Queen's Reach Academy was one of the four academies in Valurion. The prestigious academy was located within Queen's Reach itself, and so it was named in respect to the great city.
This great city in question was very small, but it was the ceremonial capital of Eldermead, where noble lineages ran deep and dwelled richly.
There were even rumours that the mysterious and powerful Queen of the Finelands lingered in the city itself.
For the travel to Queen's Reach, the young aspirants were offered two transportation options.
The first option was by standard carriage, which would take about two days. The second option was by a portal, manifested by a greedy mage, leading straight to the ceremonial city.
The second came at a very steep price which the majority couldn't afford, but the thought of not having to risk beast encounters by carriage was daunting.
At the end of that day, only a few managed to afford the portal, mostly nobles of course.
Out of care for Mirielle and Jakob, Darien squandered all the money he had acquired from his hunt the previous day, just for their quick and safe travel.
"Are you frightened?"
He asked Mirielle before they stepped into the portal.
Her face was long and pale, leaving him unsure if she was teleportation-nervous or if it was the fact of leaving home behind.
"Grandma has never been alone in that house before. How do you expect me to feel? She didn't even seem sad that I'm leaving."
"Well, Grandma is smart. She knows sadness won't do any good. Jakob? Are you nervous?"
Darien's query was met with a snort from Jakob. There was a relaxed, confident smile on his face as if he were at the edge of falling asleep, as the portal sucked the trio.
"Nope, I'm not nervous. I've been waiting for this for years. Queen's Reach Academy? Let the nobles act high and mighty. They'll see."
"Not everything's about impressing people."
"Haha. It is."
The portal transit came to an end, dropping off the passengers at the wondrous city of Queen's Reach, just in time for what appeared to be the Inducting Day Ceremony.
It was a vibrant late morning, the sun cresting gently over the sumptuous rooftops of the small but opulent capital.
Darien and his friends joined the gathered group of familiar, young faces.
Opposite to what the young souls thought, their arrival wasn't straight to the academy gates.
Immediately they reached a knowing size, the city's procedures introduced them to the grand coliseum at the edge of the city, a massive structure draped in royal silks.
'Hmmm. Is this some noble pomp?'
Darien muttered under his breath when he realized he should have seen this coming simply by the breathtaking sight of the city.
This was a noble city, probably running on magic too, a city with cobbled roads and treetops sprouting from within stoneworks.
A city with resplendent canals that slithered between every estate, providing countless fountains. It seemed the colors of the ruling noble house of Eldermead must be jade green because the entire city was cloaked in the color's gleam.
All aspirants who arrived and were still arriving for the induction were led to a valley creek, while many unfamiliar individuals—most likely nobles of high-ranking status, mages, and Knights—took seats in the almost empty arena.
There was a special booth for the duke, his family, and closer noble families, beautifully ornamented and decorated. It was a special day and indeed a noble pomp because the royal family was in attendance to spectate the screening exercise.
At the creekside, the aspirants stood in rows under the glowing sun. Some of them began to sweat before real progress was made.
Their names had been marked earlier, but they were to be grouped not by age, height, or physique, but by origin.
Every fifteen minutes, a horn was blown and names from the parchment scroll were called aloud by a bald, elderly man in ceremonial silver who didn't identify himself.
"Today's sorting is of the soul, not only of the body. Queen's Reach chooses only those with promise."
"Sons and daughters of the Southern Vale, step forth!"
At the proclamation, the aspirants who could trace their origin to the Southern Vale village next to Lanthold trudged forward to a spot.
"Stones from Brynnfield!"
As more nativities were called, the aspirants slowly dispersed in groups. Under the eyes of powerful figures, no one dared to fall in the group they weren't truly part of.
At the mention of Brynnfield, Jakob silently waved to Mirielle and Darien before moving to join his indigenous siblings. Mirielle eventually left Darien's side when those from Lanthold were called.
"Gold Rings of the city!"
And lastly, the group of immigrants and foreign-born aspirants:
"The Heavenly Misplaced!"
Darien humbly fell in line with his group. He was surprised to see that they were actually tangible in size, not too few as he had thought.
At the end of the grouping, the bald man turned away, and the proceeding was claimed by the perceived examiner, a Transcendent Knight.
The Knight appeared like a charming young man, the kind that many girls would likely fawn over. He had a great aura, most likely because he had fully mastered his Primordial Flow. And he paced before speaking.
"I'm not here to welcome you, nor am I here to smile. You've been sorted somehow, doesn't concern me. What matters now is what's in front of you and whether you can survive it, because there isn't enough space for all your dreams in the Duke's Order."
As the Knight's words sank in, Darien began to hear the soft, frantic murmurs ripple through the crowd around him.
"Do you think they'll make us duel?"
"Only a quarter of us will be accepted. The rest would leave… if alive."
"Nobles always get special treatment… we're just here to fill the numbers."
"What if we get sent home today? Would we be given some reception?"
It seemed the girl he had heard last had already fixed her mind on failing the screening.
Darien didn't mind their words; he only focused on listening so he wouldn't miss something important.
The Transcendent Knight stopped pacing and fixed his gaze on the sea of young faces, letting silence thicken the air before he finally declared:
"There are over three hundred of you. The calculations have been done. Only forty-eight of you will earn passage into the Academy. That means we'll need four rounds. You'll fight one-on-one, tournament-style, and the winners advance. Some of you will be given second chances depending on the heat's balance, but if you're relying on that, best turn around now."
The great Knight let the ripple effect of his words settle before he continued. He proceeded to outline the regulations of the screening exercise.
"It'll be raw duels, completely straightforward to disarm your enemy or hold at bladepoint. No magic use from some of you that might be here after underwhelming talents. No fatal blows. I'll stop any madness before it escalates, but I won't stop it kindly.
Any weapon of choice is allowed. Bring your weapons forward. They'll be inspected. After that, you'll receive your number."
The final order was given, and the coliseum paced up after it.
The children slimmed into single lines of their groups with their weapons in their hands. Those without weapons were given the privilege to borrow for the time being.
Darien caressed the hilt of his katana just to be sure it was with him while he looked around in admiration of the arena.
Several minutes later, the weapon inspections were complete, and numbers were assigned to each aspirant.
Darien received the number 307. The largeness of the number gave him some discomfort.
At the bottom row of the rightmost stand in the coliseum, the aspirants gathered, still within their groups. All around them, the arena was dotted scarcely with spectators, the likes of seasoned mages, knights, and even senior academics who would soon graduate.
Apart from the presence of close noble families, the duke's grand booth was technically empty. The only person of his nuclear blood present was his son and heir, Vincent Velgrane, who awakened a very rare mystical affinity with his twin sister.
Instead of being within the Academy walls, he took the leisure to come and experience some sort of entertainment.
Since the arena was vast, it was decided that two duels would take place simultaneously to quicken the pace of the event.
A second seasoned Knight stepped forward to assist the primary evaluator, both taking charge of one half of the sandy field each.
With their presence, the event officially began. Four names were called out, one from each group—A, B, C, and D—and they were split into two pairs for the first round.
"First pair: Number 6 and Number 70!"
"Second pair: Number 118 and Number 296!"
The announcement echoed through the coliseum, causing several aspirants to jolt upright. Darien was surprised to see that Number 70 was Jakob, and he was part of the first pair.
Jakob confidently stepped out, armed with a regular steel spear this time. His bamboo spear was changed outright.
Darien remembered how he had boasted earlier that he wasn't afraid, that he would hold his own no matter what.
'He said he wasn't frightened… well, let's see.'