“Today is an important day, as you all well know.”

 The dean’s voice washed over the mass of assembled students,. most of whom seemed to be trying to look stately and alert in their seats. Glancing around, Samuel noticed that each student was separated into different sections based on the color of their robes. At the very back of the large hall, there was a mass of excited-looking figures clad in brown robes. These were Peons, Samuel knew, the lowest rank within the Guild and College.

 In front of the Peons, there were students who seemed slightly older, though just as fresh, wearing grey robes. It took Samuel a few seconds to remember what they were called, then he recalled it. Acolytes. These were the students who had survived the first, most grueling year of intense studying and had not been weeded out by their instructors. In front of the Acolytes were the Adepts, those in green robes who had attended the College for two years.

 Samuel knew that the third year of study was primarily to determine one’s specialty, and decide which field they would focus on in their fourth and fifth years of study. The “greens”, as they were jokingly called by the other students, were considered to be the core of the College. Unlike the ranks below, they could not graduate into the next rank until they had received permission from their chosen schools’ teachers to attend extra classes. Some students, he’d heard, could spend up to 2 years in their green robes, and graduate from the College without ever attaining higher studies or rank.

 Easily the three smallest groups were all put into one section, right at the front of the stage. Two of these groups, the red-robed Proficients, and the white-robed Masters, he knew. There less than a dozen Masters, and only eight Proficients. He recognized the one who had conducted his first test when he’d arrived at the college, the rather excitable fellow, who was talking animatedly to a Master on his left. After another second or two, Samuel recognized the Master with a start. It was Astori, his Transmutation teacher.

 Astori seemed to sense Samuel’s gaze upon him, for he turned around and made eye contact. Astori frowned slightly at him, a look of puzzlement on his face. Then the expression quickly changed to one of amusement. Samuel wasn’t sure that he liked that. Astori may have been a strict teacher, but he had a wicked sense of humor about him, and that knowing smirk didn’t bode well. Resigning himself to the fact that he’d face some unpleasantly difficult question later, Samuel sank further back into his seat among the other Peons.

 Dean Mara Peran, who was in charge of the Mage’s College as a whole, cleared her throat, the sound echoing across the quiet auditorium. “Now, as you all doubtless know, this conference marks the start of our traditional Exam Week, which will be full of grueling tests that test how far your studies have advanced.”

 A complete silence spread across the large chamber, which was filled with nervous tension. Samuel had done his research ahead of time and knew that this week would be a time of exhausting revision and tests. It was the same for every student. If they passed, they would advance to the next stage of their studies. If they failed, they would remain at the current rank. Even worse, they could be demoted or expelled if their scores were low enough.

 “As tradition dictates, we shall begin this session with the Ceremony of Expectation.” Dean Peran continued. “I now invite the teachers to come to the stage one at a time and state their expectations of you.”

 This was a relatively straightforward process. Each teacher came to the stage in turn, and spoke for some minutes about their chosen fields, much like they had done on Samuel’s first day. Then they laid out their expectations for the students who had chosen their field for further study, and what the expected the students to achieve. It was a tedious, boring time, but it was deeply ingrained in the school’s tradition, and so would not be ignored.

 Master Astori’s speech had been interesting, Samuel thought. It covered the basic requirements, albeit without a lot of the florid statements that the other teachers had given. Astori was a simple man, not given to flashy displays of power, let alone showing off his charm. But what caught Samuel’s interest most was Astori’s expectations.

 “I expect nothing of my students,” the solemn Master of Transmutation had said. “They know what their field is about, and I expect that they will set their own, rather high, bar for success.”

 A ripple of laughter had spread through the auditorium at this. It seemed that Astori, while not being an Archmage, still commanded the respect of many within the College. This clean-shaven bald man had earned his rank through hard work and skilled application, and his efforts were acknowledged. Samuel had heard some of his fellow students say that when his mother, Katelyn Astori, passed away, he was tipped to be the next Archmage of Transmutation.

 Astori caught Samuel’s eye as he resumed his seat, and that smirk once again appeared, fleeting as before. Samuel joined his peers in applauding the speech, then fell silent once more as Rachel Ashara, Grandmaster and teacher of Divination, listed her expectations of her students. Samuel was not at all surprised to see that her standards were high. Her intense and passionate personality was well-known throughout the College by now.

 Dean Peran approached the podium once more after Ashara had finished, and cleared her throat. “Now, to round off today’s ceremony, we invite the Paragons to stand forth, so their god may be represented.”

 There was a great shuffle of movement at the front and to the left as people in robes of different colors and styles stood and approached the front of the auditorium. Quite a few of them were elderly, though not all. They all bore prominent emblems on their robes, presumably of the god they served. Samuel noted that behind each of them, an apprentice raised a small banner that bore a larger version of the emblem on their robes. Somewhere near a dozen figures stood in a long line, with a foot or two of space between them. At the far right end of the line, one apprentice stood, looking confused, and holding a dark grey banner.

 A murmur of interest swept through the auditorium as more and more people became aware of the apprentice standing alone. He glanced at Dean Peran in confusion, and even she looked slightly bewildered. Then they both looked to the front of the stands, as did a great number of people, as Astori stood suddenly and spoke.

 “It seems that we forgot to inform Paragon Bragg of his duties.” He said dryly.

 “Well, where is he?” Peran demanded, her eyes gliding over to the brown-robed figures, locking onto the only figure not dressed in unison, which was Samuel. Her eyes widened slightly, and she even looked a little annoyed. Samuel wished then that he could sink through his seat and into the ground to avoid the collective gaze of students and teachers.

 Next to him, one of the Peons stuffed their fist into his mouth, trying unsuccessfully to smother laughter. Samuel didn’t even have time to throw him an angry glare, as Astori had now stood and spoken directly to another in the crowd.

“Archmage Peran, why has Paragon Bragg not been informed of his duties for the ceremony?” Astori’s voice was crisp, and he seemed to share the Dean’s annoyance. Samuel turned to follow his teacher’s gaze, finding Lucian Peran standing slowly, a frown on his face.

 “It is not my duty to inform him what is expected of him within the college. While it may be considered nearly obligatory, given the fact that I have served as Paragon of Arcana, it is not explicitly my job. I am too busy for such trivial matters.”

 Samuel almost took a step back in shock. It hadn’t been that long since he’d spoken to the Archmage of Knowledge, and he’d thought that they’d left on fairly amicable terms. But to hear Peran speak now, he was a precocious child that he couldn’t be bothered to look after. Shaking his head in bewilderment, Samuel began to sidle along the rows of brown-robed figures to the walkway in the center aisle.

 “That may be so, Archmage, but you do have a duty to keep the College and Guild’s reputation in mind.” Astori retorted while Samuel had his face down, trying to avoid tripping over anyone’s feet. “Perhaps you were, to use your own words, too busy for such trivial matters.”

 Glancing up slightly, Samuel could see that the Archmage’s face was now suffused with anger as well. It was no mystery why. Astori’s comment was nowhere near as respectful as an Archmage was used to, but Samuel couldn’t blame his teacher. The College prided itself on order and functionality, and the old wizard’s action, or lack thereof, had caused a jarring halt to the traditional ceremony.

 “Watch your words, Master Astori!” Lucian Peran practically shouted back at the Transmutation teacher. “The boy is an apprentice, like any other! How dare you make such unseemly accusations upon my character!”

 One of the Peons shifted his legs forward several inches, nearly tripping Samuel and sending him sprawling. He seized the back of a chair in front of the interrupting apprentice to right himself and glared down at the offender. The other student only grinned cheekily at him, the expression nearly hidden by the depths of his hood.

 Cretin. Grimr’s voice came out of nowhere, and Samuel glanced around to see where the cat was. He hadn’t come to the ceremony with Samuel, having claimed that listening to idiots ramble was not worth his time. Not seeing Grimr anywhere near him, Samuel responded in his mind.

 Where are you? I can’t see you. And how do you know what’s happening near me?

 Scrying magic. Grimr said dryly. I don’t have to go with you if I know you well enough. Basically, I’m in your mind, tuning into what’s happening around you.

 And of course, you only feel it necessary to speak when I’m being socially murdered. Samuel rolled his eyes, then wished he hadn’t as the Peon he’d nearly tripped over noticed and looked genuinely concerned. Or for the gods’ sake, I’m not dealing with this.

 He thought that he could hear Grimr’s laughter in the back of his head as he stood upright, and took a deep breath to focus his mind. He’d done this spell before, and he knew that it cost quite a bit of mana, but felt that it was a necessary exhaustion this time.

 “Paragon Bragg is the first student to attend this College while under Arcana’s sponsorship!” Astori snapped back. The Masters near him shifted uncomfortably, but he paid them no mind. “You are clearly jealous that he is here to take your title as representative of Arcana, and are trying to humiliate him!”

 Ignoring the two arguing mages, Samuel felt his way forward to the stage with his mana. His body remained quite stationary as his energy flashed across the gap between himself and the stage, causing several of the older students and one of the Masters to suddenly shiver as it passed over their head. Once his mana had made contact with the stage, Samuel blinked and willed himself forward. He felt a brief rushing of wind on his face and opened his eyes to find himself facing the Dean, standing in front of the banner holding the unlidded eye, the symbol of Arcana.

 In less than two seconds, Samuel had teleported the nearly four hundred feet to his destination and made a pacifying gesture to Astori and Archmage Peran. “Please forgive my lack of preparation, Dean Peran.”

The Dean snapped her eyes to Samuel, moving from the space that he’d occupied so recently. Her eyes were wider than ever now, and her mouth fell open slightly.

 “An apprentice like any other?” Astori commented, his tone calm once more. “I’d say he’s a bit advanced for his year.”

 A stunned silence filled the auditorium for a few seconds, then Astori let out a loud bellow of laughter. The sound was echoed in many places among the crowd, and the tense air dissipated in an instant. Soon there was a loud ringing of applause, but Samuel had his eyes down and failed to notice the mock bow that Astori was throwing in his direction.

 “Alright, that’s enough!” Dean Peran seemed to have gathered herself. “The representatives of our divine ancestors stand recognized. May their patrons watch over us all, and guide us to success in the coming week.”

 The applause rang out much louder now, and Samuel looked up to see every member of the crowd, from Peon to Archmage, was clapping and coming to their feet. Glancing down the line of his fellow Paragons, he noticed they too were applauding, and he hurriedly followed suit. He could see Astori throwing his head back in laughter again from the corner of his eye, and felt his face flush. His Transmutation teacher was enjoying this far too much, he thought.

 Nearly as abruptly as Samuel had teleported to the stage, people were now standing and filing out of the large auditorium. He watched them for a few minutes, wondering briefly if the rest of his time at the College would be this troublesome. He almost wanted, at that moment, to leave for the sake of journeying out to fulfill his life’s ambition of becoming a traveling author.

 “Bragg, was it?” A voice said to his right.

 Turning to see who had addressed him, he saw a tall broad-shouldered man facing him, his hand held out in greeting. There was a wide variety of runic tattoos that covered his face and what little of his arms that were visible. It was a strange visual, but surprisingly, it worked for the man. It lent him a mysterious, slightly powerful aura that Samuel found intriguing.

 “Yes,” he replied, shaking the man’s hand. “Samuel Bragg, the newest Paragon as of today.”

 The man smiled, his eyes understanding. “It takes some getting used to. I learned the hard way too. Not nearly as mortifying as what you went through, as I was prepared, but still a terrifying thing to go through. My name is Hanz Welsik, by the way.”

 Samuel released Hanz’s hand with a slight grimace. He was very strong. It reminded Samuel a bit of his old friend James the blacksmith, who also constantly forgot his own strength when he shook, or nearly crushed, your hand. Hanz noticed the wince and laughed, making an apologetic gesture. Samuel, however, had just remembered something that caused him to forget the pain in his hand almost at once.

 “Welsik?” He queried, confused. “Isn’t that the name of the Royal House of the Welsik Isles, home to the most legendary smiths in the world?”

 Hanz’s smile twitched slightly, but he kept it firmly in place as he waved a hand dismissively. “Not while I’m here, I’m afraid. I’m just Hanz Welsik while I’m a student. I don’t even work the forge much, save to make some pocket money.”

 Samuel’s eyebrows went up in spite of himself. He’d read many stories about the Welsik Isles, and the weapons and equipment that their blacksmiths made. It seemed that nearly every legendary weapon in the world was rumored to have been made there. A little deeper research had revealed tales of an extra-strong metal that only the Welsik people knew how to work, and it was this that made their craftsmanship so legendary.

 “Still, you’re a long way from home, living here in the capital of Gorteau. I expect your family misses you.”

 Welsik chuckled. “Well, I’m sure my little sister misses me, but I wouldn’t say the same for my parents or younger brother. I certainly don’t miss them. They rather disapproved of my choice to use magic in my smithing.”

 “That’s understandable, I suppose,” Samuel commented. “Everyone knows that Welsik as a country doesn’t much like magic.”

 Hanz nodded in agreement. “That’s certainly true. Why would they, when they’re already known for legendary craftsmanship? Don’t get me wrong, I love the forge, but I’ve always felt that I could improve my work even more if I learned magic.”

 Samuel let out a low whistle of amazement. He tried to remember if he’d ever heard of a blacksmith versed in magic and realized that he hadn’t. It seemed, if not an obvious idea, at least a very good one. If one were both a master blacksmith and highly skilled mage, they could make themselves a very successful life.

 “So what brought you to the College, mister Bragg?” Hanz asked.

 Samuel noticed, and appreciated, how Hanz hadn’t used his “Lord” title. “Just Samuel is fine if you don’t mind. I hadn’t really planned on joining, just seemed like an interesting idea at the time.”

 Hanz laughed again. “Let me guess. You’re insanely curious, and couldn’t help but see what it was like to study magic?”

 Samuel grinned sheepishly. “Guilty as charged. But that’s most people, right?”

 To his surprise, Hanz shook his head. “Not in the slightest. People only join the Mage’s College if they’re strongly dedicated to learning the arcane arts. They certainly don’t join on a whim.”

“I wouldn’t say that I joined on a whim. Magic is certainly interesting. It’s just that this was an excellent chance to escape my village and live a more… exciting life.”

 Hanz seemed to think on that for a few minutes as they joined the back of the crowd filing out of the auditorium. The older apprentice seemed likable enough, Samuel thought, but Samuel preferred to avoid overly friendly types, which Hanz definitely was. He didn’t have anything against such naturally joyous people but merely felt that his energies were better spent on things apart from unnecessary conversation.

 “The next week is going to be a tough one,” Hanz was continuing. “But I’m sure you know that all too well. It’s common practice to stress how serious these examinations are in the first year.”

 Samuel let out a long sigh. “Yes. I must have been warned by each teacher at least three times in the past month.”

 Hanz laughed again. “Well, you seem like you’re advanced for your year, so I doubt you’ll have much trouble. But just make sure you know, a half-hearted interest in the College will only hinder you, and could all too easily result in your failure.”