Silas finally managed to force the tiny pearl button through his collar. He shrugged his heavy wool coat over his damp shoulders. He desperately tried to smooth his messy hair back with his hands, but it was useless.
"Follow me, Master Crane," the immaculate servant said, not waiting for an answer. He turned on his heel and walked into the fortress.
Silas gave his father one last pleading look. Baron Crane only offered a stiff nod. Silas swallowed the lump in his throat and followed the servant.
The interior of the Count's stronghold was entirely built from black granite. There were no tapestries on the walls. No paintings or decorative vases. The Count valued strength. The walls were lined with racks of polished steel weapons and armor sets dented from actual combat. The air inside was cooler than the sweltering courtyard, but it felt heavy. It felt oppressive. Nothing like the comforting Crane Castle back home.
Every step Silas took echoed loudly against the stone. The servant made no noise at all. They walked through long, vaulted corridors. Heavily armored guards stood at attention at every intersection. They held thick halberds and stared straight ahead. Silas tried not to look at them. He felt like a mouse walking through a den of sleeping wolves.
They reached a set of massive oak doors banded with iron. The servant pulled them open with effortless strength
"Even the Count's servants are stronger than our best warriors back home", Silas observed gravely.
"Wait here," the servant said. "The Count's assistant will arrive shortly."
Silas stepped inside. The heavy doors slammed shut behind him with an echoing thud.
The main hall was massive. High arched windows let in beams of dusty sunlight. But Silas was not looking at the architecture. He was looking at the people.
There were nearly forty other children in the room. They were all fifteen years old, the exact age of awakening. The sons and daughters of every Baron, Viscount, and landed knight under the Count's banner.
Silas immediately felt sick.
They wore tailored coats of deep reds, dark blues, and rich blacks. Their boots were polished to a mirror shine. Their family crests gleamed on their chests. They had good postures. They didn't slouch. Every single one of them looked perfect.
Silas stood near the back wall. His coat was wrinkled. His collar was crooked. His shirt underneath was still damp with sweat. He tried to blend into the castle walls, but it was impossible.
A group of three boys stood a few paces away. The tallest one had broad shoulders and thick hands. He noticed Silas and sneered.
"Look at this one," the tall boy said. His voice was loud enough for the surrounding kids to hear. "Did you walk behind your carriage all the way here?"
A few of the other children laughed. Silas kept his face blank. He did not want a fight. He just wanted to go home.
"I'm Julian Hawke," the tall boy said. He stepped closer. He tapped the silver crest on his chest. It was the crest of a Viscount. "My father commands the northern cavalry. Who are you supposed to be?"
"Silas Crane," Silas said quietly.
Julian raised an eyebrow. "Crane. The borderlands. Your people manage farms, don't they? I suppose it makes sense you look like a peasant. You probably spend all day digging in the dirt."
"I read mostly," Silas said. He really did.
Julian stared at him for a second. Then he laughed loudly. "You read. How terrifying. I hope your books teach you how to swing a sword. Because if you awaken a rank one affinity, Baron Crane will probably put you in his kitchen."
A girl standing next to Julian smiled sharply. "Don't be cruel, Julian. The kingdom needs cooks just as much as it needs warriors. Someone has to feed us when we join the vanguard."
Julian crossed his thick arms. "I'm not joining the vanguard, Elara. I'm going to the capital. My older brother awakened a rank four Wind affinity two years ago. My father expects me to awaken a rank five. I'm going to serve the King."
Silas listened to them boast. It was exhausting. They wanted to go to the capital. They wanted to fight on the front lines. They wanted to crush their enemies. Silas just couldn't relate. He just wanted to get this test over with and go back home.
The hall grew louder as more kids started comparing their lineages. They postured and flexed. Some of them even demonstrated basic martial stances, showing off their footwork. Silas watched helplessly. His younger brother knew more about martial arts than he did, and his brother was 5 years old.
Then, the heavy oak doors at the front of the hall swung open.
The room went dead silent instantly.
A man walked in. He wore a crisp, gray military uniform. He had a long, jagged scar running up the side of his neck. His eyes were the color of cold steel.
He stopped at the center of the room. He swept his gaze over the crowd of children. Silas felt a cold chill run down his spine when the man's eyes passed over him.
"I am Commander Vance," the man said. His voice was not loud, but it carried to every corner of the hall. "I am the personal assistant to the Count of Orestes. And I am the man who will oversee your awakening today."
No one moved. No one whispered. Even Julian stood perfectly rigid, his arrogance completely gone.
Commander Vance clasped his hands behind his back. "Look around you. Look at the crests on your coats. You are standing in this room today because you carry noble blood. But do not confuse yourselves. Your blood does not make you special."
Vance began to pace slowly in front of them. His heavy boots clicked rhythmically against the stone.
"In Koinos, nobility is not a birthright," Vance continued. "It is a transaction. The King grants land and titles to those who achieve greatness. Your fathers and grandfathers spilled their blood for this kingdom. They conquered territories. They slaughtered our enemies. They proved their worth through achievement. That is why you wear those crests."
Vance stopped pacing. He stared directly into the crowd.
"But Koinos does not tolerate weakness. We do not let titles rot in the hands of the unworthy. You all know the law of inheritance. Your achievements earn the title, but your power level dictates your rank."
Silas knew the law well. His father had drilled it into him since he was a child.
"If a man achieves greatness as a Rank five Archon, the King makes him a Count," Vance said. "But if that Count's children only becomes a rank three Ascendant, the family is demoted. They become Barons. And if the Baron's children only become rank two's or rank one's..."
Vance let the sentence hang in the air. The silence in the hall was suffocating.
"If you fail to become at least an Ascendant, your family loses everything upon your father's death," Vance said softly. "You become commoners. You will forfeit your estates. You will forfeit your wealth. You will be placed in the regular infantry, or sent to manage the supply lines. You will be nothing."
Silas swallowed hard. He looked at his hands. A rank one or two affinity meant a quiet life on the estate for now, but it meant ruin later. His father had told him to just be adequate. But adequate was a very thin line to walk.
"You must become Ascendants, and beyond," Vance declared. His voice echoed off the high ceiling. "You must push your affinities. You must train until your bones crack. You must at least preserve your heritage, or you will be discarded. Nobility demands perfection."
Vance unclasped his hands. He gestured to a small wooden table that had been set up near the back doors. A large silver bowl sat in the center of the table.
"The aptitude test is simple," Vance said, his tone shifting to pure instruction. "We don't use complicated rituals here. The Count prefers efficiency. Inside that silver bowl is pure water. It has been highly enhanced and saturated with raw mana by the Duke of the West himself."
Vance pointed to a small silver dagger resting next to the bowl.
"When I call your name, you will step forward. You will take the dagger. You will cut the skin of your thumb and let a single drop of your blood fall into the water. The enhanced mana will react instantly with the latent affinity in your veins. As a result, the water will change color to show your element. The violence of the reaction will determine your rank from one to six. The larger the reaction, the higher the rank."
A frail-looking boy near the front raised a trembling hand. "Sir?"
Vance stared at him. "Speak."
"Why do we use water?" the boy asked nervously. "My father said our family has a strong earth bloodline. Will the water still react?"
Vance did not smile. "It will react. The element does not matter. The Duke of the West possesses a rank six water affinity. He is an absolute master of his element. His mana is so dense, so perfectly refined, that it acts as a mirror for any lesser power. Technically, we could use earth or wind infused by the other Dukes. But water is fluid. It provides the clearest visual reaction. It leaves no room for debate or error."
The boy nodded quickly and lowered his hand.
Vance looked at the heavy doors behind the table. "The Count is waiting in the testing chamber. The King's Archons are observing. So are your families. Do not disgrace them today. Do not flinch when you cut yourselves. Show no fear."
Vance turned his back to them. He opened the doors to the testing chamber. A cold, mysterious light spilled into the main hall.
"Form a single line," Vance ordered. "We begin now."
The children scrambled to obey. They pushed and shoved each other, desperate to get a good spot in the line, but terrified to go first. Julian pushed his way near the front, his chest puffed out.
Silas stayed near the back. He let the other kids move past him. His heart was hammering against his ribs. The heat of the room was suddenly gone, replaced by a cold sweat.
He did not care about the King. He just wanted to get his turn over with, take his rank three earth affinity, and go back to his library. He prayed to whatever gods were listening that he would just be completely, utterly average.
He stepped into the back of the line, praying he could go back home soon.