Over the next couple of weeks, the kingdom settled in for their winter hibernation. December had arrived. Even if it wasn’t snowing just yet, it was common to find frost on the ground if one woke up early enough. True cold was on the way.

  The capital wouldn’t be completely isolated. There were plenty of good quality, cobbled roads leading from Westbridge to many of the largest cities around it. On top of that, the river would be navigable for at least a few more weeks, until severe negative temperatures appeared. Then, even flowing water would freeze over and ice floe would cover the surface. Ships would be stranded in whichever port they happened to be in, but there was still time to make a profit. One just had to be willing to risk it.

  Most merchants had already done the bulk of their trading in the fall. Wagons filled with grain, vegetables, and jams had disappeared from the roads. Their goods already delivered and packed inside of storehouses and granaries in the cities.

  Of course, there was still profit to be made. Extraordinary circumstances happened all the time. Stock got lost or destroyed. Food was eaten by mice. A random shopkeeper came into more money and wanted to expand his business. There were plenty of opportunities for an entrepreneurial merchant to earn a tidy bonus. Small caravans would continue to travel the roads until the snow completely blocked them off. Peasants always had some more goods to sell if the price was right, even if most of their surplus was already shipped out. Or if the winter was particularly bad, they could part with some livestock.

  For now, the majority of trade would be happening inside of the cities. Open air markets slowly emptied out as people were driven indoors, but shops provided a warmer experience.

  People focused on processing the goods they purchased. They sewed up clothes and cured leather. They built new furniture. This was also the perfect opportunity to repair their houses and equipment just before the real cold arrived. Any hole that could be patched today would make their place just a little warmer and drier.

  It was in this atmosphere of preparation that Elvira got to work on her task. She hired about a dozen mages from the guild, mostly low level, and even roped Perry and Jury in her schemes. Their task was to start sifting through the list of candidates for her brand new magical academy.

  “So you’ve already sent out the letters?” Varre asked, standing just behind his Court Mage and peering over her shoulder.

  She invited him into the laboratory for the meeting. He showed up a little earlier than expected, so he decided to watch her work. She was ready to throw everything aside and not waste any of his valuable time, but the king was curious about the inner workings of alchemy. Fortunately, Benjamin managed to arrange some mulled wine for them, to make the conversation just a little more comfortable.

  “All of them, your majesty,” Elvira replied, as she carefully poured a strange green liquid from a vial into a large cauldron, “I asked my assistants to go through the records and find every single student who failed to finish their magical education. Over the last five years.”

  “That was a mountain of parchment!” Jury complained and forced the pestle harder into the mortar, “my back still hurts from carrying it all down from those damned shelves! I’m never doing that again!”

  Perry appeared behind her and threw a few more leaves into the bowl. “It wasn’t that bad. At least you got some breaks from reading and could stretch your legs. I had to keep sitting there.”

  The other sister extended her tongue. “That’s nothing. Why do you always get the easy jobs.”

  “Wanna switch?” Perry asked, smiling, “I can grind the poultice and you can search through all those shelves. You do remember where we keep the eyes of newts, right?”

  “Of course I do. But you can’t use the pestle right,” Jury shook her head, “you always leave massive grains in the paste. Can’t trust you or your two left hands.”

  “Oh yeah?” the twin said, her tone showing that she was about to play some prank.

  “Now, now, no fighting in the laboratory,” Elvira called out, without even looking up at them, “the sooner you finish, the sooner we can finally go back to the main quarters,” she sighed, “do you see what I’ve got to work here?”

  “Tragic,” Varre nodded somberly, “I’m already worried about the future generation of wizards.”

  This time both of the assistants extended their tongues towards the monarch, protesting his terrible insult. With all the fury they could muster.

  “I’m even more worried about you,” he looked back towards the Court Mage, “you sure you can handle teaching young students?”

  “Hey, I’ll have you know I was a lecturer at the guild until just a few months ago. I know what I’m doing!” Elvira replied.

  “Those were aristocrats though,” the king pointed out, “clearly, these girls aren’t paragons of etiquette, but the commoners will be even worse.”

  “Look who’s talking now!” Perry laughed, “since when have you been so eager to stick to protocol Varre?”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve always been nothing but formal and proper!” the monarch smirked.

  “Maybe Sofia hypnotized him after all!” Jury called out, “quick, someone call the healers!”

  While his many duties didn’t leave him many opportunities to relax, the king could always count on the twins. They were some of the first friends he made in this world and ever since they started working with Elvira, he had more opportunities to interact with them. These were the few people with whom he could act freely and enjoy himself, without thinking about his status.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Of course, his other councilors were trustworthy, but people like Benjamin, Marna, or Hakon were too rigid to treat him as a friend. Even if he repeatedly assured them that they could act natural in their conversations, it was an impossible ask. Even Chancellor Anastasia was too used to putting up an act to ever reveal her true face. And Treasurer Johan was too aristocratic.

  That only left Alderman Nilo and Head Merchant Lester. Men who were already good friends with the king before ascending to the Council. In fact, they got their positions largely because of how well Varre knew and trusted them. And Elvira. She had little choice in the matter, seeing as how the monarch acted around her assistants. She still struggled a bit, noticing how familiar they all seemed, but she was trying to improve.

  “So how many candidates have you found so far?” the king asked, “and how many have replied?”

  “There weren’t that many,” the Court Mage replied, corking one of the vials, “the guild only accepts a couple dozen students per year, and most of them finish. But we did manage to find twenty something students who were forced to leave their education partway. Actually, the recent rebellion resulted in a few more than usual.”

  “That’s not that many,” Varre frowned, “I was hoping for more. We were planning on one hundred and twenty mages, before we even considered training anyone for combat. I don’t even know how many we should go for any more.”

  “I know,” Elvira grimaced, “but these are the people who finished several years of real, formal education. Their families fell on hard times, making them unable to finish, but their knowledge remains. They already know some basic spells, so they’d make great combat, or generalist mages. And within a few more years, new teachers.”

  “That’s an upside at least,” the king agreed, “and what if you searched further back than five years?”

  “It’s not a strict limit,” the Court Mage replied, “we could extend our search to people six, or seven years ago, but…

  “Again?!” Jury groaned, “please no…”

  “But at some point it becomes pointless,” Elvira ignored her, “after so many years, they’d have forgotten many of their lessons. Most have stepped away from magic research completely, so it’s easy. They moved on. They focused on their noble duties, managing land, or became adventurers in search of coin. They’re too old to want to return to schooling at an academy.”

  “If you say so,” Varre remained unconvinced.

  “I do,” the Court Mage insisted, “how many of those five year old students did we find again?”

  “We sent letters to two,” Perry recalled, “and there was that one other girl who became an adventurer and left Logres, and another one who died.”

  “And it only gets worse from here,” Elvira concluded.

  “Fine,” the king conceded, “what about the commoners?”

  “We are just starting. Do you want to see?”

  It took a quarter of an hour for the girls to finish their work. Alchemical experiments are dangerous, so all of the mixtures and cauldrons had to be safely stowed away before they could leave the laboratory. On top of that, the Court Mage’s quarters were kept under constant watch. One of the Royal Guards was even stationed inside, just in case a servant entered with some menial task, or someone tried to sneak through one of the windows. The materials and poisons inside were just that dangerous. No one wanted a repeat of Mikkel III’s assassination.

  With the dropping temperatures, everyone had to dress warmly. Elvira put on a majestic ermine coat. So did Varre for that matter, but unlike her he had little choice. For her, it was a privilege, as a member of the Royal Council. For him, it was Benjamin insisting on such clothing, since the monarch had to display his power and prestige to the public.

  The group sat inside the royal carriage and rode down the majestic boulevards of the noble district. Straight towards the same impressive manor Varre visited recently.

  A pair of Royal Guards were waiting outside the gate, bowing their heads as soon as they saw the monarch step outside. Even their armors were outfitted with additional warm shawls in the colors of the kingdom. They were nobles, who expected a certain level of comfort when standing outside in the cold.

  Inside, the manor was packed with a couple dozen teenagers. Some came with their parents, others were alone. Most seemed a little intimidated by the majestic building, but a few were used to such opulence. They were dressed in better clothes, likely children of wealthy and powerful merchants. They had seen such mansions before, even if their families weren’t quite at this level.

  The majority though were of a lower class. The children of craftsmen, and apprentices. Peddlers, and guards. Some of their fathers may have even been in the newly formed royal army.

  Regardless of their status, all froze as soon as the king entered the room. The city itself wasn’t that big, so many of them had seen Varre before. His carriage moved around the city often, and he paraded around the capital on a horse shortly after his victory. His face was known by now. Still, seeing him from a distance was a wholly different experience than standing in the same room.

  “So these are the candidates?” the king asked, trying to appear friendly to the crowd.

  “That’s right, your majesty,” Elvira replied, “we asked people who believe they have some magical predisposition to volunteer and have their talents tested.”

  This was a good collection of people from various social classes. Most were men, though a few women showed up as well. Strange, considering that nearly all of the wizards that Varre had worked with happened to be female. He decided to voice his question.

  “Well, it’s not like the army, your majesty,” the Court Mage said, “anyone can be a mage. All that matters are their natural attributes. And unique abilities. It’s just that most people just want their sons to achieve success, while the women marry. They don’t even think about trying.”

  The king nodded. “Is that how it went with you?”

  “The nobility is different,” she admitted, “we have the resources to run talent checks on every child. Magical talents are too rare to be ignored, so all good candidates join the guild. Unless they’re the oldest male heir, of course. So this is one of the fields where women have a slight majority.”

  “I guess commoners don’t have the same mindset then,” Varre reasoned.

  “Exactly. They’re too used to having their sons work in the family business, while the daughters focus on helping around the household,” Elvira explained.

  “We can’t have that. If we’re to be ready for a goblin invasion, we need every able-bodied person contributing,” the king replied, “I don’t want to ignore half of potential mages.”

  “I agree. I’ve told my assistants to explain this to every person they test. It doesn’t matter if the sons fail, the daughters could still succeed. Sometimes they return for another test,” she looked around the room, “already I can see there’s a few more girls than last week.”

  “Good, but we still have much work to do. What about the social classes? I don’t see a lot of laborers,” Varre pointed out.

  “We had to start somewhere,” the Court mage sighed, “we can only run so many tests in a day. We’re starting with older, more promising kids. Many of the poorer children cannot read. We’d have to spend precious months teaching them such skills before moving onto magic. And I know you wanted to prioritize speed.”

  “I see,” the king frowned, “it wasn’t an easy choice. In the future, once the academy is built up more, I’d like to provide every potential wizard with education. We can’t be throwing good talent to the roadside, just because someone was born poorer. We’ll need to do something about the other cities too. And the peasants.”

  “Agreed, your majesty. And thank you,” Elvira replied, “no one else would have tried to implement something like this. It’s a generational opportunity for commoners, but there is still much that can be done,” she smiled, though a little sadly, “we have to start somewhere. Would you like to see how the tests work?”