The Last of the Sages (Sage Trilogy, Book 1) by Julius St. Clair

And to think, there was an academy, only a few hours from the house he grew up in, that could train a boy to become one of those men. It was not a question of chance, or whether you were born into royalty. It was about dedication and hard work.
    Something, he knew, that he did not possess.
    Yet, here he was, taking that first step in the right direction, standing on the very gravel of countless battles, gazing upon the marks of mysterious blades scarred into the courtyard pillars. He could see those men, fighting their once proud enemies, now falling in both fear and reverence to what they had once dismissed as mere myth. A Sage standing before them, cool, tranquil, waiting, not for his enemy to strike, but for his own adrenaline to reach its peak. For the moment his blood ran cold and his muscles methodically moved with the blade that had become one with his hand. Quick, and so hideously precise, the Sage would take his next breath and a Kingdom’s army would fall to its knees. For the first time, James was filled with a sense of breathtaking awe, and he never wanted to forget the feeling.
    He wanted more, and there was only way to get it.
    “Arimus,” he said firmly.
    “Yes?”
    “I want to be a Sage.”
    “Oh?” Arimus replied, looking curiously at the young recruit. James stood resolutely, unwavering in his declaration.
    “I’m serious,” he said.
    “You and every other student that has or will enter that gate,” Arimus said, refusing to sugarcoat his words. “James, I do not mean to crush your spirits, but even the strongest of the infantry fall short of a Sage’s status. If you can’t even beat one such as Kyran, for example, you have no hope.”
    “Kyran is part of the infantry?”
    “Yes, but his position is not something to gawk at. He is a brigadier general in the highest division of the infantry. Not a Sage, but still very formidable.”
    “And what about you?” he asked quickly. “Are you a Sage?”
    Arimus lowered his eyes in sadness and rubbed the back of his neck.
    “I wish I could say I was. Nothing would be a greater honor, but unfortunately, I am not.”
    James looked away from Arimus in disgust, not because his new mentor hadn’t reached the coveted rank that so many strived for, but for the revelation that, in order to even think about becoming a Sage, he would have to defeat Kyran and Arimus in battle, two men he figured could take decades to surpass.
    “Your visage betrays you,” Arimus said. “I know exactly what you are thinking.”
    “Arimus, why couldn’t you be a Sage?” James cried out. “Did you not pass the test?”
    He was practically yelling, but he couldn’t restrain himself. He just couldn’t come to terms that this man, the first he had ever seen that he believed he could actually look up to and aspire to become like, could not have reached the height of power. What went wrong?
    “It’s not like I lacked the ambition. It was simply a matter of order. I was not destined to be a Sage, so I did not become one.”
    Arimus trailed off, recalling past events. He came back to the present as soon as he could, and an amused smirk came over his face. He placed a firm and calloused hand on James’s head, who simply stood in awe at how the palm covered his entire crown. James glanced shamefully down at his own smooth, delicate hands, and scowled. They were so pristine, so inexperienced in all things known as work.
    He could not become a sage with such hands.
    “Few are able to keep me talking this long,” Arimus replied. “You must have a gift…but, it is getting late and you must retire for the night. Your questions will be answered as all things are…in time.”
    Arimus opened the academy door and pushed the new student gently inside.
    “Your temporary room is straight ahead beyond the winding stairs. You can’t miss it, and I must add one more thing. Tonight you do not get the privilege of exploration. Understood?”
    “Sure,” James replied, unsure of what