Chapter 4: First trial

Following that tumultuous event, Asrar withdrew into solitude once again, since the only companions he knew within the entire academy were his two roommates, who could not truly be deemed as friends.

For the next two hours, he was engrossed in the pages of the fantasy book, having resolved to finish its contents before departing since he wasn't feeling tired. He knew that when the hour arrived, he must hasten from the great hall to attend his next lesson under the tutelage of Master Tracker Keiran, a master in the art of tracking and pursuit, be it of beasts, humans, or even other creatures.

Tales of Master Keiran's prowess as a tracker had reached Asrar's ears. The former was relatively renowned throughout the kingdom for his skill in the art of hunting and tracking. It was said that even the most nefarious of criminals did not escape his notice until he was eventually recruited by the prestigious Black Hand Academy.

Obviously, Raven's Perch, as a branch, possessed no sovereign power, and the recruitment of instructors was a prerogative solely held by the hidden headquarters of the Black Hand Academy, a location known to none of its students.

And among all its branches, Raven's Perch was regarded with little fondness, as evidenced by the dilapidated state of some of its dormitories and the prolonged lack of an alchemy master. Yet this was not surprising; after all, Raven's Perch was relatively new, known for its lenient acceptance trials, and thus its prestige lagged behind that of its sister branches.

Asrar persevered in his reading of the book, and his week-long absorption was not in vain. Though it was but a fanciful tale of a prince reclaiming his rightful throne, he discovered many newfound knowledge, previously unknown to his former self.

For instance, he discovered that one need not be born into noble blood to attain the privileges of the aristocracy. Through acts of bravery in war or significant contributions to society, such as the creation of a groundbreaking invention or the performance of a grand and selfless deed that won the admiration of the king, a commoner could rise to nobility. Other paths existed as well, such as aligning oneself with the princes and ascending the ranks, and many other such ways also existed.

Asrar found his former self to be really laid back, as he was even ignorant of the manner in which Harold had earned his title. He surmised that it was not related to war, since his father had never left their side for extended periods and Harold's lack of martial prowess was well known.

From the pages of the book, he also gleaned knowledge of certain innovations in the kingdom, which, while rudimentary, relied greatly upon the harnessing of magical energy.

An instance of such inventions was the magic bulb, a device Asrar had both witnessed back in cauldrontrunk and here within the halls of the academy. These magic bulbs drew upon the energy of nearby enchanted relics to emit a warm, glowing light at the mere touch of any hand, regardless of one's ability to wield magic.

He was really interested in what he saw and read, impressed by the ingenuity of the kingdom's engineers and scientists, despite their relative lack of resources and despite being in an era of limited technological advancement. These inventions served as a testament to the potential of innovation and creativity when given the chance.

However, a notion which elicited a grim expression upon his face was the knowledge that the practice of healing - formerly known in his past life as medicine - was deemed blasphemy by the Monastery of Light.

It seems like getting some achievements with my knowledge is out of the question for the time being...

For several hours, he remained ensconced in the book, lost in its fantastical world, as students garbed in black and regal purplish cloaks flowed in and out of the great hall.

Time slipped by, and the first warm beams of the sun finally graced the tinted glass of the hall, casting a resplendent spectrum of color throughout the place. And in but a fleeting moment, the deep toll of a massive bell echoed throughout the academy, signaling the dawn of a new day.

Few students lingered in the great hall, yet as the bell chimed, Asrar alone leapt to his feet, hastening towards the training grounds where Master Keiran's tracking class was to be held.

Those who remained were draped in either black or purple cloaks. The reason they remained was due to the privilege their cloaks granted, permitting them to forego a select number of classes without a reduction in their merit points.

The black cloaks held the right to absent themselves from two days' worth of lessons each month, while the purples could evade a full week's worth of instruction each month.

In this magical world, the passage of time is measured a bit differently than it is back on earth. The months were comprised of 30 moonlit nights, a year was comprised of 360 days of sunshine and shadow, and a week was composed of 7 sacred days. Yet, the naming of these days and months was deeply tied to the ever-changing whims of the weather and seasons, making each name unique and rich with symbolism.

The way that classes could be skipped at the Black Hand Academy was set up differently for students in black and purple cloaks. Asrar found this setup to be clever because the academy was teaching its students that having more power meant possessing more freedom.

He abandoned the oil lamp and leather-bound tome on the wooden bench and hastened his pace as he exited the great hall. With one last glance backwards, he strode beneath the large stone entrance and made straight for the training grounds.

From all corners of the big academy, multitudes of youthful faces could be discerned, some engaged in lively conversation and others rubbing their exhausted eyes and yawning as they made their way to their respective classes.

In the academies of the Tvar kingdom, the concept of grades was unknown. Here, students of varying ages, be they 14, 16, or even 18, might all find themselves seated together within the same classroom. It was not the passage of time that determined one's worth, but rather the measure of skill and wisdom they had accrued. To earn the right to graduation, a student must be first wearing a purple cloak and then pass one of three trials: the Shadow's Gauntlet, the Midnight's Ordeal, or the Shadow's Ascension. The first was deemed the simplest, whilst the last, the Shadow's Ascension, was known to be the most arduous of all and was thus rarely selected as the students' path to graduation.

Though rumors persisted that a fourth, more difficult trial had been erased from the academy's annals due to its insurmountability and that no student in the academy's long and illustrious history had ever overcome it. Yet the truth of these rumors remained a mystery to Asrar and his peers, shrouded in shadow and doubt.

The journey from the great hall to the training grounds was straightforward, but to gain entrance from the main gate, he had to take a detour and join the stream of students arriving from the dormitories. And since in the morning of the day, the stone lions remained frozen and still, he didn't veer away from the enchanted garden in order to arrive faster.

When he cast a sidelong gaze upon the enchanted garden, Asrar suddenly felt a flicker of unease as he perceived a fleeting shadow darting amidst the flora within. This sighting was a cause for alarm. After all, no one should have the ability to linger within the garden's bounds once night has claimed the land. So, how could there be any presence at this hour?

The sun has just risen, so I should be the first person to pass by this place. No one has any need to pass here after all the classes and training grounds are in the other direction....

Despite his bewilderment, Asrar had no thought of venturing into the garden. Since the mysterious figure could well portend danger. Furthermore, he dared not risk losing any more merit points by neglecting Master Keiran's lesson.

So, he hastened his pace and soon came upon two familiar faces, belonging to his two roommates. Like him, they were loners and sought refuge in each other's company during the lengthy lessons. Though they were not true friends, neither wished to draw unwanted attention by standing alone.

He breathed a sigh of relief and made his way to the training grounds with them.

Nestled deep within a secluded forest, the academy was surrounded by sprawling fields and meadows. As a result, the Raven Perch placed great emphasis on outdoor training and physical trials. Students honed their abilities in the rugged wilderness and learned to traverse the challenging terrain. The training grounds were a vast expanse, split into two parts: a dense forest and a meadow transformed into a makeshift obstacle course. Furthemore, inside the training grounds, the structures and buildings were constructed of hard stone or rough-hewn wood, adorned with intricate carvings, symbols, and sigils hinting at the mystical and supernatural.

These structures also included areas for physical training, such as obstacle courses, weapons training ranges, and areas for practicing stealth and parkour.

In the middle of the meadow sat a forty-year-old man wearing light leather armor and a wool cloak, with a leather-wrapped bow in his hands. He was Master Keiran, the one responsible for training the green cloaked students in honing their tracking skills.

Evidently, green, black, and purple cloaks all had different masters, save for the new alchemy master, who must enshrine all students at once due to the lack of alchemy instructors.

The middle aged instructor was not loathed by the students, yet neither was he held in high regard, since he always reeked of coldness and exuded an unapproachable aura.

The place was crowded with students from all kinds of different backgrounds, but they all had one thing in common: they all wore a green cloak, amounting to more than two hundred individuals. However, the meadow, broad and sprawling, could easily contain them all.

Waiting for everyone to arrive, the instructor stood by, his piercing gaze observing each student as they filtered in. A hush fell over the group as the minutes ticked by, and just as the tension was beginning to mount, the instructor reached into the depths of his clothing and retrieved a glimmering orb. With a deft flick of his wrist, he tapped it twice.

Suddenly, the orb pulsed with strange power, sending magical waves rippling throughout the field. Asrar stood in the middle of the crowd, his cloak rustling as the magic flowed past him, barely brushing against his skin. However, Asrar and all the others stood calmly; they had long gotten used to this.

The trio, who often were forced to form a team together, had agreed to blend in, staying in the middle of the crowd at every lesson in order not to attract attention.

The magic waves abruptly faded away, and from the orb a strange, hoarse voice sounded out, "Snowmelt month, day one, morning roll call: no absentees from the green cloaks."

Master Keiran inclined his head and strode toward his gathered students. With a measuring gaze, he addressed the class for the first time, "Today marks our third session of the year. Those familiar with me know I am not a scholar; I rely on practice over talk. New students should note that each year begins with basics before I cast you into the forest, for true hunters are made only through experience." His voice was cold yet carried a hypnotic quality as he paced back and forth amongst the students.

"Past years offered leniency, but the new headmistress has altered that," Master Keiran declared. "If you take issue, speak with her, not me. From today onward, every lesson will involve a trial, with consequences for failure: loss of merit points." The announcement sent shockwaves through the assembled students, leaving even Asrar and his companions dumbfounded as they exchanged stunned glances.

"Quiet!" cried Master Keiran, his arms raised high, his voice echoing through the field. However, from the front ranks of students, a red-haired young lady stood tall, her gray eyes remaining serene as she inquired. "What of the other classes? Will they also have trials? Would this plan not strip countless students of their well-earned merit points, resulting in mass expulsions? The academy would not want to forfeit the patronage of the noble families, would they?" Her words struck a chord with those gathered, and they whispered their agreement, nodding in silent accord.

Although Asrar may not have been the most gregarious of students, but he still took note of those who stood out from the crowd. Among the green-cloaked students, some stood out from the rest—one of them was this young lady who shone in every lesson and answered even the most difficult questions with ease. Asrar learned that she was 14 years old, the same age as himself, and her name was Elysia Waverly of House Waverly. Many whispered her name in admiration; she was not only intelligent but beautiful and elegant as well.

Master Keiran remained still for a moment, his eyes closed as if in deep thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured and calm. "I am not privy to the details, but if the headmistress has decreed it, then it is not for mere children to question or find flaws in it." The young lady's brow furrowed at his words, yet Master Keiran paid her no heed. With two crisp claps of his hands, several guards appeared, bearing a massive cage, obscured by a veil of dark cloth.

He didn't say much as he lifted the fabric, revealing a dozen or so large and fiery wild boars with a shaved pattern on their rear skin and a burn mark on their left ears.

Asrar and his two dormmates stood right in the middle of the throngs of students, their view obscured. They relied solely on the gasps and hushed whispers of those around them to gain a sense of the unfolding events. Yet, all they could distinguish were words such as "cage" and "boar", leaving them in the dark about what was happening

Master Keiran scanned the sea of faces, his voice ringing clear for all to hear. "These boars will be set loose within the forest. Gather in groups of three and be swift. For each boar you capture, you will receive a bonus of two merit points. But should you succeed in capturing it alive, the reward would be five merit points instead." At the mention of earning merit points, a spark of excitement kindled in the hearts of all those present. In the academy, such tokens of achievement held immeasurable value.

With a wave of his hand, several guards nearby sprang into action, flinging open the cage. The mighty boars within charged at the guards, their fury palpable. Yet, with a flick of his wrist, Master Keiran unleashed a blazing arrow from his bow. The bolt spun with deadly precision, striking one of the beasts in the eye and sending it crashing to the ground. The remaining boars recoiled in fear, fleeing towards the forest as fast as their legs could carry them.

Silence fell over the students as they gazed upon the scene, struck by the swift action of Master Keiran. He then spoke, saying, "Time is of the essence; you have but three hours at your disposal. Should you prove unable to carry the beasts back, bring only their ears as proof. But mark well; the ear must bear a burn mark, or it shall not count. And heed this warning: for any team that fails to capture a boar, the whole team will get ten merit points deducted." A stunned silence descended upon the assembly before chaos erupted as the noble students discarded their decency and rushed towards the forest with reckless abandon, tumbling over one another in their haste.

"Come on, we must make haste!" cried Baldwinn, his round face contorted with worry. Even the normally reserved Gawain was spurred into action, his voice ringing out with frustration. "By God's Bones! Who said it was wise to linger in the middle of the crowd?" he bellowed, his feet pounding the ground as he raced forward.

Despite his chubby form, Baldwinn was nimble on his feet, and he spun around to face Gawain, his eyes blazing with fury. "It was your idea, you scoundrel!" he roared.

Asrar trailed close behind his two companions, his mind lost in contemplation. The frenzied rush of the crowd threatened to separate the three, with bodies jostling and shoving all around them.

Sudenly, In the midst of the mad dash, Asrar made an unexpected turn to the right, narrowly avoiding collision with other students. He darted straight towards the fallen boar, causing his two roommates to shout out in disbelief. "Blast it!" cried one. "What are you doing?" exclaimed the other.

The other green cloaks who were caught up in the chaos of the hunt paid no heed to the trio and instead felt a sense of relief that some of the participants were falling behind. Meanwhile, the instructor, who was overseeing the hunt, took a seat at a nearby wooden table and began to read a book awaiting the end of the three hour time limit. A nearby hourglass kept track of the time as the grains of sand steadily slipped through.

"By the gods, what are you doing, Asrar?" Baldwinn yelled, his anger boiling over, and he almost wanted to beat the guy to a pulp and drag him along with him.

After finishing whatever he was doing, Asrar sprung to the others, "I was just examining the markings on its back and ears, so we know we're hunting the right boar." With a deft movement, Asrar tucked away something into the folds of his green cloak. He spoke quickly to his friends, who were growing increasingly agitated.

Gawain shouted in amazement, "Yes! That is actually clever!" The three roommates finally strode forth towards the dense woods, followed by the final batch of students. Everyone was in fervent pursuit of the coveted boars, and some would stoop to any means to secure one for themselves...

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