"That man, he was an Archmage, wasn't he?" Nick asked the moment they sat down in the foyer.

He was almost vibrating with energy, incredibly relieved that his plan seemed to have worked and that a big fish had taken a bite out of his bait.

A lot of hard work awaited him, from ingratiating himself to developing the skills he'd need to survive the next year, but the one thing he had no control over was seemingly over.

Xander sat down with a sigh, but nodded, "He was. Archmage Tholm has always been the most subtle of his brethren, but that's not saying much, if even a greenhorn like you could recognize him."

The words were spoken with gentle disapproval, and given the spartan life Xander led, Nick could see where that came from.

Someone like him should have been a celebrated figure, revered just as much as the Tower Master or the Duke, yet he was rarely mentioned.

People knew of him, of course, because of the huge mansion he had in the noble district, but he was seen more as an oddity— a retired warrior who had once terrorized the battlefield and now spent his time in isolation, occasionally taking in a stray or two to teach them some of his skills.

Nick knew better. He'd seen how consistently the man kept his skills sharp, and he had no doubt he could become a major player if he chose to.

But the fact remained that he didn't seem willing. Still, I'm pretty sure the Archmage came to get his permission to take me in. That's not something you do for a has-been.

"So he was Archmage Tholm," Nick muttered under his breath, barely holding back a grin. He loved it when a plan came together.

Xander huffed out a breath, "It seems you already know everything. Then I don't need to explain what happened, good."

"Wait!" Nick called out before he could even get up, managing only to flex his legs. "I need to know more!"

The chuckle he got back felt more mocking than he'd like, but he was willing to accept more humiliation for success.

"Alright, I'll stop messing around," the old man said, settling back down. "That was, indeed, Archmage Tholm, and as you might guess, he came here to get my permission to invite you to become his apprentice."

Before Nick could get too excited, Xander raised a hand to stop the flood of questions. "I told him the decision was yours, but I believe you'd learn a lot from him, and he would benefit from having someone like you under him. He asked if it was a recommendation, and I said yes."

Nick opened his mouth and closed it with a click. He'd expected Xander to give his approval, but to go as far as recommending him when there didn't seem to be a need for it… He hadn't seen that coming.

Xander nodded, seeming satisfied that he'd finally managed to silence Nick. "I did this for two reasons. The first is that I have personally watched over several generations of your family, both in the name of my old friendship with your grandfather and because I believe you all possess a talent that, if nurtured, could reach great heights."

I can see that. Dad reached Prestige before his forties, which is a significant achievement. His father also achieved Prestige, despite being hindered by spreading himself too thin, which, now that I think about it, might explain why he was so tough on Dad during his childhood. No father wants their son to repeat their mistakes.

And even when looking at just the last generation, Devon was already making a name for himself at Alluria's training grounds, kicking the ass of most entitled noble scions who thought they could lord their house's power over the newly ennobled Crowleys, while Nick… Well, he was Nick.

Since Xander Wolfram, a Grandmaster though he might be, didn't have children of his own, they were his heirs in spirit, even if they didn't bear his name.

Devon would keep his swordsmanship alive, showing no desire to "taint" it like Eugene had.

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"The second reason is that Tholm is a respectable man, for a mage. He has his own shady dealings, but he keeps them separate from his students, and has enough power to protect you if you need it," Xander continued, sounding more serious now.

"I don't know what plans you have in motion, child, but despite the short amount of time we've known each other, I can tell you will have an eventful life. Having a master capable of shielding you until you're strong enough to face the winds on your own will only benefit you."

Nick pressed his lips together. He wasn't sure how much Xander had figured out about his true powers, but the knowing gleam in his eyes told him it was more than he was comfortable with.

Still, he didn't seem inclined to use that against him, so he would just have to take what he could get from his generosity.

"Thank you for your help, Master Xander," he replied, bowing his head.

The next morning, Nick sat in the main living room on the ground floor, breathing in and out, circulating his mana through his channels in an attempt to distract himself.

It had been a while since he got any practice with the [Stalking Gait] that wasn't just a glorified calming technique, and he was about to try a deeper cycle when a presence veered off the main road toward Wolfram Manor.

"He's here," he said, opening his eyes.

Sonya was already heading toward the gates and would arrive just before the Tower mage. That girl must have a precognitive sense to know when guests are about to arrive.

The mysteries of the Maid class were numerous and increasingly complex, but today wouldn't be the day he solved them.

A few minutes later, a short, thin mage in canary yellow and silver robes, with the faintest hint of tower blue on the inner lining that peeked out from his collar, was let into the room by Sonya, who bowed out after giving Nick an encouraging smile.

"Ah, Mister Crowley, just the young man I was looking for," the mage said, walking closer and extending his hand for a greeting. Follow current novels on novelꞁire.net

Nick stood up and grasped the hand, shaking it firmly. "My pleasure, Mr…?"

"Ah, yes, introductions. You'd think after a decade of serving as the official messenger to the new recruits, I'd remember, but most of the nobles already know of me. I am Mirkus Lodes, master of divination and communication magic," he said, smiling kindly.

That a master was being sent on such an errand once again underscored how crucial it was for the Tower to properly welcome the newcomers. Sure, Nick doubted Mirkus needed to visit each and every one, but it was still a task most people of his level—around eighty, if he had it right—would find beneath themselves.

Mirkus was not that old, though his curly brown hair was beginning to thin and was styled to keep the holes properly covered. His manners, Nick noticed, also hinted at a possible noble background, but that was just speculation. Anyone who had lived long enough in the Tower probably learned how to behave in high society.

Nick was also disconcerted to discover that Mirkus was more than a little interested in him. No doubt he'd heard plenty about his deeds, but this interest felt a bit more personal. It wasn't yet concerning, but he needed to be mindful of this man.

"And you, of course, are Nicholas Crowley," Mirkus continued, unaware of Nick's thoughts. "I say of course for a reason, you see."

A beat of silence followed, and Nick realized Mirkus was waiting for him to ask. He briefly considered staying silent to see if Mirkus would speak first, but decided it wasn't worth it. "Why is that?"

Smiling in satisfaction, Mirkus chortled. "Oh, you've impressed more than one mage with that display, I must say! The recording of your duel with Master Battera has been viewed by nearly everyone with influence in the Tower, and your theory score was almost as remarkable! Clearly, there's a good reason you were awarded first place among this year's recruits!"

Despite his concerns about the man providing the information and about what was being said about him, Nick still smiled with genuine happiness. Reaching first place wasn't necessary for his goal, but it was definitely a nice cherry on top.

Still, one thing nagged at him, "You said almost. Does that mean I got something wrong on the theory exam?"

Mirkus smiled foxily, "Ah, caught that, did you? I should have expected it from the newest prodigy. Yes, while your practical was by far the best, your theory only came in second. Eona Sadie had the honor of scoring first there. But since the practical is weighed more than the theory, you ended up taking first place overall."

Nick leaned back. He'd expected Eona to do well, but clearly, if he hadn't been there to hog the spotlight, she would have been the one considered a prodigy. "Well, first is still first," he eventually shrugged. He wasn't one to get hung up on the details, after all.

"Aha, that is a good attitude to take. Archmage Quirina always says that perfection is the enemy of good. In magic, as in life, sometimes it's important to know when to call it quits," Mirkus exclaimed.

After a moment, he seemed to recall something and snapped his fingers. Twin scrolls appeared in his hands. Both were wrapped in blue string, although one was closed with a simple wax seal featuring the Tower, while the other looked more ornate.

Even more interesting, while Nick could sense only faint strengthening magic from the first scroll—just enough to make it resistant against tearing and staining, with a weak but steady signature, but not much more—the second was far more intricate.

It took only a glance to realize that this second scroll must have been made by Archmage Tholm, as the design closely resembled the clothes he'd worn yesterday. But while back then he couldn't do more than look at his rings and amulets, as his sight was blocked, now he could probe more deeply.

"This is the invitation to join the Tower. It will serve as the key to be allowed in and recognized, so be sure not to lose it." Mirkus explained, offering the first scroll, which Nick took distractedly.

"Within are the instructions and explanations for what will happen in the near future, but if you have any questions, you can always come find me. Just ask any of the Tower guards for Mage Lodes, and they will guide you to me," he added, winking.

Nick chose to ignore whatever that meant.

"This other scroll, on the other hand..." Mirkus drawled, building the suspense and keeping it just out of reach. "Well, this one is a bit more special."

Barely holding back a roll of his eyes, Nick played along. "Why is it special?" The moment I figure out if this guy really is as sleazy as he seems, I will deal with him. I almost feel dirty talking to him.

Mirkus smirked in pleasure, "This is a much more valuable thing. You see, it seems your result caught the attention of someone high up in the Tower. Well, more than one, but in the end, when an Archmage shows interest, everyone else must step back, lest they make a powerful enemy."

Then he finally handed over the scroll, but didn't let go just yet. "Of course, just getting this won't be enough. You will also have to crack it open, which I'm told is quite the ordeal. You have three days before the commencement ceremony."