Valice left Alfread in a blood-red standing room outside of a menacing black door. Each turn seemed a degree and each degree an angle as time ticked forth at a turtle's pace. Alfread's mind wasn't a great ally as it reminded him that he'd be facing down people who trained his mother or learned alongside her. He would be no blank slate in this room. His status would be as much a topic as his aptitude. The interview would be a trial of his mother's decision to choose the love of a lowborn man over some high lord's ring and a seat in this chamber.

Alfread's nerves produced tremors throughout his body, most notably in his hands. His arse shot out of his chair when the door creaked open.

"They're ready for you, Alfread," Valice said. Her smile was just as warm as her words. "It's going to be so great to have your voice join mine and Serapheena's as a fellow iconoclast."

Alfread felt both honored and intimidated to be included in the same grouping as Princess Serapheena Ruby. It reiterated his anxiety that he was a pond fish in the ocean. But he gladly offered his hand, and friendship, to Valice. Her grip was firmer than what he'd anticipated from the Meridian belle.

"It has been an honor to meet you, Valice Dalardor. I am in your debt."

"Alfread, you are the friend I've been waiting for. Any notion of debt, you can forget. I'd gladly pay five gold, if it means your story is told."

Thirteen Divines! Alfread adored her, and knowing she would never try to claim him, felt a new layer of safety around her. He wrapped her in a hug that elicited a surprised gasp. "Thank you. Thank you forever. I'm glad to be your friend and gladder to have you as a friend." Alfread felt her tense with the embrace and released her. He offered an apology which she brushed away as wasted words.

"Be yourself with the masters," she said, opening the foreboding black door for him.

Alfread acknowledged Valice with a nod, then stepped into a new world.

The Boudoir's audience chamber was a high-ceilinged room with enough space for a crescent table with nineteen seats. The only light was the blue glow of the moon table, illuminating the faces and chests of the nineteen robed and hooded masters. He felt like he was being inducted into a secret Zamaelic cult. Heart pounding, Alfread claimed the lone chair facing the masters.

Flanked by nine masters on his left and nine on the right, Alfread's eyes were drawn to the man at the core of the crescent. The most powerful cognitive-affectomancer in the Ruby Kingdom, possibly in Leveria, met Alfread's eyes. The Archwizard of Leverian University, Kai Blazelord, had a ruby inferno emblazoned on the center of robes darker than night. His even-keeled, paternal voice initiated the ceremony with the solemn air that it merited.

"Who comes before the masters, robed in white, seeking the rank of novice?"

Alfread followed Valice's instructions to the letter. He stood, stretched to his full height, and spoke in a clear voice, "I, Alfread son of Evan, stand before the masters, robed in white, seeking the rank of novice."

All nineteen masters spoke as one. "You shall be judged, Alfread son of Evan."

A strong breeze knocked Alfread back into his seat then a flame erupted from Kai Blazelord's famed staff. Pandemonium was dark as a stormy night except for the red orb that crowned it. The orb swirled with fire, fiercer and fiercer, until emitting a flame that kissed a chandelier above the table, bringing a ruby-red glow to the chamber.

Brought to light, Emmalyn Panacea sat beside the Archwizard, but Alfread's eyes were held captive by the other woman flanking the Blazelord.

Master Lira Tidecaller had at least one Mahagan parent, her skin tone dark but not quite fully the ebony of the nine isles. Her angular face was sculpted as if a master artisan took a chisel to a stone, like a seaside cliff that had been weathered to perfection by the tide. Her cheekbones were high, her nose straight and narrow. The Tidecaller's head was framed by shoulder-length midnight-black hair that looked like dark waves and only seemed to place an exclamation point on her most remarkable feature. For all the uniqueness of her bone structure and pigmentation, Alfread's gaze was captivated by her eyes. They were blue as the Cardian and seemed to swirl like twin whirlpools when he gazed into them.

Staring into her eyes washed away the immense anxiety he'd felt moments before, bringing a deep serenity as if all his cares in the world were gone. In a deep recess of his mind, he knew this wasn't natural and yet, he dove further in, unable to free himself from her tranquil caress. Alfread knew that most men would consider her a fallen goddess. Alfread felt himself compelled to agree and yet a part within him faintly recognized these thoughts were tainted by whatever quietude was flowing through him right now.

Lira Tidecaller spoke with the same tranquil voice used by the water woman she'd conjured in the Foundry. "The apprentice says she has found Yadeen but brings us Leverith-made-male. Alfread son of Evan, can you tell me what I am the master of?"

Alfread resisted the pull of her eyes, staring instead at her mouth so that he wasn't too lulled to hear her words. "You call me Leverith-made-male but you are Dalis-made-mortal. You are the master of many things, yet in this room you are Lira Tidecaller, Master Water."

Her smile, despite being peaceful in every outward aspect, gave Alfread an acrid taste in his mouth. He felt her mastery, her power, influencing his emotions, and wondered if she were a wilder too, like Tuya of the Hollows. He didn't care that she was Asa's best friend, that she discovered how to create blood, or that her tactics had won battles with minimal losses. This woman was a black hole that could swallow everything she came into contact with and leave a person neutered of life.

He forced himself to look away, hoping to never meet those eyes again lest he be swallowed by the tide and never reemerge. The pure musical lilt of her voice did nothing to change his mind. The more soothing she was, the more horrified he felt.

"Very perceptive. I look forward to this, Alfread son of Evan. Wind. Master Barnabus Bitterbreeze."

Barnabus Bitterbreeze was a stout man with a pinched face that had too little space between eyes, nose, and mouth and too much forehead and chin to meet Leverian beauty standards. Alfread had learned not to judge books by their covers, but Barnabus lived up to his bitter title.

Aged, adenoidal, and acidic, Barnabus posed his riddle, "The wind blows from the west for thirteen consecutive days. The next span it blows from the east for the full thirteen. The following span it blows from the west without stop. The fourth span it blows from the east. The fifth span, it reversed again and blows out of the west. The pattern continues for a span of spans. Which way does the wind blow on the next day?"

Bitterbreeze's mocking grin betrayed that his question was beguiling wordplay as much as mental gymnastics. Alfread re-lived the riddle in his mind, trying to both solve the computations and identify the chicanery. The challenge was exhilarating, making him feel as alive as the Tidecaller had made him feel dulled.

"We don't have all divinedamned day," Bitterbreeze said, showing his true ugliness.

"The wind is ever-changing, Master Bitterbreeze. None can say which way it will blow on the morrow. Patterns will always break before its untamable will."

Several of the masters leaned over the table, stealing glances at an irate Master Wind. "Very perceptive indeed," Kai Blazelord said. "Choose the next questioner, Barnabus. We don't have all day."

Alfread tried to stifle his smile, but felt himself beaming in the ruby-red glow. Despite being the deadliest man in the kingdom, Alfread began to like the Archwizard.

But Bitterbreeze wasn't ready to concede defeat, his voice reaching new heights of ornery. "Assume the wind remains steady in this instance. Answer the question."

Oh, Barney, Alfread thought, the smile continuing to dominate his face. I thought you'd never ask.

"If the everchanging wind permits the pattern to persist," Alfread said, stepping into the confidence he felt, "if we have a total of thirteen spans of shifting winds, the first day of the fourteenth span will see wind blowing from the east to the west." Alfread grinned, knowing the master wouldn't trap him with his wording of which way the wind blows toward rather than where it blows from.

Barnabus Bitterbreeze opened his mouth, ready to close his final trap, when Alfread spoke over him. "Finally, if the pattern continues for a span of spans infers an additional thirteen spans rather than a total of thirteen spans, the wind will be blowing from the west and to the east on the first day of the nineteenth span."

Barnabus's mouth fell open, before twisting into a nasty scowl. Alfread knew he didn't have his whole story, but what a miserable cover to the book! A second master to avoid. Fortunately, Alfread didn't envision himself needing much training in cognitive-affectomancy. He kept his gaze on Barnabus, daring him to challenge him again as the other masters muttered, creating a hushed din. Alfread caught his mother's name in the rustle of their voices.

Deflated, Barnabus Bitterbreeze fell back into his chair. If his voice was acid before, it could burn through meladonite now. "Mathematics. Master Pierre Oshion."

A gray-haired man with large spectacles spoke in hoarse, refined voice that could only be achieved through long years of living at the top of the societal pyramid. "Assume that Athenaeum has three floors, forty bookcases to a floor, with twelve shelves to a bookcase, ten feet to a shelf and one inch to a book. How many books would you estimate it holds?"

Alfread bit into his lip, stifling his elation at being asked a question he had already solved. "Master Oshion, does this include the books in the sub-floors or account for the shelves being double-sided?"

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The mathematician chuckled. "You are sharper than the Crimson Blade. Do not calculate those decrepit parchments in the sub-floors. You may account for the double-sided nature of the shelves."

Alfread wasted no time to recalculate; half of the answer was recalled from his autobiographical memory instantly, then he doubled it and accounted for the other trap left unannounced. He spoke with utmost nonchalance giving less than two turns to make his recalculation. "Master Oshion, if I account for the two cases that are displaced by the connector bridge to the Boudoir, we have a grand total of three hundred thirty-nine thousand eight hundred and forty books. If we are not accounting for those two missing, double-sided bookcases, we can add another five thousand seven hundred and sixty for a grand total of three hundred forty-five thousand six hundred."

Many of the masters shifted, a few emitted sounds of awe, as they stared at Pierre. Master Mathematician pushed back his chair, his mouth open, he nodded. "Frost. Master Casimir the Glacial."

Master Frost was a handsome man in his middle years. Despite his cold name, he'd been warm with his reactions to Alfread's answers so far. "I wonder," he said, somewhat awkwardly, "what else your mind is capable of."

Casimir jotted something down fast, then sprinting with his mouth, spurted out a series of thirteen numbers—some single digit but others into the millions. Alfread wasn't surprised when Master Frost asked him to repeat it.

"Would you prefer I repeat them forward or backwards?"

The masters, it seemed, were not a stoic bunch. Lira Tidecaller covered her mouth, leaning forward and twirling a lock of her dark hair with seductive flair. Others, such as Emmalyn Panacea, scowled at his showmanship. Kai Blazelord grinned, nodding along as if a proud parent of this boy he'd just met.

"Surprise me," Casimir the Glacial answered, tossing his arms up.

Alfread closed his eyes. Not because he needed to, but because good stories required showmanship, whether Emmalyn Panacea approved or not. He drifted into his memories, reliving them at the same rate that he experienced this moment. If anything, the rapid pace of Casimir's recital allowed him to look even more impressive as he hurled the numbers at the crescent moon. Then, like a boomerang, he recited the list in reverse.

After Casimir nodded, Kai Blazelord let out, a broad smile on his mundane face, "You've got to be shitting me!"

The Archwizard, who'd set off the chatter, reined it back in several turns later, prompting Casimir to shrug and announce the next questioner. "History. Master Talen Dalardor."

A short man with a strong resemblance to Valice straightened in his chair. Alfread lost his smile, knowing that this man was amongst the most disdainful toward his responses so far, perhaps second only to Bitterbreeze. "Who united Leveria?"

Every child knew this answer. Alfread almost gave an automatic response, before cutting it off mid-utterance. Talen Dalardor wasn't asking this in good faith. Either he was offering a condescending question or using wordplay to catch him in a trap. A potential sponsor, a friend's father, Alfread took his time seeking the least showy way of answering the question.

"Very good question," he said, "but not one with a very good answer. Philladon Godseer is given the honor in our lore, and was who I was most tempted to answer, but that wouldn't be accurate. The First Leverian brought together many tribal warlords, but rebellion existed until the day he died. You could give more credit to his son. King Donovan extended Leverian rule from Dawn to Dusk and Qoryxa to Seraxa. Yet, I would say that is too simple. Donovan benefitted from his father's foundations and he would have died long before he could be called the unifier had he not had Queen Emeralda to resurrect him, in this very city, and help him rule with her Council of Wizards. While we may fairly assign a significant portion of the credit to Philladon, Donovan, or Emeralda, the truth is more complex than that.

"Millions of small actions by people with names lost to history acted their roles in unification. The man who chose not vengeance for his father's death, but life for his own son. The warlord who lowered his weapons or the soldier who killed the warlord who would not surrender. The mother who taught her daughter that it was okay to love a man from a different tribal clan. That daughter and her new husband, two lovers that had once been at war, who became harbingers of peace. Their children who were taught to let go of the past and cherish the future. And on and on, weaving a web of unification together that took millions who chose peace over war, love over hatred, rather than just one, two, or three. In this regard, we could say that Leverians unified Leveria. But even that may not do justice to your question.

"What makes this question so good is that Leveria wasn't unified one time. We could give credit to Queen Alexia Leveria or Linus Peacemaker for the eras of peace they brought Leveria. We could say the same of those who brought temporary unity, such as during the Truce of the Dragon. Neither the Love Queen, the Peacemaker, nor the Ice Champion did it alone either. Each had allies they trusted with their life that helped them through almost every step of the process.

"And yet, if we go to the deepest layer of the question, we can say that nobody has ever unified Leveria. As long as the Gemstone War persists unification is naught but a dream of peace. We will always have divides that separate us, that keep us from being whole. That is why, Master Dalardor, I do not believe your question has a good answer."

"Few things are black and white, good or bad, right or wrong," Kai Blazelord said. "While complex questions may not have answers that are good and simple, you've just given an answer with enough nuance that it does Master History's question justice. Thank you for sharing your thought process with us, Applicant Alfread."

Unfortunately, Master Historian didn't seem pleased with the answer. He glowered at Alfread, teeth clenched, arms crossed. Alfread tried to shake off his disapproval, to remind himself that not all lordlings would have an open mind to him. But this was a man who could've sponsored him, father to the only friend he might have here. He was crestfallen, the Coward returning to let him know that Valice's mother would be the same way.

"Literature. Master Charlotte Dalardor."

Master Charlotte was much fairer than her husband and her kind expression let Alfread know she would treat him fairly. "What is the greatest story ever?" she asked.

Stories were his realm; Alfread didn't think he could choose just one. He thought of his favorite author, Vara Spearman, but how could he make a choice between masterworks that defined their world? The great bard hadn't been a mere storyteller weaving threads gathered from others in her biographies. She lived in those stories with the characters, playing a role herself. She exemplified Sir Evan's favorite line: it is better to live in a story than to tell one. He contemplated this, finding an answer.

Though his words were not, his voice was modest. "I haven't written it yet."

Talen Dalardor snorted in disgust. "So much pride for one so low." A few masters agreed, including Barnabus Bitterbreeze.

"That comment is beneath you, Master History," Kai Blazelord said. "You would do well to keep such small-minded thoughts to yourself rather than leave behind a shameful history in his memoirs."

Master Tidecaller covered a laugh with her hand. "Confidence and pride stand side-by-side, making for quite a ride when they inevitably collide." She looked from Alfread to Talen, her glances making clear who she associated with confidence and whom with pride. As much as Alfread appreciated her confidence in him—and a new rhyme to add to his repertoire—he had to break his gaze free again, forcing them back onto Master Literature.

Charlotte Dalardor leaned forward. "I would be honored to help you write your story, Alfread."

Beaming, Alfread said, "And I would be honored to have your assistance, Master Dalardor."

Lady Charlotte acknowledged him with a gentle bob of the head, smiling, she said, "Engineering. Master Medes Archette."

A stout man wearing pince-nez cleared his throat. "I've prided myself on being considered the bane of the application examinees. But you performed quite well. How did you, a man without a name, learn engineering?"

Alfread saw an opportunity to answer more than this question. They knew who he was and, after Talen's remark, he wouldn't apologize for being born. "My father took wounds fighting in Mirrevar the day after I was conceived, courtesy of a shadow with Isihlan Eclipse on her blade."

Several masters reacted to that. Kai Blazelord leaning in, soaking in the story. Alfread kept his eyes on Emmalyn Panacea. Her steady gaze betrayed nothing.

"My father didn't have the sturdiness of a Volqori to survive the blood purge he would need to get the poison out of his circulation. But thanks to a once-in-a-century miracle, thanks to panacea, my father survived. I wasn't born with a second name but my family is the greatest gift I have ever been given. To grow up amongst people who bear genuine love for each other, who are compassionate and wise, is something I will never regret.

"But the panacea didn't heal all the damage the shadow did to my father. With my mother's help, he was able to walk again, to perform many of the tasks on our farmstead. However, construction was neither his strength nor something his injuries made easy. My mother's aptitudes, which are many, were several wheelhouses away from engineering."

One of the masters yet to question him chuckled. A master who'd said nothing nor reacted to anything leaned forward, traces of a smile on his face before it faded.

"Our barn collapsed one winter," Alfread said. "I hated the feeling of losing so much, so pointlessly. It lit a fire in me to change that which is broken. My mother fanned those flames, procuring me several treatises on building design, geometry, engineering. I spent the winter devouring them, drawing up several plans for a barn, for other structures on our property. When the snows melted, my friend and I built that barn. We haven't lost it our any roofs since."

"An intriguing story, Applicant Alfread," Master Engineering said. "I am curious to know which treatises helped a youngster learn so much without guidance."

Alfread dove into his memory, reciting each book he'd read that winter. He saved the one written by Master Archette for last.

Master Engineering gave a satisfied nod. "Earth. Master Clintaeon the Render."

Master Earth was the tallest of the masters. His salt-and-pepper hair gave him a distinguished look that was matched by the sophistication of his speech. "Are people evil?"

"I don't think there is any such thing as good and evil," Alfread answered, pulling a memory from a time that was both recent and from another lifetime. The memory of innocence—of a time before the Celegan-tamed wolves, the battle, and heartbreak—was a stab to his chest. He searched himself to see if the answer he gave then remained true. Were the Celegans pure evil? Alfread had been viewing them as such. He tried to cling to his belief that even the cruelest person had an iota of good in them. The words that once he sang proudly were now melancholic echoes of the boy he'd been before.

"King Wilhelm Ruby had his reasons to act like a tyrant, even if they didn't justify his action. Linus Peacemaker killed hundreds before he forged the Great Peace. Only the children's stories have perfectly altruistic heroes and purely evil villains. Humans are more complex. We are dusk and dawn behind a gray overcast sky. We may shine light or summon the night when the clouds pass by."

Alfread's eyes downcast, dwelling on this core belief called into question, Master Earth said, "Keeping to the topic of dusk and dawn: Light. Master Lumen Supernova."

Master Supernova's white hair, wrinkles, and crow's feet announced advanced age that her cognitive-affectomancy would underestimate. Alfread wondered whether Asa was better attuned to Norali than the older witch, expecting that seniority rather than skill explained why Lumen Supernova sat this chair. "What are your feelings on the Ruby Kingdom?" Master Supernova asked.

Alfread tried to restrain his scowl. "It is...my home," he replied, trying not to move into his disgust with how the kingdom operated.

Lumen Supernova sighed. "You need to do better than that, applicant. I asked for a feeling."

Alfread hesitated. This question, asked by masters of Leverian University, by servants of the Ruby Family, felt like a trap set for the lowborn dreamer to fall into, proving he didn't belong. He wanted to be himself, but it wasn't safe. He wanted to lie, to play the role of nationalist sycophant, but he couldn't make himself do it.

"Tell us what is broken, son," Kai Blazelord said, with a reassuring nod. "Tell us what you would change."

Alfread locked eyes with him. Dark and beady though his seers were, Alfread had sensed only support from him. If the strongest man in this room wanted him to be real, he could trust in his safety. Right?

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