Examination
Martel continued to go over his plan with Shadi in his head, even after he woke the next morning. It took him a while to rember the significance of this particular Glunday; the most important date since his arrival to Morcaster, only to be eclipsed by his eventual graduation day. Today, he took the novice examination and beca an acolyte. Soon, he could lay aside his brown robe.
He still had yet to decide whether he wanted the blue colour of a watermage, treading the road of a weathermage, or the whites of an airmage to eventually set sail as a seamage. He would have to make a decision before he could change attire, but at least it would be within his grasp. Once the examination had ended and no longer weighed on him, he would sit down and make his choice. And if he ever changed his mind, the similarities in spellwork between the two paths should allow him to move from one to the other.
But first things first. Before Martel made his decision about being an acolyte, it was ti to pass his examination as a novice.
***
Thanks to his Khivan clock, Martel arrived just before the bell rang, entering the Hall of Elents. He imdiately felt a little unsure of himself, perhaps almost intimidated, seeing no less than four mbers of the faculty turn and look at him. Mistress Juliana, for all the help she had given him, still made Martel feel nervous by her very presence. He felt less apprehensive about Mistress Vana, though he was keenly aware that she was the one to impress.
As for Reynard, Martel only felt anger, which he knew would not help him with the exacting spellwork he was about to do.
Lastly, he looked at Master Alastair, and the short man's smile helped to reassure the novice. Yes, Martel knew he was up to the task. He would not let distractions get in the way.
"Martel, exactly on ti," Master Alastair remarked as the bell began to toll. In response, the novice bowed his head. "Once Master Fenrick arrives, we'll begin."
"An awful lot of teachers to evaluate one student," Reynard spoke gruffly. "Does the boy need all the help he can get?"
"Given how swiftly Martel has progressed through his studies, I thought it prudent to have more eyes for his evaluation," Mistress Juliana retorted. With her hair tightly bound, her face nearly expressionless, she looked stern as always. "Besides, you might all find it interesting to witness how far he has co. He is a testant to the Lyceum and its qualities."
His confidence bolstered by hearing this, Martel stood with his back straight, forgetting about Reynard to focus on his spells instead. He had practised and prepared; he knew what to do.
The door to the chamber opened, and Master Fenrick shuffled inside. He gave a surprised glance across the gathering, adjusting his spectacles. "I didn't realise we'd be a crowd."
"It makes you wonder," Reynard murmured.
"Now that we are all here," Master Alastair interjected, raising his voice, "we can begin if Martel feels ready." He looked expectantly at the novice, as did the others.
Martel nodded and walked to the middle of the hall, standing on the earthen floor with the ring of water circling around. The five teachers all took a few steps back, arranging themselves to observe him.
Holding out his hands, palms downwards, Martel called upon the wind. Rather than push it into a direction, he let it circle itself endlessly, creating a small whirlwind. "The opposite of air is earth, yet with a little persuasion, the two may still et." As he spoke, a pillar of earth rose up in the middle of the whirlwind until he scattered the dirt, allowing the pieces to be caught up in his maelstrom of air.
Letting the wind slowly die down, Martel caught the earth and pulled it back together into the pillar before he slowly allowed that to sink as well. It had cost him so of his spellpower to create and maintain such an effect, but looking at the faces around him, it seed to have been worth the effort.
Walking over to the edge of the canal, Martel held out his hand in the sa gesture as before. From the quiet waters, a column of liquid rose up to et the tips of his fingers. Almost sweating with effort, Martel continued with the spell. "Water and fire are opposites, yet here they already are together. But when you remove one from the other, you are left with this." Clenching his other hand and slowly pulling it back, Martel drew out the heat from the column of water, turning it into ice. He held the effect for several monts until he released the cold block, and it descended down into the canal.
"I believe we have seen enough," Master Alastair declared while looking at his fellow teachers with a satisfied smile. "Certainly as Master of Elents, I feel impressed with this performance."
So of the others nodded and mumbled in agreent. "No reason to prolong this unnecessarily," Mistress Vana assented.
"The boy might be done with your part, but I have yet to begin," Reynard growled. He walked over to the doors and grabbed two staves, leaning against the wall.
As the Master of War returned to the middle of the hall, the other teachers stepped back to provide more space. Martel extended his hand to take the closest staff.
Reynard pulled back. "That one belongs to personally," he spoke in the sa tone of voice as before. "This one is good enough for you." He threw the other quarterstaff, which Martel caught. "Take position, novice. Show us what you can do."
Martel hefted the weapon a few tis and let one hand run over the wood. Normal weight, no obvious cracks or weaknesses; it seed to be like any other weapon from the school's armoury. Placing one foot behind the other, presenting a smaller target while holding his weapon ready to parry, Martel stood ready to fight.
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