Just as my father had requested, I spent the rest of the morning with our servants.

  It wasn’t exactly common for a noble to spend so much time with the household staff. In fact, most nobles would likely be horrified at the thought.

  But in my family? That was considered normal. In fact, this was not the first time it had happened.

  My parents had been the ones to suggest it to me, as they firmly believed it could be an important learning experience. Honestly I didn’t even mind; I was always learning something new, and it usually helped take my mind off the disastrous piano lessons.

  Unlike some nobles I’d heard voices about—people who bragged about having over a hundred servants—we only had four. That was all we ever needed. They had been serving our family for generations, to the point where we considered them part of the family.

  At the moment, Lady Alme, our housekeeper and personal cook, was teaching me and her daughter, Lelya, how to properly prepare tea for the hundredth time.

  “Not like that, young master. You have to keep the water to the right temperature. Like this.”

  Lady Alme was the very definition of a motherly figure. No matter what, her expression was always kind and patient.

  The most disapproval she had ever shown to me was a tiny frown and a slight wrinkle of her already upturned nose. Even then, it would last a few seconds before her green eyes sparkled once again and her mouth back to smiling.

  Whenever I visited the servants’ quarters, she always took some time to teach me something new, even though I’d have probably turned out to be terrible at it.

  The problem was that I’d get distracted way too easily, which was why my tea was always… terrible.

  And today’s tea was no exception either. My thoughts were constantly jumping back at what had happened not even an hour ago and at what would be happening in the next few.

  Have I really awakened as a mage? With a sigh, I let my gaze wander far from the tea before me toward the window.

  From here, I had a perfect view of the massive tree in our garden, one I realized I knew pretty much nothing about. Not much further, along the neat stone pathway leading to the front gate, I spotted two unfamiliar figures walking toward the house.

  They were dressed in simple black robes over a grey ceremonial gown, with ornate pendants hanging from their necks and jolting left and right to their every step. Going by their attire, they looked like priests of some kind.

  Their strained expressions weren’t exactly what I would have expected from a priest, though.

  Father must have summoned them, I concluded. They sure came in a hurry.

  Following their movements across the garden, I watched them walk for a few more moments before Boras, Lady Alme’s husband and our ever-reliable butler, appeared at the doorway. As usual, he wore a plain brown shirt, almost the same color of his hair, which he kept tied in a short, tight ponytail behind his head.

  “Young master Arda, Lord Damyon is waiting for you,” he informed me with a slight bow that made his ponytail wiggle.

  Just as Boras had anticipated, my father was waiting in the hallway when we arrived.

  “Today is a special day, Arda,” he announced as we walked toward his study.

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  “A special day?” I repeated, tilting my head as I noticed his blue eyes were uncharacteristically gleaming. Whatever the occasion could be, he sure looked expectant, anxious, almost.

  Father sleeked back his jet-black hair, which was kept trim, giving him almost a militaristic attire. “As I told you earlier this morning, today we’ll find out if you’ve finally awakened as a mage.”

  “Is it because of the Mirror Ghost?” I asked, trailing behind him. “Because if so, I didn’t summon it. In a sense, it was the metronome’s fault.”

  Considering how he froze mid-step for the shortest fraction of a second, my words might have given a shake to his confidence. However, that didn’t last long; I was already hurrying to keep up with his long strides.

  “Yes, it is,” he confirmed without turning back. “You’ve undergone an initiation test that I wasn’t programming you to take for a couple more months, minimum, but I guess your curiosity won at last. Mishaps like this happen all the time.”

  Oops, I scratched my cheek in embarrassment.

  “But that’s okay,” he said. “The fact that a Mirror Ghost came out of the book and not something weaker should be a good omen about your chances of becoming a mage. Let us only thank the gods that it decided to take the aspect of Lud and not anyone else.”

  On our continent, Erde, magic had shaped the very foundation of civilization. Entire cities, kingdoms, and empires had developed with magic as an integral part of their structure.

  And yet, only about five percent of the population could use magic at all. There had been times in history when the number of mages had drastically increased, but those periods never lasted long.

  “Magic is the key that unlocks all doors in our world, yet humanity can’t help but fear what it cannot fully harness. And when something cannot be controlled, it breeds distrust.

  And distrust inevitably leads to conflict.”

  That had been master Baryon’s opening statement during our very first lesson together.

  Despite being in the minority, after years of wearing away a good chunk of non-mages’ previous influence, mages now held immense power all over the world.

  Obviously, that had always sprung all sorts of protests and uprisings. Now and then, rumors spread about resistance movements forming against mage-run governments, but they had never really got anywhere. They always fizzled out before gaining any real traction.

  “Ah, we will also check if you’ve been granted an emblem,” Father added.

  Finally, the few things Baryon had taught me about magic started coming in handy, sparing me from quite a lot of embarrassing questions.

  Emblems, or crests, as some called them. Master Baryon had once described them as “small magical blessings.” Bestowals of emblems were said to be rarer even than mage awakenings.

  There were some scholars out there that believed crests were divine blessings from the gods, while others theorized they were byproducts of an ancient magical experiment.

  Conclusive proofs of either theory had never been found.

  “Do you think I’ll have one?” I asked.

  Father stroked his chin, carefully pondering his next words. “Emblems are mainly a question of genetics, so we can’t really tell,” he mused aloud. “If I recall the numbers correctly, less than one percent of the mages are granted an emblem at birth.”

  I must have looked horrified, because he quickly reassured me. “But fear not. Considering that both your mother and I have one, I’d say your chances are not so slim.”

  The difference between a mage bestowed with a crest and a mage without one was undeniable.

  Awakening one now would be of great help for the beginning of my career as a mage. But even if I weren’t, I could always try my luck with mana beasts. They said some mages had earned emblems from slaying magical beasts or forming bonds with those same magical beasts.

  Whatever the case, it would be much easier if I were to have one already.

  “Couldn’t I awaken more than one?” I’d made sure to sound innocent, but Father saw right through me and placed a hand on top of my head with barely any effort.

  Even at twelve, I wasn’t exactly short, but my father was a giant in comparison.

  Letting go of my head, he sighed. “As your tutor has likely told you, it is well known that each mage can only awaken one emblem naturally.”

  We walked in silence for a while before I called him again, as a particular memory tugged for attention. “Don’t they say that the greatest Heroes, the strongest mages of all time, were that powerful because they had multiple emblems?”

  At my words, Father’s sharp gaze locked onto me.

  “As well as the greatest Demons did,” I finished quietly.

  Will he be granted a crest or--gods forbid--he received none?

  Only one way to find out.

  Cael