*Current day*

  Cassian walked into the training area in his usual attire, a black robe with no sleeves tightened around his waist with a purple fabric. His loose pants tightened around the ankles and were an off-white colour, dirty from his travels with Aria. The robe had been his customary attire as a Starling of House Moon, they were loose and flowing to give the wearer flexibility, while dark as night to show their veneration for the moon. They were also magically self-cleaning, something he valued greatly on his travels where baths and clean water were scarce. However, he’d long since ditched the customary Starling shorts in favour of long pants that made him look less juvenile. That was something he was still struggling with, the dissonance between his mental and physical age. He briefly touched the purple fabric serving as his robe’s sash.

  All of those ruminations went out the window as soon as he stepped through the wicket gate leading into the arena. He remembered training here as a Starlings years ago, but the roaring crowd in the stands were not a familiar sight. Although the training arena often doubled as a place of events for the House, it was always barren and empty during Starling training. But now, every seat was filled to the brim with Starlings, Crescents and even ordinary members of the House. As he entered, the uniform drone of the crowd immediately morphed into something not starkly different, but noticeably more excited.

  He guessed at least a thousand people were in attendance. He knew House Moon was one of the largest Noble Houses in the continent, and as a result had innumerable members, both main and branch families, but seeing so many gathered in one place was still a staggering sight. They had all come to witness his return trial, or his humiliation, more likely. As his eyes scanned the crowd, a middle-aged couple stood out sorely to him. His parents were amongst the rabble, glaring at him with an unreadable expression. He looked away.

  The arena was a gigantic circular stone building. A flat central circle of stone was where training often took place. Expanding up-and-outward in concentric circles were the stands where the audience were seated. At the end of the stands were stone pillars placed at regular intervals, joining adjacent pillars to form an arch above. Moonlight shined in through the gaping hole in the center of the ceiling. Important House Moon events were often held at night in veneration of the moon.

  As the excitement in the arena grew to a climax, a loud bell rang through the building, signalling the start of the event. Emerging from under each of the twelve arches was an elder, they each stood atop their own floating magical platforms that glided smoothly out of the arch’s darkness. All members in attendance immediately stood and gave the Salute of the Noble.

  Although not a single word was said, the motion of thousands standing and saluting still made for an impressive cacophony. It was a display Cassian hadn’t seen since his departure from the House. Say what you will about nobles, but they sure know how to make a spectacle, he thought.

  The twelve elders of the house floated to the center of the arena, arranging themselves to stand with their backs to each other, facing the audience.

  “Tonight, we gather under the venerable Moon to perform a noble trial,” said Elder Orencius. The arena had no sound amplifying magic circles, so he resorted to a powerful booming yell, one Cassian didn’t expect from a man of his advanced age.

  “Two years ago Cassian Eamon Moon left the House behind, forsaking his honor as a chosen Starling,” the audience booed at that, but none took their eyes off Orencius. “He tramples on the Noble Creed, the virtue of honor, by abandoning his duties.” The crowd's malicious fervour grew stronger, the jeers almost shook the arena.

  Cassian looked up again at his parents, who were likewise in the salute, but his mother’s eyes were a bloodshot red, while his father’s were glazed and staring off into the distance.

  “Today, he returns before the House, asking to be reinstated as a Starling!” Orencius’ tone churned the hatred in the arena even more. Some were beginning to take their eyes off the elder to glare at Cassian. Many of them, he noticed, were Starlings.

  “But the Elder Council has decided to forgive Cassian Moon’s transgression, if he may pass the trial set forth by the House. Tonight, Cassian Moon, you will prove your worth to the House and atone for your transgression by a trial of combat!”

  As Orencius said that, a team of 6 Crescent soldiers in their customary grey armour appeared from the opposite side of the arena. Leading them at the helm was Sylvan Moon, the infamous third son of Sxall. In stark contrast to his team which was composed mostly of young men in their mid twenties, Sylvan was a gangly 45 year old man who looked every part his reputation. His features were sharp and malicious, and his gait was disgustingly languid. Cassian was reminded of the Bristle-tongue slugs he often fought with Aria.

  “His transgression is great, and so must his trial be,” Orencius said. “If Cassian Moon may survive 10 strikes each from a team of Crescents, the Elder Council will recognise his worth and return him to the position of Starling. Should he fail to survive, then he will have fully atoned for his transgression, and his body may be buried in the Moon estate.”

  The crowd’s reaction was largely supportive, roaring their approval. Nobles lived and died by the Noble Creed: Honor, Service, Power. In the eyes of the members, Cassian had trampled over their honor by rejecting his highly coveted position of Starling, and even more so now by daring to ask for it again. Families of the other Starlings would not take this lightly. Neither would many regular members of the House, as it would set a terrible precedent. Most of all however, the other Starlings themselves would not be happy to be piled with what was in their eyes, a straggler misfit who was two years behind.

  Only a small portion of the house members reserved their sanity, recognising the ridiculousness of sentencing a child to death for running away from home. Enya was one of those, she watched through closed eyes as Cassian and the team of Crescents approached the center of the arena. She shook her head sadly.

  “Let the trial-” Orencius was cut off by Sxall. “Cassian Moon. If you should walk away now, the House will not take punitive measures against you. I ask you one more time. Are you willing to stake your life for this?”

  The roaring crowd quieted to a whisper, all eyes locked onto Cassian. He took a deep breath.

  “I am.”

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  Cassian swore he could make out a smirk in the Elder’s face.

  “Very well. Let Cassian Moon’s trial begin!”

  With that, the arena exploded in fanfare. The elders retreated away from the center, turning around to face the central area. As the last Crescent soldier stepped onto the giant stone slab serving as their fighting grounds, a group of uniformed people stepped in from outside the stone slab to cast a spell. Utility mages who worked for the Moon estate all were identifiable by the small floating orb around their heads. A temporary identification method for external workers. Cassian realised what they did for the Moon estate when their chant ended and a circular wall of light extruded from the ground to the ceiling. Slowly, the light dimmed to a barely noticeable shimmer.

  One of the utility mages brought out a curious tool that looked like a hammer-sized pickaxe and banged at the shimmering wall a few times. After some more taps here and there, interspersed with flipping the tool around, the worker was satisfied with the shield’s integrity and they fled out of focus.

  “Make it quick, boys,” Cassian heard Sylvan say to his team. He yawned as he pointed at one of the young Crescents, “Jacob, you’re up first.”

  The young Crescent named Jacob walked forward to meet Cassian in the middle of the arena. He looked like he was in his early twenties, making him almost a decade older than Cassian, at least physically. The man was average height and build for a Crescent, that is to say, tall and built like a bear. His arms were all work and no play, just skin stretched over veins and muscle. He stood a whole two heads taller than Cassian and had to crane his neck down to look at him.

  Cassian was beginning to doubt himself. He’d fought beasts stronger, larger and more terrifying than a Crescent during his journeys with Aria, but that was long ago. Now, he was reduced to a mere Unbound again, and while his mana control exceeded that of most Adepts, it didn’t erase the physical gap between their bodies. Nor an Adept’s ability to cast spells for that matter.

  “I’ll do it fast, young master.”

  For all his rippling muscles and sharp features, Jacob seemed like a nice enough person. Most of the young men on Sylvan’s team were not there by choice. Their resentment for their leader probably didn’t help the shame they felt when told they had to mercilessly beat a child. Cassian was expecting the Crescents to be more frustrated and hateful, so Jacob’s sad smile was a surprise.

  “Don’t worry about me, just do your best.” Cassian said.

  That seemed to break the tension a little and Jacob gave another smile, this time more earnest.

  “You’ve definitely got heart.”

  The two took their battle stances and readied themselves. Orencius, still fuming slightly from being interrupted by Sxall, stepped forward and gave the signal to begin. Immediately, Jacob burst forth from his position, sending a quick jab at Cassian’s face.

  A non-combatant official of the House had briefed Cassian on the details before he entered the arena. Each Crescent would perform 10 strikes against him, but they would not cast any spells. Instead, they would use martial arts and raw mana control, just as Cassian was free to do as well. The elders would personally count each strike; successful hit or not, a strike was counted, meaning Cassian could dodge and fight back. Finally, once the trial began, Cassian could only leave the arena if he passed the trial or became incapacitated. There was no surrendering.

  Cassian had been expecting the jab, but his 15 year old Unbound body was nothing compared to the well-trained Adept-rank body of Jacob. Even after dodging preemptively, Jacob’s gloved fist still caught his cheek in a glancing blow. Shreds of skin tore off and blood spurted out. The audience cried out in response. It hurt, but thankfully the blow was only a flesh wound.

  Just 59 more of these to go, Cassian thought wearily.

  Although he’d taken a cut to the cheek, his preemptive dodge still took him out of Jacob’s way. He landed squarely to the Crescent’s side, who was already turning around with another punch. Knowing to dodge even faster now, Cassian kicked off the ground and flew backwards into a roll. Just a moment later, Jacob’s barreling fist sailed over Cassian’s head. It was a testament to Jacob’s power that the wind from the punch blew Cassian back. The audience let out another collective gasp.

  This cat and mouse game continued for a couple more minutes until Jacob finished his 10 allotted strikes. It turned out that the first blow was a fluke, and once he’d acclimated to the Crescent’s speed, it was easy enough to dodge all the other blows. It did come at a cost however, Cassian’s stamina was nearly halfway depleted now, and he was only one Crescent in out of six. He wiped the sweat off his face and walked back to the center where the second Crescent met him.

  The crowd was in a foul mood now, they had been expecting a swift and brutal beatdown. Instead, they saw a 15 year old Unbound play around with an Adept rank soldier. There was beginning to be whispers of bribery and foul play. Jacob felt the audience staring daggers at him as he walked ashamedly to the edge of his circle where his team stood.

  “Jacob, are you getting paid off? If you are, tell me, I need some cash too,” Sylvan said.

  “I’m not, sir. I really was trying to knock him out quickly.” Jacob said between pants.

  “Goddamn, man. Then you’re even worse than I thought.”

  “Sir, you saw the whole thing. That kid was running circles around me.”

  “You don’t have to remind me. It was embarrassing.”

  Jacob’s shoulders slumped. There was no use arguing with Sylvan. He really had put his full effort into incapacitating Cassian, but aside from the first hit, he had dodged everything effortlessly. He hadn’t seen even a Newbound rank move like that before, much less an unenhanced Unbound.

  Everyone else watched on as the second Crescent squared up with Cassian. Elder Orencius gave another spirited cry to signal the start, and the man was upon him. This time, the Crescent wasn’t as muscular as Jacob, but he made up for it in height and speed. The unnamed man fitted Cassian’s expectation of the Crescent warriors more, a fierce face with an angry undercurrent.

  Whereas Jacob was an all-rounder with speed, strength and bulk, this man was all speed and technique. Cassian didn’t make the same mistake of standing too close this time, so he was able to dodge the man’s first jab. Just as he darted away to put more space between them, he wobbled and fell backwards. Startled and confused, he looked down to see the man’s foot hooked around his ankle. A feint.

  “No more running away.” The man said as he released a flurry of devastating punches.

  Cassian, caught off guard, had no way to defend himself. The first punch connected to his jaw and his knees immediately buckled. The punch was nowhere near the power of Jacob’s but it was efficient and precise. The second blow came from the left and likewise hit Cassian in the jaw, his brain rang like a buzzer in his head. The third blow went for his gut and Cassian almost puked.

  Just like that, the man had spent half of his strikes, and Cassian felt worse than he had in years.

  As if finally gaining some remorse, the lanky man let Cassian slump to the ground as he gasped for breath.

  “Stay down. It’s over.” the serious man said.

  The audience had cheered after the first blow, it was an exciting pivot in the battle. But the moment they saw a child writhing on the ground and wheezing for air, many of the cheers subsided. The parents of the other Starlings watched on in horror, unable to shirk the imagination that this could have been their own child. Still, no one said anything.