Looking around the vast chamber, Elder Larok started with a sombre tone.
"All of you want to become Recen, yes?"
The twenty or so young men nodded.
"You know all of you might die, yes?"
The boys nodded again.
Larok sighed and started explaining what the Last Trial was and what they would go through.
"Lastly, all you have to do is endure the pain and hope you will see the light of day again. If you survive, you will be remodelled and reborn as Recen."
A young man raised a hand and asked.
"Is it true Recens can't have kids?"
Larok shook his head.
"That's not true. It is just that it is challenging to have kids as Recens. In all written history, only three Recens managed to sire children."
"Why is that?" The same young man asked as they had nothing better to do today.
Since it was the day of the Last Trail, there was no training and the like. The fortress would be empty if not for the small group in this chamber.
Larok shuffled through his clothes and took out a small vial containing a violet-red substance.
"It is mostly because of this substance right here. This substance is what changes humans to Recens, and it is incredibly aggressive to living tissue. Recen bodies will start producing this substance naturally, which is why it's so hard to have kids."
He then looked around the room to see if there were any other questions.
"If there are no other questions, go to your rooms and ready yourselves. We'll start the Trial in three hours. Be sure to arrive at the Trial Hall by then."
With that, the elder left the kids alone and walked straight to the Trial Hall to meet with the other Elders.
"Larok, you're here. Good. Help us make the Vitavi." Geralt nodded, seeing the elder walk into the hall before he pointed at several cauldrons suspended over roaring fires.
Pyrus and two other elders stood over one cauldron each, stirring and throwing different Magical Plants into the pot.
Simply by being the hall, the plants flooded the chamber with mana, increasing its density several folds.
If anyone other than these Recens were to enter the hall, they would die before even reaching the ground. Each herb was, in fact, a poisonous plant capable of killing even cultivators on their levels.
Recens were that resilient to poisons.
And it was this concoction they would shove into the kids' veins while hoping at least one would survive the Trial.
The final potion would, obviously, have healing agents in its composition to help the human body better resist the poison, among other things. Not that it mattered much.
Larok greeted his colleagues and friends, who half-assedly nodded back at him, all wearing downcast expressions on their faces.
None were thrilled about sending dozens of kids to their deaths with this Trial.
No matter how strong-minded one was or thought he was, seeing hundreds of smiling kids dying one after another would undoubtedly affect them.
"How many will undertake this Trial?" Asked one of the elders, a man thin enough to seem unable to stand up. He was the head of the potion department, Tylver.
"Nineteen." Said Larok, throwing a handful of poisonous herbs into his cauldron together.
Tylver sighed and turned to Geralt.
"Do we really need more Recens?"
Geralt knew what was in Tylver's heart and sighed out loud.
"No." He responded curtly. "But the king wants more of us."
"Can't we just leave? It's not as though this kingdom can recreate our potion."
"And go where?" Geralt interrupted promptly. "In all our history, Recens were always moving from place to place, from kingdom to empire, from an empire to another.
"You know this better than anyone else, Tylver. Your school has had to relocate twice already. War and political schemes follow us everywhere, and for the first time ever, we've found the smallest semblance of peace, and you want to throw it away?"
Geralt was also not happy about how things were going or developing. In exchange for peace, Recens had to accept the kids brought to them by nobles and the Royal family and turn them into Recens.
This wasn't how Recens always did things. A century ago, humans sought them out to become Recen.
Humans unhappy about their talent sought Recen schools to hopefully steer their lives in the direction they wanted them to be. These humans knew of the risks but were willing to do anything to achieve their goals and wants. Better to die trying than live unhappily.
Nowadays, Recens have become equivalent to undertakers. It was deplorable how low they'd become.
It wasn't hard to understand why these people were upset and displeased.
And Tylver was the most affected.
"This isn't the peace we wanted. This isn't even the peace we agreed upon." He said, grinding his molars.
"Sure, we hadn't had wars in over a century, but humans still scheme against us. How is this different from before? How is this even peace?"
Geralt shook his head, forcing his emotions down. He didn't want to start shouting at his friend over a bullshit situation like this.
"It is a start." He said firmly. "If we keep our neutrality..."
Tylver interrupted him.
"Nothing will change. In fact, nothing has changed for these one hundred years. We cannot sit doing nothing anymore; we must act now."
Geralt slammed his fist into the table before him, smashing it into pieces.
"There is nothing we can do. We cannot become nobles of this land to gain special privileges. We cannot even negotiate other terms with the King. We could only relocate and lose this shaky peace we have."
Geralt rubbed his forehead and continued in a softer tone. "There are no moves we can make."
Tylver didn't mind the Headmaster's outburst and said somberly.
"There are talks in the Northern Empire about starting a war with Blackwater kingdom. We may be able to hasten this war."
Geralt focused his attention on Tylver and raised an eyebrow. He wasn't aware of this information.
"Is that so?" The Headmaster didn't even question the elder. "But, should we do that?"
The elder promptly nodded. "The war will start soon, either way. We might as well make some moves to gain an advantage over the winner of this war."