The girl certainly had a...novel approach. The spell drew its strength from the image of a will-o’-the-wisp wandering a cemetery. Flashiness was far from a concern. Her delivery made a pop fly at the bottom of the ninth inning in the biggest baseball game of the season look measured and controlled.
The next candidate flubbed the incantation, likely out of nervousness. The spell failed. The next one managed to cast the spell, albeit with much less power than Cassim’s example. In fact, as Arcus waited for his turn, he was surprised to see just how many candidates mis-incanted. It was especially startling, given that the children of magic houses were supposed to have started their aetheric study and training early. Having said that, it wasn’t as though every candidate was expected to pass this exam. There would no doubt be those who failed the written part, so it was no wonder that there were a few bumblers when it came to the practical section.
Out of the ten candidates who had just performed, only three of them—including the overly enthusiastic girl—had successfully cast. The other two had created fireballs that were smaller and less powerful than they should have been, failing to burn the hay bales.
I didn’t think anyone would struggle like this...
To think that no one had performed the spell at its standard strength. Still, he supposed that even military magicians had been perfectly capable of mis-incanting before the aethometer’s introduction. And these candidates hadn’t even been to the Institute yet. The amount of failures shouldn’t have surprised him.
Magic was difficult. The fact that Arcus had forgotten just went to show how impressive the magicians around him were. The candidates who did manage to cast successfully let it be known.
“I did it!”
“Very impressive. Well done.” The spell had been a little weaker compared to the norm, but it seemed to have pleased Cassim, who congratulated the candidate with a smile. “Next.”
The time had come. Arcus stepped forward.
“My name is Arcus Raytheft.”
“Oh! It’s you!” Cassim’s face lit up, and he approached the boy. “We haven’t had the chance to meet, have we? I’ve been far too busy for any such meetings lately...”
“Your busy schedule is a testament to your extraordinary abilities, sir.”
“Yes, abilities that let them foist all the boring tasks onto me...” Cassim laughed weakly. It was enough to pluck at Arcus’s heartstrings. Clearly, he was a hard worker, and people knew it.
Considering the idiosyncratic bunch he rolled with, he was definitely at risk of developing wrinkles early. The overly assertive witch who had no business looking that young; the dubious magician for whom lifting a pinky finger seemed like too much work; and then there was the group’s problem child, a girl who had to be physically restrained: all in all, rough company for a straitlaced fellow like him.
“How is Cazzy doing?” the state magician asked.
“He is well. I have him working at my estate. Sometimes he puts on an apron and cleans.”
“Cazzy in an apron? That’s something I’d like to see.” Cassim gave a melodious laugh. He didn’t seem all that strict, and was pretty easy to talk to compared to the other state magicians. Arcus felt like he was talking to a nice, older boy who lived down the road.
“Um, Mr. Lowry?” the lecturer prompted.
“Oh! Of course. Please excuse me.” Cassim looked back to Arcus. “I know all about your skills, but seeing as this is an exam...”
“Yes, sir.” Arcus prepared himself. “Flaming quintessence. Float by the ancestral tomb. Sway, sway. Shake and glimmer. Call on Gown’s lamp. Stray and rush. An ensemble of embers.”
Ignited Soul took effect at once. Artglyphs scattered and danced in the air before flickering into pale-blue flame, like pockets of gas set off with a simple cigarette lighter. They floated like wandering spirits in a graveyard for a split second before whooshing over to the targets. When they collided with the hay it caught, flaring up with blue fire like a puddle of oil.
It was just as powerful as Ignited Soul was supposed to be. It hadn’t fizzled out like some of the other candidates’ attempts either.
The effect on the onlookers was instantaneous.
“Did you see that?”
“That’s got to be worth full marks, right?”
“I couldn’t tell it apart from Blinding Flare’s spell.”
“He made it look so easy...like Psychokinesis.”
What Arcus had done shouldn’t have been all that impressive, but he supposed it was a matter of perspective.
Even the lecturer seemed amazed. “Such control...”
“I hope you won’t find it patronizing of me to say that was remarkable?” Cassim said.
“Not at all. Thank you very much.”
“I cannot criticize the power, nor the spell’s speed. I think it’s fair to say it was on par with my demonstration.”
“My uncle would have lost his mind if I messed that up.”
“Crucible? Yes, I wouldn’t envy you.” The wry smile on Cassim’s lips was just what Arcus had expected.
If he had gone to Craib and reported his failure to execute a fire spell of all things, he would’ve found himself chewed out and starting his training over from the very beginning. Besides, if he couldn’t cast a spell as basic as this, he could kiss his dreams of bringing Joshua down goodbye.
Although he heard that there had been successful candidates in other groups, Arcus was the only one to perform the spell perfectly on that day.
Arcus was muttering to himself as he studied his reflection in the mirror.
“It’s not as bad as it used to be...right? Though I still kinda look like a girl...” He poked at his squishy cheeks.
His face had always been feminine, to the extent that he would often be mistaken for a girl. Since turning thirteen, however, the situation had been improved somewhat by his sharpening features. He was hopeful that this meant people would soon stop calling him “cute,” if nothing else. As long as that “cute” didn’t evolve into “pretty.”
Despite the improvement, there would doubtlessly still be those who mistook him for female at a distance. Perhaps, then, he shouldn’t have grown out his hair. He had thought that doing so might give off a different impression, but all it had really done was make him look even more feminine. Not that he had expected differently, but it was only human to commit to an aesthetic posture guaranteed to fail, just to be sure. There were several examples of masculine men with long hair, after all.
Arcus sighed, wrapping one of his flicked ends around his finger. He thought back to the comments made by those around him when his hair was starting to get longer.
“Have you decided to embrace your softer looks, Master Arcus?”
“No. I’m putting effort into fixing them.”
“I like it! You look great when you’re upping your cuteness, Arcus!”
“That’s not what’s happening, Sue. And let go of my hair.”
“If ya don’t like it, why not just lop it off? ’S no point in sufferin’ it, right?”
“Yeah, I know I should...”
“Life is all about challenges, Arcus. No matter how much disappointment you bear, things will get better so long as you don’t give up.”
“Eido... I’m growing out my hair, not going on an epic journey...”
“Isn’t your only option now to grin and bear it, brother? I feel as though any panic now may lead to a choice you will only regret.”
“Yeah, you might be right, Lecia...”
“I quite agree. Why not keep it at that length for the time being? It still has room for growth, and you might find that it settles if only you give it the time to do so.”
“Sorry, Lady Charlotte, I think I’d rather get a buzz cut then deal with it any longer...”
Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say.
“Ew, Arcus! Don’t!”
“Brother, you mustn’t!”
“I shan’t allow it!”
In his mind, a buzz cut would at least make him look like a boy, but the girls had assured him that it would look awful and that he would be in their bad books if he went through with it. And so, his plan B was shot down. For the time being, he had decided to stick with the long hair, if only to avoid their wrath.
Presently, he was attempting to style it suitably to keep it from looking strange. If that didn’t work, perhaps he really ought to cut it, as Cazzy had suggested.
At least his hair could be easily changed. His physique was another matter. As much as he worked out, he was struggling to build any muscle, and his shoulders had still yet to broaden. It was far from the masculine body shape he would have liked. He was at the age where his body would be taking on the unique characteristics he would retain into adulthood. If nothing else, he wished he could start gaining some height already. While his physical training had led to an increase in his strength and prowess, his body had yet to catch up appearancewise. He was supposed to be growing more masculine, just like the man from his dream, but neither his face nor his body seemed to have gotten the memo yet. If only he could work out what exactly it was that was keeping him so soft.
Meanwhile, his left arm was making good progress. It wouldn’t be long until it was back to normal.
Luckily I didn’t do any permanent damage...
He had been worried there for a second. Now, though, he was able to use it for his daily tasks again without any problems. It was all thanks to the healers and the spells Sue had been casting on it. All that was left was to pray that it finished healing without any complications.
As for the Institute, Arcus had passed the exam without complaint and secured his admission.
“I would have expected nothing less,” had been Noah’s remark.
“Same,” said Cazzy.
“There’d have been hell to pay if you failed. Not that you would’ve,” said Craib.
None of them had doubted him. After all, they had all been witness to his years of magic study and training.
His first day at the Institute had arrived. His uniform fit perfectly—he had sent over his measurements in advance—and now he was threading his arms through the white sleeves. He put on his socks and garters, then matched them with shoes of a neutral color.