46 | The Weapons Choosing Test

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XLVI | THE WEAPONS CHOOSING TEST

    Kael groggily sat down for breakfast, watching the thick tomato soup drip from his spoon. He had barely slept a wink and had been woken up at the crack of dawn, much earlier than usual. His stomach twisted with nerves, and he was sure he would get indigestion if he attempted to eat.

    Wynt seemed just as nervous, quietly staring at his hands and letting thoughts of the looming test fill his mind. Tyra was remarkably calm, taking disciplined scoops of her food with a stoic face. Being someone who didn't show lots of emotions, however, any signs of her anxiety would not be caught by her peers.

    Rita fiddled with a pigtail, seemingly the only one who couldn't wait for the test. She circled her spoon in her empty bowl, watching the thick residue give way to the whiteness of the ceramic.

    And Fadhia talked, her voice getting lost in the turmoil of thoughts. Kael wouldn't be able to say what Fadhia was talking about that day.

    As it was, a heavy atmosphere of nerves and competition encompassed the first years that morning, the prospect of expulsion dampening the mood. On the other hand, the second to fourth years excitedly chatted, making bets on which first years would drop out. It made Kael's stomach lurch.

   "Everyone, listen up!"

    Kael raised his head at the booming voice. Darron was standing in front of the kitchen, where the cooks were cleaning up their mess. He held a large sack, which sat heavily on the ground.

    "First years, get ready for the test. It starts in one hour. To give you some support, we got you somethin' that'll cheer you up. When your name is called, I want you to git over here. Understand?"

    A murmur of agreement responded. Darron rummaged through the sack and brought out a smaller bag. He clipped a tag hanging on the string and read the name. "Nalie."

    The girl Kael shared a bathroom with stood from her table and approached the gruff mentor. She timidly reached for the bag before rushing back to her friends, who clambered over to see what she got.

    There were roughly sixty first years in the Silver Wolf Den, and Kael watched with growing anticipation as each of his friends went up to receive their bag. It seemed to take forever until Kael's name was finally called. He practically skipped towards Darron, eagerly taking the bag and pulling it open as he walked back.

    Excitement overwhelmed his nerves, and he pulled out the items before he even took a seat.

    A seal, stamps varying in sizes, a picture, and a sticker of his insignia were lined before him. He marvelled at them, sleep completely washed from his mind.

    "This is amazing," he said, taking the seal and turning it over to see the dragon he designed. He couldn't wait to send a letter to Lana while using it. Then, he picked up the largest stamp. It was heavier than it looked, and instead of soft ridges for ink, it had a sharper texture, used for quick transfer on bladed weapons through uthra. The smaller stamps were much the same, probably used for weapons that didn't have a wide surface such as whips and knives.

    "Wow," Rita said, taking out the sticker. "All we need is our license, and we're official casters. What do you think, duke?" She placed the sticker on her arm with a wide grin. "Should I stick it here?"

    Kael studied her insignia. Rita's was in the shape of a clenched fist, the fingers and thumbs lined with negative space.

    "Is there a reason you chose that as your insignia?" Kael asked. A fist was hardly interesting, and since the students designed their core themselves, he wondered why Rita chose something so underwhelming.

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