"Both," he said. "And neither. You're here because the Empire is watching."
A beat.
Then, softer: "And because you earned it."
She didn't answer.
Not right away.
Not until the carriage turned a bend, revealing the outer ring of the Academy—a plaza alive with candidates and carriages both extravagant and plain. She saw them then: the nobles dressed in flowing silk, stepping with practiced grace; the commoners in patched coats and determined gazes, surrounded by mana-tuned luggage and silence.
Her gaze lingered on the latter.
Commoners.
She had seen many in her travels—some desperate, some defiant, many forgotten by the systems that built spires like the ones surrounding her now. But these weren't beggars or rag-wrapped survivors of conflict. These were mages. Fighters. Scholars, even, by the way some of them carried themselves. Plain in dress, yes—but not in spirit. Their eyes burned.
