Central Black Tower – 56th Floor
Edwyn twirled the red-wax-sealed invitation between his fingers, his grin sharp and playful, like a gunslinger flipping a coin. "An apprentice social, huh?" he said. "Sounds like a fancy way to say 'let's all show off and size each other up.' I'm in."
Erik, the imposing figure with the aura of an arcane beast, smiled warmly, but his eyes held a calculating glint. "Exactly. Just a chance for us official apprentices to mingle, get to know each other. Almost everyone's gonna be there." He leaned in slightly, his tone friendly but laced with expectation. "You're Joron's new star, right? It'd be a shame if you missed out."
Edwyn's grin widened, unfazed. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of skipping the party. Gotta see what the big shots are bringing to the table." He tucked the invitation into his robe with a flourish, his movements deliberately theatrical.
Erik nodded, satisfied, and after a few more pleasantries, he excused himself. "Got a few more invites to hand out. See you tonight, Edwyn." His departure was smooth, but the weight of his presence lingered, like a storm cloud passing overhead.
As the door clicked shut, Edwyn turned to Chayle, who was sprawled in a chair, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the desk. "Alright, Chayle, spill it. Who's this Erik guy? Dude's got an aura like a damn dragon in a robe."
Chayle chuckled, swirling his glass. "Strong? Hell yeah, he's strong. That's Erik, apprentice to Lord Elric, our Vice-Chancellor. Guy's practically a walking fortress." He leaned forward, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Speaking of tonight, you got a date lined up? 'Cause your ol' senior can hook you up with some real charmers. Guaranteed to make the night memorable." His grin was pure gossip, his eyebrows waggling suggestively.
Edwyn laughed, shaking his head. "Thanks, but I'm good. Already got a date who's gonna steal the show." He leaned back, arms crossed, exuding confidence.
Chayle's jaw dropped, his eyes wide with mock shock. "A date? You? Mr. 'I Live for Potions and Knowledge'? I thought you were married to Joron's books!" He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Come on, spill. Who's the lucky lady? What school? Who's her master?"
Edwyn shrugged, his grin unwavering. "Elia. Dual discipline, Evocation and Curses. She's under Lady Susanna." He didn't bother hiding it, Chayle was a fellow apprentice, practically family in the alchemy world. Secrets weren't worth the hassle.
Chayle let out a low whistle, giving a thumbs-up. "Damn, kid! Lady Susanna hasn't taken an apprentice in years, and she picks one, and you're already cozy with her? You're playing in the big leagues!" His grin was infectious, but then his expression sobered, his voice taking on a rare seriousness. "Alright, listen up. These socials? They're all smoke and mirrors. Flattery, bootlicking, fake smiles, don't buy into it. Don't waste your energy chasing 'connections.' If you're strong enough, the connections chase you."
He pointed at Edwyn, his eyes narrowing. "Case in point: you stock a batch of Focus Oil at Agnes' shop yesterday, and today, Erik himself shows up to invite you. Not me passing you a note, him, in person. That's what power looks like. Keep that up, and you won't need to kiss anyone's ass."
Edwyn nodded, his grin softening but his eyes sharp. "Got it, Chayle. Play it cool, let the game come to me. Appreciate the heads-up." He stood, cracking his knuckles. "Guess I better get ready to dazzle 'em tonight."
Chayle clapped him on the shoulder, his grin returning. "That's the spirit. Go out there and make 'em jealous, kid."
Central Black Tower – 72nd Floor, Evening
The 72nd floor of the Central Black Tower was a world apart from its usual grim austerity. The grand hall was a spectacle of opulence, its vaulted ceiling dripping with chandeliers that shimmered like constellations, casting golden light across polished marble floors. Intricate tapestries lined the walls, depicting legendary Arch-Mages battling planar beasts, their threads woven with glowing runes that pulsed faintly. The air was thick with the scent of spiced wine and arcane perfumes, mingling with the hum of mana from the dozens of apprentices mingling in clusters, their robes a riot of colors, crimson, sapphire, emerald, each one a statement of their master's prestige.
Edwyn strode in with Elia on his arm, his royal black robe tailored to perfection, its hem embroidered with subtle silver runes that caught the light. A polished badge gleamed on his chest, marking him as Joron's apprentice. His leather shoes clicked on the marble, and his red hair was just messy enough to look effortlessly cool. Elia was a vision beside him, her long black dress hugging her curves, a sapphire necklace glinting at her throat like a captured star. Her blonde hair was swept up, revealing the graceful curve of her neck, and her green eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and mischief.
"Well, damn," Edwyn said, "This place is fancier than a dragon's hoard. Erik's not messing around." His eyes flicked to the entrance, where two humanoid mechanical sentries stood guard, their brass bodies gleaming, gears whirring audibly. "Humanoid constructs? Dude's flexing hard. Those things cost more than my whole dorm."
Elia smiled, nudging him. "Show-off central, huh? Bet he's compensating for something." She handed her invitation to one of the sentries, who swallowed it whole, its gears grinding as it processed the wax seal. "Identity confirmed. Apprentice Elia, officially under Lady Susanna, welcome to the social gathering," it intoned, bowing stiffly.
Edwyn followed suit, tossing his invitation to the other sentry with a casual flick. "Here you go, tin man." The construct consumed it, its voice rasping, "Identity confirmed. Apprentice Edwyn, officially under Lord Joron, welcome to the social gathering."
Inside, the hall buzzed with chatter and the clink of glasses. Apprentices clustered in groups, their voices a mix of laughter, boasts, and subtle jabs. Most were Mage-born, their pedigrees evident in their tailored robes and the faint arrogance in their postures. Edwyn's eyes swept the room, picking out the heavy hitters, several apprentices in the corners radiated dangerous auras, their mana coiled like predators waiting to strike. Blood Trial survivors, he thought. Unlike him and Elia, who'd been scouted as rare talents, these were the ones who'd clawed their way to official apprentice status through brutal tests.
"Let's keep it low-key for now," Edwyn murmured to Elia, steering her toward a quiet corner with a plush velvet couch. "Too many sharks in this room. Don't wanna be the bait just yet."
Elia nodded, her smile sly. "Smart move. Let's see who bites first." They settled in, sipping spiced wine from crystal glasses, watching the room like hawks.
As more apprentices arrived, the atmosphere thickened with tension. Old rivalries simmered, and Edwyn caught snippets of barbed exchanges, Mage-born posturing, flaunting their lineage or their master's name. Then, a bellowing voice cut through the hum.
"Kelman, you bastard! You're still alive?!" A massive, gorilla-like apprentice, Rurik, judging by his sheer bulk, loomed over another, his magical aura flaring with Intermediate Apprentice-level power. His staff was more spiked club than elegant tool, its metal tip engraved with runes that glowed an angry red as he swung it with bone-crushing force.
The targeted apprentice, Kelman, cackled, his lean frame unshaken. "Heh, Rurik, still dumber than a bag of hammers!" He didn't dodge or defend, standing smugly as the club descended.
BANG! A figure appeared between them, catching the staff with one hand like it was a twig. Erik. His aura flooded the room, a crushing wave of mana that made the air feel like molasses. Rurik froze, trembling under the pressure, his bravado evaporating.
"Rurik," Erik said, his voice low and cold, "didn't I tell you to keep your temper in check tonight?" His grip tightened, and the staff creaked in his hand. "You forgetting who's in charge here?"
Rurik's face paled, his voice shaking. "S-sorry, Lord Erik! I didn't mean it! Please, forgive my stupidity!" He bowed so low his forehead nearly hit the floor, his massive frame quivering.
Erik's eyes narrowed, but he tossed the staff aside with a flick, letting it clatter across the marble. "Lucky for you, I'm in a good mood." He straightened, his demeanor shifting to polished charm as he picked up a wineglass and strode to the center of the hall. Tapping the glass with a silver spoon, he commanded instant silence, all eyes turning to him.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Erik began, his voice smooth and commanding, "I'm thrilled you've all joined us for this apprentice social. You are the elite, the official apprentices of the Black Tower's greatest Arch-Mages, our future pillars." His smile was warm, but his eyes scanned the room like a predator sizing up prey. "This gathering is about building bonds, fostering trust. Keep your emotions in check, and don't disgrace the masters who've chosen you. Calm and restraint are the true marks of a Mage."
He raised his glass, downing it in one swift motion. "Now, let's begin!"