Summoner: The Novice (Book 1) SAMPLE OF NOW PUBLISHED BOOK

Chapter 23

'My name is Tarquin, the first in line for the Dukedom of Pollentia. My father, Duke Zacharias Forsyth, is the general of the Forsyth Furies.' He grinned as the second years began to murmur when they recognised his family name. Clearly his father was one of the oldest and most powerful nobles in Hominum. Fletcher recognised the name Pollentia, a large, fertile tract of land that ran from the Vesanian Sea to the centre of Hominum.

Scipio remained silent, looking at Tarquin expectantly under two bushy white eyebrows. Tarquin waited for a few moments until the silence weighed heavily on the room. Finally, he spoke.

'I apologise for my rudeness. I was only saying to my sister that I am . . . proud to be part of this fine institution.'

'It is only out of respect for your father that I don't send you up to your room like a child,' Scipio harrumphed. 'Sit back down and keep your mouth shut until I have finished speaking.'

Tarquin inclined his head with a smile and sat down, unfazed by the exchange. Fletcher was not sure whether it was confidence or arrogance that gave the boy his dauntless attitude, but he suspected the latter. Scipio stared at Tarquin for a while longer, then turned to the three officers behind him.

'These are your three teachers; Major Goodwin and Captains Arcturus and Lovett. You will treat them with the respect they deserve and remember that whilst they are here educating you, good soldiers on the front lines suffer without their leadership or protection.'

Fletcher examined the two teachers he did not recognise. Captain Lovett was a raven-haired woman with cold eyes and a strict appearance, yet when she smiled at the noviciates as her name was announced, her face lost all of its harshness. Major Goodwin looked almost as old as Scipio, with a large, portly figure and a thick white goatee. He sported a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles that rested on a red nose that hinted at a penchant for hard liquor.

'Now, you second years must be wondering why you have been called down early,' Scipio announced, causing the bored-looking second years to sit up in their seats. 'I have an announcement that concerns you all. It may not be a particularly popular decision that we have made, but it is one made out of necessity. In the final exams and tournaments this year, both first years and second years will take part. Should any first year acquit themselves to a high standard, then they too shall be offered a commission and sent to the front lines a year early, where they are sorely needed.'

Immediate uproar ensued, but it was quelled with a bellow from Scipio. He held up a hand as the muttering continued.

'I understand that this increases the competition for the few high-level commissions on offer for you second years. I remind you that you have had a year's head start. Should one of the first years beat you, you don't deserve the commission at all.'

Fletcher frowned at the announcement. So much for befriending the older commoners.

'As for the first years, you may be worrying that you will be given poor commissions this year, when you might have been given better if you'd stayed on next year. To counteract this, you will only be given good commissions of a First Lieutenancy or higher, with the optional choice of a less prestigious Second Lieutenancy should you decide to take it. The winner of the tournament shall be given a Captaincy, the highest an untested battlemage can achieve.'

This received more muttering from the second years. Fletcher suspected that they would have been happy for the first years to take part if they would be filling all the second lieutenancies, the lowest and most common of ranks.

'The King has offered an added incentive to this year's tournament. The winner will also receive a place on the King's council and be given the right to vote on matters of state. He wishes to have a representative that comes from the next generation of battlemages. If a commission as a high-ranking officer doesn't motivate you, I know this will,' Scipio announced, giving the room a solemn look.

Fletcher saw Othello clench his fists as Scipio spoke, though whether it was the council seat, the commission or both that had affected him, Fletcher couldn't tell. Tarquin and Isadora were especially incensed by Scipio's revelation, whispering excitedly despite a warning glare from Arcturus.

'Which divisions will the commissions be in? Will the first years be at equal risk of being put in the dwarven and criminal battalions?' asked a tall, second-year commoner, standing up from his table.

Othello bristled at the implication, but Scipio beat him to the punch.

'You'll go in whatever division you're damned well put in! And don't speak out of turn!' the Provost roared. The boy sat down hurriedly, despite dissatisfied murmurs at the answer. Scipio seemed to relent at the grim faces that stared at him from around the room.

'They'll have just as much chance as you do. That's all I will say on the matter,' he said.

A dainty hand was thrust into the air and the fingers fluttered for attention. Scipio rolled his eyes and gave an irritated nod. Isadora stood and curtsied prettily.

'Excuse me for interrupting, Provost Scipio sir, but what is she doing here?' she said, pointing an accusatory finger at the elf.

'That was the next announcement I was going to make,' Scipio said, walking over to the silver haired girl. 'The peace talks between Hominum's envoys and the elves' various clan chieftains have been a long struggle, but recently we have had a breakthrough. Instead of paying the tax, the elves plan to join the fight themselves, sending their own warriors to be trained as soldiers, just as the dwarves have done.'

As he mentioned the dwarves, Scipio gave a respectful nod to Othello, who gave him a level nod back.

'But there is still a lot of distrust, as is to be expected,' Scipio continued, walking back to the entrance to stand by the other teachers. 'So, in an act of good faith, a chieftain's daughter has been sent to train as a battlemage, the first of many elves that we hope will be incorporated into our military over the next few years.'

He gave the elf a forced smile.

'Her name is Sylva Arkenia, and you should all make her feel as welcome as possible. We were never really enemies with the elves, though it may have felt that way. Let us hope this is the first step in a long and fruitful alliance.'

Sylva's face remained expressionless, but Fletcher noticed Sariel's tail wagging under the table. He wondered at the courage of this young girl, to leave her country and home to fight in a war that was not her own, amongst people who distrusted her ilk. As he planned his apology to her, Scipio's voice cut in once again.

'Now, be off with you. Lessons start in a few minutes. Oh, and Fletcher,' Scipio said, turning his eyes towards him. 'Come and see me in my office. Immediately.'

Did you know that the Wattpad version of Summoner: The Novice is just a large sample of the first draft? The published version is longer and 100% completed, with more demons, more lessons and more action! 

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