He was no longer just a boy who was smart. He was a mage.

  A roar brought him crashing back to reality. The tavern had erupted. The men were on their feet, cheering, beating a thunderous rhythm on the countertops with their empty mugs. They were cheering for him. For the local boy who had stood up to a tyrant and won his future right in front of them. Industry was there, a broad, proud grin splitting his face, clapping his younger brother on the back. For a fleeting, glorious moment, Dalliance felt a sense of belonging he had never known.

  The tavern door slammed open. The moment was over.

  Framed in the doorway, silhouetted against the night, stood Cadence. And beside him, face set in inquisitorial judgment, was the village priest.

  The cheering died. The mugs stopped pounding. The joyous, protective camaraderie of the tavern evaporated in an instant, replaced by a cold, prickling dread. Mister Big Cheese stood up with a creaking of oak from the protesting stool.

  Cadence’s eyes swept the room, ignoring the hostile glares of the patrons, and landed on Dalliance.

  Time to face the music.

  The priest, Mister Idles, stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Dalliance. A silver light began to glow from behind his irises, transforming the dumpy cleric into a figure of power.

  "[Aeromancer]," the priest said.

  The confirmation was all Cadence needed. He had lost. His son had escaped his grasp, his future now locked in by the unchangeable will of the System. He couldn't force a clean slate. He couldn't beat him into compliance.

  He pointed a stone-steady finger at his son, his face blank, and scarier for it.

  "Remove your things from my property," Cadence commanded him. “You no longer live there. You have betrayed your family, your potential, and through doing so, your country and your gods. We shall have nothing to do with you."

  A new line of text appeared in his vision, the System itself acting to make it official.

  [Trait Gained: Disowned]

  [Without a father to sign for you, you cannot own land or property. You are a ward of the state, with all the protections that implies.]

  The System's sarcasm was as palpable as the cold draft from the open door. He was twelve years old. He was a mage. And he was utterly on his own.

  Cadence’s curse rang in his ears. The choice was no longer a choice. He was going to have to find somewhere else to live. The plan had been so much less stressful than this. He was supposed to be accepted by the Academy, on-boarded by people who did this all the time, who would tell him where to live. But he couldn't even be accepted at the Academy for another three months. It was the only reason he had been so determined to stay. So much for that.

  If he was being honest, some small part of him resented the fact that he'd carefully followed the plan and this was his reward for it. It didn’t feel right to blame Topaz, but then again, it felt right to blame someone. He was mad, and he didn’t have to have a good reason to feel mad. It was the first tool to hand.

  What am I going to do now? he wondered. The first answer that presented itself, Earnest’s farm, seemed like a good idea on the surface. But he would be passing his father's house on the way to school every day. That didn’t seem safe. But who else would take him? How was he going to get to school at all?

  Then the thought occurred to him: the Bests. The worst they could do was say no. And there was only one place that didn’t have a problem of transportation to the schoolhouse, a place where he also knew for a fact the owners had a shelter they didn’t use during non-school hours.

  The schoolhouse itself.

  It didn’t escape his notice that if he moved in, he would almost certainly be the designated cleaner. Perhaps it was karma coming back to bite him. He had the sudden thought that if Mrs. Best’s shoes magically reappeared after he started working there, it would be as good as a signed confession. The shoes would have to go into the cow pond anyway, if they hadn’t already been found or chewed on by the dogs. With all the excitement, he had completely forgotten about them.

  It was late. It was miles to the Best estate, and he wanted to keep what little dignity he could. If he was going to throw himself on their mercy as a refugee, he wanted to be presentable. So he went to his shack and pressed his sleeves.

  If his dad knew he was there or not, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t interrupted. The feather-light weight of Topaz on his shoulder for a moment showed that he’d been seen, but perhaps she had been watching the whole time anyway. She didn’t offer any comment, just a few light pats on his neck.

  He put all of his earthly possessions—most of them chapbooks—into two burlap sacks, along with one carefully pressed and folded set of sleeves, a vest, and his nicer shoes. Then he set out.

  It was already well past midnight when he left his father's farm for what he supposed might be the last time. His plan had simplicity to recommend it. He would walk to the woods outside the Best estate, make himself presentable, and then go to class. If he had extra time, he could spend it on his new skills, which, he felt absolutely stupid for forgetting, had predictably reset themselves to 1%.

  A 1% chance to [Redirect], down from an almost 60% chance to [Deflect]. That hurt. He had basically lost his primary defensive skill for the time being. And the Aeromancy skill, [Werewind], had sounded so cool when he was selecting it, but it was a spell, meaning it used Mana. He was going to have to build Mana alongside his Wit because he hadn’t taken [Pupil] and the ever-beloved skill of wizards, Acuity to Mana.

  Anyone else in his position would have been a [Pupil] first, capable of casting their starting spell dozens of times a day. Why hadn’t Topaz warned me? he kept thinking, but he didn’t say it. He didn’t say it because the little fairy was offering him her unconditional support, and there weren’t any other people stepping forward to take that role. Even Whimsy, if he told her the problem, would almost certainly have told him it was his own fault. Get your intelligence all the way up, sure, she might say, but why would it have been so bad to get your mana up while you’re at it?

  Looking back, the answer was clear: it would have been better. But at the Mill, he’d blown his perfect build. He should have started sooner.

  Why didn't Topaz warn me?

  She had. Her answer echoed in his memory. “It is not my nature to micromanage,” she had told him once. “I am not a rider with you being my steed. I do not hold your reins. I want to be your friend.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Well, friends give you friendly warnings, he grumbled in his mind. It was a complicated feeling..

  Mister Best was not where Dalliance expected to find him. For some reason, it felt like, despite being a rancher, Mister Best must always be about his books at his desk, grading or preparing for the next lesson. Mister Best, however, was standing in a cow pond, swiping a net through the water.

  "Are you okay, Mister Best?" Dalliance asked. What is he doing? he thought.

  "Young Master Rather," he said calmly. "Step back a few paces, please, and keep a distance. I am attempting—ha!" He swiped again, this time the net emerging from the water with a tiny, snake-like creature at the end. It was black and hissing and seemed to have multiple necks. "A Hydra Swampling," said Mister Best cheerfully. "Not too dangerous to the prepared adult, but they will kill cattle. What was it you wanted, Mister Rather?"

  "I wanted to know if it was possible to room at the schoolhouse," Dalliance said, figuring he might as well get the worst of it out upfront.

  Mister Best looked at him shrewdly. "Trouble at home, I take it, Mister Rather?" he said.

  Dalliance nodded.

  "Any relation to your recent injury?"

  Dalliance didn't know how to say what had happened. Mister best waded to the shore, placed the net atop a flat stone, and brought a waiting sledge hammer down several times, quite firmly. Afterward, seeing no forthcoming response, he pursed his lips: "While I am generally happy to accommodate the needs of my students, this is an unusual request."

  "In your role as adjunct to the Imperial government," Dalliance pressed, "don't you provide shelter for the dispossessed?"

  "Oh," said Mister Best, pleased. "You’ve been reading. It is possible," he allowed, "that something could be done for a time. But remember that I am only a very temporary stop. At some point, you would need to be entered into the Imperial orphanage rolls."

  "At some point soon, I’m going to the Academy," Dalliance said calmly.

  "I see," said Mister Best. He rubbed his hands together. "That puts a different light on things. You do realize three months is a rather significant period of time?"

  "Yes, sir. I’m prepared to contribute. I thought about it on the way over. There was no possible way around it. I'll contribute by maintaining the house and grounds."

  "You must be hard up," he said, "if you’re volunteering to do chores. We both know how you feel about mopping."

  Dalliance looked at him, scandalized, his fear and nervousness vanishing in a flash of anger. You knew how I felt about mopping?

  "There’s the Rather boy I know," said Mister Best. "What you ask is entirely possible, and not unreasonable under the circumstances. I will procure the relevant paperwork, and you will need to have words with the resident Temple representative."

  "Mister Idles?"

  "Quite, yes.”

  “And then?"

  “I assume you shall sleep here. Clean, remain out of our home, except during meal times, at which point you are invited to visit, unless you make other arrangements. I shall provide bedding and board one way or another, if needed."

  “Thank you.” Dalliance felt the words were an understatement, but they were the ones he had.

  "All of this is contingent, I’m afraid, upon a conversation with Mrs. Best. But even in the worst of circumstances, I can provide you with one night for certain. Go ahead and put your things in the school house. You’ll be staying here tonight."