Evelyn's mother nods.

"I won't be at too much a disadvantage?" asks Evelyn, a bit hopefully.

"Can you read and write? What is six, five times?"

She pauses briefly. "Thirty. And yes."

"I think you'll be fine. You may have to take the test twice, have a visit to a library in between, but with a quick answer like that I don't think you'll have too much trouble. Now, about money... You will get an account with the Royal Bank of London if you are accepted into Flight School. Even while in school, you will be paid a reasonable amount. Attending Flight School obliges you to work for the UDF for a period of one year after graduation, almost always as a courier in safe areas, or else pay some rather punishing fines. After that, you can quit the Force, continue as-is, or apply for Combat School."

"Combat School moving on to… front lines?"

Her mother tries not to pull a face.

"Not necessarily. You would be expected to serve for a while longer, but as I said, there are strike wings, guard wings, and patrol wings. A strike or patrol wing would be 'front lines,' but a guard wing does not face Neuroi very often, and usually only with overwhelming support. If you don't want to be a courier or go through Combat School, there are a few miscellaneous roles available - explorers and surveyors, the Witch Police, assisting construction work or science and development projects. Though those do tend to go to Witches who have a tour of duty behind them."

Evelyn's mother continues to frown. "Is this because they're usually more experienced, more well respected?"

"It's more about respect and rank than experience... And, well, fighting the demons or acting as a courier - you want to do these things while you are still in the prime of your magic. More intellectual work can wait until you're older."

"If Evelyn shows a talent for this, without going to the front lines, would it be enough to get around that?"

"If she had a great talent, it would. The - special assignments - do their own recruiting. If a general or a commander notices her... And keep in mind, we still don't know what her special magic is. It could be flying faster than normal, which is useful but nothing special. It could be spectacular, like seeing into the future. Depending on exactly how that works, she would be highly coveted and able to get more or less any role she wishes outside of command, immediately. It could be any number of other things."

Her mother nods.

Evelyn looks between the two of them. "So – what do I need to do next? Get to Flight School, apply and attend?"

"That's what I would honestly suggest, yes. Though I think I ought to train you for a few days. At least until you can fly a bit."

"– So I'm not leaving, right away?" she confirms.

"If you want to traipse off without the preparation I'm offering, I won't stop you. Or you mean leaving this village? I think I want to fly you to my post if you want my training. But I have other business here, so you have time to say goodbyes."

"I would like your training, if that's okay."

Her mother nods, keeping her face carefully blank.

Farah nods. "The world is changing for you. In more ways than one. Madam Devillers, I will make sure that the Flight School sends you letters of Evelyn's progress. She can certainly arrange to send you some of her pay, as well."

"Thank you," responds the mother.

Evelyn smiles, a little sadly. "Will I be able to come back, visit here? I don't know the… standard procedure."

"Of course! Not every other week or anything, but the Flight School has a week of leave after the fourth and eighth month, and you could try to find a courier assignment near here... Though that is not at all guaranteed. If you both moved to London you could see each other more often."

"I – uh, I don't know if that would be… feasible."

Evelyn looks to her mother, who seems similarly unsure.

"I wouldn't be earning money through Flight School, I think? So I wouldn't be able to help out."

"Ah... Flight School allowance is one Pound Sterling every two weeks. That's perhaps two and a half Albish measures. Not really enough to support two people."

"I think my mom might have trouble with the move, getting money in London –?" Evelyn looks to her mother to check, who nods, frowning. "So it's not doable, I don't think."

Her mother considers and offers, "I might be able to set something up, I don't rely too heavily on the locals…"

"But it wouldn't be as easy as just moving?" says Evelyn.

"… No, I think not."

"I think this is a choice for you two to make. I hear there's a bowyer around, so I'll go find them and be back in, perhaps an hour or two?"

"That should be fine," says Mme Devillers. "And thank you."

Evelyn nods and says thanks also.

"Thank you for your hospitality and goodbye for now, then."

Evelyn and her mother discuss the idea some, consider the prospects of moving to London, but it doesn't seem very feasible. They go on to check and double-check that Evelyn has the things she needs, prioritized and carefully considered, and a few last-moment ideas are gathered.

Evelyn spends a brief period of time going to the doors of some of the neighbors – those who have been especially nice, those who she forgot to say goodbye to already, those she thinks could be useful later in life – and then she returns to the house.

They discuss the feasibility of the London plan some more. No sudden inspiration comes to mind, but her mother plans to consider the idea further.