That afternoon, Owen went to the library.
He spent hours there, pulling books down from the shelves and going through old records. He found plenty of references to military education, and to awakened officers who had studied at the great academies, and to the Imperial Military Academy’s reputation. But none of it told him what the entrance examinations involved, or how the Academy trained its students from one day to the next.
Eventually, he closed the last book and pushed it aside.
He found himself thinking about his old life.
Back on Earth, if you wanted to get into a university, you could find out exactly what it took. They published their courses and their entry requirements. They told you how to apply, and when the exams were, and often what would be in them. Even the military academies had put out information for anyone hoping to join.
Here, there were four great academies that everyone in Asteria knew about, and yet he couldn’t find out the first thing about what went on inside any of them.
It was strange.
Why would a school that trained the Empire’s future officers hide so much of how it worked? Perhaps they didn’t want candidates preparing for one particular test. Or perhaps their training methods were valuable enough that they didn’t want outsiders getting hold of them.
He had no way of knowing.
His thoughts turned to the examination itself.
On Earth, exams had mostly meant sitting in a hall with a paper in front of you, answering questions until the time ran out. That was how you showed what you had learned.
In Asteria, his education had been different. His tutors had questioned him regularly on history, geography and cultivation fundamentals, and the rest of the time he had been tested on the training ground, with a sword in his hand.
Maybe the Academy did both. Questions and combat.
It seemed possible. But he had nothing to base it on.
He decided there was no point guessing any further. He would prepare for both. He would go back over everything his tutors had taught him, and he would keep training as he had been.
* * *
Over the following days, that became his routine.
In the mornings, he trained with Hugh and Agnes, and afterward the practice equipment went back into the racks by the barracks. He worked on his properties, and on moving in and out of Vapor until the change came more smoothly, and he kept up his cultivation each evening. In the afternoons, he sat at his desk with his old lesson books, and slowly, the pile of books he had finished with grew taller at one corner.
Around the house, preparations were beginning. A trunk appeared in the corner of his room. Agnes started taking clothes out of his wardrobe and folding them away.
By the twenty-ninth, twelve days had passed since the letter came.
The examinations were on the first of next month. And today, the Academy was coming to collect him.
* * *
Agnes knocked and came in that morning while he was still getting up.
"Your bath is ready, Young Master," she said. "And breakfast will be waiting downstairs once you’re dressed."
"Thank you, Agnes."
He bathed and put on clean clothes, then left his room and made his way down toward the dining room.
The house was unusually busy.
Servants were hurrying between the rooms. Some carried neatly packed bags, others boxes of supplies, all of it heading toward the main entrance. Their footsteps and low voices echoed along the passageways.
Two of them hurried past him, and Owen turned to watch them go. He couldn’t remember the house being this busy in a long time.
A little further on, he came across Mara Ellison, Gareth’s personal maid.
She was a composed young woman with ash-brown hair pinned up neatly, and her household uniform was perfectly tidy. She was walking quickly, a folded bundle of shirts over one arm, but she stopped when she saw him and curtsied.
"Good morning, Young Master."
"Morning, Mara. What’s going on? Everyone’s rushing about."
"We’re finishing the preparations for both young masters, sir," Mara said. "The Academy’s carriage is expected later this morning. The household wants everything ready before it arrives."
Owen blinked.
He had known it was today. But he had spent the last two weeks so buried in training and books that the day itself had crept up on him without his noticing.
"Is there anything you need before I go on, Young Master?" Mara asked.
"No. Thank you, Mara. Go ahead."
She curtsied again and went briskly on her way.
* * *
The servant at the dining room door opened it for him.
Edmund, Eleanor and Gareth were already at the table. The room smelled of fresh bread and bacon, and the quiet clink of cutlery and their low conversation made it feel the way it always did in the mornings.
Owen noticed at once that his father was dressed differently.
Edmund was wearing a formal Grand Ducal coat, cut and tailored perfectly, with the Ferrers insignia on the breast. Ceremonial decorations had been arranged neatly across the front of it. It was the kind of thing he wore to imperial functions, not to breakfast.
Owen wondered where he was going.
"Good morning," he said, and took his seat.
"Good morning, darling." Eleanor smiled at him across the table. "Did you sleep well? Do you have everything ready?"
"I slept fine," Owen said. "Agnes and Hugh have been handling most of the packing."
"Most of it," Gareth said. "Meaning all of it."
"Meaning most of it."
Gareth smirked into his cup. "Your first taste of Academy life. You’re going to love it."
He didn’t say anything else about it, which Owen was beginning to suspect was deliberate.
They ate together, talking about nothing in particular. Eventually, Edmund looked across at him.
"Are you ready to leave?"
"I am."
"Good. The Academy’s carriage should be here soon," Edmund said. "The same one will be taking both of you. Gareth for his final year, and you for the examinations."
Owen nodded.
He remembered watching that carriage come for Gareth in the years before. He had been much younger the first time, standing by the window to watch his brother go, and he had asked his father why the Academy sent a carriage instead of letting everyone make their own way there.
His father had told him that the Academy arranged collections for its returning cadets and invited candidates, so that their journeys could be properly coordinated and kept safe.
Back then, Owen had just thought it was impressive. Now that he was the one being collected, he found himself thinking about what it must take to arrange it. Candidates from every territory, all needing to arrive at the same place on the same day. The Academy had to have a great deal of money behind it, and a great deal of organisation.
He wondered how it paid for all of it. He realised he knew almost nothing about how the place was run.
Edmund finished eating and set down his knife and fork.
"I have to leave for the capital," he said. "His Imperial Majesty has summoned the heads of the Great Families to a meeting. I want to arrive ahead of it."
So that was the coat.
"A summons," Gareth said. "Well. Good luck, Father."
Edmund inclined his head.
Eleanor rose from her chair and went over to him. She looked him up and down, then reached out and straightened his collar where it had folded slightly at one side, and adjusted one of the decorations on his chest that had been sitting a little crooked.
Edmund stood perfectly still and let her.
"There," she said. "Now try to look after yourself while you’re away. And behave."
"I always behave."
"You always say that."