Autumn and Winter, year 566 of the Varakarian Cycle

  The next few months passed in a blur, and before he knew it winter had arrived. Despite Farad’s recommendation, he never really got beyond the level of casual acquaintance with his fellow students at the University. They had little interest in their studies, while Kharg was determined to make the most of his limited time at the Academy. He never fully integrated with the camaraderie of the entrants since he primarily attended mundane studies. And the more advanced students had no interest in mingling with the fresh ones. But before he knew it, it was time for advancement.

  The Room of Testing was imbued with an air of solemnity and anticipation when Kharg entered for his apprenticeship evaluation. The chamber held an impressive stature within the Academy, a place where the pathways of countless students had been forged and transformed over time. Sunlight slanted through the high windows, casting patterned shadows across the stone floor, setting the stage for Kharg’s test.

  Ernold the Magus sat at the head of the panel, the same kindly master who had first overseen Kharg’s entrance tests. His eyes twinkled with familiarity and encouragement as he offered Kharg a welcoming gesture. Alongside Ernold sat four initiates, their silver badges showcasing their ranks.

  Fafne, who was sitting on Kharg’s shoulder, evoked a mix of curiosity and intrigue among the examiners. The faerie dragon had become something of a talking point within the faculty, his rare and mystical nature adding an extra layer of interest to Kharg’s examination.

  The test began with an evaluation of Kharg’s elemental knowledge. He was questioned on elemental theory, where he easily surpassed the required knowledge levels thanks to his prior studies in Sitch Nar. He was then asked to perform spell incantations to demonstrate his proficiency in both applied and theoretical elemental magic. He skillfully wove simple spells from the novice-ranked lists in Aerial and Water Magic. Kharg summoned a gentle zephyr and condensed some fog. As Kharg moved on to casting more advanced spells, he exhibited proficiency in Water Combat through the water whips he conjured and lashed out with, using water drawn from the bottle at his hip. He also showcased skill in Aerial Movements by summoning a wind that allowed him to move lightly around the room. His footsteps were as light as feathers, and when he modified the weave, he could propel himself forward in strides far longer than normal.

  These spells served to highlight his versatile command of elemental forces. The mages observed intently, noting his skill with both respect and a measure of surprise. He moved to demonstrate a mastery of fire spells, summoning a roaring wall of flames before it winked out at a snap of his fingers. The panelists exchanged glances of surprise and curiosity at this. Only tangible elements were expected at this level. Here was a student who was unwilling to confine his abilities to expectations, instead stretching the interpretation of the test’s parameters. Kharg’s final spell demonstration involved Elemental Shields, where he adeptly conjured a protective barrier unseen in typical first-phase studies of intangible elements. The unexpected level of skill set prompted a ripple of hushed whispers and scribbled notes among the evaluators.

  When the elemental demonstrations were concluded, Kharg moved on to the academic portion. His examinations in mathematics and natural sciences were rigorous, designed to evaluate not only knowledge but also an understanding of advanced concepts. He handled each question with clarity, delivering structured answers that underscored his diligence and grasp of complex subjects.

  The final challenge was one of concentration, a test of endurance and focus. Kharg sat with a pile of pebbles, tasked with sorting them into specific categories while listening to an intricate story. His ability to retell the narrative flawlessly, while sorting with precision, showcased his remarkable ability to maintain focus amidst distraction, a key attribute for any aspiring apprentice.

  As the examination concluded, the mages convened briefly, their discussion peppered with satisfied nods and impressed remarks. When Ernold finally rose, it was with a smile that revealed the outcome.

  “Kharg,” he announced, his voice echoing slightly in the chamber, “your performance has not only met, but exceeded our expectations. Your command of the elements, coupled with your academic prowess and concentration, make it abundantly clear that you have earned your apprenticeship—there is no need for you to spend time as a novice.” Using an application of aerial magic, Ernold handed over a new badge to Kharg. This one was also copper but bore the Mage Guild crest etched into it, inlaid with silver.

  The acknowledgment resonated in the room as a formal bestowing of the next stage in Kharg's academic and magical journey. He thanked the panel and noticed the genuine expressions of approval from the evaluators, which further cemented his achievement. With Fafne still perched proudly, Kharg left the Room of Testing, carrying with him the promise of new challenges and opportunities as a recognized apprentice of the Academy.

  The advancement marked the end of his first term at the Academy, and with it came a rare reprieve from the steady grind of study. The week-long break coincided with the winter solstice, a time when even Varakar’s streets grew quieter under the long nights. Frost clung to every rooftop and gutter, and the air carried the mingled scents of woodsmoke and the nearby sea. His new rank brought significant changes to his daily routine. The most notable change was his newly granted permission to use magic and magical items without supervision, as well as the opportunity to study a wide range of spells he had never seen before.

  He also gained access to the Lesser Library, located on the third floor of the right wing. The library held texts on elemental theory ranging from basic all the way up to advanced levels in the tangible elements and to elementary levels in the intangible elements. But to his bitter disappointment, it held no spells. That was reserved for those with access to the Large Library on the second floor of the main tower, those of the rank of journeyman and upwards. There were parts of the Large Library that were open to the general public also for a hefty fee but the section with magical texts required special permission. Permission that was granted to journeymen and above, though journeymen were still barred from entering the magical section. They had to request the clerks to bring out specific tomes for them which they could then peruse inside the library’s study rooms.

  When the lessons ended, the students drifted away, some toward the warmth of home and others into the noise and light of taverns and celebrations. Kharg preferred the quiet, dividing his days between the Lesser Library’s shelves and the stillness of frost-bound courtyards. The solstice, he mused, would have been the perfect moment to empower a new totem, but he lacked both the energy and the spark of inspiration to attempt it. Hrafun had insisted he bring several pieces of horn and bone to serve as base materials if needed, and he had spent idle hours here and there practicing his carving, letting the familiar scrape of blade on bone keep his hands busy while his thoughts wandered.

  * * *

  When the new term began after the solstice recess, Kharg’s transition into apprenticeship came to shape every part of his days. Winter had begun to really tighten its grip on Varakar. While it was significantly colder in Sitch Nar at this time of the year, frost glittered on the window panes and snow covered the roofs and brightened the otherwise dark days that got too little time with daylight in Kharg’s mind. Like home, the salty ocean was free from ice but the proximity to the water just added a layer of humidity to the air which chilled even more.

  The transition became the fulcrum of the beginning of a dynamic and transformative chapter in his life. His new curriculum, focused on elemental magic and spells, brought both challenges and opportunities for growth. It was during his first class of the semester, one in elemental Earth that he met Ivar, Caspian, and Dagny, three individuals who would become integral to his journey.

  The class was held in one of the larger lecture halls of the left wing, its amphitheater layout ideal for the broad courses in elemental theory. Rows of benches rose steeply, filled with the hum of quills scratching and the occasional clink of glass vials as students settled in. The instructor, a sharp-eyed initiate with a knack for holding attention, launched into an overview of elemental earth’s foundational principles. He drew diagrams of crystalline lattices and mineral compositions with surprising speed on the blackboard, the chalk smacked against the board in a staccato rhythm, sounding like a woodpecker gone mad.

  Kharg sat near the middle, quill poised, trying to keep up as the initiate rattled off a string of mineral names that sounded more like curses and their corresponding binding energies. He wondered how long the board could survive such punishment. To his left, a sandy-haired young man leaned over with a grin.

  “I’m always amazed at the way he attacks that board,” the young man said in a low voice. “He lectures like he’s trying to carve runes into it with the chalk alone.” The voice was casually confident and pleasant. When Kharg looked up at him he said, “I’m Ivar, by the way.”

  “Kharg,” he replied, managing a brief smile before scribbling down the latest diagram as the initiate went to the next board and began a new diagram.

  Ivar gave a slight nod, eyes still on the blackboard, the corner of his mouth tugging upward as the initiate hacked out yet another furious diagram. Kharg bent low over his parchment, desperate to keep up with the relentless stream of mineral terms and sketches. His notes had already devolved into half-finished words and jagged lines that only vaguely resembled the jagged diagrams on the board.

  A short while later, Ivar chuckled softly and leaned toward him again. “You know… there is an easier way.”

  Kharg looked up, surprised.

  “You’ve got a bit of a reputation already,” Ivar went on, his grin widening. “What with the faerie dragon, skipping straight past entrant rank and novice training, and landing in apprentice without a single lesson here.”

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  Kharg hesitated, unsure how to respond.

  “I mean, I know you are very new here. All the new students who get stuck with Tarek for lectures go through this at first,” Ivar said. “And since you’re new, I figured I’d help you out.”

  “Please do,” Kharg said, still clutching his quill as if afraid to miss another word.

  “There isn’t a single man in this academy who can write as fast as Tarek speaks or writes,” Ivar told him wryly. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Nearly snapped my wrist last year before I gave up.” He gave Kharg a crooked grin. “Best thing you can do is give up, sit back, and just listen. After class, I’ll take you to a fellow who already has every lecture written down. He pays one of the clerks to copy his notes, then sells them quietly to anyone desperate enough to pay.”

  Kharg blinked, half-relieved and half-incredulous. “He sells notes?”

  “Exactly,” Ivar said with a grin. “Not exactly academy-approved, so it’s all kept quiet. But trust me, his copies are worth the coin—and far better than whatever you’d end up with while trying to scribble through Tarek’s rampage. The man’s made a small fortune out of Tarek’s… enthusiasm. Which is fair, because I swear our dear instructor must dream about chalk, then wake up mid-sentence and keep writing.”

  Kharg couldn’t help but laugh quietly, earning a quick glare from a student seated ahead of them. For the first time since the lecture began, he set his quill down and leaned back, letting the rapid-fire chalk strikes and Tarek’s booming voice wash over him.

  A few rows ahead, a dark-haired boy leaned toward the girl beside him, his tone dry. “Elemental earth. The art of making rocks slightly less boring.”

  The girl shot him a withering look. “You could always drop out and go back to polishing your sword, Caspian.”

  “Tempting,” Caspian murmured with a smirk. “But then who would irritate you during lectures?”

  The girl, Dagny as Kharg would soon learn, rolled her eyes and turned back to the glowing diagrams, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “insufferable.”

  When the lecture ended, Kharg gathered his notes, relieved to see Ivar already waving him over. “Come on. The food here isn’t bad if you get in before the stew pot’s been sitting too long.”

  Caspian and Dagny were waiting by the door. Caspian gave Kharg a polite nod. “New, right? You look like someone who still believes they can memorize every crystal structure.”

  “Only because I haven’t tried yet,” Kharg said, surprising himself with the quick reply.

  Dagny’s lips curved into a sly smile. “You’ll learn. By the time you’re done, you’ll wish everything was as easy as fire magic.”

  “Or as profitable as trade,” Ivar added, shouldering past with mock dignity. “Speaking of which, if any of you need a discount on exotic spices, I might know someone.”

  The four of them walked out together toward the dining hall, the first awkward barriers already beginning to crack. What started as casual conversation over lunch that day would, in time, become a friendship none of them had expected.

  * * *

  They grew closer over the next week, sharing meals in the dining hall and gathering most evenings in the apprentice dormitory’s common room, a large, timeworn space reserved for those who had passed the initiation trials. Kharg still remembered the first time he stepped inside.

  He had lingered in the doorway longer than he meant to, taken aback by how lived-in it felt. The room was far larger than he had expected, with high timbered ceilings and polished floorboards half-covered by thick woolen rugs in shades of burgundy and pine green. A pair of long couches flanked the central hearth where a steady fire crackled, giving off a scent of resin and charred oak. Overhead, oil lamps hung in wrought-iron sconces, casting a mellow amber light that glinted off the brass trim on the bookcases and table legs.

  Students lounged with their boots off and sleeves rolled up, sipping tea or leaf-brew from glazed mugs, thumbing through spell primers, or murmuring over arcane puzzles and layered game boards. The far wall was lined with tall windows overlooking the school yards, though night had turned them to mirrors. Beneath them stood an old harp no one seemed inclined to play. Everything about the space spoke of long use—from the sagging armchairs to the nicks on tabletops from dice rolls or hastily unsheathed daggers, even the faint scent of ash, ink, and melted wax that lingered beneath the woodsmoke.

  Several students looked up at the silvery faerie dragon, murmuring to one another behind raised hands. A few girls studied Kharg for a moment, their expressions hinting at curiosity or admiration, yet he remained entirely unaware.

  Kharg stood awkwardly for a moment, balancing a tray of honeyed bread, roasted chestnuts, and a few wedges of hard cheese. He had overheard that many students brought snacks here and decided to follow suit. He was about to turn away when a familiar voice broke his hesitation.

  “Oi, Silverwolf, there’s a free spot here.”

  It was Ivar, lounging barefoot near the hearth, a mug of something steaming in one hand and the beginnings of a grin on his face. He gestured to a worn armchair beside him. Next to him sat Caspian, hair tousled from training, one boot off and a book open across his knee. His usual calm, faintly amused expression lit up when he noticed Fafne circling above them.

  “Evening, noble beast,” Caspian said, lifting his cup toward the little dragon.

  Dagny sat nearby, hunched over a thick tome, ink on her fingers and a quill tucked behind her ear. She gave a distracted nod in greeting without looking up. Kharg moved to join them, carefully placing his tray on the low table between the chairs. Fafne settled on the armrest beside him, curling his tail around Kharg’s forearm as if claiming the seat. Kharg nodded in thanks and dropped into the armchair, exhaling as his shoulders relaxed for the first time all day.

  “Welcome to the real Academy,” Caspian murmured, raising his cup with a wry smile.

  Dagny snorted but didn’t glance up. “No more scullery spells and polite applause from bored instructors. Now it’s late nights, spell-burnout, and initiates who expect you to read their minds.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Ivar said, waving her off. “We get privileges now. Including access to the good bread in the kitchen. And the soft chairs, unless Caspian hoards them all again.”

  Kharg let out a breath and laughed softly. The fire crackled behind them, and Fafne chirped once before resuming his quiet vigil on the armrest. Beyond the windows, the city lights of Varakar flickered through the winter haze. And for the first time since arriving, Kharg felt something shift, a quiet sense of place, of being part of something shared.

  Over the following evenings, their bond deepened through shared meals and long conversations in the common room, where topics ranged from magical theory to the shifting politics of Varakar. Caspian’s noble upbringing lent him an air of refinement and posture that might have antagonized some, but it was balanced by his charisma and genuine interest in others. Ivar’s merchant background made him the natural storyteller, with an abundance of funny anecdotes. Dagny’s upbringing as the daughter of a mage ensured that she had her fair share of funny Academy stories and secrets while adding a layer of scholarly insight to their conversations.

  * * *

  To celebrate their newfound camaraderie, they ventured onto the snowy streets of Varakar to explore Varakar’s vibrant nightlife after Kharg’s first week as an apprentice was up. Caspian suggested a renowned tavern, The Silver Flask, which was famed for its excellent fare and boisterous atmosphere. It was located by the Old Market in the revelry district, not far from the Academy. The two-story building, its windows glowing invitingly through the frosted air, was packed with a mix of students and merchants enjoying the warmth and revelry within. The air was filled with the aroma of roasting meat and mulled wine, the hum of lively conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter or a bard’s strumming.

  Draped in his signature deep blue coat and wide-brimmed hat adorned with a white plume, Kharg stood out even among the eclectic crowd. Fafne lounged on his shoulder with an air of imperious curiosity, drawing curious glances and whispered speculations from the other patrons. Many assumed him to be one of the Academy’s eccentric mages, and a few even toasted him from afar, mistaking him for someone famous. During the course of the evening, Kharg felt a weight being lifted from his chest. He had felt lonely ever since he arrived in Varakar, though Fafne had mitigated that to a certain extent. But he found what he had yearned for since his arrival in Varakar, a warm sense of connection.

  It turned into a pleasant evening with laughter and lively storytelling. They enjoyed a feast of roasted pheasant, carrots glazed in honey, and freshly baked crusty bread, accompanied by generous servings of robust red wine. Caspian’s and Ivar’s tales became increasingly daring as the hours and glasses of wine passed, while Kharg had not had such a colorful past, and Dagny had grown up with a strict leash. As the tavern’s energy began to wind down, Caspian leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly as he broached a topic that had evidently been on his mind. “Have you all heard of the Church of Thoth?”

  Kharg raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “The god of lost magic? Or is it just magic in general?” he asked, taking a sip from his goblet.

  “I'm not sure,” Caspian admitted. “But it's gained immense popularity among the Academy's mages. Some even say visiting the temple weekly is practically mandatory if you want to keep up. They offer blessings to the faithful, blessings that are said to be particularly beneficial for mages.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard the same,” Dagny chimed in, her pale eyes bright with interest. “Apparently, the blessings sharpen your mind and make casting spells easier. It’s all anyone talks about in the halls lately.”

  The conversation paused momentarily as a server brought another round of drinks. Kharg leaned back, his mind turning over the implications. The idea of divine blessings aiding magic was intriguing, though part of him questioned how much of it was real and how much was simply a trend sweeping through the Academy.

  Ivar cleared his throat, bringing the discussion back to the church. “Did you know it was raised from the bowels of the earth in the Temple District? It’s one of the most magnificent buildings in the city now. They say the head of the church built it single-handedly over the course of a single month using geomancy.”

  Kharg blinked in surprise. “A month? That sounds… improbable.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought,” Ivar said, gesturing animatedly. “We even discussed it in one of my classes on Advanced Earth Magic Theories. The lecturer said such a feat should be impossible with any methods we know of. A structure of that size would need years of stabilization to prevent the stone from crumbling to dust.”

  The group mulled over the revelation, tossing around ideas and theories about how it could have been done. Was it divine intervention? A mastery of magic far beyond what any of them understood? Or something else entirely? The speculation added a layer of mystery to the already enigmatic church.

  “Well,” Dagny said with a small smirk as she drained her goblet, “maybe we should pay it a visit sometime and see for ourselves.”

  The suggestion was met with general agreement, though the night’s festivities had begun to weigh on them. Kharg cringed inwardly a little when he saw the tab, he could not let these outings become too regular unless he wanted to write home for more money. Splitting the bill, they stepped out into the crisp winter air, breath visible as they made their way back to the Academy. A deep gong rolled across the city from somewhere nearby, followed by two more, their tones reverberating through the cold night. Kharg felt the sound in his chest and glanced briefly toward where he thought the Diurnal Spire stood.

  “The three nightfall gongs,” Caspian murmured, pulling his cloak tighter. “Glad that’s the last set for the night. I don’t think I could stand being jolted awake again.”

  “Good,” Ivar said with a yawn. “The city’s loud enough without gongs carrying through the night.”

  “You’ll get used to them, Kharg,” Dagny chimed in with a faint grin. “Don’t listen to these two.”

  Walking beneath the clear, star-filled sky, Kharg’s thoughts lingered on Thoth’s mysteries and the deeper magic still waiting to be discovered.