Sam grunted as he brought the new splitting ax down. It cracked through the thin log he’d placed on the stump, sending the two relatively even halves clattering to either side. Almost without thinking, he picked one up, placed it on the stump, and split that as well. After tossing the last quarter onto the stack of finished wood, he rested the ax against the logs and stretched, his fists pressing into the small of his back.

  ? It was the morning of his eighteenth name day, he thought. Though he’d officially been an adult since his Assessment, today was the first time it felt like the truth. He’d be expected to take up a profession after today, or else to earn a place as someone’s apprentice. Of course, no one within the village had tendered him such an offer, which really left him with just one option. He’d be a farmer.

  ? Well, he reasoned, it wouldn’t be so bad. He was no stranger to hard work, and while it was boring, he knew it well. He could earn a small living for himself, then buy a small plot to work as he saw fit. He’d raise potatoes, just as his father had, and take a wife with whom to share the nights. That thought brought Sera to mind. Not so bad at all.

  ? “Sam!” He gave a small start of surprise at the sound of his name. For one wild second, he thought he’d summoned the girl with his thoughts of her. But then his reason caught up with him. She was obviously just here to offer her well-wishes in person. He glanced up at the track that led to Harbard’s Reach, unable to hide his smile as he saw her appear.

  ? She was wearing a light blue frock today, and her hair was split to either side and braided. It suited her well, as did the image of the large wicker basket she was carrying at her side. The sleeves of the dress were short, leaving her arms bare and showing off the slight muscles she’d developed after years of hauling heavy trays of food and ale to customers. She beamed at him as she stepped over the small bridge that spanned the creek, her brown eyes twinkling in the early light of the day.

  ? “Look at you, being so diligent,” she teased, once she was within easy speaking distance. “Knocking out your chores first thing in the morning so you can relax with me?”

  ? He couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Not a chance. Mother kicked me out for an hour while she gets everything ready. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I thought I’d get ahead on the wood.”

  ? “Ah, so you’re already done? Here I was hoping I’d get to see you sweating on such a fine morning.” Sam bluntly ignored that teasing remark and set the ax down well inside the shelter of the lean-to. "So? Do you think it’s been long enough that your mother will let you back in the house? Or do I have to go and get a peek at the decorations without you?"

  ? He gave a small wave in the direction of their simple house. “It’s only been about half an hour. Go ahead. I’ll finish stacking this wood, then rinse off in the stream.”

  ? “Denying me *another* show while you’re at it,” she said, shaking her head in mock disappointment as she strode over towards the house. “Ah, well. I’ll get to see plenty of you once you pluck up the courage to ask me to marry you.”

  ? “I don’t recall ever having that as a goal for life!” he replied, raising his voice so that she could clearly hear him.

  ? “Sure you did!” She called back, winking at him. “Don’t try to deny it, you’re hopelessly in love with me!”

  ? It was, as usually happened in their exchanges, the final word. She almost always won in the end, he thought, striding over to where the pile of roughly chopped logs lay. He quickly stooped to start stacking them under the shelter of the lean-to’s roof, acutely aware of the slowly rising temperature of the day around him.

  ? “What a charming life you have here,” a voice said to the side. “I’m not surprised you show no inclination to leave it.”

  ? Sam whipped around and jumped back, not immediately recognizing the elven man who seemed to appear out of thin air nearby. Within seconds, though, he realized it was Lucian Peran, the man who’d performed the Assessment half a week ago. Hadn’t he left the village the same day? What purpose was there in lingering about? Was he spying on Sam? If he wasn’t completely sure that he’d never be able to make it to High Thael this year, he might have thought so.

  ? “Tell me,” Peran continued, not waiting for him to speak. “Is it truly your ambition to live as a farmhand for the rest of your life? I would assume that one with your talents would pursue a life as a mage. Even if you were to follow your mother into the Church, that wouldn’t entirely be a waste.”

  ? How much did he know of Sam and his family? He assumed everything that there was to know, but he couldn’t be sure. “I’m not here because I *want* to work on a farm. Obviously, I want to live as a mage in High Thael. It’s all-”

  ? He clenched his teeth, realizing he’d said too much. It was the first time he’d told another of his ambition to leave Harbard’s Reach, if not forever, then certainly long enough to receive an education. Well, it was in the open now. “Traveling costs money that I don’t have, okay? High Thael is almost two weeks away by foot, according to the merchants that come down.”

  ? “Closer to a month if you’re unaccustomed to traveling,” Peran confirmed, leaning against the wall of the lean-to and regarding him with a quizzical look. “Okay, so you’ve admitted that you want to be a mage. What’s stopping you?”

  ? Sam looked at the man as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “I… don’t have money? You need money to travel any distance, you know.”

  ? “No you don’t. You only need food and water. You can easily get both with magic. That’s no excuse.”

  ? Sam gaped at Peran, his mouth opening and closing several times as he tried to come up with another reason. Peran wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t entirely correct. He couldn’t carry enough food for that trip by himself, which meant he’d have to procure more during the trip. In most cases, that took gold, as he couldn’t hunt for himself–save for some small game taken with a sling or trap.

  ? When Sam hesitated too long, Peran filled the silence. “I think you’re ready to take the next step, but you’re afraid. You’re half-elf, correct? I assume you think that will be a hindrance in High Thael. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about how ‘Elves look down upon mixed breeds’ and ‘Some magicks are locked behind the purer bloodlines’. Bullshit. All of it.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  ? Lucian Peran drew something from the depths of his cloak and threw it to Sam, who caught it out of shock, feeling something wooden and extremely dense. As he took better stock of it, he saw it was a sword, carved from some dark wood and almost perfectly matching the dimensions of the real weapon on Peran’s hip.

  ? “So, I’m going to hinge your admission on a test,” he said, stepping forward. Sam didn’t even see him produce the second wooden weapon, but suddenly, he was holding one in a relaxed grip with his left hand. “Attack me. You have three seconds.”

  ? “Huh?” Sam looked from the mock weapon in his hands to the identical one that his… opponent was holding. “You want me to…”

  ? Peran moved in a flash, his sword swatting painfully onto Sam’s right forearm. With a yelp, he released the sword and jumped back, massaging the stinging point on his arm. If it had been a real weapon, it would have only grazed him, but the wooden implement had just enough contact to leave a stinging red mark.

  ? As if in response to his pained cry, he heard the door to the house crash open, and, glancing over his shoulder, he saw his mother and Sera racing across the yard, sending several chickens scattering in panic. His mother was the first to react to the stranger’s presence. “You again?”

  ? A wash of magic flashed over Sam, and he suddenly staggered back under the effect of a powerful and unexpected gust of wind. Peran, meanwhile, seemed to blur slightly before vanishing completely and reappearing several feet to the side. He was smiling slightly as he watched Sam’s mother grab him by the shoulders, pulling him away. “First ,you spy on my only child, and now you resort to attacking him? Is this how the Masters of High Thael conduct themselves when searching for apprentices now?”

  ? Apprentices? Sam stopped rubbing his arm for a moment and looked at Peran again. Was his mother telling the truth? Had the elf been watching him since the Assessment? Elena snarled something in Elvish that Sam didn’t catch, but the words only broadened the smile on Peran’s face.

  ? “With all respect, Priestess Moran, it is not your opinion that matters to me, but that of your son. It is he whom I wish to enroll at the Academy.”

  ? “You… want me?” Sam asked, his legs suddenly feeling like lead beneath him. “But… I can’t get there on my own.”

  ? “You could,” Peran said, the corner of his mouth twitching. Was that a sneer? “But you won’t have to. As it so happens, I’m prepared to take you to the Academy myself.”

  ? Sam almost leaped forward at once, ready to agree. He’d pay whatever price it took, work however hard was required, to earn that privilege. But Peran forestalled him with a raised hand. “Oh, no. The Academy may cover the travel safety and expense of any student with sufficient base talent, but I operate a little differently.”

  ? He twitched the fingers of his right hand, and the wooden training sword was yanked out of Sam’s hand and into its owner’s. There was a flash of dark green energy, and suddenly, the weapon clattered to the packed earth of the ground. “You may join me in my travels to High Thael, but only if you can bring that weapon back to me.”

  ? He glanced up at the sky, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Three days should suffice. I will be waiting in the tavern until you can find me.”

  ? And then he was gone with a gust of wind, leaving no trace that he’d ever been there, save for the growing welt on Sam’s right arm. Even that token was erased as his mother quickly patted the red mark, healing it–and the slight exhaustion of his exertion–away completely. “Don’t listen to that man, Sam. You don’t have to do his stupid test. If you want to attend the Academy, I will make sure you get there.”

  ? She raised a hand toward the fallen wooden sword, then hesitated, appearing to weigh some decision in her mind. Sam merely watched her, his eyes wide, until she let out a soft snort and turned away, muttering in Elvish. Sera clutched Sam’s arm as the red-haired elf stormed back toward the hut, slamming the door behind her as she disappeared.

  ? “Are you okay?” Sera asked, as soon as they were alone again. At least, Sam assumed they were alone. But now he couldn’t be too sure, what with Peran’s displayed ability to appear and disappear at will. He could still be lurking there now, watching him.

  ? “I’m… I’m fine,” he said slowly, massaging his chest. Despite the healing that his mother had given him, his heart was still hammering at what felt like double its natural pace. “Just–startled, that’s all. I didn’t know he was spying on me, or that my mother had caught him at it.”

  ? “Are you seriously going to the Academy?” She asked, looking up into his eyes. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t secretly pleased to be so much taller than her. It let the light sparkle in her eyes in a certain captivating way whenever she looked at him like that. “I mean, I know you always wanted to be a mage. But can’t you learn here, in the village? Or at least at the Church? That way you’d be at least a day away, not several weeks.”

  ? His heart skipped slightly, now for a different reason, and he shook his head. “I’m… I’m not sure. I want to, if I can. I know that I could learn a lot about magic in High Thael, and I want to try.”

  ? Sera’s mouth twisted into a sad little frown, and she shook her head. “You’d be gone at least four years, Sam. I… I’d miss you, but…”

  ? “What?”

  ? She seemed to hesitate then, biting her lip as she weighed her words. “What if you change too much while you’re away? What if you’re no longer the Sam that I love?”

  ? That forestalled any sarcastic quip or misdirection he’d had planned. Under the layers of teasing and sly jokes that she liked to throw his way, he couldn’t deny that there was a mutual attraction. They’d been friends since they were children, after all. While their affections had been limited to tentative embraces and a few quick, daring kisses during the last Harvest Festival, they’d taken no real progress. Now, as adults and free to direct their own lives, they could see where it went. But if Sam moved away…

  ? “I’ll still be the same person,” he promised. “I’ll just be a better mage.”

  ? He couldn’t say what was really on his mind. *Wait for me*. That was beyond selfish, and he’d never make such a request of her. He loved her and knew that no matter how long he spent away, that love wouldn’t fade. But she was gorgeous and well-liked throughout the village. Every available man would jump at the chance to woo and wed her. If he weren’t here, would he lose her affections?

  ? The two paths, divulging so far that they seemed to lead in opposite directions, stretched out before him. Did he pursue his desires with magic and learn what he could as an apprentice mage in High Thael? He could dedicate years to study and come back a fully-fledged mage, then hope that Sera was still here, ready to love and keep him. Or he could cast aside the slim chance he had, and pursue a life of comfort and certainty here. Even a life as a farmhand would be pleasant, if it was spent with her.

  ? With visible effort, Sera hitched a smile onto her face, then glanced down at the wooden sword. “Take your time to think about it, okay? Like your mother said, you have time. You can do whatever you want. I’m… uh. I’m going to go help with the preparations.”?

  ? Pink-faced, she stood up on the tips of her toes and kissed him, featherlight, on the cheek. Then, her face only redder at her boldness, she scurried back toward the house, leaving Sam to his thoughts, which were no longer the comfortable place of calm that he’d previously enjoyed. So, to distract himself from his overcrowded mind, he knelt down and scrabbled at the hilt of the wooden sword. Though he was sure it wouldn’t work, he tried to lift it. It might as well have been part of the earth on which it lay, with all good that did.