The exam hall was colder than it had any right to be.
Marble walls rose high around them, dotted with arched windows that let in muted daylight but offered no view of the outside world. Rows upon rows of stone desks stretched across the room, each one already prepared with blank parchment, an inkwell, and a single feathered quill. Silent invigilators in dark robes stood motionless at the edges, like statues carved from shadow.
Lilith stepped forward calmly, her heels clicking faintly against the polished floor. She noted the seating chart spelled out in glowing letters above the far wall—names sorted alphabetically. She and Elias would be split apart.
She turned to him. "You'll be fine. Just write what you remember and don't stab your quill if it insults you."
Elias gave a short nod, eyes scanning the unfamiliar room. "You too. Don't let your pen catch fire from sheer sarcasm."
They separated with only a glance. Lilith took her assigned seat near the front row. The desk felt slightly too large for her, the air thick with anticipation. Her fingers found the edge of the parchment and smoothed it out. She inhaled deeply.
Tamsin dropped into the seat to her left with all the grace of a thrown brick.
"Why do all exam rooms feel like places where joy goes to die?" she muttered.
"You say that like the rest of the academy is joyful."
Tamsin snorted. "Fair point."
Raffin slid into the row behind them, already adjusting his quill and posture like someone who actually studied for this.
A bell rang once, sharply. A sigil flared above the instructors' heads.
"Begin."
Words appeared across the top of the parchment in deep blue ink:
Section I: Imperial History & Political Structure
1) Name and describe the four elemental councils that govern the Empire and the domains they oversee.
2) Explain the significance of the Treaty of Ashenroot.
3) Define the role of the Academy in preserving imperial stability.
Lilith's quill twitched in her hand.
She lowered her head, whispering just under her breath, "Alright... keep it clear, keep it clever."
Her pen glided into motion.
The Council of Earth, the diplomatic body, governs foreign relations and negotiations. Known for its patient and unshakable approach, it acts as the Empire's anchor in political storms.
The Council of Fire oversees all military affairs—both defense and conquest. Its members are often praised as protectors of the realm, quick to act, slow to retreat.
The Council of Air handles matters of knowledge, education, and arcane law. Composed of scholars, researchers, and judges, its decisions shape the future as much as the present.
The Council of Water leads the healing institutions and public health networks, but is also infamous for its internal volatility. While flexible and fast to adapt, it's also riddled with internal rivalries.
She paused after the final line, tapping the quill lightly against her lip. She didn't need to memorize this—she'd been raised hearing Council debates in her own manor's halls. But writing it out with precision, without sounding arrogant, required just the right tone.
Behind her, she could hear the soft scratching of quills, and somewhere to the left—Tamsin cursing under her breath.
"Who the hell remembers what year the Ashenroot nonsense happened?" she hissed. "Wasn't even born then."
"Neither were the trees," Lilith muttered, not looking up.
Tamsin chuckled quietly, then went back to her writing.
Lilith moved through the questions with practiced ease. Her tutors at the manor had drilled this information into her skull since she was five. Elias would probably struggle more—he hated dates and treaties—but he wasn't stupid. She trusted he'd hold his own.
Section II: Ethics, Policy, and Nobility Conduct
4) If granted noble authority over a border region prone to rebellion, how would you manage it?
5) A fellow noble breaks imperial law but has political protection. What steps should you take?
Lilith frowned slightly.
That was... pointed. These weren't just knowledge checks. They were measuring character. Trying to see who would toe the line and who might rock the boat.
Her answers were measured, practical—but not spineless. She advocated for fairness without bowing to corruption. For order without cruelty.
When the final bell rang forty minutes later, the blue ink on the page shimmered and vanished—absorbed into the paper by magic.
"Pens down."
The silence broke slowly. Tamsin dropped her quill with exaggerated relief. "Well. That was a delightful stroll through bureaucratic misery."
Raffin stood up carefully. "At least it wasn't a math test."
"I would've summoned fireballs out of spite," Tamsin said, stretching. "Not sure if that's allowed in ethics class."
Lilith turned in her seat to check on Elias. He was farther back, rising from his desk, brows slightly furrowed, but otherwise composed. Their eyes met across the room. He gave a short nod.
Good.
An instructor's voice echoed again. "Next, all applicants will proceed to the Magical Evaluation Chamber. Follow me."
Tamsin whistled. "Time for sparkly crystal balls and judging glares. Can't wait."
As students filed out one by one, they were guided through a wide corridor branching off into another large hall.
The group moved as one toward the next chamber—Lilith, Elias, Tamsin, and Raffin slipping into the queue of examinees entering the Evaluation Chamber. The air was heavier here, laced with the thrum of arcane energy.
At the chamber's center stood a massive crystal sphere, nearly two and a half meters tall. The flawless orb pulsed faintly with inner light, resting atop an ornate silver stand etched with ancient runes that shimmered gently like breathing starlight.
"Damn, that thing looks like it's worth more than my whole barony," Tamsin muttered beside Lilith, her eyes open wide with awe. "Bet if I touch it, I'll blow it up."
"You might actually," Raffin said dryly, adjusting the grip on the sword slung across his back. "It reacts to mana. Not mischief."
Tamsin snorted. "Same difference."
Lilith leaned down slightly toward Elias. "Now."
Elias gave a discreet nod. He slipped out of line, walking toward the professors gathered off to the side. He approached an older man with thin spectacles and greying robes, carefully tugging a sealed envelope from his coat. The golden insignia of House Silford gleamed faintly as he offered it.
The professor read the letter, eyebrows lifting slightly. After a pause, he folded it, gave Elias a subtle nod, and gestured for him to wait quietly at the edge of the chamber.
No names were called. No announcement made.
Elias quietly rejoined the back of the group with no fuss.
"Smooth," Tamsin whispered, flicking him a look. "I didn't even see that. I like you, squirt."
He offered her a mild, polite smile.
Names began to be called.
When "Tamsin Roskey" was announced, she strode forward with an exaggerated swing in her step. "Alright, crystal ball, show me your secrets."
She placed both hands on the sphere—and a sharp flare of deep orange firelight burst within the crystal. Sparks danced wildly in every direction, licking the inner surface like a wildfire caught in glass. The professors made a few interested notes.
"Fire affinity, high mana threshold," one murmured.
Tamsin stepped back with a grin and gave a little theatrical bow. "Thank you, thank you. I'm here all week."
Then came "Raffin Jorde."
He didn't bother with any theatrics. Walking forward calmly, he placed his palms on the orb.
A soft tremor ran through the stand beneath the sphere. Inside, faint brown and golden pulses rippled through the crystal—barely visible, more like an aftershock than a flare. After a few seconds, the glow faded.
"Earth affinity," a professor noted. "Minimal attunement. Mana capacity: average."
Raffin gave a polite nod and returned to the others without saying a word.
Then—
"Lilith Silford."