Chapter 324 - Martial Test (Part 1)

Dark emerald zeppelins hovered above the meadow, gold hulls shimmering in the waning sunlight. The air filled with the dull hum of their rotors.

Flynn looked up when another airship circled the field. It threw off a ladder to deposit its cargo of martial applicants.

Is it the eleventh? Or the twelfth?

He had begun to lose count, unable to distinguish a new ship from one returning on a second trip. There was a damn fleet of them, ferrying thousands of candidates from the five testing grounds across Nerethi.

Everyone at Yellow…

The sheen of his new grade quickly faded in the mass of candidates. Having just turned seventeen, he fell in the middle of the age group. Martial Studies accepted youths two years older than their mage counterparts, up to nineteen.

I guess physical attributes take longer to grow than Spirit and Mind.

Wandering through the sea of applicants, cold gusts stung his face. His attention dashed among two dozen conversations for useful tidbits, while his ears and nose froze.

He stayed on the sparser fringes, closer to the woods surrounding the meadow. Towering oaks, chestnuts and pines. The size of the hunting grounds defied common sense, yet they were still within the outskirts of Nerethi.

All the riches in the world can't buy common sense. They brought us here, but can’t give us anything to warm up. Or a snack… Do they like to watch us freeze our asses off?

Flynn cupped his hands, breathing fogged vapor on them. If only he could lie on his couch back in Higharbor, wrapped in a blanket…

A sharp gust shattered that dream.

I should have brought Rain’s scarf.

Dropped here with only a numbered silver tag and instructions not to enter the woods. To think he had paid five golds to take this entrance test. Over a year of his savings—gone.

And it’s pocket change for most patricians…

Highborns and commoners stood in distinctly separate groups, though even the latter looked well off from how they dressed and spoke.

Flynn raked a hand through his hair, trying to shake the creeping sense of inadequacy. Since landing on the mainland, grand and extravagant sights had become the norm—he thought he had found his footing when Nerethi multiplied the madness tenfold.

Get it together.

Growing up in the slums of Slyspring, people expected him to live and die there, surprised every time he took a step beyond. Now that he had friends counting on him, he’d sooner stab his leg than disappoint them.

Kai would be lost without me. How could I do that to him?

Alone, his best bud might walk into a well, head among the clouds, only realizing he fell when he heard the splashing. That, or start a blood feud with every patrician at Raelion. Both sounded equally likely.

And I ain’t here freezing my butt to leave empty-handed…

The Head Shouter said the mandatory testing would end tonight. Winter days were even shorter on the mainland. At this pace, it would take place after dark. Not that he would complain.

The course-specific test varied each year. Woods were one of the most common settings, though the exact rules changed.

I’ll deal with whatever they throw.

He had only one doubt. A word he had heard patricians mention with implication he didn’t fully understand.

Flynn spun on his heel. The shallow dip of the field let him survey the ocean of heads, stretching hundreds of meters to the opposite treeline. About three thousand martial candidates passed the status check, fighting for one thousand spots.

The fastest way to clear his doubts was to ask someone directly.

No people in groups.

That excluded most applicants close to him.

And no patricians.

They were the best informed, and also the least likely to answer.

He needed someone willing to chat with a stranger, and smart enough to know the information he needed.

Following Keen Hunch, he walked up to a girl at the edge of the field. She leaned her back on a tree trunk, her scarlet hair tied in tiny braids, and pulled back with a leather headband, just a few strands escaping.

Her posture reminded him of a hunter.

She had given him a few covert glances. Whether she found him cute or was sizing up the competition, it made no difference to him.

“Hey.” Flynn stopped a meter away when he saw her stiffen, offering his hand and a quiet smile. From her wary posture, he chose not to look too eager or desperate. “I’m Flynn.”

The girl stared at his palm, but made no move to shake it.

His arm fell back to his side. Time ticked. Did he pick the wrong person?

“Hey.” She said, her voice carrying a lilting quality. “Rowan.”

Why doubt it? I’m never wrong… except when I am.

“Nice to meet you, Rowan,” Flynn kept his tone light, with the inkling that his attempts at humor would only irk her. “Are you also taking the test alone? Can we chat?”

Direct and to the point. Who can not appreciate that?

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t we already?”

Hmm… Not the easiest audience.

“Yes, we are.” He swallowed half a dozen nervous jokes. Maybe he still wasn’t straightforward enough. “Do you know what are the credits that everyone mentions?”

Rowan eyed him up and down, appraisingly. “I do.”

Great.

“Can you tell me then?” Flynn chuckled like she had made a joke. Curt people always stumbled when he took their laconic responses as amusing.

The girl crossed her arms. “Just… Why should I tell you?”

For my eternal gratitude and sparkling personality?

Flynn bit his tongue to hush the words and glanced at the sea of candidates. “Most of them are in groups already. It won’t be bad to have an ally if it’s a team test.”

“Those are rare.”

“But they’ve used them before.” He had overheard people discussing them. “It’s been a few years since the last. Who knows, this test might be the one?”

Rowan pursed her lips, spinning one of her red braids around her finger. “Even if you’re right. Someone who doesn’t know about Credits of Merit wouldn’t be much of an ally.”

Ouch! How cruel…

Biting his tongue, Flynn wore an unbothered smile. “Do you have anyone better in mind?” He looked at their sparse surroundings. “These Credits of Merit don’t sound very important for the test anyway. You’d be losing nothing with only upsides.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Don’t make me beg.

Seconds stretched before Rowan finally broke her stare. “Alright. You make a fair point… Credits are a currency and a measure of success for students at Raelion. The best performers of the winter intake will also earn some.”

Thanks.

“You mean those who earn the highest total points?” Flynn asked. The snippets he overheard without context finally started to make sense. “Are these credits very valuable?”

“Quite,” Rowan said. “First place for Martial Studies gets a hundred, scaling down for the top five hundred. And nothing below. They can buy many advantages at the academy, or pay for the tuition fee if you aren’t…” She motioned with her chin at a preening patrician. “Most importantly, they help you make it to the second year.”

Looks like I picked the right person to ask.

“You’re awfully well informed,” Flynn said. “You’re not patrician, right? Should I call you Lady Rowan?”

The girl snorted, though her bitter expression hinted at more. “Not unless you want to get stabbed. And that’s not how you’d address me if I was one anyway.” She rested her hand on her empty belt, probably where she’d usually carry a knife or sword.

I feel your pain.

Flynn raised his hands placatingly. “Just Rowan then.” She acted like a bristly stray, but he was making progress. “Do credits really matter for this test? Like we’re all trying to get the most points already.”

The reward would push even those sure to enter to do well, but it didn’t change much for him.

“It’s more important than you think.” Rowan gave him a weary shake. “The practical martial test always changes, but a few commonalities exist. Like the most common way to earn points. I’ll let you guess.”

“I don— oh, I see…” Flynn scratched his brow. More stray bits of conversations came together in his head.

“Yeah, you can often get some points by eliminating other applicants.” Rowan scrunched her nose disdainfully. “Even when it’s not optimal, it has the advantage of reducing the competition.”

Nothing is ever truly easy…

“And lemme guess. Usually, it’s patricians hunting weaker applicants?” Flynn asked. “The richer they are, the greedier…”

Rowan leaned in with a dip of her head. “You said it. Nine times out of ten, yes. They’re the strongest competitors. You must avoid the guys who are sure to pass the most. They’re the craziest ones.”

“I see. Thanks for the info,” Flynn said. He had done well clearing his doubts. “Really, I appreciate the advice.”

Beneath her brusque ways, the girl had been remarkably kind.

Rowan dismissed his thanks with a huff, looking away. “Let’s say you owe me one. Just make sure to get in.”

“Will do,” Flynn said. “But you have to do the same.”

“I’m enrolling,” she stated like a fact, her voice then dropping to a whisper. “I’ve come too far not to…”

She knew an unusual amount of details for a random applicant. The mystery intrigued him, though he could wait after the test to snoop.

I could ask—

A stifling presence curbed his curiosity, covering the entire field and drowning the chatter of three thousand voices.

“Candidates. Listen up!” A speaker thundered. The Head Shouter had arrived. “I will now explain the test.”

Damn my high Perception. Why is it always him?

Each word rang painfully in his ears.

Flynn blinked, seeing the old man literally float above the applicants and below the zeppelins. He would have laughed if his green aura wasn’t choking him, making the icy wind feel warm.

“I’m sure you’re all eager to start while there is still light.” The gray-haired man chuckled, looking at the cloudy sky. “Looks like the Moons will be covered tonight. Now, first of all.”

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. The sound echoed like the crack of a whip. Immediately, streams of lights spread to cover the sky above the meadow. A chorus of ohs and ahs rose from the crowd.

Colorful rays arranged to form a life-like picture—a map of the woods with their open meadow in the center.

They really are mad…

The woods were even larger than Flynn predicted, each hill, stream and valley meticulously painted on the sky. A gray square enclosed the greenery—probably a stone wall—with eight numbers painted, two per side.

He was memorizing the points of interest when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. A dozen examiners left the airships, positioning along the edge of the field with a crate in their hands.

What are—

“Let’s thank the Hart family for lending us one of their private hunting grounds.” The Head Shouter thinly smiled. “Your objective for this test is very simple. You must reach the exit with the same number as your plate.

“Easy, right?” He raised a silver tag to show the 1 engraved on one side. “Eight groups will be sent out five minutes apart. On your way out, you can retrieve a piece of weaponry and one light crystal from the examiners. The sooner you reach the exit, the more points you’ll earn.”

Why do I get the impression he’s lying?

Flynn took out his plate, looking at 5.

North wall, east gate…

The foreign wooded terrain complicated matters. Sizing the meadow for comparison, he’d take little over an hour to reach his destination. Probably double that in the dark. If he didn’t get lost. Because, then again—no light.

Easy my ass.

“Naturally, there are other ways to raise your scores,” the Head Shouter said. “We’ve hidden bronze, silver and gold plates in the woods. They’re worth one, three and seven points respectively. Some lay on the ground or under a rock. Others are in, let’s say… more roaming spots on two and four legs.”

Because a freezing trek in the dark was already too pleasant.

Flynn glared at the floating man.

“Three hundred upperclassmen from Martial Studies have already spread in the woods around you. If they get your plate, you’re eliminated. They won’t use skills. You just have to score a single hit to make them surrender. Their plates are basically free.”

“As for beasts. The yellow or problematic species have been removed from the grounds. You’ll only have to deal with orange and red whelps. If you still need rescue, inject mana into your plate. It’ll signal the closest examiner to come and get you. Naturally, you’ll also be eliminated.”

The Head Shouter threw the silver tag high into the air; the metal fell into two square pieces. “Speaking of your plates. They attuned to you when you took them, and they’ll break if you get too far away. So no stashing them in a hole.”

He continued explaining the rules, even mentioning credits, though he skipped the essential implications.

Flynn alternated between listening and studying the glimmering map. It wouldn’t be easy to orient himself in the dark; he didn’t know which route he might be forced to take.

“…had been wondering. Yes, you can take the plates of your fellow candidates,” the Head Shouter rumbled. “Mind that they’re only worth points if they carry your same number. If you’re in group 1, you can only earn points from other applicants in the same group.”

He showed the two silver squares in his hands. “You just need the numbered half to claim the points. An examiner will come checking when a plate breaks.” His aura flared over the meadow. “We expect you to behave with decency. If anyone is found purposefully inflicting serious injury to their peers, they’ll be eliminated. Worse will happen if you kill somebody. I don’t care if you later say it was an accident.”

The frigid presence bore down on them as if to impress the concept.

“I hope everything was clear, because I won’t repeat it. You have till dawn to reach your exit point, or we’ll come looking for you. That will also mean you’ve failed the test. If you want to drop out, stay in the field. For those who aren’t cowards, good Luck.”

Before the crowd could devolve into chaos, a whistle interrupted them.

“First group out.” A voice yelled.

Flynn turned to Rowan as the field burst into a shuffle of bodies. “Guess it’s not a team test, but they’ve not forbidden them either. What’s your number?”

The girl showed a silver tag with a 1. “First one. I must go.”

“Oh… yeah. Best of good Luck.”

“You too.” Rowan ran to an examiner to pick up her weapon.

Just me then.

Gray clouds shrouded the setting sun, casting a rusty red hue over the sky. Soon it’d be dark.

They sure know how to make a test fun.

Flynn spun the silver plate over his knuckles. His other hand ran over his sleeve and belt, where his knives should have been. He felt naked without them.

Every five minutes, another whistle sent a group into the woods like a swarm of fireflies. The field quickly emptied, making the shuffles more orderly. A few gathered in the center, unwilling to take the test.

Just got to avoid the problematic guys.

Martial Studies wasn’t prestigious enough for many ancient Houses, meaning there were only several hundred patricians to contend with instead of thousands.

Another whistle echoed.

“Fifth group out!”

Clouds shrouded the moons, leaving only crystals to illuminate the meadow while the temperature rapidly dropped. It might even rain.

What a miserable time. Hmm… maybe this will be fun after all…

Flynn joined a queue away from the mass of group 5, who picked north for the closest route. He worried the examiner might run out of specific weapons, but the crates looked spatially enchanted.

Coincidentally, he had chosen Professor Beltram’s line.

The monolith of man offered him a stick enchanted with light runes. “Good Luck. I hope to see you at Raelion.” His gravelly voice sounded sincere.

“Thanks.” Flynn wasn’t sure if he said that to everybody, but appreciated it.

Breathing out the cold air, he entered the woods armed only with two daggers and his wits.