A Small Wager

"A wager?" Arran eyed Brightblade suspiciously. When she smiled like this, it was rarely a good sign. And with a wager added, he knew there could only be trouble ahead.

"First, take a look," she replied. "After that, you can decide if you're interested."

Without any further words, she turned to the large group of novices standing nearby. Arran's arrival had interrupted their training, and they were now standing idly, staring at him with curious eyes.

"Cohort! Form ranks!" Brightblade called out.

The novices set into motion at once. In a few short moments, they had formed up into four lines of three dozen mages each, with two paces' distance between each line.

Arran was surprised at the speed and precision with which they moved. It was obvious that they had practiced this extensively, and even if he did not understand their purpose, just the sight of it was enough to impress him.