In the worst case, he would be a low-class shadow mage. They were at the end of the seventh month. The months of harvest, which is when the talents are awakened, are from the sixth to the tenth month. It was not an established law, but the most skilled magicians woke up at the beginning of the sixth month, while the worst magicians awoke at the end of the tenth month.

‘I should be a magician that ranks at least in the middle class,’ he said while bathing himself in the cold water of the well.

By the month of his aweakening, he was supposed to be a high-class magician, but Xavier didn’t want to make himself too delusional. The life of the poor is tough; it forced you to be more realistic, but it didn’t matter; even if he was a low-class shadow magician, he could try to get a job in the subjugation squadrons. It was a dangerous but well-paid job.

He went back into the house after the bath. Back in the room where he slept with his brothers, he looked for his best clothing. His supposed fine clothing was just some worn-out trousers and a discolored shirt he inherited from his brother, Ferol. They were nothing more than rags, but, unlike the rest of his clothes, they had no spots, holes, or patches of any other color. On his feet were some broken boots that, at some point in the distant past, looked like leather, also inherited from his brother.

He had just changed when a carriage stopped in front of the humble house. Only one person in the town had a carriage. After Xavier’s father came down and made a reverence, Efrir de Exel came down from the carriage. He was a tall, thin, brown-skinned man with a thin nose, smooth and long hair, a well-groomed beard, and light green eyes with an inquisitory look.

‘Well, it is true what you said, Euraclius. There is magic in this house,’ said Efrir to Xavier’s father, approaching the door of the Vonders.

‘I would never lie about something as serious as this, my lord,’ assured Euraclius proudly.

From now on, he would be the envy of the village people; his son was a future magician, and he himself had traveled in the carriage of a nobleman. It was a glorious day.

Xavier’s mother left the house to welcome the village lord.

‘My lord,’ greeted Xavier’s mother with reverence.

‘She is my wife, Merila, my lord,’ Euraclius introduced her.

‘It is an honor that our Lord takes the trouble of coming to our humble house,’ Merila adulated.

‘It is not a hassle; it is always a pleasure to meet another future magician,’ assured Efrir with false modesty.

Efrir of Exel, though of very low class, was a magician of fire and a real noble. His family had acquired the title of nobility many generations ago. His lineage remained as nobles thanks to him and another one of his brothers; they awakened as talents and became lower-class fire magicians. Although he had not become master of these lands for his skill and talent for magic but for his dexterity to make relations with the most powerful and his brutal way of exploiting the poor peasants, he was a professional buttlicker and a skilled slave worker. For him, the peasants were nothing more than cargo animals that should work to death to raise the fortunes of his family.

Although the Vonders had a surname, they were not noble. Or at least they weren’t recognized as such. Many peasants added surnames to their names in order to try to appear to have a better lineage, but no one paid any attention to them; the nobility let it pass because some peasants were indeed distant descendants of some noble family that had fallen into misfortune and disappeared. Usually, the lord of the village would send a knight with an enchanted stone to confirm that, indeed, the young man was a future magician. However, the fact that Xavier was the first talent to awaken in the village in more than ten years and that he woke up in the seventh month was enough incentive for Efrir to come in person. The boy had the potential to become a middle-class or upper-class magician and could become more powerful than him in the future. He didn’t lose anything by establishing good relations with the Vonders. Moreover, with a magician in the family, although the Vonder were as poor as poor can be, they were already nobility, given that there was a blood lineage of magic.

‘Where is the little talent?’ asked Efrir.

‘Here, my lord,’ pointed Euraclius, inviting him to the house.

Efrir remained calm and hid his disgust toward the disastrous residence. He found the place repulsive. When he entered the living room, he found what he was expecting: pieces of stone arranged like a puzzle acted as the floor; a ceiling of wooden sheets and palm tree leaves; an old wooden table made in the most rustic form possible; wodden chairs that only to see them caused pain to his buttocs; a wooden stove; a few cooking utensils made of cast iron covered in soot; wooden cups, pots, and dishes made of clay. The house was the essence of poverty and misery.

Standing in the living room, there was a young mulatto boy, short, crisp hair, about one-sixty meters tall, quite thin, almost skeletal; the lack of body fat made his cheekbones clearly visible; his face roasted by the sun made him look more brown than he really was. He was still growing up, but poor nutrition would delay his development; he wore old and worn-out clothes, his pants were too short, and his legs could be seen despite his boots.

‘My lord, this is our son, Xavier de Vonder,’ presented Euraclius, bringing the boy to Efrir. Xavier was a bundle of nerves; it was the first time that he saw the lord of these lands closely. His clothes were luxurious, with bright red and green colors; some silver garments adorned the neck and the jacket.

‘Oh, an interesting talent indeed; the magic is flooding out of you, boy,’ Efrir didn’t show it, but he was full of envy.

His suspicions were confirmed after seeing Xavier in person. Although he did not know for sure, the boy had a more intense magical essence than his own when he aweakened, and now it was easy to feel the elements sprung out of his body.

‘In a few days, your magic will stabilize, and you will incline towards one of them; then it won’t be so easy to feel the elemental energy unleashing from your body.’ The fact that a peasant could be a more powerful magician than he was annoying, but his noble pride prevented Efrir from showing such emotions.

‘As you can imagine, I’m here to welcome you to the world of magicians. We might still not know what elemental afinity you will have, but there is no doubt that you will be a magician,’ assured Efrir, taking out a parchment and a blue glass from his fine and delicate jacket.

‘I’m going to make your record. Your father told me that you woke up last night, so it will take you another fifteen days to stabilize your magic. Then you shall go to the royal city for your elemental affinity test. I expect great things from you, young one.’ said Efrir, approaching Xavier. ‘Your thumb, please.’

The trembling Xavier passed his hand to Efrir, who struck his thumb with a needle. One drop of blood stained the parchment, and another one stained the glass. After this, Efrir took the glass, staring firmly at it as it changed color and turned red. This effect would not be possible without the blood of a magician. Efrir kept the parchment and the glass, then took two silver coins out of his pocket and put them on the table. The idea of giving two coins to these animals annoyed him. However, it was the gift that the kingdom gave to the poor talents, and the noble landowner was obliged to supply it.

‘Young Xavier de Vonder, I Efrir de Exel, lord and regent of Humol, on the twentieth day of the seventh month, in the year six hundred and sixty of the age of magic, welcome you to the magicians society.’ All this fanfare was not necessary, but Efrir liked to feel important. He looked at the boy from top to bottom; the clothes he was wearing caused him nausea. ‘You will need more suitable clothing for your entrance to the guard tower of the royal city. On the sixteenth day, in the middle of the eighth month, a carriage will come to pick you up. I hope you are ready. My work here is done; it has been a pleasure. I hope that we will keep in touch in the future,’ concluded Efrir, extending his hand to Xavier.

‘It was an honor for me to meet you, my lord,’ said Xavier with reverence as he stretched the hand of the nobleman. The contact with the boy’s sweaty hand almost made Efrir vomit. He used his stoicism as a nobleman in order not to make a denigrating spectacle.

In theory, there was no reason for the De Vonders to treat Efrir as superior, at least from the point of view of their title, but obviously, one was a bunch of miserable nobodys, while the other was the regent and administrator of the town. The submissive attitude of the De Vonder was pleasant to Efrir. Not all nobles were equal. There were low-ranking, high-ranking nobles, leaders of powerful and wealthy families, excellency members of the royal court, and, finally, members of the royalty.

Efrir withdrew with a steady and agile pace, but without showing his hurry.

‘Disgusting!’ he complained, once in his seat. As the carriage began to move, Efrir frantically cleaned his hands with a towel.

Meanwhile, at Xavier’s house, the parents embraced their extraordinary son. Even the lord of the village had come in person. The curiosity of the neighbors became immediate. Xavier’s older brothers abandoned their duties and came to the house. The news about Xavier Awkening ran like wildfire in the woods during the fall season; the boy became the local hero instantly. There was even a small celebration to commemorate the event. Battey’s village had its own magician.

During the party, several stoves were burning with huge pots. Several kinds of tubers, vegetables, and prey meats from the forest were cooked together to create the soup they called Sancocho. The village people had done their best to celebrate the occasion; numerous homemade wines made from different fermented fruits filled the palate.

Xavier had the honorary position; the boys looked at him with envy, while the older girls looked upon him with desire. For his part, Xavier occasionally looked at Trina. Her voluptuous and well-formed body was the only thing that distracted him from food.

By night, all the adults and some of the young were already drunk. It was at that moment that Trina took advantage of the situation and took Xavier to a more discrete and isolated location. Although Xavier’s brothers noticed, they were too busy with other girls. The brothers of a magician were more appetizing than the rest of the boys present. If one member of the family was a magician, the children of the rest had some possibility.

Trina and Xavier kissed over the hay in the barn; the boy’s hands passed through the young woman’s whole body. However, she stopped him when he approached the most intimate areas.

‘It is not a good day; we shall leave it for later,’ the girl said, stopping him, getting up, and leaving.

Xavier was left alone and confused in the barn. After calming down his frustration, he returned to the party. The night passed without much novelty, between singing, dancing, laughter, and alcohol.

The morning after the celebration, Xavier woke up late again. His brothers had already left to toil in the fields. No family member wanted Xavier to work on such a thing. If something happened to a future magician for something so insignificant as crops, it would be a tragedy.

When he arrived at the table, his piece of bread and his cup of oatmeal waited for him.

‘Cinnamon?’ asked Xavier. It was all a luxury; spices were very expensive.

‘A small present from one of the neighbors,’ explained Merila.

Many neighbors wanted to gain the favor of a family of future nobles who had just received a visit from the lord of the lands and who also had a future magician. Xavier didn’t give it any more importance and just enjoyed the pleasant detail.

‘You must go and buy new clothes,’ said Merila, smiling. ‘Now you are a member of the nobility, and you must dress according to your status.’ She was proud of her son.

An hour later, Xavier and Euraclio went to the town. By that time, the news had already reached all corners of Humol. The town was different from the village; all the houses and buildings were made of stone and had tile roofs; there were several shops; the streets were paved with stone; people dressed in clothes with vibrant colors, not with the rags that were used in the villas; and some carriages passed from time to time carrying some noble or merchant with money.

Father and son went to a tailor shop and picked a fairly basic suit, acceptable to a low-ranking nobleman, but that could easily be distinguished from a peasant. It cost them a silver coin. Both Xavier and Euraclio felt their souls drop after handing the tailor the precious coin for just a few pieces of clothing. The silver coins they had left would be used to pay the royalty taxes. The family would be able to breathe the following year. Upon returning home, Euraclius invited his son to his room.

‘This is the secret treasure of our family.’ Euraclius showed him a bronze ring he had never seen before. It was carefully wrapped in a lot of clothes. The bronze was not very valuable. The ring had an emblem; the design showed the image of a sparrow flying towards the sun. Its function was more of a seal than of a ring, something common in the nobility, although the rings the nobles used were made of gold or silver.

‘This is our seal, the crest of our family. My grandfather told me that many, many years ago, the De Vonder belonged to a branch of the nobility that descended directly from kings. But our family fell into bad times, and now this is all that remains,’ Euraclius explained, holding the ring.

Euraclius tied the ring with a small rope and then put it around Xavier’s neck. The boy’s fingers were too thin to wear the ring.

‘Normally, we could not ask for the recognition of the crest and seal of our family; it costs five gold coins to go to the archive of the royal city and request that service. But now, as a future magician, you can do it. Magicians must register their family mark for the title of nobility, and it’s free for them. Our family will have its place again,’ said Euraclius with his brown eyes full of tears.

The man arose, and Xavier watched him leave the room limping. His left leg was deformed, which was the result of a wound he suffered in the last war against the Kingdom of Veldat eight years ago. In that same war, his uncle had died, and it was a hard time for the family. Euraclius always lamented that, as peasants, they never had another choice but to die in vain at the orders of the nobles; however, at this moment, Euraclius back was more straight than usual, his chest puffed out and his head held high. Xavier looked at the ring hanging from his neck. With his gaze on the garment, he understood his father’s feeling, this was pride.