The halls of the grand estate were always busy, but especially before a banquet. There was always so much to be done, and just as many people to do it. Men pushing carts filled with food, carrying large vases holding exotic flowers, women with whole wardrobes worth of clothes dangling over their arms. It was tempting to call it disorder, but everything proceeded with such careful and efficient planning that that wasn't quite right.
Still, there was so much going on that no one noticed one extra maid wandering the halls, pushing in front of her a cart of dirty dishes. And that wasn't the only thing not going according to the evening's plan.
“What do you mean she's missing?” demanded the stentorian voice of Atilda, the estate's matron and chief caretaker, from behind one of the many doors in the hall. The leader of the many servants, Atlida was as feared as she was admired. She was talking to someone, but only her voice made it through the thick mahogany of the door. “I know what it means but how did it happen? I gave you strict orders to not let her out of your sight for a second. You know she always tries to run away before the Marquis' banquets. Well find her, she couldn't have left the grounds.”
The door burst open, nearly hitting the maid who had stopped to listen, and not just one but three men emerged, all wearing the dark blues of the estate guards. They hardly even looked at the maid before splitting up to check every corner of the estate building to find the missing girl.
They wouldn't find her, the maid was sure of that. Because they had already walked right by her without noticing. Without even giving her a second look in fact. They were looking for the marquis' daughter, not a maid. But in fact the two were the very same person. The simple, unnoticeable maid was in fact Belle, the marquis' daughter. It was a position that doomed her to a life of dull parties and banquets and people who didn't care about who she was, only who her father was. It was a dreary existence from which there was no escape, at least not for long.
But her jaunts for freedom were getting longer with each try, and eventually she would get past the fence at the edge of the estate. She was learning how to manipulate her guards faster than they were learning to control her, or at least to install locks on all the doors and windows. But what had Atilda expected, assigning a young man to guard her? And one who had only just started working at the estate at that. He had actually started to blush when she told him she needed to use the restroom. He never stood a chance.
It was really Atilda's fault to begin with. If she didn't insist Belle wear such hideously frilly and pink dresses she wouldn't have to run away every time a banquet was held. And if she really didn't want Belle to escape, she would have watched her herself instead of letting the guards take care of it.
Belle's plan was flawless, perfectly thought out down to the last detail. She'd borrowed one of the maid uniforms lying around the washroom and saved dirty dishes in her room for two days beforehand to fill the cart. She had even used magic to change her appearance into that of a somewhat plain young woman with a map of freckles across her nose, green eyes and short but tidy black hair. She looked just like any other maid, and the halls were so busy with people going back and forth in preparation for the banquet that no one suspected her.
She brought the cart full of dirty dishes to the kitchen, and from there her plan was to sneak out the side entrance and make a dash for the wall ringing the estate. If she was lucky this time she would be able to get all the way over the wall before someone saw her.
Unfortunately, luck wasn't on her side. She didn't even make it out of the kitchen before getting caught.
“You there,” the head chef said, waving his knife at her as he caught her trying to sneak out the door, “what do you think you're doing?”
“I...” Belle didn't have a good answer for that. As much as she thought out her escape attempts, she was no good at thinking on her feet once things started deviating from her plan.
“You're not getting paid to stand around looking dull. If you're not doing anything, take that cart of meats into the hall.”
“But--”
“Now.”
Belle thought about making a dash for the door, but the chef was holding a knife and didn't seem hesitant about throwing it at her if she didn't do as he said. She had heard tales of his accuracy, and decided it would be better if she just obeyed. After all, her plan wasn't exactly foiled. She was just taking a detour.
A detour that led her right into Atilda's full bosom. The estate matron was standing sentry at the door, surveying everyone who entered with the eyes of a falcon. Belle knew her magic disguise wouldn't stand up to Atilda's scrutiny (after all it never did), but she was trapped in a line of service carts with no way to escape. And as had happened far too many times before, Atilda saw through her disguise and put an end to her bid for freedom.
“You there,” she bellowed, making the whole line of maids and servants tremble. Belle was still a ways from the door, so it was always possible Atilda was yelling at someone else. She clung to that fragile hope as the matron shouldered her way through the line of carts, moving more quickly than should've been possible as everyone scrambled to get out of her way.
Belle hardly had time to turn before the matron's iron grip fixed on her shoulder. “Come with me.” Belle didn't have a choice in the matter. She'd seen Atilda drag burly men off the estate by their ears before. All she could do at that point was jog alongside the matron so her shoulder didn't dislocate.
“Ow, lemme go,” Belle demanded once Atilda had dragged her into the nearest empty room.
“Why should I?” Atilda said, looking back at her captive with a sneer of disdain.. “You're just a maid, right?”
“That's...”
Atilda finally let go of Belle's shoulder, but no matter how tenderly the girl rubbed it the ghost of the matron's firm grip wouldn't vanish. Atilda snapped her fingers and Belle's illusion vanished. Her black hair suddenly grew down past her shoulders, turning a vibrant blond as it did. The freckles vanished, and her green eyes turned purple. She was no longer a maid but Belle, the marquis' daughter, dressed in a maid's uniform. “Did you really think that would work?” Atilda asked, sighing softly to herself.
“I think you gave me a bruise,” Belle pouted, rolling up the sleeve of her uniform to examine her shoulder.
“It's your own fault. Most girls your age would be thrilled to wear pretty dresses and attend banquets.”
“Because nothing's more exciting than acting like a good little doll for all my father's important friends.”
“Hush child. It isn't that bad.”
Belle stuck out her chin. “Whoever invented lace should be hung for torture.”
“Spirits, girl, what am I to do with you?” She thought for a few seconds. “Tell you what, you attend the banquet without any more fuss and I'll take you with me to the market next week.”
“You mean it? Without guards?”
Atilda nodded. “It'll be a good chance to teach you more about illusions. Your disguises could use some work.”
“Deal.”
* * *
“There has to be some mistake,” Zephyr demanded as Shaw stood tapping his foot impatiently. “I can't be paired with him.” She jabbed a finger at Trace, the unfortunate subject of their conversation.
“I told you,” Shaw said, voice filled with icy irritation, “all teams are final. The two of you will be a team. If you can't handle that then leave.”
“But why him? Anyone else would've been better.”
“He's the best match for you. The two of you balance each other.”
“How? Because I'm the strongest one here and he's the weakest?”
Trace was about to say something, but before he could Shaw cut him off. “Even if that were true, I based my decisions on tactics, not strength.”
“But he can't even use magic!”
“Which makes him a perfect partner for someone like you. Your magic is powerful, but it takes time to charge during which you're left vulnerable. You need someone who can protect you while you prepare your spells, and of all the recruits the one best suited for that is Trace. That's why I paired the two of you together. Whether you can work together or not is your problem, not mine.” With that said he walked away before Zephyr could say anything else.
“Great,” she said, stamping her foot.
By then Trace had heard enough. “Look, I know you're not exactly thrilled to be paired with me, but that's the way things are. We need to--”
Zephyr turned an angry gaze on him. “Don't lecture me. I may not be happy with the way things are, but I'm not so childish that I would let those feelings get in the way of passing this test.”
“Good. Then we need to come up with a strategy to beat Shaw.”
“I already have one,” Zephyr said with an irritated smile. “Stay out of my way. I don't need help from someone who can't even use magic.” And with that she pushed her way past him and walked away without giving Trace a chance to say anything else.
Trace didn't know why Zephyr refused so vehemently to work with him, but he did know that neither of them stood a chance of beating Shaw on their own. If she didn't want to help him come up with a plan, he would just have to think one up on his own. Unfortunately, that was harder than he thought it would be so he did the next best thing and sought advice from Simon.
He found Simon in the barracks' mess hall and told him everything. Even though they didn't have any training for the next two days before the final test, the recruits were still allowed to use the facilities. They didn't eat there since no one wanted to eat the mess hall's mush if they didn't have to, but it was a good place for the recruits to meet and discuss strategies with their new partners. Which was exactly what Trace should've been doing, but instead he was talking to Simon, who of course had already worked out a plan with his partner Jasmin.
“She won't talk to you at all?” Simon asked once Trace had summarized his situation.
“No,” Trace said. “She said to stay out of her way and let her take care of it, like that'll work. She needs my help.”
Simon nodded. “She does, but she can't admit it.”
“That doesn't make any sense.”
“Maybe not to you, but you need to consider how she was raised. You only just learned about mage classes a few weeks ago, so it doesn't mean anything to you, but she grew up in a house where class was everything. Both her parents and all of her brothers and sisters are class five mages, and all have done incredible things. She's definitely talented, but she has a big shadow to outgrow. In her mind she has to prove she's better than everyone else in her family, and she can't do that if she needs help from someone who's class zero. I'm not defending her, just thought you should know why she acts the way she does.”
“How do you know all that?” Trace asked, more to buy himself time to think over what Simon had said than anything else.
The sandy-haired boy smiled enigmatically. “I have my sources.”
“So basically we're going to fail this exam because she's too proud to accept my help?”
“Not necessarily, but it'll make it harder on both of you. She wants to prove she doesn't need your help, but at the same time she wants to pass this test even more. Every member of her family passed on their first try, she won't be the first to fail.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Hmm.” Simon leaned back in his chair. “If it were me I'd come up with a plan that's simple but effective. Something you could convey to her without actually saying it. That way once she sees she can't win on her own you can give her the option of working with you.”
“That seems a bit deceitful,” Trace said.
“Hey, it's either that or try to beat Shaw on your own. Think you can do that?”
Trace shook his head. “A simple, effective plan, huh. Any ideas?”
“If I gave you all the answers it would defeat the purpose of the test, right? Use what you know about Zephyr's abilities to try and come up with a way the two of you compliment each other. It shouldn't be too hard, you are exact opposites as far as strategy goes. Besides, you've still got two days to think about it.”
“Right.” How hard could it be to think up a strategy to take down a mage-knight captain using only his sword and a partner who wouldn't even talk to him.
As it turned out, it was very hard. The plan didn't just have to be good enough to beat Shaw, it also needed to be so simple Zephyr could understand it without him stopping to tell it to her. Just the first part was hard enough. He sat in the mess hall long after Simon had left, but nothing he could come up with seemed like it would work.
“This would be so much easier with someone else to talk to,” he said once he'd followed yet another plan to its imminent failure.
“You seem to be doing fine talking to yourself,” a voice said from in front of him. Trace jumped at the sound. He'd been staring so intently at the table that he hadn't noticed someone was standing at the far side of it. He'd thought the room was still empty.
“Liza,” Trace said, half-startled and half-embarrassed that she'd caught him talking to himself. “It's not--”
“It's fine,” she said, putting her tray on the far side of the table. She was about to sit down, but then she realized what she was doing and asked, “May I?”
“Go ahead.”
She nodded and sat down. “You look bothered.”
“You could say that.” Trace sighed. “We've got our final test in two days but my partner doesn't want anything to do with me. And unless the two of us work together we're going to fail.”
“That does sound bothersome.” Liza scooped a spoonful of mush into her mouth and shivered as she forced it down. “So you need to make your partner work with you, without knowing he's working with you?”
“Something like that. She won't listen to anything I say before the test actually starts, so I need a plan I can somehow describe without words.”
“Well if the two of you can pull something like that off then it sounds like you'll make great partners,” she said through another forced bite of mush.
“Yeah, if only I could come up with a plan that would work.”
“Sorry, I don't think I could be of much help there.”
Trace shook his head. “Don't worry, you've already done more than enough for me. Speaking of which, is there anything I could do around the inn over the next two days? We don't have any training and I feel bad that you've been letting me stay for free.”
“What about your test? Don't you need to prepare for that?”
“Maybe doing some chores will help me think.”
“If you really want to, my dad should be up at the inn. He'll be more than happy to give you something to do if you ask him.”
Trace smiled and stood up. “Thanks. I'll see you later then.”
“See you,” Liza called after him. Trace was actually looking forward to doing some chores, no matter what they might be. He wasn't the kind of person to sit in silence puzzling over problems. Things would work themselves out. If he kept himself busy, something would come to him.
Just as Liza said, her father was more than happy to put Trace to work. None of the chores were particularly hard. Some were things Trace had done before back in Withestrop, like thatching roofs and piling wood in the basement for the oven, while others were unique to cities like Vanadrin, such as cleaning out and resealing the cracks in the stone walls. It was interesting doing things he'd never done before, and he learned a lot about living in a city while he was doing it.
That said, the question of how he and Zephyr could beat Shaw was never far from his mind. He thought about it as he worked, plotting situation after situation, each of which were either too complex to convey with just a few words or too simple to actually be effective against Shaw. He worked through the whole rest of the day without coming up with a single usable idea.
For the first time since he'd arrived at the inn, Trace was able to eat with Liza and her parents and the rest of the guests that night. The food was as spectacular as always, but eating it around the big dining room table surrounded by other people only made it that much better. The only other guests were a merchant couple and their young daughter and a street performer. They were a friendly group, and since Trace had spent most of the day helping out around the inn Liza's parents were quick to dump more food on his plate whenever he took a bite, much to Liza's displeasure. It reminded him of Withestrop, of the blacksmith and his wife and the meals they used to have together.
“If he wants more he'll take it,” she said when her father tried to put half a hen on Trace's plate.
“The boy needs to eat,” her father countered with a hearty laugh. “It would've taken me two days to do all that work.”
“I'm used to it,” Trace said, graciously accepting the hen despite the fact that his stomach was already beginning to bulge. “I grew up in a farming village.”
“Your parents are farmers then?” Liza's mother asked from the other side of the table.
“Merchants, actually,” Trace corrected, “but I was raised by a blacksmith.”
“It sure would be handy to have a lad like you around,” the father said, still chuckling. “How about it? Wanna join the family?”
“Dad!”
“Just a joke honey.”
“I can help out tomorrow too if you need it,” Trace offered. “I'm not doing anything else.”
“I'd appreciate it.” And so, feeling fuller than he could ever remember being but still without any idea how he could pass his final test, Trace went to sleep.
He worked all through the next day as well, thinking all the time about how he and Zephyr could beat Shaw. His ideas were getting better, but they were still far from being doable.
As he swept the floor he considered what Simon had said the day before. He'd said that strategically he and Zephyr were complete opposites. It was true. Trace's only ability was his ability to nullify magic with his sword, while Zephyr could cast powerful magic with her silver powder. The simplest way to fight would be for Trace to guard Zephyr while she launched her best magic at Shaw, but that wouldn't work. Even if Shaw couldn't stop Zephyr from casting her spells because of Trace's intervention, he could still dodge her attacks.
On the other side Trace could charge in and try and take out Shaw with his sword while Zephyr attacked from afar. That plan didn't have any better chance of success. Trace knew he couldn't take Shaw by himself, and that plan left Zephyr completely open so she'd never get a chance to finish a spell.
What he needed was a way to surprise Shaw, to catch him off guard. He knew that much, but the details of how to do it eluded him.
As he thought he finished sweeping and moved on to his next chore: organizing the storage closet. It was filled with a loose collection brooms, mops, rags and other cleaning supplies held in leather flagons. In a pile in the back was a collection of pouches, mostly canvas but with one or two leather ones mixed in. Looking at them, Trace thought the leather ones looked just like the pouch Zephyr kept her magic powder in.
From that thought, an idea blossomed in his mind. He didn't know whether it would work or not, but it was the best one he'd come up with yet. Leaving the storage closet still unorganized, he ran off to find Liza's father and ask if he could borrow one of the pouches.
* * *
The eight recruits gathered a few hours before noon in the middle of the largest training field. A crowd of gray-uniformed spectators lined the far side of the field, all eager to see the recruits face their final challenge before becoming full-fledged mage-knights. Trace strained his eyes to see if Liza was among them, but there was no way he could tell from that distance.
Deep down all eight of the recruits were nervous, but none of them let it show. Some, like Zephyr and Jaden, had an easier time hiding their nerves than others. Trace was still the only one wearing leathers while the rest of them wore cotton or silk, clothes that were light and didn't restrict their movement. Shaw had said they could use anything they wanted in the challenge, and some of them had taken advantage of that. Most noticeably Jaden and his partner Garret were holding three long metal poles between them, but Trace noticed Jasmin and Cassie wearing charms and amulets they'd never donned before.
Trace found his place between Zephyr, who didn't so much as look at him, and Simon who offered him a sympathetic smile. “You ready?” Trace asked Zephyr, leaning over so he could whisper to her. Shaw was standing in front of the line of recruits looking as severe as always.
“Just stay out of the way,” she said, still refusing to look at him.
“Right,” Trace said through a sigh, though he had no intention of obeying her.
Shaw waited a few minutes until the recruits settled down. “You know why you're here,” he said, staring coldly at each one of them in turn. “This test is to determine whether you can handle yourselves effectively as a team. In the field you will often be outnumbered and outmatched. In those times, only your teamwork will keep you alive. We go until one side can't fight anymore, for whatever reason. I won't hold back, so show me everything you've learned over the past weeks. Now, who wants to go first?”
Without consulting Trace, Zephyr stepped forward. Trace followed just a second later. “Fine,” Shaw said. “Everyone else clear the field.” They did, and a few seconds later the final test began.
Shaw didn't announce the start of the fight. He didn't need to. He took a step back, dropping into a fighting stance and his entire aura changed. He was wrapped in a murderous cold, the intensity of which shook both Trace and Zephyr. But neither of the young recruits showed any signs of backing down. Trace drew his sword and leveled it in front of him and Zephyr slipped her fingers into the silver powder in her pouch.
Trace and Zephyr were oddly synchronized in their attacks for two people who hadn't talked to one another before the start of the battle. Trace took his first step toward Shaw at the exact same time Zephyr pulled out a handful of her powder and spread it in front of her. Shaw lifted his hands and summoned twenty arrows made of ice, launching them silently at the two recruits.
Still running toward Shaw, Trace stepped in front of Zephyr, cutting down all of the arrows that would have hit her. He let the rest of them fly past harmlessly and continued his charge. Shaw didn't have time for another volley before Trace was on him, but that didn't mean he was helpless.
He dodged out of the way of Trace's sword, summoning a spike of ice out of the ground which Trace slashed, turning it back into a harmless puddle before swinging again for Shaw's stomach. The two of them circled each other, Shaw nimbly stepping out of the way of Trace's sword and Trace cutting down whatever ice weapons Shaw threw at him. All the while Zephyr stood at a distance, fuming as she poured magic into the silver cloud in front of her. And when at last her spell was ready, she released it not caring that Shaw and Trace were standing not even a foot apart from one another.
A beam of white light shot out of the silver cloud in front of her, roaring like thunder as it shot toward the two fighting in the middle of the field. As it went it tore up the grass, leaving behind a long muddy gash in the ground. Both Trace and Shaw looked up in time to see the blast coming, and while Shaw managed to get out of the way in time Trace barely managed to get his sword in front of him. The second the white light touched the edge of his blade, the whole attacked vanished like the sun behind a cloud.
“Watch what you're doing,” he demanded, looking around for Shaw after he blinked the last of the light from his eyes.
“Don't get in my way,” she countered, already spreading another cloud of dust in front of her.
Trace found Shaw running toward Zephyr and sprinted as hard as he could to catch up. Zephyr saw him coming too, but with her spell already in motion there was nothing she could do. Trace was gaining on Shaw, but the captain had too much of a head start.
Fortunately, Zephyr's spell went off before Shaw could reach her. Fifteen brown spikes shot out of the ground one after another, all aimed at impaling Shaw. It was a straight forward attack, one which Shaw could easily dodge. But it bought Trace enough time to catch up to him.
Shaw was only a few feet from Zephyr by the time Trace got him within reach of his sword. Zephyr had pulled out another handful of powder and spread it in the air in front of her. Once again, Shaw ducked out of the way of Trace's sword easily, only this time he didn't counter with any ice. As calmly as if Trace was waving a stick instead of a sword, he led Trace closer to Zephyr and the cloud of magic dust in front of her. And Trace took the bait.
With his sword in one hand, Trace slashed again at Shaw. All Shaw needed to do was duck and the blade of Trace's sword cut right through the cloud of magic in front of Zephyr. Her spell had nearly been ready, but as soon as it made contact with Trace's sword all the magic was sucked from it, turning the cloud back into a handful of harmless dust.
“Watch where you're swinging that thing,” Zephyr spat, but Trace hardly noticed what his sword had done. All of his attention was focused on Shaw, slicing at him again and again each time getting a little closer than the last.
“Then don't get in my way,” Trace grunted between swings.
“I'm in your way?” Zephyr demanded, pulling open her pouch to grab another handful of dust.
Shaw lifted his hands and summoned a massive wall of ice. It stood taller than Trace and Zephyr combined and sped toward them like a charging horse.
“Wait!” Zephyr called, fingers still in her powder pouch, but Trace's sword was already in motion. The second the tip of his sword touched Shaw's attack the wall of ice turned into a wall of water. And with its momentum still pushing it forward, it crashed down on the two recruits like a tidal wave.
Both of them were knocked off their feet but recovered quickly. “You idiot! He was expecting you to do that.” She looked into her pouch and dumped out the soggy remains of her powder. “It's all wet. Now what am I supposed to do?”
“Let me handle it,” Trace said, turning his back on her to face Shaw. “You just sit there and relax. I'll take care of everything.”
“You...” She was so angry she couldn't even finish that sentence. “You were planning this all along, weren't you?”
Just for a second Trace looked back at her and smiled. “Yeah, I was. Leave the rest to me.” He didn't look to see what her reaction was before charging back at Shaw.
Shaw lifted his hands and raised spears of ice out of the ground. Trace dodged out of the way of some, cutting down others as he ran.
“Do you really think you can beat me by yourself?” Shaw asked as Trace got closer. It was the first thing he'd said since the test began.
“I don't have much of a choice now, do I?” Trace said, finishing with a swing of his sword. He fought with everything he had, but even then he knew it wasn't enough. He was already out of breath, his shoulders and arms burning from the weight of his sword while Shaw looked completely rested. He'd said he wouldn't hold back, but Trace couldn't help but feel like the captain was just toying with him. He only moved just enough to avoid Trace's blade, and when he countered it was only with a spear of ice or a flying ice dagger. Trace would've expected much more from a mage who could summon and animate a hundred ice figures.
“Did the two of you even discuss anything before this fight?” Shaw asked between Trace's slashes. “Your attacks were uncoordinated, unplanned. You put each other in as much risk as you did me. This is by far the worst teamwork I've ever seen, so it's time you learned your lesson.”
Trace had suspected Shaw was holding back. He was right. In under a second Shaw threw thirty different attacks at Trace; balls of ice shot up from his feet, spears coming from all directions and walls speeding toward him. There was no way Trace could hit all of them with his sword though he managed to avoid anything fatal. At the end of the barrage he was still on his feet, but only barely.
He didn't even see Shaw before the captain had one hand on the hilt of Trace's sword and the other on his neck. Trace was exhausted and off-balance. He didn't stand a chance. Shaw forced him to the ground and kicked his sword away.
All the air left Trace's lungs when he hit the ground and his limbs felt like lead. He knew he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon and so did Shaw.
“With this neither of you are able to fight. You lo--”
“Guess again,” Zephyr called from where she sat a few yards away. Both her hands were pressed to the ground, surrounded by a small silver cloud. Before Shaw could react, she released her spell.
A fraction of a second later the ground beneath Shaw's feet erupted with dozens of tree roots, pulsing and interweaving as they reached up to grab him. It happened so suddenly there was no way he could avoid being swallowed by the mass of trees. The roots bound his hands and feet, suspending him a few feet off the ground. He didn't wince as they tightened around his wrists, but his fingers spasmed as their circulation was cut.
“Looks like you're the one who can't fight anymore,” she said, standing up and starting toward him. Trace rolled over and struggled to his feet. Shaw's ice had hit him harder than he'd expected and even beneath his leathers he was sore.
Despite being bound and encased in vines, Shaw smiled. “It was all an act,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else.
“Not all of it,” Trace admitted as he hobbled over to his sword.
“Regardless, I'm beaten,” Shaw said. “You've passed the test.”
Zephyr snapped her fingers and the vines retreated back into the ground. Once Shaw was free, she turned to Trace and threw a leather pouch at him, the one he'd borrowed from the inn, the same one he'd let slip out of his pocket in front of her after soaking the rest of her powder with Shaw's attack. “Where did you get this?”
Trace stuffed the pouch into his belt. “I borrowed it from a storage closet.”
She rolled her eyes. “The powder inside the pouch. Only I can make it.”
“Remember when I cut through one of your spells?” Trace asked. He didn't wait for an answer. “I scooped some of it up as it was falling.”
“And you didn't think to tell me any of this?” she demanded.
“You never gave me a chance to. Besides, your reaction needed to be genuine for it to work. He had to think you were out of the fight.”
Zephyr cycled through a number of different responses in her head before she decided he didn't deserve any of them and just stomped her foot.
“To share a plan like that without words is difficult, but it's a skill that will benefit you greatly in the field,” Shaw said, nodding toward the two of them. “It was certainly a risk, but in this case it paid off. Congratulations. As of this moment, the two of you are officially mage-knights. Now step aside and let the next group begin.”
Next Week- Chapter 6: The Beast Lurking in the Woods