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“The beer is on the house—thank you for your service!”

“Ah, I appreciate it, Bennett. Pass along my hello to Janet.”

“I will,” Bennett said, a little louder than necessary, his grin broad.

Augustus accepted the two brimming glass mugs, a thin cap of foam trembling atop the golden liquor. He flashed the bartender his signature smile—the sort that suggested familiarity rather than obligation—then turned away.

The bar was warm and crowded for the second day of the week, filled with a clientele with a higher-end palate. As Augustus wove through the tables with his two mugs, he smiled and nodded, offering brief acknowledgments to patrons who recognized the crimson-and-gold trim of his royal mage robes.

Ever since taking up this job for the kingdom, Augustus made more money than he knew what to do with. Literally, as he never had to pay for anything, with citizens offering to cover for him at every turn. It was a favorable circumstance compared to the desperate and destitute early years he experienced as the sole heir of a broke noble house, with only their title of any value.

He caught his reflection briefly in a mirror—hair immaculate, robes fitted just right at the shoulders, posture relaxed but proper. Nothing about him hinted at the cold, empty halls of his childhood home, or the way meals often consisted of only beans and oats.

Now, he could afford all the steak and wine he wished. Yet he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d reached for his own coin purse.

Despite Augustus’s air of carefree, effortless ease, everything that he obtained and had become was by his own effort and design. Even his powerful mana core was a result of his efforts, a technique he discovered and kept under wraps and key to help sell the image of his innate genius. But he was far from brilliant or a genius. Rather, all of his success was a result of careful preparation. There was meticulous planning behind even the most mundane of details.

“Ah—my apologies!” a woman exclaimed as she backed out of her seat and bumped into him.

Augustus shifted smoothly, steadying both mugs with magic to avoid spilling a drop.

“No worries,” he said lightly. “Nothing’s spilled.”

The woman flushed, murmured her thanks, and hurried on.

Augustus glanced down at the two mugs in his hands, the golden liquor in place and foam intact.

Even these free beers were the product of his careful preparation.

I’d better give it two or so weeks before returning again. Bennett is rather stingy.

Augustus had a mental calendar of all the shops, restaurants, and bars, and when he last went, and when would be the next best time to visit if he wished to snag a freebie from the business owner. Or have a generous patron cover his tab.

He had learned early that the right optics could secure what intelligence, strength, and even coin often could not.

That understanding shaped everything he presented to the world. His hair was always neatly kept, his clothes subtly tailored to flatter rather than flaunt. Even his smile and laugh had been practiced until they appeared effortless and produced the perfect emotion.

And it went deeper than the mere visual. He remembered names. Preferences. Interests. Passing comments that would typically be forgotten by others—but not by Augustus. People liked being seen and heard. Doors opened more readily when they believed they mattered.

Especially now.

His prestigious title of a royal mage afforded him latitude and more grace for bad behaviour. But unlike his fellow royal mages, Augustus rarely relied on it, and instead doubled down on maintaining the curated image of himself.

Truth be told, even his appointment had less to do with his actual competence as a mage than the image of brilliance that he had cultivated.

It was all optics.

No, if pure competence was what the king and queen sought in a royal mage, his good friend Ronan would have been swimming in gold and waited on by servants eager to anticipate his every need.

Yet instead, his friend, a mage that Augustus considered leagues more brilliant than himself, was stuck tinkering away with arcane artifacts in some dark basement.

Augustus sighed, seeing the disheveled and distraught appearance of his old friend: the patchy and uncombed hair, the way his shoulders sagged forward, hunching beneath a weight seen only by himself.

More than once, Augustus had been tempted to sit him down and explain how the world truly worked. How a good haircut, some proper sleep, and a willingness to learn how to communicate with others confidently could advance his standing at the academy far more efficiently than his obsessive devotion to problem-solving ever would.

But then Ronan would no longer be Ronan.

Augustus smiled wistfully and set the glasses of beer on the table.

And he liked his friend far too much as he was, to reshape him into something that was more palatable to the rest of the world.

For all the success Augustus credited to his careful management of optics, he admitted the entire charade was absurd and hollow.

“So much for taking my mind off….” Ronan suddenly grumbled.

Augustus followed his friend’s gaze out the window and caught sight of the likely issue.

While never having laid eyes on Luca Frey, he was competent enough to catch the hint that the young man with the neck brace—likely hiding the black mana collar—was none other than the cause of his friend’s headache.

So that’s him.

Augustus rested a hand on Ronan’s shoulder.

“Well, we can’t have that. I promised you some rest.” Augustus gave a light squeeze. “You enjoy the beer. I'll resolve that little issue for you—once and for all.”

Ronan's head snapped over, his eyes wide. “What are you planning on doing?” he asked.

Augustus smiled

“Why, by giving him a small test,” he replied. “Nothing more.”

Though his main intention was to help his old friend, Augustus Vointdel had a personal curiosity regarding the mage of so much speculation.

​

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

​

“I thought you wanted to see the royal mages,” Helen said, breaking the silence as we continued down the street.

“I do and we will,” Dmitry replied.

“Then why are we going this way?” she inquired.

Dmitry shrugged, flashing a familiar grin. “They won’t show up for another couple of hours. Might as well explore the city.”

He didn’t mention that our route had been chosen deliberately—by me. We were heading toward the coordinates I identified on the map.

I understood Helen’s confusion. This street was busy, but subdued. Rows of outdoor tables were occupied by men and women in tailored coats and professional attire, leaning toward one another in low, serious conversation. Judging by their expressions and posture, these were not leisurely outings but negotiations. And meetings.

We stood out immediately. Three academy students, young and clearly out of place.

A murmur rippled through the nearby tables, though not because of us.

“Is that—?” Helen gasped. For once, the Prefect’s composure cracked.

“It is!” Dmitry exclaimed, unabashedly delighted.

I followed their line of sight.

A man approached from the opposite end of the street, red robes fluttering with his step. He was in his late twenties, or perhaps early thirties. He had a square-jawed face and dark-blond hair that fell neatly. There was something familiar about him. Not his actual appearance, but rather the air about him, felt similar to the one that Micah had when attending to formal affairs.

“That’s Augustus Vointdel,” Dmitry whispered urgently. “A royal mage. Youngest ever promoted to the First Tier.”

The reverence in his voice was unmistakable.

“There are three tiers,” Helen added. Then her voice stopped short as Augustus angled directly toward us.

“Ah, students of Ethereal Academy,” Augustus smiled brightly, his gaze sweeping over the three of us before settling on Helen.

“Helen, I saw your father last week. Is his cold any better?”

Helen’s expression of a diligent student returned. “Yes, thank you. He was feeling much better when I last spoke with him.”

“Glad to hear it.” Augustus’s attention shifted smoothly. “And Dmitry, are you still planning to apply to the RRM?”

He must have caught my confused expression from the corner of his eye, because he then added, “The Red Royal Mages.”

“Yes!” Dmitry replied with the enthusiasm I’d only seen in a soldier on Grandov’s platoon. “Absolutely!”

“Excellent.”

Then Augustus looked at me and paused, not saying anything more.

“I’m Luca Frey,” I inadvertently introduced myself, feeling the pressure of his stare and the silence filled with expectation hovering in the air.

“Ah,” Augustus replied, nodding. “The famous new student.”

The smile remained on his face, but I had the distinct sensation that he’d known exactly who I was long before I introduced myself.

“Have you considered applying to the RRM as well?” he asked.

I blinked.

“I… I’m not sure,” I said. “I only just began my studies. And I’m not allowed to practice magic yet. For safety reasons.”

I lowered my voice a notch above a whisper. The appearance of a royal mage on the street had captured quite a bit of attention. Men and women were glancing our way, and evidently eavesdropping on our conversation.

Augustus noticed this as well.

“Shall we go somewhere a bit more private?” he suggested mildly. “We’re beginning to gather an audience.”

Before I could voice my own opinion, Dmitry and Helen had already readily agreed.

“Wonderful.”

Without further warning, Augustus traced a smooth circle in the air with his right hand, and space seemingly folded on itself.

Dmitry didn’t hesitate and practically sprinted through.

Helen followed in, but maintained her decorum.

I hesitated only a fraction longer before stepping through myself, feeling little other choice in the matter. Augustus came last, the portal sealing shut behind him with a soft crackle.

“This belongs to a friend of mine,” he said as the city street noise faded away. “He’s out of town—and won’t mind us borrowing the space for a moment.”

The words were casual. The situation was not. And the peculiarity of it had finally dawned on even Dmitry.

“What did you want to discuss in private with us?” he inquired.

At this, Augustus smiled. “See, I have an opening for an intern. It’ll be announced today in a few hours. But I thought I’d extend the opportunity to you first, given your enthusiasm for—”

“Can I audition too?” Helen cut in.

“Of course,” Augustus beamed, having no issue with her interruption.

“What about Luca?” Dmitry asked suddenly.

My head snapped toward him.

Dmitry winked, as if he had just done me a tremendous favor. Helen’s brows knit together, her expression tightening as if another competitor entered the race.

A race I hadn’t agreed to enter.

“Of course,” Augustus said smoothly. “He is your friend, after all.”

The smile he gave me sent a chill down my spine.

It was far too reminiscent of Claude Noire’s wolfish grin.

There was some sort of angle I was not aware of.

Damn it.

“But I can’t use magic properly,” I said quickly, lifting my wrists, though the black mana cuffs were hidden. “I can’t possibly apply for an internship.”

“Not to worry,” Augustus replied easily. “The test will take that into account.”

He produced a pocket watch, flicking it open before frowning faintly at the time.

“Ah. I am expected to be in the central square in two hours. And the test itself will likely take… an hour and a half, perhaps more.” He closed the watch with a soft click. “And of course, if you have somewhere you must be...”

“We can do it now!” Dmitry pounced.

Helen nodded just as quickly. “We were only taking a walk. Nothing important.”

Augustus sighed and clasped the watch closed.

“Very well,” he said. “We’ll begin at once.”

He motioned his hands and uttered a short chant. The air thickened, and a veil-like cover fell over each of us.

“In the event of unforeseen complications,” Augustus’s voice came muffled, as though heard through water, “you will be shielded from external interference while the test is underway.”

He continued giving instructions, but my thoughts were already spiraling—cycling through excuses, escape routes, contingencies.

For a fleeting moment, I even considered asking Apophis to activate the Pull Tab Necklace. Turning invisible and slipping away might still have been possible.

Might.

With that veil in place, it was probably already too late. Besides, disappearing into thin air would be extremely suspicious in itself.

Damn it.

I glanced at Dmitry and Helen. Both of them were absorbing every word of the royal mage.

No. Wait. This whole situation was weird.

I frowned.

Who conducted impromptu tests on the street? Even if they were a famous royal mage, this was peculiar.

“Hold on, I—” I raised my hand to voice my opinion.

Not that it mattered anymore.

I blinked, and my view suddenly changed to darkness.

Beneath my feet stretched a vast, glossy black lake. Given I was able to stand without sinking in, perhaps it was more correct to call it a giant puddle. I turned my head, and the view was the same no matter where I looked. It extended endlessly in every direction, shimmering faintly.

Above me hung a sky of burnt orange and dull gray, without a sun, a moon, or stars. There was no perceivable source of light, yet light existed all the same. Nor was there any note of temperature.

“Where am I?” I asked in my native tongue, directing the question toward Apophis.

But no answer came. And my voice sounded muted, as if underwater.

I glanced down at my feet, and there wasn’t even a shadow.

I frowned.

Where am I? And why isn’t Apophis and that shadow creature here?

I rubbed my face.

Damn it. I should have spoken up earlier.

Instead, I’d wasted precious seconds considering escape routes and failed to act on any of them. As a twofold blow, I had only caught fragments of the instructions for this so-called test.

I lifted my head and concentrated on calming down.

Once my thoughts settled, I began to evaluate my situation and the available options.

Though my attire and form were what I had on the rooftop, the lack of my two secret companions suggested that I was teleported on my own.

Or, more likely, only my mind was. The clue was that the protective veil the mage produced was said to protect my body. If not in here, likely in the real world.

And I sincerely doubted I’d been teleported to another body of existence, much less another realm.

I lifted my head, scanning the endless horizon.

A slow, knowing smile tugged at my lips.

Wait, is this perhaps an illusion?

I’d never experience an illusion myself. And every illusion I’d ever cast was woven with reality, and borrowing from what already existed. But this one removed all my usual physical sensations and had no relation to the real world. It was like being in a dream.

From what little I remembered, the goal of the test was to escape a maze.

Though calling this flat, infinite expanse a maze felt… odd. Unless this was what Augustus meant by taking my situation into consideration.

Well, if it’s a literal path out that’s needed, I do have one trick up my sleeve.

I rubbed my hands.

Finally, I had a practical use to test the capabilities of my innate dowsing rod.

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