“Remember when he tried to surprise her and she almost broke his nose?” Amoria was giggling when Gunnar and Eloria came back into the room.
“I remember that,” Gunnar chuckled. “Only time my nose stung like that outside of physical training.”
“I recall Gregory laughing about it,” Eloria snickered, “right until Ria kicked his shin.”
Gregory chuckled, “Well, I did deserve it. I had been going to surprise her, too, but it was so damned funny to watch him that I forgot to.”
“Hey, where’d all the bread go?” Eloria asked, seeing the empty table.
“We ate it while talking about old times,” Amoria smiled. “You’ll be getting more tomorrow when you learn how to make it.”
Eloria pouted, “Yeah, but I wanted more now.”
“The other loaf just came out of the oven,” Yeva said, coming into the room with a freshly sliced loaf on a platter. “You still have an hour, so eat up. I’ll bring some more tea and juice.”
The front door opening and closing made everyone turn to look. Gunther Emery stepped into the room, looking grim. “Gregory, glad I found you. Come with me.”
Getting to his feet, Gregory was puzzled. Gunther still had his boots on and looked serious instead of happy. “Sure, but—”
“Later. Come now,” Gunther commanded, striding from the room with quick steps.
Gregory got his boots on in record time trying to keep up with the large man. “Mr. Emery, what is it? You’re not like this.”
“Your father has made a grievous error,” Gunther said as they headed for the square. “You might be able to save him.”
Brow furrowed, Gregory bit back his reply and instead seethed inside his head. What in Aether’s name, Father? This day is for those who have reached our age day. Stupid old fool, always causing trouble.
As they got closer, Gregory realized the music had stopped and the sound of merriment had died off entirely. A shiver ran down his spine, and he knew his father was riding the line of life and death.
“I’ve brought his son as requested, Proctor,” Gunther announced as the crowd parted for them.
“Have him come forward,” the proctor’s voice was pitched high, but full of confidence.
When Gregory made it past Gunther, he understood. Proctor Bishop was dressed in the regalia of the Velum Empire, looking imperious instead of friendly. Her hawkish nose and strong cheekbones spoke of noble heritage. Her gray eyes were cold and angry at the moment, making Gregory’s muscles tighten. He had never seen her angry in all the years she had been coming to test those becoming adults.
“I’m here, Proctor.”
“Is this man your father?” The proctor’s foot was on Carmichael’s back, driving the burly but struggling man into the dirt.
Gregory swallowed hard. His father was the second strongest man in the village, and the proctor, who looked as slight as Amoria, was holding him down with her foot as if he had the strength of a toddler. “That is my father, Proctor.”
“His name?”
“Carmichael Pettit.”
“Carmichael Pettit has committed the crime of interfering with the testing of youth and striking a proctor. I’ve been told that he has stood in the way of your dream of being a magi. Is this true?”
Gregory hesitated, but opted for honesty, “My father has not been supportive, but he has never done anything to stand in the way of my dream.”
“Do you wish to add anything to sway my judgement for the crimes he has committed?”
Gregory hesitated. “My father was a good man. I admired him, looked up to him, and hoped to be as strong as he was. When my mother died, he changed. Her loss made him bitter— he grew angry, even violent, but I always hoped he would accept my dream. I would ask you to show him leniency, if not for my sake, then for my mother, who loved him with all her heart.”
The proctor stared at him for a long moment before she lifted her foot fractionally and looked down at Carmichael. “Did you wish to say anything before you are sentenced?”
“Don’t take him,” Carmichael grunted. “He’s all I have left of her. Tell him he’s a failure and leave him here.”
“You wish to keep him because he is all you have left?”
Face crumpling, Carmichael did something very few had ever seen him do: he began to cry. “Yes.”
“You know that what you have done are crimes, one of them with the sentence of death, do you not?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, Carmichael Pettit. I, Proctor Samantha Bishop, have stood in place of a magistrate for your crimes. You have been found guilty and I will pass judgement. Before I do, would anyone here like to speak on behalf of the defendant?”
Gunther stepped forward, “If it pleases the proctor, I would like to speak.”
“State your name and what you wish to say.”
“I’m Gunther Emery, and I wish to speak on Carmichael’s goodness. Before Marian’s death, he was the best man I’ve known in my entire life, always willing to help anyone at any time. It was thanks to his help that many of us got our roofs fixed when the blizzards came over a decade ago. When Marian died, he changed… he stopped being social, he drank more, and started to have violent outbursts. This year, as age day came closer, he stopped drinking. I hoped then that he was coming out of his darkness, and I still think he can. I will vouch for him and help him find his way again, if you grant him mercy.”
Carmichael looked at the dirt, touched by his friend’s words, but unable to reach out in kind. One by one, the other miners spoke up, offering similar sentiments. Each voice made Carmichael twist inside as he faced what he had become over the years since his wife’s death. Tears continued to fall from his eyes as he listened to them all vouch for him.
“Well, it seems you are quite loved here, Pettit, even if you’ve pushed them all away from you. Do you wish to change?”
“I do,” Carmichael managed to get out as he tried to control his emotions.
“Even if your son tests as a magi and leaves with me?”
A long moment of silence passed before Carmichael nodded weakly. “I will no longer try to deny my son’s dream.”
“Very well. After hearing all the testimony on your behalf, and as I have never heard of you having troubles before, I shall show mercy. Carmichael Pettit, you are sentenced to five years of hard labor as a servant of Alturis. Elder, you will make sure he can survive for the five years, but all the extra coin is to go to improving the village.” Removing her foot, Bishop knelt next to Carmichael. “You are also banned from this event every year until you have served the five years. Go home and reflect on your crimes against me, the empire, and especially your family.” Her hand flared blue as she touched his back, making him cry out in pain. When the flame died away, she stepped back.
Getting to his feet slowly, Carmichael bowed humbly to her, “As you decree, Proctor.”
“I’ll help you home,” Gunther said, going to his friend’s side.
As the two of them moved away from the proctor, Gregory looked at Carmichael. Seeing the once vibrant man broken, beaten, and humbled was hard for Gregory to take, even though he had wished for it often over the last few years.
“I’m going, Father. I’ll make you proud of me, and I’ll come home to visit when I can,” Gregory said.
“I’m sorry,” Carmichael whispered before he dropped his head and shuffled off with Gunther’s help.
Once he was gone, the proctor spoke up loudly, “Now that the problem has been resolved, let us have merriment again. Today is a joyous day! Today is the day your children become adults. Some of them may join the magi, aiding the empire in keeping us safe.”
The band began to play, one by one, until they were all in unison and playing a happy upbeat song. Gregory turned to leave, but a hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him dead.
“A word, Pettit,” Bishop said softly, guiding him away from the square.
Gregory did not have a choice as Bishop moved him at her leisure, away from the square. Once they were out of sight of the crowds, she let him go. Gregory winced, a bruise already forming on his shoulder.
“Tell me what is it you seek, that the academy is your dream.”
Gregory stared into Bishop’s stormy gray eyes and swallowed hard. “My mother told me tales of magi who helped create the Empire, like Lionel Lighthand.”
Bishop’s lips twitched into a smile briefly. “Lighthand… yes, he was a great man. You think that if you are able to wield aether, you’ll be like him?”
“No,” Gregory replied. “I hope to live up to their legacy, but I doubt I’ll be anywhere near him in terms of power or ability.”
“Humble, but who isn’t this far removed from the center?” Bishop sighed. “I wish you the best of luck. Being a magi isn’t as easy as many think it is.”
“I think it’ll be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
Bishop looked around for a moment before snorting, “Yes, yes it will be. Beyond the mental and physical demands placed on you by your teachers, you’ll face another challenge that will be even harder to defeat: dealing with your peers, some of whom come from wealthy and powerful families. The few magi who come from the fringe are never prepared for it, and most fail.”
“I won’t fail,” Gregory said firmly, the anger inside of him flaring.
Bishop laughed darkly, “Hold to that anger and determination. You’ll need it, if you can even touch the aether.”
“I’ll not just touch it… I’ll grab it and make it see me,” Gregory growled, forgetting who he was talking to.
“We shall see,” Bishop laughed as she walked away from him. “I’ll see you soon, Pettit. Don’t disappoint me.”
Watching her walk away, Gregory realized what he had said, and a cold sweat broke out across his body. Breathing fast and hard, he started away from the square, his steps unsteady as he considered what Bishop might have done if she had taken offense.
~*~*~
Gregory’s friends came out of the house just before he made it back to Gunther’s home. “There he is,” Amoria said, rushing toward him. “What happened?”
“Father attacked the proctor,” Gregory said blankly. “She gave him mercy. He has to work as a servant to the village for the next five years.”
“He what!?” Gunnar shouted in shock and outrage.
Gregory took a few minutes to explain what happened. When he finished, Amoria reached out for him, but stopped just short of touching his shoulder. Gunnar was pale, and Eloria was holding his arm tightly.
“Are you going to be okay?” Amoria asked as she withdrew her hand.
“I don’t know,” Gregory admitted bleakly. “I think I made my path forward even tougher than it was going to be.”
“We have some time before we need to be at the square. We could visit the merchants until then,” Amoria suggested.
“We could,” Eloria agreed.
“Greg?” Gunnar asked, concerned for his friend.
“We should,” Gregory said, shaking his head to chase away the dark thoughts he was having. “Not that I can buy much, but who knows what we’ll find?”
Touching Gregory’s shoulder gently, Amoria gave him a tight smile, “We’re here with you.”
Feeling the warmth of her hand on his bruised shoulder, Greg took a deep breath. “Thanks, Ria. You always help me when I need it most.”
“I’ll always be here for you, Greg,” Amoria said, taking her hand off his shoulder and taking his hand in hers.
