The moon was well into the sky by the time Lyssandrea made it back to the city and affirmed the story of Ambrose and Henric. The truth was that retrieving Lyssandrea had taken extra time because the pyromancer had completely destroyed the cart and left Lyssandrea to try and recover her things and deal with the beginnings of a forest fire. When the guard had finally arrived and found her with the remains of the equipment and no pyromancer in sight they had questioned her to figure out what had happened as well.
Once the Captain confirmed that the stories between both available parties checked out, she welcomed Ambrose and Henric formally to the capital. Lyssandrea was quick to get them released and heading toward the academy, regardless of the time of night. The trio walked the pristine streets, following lit lamps and the lovely stone pavement of the main road all the way through the city, past tall, beautifully masoned buildings and happy homes into the wealthier parts of town. After that the homes became manors, large, gated and imposing, yet the road remained beautiful and pristine regardless of what area of town. It was something that Ambrose took note of. There was apparently a high minimum standard in the capital.
The road led them to tall double iron wrought gates, which led them up a walkway to the tallest building in the city aside from the castle itself. There was a gate guard who opened the gates for them as soon as he saw the Scion, bowing respectfully to all three of them as they passed. Ambrose paid him no mind, though, as her attention was on the academy itself. A 5 story manse with countless rooms and a lush ‘campus’ where training would likely take place. To have such a large space inside of the walls of the capital was a true feat of ingenuity. Ambrose thought it might actually be a strong possibility that the Academy comprised more land than the castle grounds.
The man who waited for them at the doors of the main building of the academy was a rather well dressed elf male who waited for them in the double doors leading into the manse-like academy and its tall, towering foyer. The chandelier was magically lit, illuminating the checkered marble floors. The immaculate double staircase that led to the second floor was just as pristine as the main floors, yet something about the forced cleanliness of both this place and the city it was in made Ambrose feel uneasy.
“And you are certain it was Riggamond?” The man asked when finally Ambrose tuned back into the conversation he was having with Lyssandrea. The Scion nodded solemnly in reply, wincing at the genuine look of wounded disappointment on the elf man's face.
“A true shame,” the man said, taking a deep breath and then sighing. “I take it these two are the yield we've gathered from Grimwater? An A rank and an… a… a-...”
Ambrose sighed as the man looked at her and obviously eyed her class rank. She felt like she was going to have to get used to everyone gawking at her class moving forward. “Ambrose. Yes,” she replied, the statement making the man paused and realize he'd been stammering like a fool. His cheeks and ear tips reddened, even as he looked back to Lyssandrea for confirmation again.
“She is an M Rank of exceptional talent and potential. She and Henric were both found in Grimwater, and I deem both worthy of seeing the academy. They'll both be under my guidance, at least while the semester proceeds. I want both of them to flourish in this academy and going forward. The kingdom could use more like them,” Lyss said. Her words made Henric smile broadly and puff up his chest, proud to be praised by the S rank. Ambrose was more suspicious of the praise than anything else. She didn't forget that she wasn't in the city, or at the academy by choice, but rather necessity.
“An M! That's amazing! Once they've both received their evaluations I can't wait to see how she performs in general classes,” the elf declared, openly leering at her. Apparently her power was too exciting even for the staff to pass up.
“Speaking of those evaluations, I was hoping to see the council tonight regarding them,” Lyssandrea said, sounding as though she was about to start arguing for the privilege, but the elf held up a hand.
“The council has been waiting all day. The prophecy is not something they take lightly,” the elvish man agreed before turning. “If you will, follow me.” He said, composing himself and beginning to lead the trio into the academy and up the stairs. Try as he did to put back on his professional guide, Ambrose clearly heard him mumbling ‘M Rank’ excitedly to himself as they went.
—
The room the elf led them to was a towering space that certainly didn't feel like it should be able to fit between two separate floors of the building they were in. Its walls and floor were heavy stone, while the vaulted ceiling above seemed to be purely wood paneling. The space was large enough to fit a few hundred people in seats. Rather than housing that number of people, it played host to five individuals all seated in the far side of a large table at the end of the room.
The ones at the ends were a pair of A ranks. On the right was a Hafling woman who sat on a set of cushions to boost her height so that she could see the room from the same vantage as her peers came was pretty, with long, lustrous brown hair, a doll-like face with big, long lashes, and illustrious robes that hung from her diminutive figure. The tall, ornate staff leaning on the side of her seat told Ambrose that she was some form of caster.
On the left sat a human man in simple leathers. He had unkempt brown hair and fierce brown eyes. His face was framed with a wiry beard that seemed dry and unkempt. The man looked as though he roughed it frequently in the wilds and had very little time for the comforts or standards of the city.
On the right side of the center table sat a stoic half orc man with an S rank class. His eyes were gentle though a closer look told Ambrose that they were unseeing. He maintained a kind smile, his pallid green complexion seemingly defusing the light. He had dark black hair and a clean shaven, but powerfully masculine face with respectable tusks for someone of his lineage. He wore pristine, white robes in the fashion of the preachers under the church of Guidance. Ambrose would take him for a powerful healer.
On the left side of the central person sat a woman wreathed in silks. When Ambrose tries to see the rank of the woman and possibly her class, she found nothing. The woman seemed to be obscured in more ways than one. From what Ambrose could tell, the woman had tanned, beautifully brown skin and black hair beneath the purple and gold silks covering every inch of what Ambrose imagined was a shapely bodice. The silk mask the woman wore over her face did nothing to obscure her pretty blue eyes. But the shawl covered her hair and Ambrose could only tell it was black because of her bangs, which fell around her pretty eyes regardless of the shawl.
The final person, and the man who sat at the center of the long table, was a powerhouse of an S rank. He sat in heavy, silver, plated armor embossed with the symbols of land and church alike. Gloin, the grand firebird, spread his wings across the man's chest plate. His short, glossy black hair was combed away from his face where fierce green eyes observed both Ambrose and Henric with equal interest. In front of him, on the table, sat an ornate helm with a spiked crown set into it.
Lyssandrea led both of the newly awakened into the room until they were within speaking distance of the table, then she put her heels together, and bowed. “Council. Head master. I have returned and brought with me the yield of Grimwater. Both of these show promise,” she said, placing a hand to her breastplate as she bowed.
“Rise, Scion of Light. You have done well and have earned your commendations for bringing these to us,” the armored man said, looking at both Ambrose and Henric again. Without waiting for more, or even checking to see if Lyssandrea followed his order, the man continued. “I am Second Prince Olferig Garren von Diestol, headmaster of this Royal Academy. These you see before you are my staff and confidants. I would have your names.”
Ambrose decided at that point that she didn't particularly like this second prince, whomever he thought he was. Henric, on the other hand, was quick to go to a knee and bow his head. “I am Henric, my liege. I have awakened an A rank class,” he said, handing his information out to the man on a platter.
The Second Prince nodded and then bid Henric to rise before turning his eyes to Ambrose, one of his thick brows quirking up. Ambrose didn't think bowing to this man like Henric had was necessary. She didn't need to be rude, but she certainly didn't need to start kissing people's asses.
Doing a simple bow with her heels pressed together, Ambrose introduced herself. “I'm Ambrose,” she said, leaving it at that.
The prince seemed bemused, though the halflings woman and the gruff human both seemed to grow angry at her presumed lack of respect.
“Have you no decorum, child?” the woman asked, reaching for her staff only for the weapon to leap to her palm and meet her half way.
Ambrose's danger sense was triggered as the woman rose on her cushion. Her eyes widened and she began drawing upon her own power, ready to shift and move.
“Mathilde!” The prince reprimanded the woman, his voice deep and stern. He turned his eyes to glare at the halfling, who blushed fiercely and released her staff, sitting. “These are important guests and students. One of them has a very bright destiny. The other could still be a powerful ally. Do not let something so small ruin our future.”
“My liege…” the woman Ambrose now knew as Mathilde, said, bowing her head and looking properly chastised.
“Forgive the outburst, Ambrose,” the prince said looking back at her with a gentle smile. “She believes strongly in propriety and forgets that in the bounds of this Academy I am headmaster before I am prince.”
Ambrose shrugged, but chose to keep the power of the catfolk form primed and ready in case someone else chose to express their agitation violently.
“What destiny were you speaking of, my liege?” Henric asked, the question catching the Prince's attention.
He smiled warmly at Henric in the kind of way one would smile at a particularly dumb puppy after it ran face first into a wall. Then he gave him his answer. “Callidora here,” the prince began, indicating the dark skinned beauty, “is an Oracle. Her powers allow her a chance to glean into the future every so often. On rarer occasions, the future calls to her by means of prophecy, giving her strong warnings or crucial information that could lead to positives in the long run if heeded. For the sake of preserving bright futures for the people of Diestol, we heed her prophecies.”
“And that means there was a prophecy about us?” Henric asked, looking between the prince and Callidora. “She made a prophecy about us?”
“That she did," the prince said with a smile. “Callidora has prophesied that a hero of great power would awaken in Grimwater's Keep 3 days ago. That hero would be the key to the defeat of the demon lord and prevent their rise to power in five years time.”
Henric seemed absolutely pumped up at the idea of being a hero and killing a great demon lord or something. Ambrose, on the other hand, would happily allow the boy to run off and kill some demons while she figured out her class and what benefits she could use to support her home.
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“Well, Ambrose and I are a heroic team,” Henric said, openly volunteering Ambrose for bullshit. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to protest, only for the prince to guffaw and cut her response off.
“A fine response, young man. You will make a proud warrior one day, and a fine asset to the kingdom!” He laughed. The lackeys surrounding the prince all agreed, eager to encourage Henric's willingness to toss himself and others into the open maws of wolves.
Henric bowed, honored by their praise.
“Still we do have assessments to make. Trials to test your speed, strength, mystic potential and so on. Think of these as the first step to seeing if you have what it takes to be the heroes we expect you to be. If you pass, you will be enrolled into the academy under the wings of Professor Gulfrig. If you fail, we will have to send you elsewhere,” the prince said, trying to make his voice seem grave and serious.
Maybe it was her stats, or maybe Ambrose was just good at sniffing out bullshit, but she knew for a fact this man wouldn't send either of them away. There was too much value to be lost with both of them. Henric, while a fool, might be the hero they needed with his A rank class, or he might simply turn out to be a good warrior and tool for the kingdom. She was apparently special enough that the Scion of Light was willing to lock down a city to keep her contained. He just wanted to inflate the sense of importance these assessments would have.
Fortunately for the prince, his words had the desired effect on at least one of them. Henric seemed to pale and stiffen before a look of determination settled across his face. He nodded and stood tall, ready for anything. Ambrose sighed softly and eyed the occupants of the table, wondering what the “tests” would be.
“The first assessment will be simple; it is one of strength and endurance,” the prince said with a smile. Standing and raising his hands he called forth two shining metal blocks from the floor. Each was a pristine silver color and had handles set in the side. They were about a foot across in every dimension and caught the steady light of the magic lanterns with a polished shimmer. “I want you each to try and lift these blocks. If you can, hold them until I bid you to put them down.”
Henric, always eager to impress, darted forward standing before his block and waiting for Ambrose. The woman sighed inwardly and walked over to her block, but waited to pick the thing up. She didn't shift forms, as none of them would help her in particular with the task. While the Lambda was sturdy, it didn't truly enhance her strength. The catfolk form was not meant for any form of strength based activity. The merfolk form would not help her lift things on dry land, and the redcappi form was both untested and seemed a bit dangerous. She didn't want her first experience with that form to be during a test, or to have witnesses.
When the prince gave them both the signal, she bent down and set her hands in the handholds before crouching and lifting with her legs until the relatively light block settled against her hips. Then she held it there, waiting. Henric seemed to struggle far more than she to accomplish the same feat, his muscles bulging and his arms shaking as he lifted the block with his back, which seemed like it hurt.
By the time he had stood straight, he was huffing and red in his face as he struggled to keep the block still. For the next minute and a half, he set his face, grit his teeth and clung to the block, refusing to drop the thing. If Ambrose had been struggling as hard as he had to hold up the block, she would have simply put it down. But she supposed determination was a quality people looked for in heroes.
Just as it seemed Henric's arms were going to give out, the prince called, “Enough! You may lower them.”
Both Ambrose and Henric set down the blocks, though Henric did so more heavily than Ambrose had. When he straightened up, he was panting heavily and sweating from the exertion. Ambrose almost wanted to pretend the task had been hard just so he wouldn't look over and see her unaffected when he'd tried so much. But his earlier behavior prevented her from staying sympathetic for long.
“Well done, both of you. Most have to put down the blocks at some point. Yet both of you seem powerful enough to last the entire time,” he said, once again stroking Henric's ego. As with every time before, Henric ate it up and practically glowed from the praise.
“Next will be an evaluation of your mystic defenses,” the caster woman said. “While neither of you seem to be casters, each and every person has some reserve of Mana or a skill that can be used to compensate for and mitigate magic damage. To test this defense, each of you shall take one mystic bolt from me. The only real objective here would be to remain conscious, as I suspect both of you will have to take the blow, rather than erecting a barrier.”
Once again, Henric steeled himself to simply bear with the abuse. Ambrose decided to ponder her options with the short time she had. Of the forms she could take that had some sort of mystic defenses, the Lambda and the Merfolk would be the most specialized. Somehow she thought that the teacher, Mathilde would not allow her to use the physical shield, though, expecting her to use a summoned barrier of some sort. That left the Merfolk.
“Are we allowed time to prepare?” she asked, not wanting to show off her form if she completely had no chance.
“Yes, of course. The two of you can't be over level one. You probably only have a class skill,” the woman chuckled,” Ambrose glanced over to Lyssandrea, who merely smirked and said nothing to correct her colleague.
Even Henric didn't correct her, though Ambrose suspected his nerves were distracting him, rather than attributing any tactful action of his to actual wit. Instead he stood before the table, weaponless and defenseless and waited to be blasted with magic. When he was inevitably blasted, the spell sent him tumbling head over heels, his body flailing from the force of the blow as he was sent to the other side of the room, near the entrance in a crumpled heap.
The blast had hit him so hard that Ambrose was genuinely surprised when he got up and began to stumble back towards the rest of the people in the room. A hole had been burned into his shirt where the blast had hit, and his chest was deep red from the damage, but as he made his way back, determination in his eyes, he grit his teeth and bore with it.
“A proud showing,” the half orc growled, clapping his hands thrice before spreading them. Light spread over Henric and his wound disappeared as though it had never existed. His body seemed to bulk mildly from the reinvigoration of the holy man's healing. Ambrose was more impressed by the healing done than by the subject, but she didn't say anything.
While she was fairly certain she was sturdier than Henric, she still didn't want to be launched across any rooms. Before the little woman could assume she was ready and start throwing magic at her, Ambrose grasped the power of her merfolk form. Gasps of surprise filled the air as Ambrose's body changed, her gear disappearing as her hair lengthened and fins and tail sprung into being.
Rather than pause and let them gawk at her, Ambrose wove her tail as best she could, drawing the water off of her body and bidding it to follow her will as she began to summon more. She felt a tug on her spirit as she drew water into being, creating a bubble of it beneath her as gallons of crystal clear liquid amassed to her call. It took several seconds, but before the mage could adjust, Ambrose was already encapsulated in an orb of water large enough to swallow a person.
The room stared at her, each person looking at her body as she filled the bubble, floating elegantly in the space. For long seconds no one spoke, and Henric stared at her chest for long enough that she squirted him with a thin stream of water. Making him cough and stammer as he fell aside.
“You didn't tell me you could do this, Ambrose,” Lyssandrea said. Her voice seemed warped when it reached Ambrose, as though the density of the water scrunched the words on their way to her.
The mermaid shrugged, she didn't want to give away any secrets she didn't have to. Lyssandrea was her professor and would likely learn everything Ambrose was capable of with time, but as long as Ambrose could keep the edge of surprise, she could at least have an advantage when dealing with her teacher.
“She can shift forms?! Freely?!” The prince asked, looking between Lyss and Ambrose, his cheeks tinged red enough that Ambrose could see it through the water and past his beard.
“Yes. She is an M Rank class that I believe is some form of shifting based druid. She takes on the form and powers of Demi-humans. I haven't seen any noticeable time limitation or limit to her number of shifts per day. She held another form for well over an hour when I first retrieved her,” Lyssandrea explained, eying the bubble bemusedly. “And it seems she has gained more tricks since that point.
“Amazing,” said the other human at the table, his eyes locked on Ambrose.
“Disgusting,” growled the half-orc, which completely threw Ambrose off guard. As the person here closest to being classified a Demi-human himself, she didn't expect him to glower at her like she was disgusting. A racist half-orc…. Huh.
“Such a talent could be of great use,” the prince smiled.
“She has a strong magical foundation in that form,” the halfling begrudgingly admitted. “I would pass her regardless for what she just displayed alone. Should I continue, Headmaster?”
Eyes turned from Ambrose to the Second Prince, who smiled and then nodded. “We shall keep things fair. Our young hero had to endure your spell. I see no reason why the M rank should skip out on dealing with it as well. She is a student as much as he is.”
The cruel twinkle in his eye told Ambrose not to trust him, and Mathilde must have picked up something from it too, because as she leveled her staff at the shimmering mermaid, something Ambrose didn't see her do with Henric at all, the younger girl could feel the magic pour off of the Hafling woman. Rather than sit around and let the mage fry her, Ambrose wove her hands and in the next moment created three layers of separation between her and the spell each of them was a pane of concave water that, with the clarity of the waters magnified the woman in her field of view.
When the mage fired at her, Ambrose acted with haste, shifting the pane nearest the mage into a ball to catch the spell, the middle pane into ice to disrupt the bolt further and obscure her from sight and the third pane as a net of material, should the blow persist even then, Ambrose moved herself out of the direct line of the shot sent to harm her, using her bubble to move back and to the side, behind Lyssandrea.
There was a splash and a hiss, then a crunching cracking noise, followed by some violet light and a little more steamy hissing, but it seemed like the third barrier had been enough to fully diffuse the attack sent for her. Ambrose sighed inwardly and then immediately shifted herself back to her human form, all of the water, including her barriers disappearing, leaving her in the dry, well equipped condition she had been in before the magic defense evaluation had begun. The looks on the faces of the people in the room when she stepped back from around Professor Gulfrig were…stunned. The magi, especially, looked like she'd seen a ghost.
“From a level… there's no way a level one could have such mastery!” the short woman fumed, obviously ready to demand answers.
“Will that suffice?” Ambrose asked, cutting the woman off and not wanting to leave the people in the room any time to get more clever ideas.
“It will,” the mage fumed, glancing at the prince before placing down her staff and seating herself back on her cushions, her eyes trying to pry Ambrose open.
“Well done,” the prince said after a moment. “It is not often someone manages to fully block Mathilde’s spell,” he explained.
Ambrose assumed that was because no one else had thrown up three shields to do so. Four if she counted the bubble itself. She didn't say any of that, though. She simply nodded and waited for the next assessment.
The following two evaluations went much as the first had. The wild looking human had them test their agility attacking little floating colored flames that tried to move out of the way. Henric did fine and so Ambrose didn't bother shifting forms and simply hit the little things as best she could. The test for their ranged accuracy was much the same. Henric was given a throwing axe, which he nailed the target with, seeming to have a very decent sense of aim. Ambrose tried mimicking him to a lesser result, but didn't shift, even when the mage suggested she try the trial with her mermaid form.
They were told their results before they even left the evaluation room. As Ambrose had expected, both of them “passed” and were welcome in the Academy. The prince casually declared that the two of them would receive a stipend and a scholarship to attend the academy, and told them both not to worry about paying their lodging during their stay at the academy. Ambrose was not about to complain about the free lodging.
When they left the testing hall, as Ambrose had come to think of it, she remained quiet as Lyssandrea led them about the building and the outside of it towards what she explained were the on campus dormitories. The buildings were mansions in their own right, towering three floors in height and attached to the Academy campus by their own large iron gates and fences. The only reason Ambrose didn't think they were a separate part of the city, was that they could only be accessed by walking through the campus proper.
Lyss left Ambrose at the gate of the men's dorm, saying that women were not allowed on the property after dark, except for staff. So Ambrose waited as Henric was finally separated from her. She could only imagine he would be more tolerable for his roommate than he was for her.
It wasn't too terribly long after that point that the professor returned and escorted Ambrose to her own dorm building, walking her through the gates and towards the tall mansion, and her new life.
