"Alright, alright, we all make mistakes, don't we?" Despite what Froyd had expected, he presented himself modestly. One of the girls, that Froyd hadn't gotten to know, yelled yes. Froyd guessed, he might've been handsome too. He never recognized it in other men, so he wouldn't know.

"Thank you. My name is Darron Peterson, and like George, I'm a volunteer. I'm from Lione's Board of Employment, and I'm responsible for your individual performance reviews, or the relay thereof."  They'd all sucked in a breath at the news. It seemed like too much power for someone so young. 

"I've brought a gift for you all," he smiled, "also, from my branch of government." He pulled back his sleeve to reveal, a smartwatch. "The number represents a mages mana weight. Which indirectly shows his soul weight. I'm at the cusp of mage hood," He tapped the number, which was nine hundred and ninty-one. "which starts at a thousand." 

"You guys will be given a watch today, to aid in monitoring your growth over the coming year." Some of the participants seemed excited. Froyd hadn't ever heard of those watches, but he assumed they probably had trackers, or at the least, more then advertised. He'd still wear the devise, because he had nothing to hide.

The manager stood up. "Alright, then, I'll be elaborating on the danger of the first exam. I can see the Jake has culled the group. There's only really one warning I have for you guys." He went silent and as he ran his eyes over the group. "According to your elemental affinity, you've all, at some point, been chosen, and monitored by a god. Merry is the testing ground for whether you're actually worthy to serve that god."

John asked. "Exactly, what type of service, sir?"

"Most gods chose to test the individual through duels. But, this is not promised. It can something trivial, or something sacrificial, even. Depends totally on the god oversees. Unfortunately, I can only prepare you for the expected. A duel.  So, most likely you will be put up against a apprentice level aberration. The abberation will seek to kill you. He added, because a few participants, had flinched. "Of course us moderators will do our best to keep that from happening. But, please be prepared to keep yourself safe."

He said. "That is it for me. I'll be on my way." He'd looked to the group of young men beside him. "Please, moderators, control yourselves."

They'd all said ."Yes sir." And he'd left the porch and vanished into thin air. 

The first spoke loudly. "Alright, line up." 

-----------------------------------------

They had all been been assigned individual cabins. Froyd's being the last on the left. The interior was to his liking. A nice carpet, with faded blue leaves, surrounded by hand crafted furniture. It all seemed to be made with the naturally abundant wood from the forest. The interior was so quiet, he'd barely heard the buzzing of the central air just outside. The cabin had a bedroom, which was carpeted, and featured a wardrobe. He slid it open, and set about emptying his luggage.

The bathroom was in the room, too. They'd used a simple white, tile, design. He'd whistled, because of how clean it looked. After checking around, and noticing the lack of entertainment, he decided he would have to ask about that later. Froyd then set about to sharpening his falchions. He'd brought three of his swords. They were all similarly designed. A fuller ran the midsection of each blade. The  only real difference between them being the handles and pommels. The first sword's handle was red, leather, the second was blue, rope, and the third, was hot-pink, cloth. The pommels were a wooden gargoyle's head, which had been his first sword. A steel hexagon capped the second, and a diamond shaped point, topped a sword that he'd gotten as a gift, from his grandmother. 

He sharpened them meticulously into the evening. And lastly, he brought his robe out. Robes were now becoming heirlooms for Lionians. Inherited robes were only to be worn during the Maypole and other similar ceremonies and festival. They were usually from the highest ranked individual a bloodline had produced. Froyd held it up by the arms. It was dark blue. White trims ran most of the seams. Also running the chest, and stopping at the abs. The creases, where it had been folded, all faded, under it own weight. He pushed aside his clothing and made room for it. He remembered he hadn't eaten lunch. He took a quick bath, changed clothing, and made his way to the cafeteria.