“Amara are you ready?” headmistress Rosalie called out, voice as kind and soothing as it had been the very first time she met Amara nearly a year prior. Her long chestnut hair, pulled back neatly into a twisted bun, complimented her tanned, lightly freckled skin. Today was supposed to be a joyous day of preparation for the next. For it was on the next day that Amara would send to an orphanage in the Noble Region. This was a rare honor only ever performed exactly one dozen times in the near one-hundred and fifty years since the orphanage first opened. Amara was the first child under the care of headmistress Rosalie to receive it.

This state run orphanage and many others like it weren’t erected simply to care for abandoned children. They had another purpose rarely spoken of outside of the noble families responsible for securing their funding. The purpose was to seek out talented young people who may have the potential to be of use to the state or the noble houses that require fresh blood to prevent congenital defects caused from inbreeding. The unlucky orphans served as breeders once old enough. Those who were lucky would become respectable labor for the kingdom or even Magic Knights. To the public the veil of nicety was one of many propaganda tools used by nobles to prove how harmful rebelling could be. Afterall, what would become of these orphans if the state, and the nobles who run the state, didn’t care for them and offer them a loving embrace when their own parents were unable?

It was still morning, and the sun had yet to reach its highest point. Still, its rays shined on Amara, causing her young thirteen year old form to radiate softly. The headmistress smiled at this as she walked towards Amara, the wooden heels of her shoes clicking rhythmically against the cobblestone of the walkway. Not only was her first Noble Region nominee gifted in her studies, but she would grow up to be such a beauty. It wouldn’t hurt her chances of getting into a noble house if she could guarantee beautiful offspring as well. Ofcourse, Amara need not know any of this. She only needed to do what she was told, and do it well. There were even times when she wished that Amara was her own child. Now was one of those times. She towered over the young girl and looked down at her. The orphanage, which had seen much better days, was behind her, casting a shadow over the both of them.

It was a moment like this one that first tugged at Amara’s awareness; she knew that this women wasn’t as nice as she seemed. She read the look of this same building that sat at her back, outlining her like a stone aura, as a sign of who she really was. Was she as wretched and scary on the inside as her building was on the outside? Yes and no. She did the minimum required to keep her charges fed and safe while inside. They ate once a day, maybe more during special occasions. It was all that the budget allowed for, meanwhile she dressed in finery most of her charges would never see were it not for her presence. Sometimes some of the older kids went out in search of work so that they could make extra money for additional food and provisions for the younger ones.

The one thing Headmistress Rosalie could say she went above and beyond for was maintaining the safety of her charges. Even the toughest thugs in the area knew never to cross the orphanage gate bearing ill will against any who call the property home. It was said that she strung a hardened criminal up by his feet for the entire region to see. All because he stepped foot past the gate and gave a dirty look to one of her children. She just left the man hanging there until he died and then she even let the crows peck at him. Whether true or not, it was before Amara was arrived.

Amara had considered confirming with the older kids, but it was always one thing or another that got in the way: they were out working, the Headmistress had introduced her to more required reading, all of the kids had gone off to play and assumed the avid reader would be uninterested.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter at this point.” Amara thought, mind partially focused on her move to the Noble Region.

“Now Amara…” Headmistress Rosalie continued.” It’s very important that you tune your senses to this type of wood.” She said, offering a piece of a broken broomstick to the young girl. “Remember the old broom maker said that you will need to find four more good size pieces of blessed wood with the same mana signature as this one. You won’t need to cut an entire tree down, but you do want thicker branches.”

The two paid a visit to a broom maker’s shop in the heart of Kikka just days ago after the Headmistress witnessed her young charge applying magical theory to a broom she’d borrowed to attain flight. It was then that the Headmistress had it in mind that Amara would make her way to the Noble Region on her own. This would prove that she deserved a place at the Noble Region’s branch and that Rosalie had an eye for talent. Young mages at the Noble Region branch, though previewed to more advanced lessons in magic, weren’t expected to take on flying on a broom until they were near the age necessary to take part in the grimoire award ceremony. For one as young as her to have proven she’d mastered the art by flying the distance from Kikka to the Noble Region was almost unheard of. The Headmistress had considered tailing her, but decided against it. After all, it would show that she had no faith in her nominatee’s ability if she coddled the young girl along the way; it would only show insecurity, even softness on both their parts.

“The forest isn’t far beyond the entry gate. Remember, any sign of danger and you hightail it back into the safety of the gates.” She finished, placing the broom fragment in her hand.

Amara walked the streets of Kikka taking in the sights and smells. She noted the towers, many of which were so high that their rooftops seemed to touch the clouds. She noted the fragrant smell of grilled meats which intermingled with the pleasant smell of fresh breads and cakes. All of this made her imagine how the other kids must have felt knowing that the Headmistress had begun to feed her three times as often after learning how gifted a student she was. Did it matter at this point when chances are she would never see any of them again? She noted the sounds of metal crafting off in the distance which made her think of all of the knowledge she’d be able to acquire after gaining access to the resources of the Noble Region.

And as she arrived at the front gates of the city, she noted the bustling sounds of commerce fade, and the sounds of nature rise up in their place. The low pitched whistle of wind brushing tree tops was interrupted briefly by an armed guard who’d approached the young girl. It was odd seeing a man with a sword strapped to his waste, knowing that such things could be easily produced with magic. It must have been enchanted. That would explain it.

“You’re not one of the regular kids.” He said. “Just be sure to be back before the sun sets.” He continued, pointing at the point where the stone landing of the gate met the dirt path leading into the forest. “Don’t stray too far from the path. There’s a bigger risk of getting lost than anything.” He ended, waving her off. “Alright, good day.” She said, offering the man a curtsy.

And so Amara was off. She found the way the sunlight peeked through the forest canopy refreshing. It was different from the way the city’s architecture cut apart the sunlight. The organic shapes of the leaves overlapping in their chaotic shadow puppet show gave her ideas for fabric patterns.

A familiar mana signature suddenly caught her attention. It was small, but unforgettable. It matched the one that she held in her hand currently. It was wood blessed by mana. It took a bit of concentration for her to locate it. When she found the source, she was more than a little disappointed. It was a twig, so wispy that it could barely be said to be a twig at all. Interestingly enough, this tiny twig seemed to have just as much mana in it the broom shard she’d been given earlier. Was the magic in the broom shard fading, or was the tree that this twig came from simply more mana dense? How could this be used to locate better branches?

The young girl held up both pieces of blessed wood and examined them not just with her limited mana sensing ability, but with her natural eyesight and other senses. The twig looked exactly how any other twig looks. If she weren’t deliberately sensing for it, she wouldn’t have been able to distinguish it from the countless other twigs on the forest floor. The broom handle shard was smooth on one side. That must have been where the broom maker smoothed the outside for more comfortable handling. The more she thought, the closer she came to the conclusion that there was nothing in this approach that could help her.

Instead, she began to think about the old man broom maker. He’d said that he only just recently couldn’t make the walk on his own. That meant that the location of his usual source for magical wood was in walking distance. And since he has a shop, he must have made the trip there more times than he can count. She thought for a second longer before a thought struck her like lightning. “The guard from earlier.” She thought to herself. “He’s clearly been in his position for a while. This was my first time out on my own and he could tell.”

She made an excited sprint back towards the gate, or what could be considered the closest thing to a spring to her. She was in fact walking briskly, and continued all the way to the guard who she’d spoken with earlier.

“Excuse me Sir.” She began, offering the man a curtsey yet again.

“Back already?” He responded, straight faced.
“Not exactly.” She said. “I was hoping that you would be able to point me to my destination.” She continued. “I am looking for the path often travelled by the broom maker. I trust that you’ve seen him before. He looks-”

“He’s even got a girl as young and proper as you gathering wood for him?” He said, as he laughed. “That old broom maker manages to get a few young people every month to gather supplies for his business.” He paused for a moment. “It’s been a couple years but you’re still the first one to ask me for directions.” He said, tapping his chin. “I don’t know whether to help or let you wonder around and find your own path like the other kids.”

“Sir…” Amara said, placing her hand over her chest as if taken aback. “That you could refuse a lady such a simple request.”

The guard once more broke into laughter. “Alright alright.” He began. “Since you were smart enough to ask I’ll help you out.” He continued. He then went on to describe his experience with the broom maker, watching him come and go. The most common path was one that simply followed the great wall of the city. He almost always returned with a bundle of wood.

“By the way.” He said. “You may have a tough time chopping wood without an axe.” He smirked.

He was right. For a moment Amara wondered by Headmistress Rosalie didn’t provide her with an axe. It was a fleeting thought that came just as soon as it had come. The woman was always testing her. She always acted so proud when Amara passed that test, as if it had anything to do with her.

“True…” Amara began in retort. “If only I had an axe...or sword.” She smirked, looking at the man’s waist.

Again the man laughed. “Don’t push your luck my lady.” He said before turning back to his post and reaching into his belongings. “You can borrow this…” he said, handing the young girl a sheathed long sword. “The enchantment has worn off, but it can still chop things I’m sure.” He chuckled, letting the sword fall into her open hands. The sword was easily three points, but holding it was a strange feeling. He helped her fasten it to her back. “You be sure to return this...My Lady.” He ended sarcastically. As at this point it was clearly that she was no noble. What noble would be caught working for a broom maker?

And so again, Amara set off. She followed along the wall of the city for nearly an hour before having to stop at a stream. The stream flowed into the city through a barred canal. She began to cross it until the faintest hint of light caught her eye. Off in the distance, a single ray of sunlight shined down on a clearing. And in the center of that clearing, looked to be a tree. And not too far from that clearing, another clearing with another tree in the center. In total, there were nearly a dozen similar clearings, each with large trees in the center. From the look of it, the single tree clearings were each equidistant apart from one another. Were they placed there intentionally?.

She followed the bending stream to the nearest one. The tree stood alone surrounded by green grasses. It’s leaves were the color of sunrise and just as vibrant. It was a thick tree that spiraled upwards, but it was not as tall as some of the other trees that she’d passed. The feeling of magic similar to the twig and broomstick fragment loomed in this tree. And there were so many branches near broomstick size to choose from.

Upon closer inspection, this tree had long marks of different thicknesses carved into its bark. It was clear that others tried to cut sections from it. Some may have even tried to cut it down. Amara held no such delusions around cutting such a thick tree down. The broom maker requested but four pieces, and she already had her eyes on which four branches she would take.

A cornucopia of light poured from her forehead and temples. If billowing smoke were to take on the characteristics of a snake then it would perfectly match the shape and movement of the magical forces she conjured with mere thought. Her raw magic power climbed up towards the top of the tree before suddenly arching backwards and cressing the hilt of the borrowed longsword. As it drew the blade, the unfamiliar sound of sharpened metal singing a tale of its freedom met her ears. She examined the double edged blade, holding it, slowly turning it with her magic.

Holding it this way it felt less than three pounds. In fact, given the fact that she could lift and successfully maneuver just over one-hundred pounds, it felt like she was lifting a feather. And she would use all of that force to cut the wood that she needed.

Her magic guided the sword around the tree like a snake constricting its prey. Amara carefully noted the angles she would need to use to bring down her preferred branches, and then began her work. The first branch was separated from the true in four cuts. She immediately realized how important it was to strike the same exact area repeatedly. If fell to the ground in a light thud, leaves rustling on their way down.

The second branch took just as many chops, even though Amara was burying the sword in the same place. Had she studied blacksmithing, she’d have known that sword dull quickly when mishandled. She learned this fact only after her third targeted branch took more than twice as may chops to bring down, and even then, it only came down after she had the idea to turn the blade to make use of its other side.

The final targeted branch fell in a mere two chops. Though just as thick as the ones cut down before it, she’d learned to be efficient with her sword usage. She unfastened the sheath from her back and used her magic to house the blade once more.
One by one she used her raw magical manifesting ability to gather the branches and place them in a uniform pile. She then fastened them together using the borrowed sword sheath’s straps. Even though their combined weight was nothing for Amara to carry using her raw magic, she was however very limited in her ability to lift more than a couple of objects at a time using different magical faux limbs.

She lifted her gathered materials with her summoned head lights and began walking back whence she came. It’d been about an hour and a half before setting out on this task and noon was fast approaching.

She promised the guard she would return his sword later as she passed through the city’s entrance. She made her way to the broom maker’s shop and delivered the promised materials.

“Wonderful!” The broom maker exclaimed. “You did that so fast!” He said as she entered his shop and placed the bundle of branches on the floor. “If you wait a moment…” He said, walking into the back of his shop, parting a curtain and disappearing behind it. When he returned, he held a finely crafted magical broom in hand. “Now young miss…” He began. “This is a perfect first broom...I mean, it would even be a perfect second broom.” He laughed. “Do be careful in higher altitudes…” He paused, using his free hand to scratch his temple. “...on second thought, you’ll want to avoid high altitude entirely until you’re experienced.”

She offered the old shopkeeper a bow and gently grabbed the broom she offered. The magic she sensed in it felt fresh and somehow more lively than the mana she sensed in the shard of broomstick Headmistress Rosalie gave her. “Thank you sir.” She said, before turning to unfasten the branches, reclaim the sword sheath, and exit.

She released her broom, before reaching out with her magic and willing it to float midair. After mounting her new vehicle she took to the sky. She flew over the city entrance, and returned the sword and sheath to the guard that helped her.

She soared above the city and outlying forest until noon, enjoying her first taste of freedom in a long, long while.