Shilo blinked down at the objects Archmage Jerine laid out for the test in disbelief. “Wha, no balls?” 

In a more hopeful voice, he asked, “What, did you guys give up?”

“You try my patience, boy,” Archmagus Arrinon growled.

Instead of metal spheres on the table, there were four small cast iron dumbbells. It had been a couple weeks since Shilo was last held captive in the little white room and had mistakenly thought the interest in him had waned. 

“No, we haven’t given up,” Archmage Jerine replied with all the tenacity and forbearance of a nursery school instructor. “But these are balls in a sense, they just have a bar attached to them. Anyway, today’s test is on strength. We are going to measure your physical endurance to assess if your blackness is due to brawn.”

Shilo looked at the dumbbells then up at the humanoid dumbbells in front of him. “They’re all one pound weights. How will that tell you anything?”

“Ah, you only think they’re just one pound weights. I’m going to magically change the density of the mass and thus, make it heavier or lighter than they appear. The thing is, you won’t be able to tell until you pick one up.”

Jerine picked a dumbbell up with one finger, emphasizing his point. 

“You will not know which one has changed nor will you know if its weight has increased or decreased. I will telepathically impart that information to Mage Gitra and she will document it and the ensuing outcome. So if you try to finagle the results to your benefit by, oh, let’s say… acting like a five ounce weight now weighs one hundred pounds, we will know.”

Shilo glared at the man and pushed up his sleeve. He flexed his arm, bearing his average boy bicep. “Does this look like the arm of a blacken warrior to you?”

Ignoring the boy’s sarcasm, Jerine began his lecture, “Just like magic, brawn has many variations and variables that determine one’s strength, only it deals with the underlying genetic physique, physical constitution, muscle fiber appearance as in its thickness, tone, density, mass, and so on—”

“And so on, and so on,” Shilo mimicked. 

“…along with other nuances such as exercise and nutrition.”

Shilo smiled innocently at the mage's glare.

“Ahem, as I was saying. All these variables have an effect on the physical makeup of the muscles, especially when physical activity is factored in. A hybryd that appears muscular to the point of looking inflated may only be a darkish medium grey instead of blacken due to the training methodology he enlisted focusing on the proportionality and aesthetics of muscle mass instead of actual strength.”

Shilo squeezed his upper arm, trying to drive home the no brawn aspect of himself.

“To better explain the many variants of physical strength, take for example, Prime Chancellor Zeir and the guardsman that is always behind him at your assessments. Both men are blacken, but both have very different physiques. The Chancellor’s has more of a lean build with high muscle density while the guard—“

“Jin,” Shilo piped in. It bothered him for some reason that the mage wasn’t even trying to say the man’s name.

At Jerine's odd look, he elaborated, “The guard’s name is Jin.”

“Ahem, right. Jin has muscle mass along with density, making his build physically larger.”

“He’s also very tall. Huge even.”

“Yes, and because of that, even with smaller muscles, his musculature would still be well above average due to the sheer size of him.”

“The man’s a bloody behemoth,” Kirlim grumbly reiterated as he leaned nonchalantly against the wall. “More like an ogre than a Frost Barbarian.”

“Ogre, troll, gorilla, or moose?” Lytah asked with a glare. “Really, Kirlim, which is it?”

Kirlim gave her a lazy smile. “All and more,” he replied, indifferent.

“Frost barbarian?” Shilo said, scrunching up his hawkish nose.

Jerine sucked in his breath. “Don’t ever say that around him! Or to any other brawny darkies for that matter, especially if they’re biggens! It’s an offensive slur!”

“Wow, that was a pretty childish squawk. Does Jin scare you that much?” 

After that remark, Shilo gave a sweet, wide-eyed grin that grew in size the more distressed Jerine became. 

Jerine glared at him as he tried to catch his breath. 

Arrinon growled, “Overgrown, musclebound, meatheads are in no way frightening nor superior to us mages. They are the ancillaries, not us!”

Shilo arched an eyebrow and looked to Lytah.

“In a nutshell, an ancillary is a subordinate that provides supplemental support for the more necessary operations,” Lytah explained. “Though, one could say that all us mages are ancillaries to Verander and Prime Chancellor Zeir, who is one of those overgrown, musclebound, meatsacks.”

The Archmagus shot her a glare, to which she returned with a guileless smile.

Jerine took a couple breaths to further calm himself. “A-Anyway, back to the lesson. There are four main categories above average: medium, darkish medium, dark, and blacken. Though, if you want to be picky, a hybryd’s blacken state is more of a dark charcoal than a true black. It has a blue tint to it like all the other hybryd greys.” 

Jerine’s darkish fingers tapped Shilo's blacken hand for emphasis, causing the boy to let out a startled yelp. 

“Crap! You didn’t have to zap me to make your point! Or is this payback for that squawking crack?”

Jerine rubbed his fingertips and pressed his lips in a tight line. He glanced at Arrinon and at the Archmagus’s nod, continued.

“Yes, I apologize for that. Well anyway, grey is the starting point for all hybryds, average, but when mana or higher than average muscle mass is added to the mix, then the grey darkens to indicate that strength. 

“Mana is something a mage is born with, it’s a set amount of power within themselves they can draw from. Even though training will strengthen endurance and the innate ability to manipulate magic, the mana inside oneself will not increase. A mage may become weaker in a sense, if they lack training or faith in their abilities, however their mana did not deteriorate in any way, therefore their coloring remains unchanged. Extraction, more commonly known as nullification, is the only way to truly negate the mana within a mage and thus alter the shade marker to reflect the natural brawn of the now ex-mage without any magical influences.”

No mana, no mage. Shilo rolled a dumbbell with his soot colored finger. I’m not a mage. I’m not a muscle man. I’m just a freak.

“Whereas with brawn, the child is usually always born average grey, and their coloring will change dramatically depending on their environment, diet, and exercise routine. When one darkens with training, the lack thereof will lighten the grey to coincide with their decreased muscle tone. With the added longevity of hybryds, we as a new people, do not have any elderly in our midst yet, therefore it's only speculation that when a hybryd becomes decrepit with age, their coloring will become paler than average.”

“Thank you, Archmage Jerine,” Arrinon cut in, his voice patronizing. “I believe that’s enough insight on physiology and we should start the actual examination now.”

After Shilo completed several rounds of picking up, or in some cases, trying to pick up the weights, he was released to wait alone in another room for what felt like an eternity while the mages analyzed the scores. Then he was ushered into the courtroom to stand before the officials and hear the official verdict. The tests were conclusive, and redundant, informing everyone that his strength was that of an average child—just like he told them.

When they returned home, Lytah handed Romin a copy of the test results. For reasons neither Lytah nor Romin himself would explain, Romin took an interest in Shilo progress. Lytah started obtaining copies of the report to bring him since the man would badger her for every detail, often for hours if he wasn’t satisfied with her account. The only excuse for it Shilo could see was for the ass to get an idea on when he could kick him out.

After reading the report, Romin smacked it with his hand in disgust. “It’s only obvious the boy has no brawn. I mean, look at him,” he said, waving to Shilo in a dismissive gesture. “The boy’s a scrawny runt, a weakling. Any fool can see that, the bloody imbeciles.”

“For once, we agree,” Shilo muttered to himself from his seat on the sofa.

Unfortunately his utterance drew Romin’s full attention. “And you, boy, I expect you to put in a little more effort on your part. You can’t honestly be this pathetic. You’re making Lytah look like a novice and me a dope for even agreeing to this. If you want to ever be able to breathe fresh air again, I suggest you apply yourself and show some damn improvement.”

Shilo growled, his tail flicking back and forth to beat his aggravation against the sofa.

“Or would you rather Lyath not be your caregiver? I’m sure I could impress upon the Archmagus your unwillingness to learn under her tutelage and that perhaps you’d be better off with someone not as softhearted.”

“Romin,” Lytah cautioned. “The Archmagus was the one who appointed me to care for him, I seriously doubt he would—” 

Lytah fell silent under the man’s glare.

“I am your husband. And you, you are my wife. The Archmagus has no authority here in my house, but I do. You would do well to remember that, the both of you.” 

Playing with the tassel of her tail, Lytah bowed her head and mumbled an apology as a growling Romin stumped off to his study, his tail flickering about in anger.

“Sorry, Lyath,” Shilo softly said, playing with his own tail. “I didn’t mean to cause you any problems. I’m just a pathetic weakling.”

“You’re a weakling,” Hydee gleefully parroted. She poked him in the cheek and then suddenly drew back with a startled, painful yelp. 

Shilo grabbed his stringing cheek and snarled at her. The damn brat zapped him! It was one thing for the archmages and enforcers to do it, but for her… He growled at her, baring his teeth with his tail thrashing about.

With a sobbing whimper, Hydee ran to Lytah. She hugged the girl and glanced nervously at the study before meeting Shilo’s eyes with a hard glare.

**Do you honestly want to get thrown out? Because at this rate, you’re off to a wonderful start!** Lytah's voice growled in his head, all timidness gone. **Now, quit sulking and act right! Behave, dammit!**

In a soothing tone, Lytah suggested a cookie to Hydee as she picked her up and balanced her on her hip. Hydee whimpered out a yes and wrapped her arms around Lytah’s neck. She looked almost too big for the petite woman to handle as she carried her off to the kitchen. 

Watching her go, an odd realization hit him. He didn’t want to leave her. It felt like forever since he had been in the care of a loving adult who truly cared about his well-being, and found it was now something he actually missed. Even though he had only been living with her for a few months, without meaning to, a bond had formed. One he earnestly hoped she shared too.

“Sorry, Lytah,” Shilo whispered. “All I do is screw things up.”