Spring blurred into early summer.
The snow vanished from the chapel yard, replaced by stubborn weeds and patches of bare earth. Alaric's mornings stayed the same: chores, lessons, and running drills with Kellan until his legs shook. Afternoons he spent with the Primer, or practicing Confirma in short bursts until his mana pool scraped empty.
Life went back to its usual rhythm.
Then a courier arrived.
Alaric was sweeping the stone steps when the sound of hooves came up the road. A horse in simple tack halted near the gate, steam curling faintly from its flanks. The rider wore a cloak marked with the seven‑pointed star of the Church and carried a leather satchel slung over one shoulder.
"Is Father Corwin here?" the rider called.
"Yes, Brother," Alaric said, leaning on the broom. "I will fetch him."
Inside, Corwin wiped ink from his fingers and stepped out. His eyes went first to the emblem on the rider's cloak, then to the wax seals on the packet being withdrawn from the satchel.
"The mark of Larethin," he murmured. "You took your time."
"Snow and mud do not care about our schedules," the courier said. "By order of the regional office, written in the hand of Prelate Marlen. Please sign here to confirm receipt."
Corwin did so, then turned the sealed letter over once. Red wax bore the impression of a star over a stylized tower.
Elaina appeared at his shoulder, drying her hands on her apron. "What is it?" she asked.
"A summons," Corwin said. His eyes went to Alaric.
A few minutes later, all of them were in the chapel hall. Most of the children had found reasons to hover nearby, pretending to be cleaning benches or checking hymnals. Rin did not even pretend; she leaned openly in the doorway.
Corwin broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.
"In the name of the Seven Virtues and by the authority of the regional office in Larethin," he read, "this letter serves as formal summons for one Alaric of Horsin, presently residing at Saint Elyss's Rest, to attend the regional aptitude examinations to be held in Larethin on the fifteenth day of High Summer."
He glanced up briefly, then continued.
"Travel and lodging will be provided under Church escort. Candidates who pass the examination will be recommended by the Church as sponsored students for further training, including potential placement in the Royal Knight Academy of Shersia's capital."
Rin let out a low whistle. Kellan straightened. Mira's eyes went to Alaric, measuring his reaction.
Corwin lowered the letter. "That is the important part," he said. "The rest is times and signatures."
Elaina folded her arms. "Royal Knight Academy," she repeated. "That is a long way from here."
"It is," Corwin agreed. He looked at Alaric. "You understand what this means?"
Alaric felt the weight of every gaze in the room.
"If I pass," he said slowly, "I can study there. With support from the Church."
"And if you pass," Kellan added, "we get to boast that we knew you before you were important."
Rin grinned. "Future big‑shot knight‑mage. Remember us when you are drowning in noble girls."
Mira elbowed her lightly. "Ignore her. You should go."
Lia slipped out from behind a bench and grabbed Alaric's sleeve. "If you go… you will not come back?" she asked, voice small.
He crouched to her height. "I will come back," he said. "Even if I am chosen, I will write. I will send money when I can. And I will visit when they let me."
"Promise?" Lia asked.
"I promise," he said.
She nodded, but her fingers stayed wrapped in his sleeve until Elaina gently pried them loose.
Corwin cleared his throat. "There will be other candidates from nearby villages," he said. "In three weeks' time, they will gather here. From here, you will travel together to Larethin with a priest and an escort."
"Escort?" Rin asked. "Knights?"
"Hunters, this time," another voice answered.
Torren stepped in from the doorway, snow‑stained cloak replaced by a lighter one suitable for spring. His spear was absent, but the scar on his cheek was the same.
"The road to Larethin is safer than the woods, but not safe enough for children alone," he said. "The regional office asked for someone who knows this stretch. Corwin volunteered me."
"You complained first," Corwin said mildly.
"That too," Torren conceded.
He looked at Alaric. "You handled yourself once on the road. Next trip, you let me and the other adults do the dangerous parts. Your job is to arrive with your head full of spells, not scars."
Alaric inclined his head. "Understood."
Corwin refolded the summons and handed it to him. "Keep this," he said. "It is your proof when you reach Larethin. Do not lose it."
The parchment felt heavier than its weight should allow. Alaric held it carefully, as if some part of his future might spill out if he crushed it.
"Three weeks," Elaina said. "Plenty of time to make sure you do not embarrass us in front of city priests."
Rin punched the air. "Training arc," she declared. "More magic. More stick fights. More everything."
Kellan nodded once, already planning, eyes bright.
Mira closed the Primer she had been pretending not to read and smiled. "We will see you off properly."
Corwin began discussing travel dates with Torren, arguing about supply lists. Elaina started muttering about extra clothes and proper boots.
Alaric stepped to the chapel doorway for a moment, letter in hand.
The road stretched away toward the south and east, toward Larethin, and beyond that, somewhere far past the horizon, the capital he had only seen on maps.
This time, the path away from the chapel was not about running from fire.
On a set day, he would walk it on purpose.