by Sever Bronny
Meeting Up
“They’re back they’re back they’re back!” Devon squealed upon spotting Mrs. Stone, Augum, Bridget, Leera, Haylee, Leland and Jengo teleport in by the fountain in front of the castle. He ran over with flailing arms, dressed in an ill-fitting but fine cream doublet and tan pants. “Everybody’s very anxious, especially the Master of Festivities, Lord Bowlander,” he puffed. “Speaking of whom, Bridget, he wishes to see you straight away.” Then his voice lowered conspiratorially as his eyes bulged. “You’re not going to believe it, but a whole bunch of warlock students from the academy are here!”
Augum exchanged giddy looks with his friends.
“The preparations are well under way. Lord Bowlander was frightfully behind, but with Ms. Terse’s help, all looks to be in order and on time. Wait till you see the food, and there’s a bagpiper here too!”
Augum glanced around at the colorful cloth streamers hanging on the stone garden walls, gleaming in the late afternoon sun; at the multitudes of torches embedded into the ground; at the Milham villagers, all wearing their finest clothing, some bowing in their direction and calling out praises, greetings and blessings. A thrill ran through his being. This was it! A traditional Advancement Ceremony!
“The festivities are going to take place in two hours in the bailey behind the castle,” Devon went on. “The girls are to quickly report to an—” He dug out a scrap of parchment. “—Elizabeth Beaumont the Third, and the boys to an Isaac Fleiszmann. No idea what about though.”
Mrs. Stone grunted knowingly. When they turned to her, they only received a small but mischievous smile.
“And Mrs. Stone, Mrs. Hawthorne would like a word when you have a moment.”
“Yes, yes. Please take Leland to his father, I am sure he is most anxious for his son.”
Leland moaned as Devon took his hand. Just then, a group of warlock teenagers appeared from around the battlement. But instead of being dressed in necrophyte robes, they were each dressed in colorful apprentice robes with academy crests. They were immaculately groomed, the girls with delicately made-up faces and pinned up hair, and the boys with smartly parted hair … or at least combed. With the exception of the usually sullen Cry Slimwealth, all were beaming, jostling with giddiness, and glancing about the grounds, pointing this way and that.
“I shall leave you younglings to it,” Mrs. Stone said with a small chuckle.
The trio, Haylee and Jengo stood awkwardly as Mrs. Stone, Devon and Leland departed.
“Not a bad little house you have here, Prince Augum,” bad boy Brandon Summers said with an approving nod at Castle Arinthian. “Heard you’re going to be castellan.” He wasn’t wearing his bandana, but instead had a small ear piercing in the shape of a clear orb that flashed in the torchlight. He was dressed in the same royal blue robe as the trio, except his was immaculately clean and had the academy crest, whereas theirs showed signs of battle and had loose threads.
“Still have some months to go before that,” Augum replied.
Brandon nodded, turning his attention to Bridget. “Hey,” he said, smiling.
Her cheeks reddened. “Hey.”
“What’s with the painting?” The freckle-afflicted Isaac asked, pointing at the framed canvas leaning against Augum’s leg. “Who is it and why’s it so dirty?” He was the only one who seemed to have made no attempt at curbing his hair, probably because it was very curly.
“Read the inscription,” Leera said, gesturing for Augum to hold it up.
They crowded in close. There quickly came gasps followed by a series of Oohs and Awws.
“Going to get it cleaned up and hung in the castle foyer,” Augum said.
“Hey, want see neat spell?” Bogdan Szczepanski said in his harsh accent. He was the only one wearing a royal amber robe. Augum suspected it was the academy robe color for the 8th degree.
“Sure, I guess,” Augum replied uncertainly.
“Watch this,” Alyssa Fairweather said, arms folded across her chest. “I’ve seen him do this before to an old buried statue.” The shaved part of her head had been neatly re-shaved, and the dreadlock part was sprinkled with glitter dust and spiked with colorful flowers, softly accenting her fine ebony skin.
They looked on as Bogdan splayed a hand over the painting while eight rings of fire burst around his arm. “Toitus mundi.” Strips of dirt began evaporating as he slowly trawled over the painting.
Alyssa winced, piercings flashing in the torchlight. “Careful now, Bogs, it’s fragile …”
Bogdan was frowning with concentration. “There. Done.”
A new round of Oohs and Awws was taken up.
“Mrs. Stone looks positively radiant,” Bridget said.
“What a pretty golden robe,” cooed Mary Martel, blonde hair done up in a prim and proper bun. She wore almost no makeup, except for a light blush on her pale cheeks.
“Seems like a useful spell,” Haylee said.
“Uh, that’s why it’s usually a spell for servants?” Elizabeth said, the remark drawing a few snickers.
“Oh, right.”
“Prince Augum,” Olaf said. “Has a heck of a ring to it, don’t you think?”
Elizabeth raised her nose. “Prince Augum is most certainly aware the title is not official until the Solian council of elders approves it.”
“Council disbanded by Legion,” Bogdan said. “And I guarantee once council reconvene, Augum be true prince. Guarantee.” Bogdan gave a firm nod after each sentence as if delivering a headbutt. “And Princess Bridget. Guarantee. Princess Leera too. Guarantee.”
“He already has the castle,” Brandon said. “Imagine the parties …”
“I heard they want you to take the throne,” a quiet and sniveling voice said. Augum saw Cry Slimwealth slinking among the crowd, a displeased look on his face. His usually unruly hair had seemingly encountered a comb. “That’ll go down well amongst the nobles. The son of a serial murderer taking the throne.”
“Shut up, Fry Himself,” Brandon snapped. “You’re such a drag. Why did you even come?”
“Please, Brandon, don’t be so cruel,” Bridget said in kind tones, which made Brandon’s cheeks redden.
“I don’t need you sticking up for me,” Cry snapped at a surprised Bridget. “I can handle myself, thank you very much. Summers is an idiot with a brain half the size of a peanut.”
Oddly specific, Augum thought.
“Excuse me, what happened to Hallowed Trust?” the tiny Kiwi Kaisan asked before Brandon could reply. Her long black hair was done up in a neat sequence of pinned curls. She was frowning at Cry, almond eyes narrowed with distrust.
Augum vaguely recalled that Hallowed Trust meant that even bitter enemies ceased fighting for the day of an Advancement Ceremony, and sometimes joined together to feast and celebrate.
Cry shrugged. “Barbaric traditions. All of this is barbaric, as barbaric as that Henawa moping about the grounds pretending he belongs amongst us.”
This caused a fury of condemnations from the trio and Haylee, the last of whom looked positively murderous.
“I haven’t met him,” Olaf said with raised hands to calm them all down, “but I have no doubt he could crush you with two fingers, Fry. Anyone here could, even Garryk.”
Garryk adjusted his spectacles as he glanced about uncertainly, face reddening scarlet, a declaration that he’d much rather stay out of this.
“That’s what you think,” Cry grumbled, hands in his pockets.
“Can you please just be kind today, Cry?” Laudine Cooper pleaded. Her pinned pixie cut, combined with her dimpled cheeks, gave her the appearance of a sparrow.
Cry shrugged, muttering, “Whatever. See you all later.” And he stomped off.
“Good riddance,” someone muttered.
Elizabeth looked Bridget, Haylee and Leera up and down. “Those are absolutely filthy, where have you been, a hog’s den?”
“6th degree Trainer,” Haylee replied, flipping her hand in a You know how it goes over
there gesture.
Elizabeth gave her a mildly cool look. “A lady needs to look proper at all times—”
“—Haylee,” came a voice. The students parted to allow Chaska to awkwardly walk over. He was wearing a fine Henawa snow-wolf pelt around his shoulders, with his Henawa war shirt underneath, a bow and quiver slung on his back. His milky hair, matching his milky skin, was perfectly straight and washed, and now went down to his chin.
Elizabeth gave him a slow once-over with her eyes. “So you’re him.”
“Sorry?” He glanced around nervously before clearing his throat. “Haylee, did you want to come with me to the new shop and—”
“She’s coming with us,” Elizabeth said. “It’s sacred warlock tradition.”
Chaska’s face fell. “Oh.”
“And Chaska’s coming with us,” Augum said, raising his chin.
“Uh, sorry, Augum,” hulking Olaf said as he scratched the back of his trimmed blonde hair. “No Ordinaries allowed in the pre-ceremony traditions.”
“He’s coming,” Augum repeated, smacking Olaf’s beefy arm in a friendly manner. “Or you all can get the hell off my land.”
This relieved the tension immediately and sent a round of laughter through the group.
“Well that settles that,” Brandon said, chortling.
Elizabeth seemed to ignore the remark as her gaze returned to the girls’ dirty robes. “Luckily, you might just earn something better than those rags. All three of you are coming with us,” she said to Haylee, Bridget and Leera as the student girls in her squad looked on with mischievous lip bites.
“And you three are coming with us,” Isaac said, pointing at Augum, Jengo and Chaska with three fingers. He slowly rubbed his hands together. “We’ve got plans for you …”
Three Sacred Tests
All the candidates who had passed their degree tests were made to put on blindfolds, which included Jengo, Augum, Garryk, Bridget, Haylee, Leera, and Laudine. The painting of Mrs. Stone was taken from Augum, with assurance it would be taken to his room. Meanwhile, Brandon sorely grumbled that he wasn’t going to advance with them.
“Instead of test degree, you tested Hawthorne,” Bogdan said, tying Augum’s blindfold and checking to make sure he couldn’t see. “Should know better.”
“Brandon already regrets it enough, Bogs,” Alyssa said, tying Leera’s blindfold. “Needn’t rub it in.”
“All right, candidates, march!” Elizabeth said. Augum then heard the girls being giddily whisked away.
“Guess she’s going to explain the rules later,” Isaac muttered. “Right, line them up.”
Augum was guided to stand in a line.
“Candidates, you are to refer to any non-candidate as sir,” Isaac went on. “Failure to do so will result in a reprimand. You are not to speak unless spoken to and will do as you’re told. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir!” they called out laughingly. This was silly, Augum thought, but exciting as well. He imagined the villagers looking on as their supposed prince was standing blindfolded in front of the castle.
“Now take the hand of a brother and allow them to lead you in sacred trust.”
Augum felt a cool hand take his and allowed himself to be led away.
“So, uh, what’s this all about?” Jengo asked.
The line immediately stopped as Isaac’s voice barked out, “You were not addressed, Candidate! On your hands and give me ten!”
“Ten? Ten what?”
“You were not asked to speak, Candidate!” It was Brandon barking now. “And you failed to say ‘sir’! On your hands and give us twenty push-ups! Now, Candidate!”
Augum heard Jengo gulp before dropping to the ground and groaning through twenty push-ups.
“Onwards, brothers!” Isaac called after he finished.
Augum heard the sound of their footsteps change as they entered the castle vestibule. The doors had all been propped open for the festivities. He heard people coming and going, and many hushed excited whispers, but no one, thankfully, greeted Augum by his title. Last thing he wanted was attention right then.
Their footsteps echoed in the foyer as the candidates were led upstairs. Augum counted the sets of stairs and turns, guessing they came to the third floor. His palm sweated and he felt awkward for the boy holding it.
The group strode down a hallway, stopping before a door. “Shyneo,” someone whispered, followed by, “Entarro,” and the door opened. Some of the boys gasped at the sight before them. At first Augum thought it was the grand dining room, with the long dining table and ornate king and queen’s chairs, but then he heard the echo of their footsteps as if they were in a large polished hall. Suddenly he realized they had entered one of the places he had always wanted to explore—the throne room, also known as the Hall of Ceremony! He almost cursed at the fact that he was blindfolded at the moment.
“Candidates, line up!” Isaac snapped.
Augum, Jengo and Garryk jostled close together as the hands that had led them this far finally let go.
There was a moment of silence before Isaac continued in solemn tones, the words echoing in the grand chamber. “Candidate Okeke, Candidate Garroom, Candidate Stone. You have each passed your degree test, but have yet to earn the ancient privilege of wearing the traditional robe that goes with that degree, as earned by generations of academy warlocks before you. As per that tradition, you shall now undertake three sacred tests.” He paused, allowing the echoes of his voice to die and the solemn thought to settle in.
Augum could barely contain his thrumming heart. Isaac had said academy warlocks! He imagined being one of them, one of the students in the halls of the academy, proudly wearing the new robe, being one of them …
“The first of these sacred tests …” Isaac was pausing for dramatic effect now. “Is known as the Test … of Humility. You shall now each come up with …” Another tense pause, before a rapid and laughing burst. “… a four line song glorifying the ancient Academy of Arcane Arts—”
“What—?” Augum couldn’t help but blurt.
There were repeated chuckles, including that of Chaska.
“Candidate!” Olaf barked, meaty face so close to Augum’s he could smell his bad breath. “You did not say ‘sir’ nor were you asked to speak! Drop and give us twenty!”
“Yes, sir!” Augum shouted, and dropped to his hands. All that arcane training had made him lithe but strong. The group counted along. “One! Two! Three—!” all the way to “Twenty!”
“All right, Candidate Stone,” Isaac said, stepping before him as Augum huffed. “Since you sounded so eager about the sacred test presented to you, you may go first. There are two rules—the song must be four lines, and each sentence must rhyme. Is that understood, Candidate?”
“Yes, sir!” Unnameables may they strike him down then and there, Augum thought, gulping.
“You may begin, Candidate Stone.”
Augum felt his lips and throat go parchment dry. “Uh … I love the ancient academ-y,” he began singing in a voice that kept cracking and wavering, “before its might I feel like a flea—”
The students were snickering already.
“Gods, please, make it stop,” one muttered laughingly.
“He should be famous for this, not the damn arena,” another one chortled.
And of course, the laughter only increased with each horrifying verse.
“—for the students like to dance away hipocris-y—”
“Kill me now, this is cringe-inducing—”
“That didn’t even make any sense—”
“This is quite possible the worst song heard by human ears, ever—”
One more to go, Augum thought, furiously trying to come up with one last rhyme.
“—and make the stupid Legion bend the knee—!” he finished.
They clapped and hooted as Augum’s cheeks burned fiercely.
“Ha! At least he ended it well—!”
“Someone teach him about syllables—�
�
“Good job, Candidate Stone,” Isaac said. “Though those first three lines … tisk tisk, won’t be making that an anthem, that’s for sure.”
The boys chortled.
“Candidate Okeke! Have at it!”
Jengo’s was even worse, or, perhaps, it would be better to say, more hilarious …
“For sacred prawns, we be—
Drowning in the academy—
Avoiding mediocrity—
And still hating broccoli—”
This had everyone doubled over in laughter.
“Better than Candidate Stone’s by a landslide, Candidate Okeke!” Isaac declared amongst clapping and hooting. “Well done indeed. Candidate Garroom! You’ve had the most time to prepare. Let’s hear it.”
Garryk’s voice trembled even more so than Augum’s.
“We march on down the halls—
Avoiding teachers and the walls—
But when the girls throw up calls—
We only send them fireballs—”
This, of course, received rousing applause.
“Who would have thought he had it in him—”
“Wasn’t quite fair, he’s gone through these rituals before, whereas the others haven’t—”
“Excellent job nonetheless, Candidate Garroom,” Isaac declared. “You might be tiny and awkward like a bug, but that one might actually make it on some wall. All right, everyone, it’s now time for the second test. It is known as the Test … of Knowledge.”
A solemn hush befell the hall. Augum could hear him step before Jengo. “Candidate Okeke! What is the first principle of arcanery?”
“Sir, the first principle of arcanery! Spell casting is like travelling through a thick forest. Initially you have to cut a path. But the more that path is tread, the clearer it becomes!”
“Good enough,” Isaac said, stepping before Augum. “Candidate Stone! What is the second principle of arcanery?”
“Sir!” Oh no, Augum thought, drawing a blank.
“We’re waiting, Candidate Stone.”
“Sir! Uh …” At last it came to him. “Sir, the second principle of arcanery! Arcanery drains arcane stamina. The better a warlock becomes at concentration and focus, the more complex spells one is able to cast!”
