"I'm leaving a fight just because you're a girl. This doesn't mean that I'll forgive you next time!" Timothy shouted. He twisted his angry expression in a false calm when a group of girls behind them walked past him, shaking their heads in disapproval.

"No, no, no, no. That was not me. Hey!" He called after them.

As he was trying to mend things, a gang of boys walked past them, guffawing at Timothy.

Finally, the three boys let go of Timothy.

"I messed up..." He sighed, despondent.

"Let's go. We have a long year ahead," Charlie said, tapping on Timothy's shoulder.

Ermand and Emile followed them. All the students were assembled in an area larger than the Great hall. It was called Grottin's hall.

Eighteen professors stood on a raised platform at the end of the hall. Among them, a professor strolled forward and raised his right hand in the air. The whole room became silent.

"I am Professor Oscar Qorder, the second head of the whole University and the professor for Specialisation for Qorder clans and Profundity Protection Studies. I work for all the departments. You are brought here to be classified according to the department you wish to go for. Professor Derek Chestnut here will be making a brief announcement about each department. After choosing your department, you will be required to prove that you are worthy enough..."

"Being a Defender is in my blood," Timothy muttered. Ermand glanced at the other professors standing in the back.

They stood, a majestic aura around them and proud. They wore black cloaks, revealing their white shirt and brown pants.

"I'm Derek Chestnut and I teach Clan Specialization for Chestnuts and also deal with Clan and Renovated clan studies. Here are the departments Agledon provides you," he said, clearing his throat. All of the students listened to him, eagerly.

"Defense, six years to graduate. Healing, six years to graduate. Magical Inventions and Discoveries, six and-a-half years. Magical literature, five years. Magical philosophy and Ancient studies, four years. Artistic and Aesthetic studies, five years and the Protector Training, seven years. From each side of this hall, these seven departments are available. A selection process will be held, forms should be filled to attend the selection. If any fails the selection, the chance to choose another department is given but if he or she fails again, elimination is considered. Thank you," he said before stepping down from the podium.

"Defenders. This is the Defender Selection desk. Lineup! Lineup!" An Instructor declared at the corner of the Grottin's hall just after the Professor's speech. The other departments were also announced by their respective Instructors.

"Let's go," Timothy tapped Ermand's shoulder.

"Uh-I-It's--" he stammered, rooted to his spot.

"What is the matter?" Emile asked, looking at Ermand.

"He has a problem with choosing," Timothy explained. "It's finally your choice that matters. I can't force you to go for any."

"I don't think I'm capable of joining the Defenders--"

"None of us are qualified, but choice is something one can make themselves right?"

That's right. The choice is mine.

"Do you know how fantastic the Defenders department is?" Timothy prompted him. "They say that boys who choose shirts over skirts should be a Defender."

A boy who passed by Timothy, frowned at him. He had a pale-green coloured form that was indicative of the Healing department.

"No, offence," Timothy gave him a lopsided smile.

Ermand wet his lips, thinking long and hard, settling for a firm conclusion.

"I will go for Defense."

"Cool, let's not waste anymore time."

They hurtled between the crowd of students toward the Defenders selection corner, pulling and pushing through the thick crowd.

When they were about to pick the pale-orange coloured form, Ermand mused for over a minute.

"I think I should tell you guys something."

The boys paused from their actions and turned to listen to him.

"I hadn't attended any school in my whole lifetime."

"You're joking," Charlie said, his eyebrows furrowed.

"No, it is true."

Ermand expected a shock on their faces but they showed no reaction except a low gasp from Emile.

"Then what's the point of joining a college?" Emile whispered, his eyes never leaving Ermand. He prepared himself to register every word of Ermand.

"My parents and my brother-- brothers think that there will be no need for me to attend any primary education."

"And why do they think like that?" he asked, his voice wasn't low or calm.

"They say I'm capable of it. I'm just ready enough to attend a college."

"So how did you pass the interview?" Charlie enquired.

"The High professor passed me."

Timothy frowned at this. Ermand produced the small note from the pocket of his jeans. Timothy eagerly took it and read each line. Timothy's eyes widened as his jaw dropped. A sense of foreboding looked over him. Ermand watched him carefully. He sat on a chair near to him.

"The high professor wrote you a personal note!"

Ermand watched Timothy's pupils dilate while he asked loudly with a mixture of shock in his tone. The entire people in the prodigious hall stared at the two young men sitting.

"I mean...What a fantastic joke!"

Timothy broke into laughter. He swung in the chair and slapped Ermand's back while he let out a maniacal laughter that seemed forced. Emile and Charlie chuckled uncomfortably along with Timothy.

The crowd slowly diverted off to their respective departments for the selection process.

"Nice way of solving that," Charlie whispered.

"Is it really true, did he give you that card?" Emile asked. He looked from Timothy and then at Ermand.

"Yes, the High Professor did give me a personal note which all of the Professors during the interview had seen. I failed in the interview but..." Ermand turned his gaze at the paper in Timothy's hands. Timothy immediately gave it to Emile.

Emile's eyeballs protruded out so drastically that it seemed possible his eyes could touch his glasses while he finished reading it. Charlie too, was shocked when he read the paper alongside Emile.

"You shouldn't let others know about this," Timothy whispered, his eyes scanned around the hall.

Emile and Charlie nodded in unison.

"Ermand didn't attend any magical school yet, but he has the High Professor's note which clearly states that he's selected. This is not possible, although," Emile shrugged.

Ermand nodded. He wasn't sure why they gasped when they were told about the note.

"Why are you guys so shocked about this?"

"Because the High Professor never writes a note personally to anybody!" Charlie stressed in exasperation. "So, what are you going to do about this?"

"That's what I'm talking about," Timothy replied, rubbing his chin.

"Keep the note with you and we'll show this when they ask. That's why he gave you this note in the first place," Emile shrugged.

That was true, partially. The High Professor didn't know that Ermand hadn't attended any magic school. What if he misunderstood him? These were questions Ermand wished someone could answer. He didn't discuss it with his friends.

"It should work," Charlie nodded, bringing Ermand back from his thoughts.

"You guys said that the High Professor never writes a direct message to any student," Ermand mused.

"It is strange. Usually, it's the other Professors that give you a note, if it is necessary, only. As far as I know, he's a man who possesses secrets no one could uncover. He doesn't write cards like these to anybody if it isn't official." Timothy stated, perusing the small note.

What did mum and dad tell the High Professor?

"Whatever, now the matter is whether you're explaining it to the woman over there or something else?" Charlie raised a brow.

"It'd seem too much of a surprise for her."

"Timothy's right, she wouldn't believe it. I heard Chelsea, my sister, saying that she's very fussy. Her name is Gorda, or something like that. She's the woman who coordinates the selection for Defenders," Charlie whispered.

"What do I do then?" Ermand arched his brows after pausing for a moment.

"Keep it with you, and explain it to the interviewer. That makes sense. You can even write some random school name for Chisels or the same school your brothers attended." Timothy told him, returning the note.

Ermand nodded and stared at the form in his hands.

I just have to write any random school name that the Chisels attend.

Something constrained Ermand from writing. He doubted whether all of this was reality. Was he really in Agledon? Did the professor really write him the letter? Was he daydreaming or something?

"Stop letting thoughts invade your mind and start scribbling," Charlie advised.

He may be right... a thought dangled in Ermand's mind. Even if this isn't the reality, I must try to dwell in the moment.

Ermand slid the note into his jean pocket and stood up. He exhaled before walking toward a tall desk. A man in his square-shaped glasses partly covered by his black and thick, bushy eyebrows. He also had the same bushy moustache that seemed to block his nostrils. He looked like a bull that had seen red. He was accompanied by the woman Charlie mentioned. Ermand tried approaching him.

He didn't notice when a boy pushed him, causing him to nearly collide into someone else. He immediately tried to stand steady and apologize to the boy.

Why do I always hit on people?

"I'm sorry, I was pushed by someone who was-"

"It's okay. All of them are busy here," the boy replied.

He wore a gray jacket and loose fitting black pants that were worn over time. He was pale, appearing malnourished and skinny. His lips lost their colour and looked ashen, but his light gray eyes were warm and somehow terrifying.

Ermand forced a smile. The boy seemed kind to him, and he didn't know how to respond.

"Hi," he finally said.

"Hello. I'm Barlour, Odin Barlour. What is your name?" The boy enquired. His thin lips widened as he spoke.

"Chisel, Ermand Chisel."

"You're going for the Defense?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Actually, I haven't thought much about it yet. I'm trying to find what I should select. What would you suggest?"

"Defenders, maybe."

"Is that a good choice?" he asked, his face lighting up.

"Well, my choice for the Defenders wasn't truly my own," he replied.

"I assure you the Defenders department will never leave empty vacant. Even while applying for a job after you graduate."

Ermand beamed at him. The boy frowned at Ermand.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

He heard Agledon's a mixture of diverse students, coming from different countries from the planet of Iyerth.

"Here," Ermand replied. "You?"

"Not here. Lintonland. You know there? I was so excited when I received the invitation."

"I don't know any places except the countries around Tawarn, and some that I read in the newspaper..." Ermand mused for a moment and continued. "You must've missed your homeland a lot?"

"My mother and I have lived there since I was born. We migrated here due to the reason of joining the college."

Ermand half nodded, he was interrupted by Charlie who tapped on Ermand's shoulder from behind.

"Have you filled it yet? You might get late for the selection, I'm telling you."

"Yes, I'll be there in a flash," Ermand responded with a smile after turning to see it was him.

He immediately scribbled the name of Chisels' magic school that both Jack and Jason attended. Before he joined Charlie, he turned to Odin.

"I..." Odin called Ermand. "I'm thinking of joining Defense. Perhaps, we could submit the form together?"

"We can," he replied, giving an unconscious, suppressed smile.

"So, how is it in here, in Tawarn--"

A shrill sound of a woman interrupted their conversation. All of the students turned their heads to the source.

"You lied. Mr. Logge had already told the students in the Great hall that those who try to sneak into this hall will get caught. You should leave this hall straight away."

A girl stood before the tall woman, who narrowed her eyes at the girl. She was quavering, managing to stand sturdy and immediately dashed out of the hall with her hand hiding her face. Many watched her dashing out, murmuring something and reproving her shameless behaviour.

Ermand's heart slammed hard against his chest. The incident became a reminder for him that he wasn't approved by the other Professors. He scored low points and failed the interview, it was just the small piece of paper that has given him strength to walk into the Grottin's hall. His mind still asked him, will he be suspected like her?

***********

Editing credits ~ sticklady2015