Seraphina glanced nervously around the training ground. It was unlike those two to be this late. The mixed combat class was about to begin, and she needed to speak to them before that. She paced up and down, resisting the urge to bite her nails. It was a terrible habit that the High Priestess often scolded her for.

  “What has you so on edge, Sera?” a voice rang out. Seraphina turned to find Mary approaching.

  “Greetings, Mary,” she said, waving. “Have you seen Roland and Aldric? There is a serious matter I need to bring to their attention.”

  “You must really be on edge,” Mary commented, narrowing her eyes slightly. “You do not usually speak so formally with me.” Seraphina deflated slightly.

  “Can you keep a secret?” she asked. Mary’s eyes widened, her lips twisting into an excited grin. She nodded, coming in close. “I was eavesdropping on the Royal Court’s council gathering yesterday.”

  “Sera!” Mary called out, before lowering her voice again. “When did you become so daring?”

  “I have been doing it since I was a child,” Seraphina explained, looking down in shame. “I just…” Mary put a soft hand on her shoulder.

  “I understand,” Mary said. “I have done my fair share of eavesdropping when my mother met with the other guild leaders. What did you hear that upset you so?” Seraphina frowned, unsure exactly how much she should reveal.

  “It is about Roland and Aldric,” she said carefully. “Their appointment as the Archmage’s and Commanders’ apprentices has caused some controversy, and all three of us being enrolled here…” Her frown softened as she remembered how the High Priestess defended her position in the academy.

  “Those two need to prove themselves worthy of their station,” Mary surmised. Seraphina nodded.

  “And if they do not, it could throw the authority of the Crown into question,” Seraphina added. “I have known them my whole life. They all, especially our King, are good people.”

  “I have no doubt,” Mary said, rolling her eyes slightly. She wanted to say more, but her thoughts were interrupted by more voices approaching. Lucas, Aldric, and Roland rounded the corner, waving as they approached. “Seems like now is your chance.”

  Seraphina nodded and quickly approached them, leading Roland and Aldric aside. In hushed whispers, she quickly explained everything she had overheard the day before. Both of the boys, formerly in high spirits, grew more earnest as she spoke. When she finished, neither responded immediately. They both took a moment to process the information.

  “Morgan Ashton…” Roland muttered. “Do you suppose…”

  “He mentioned Aldric and Astra’s encounter in the square,” Seraphina said. “And he referred to her as his daughter.”

  “So, since she can’t fight for herself, her father stepped in?” Aldric asked, sneering.

  “I do not think it is that simple,” Roland explained. “Mister Ashton seems to be a powerful man. Power is not gained easily. He might have been aiming for Vincent and Astra to gain our stations to increase his influence, and now we have blocked that avenue.”

  “Such a blatant scheme to undermine the Court’s power could never work,” Aldric scoffed. “Surely our mentors are smart enough to prevent that.”

  “This is not about intelligence,” Roland said. “It seems that everyone thought that Astra and Vincent would gain these apprenticeships. Choosing someone else would require justifying it to the people of Angenia. They had no such justification until…”

  “Until the tournament,” Seraphina continued.

  “I knew it,” Aldric sneered. “We’re just pawns in their game.”

  “Be that as it may,” Roland said. “Their moves have granted us opportunities we would never see otherwise. I do not mind playing along for the time being.” Aldric wanted to fight against this, but then he looked around. He could not deny that he was living a better life now than he had in Valexia, even if he longed for his forest. He might never get used to all the opulence he now found himself surrounded by, but as his eyes flitted between Roland and Seraphina, he thought that he could perhaps stomach it.

  “We need to improve, and quickly,” he said. “If we keep performing as poorly as we have been, then it becomes easier to question the decision to appoint us.”

  “We are already giving it our all,” Roland said. “It will be enough.” Again, Aldric wanted to argue, but before he could get a word in, the last two figures entered the training ground. Mister Kainsly and Captain Bursio walked side by side, and the students almost instinctively fell in line next to one another, ready for another day of learning. Roland and Aldric braced themselves, ready for whatever lessons came their way.

  The day brought forth many lessons. Chief among them was how devastatingly behind their peers they were. Roland’s martial skill was formidable, but when the element of sorcery was added to the fray, he was quickly overwhelmed. Aldric felt about as competent as a hay target, only good enough to take a few strikes before collapsing. As they dispersed after classes were over, Aldric knew more than ever just how bad their positions were. The previous two days had bought him and Roland a bit of grace, but it would run out soon.

  They needed to improve, but Aldric was of no use to Roland in his current state. He needed to be able to take a hit and keep fighting. His body had always been frail, despite his life in the wilderness. He saw no way to prevent damage, but he knew that was not his only option. He walked right past the line of people into the church, ignoring the calls for him to stop

  “High Priestess!” he shouted through the halls, storming around them with such purpose that those around him parted from his way without even considering stopping him. He kept calling out, kept meandering the halls, until finally a voice called from behind him.

  “Aldric! This is a church, show some decorum!” Aeliana rushed over to him, a stern look etched onto her face.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “I need you to teach me how to heal injuries,” Aldric said.

  “You come to make a scene in my church, then have the gall to make demands?” Aeliana chased. “I should have you-”

  “Please,” Aldric said, his gaze dropping to the floor. Aeliana’s righteous fury all but evaporated. Aldric had so much confidence and bravado that she forgot the scared child that stood before her.

  “Come with me,” she said, leading him to a small room at the rear of the church. Inside was only a bed. The room was warm and quiet.

  “What is this?” Aldric asked.

  “This is where we bring those who we can not save,” Aeliana explained. “So that they may die in peace, with their loved ones.” Aldric considered this for a moment. He knew the stench of death, but could not find a trace of it in this room. “So, why do you need me to teach you healing magic? We do not even know if you can perform it.”

  “The Archmage told me,” Aldric said. He gestured widely with his arms. “My lens could colour the whole rainbow, or so he said, at least.” Aeliana suppressed her shock and made a mental note to berate Eldrin for withholding such information. “I thought that this would be the most useful magic to learn.”

  “What makes you think so?” Aeliana asked, her curiosity piqued.

  “If I can heal myself, then I can train with Roland,” Aldric explained. “I have felt his strength. I was nearly killed by it. I know he can do more than he is doing, but he is scared of his power. If we train together, he can gain confidence in his strikes.”

  “You wish to put your own body on the line for his sake?” Aeliana asked, unable to mask her shock any further. She shook her head. “Aldric, this is not something I can teach you. I am sorry, but even I learned through trial and error. It was not easy, but I do not think you will struggle.” She took his hands in hers. “You are unbelievably strong, and you have a good heart. You and Roland both. I am sure you will perform feats beyond all of our expectations.” Aldric blushed at the sudden praise and quickly turned away. “And also, if you ever make a scene like that in my church again, I will see to it personally that you wind up in this room again. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, High Priestess,” Aldric said, unable to meet her gaze. In that moment, more so than ever before, he felt true fear. He quickly pushed past her and bolted out of the church. Her words echoed in his mind. Trial and error. If that was what it took, then Aldric was ready for it.

  There was always a cost that came with power. Aldric knew that better than anyone. As he sat in his room, legs crossed, breathing steady, he prepared himself to make his payment. The steel of the knife glinted in the soft candlelight that enveloped the room. For a brief moment, he caught the gaze of his reflection. The eyes staring back at him were dim. He glanced away, not wanting to look himself in the eyes as the tip of the knife pressed against his palm.

  Start small. Only draw the smallest drops of blood. He winced as he felt his skin split. His eyes closed, and he felt the light dancing inside him again. The Archmage had given him the broad categories of sorcery and how they fell across the rainbow. He had seen it with his own eyes, too. The red glimmer of a body being mended. He could not see the colours within, but he could feel them. As he rifled through the beams, gathering them together, some spots felt hotter, others colder. Red, like fire, he figured, would be hot, so he guided the warmest light to his palm.

  A small drop of blood dripped from his hand, but he paid it no mind. His eyes were locked on the point where the knife touched his skin as he crystallised more of the warm light at the site of his injury. As he gathered more of it, he could feel even the slight variations among the warm light, peeling off more layers until only the hottest remained. As that hot beam struck the small cut, a flash of red coarsed over it. It had closed before his eyes.

  Aldric kept his breathing level, even as he felt the urge to leap to his feet and scream to the heavens. The work was not done. He pressed the knife to his skin again, this time making a much larger cut. The light all but scattered as the pain shot through his arm, but he patiently gathered it again, focusing it along the length of the cut. It took longer, and the length of the cut was difficult to capture within the focused ray of red light.

  This was a weakness. All the light that mingled throughout his body was powerful, but it was diluted. The Archmage told him his lens tinted his mana. There had to be a way to alter it, to produce more red. He focused on his chest, where he felt the heat of his kiln blazing. He pictured a round aperture right before it, through which his mana poured. He had seen diagrams depicting this, but never understood their meaning until recently. Now he had to tap into his limited knowledge. He solidified the vision of the lens within his body, then willed it to move. At the same time, he shifted the light against his skin, trying to feel the relationship between the two.

  Minutes passed, slowly morphing into hours. The world had fallen away. All Aldric felt was the light and the movement of his lens. He could feel it. Could see how small movements altered the outpouring of light within him. Now he needed it to do something else. He traced the red light from where it touched his skin back to his lens, trying to focus on the exact spot that emitted it. Once he found it, he pictured widening that spot, letting it overtake more and more of his lens. He was careful, moving slowly, only pushing forward when the changes in his body reflected the changes he envisioned.

  The night crept on, but before long, he finally managed. The light within him was uniform, all across his body. He could not resist the smirk that crept across his face as he slowly dragged the knife across his skin again. The light scattered, just like it did before, but it did not matter this time. It was all red, and the dancing light shimmered across the wound, closing it almost as fast as it was made. He had done it, but this was not enough. He gritted his teeth, smiling widely. He had to know the limits, and as the knife travelled cleanly through his hand, he knew he would find them.

  The next morning, Roland was awakened by a loud pounding against his door. He quickly leapt up and ran to open it, finding Aldric looking bewildered on the other side. Roland’s heart dropped as his eyes took in the state of the smaller boy. He was dishevelled, more so than usual. He looked almost manic. More concerning than that, though, were the streaks of red all across his arm.

  “Aldric, what happened to you!” Roland asked, stepping outside and trying to find the injury that caused this.

  “I can keep up,” Aldric wheezed. “I did it, Roland. Get your sword, and come with me.” He did not wait for Roland to respond, running down the hall. Roland quickly obliged, grabbing his sword from inside his room and running after Aldric until they both wound up outside, near the tree that had not yet recovered from Roland’s strike.

  “Aldric, please tell me what is going on!” Roland insisted, stopping beside Aldric, who was breathing heavily.

  “Hit me,” Aldric demanded.

  “What?” Roland asked, confused.

  “Roland, I did it,” Aldric said again, putting his hands on Roland’s shoulders. “Healing magic. I managed it. We can train together now.”

  “I do not understand,” Roland said. “How did you…” The pieces clicked in Roland’s mind. “You did this to yourself?!”

  “Yes, but…” Aldric said, trying to catch his breath. “You heard Seraphina. We are in danger. You and I need to improve. You need to make peace with your strength. That means training against and hurting someone else. I need to learn to cast magic reliably. Pain is a very good instructor. I could not do this until I learned healing, but now I can take the damage that you can deal. So, hit me.” Roland looked down at Aldric, trying to reconcile what he had heard. Aldric had hurt himself, tortured himself, all for their sake.

  “Aldric, I can not hurt you just-” Roland began.

  “You can, and you will,” Aldric insisted. “Please. Neither of us wants to be kicked out. This is the fastest way for us both to address our flaws. I need you, Roland, and you need me.” Aldric extended his hand the way he had seen men do when making agreements. Roland eyed him up and down, still struggling to make peace with what Aldric had done. Unfortunately, Aldric was right, and though he disagreed with the methods, Roland could not argue with the ends.

  “Alright,” Roland said, shaking Aldric’s hand. “But we start slow.”