The North Courtyard was filled with hopefuls.
Vaelor counted roughly one hundred and fifty youths of varying ages, all gathered in orderly rows before a stone platform. Nervousness hung thick in the air, mixed with competitiveness and, in some cases, blatant arrogance.
"The empire's elite," he observed as he took his place near the back. "Or at least, those who think they are."
Through Gris, flying high above the courtyard, Vaelor studied the examiners. There were five in total: three men and two women, all bearing the posture and bearing of seasoned veterans. One, a silver-haired man with piercing eyes, seemed to be the leader.
"Attention, candidates!"
The silver-haired man's voice echoed across the courtyard, instantly silencing the chatter.
"I am Director Aldric Thorne of the Imperial Academy of Tamers." Vaelor tensed slightly at the name "Aldric," but reminded himself it was common in the empire. "Today, you will be evaluated in three fundamental aspects: bond potential, basic combat, and theoretical knowledge. Only those who pass all three tests will be admitted."
Murmurs rippled through the ranks.
"The first test begins now. Follow me."
◇ ◇ ◇
The Bond Potential Test took place in an underground arena.
Candidates were divided into groups of ten and led into a circular chamber where several low-rank beasts waited in cages. The examiner in charge, a middle-aged woman with battle scars on her arms, explained the procedure.
"Each of you will attempt to establish a temporary bond with one of these beasts. You do not need to complete the contract, only demonstrate capability. You will be evaluated on speed, stability, and compatibility."
When Vaelor's group's turn came, he was third.
He approached the assigned cage, where a young gray-furred wolf eyed him warily. It was a rank F beast, barely above a normal animal.
"This will be easy," he thought. "Perhaps too easy."
He extended his consciousness toward the wolf, as he had countless times with his own beasts. The connection formed almost instantly, the animal visibly relaxing under his influence.
"Interesting," the examiner murmured, taking notes. "Your connection time was... exceptional. And the beast shows signs of complete submission."
"Thank you."
"Not a compliment," the woman said, eyes evaluating. "An observation. Normally, such a quick connection indicates prior training. Where did you study?"
"Self-taught. I lived on the border most of my life."
"The border?" She raised an eyebrow. "That would explain the efficiency. Border folk don't have the luxury of being delicate."
She jotted something else in her notebook and dismissed him with a gesture.
Vaelor had passed the first test.
◇ ◇ ◇
The Basic Combat Test was more complicated.
Not because it was physically difficult, but because Vaelor had to hide his true skill level. After months of training with Nyx, he was far above any normal candidate. Showing too much would attract unwanted attention.
The format was simple: one-on-one fights with practice weapons, no beasts. Examiners evaluated technique, adaptability, and control.
His first opponent was a burly boy who relied too much on brute strength. Vaelor defeated him in thirty seconds but made sure to look like it took effort.
The second opponent was more skilled, a girl with fluid movements who clearly had formal training. Vaelor prolonged the fight for several minutes before finding an "accidental" opening to win.
The third fight was different.
His opponent was a youth about his age, with golden blond hair and blue eyes shining with arrogance. He wore fine clothes clearly noble, and his practice sword was decorated with gold inlays.
"So you're the mysterious masked one," the noble sneered. "I've heard rumors. They say you come from the border."
"The rumors are true."
"What a shame." The noble took a refined fighting stance. "I suppose I'll have to teach you how real warriors fight."
The fight began.
To Vaelor's surprise, the noble was genuinely skilled. His movements were precise, technique impeccable, and there was a speed in his attacks that spoke of years of dedicated training.
"I can't hold back much against him," Vaelor calculated as he blocked a thrust. "But I can't show everything either."
He chose an intermediate skill level.
The exchange intensified. The noble grew frustrated as his attacks failed to land, and his precision faltered.
"How can a border peasant—" he growled, missing another thrust.
Vaelor said nothing. He simply waited for the inevitable opening and, when it came, disarmed the noble with a clean move.
Silence fell over the arena.
"The fight is over," the examiner declared. "Victory to candidate Vael."
The noble looked at him with a mix of disbelief and pure hatred.
"This isn't over," he hissed while picking up his sword. "Remember my name: Cassian Valoris. And remember that your kind doesn't belong here."
Vaelor didn't dignify him with a response.
But he made a mental note of the name.
Cassian Valoris would be someone to watch.
◇ ◇ ◇
The Theoretical Knowledge Test was the easiest.
It was a written exam covering basics: beast types, power ranks, contract types, tamer history. Everything Vaelor had obsessively studied for years.
He finished halfway through the allotted time and confidently handed in his exam.
When results were announced that night, Vaelor was among the thirty students admitted.
And so, the cursed heir of the Ashfords officially entered the Imperial Academy of Tamers.
His mission had begun.