Book 2: Chapter 9 - The Entrance Exams [Part 1]

  The Eastern Alliance vastly underestimated the depths to which a free people would resist an oppressor, and troops of the kingdom now known to be called the Republic of Arastia fought with great zeal and fervor. They knew what fate awaited every single man, woman, and child should they become a conquered people.

  With the cost in blood ever-rising as the war raged on, the leader of the Alliance, the Elven High King even offered amnesty to the Republic on the condition that they surrender their leader in chains. This was met with derision by the senate, and their envoy was sent back with a message that there would be no surrender to the savage barbarians from across the seas.

  So incensed by the refusal of what he thought was a reasonable offer of amnesty, the High King of the Elves begged once more with the Dragon Queen for aid, offering a dragon’s egg weight in precious silvery mithril. Greed sinking its claws into her reptilian heart, she commanded that flights of dragons launch into the sky and rain death and destruction on the Republic. The world would feel once more the terror of living under the shadow of the great serpents.

  Though a small nation, it was a nation of free thinkers where great strides had been made in the fields of magic. Even so, their mages, who were growing fewer, could not protect them all from the constant barrage from the skies. Desperate, the Republic sanctioned the use of a newly researched form of magic that combined dark and life energies in an aberration of the natural order. Necromancy, the art of raising the dead and bringing them back in a corrupted form of unlife.

  - On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar, circa 103 AC.

  Seraphina followed her meticulously plotted routine as if her very future depended on it, which, in a certain trivial way, it did. The night before, she had taken only a light supper, determined not to burden her mind with a heavy meal. By morning, she allowed herself just a delicate tea and a few crisp biscuits, all the while poring over her notes. Somehow, in this new world she had found herself in, every fact she had crammed into her head seemed easier to recall. She doubted even a tenth of it would linger in her memory beyond today, but that hardly mattered. Seraphina only needed it for this one test.

  The highborn Seraphina de Sariens possessed a singular talent that soared above all others: an almost unbreakable focus. Every stray worry, every nagging doubt, every plan for tomorrow or the far-off future—she locked them away in a hidden corner of her mind, banishing distraction until all that remained was the daunting prospect ahead. The Academy entrance exam loomed like an impregnable fortress in her path.

  For a duke’s daughter, avoiding the test altogether would have been a matter of course. A single recommendation, easily acquired by her father’s influence, would open the Academy’s doors without question. Even the most stubborn members of the board, sworn though they were to impartiality, recognized the importance of shaping the nation’s elite. When the most powerful ruling families wanted their children admitted, exceptions were made.

  Yet Seraphina’s pride was as much a part of her as her beating heart, and it would not allow such an easy path. She demanded true proof of her abilities. The girl suffered from a curse that afflicted many in the modern era: a need for validation. The young noblewoman studied ferociously and with a methodical precision. Pride fueled her, giving her an unyielding need to excel.

  And, the girl had the most important skill of all. She knew how to study. Not to mention, she’d had an excellent tutor.

  It was a cool morning, the skies an azure blue, and the weather generally clement for so late in season. Crossing the Academy’s inner grounds, Seraphina barely registered the gaggle of lesser nobles and merchant-born girls surrounding her. Behind them, the boys had made a separate group, still at that age where they felt uncomfortable among the opposite sex. Their excited whispers and uncertain laughter floated in the warm morning air as they tried to deal with the stress of the moment, but she paid them no heed. Her gaze swept across the manicured lawns, already turning dry in the late summer sun, and she felt a flicker of disdain. If she were in charge, the gardeners would be whipped for such a dereliction of duty. In her world, excellence was not a goal but a demand.

  They entered the exam hall through large wooden doors that swung inwards. The roof was high and arched, and light filtered through stained glass windows, making a kaleidoscope display in certain places. There were desks throughout the hall, each equidistant at six paces apart. Upon each desk were two feathered quills, two inkpots, and some blotting sand. Seraphina sneered to herself, wishing that she had even the luxury of a simple, modern ballpoint pen.

  She was assigned a seat, ignoring the slight rudeness and brusque attitude of the invigilator. Feeling that the hall had grown a little stuffy, she opened the first few top buttons of her simple dress. Rolling her shoulders first, she then stretched upwards like a cat.

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  A flicker of confusion interrupted her moment of calm before the storm. What in blazes? The thought echoed through the halls of her mind as she took in her surroundings.

  To her right, a girl with brown braids and narrow-framed glasses gave her a worried look. She vaguely reminded her of Milly. Speaking of which... Seraphina stood up again and glanced around. Ah—there she was, sitting in one of the corners, looking gloomy and worried as she checked over her quills and ink. Typical Miriam.

  In front of her maid sat another girl with dark brown hair cascading in flowing tresses in a dark dress that complemented her hair perfectly. She seemed familiar. The girl locked eyes with Seraphina and gave her a smug smile. Searching through the original Seraphina’s memories, she found a name—and an insignificant rivalry. Desdemona de Savant. A silly strumpet who had once dared to consider herself a rival of hers when they had both attended a ball in dresses the same shade of tea rose. Of course, Seraphina’s had been of superior cut—her mother had commissioned only the finest tailors in Quas.

  No doubt Desdemona had caught wind of her decision to take the test and, predictably, followed suit. How tiresome. Still, it would give her another opportunity to put the de Savant girl in her place.

  She relished the thought of taking down yet another peg or two.

  Finally, almost as an afterthought, she noticed a boy to her left with curly, mousy hair staring at her with rapt attention. Seraphina shot him a withering glare. He flinched and hurriedly looked away like a whipped cur.

  Seraphina drew a slow, steady breath, letting the quiet tension of the exam hall wash over her. A stiff official in dark robes stepped forward, distributing the first set of papers one by one down the rows. The rustle of parchment was the only sound, broken abruptly by the sharp ring of a bell. Its echo lingered like a challenge in the air, signaling to every student that it was time to begin.

  For the sake of impartiality, no one wrote their names—only numbers. It was not entirely foolproof, of course, and there were a few scattered tales of cheating in the annals of the Academy. But in general, the system worked well enough.

  Not that Seraphina needed such a subterfuge. She never had to cheat to succeed—only when she wanted to push her victories further than necessary. To truly crush someone into the ground.

  Turning over the top sheet, she found a set of Mathematica problems in a multiple-choice format. On the surface, they seemed simple, but the Academy had a cunning twist: every incorrect answer deducted double the question’s marks. Blind guessing was perilous and much worse than leaving answers blank.

  Still, Seraphina was fairly certain that even stripped of every bit of magical paraphernalia, her Luck alone might carry her through. A passing score was the least of her concerns.

  She selected a feathered quill, dipping the sharp tip into black ink. Although she could easily solve the questions in her head, Seraphina enjoyed the methodical act of writing out her work. She thought of it like a general arraying an army—orderly, strategic, and precise.

  Leaning forward, elbows perched on a desk too small for her swift notations, she systematically devoured each and every problem. The scratch of her quill filled the quiet around her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the boy next to her glancing over yet again, seemingly more captivated by her presence than his own test. She dismissed his unwelcome presence, unwilling to let it disrupt her focus.

  The problems before might have stumped most teenagers, but to Seraphina, they were child’s play—nothing like the tests she had overcome in her home country. Sure, the algebraic notation here and there was slightly different, but the underlying logic remained universal. She believed Mathematica to be one of her “weaker” subjects. However, in her world, weak though it might have been, she had never scored a paper with less than ninety-nine percent—a standard she set for herself.

  Suddenly, the bell rang again, snapping everyone to attention. Part one of the exam was over. The students were granted a brief respite, a quarter turn of the glass. But the draconic rules of the Academy meant that there was no leaving the hall beyond escorted bathroom breaks, and most definitely not talking. The hush remained thick and oppressive.

  Seraphina looked down, patting absently at the front of her gown, recalling—too late—that she’d entrusted Cornelia to Eloise’s care. Pets were strictly forbidden in exam sessions. She fanned herself with a corner of her dress, realizing how stifling the hall had grown. A lighter, more summer-appropriate outfit might have been a wiser choice of attire.

  She caught sight of the boy on her left again. His gaze lingered, this time more openly. Perhaps the blackguard was a cheater, thinking to steal her perfect answers in the next part of the exam. Narrowing her pale eyes, she shot him a glare to discourage any such mischief. He swiftly averted his gaze, directing it toward the colored glass window above them as if its patterns contained the universe’s most elusive secrets.

  Seraphina could not help a small, satisfied smile. When next the bell tolled, she would be ready to dominate the next part.