A green construct flashed in front of the Skysworn’s mouth, and her voice echoed over the crowd. “By the order of the Blackflame Emperor, and with the support of the Akura clan, every combat-capable sacred artist of Lowgold or higher is commanded to report to the Skysworn immediately for inspection and possible transfer to battle.”
Jai Long felt a chill. The pillar of shadow was still there, which meant they might see combat today. A small army of clerks and administrators from the Blackflame Empire was flooding out of the portal now, already shouting orders and organizing those they could reach.
He straightened his spine. “Stick with me. They’ll evaluate us together.”
He was certain the other two wouldn’t pass the Empire’s examination. They were both newly advanced to Lowgold, neither were ranked on any of the combat lists, and they both had Paths better suited to support.
It was easy for those in a large clan or powerful sect to forget, but most sacred artists were not dedicated to combat and advancement. A practitioner of illusion techniques, like the Path of the White Fox, was far more common as a teacher, artist, or messenger than a fighter. Not only was raising a real warrior a commitment of time and difficult training, but it was expensive.
As expected, most of the Lowgolds—and even a large chunk of the Highgolds—he saw lined up in front of the Blackflame clerks were quickly turned away. But not as many as he expected.
It was an hour before they were seen, and Jai Long didn’t even get an examination. A Lowgold sensed his power and the soulfire in his spirit, bowed, and presented him with a chip of cheap metal that had ‘Peak Truegold’ stamped on it.
“Sect, school, or clan?” the clerk asked. He was respectful, but it had the tone of a question he’d asked a thousand times already.
“Sect of Twin Stars,” Jai Long said. Those words sounded strange to his own ears.
The clerk dutifully marked it down before asking for his name, age, and Path.
“As a peak Truegold, you’ll be a squad leader,” the clerk explained. “Wait in the designated area for your squad to be assigned to you. It’s usually three Highgolds and five Lowgolds, but it depends on who we get.”
Jai Long saw a squad matching that description pass into a nearby tent from which no one had returned. Another portal, presumably. “Loading us out quickly.”
“Emperor’s orders.” The clerk clearly wanted him to move on, but Jai Long looked over to Jai Chen and Kelsa, who were being examined nearby. A woman was poking Fingerling with a drudge shaped like a spiky ball while a man watched Kelsa demonstrate her techniques.
Jai Long pointed to one, then the other. “That is my sister, and she’s not a fighter, so I want her off the list. That one is, but she’s an illusion artist, so I want her in my squad.”
The clerk scribbled a note. “If your sister passes the examination, she’ll be fighting, I’m sorry. But I can arrange to have them both assigned to you, unless there’s someone higher-ranked who wants them.”
“Underlords won’t be fighting over Lowgolds.”
The clerk, a Lowgold himself, chuckled nervously at the words of a peak Truegold. “Heavens know that’s true.”
“Where are we fighting?”
As expected, the clerk didn’t know.
To Jai Long’s dismay, his sister passed the examination as a fighter. As did Kelsa, but he had expected that. If she had claimed to be an entertainer or even lamplighter, they would probably have believed her, but she would have certainly asked to fight.
He was assigned three Highgolds and another pair of Lowgolds. At first scan, none of them were impressive.
But they all stood stiffly and silently as he watched them, frightened of his attention. Except for his sister, who looked terrified—just not of him—and Kelsa, who scanned the situation herself with unrelieved intensity.
“Can we not tell our families where we’re going?” she asked him, voice low.
“You can leave a message with one of the clerks,” Jai Long told her, “but I’ve never seen anything like this before. If it’s such an emergency, why do they need so many Lowgolds?”
This kind of rushed recruitment reminded him of a clan scraping up all its disciples to defend against a sudden raid, but that was only necessary when the experts were already occupied. The Emperor—an Overlord—could obliterate every Gold here with a wave of his hand.
Which meant that, wherever they were headed, the most advanced sacred artists were either absent or countered.