your skills, and, well..."

  "And I'm not much better than you," Wallace replied around a mouthful of food, "Yeah, I know. I'm ahead of you, but not by two years."

  "Exactly," I agreed, waiting for him to elaborate. Wallace seemed like he was debating on remaining silent.

  Finally, the metal mage cleared his throat, "I had a bit of a trick, I guess you could say. It's something I've been working on for a week or two now."

  "A reinforcement technique?" I guessed, recalling the hours upon hours the man had dedicated towards the skill.

  Wallace half-shrugged. "Yeah, kinda. Anyways, they decided that it was enough to induct me into the Order alongside my progress so far. I guess they think I'll get there soon enough. Lucky me, I guess."

  I felt a flash of anger and shook my head. "No."

  Wallace glanced up, and I continued, "It was thanks to your talent, hard work, and focus. Luck had nothing to do with it."

  "What's the difference?" Wallace asked, sounding almost amused by my visible annoyance.

  "For starters, luck is much less impressive," I laughed. Wallace grinned at that, and I continued, "More importantly, it takes away from what you did. Your family disowned you, and you have shown they made a mistake. You got further than they could have imagined, and you did it without their help."

  Wallace's eyebrows had risen again, and he seemed almost shocked at the heat that had crept into my voice near the end. Then, he grinned and pointed a half-eaten hunk of bread at me, replying, "Damn right, they made a mistake."

  I let out a mental sigh. My speech was not dishonest, but I had embellished a little bit. I had injected more heat into my voice than necessary and feigned frustration for the man I did not fully feel.

  The reality, distasteful as it was, was that Wallace could prove helpful. He was a better forger than me, and I had no doubt the gap between us would widen over time. If a few kind words and friendly encouragement served to keep such talent on my side, all the better.

  "Do you think this will be enough?" Wallace asked, casting a glance around at the surrounding tables. I doubted anyone else could hear us speaking without magic, but I respected his discretion.

  "It should be, yes," I replied, "But we can discuss that later. Remember, we are celebrating your successes tonight."

  Wallace gave the first genuine smile he had shown me in weeks. "You're just hoping I'll bring you along to my new home."

  "I never would dare to presume such a thing," I said, affecting an overly formal tone before adding, "But now that you mention it."

  The metal mage snorted, and we fell into a somewhat friendly conversation. There were moments of tension still, gaps that stretched just long enough to become uncomfortable, but it was as close to cordial as we had been in months.

  As the sun set, we continued to eat and drink. My thoughts grew cloudy, my head heavy, and my emotions somewhat muted. Despite that, the roiling in my stomach had returned, and with it came a strange tightness in my chest.

  Could I pass in time and earn the protection of the Order? Was my magic stagnating? Had I made a mistake leaving the Academy so early? And if so, what would I do next?

  No amount of drinking and smiling and ham-fisted attempts at friendly humor helped answer that question.

  First, if you liked (or didn't like) the story, I'd love for more comments and reviews. Writing is a learning process and I've got a lot to learn still, so any feedback helps.

  Second, I've launched a Patreon, so if you want to read a little ahead or just support me, it'd be great if you checked it out:

  Third, I've also launched a Discord if you want to ask questions or discuss this story in general: