At the end of many hardships, after much sorrow and despair, and through all the surprises and new experiences, he’d finally made it. This was the first step in Almark’s new journey at the Norkh Institute for Magic.

A Morning’s Resolve

A frigid gale howled through the Northern lands. Almark raced across a field, his trusted longsword in hand and his body covered in black leather armor. The hundred or so comrades charging with him were all dressed similarly.

They moved like a pack of wolves, converging on one spot—a force of enemies. Their foes rode large horses, were clad in heavy metal armor, and didn’t seem to react at all to Almark and his comrades’ charge. As the two forces drew closer, the heat coursing through Almark’s body erupted in a loud battle cry. His comrades did the same, raising their voices in vigor.

But then, it happened.

Without warning, the grass under Almark’s and his comrades’ feet came to life, coiling around their legs. And just as their charge was forced to a stop, the enemy commander reacted. His eyes glinted from behind his helmet, glowing menacingly as they fixed on Almark. Almark knew him. Marismorg the Iron Rider, of the Zel Interceptor Mercenary Company, a man who dreaded nothing and had never been taken down, no matter his foe.

“Cut them down!” Marismorg bellowed.

At his order, his men began charging toward Almark and his comrades. Almark tried to move his legs, but the grass coiled tightly around his knees. Marismorg was already right in front of him, his spear held aloft and his men right behind him.

“I said m-moooove!”

Almark woke up to the sound of his own voice. The sun, having just risen, was shining through his window. He reflexively jumped up and, fumbling for his longsword, tumbled off the bed. It was the impact of his fall that finally made him understand where he was.

“Right… I’m at Norkh…”

He got to his feet, scratched his head hard, and picked up his longsword. He remembered what he’d just seen in his dream. It was something that had actually happened to him. Marismorg hadn’t been as close as he was in the dream, and soon after they were trapped, Reiz’s cavalry arrived in the nick of time to save them.

His comrades later told him the grass trap they had stumbled into was the result of a spell. The Zel Interceptor Mercenary Company had hired a mage. And that was, in fact, Almark’s first encounter with magic. His father wasn’t one for superstitions or jinxes, but he hated the fact that Almark’s first experience with magic nearly got him killed. Reiz then ordered his subordinates to immediately cut down any enemies wearing a robe or holding a staff.

Almark didn’t remember how the battle went after that. Being on the battlefield for days on end had drained all his energy.

Almark drew the sword from its sheath. Looking at the light shining off the worn, nicked steel gradually calmed him down. After a moment of fiddling with a small protrusion in the scabbard’s edge, a small red pendant clicked free and dropped into his hand.

A memento of Shetina—Almark’s mother. When Reiz first gave it to Almark, he’d hung it around the boy’s neck, but after many close calls, Almark fitted the pendant in his sword’s scabbard so that he wouldn’t lose it. In Almark’s mind, the scabbard housed what protected him the most. The moment he lost his longsword would be the moment he died.

Moreover, he believed that this pendant had helped him avoid death. He doubted he would have survived his journey south without it. His father’s longsword and his mother’s pendant; those two had always kept him safe.

“I made it, Father… Mother.”

Suddenly, he heard a quiet click from the door. Zeid had entered the room and shut the door behind him.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” he asked Almark. “Whoa, why are you holding that thing?!”

“Oh, good morning, Zeid,” Almark replied. He pushed the pendant back into its hiding place and put his sword away.

“I got you some breakfast. You’ll be eating with everyone at the dining hall downstairs tonight, but they don’t have enough seats for breakfast yet.”

“Wow, it smells delicious.” Almark took the tray from Zeid and sat on the bed. “Thank you.”

He nimbly devoured the food. It almost looked like he had no time to taste it.

“That was good,” Almark said once he’d finished his breakfast. He leaped to his feet. “I’d like to wash my face and fix my hair. Is there a wash basin somewhere?”

“There’s a washroom in the dorm, but the quickest way would be… See, over there.” Zeid pointed down from the window. And indeed, there were five large wells there.

“You’re right… I’ll be back in a minute.”

Almark briskly changed into the clothes Zeid got him and stepped out of the room, hurrying down the stairs. As he passed through the first floor, he heard children laughing from the largest room nearby. Almark realized this must have been the dining hall and, peering inside, saw many kids chatting and joking together as they ate. For a moment, he imagined himself sitting there, surrounded by friends, and flashed a sad smile at how unreal that felt.

Let’s do what I can for now.

There was already someone using the wells: a girl about Almark’s age, with a distinctive, striking face. She had sleek, waist-length black hair that she was carefully washing.

“Good morning,” Almark said, earning him a glance from the girl. Her eyes were very spirited.

“Who’re you? I haven’t seen you around,” she replied. Her voice was pretty, but cold.

“I just arrived here yesterday.”

“…Oh. I did hear about a new student.” The girl looked down, disinterested.

“You’ve heard about me?”

“There’ve been rumors about you since yesterday. They say you’re the first new student in decades to enroll in the middle of the year. Everyone’s so excited to see who this talented kid is… But, hmm. That’s you, huh?”

The girl had clearly lost all interest in Almark.

“Sorry if I don’t live up to everyone’s expectations,” Almark said, not terribly fazed by her attitude as he pulled up water from the well and washed his face. The water was cold and pleasant. “I’m Almark. And you are?”

“Leila. Leila Kugan.”

A surname. She must have been a noble’s daughter.

“Everyone’s having breakfast,” Almark told the girl as he fixed his hair. “You’re not hungry?”

“I’m fine with a small breakfast.”

“Hmm. And they don’t scold you or anything?”

“Miss Maya can be a bit annoying if she notices, but she’s only there at the beginning.”

“Hmm.”

“Are we done? If you have more questions later, ask someone else.” Leila looked the other way.

Almark did the same and tended to his hair in silence before returning to his room. He found Zeid fixedly eyeing the longsword that leaned against the wall.

“Oh, you’re back,” Zeid said when he spotted Almark. “I was just thinking that this is a really nice blade. I’m no expert, but this has to be some top-class craftsmanship, right?”

Almark shook his head. “I’m not sure. I just borrowed it from my father. But it must be pretty sturdy to still be in one piece after how rough I’ve been with it.”

“Rough with it, he says…,” Zeid muttered to himself before peering at Almark’s face. “You look a bit tired. Did something happen downstairs?”

“…I ran into a girl.”

“Oh? Who?”

“She said her name was Leila… Leila Kugan.”

“Leila, huh?” Zeid’s eyes widened. “She’s a bit harsh, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Almark nodded sincerely. “She seemed disappointed that I was the new student.”

“Really? Ah-ha-ha!” Zeid laughed cheerfully. “So Leila was the first girl you met, huh? That’s a shame. If only it’d been Wendy instead.”

“Wendy?” Almark asked, having never heard this name before. “Who’s that?”

Zeid started to answer, but was interrupted by a bell from outside the building and went pale.

“Oh, is it that time already? Hurry up and get changed into your uniform. We have to get you to the schoolhouse.”

Almark nodded and put on his dark-blue robes. Zeid was urging him to hurry, so he didn’t have much time to relish his first moments in a mage’s robe, but his heart did race with excitement.

Mages—those who wielded magic, manipulated invisible forces, and touched on the abyss.

In the North, mages were nothing but dangerous, crafty foes that employed all manner of tricks. So when Almark’s father told him he would one day study magic, Almark was at first shocked. He taught himself how to wield a sword because he’d thought that if he honed his combat skills, his father might change his mind.

When he started going to the battlefield with his father’s approval, Almark had fully believed he would never be anything but a mercenary. He was surrounded by mercenaries; that lifestyle was all he knew. Almark decided he would live entirely by the sword, and he soon felt proud of that.

But his father never changed his mind.

The day before Almark departed, as he listened to his father and looked into his eyes—that was the moment he gave up on being a mercenary. As much as he missed the band, Almark’s desire to live up to his father’s wishes was even stronger. He wanted Reiz, who he respected so much, to think of him as a worthy son.

Studying magic and becoming a mage were completely uncharted territory for Almark, but he didn’t want his father to think he was a coward who feared the unknown. He was the son of the brave mercenary Reiz, and he wanted to prove his father’s courage had a place in the world of mages, too. He wanted his father to take pride in him.

But during his journey south, Almark’s idea of mages changed. He saw the destructive spells used by mages in the North, and how they were but a sliver of what magic had to offer. In the South, magic was used extensively; it was ingrained in daily life. That made Almark want to use Southern magic, too, and bring it back to the North. And that was his own wish, independent of what his father wanted for him.

Almark left the dorm at Zeid’s urging, and the two of them hurried to the schoolhouse. His robes felt fresh and new.

I’ll do it, thought Almark. I will become a mage.