- Location
- USA
I have read a lot of warcraft lore and I have never actually have seen a single mage use real metal armor. I have to assume there is some in universe reason that mages don't just wear plate armor and be nearly invincible.
A Child of Noble Birth (Warcraft High Elf SI/OC)
- Thread starter Midas_Man
- Start date
I wonder if the young Emberbirth and Coldwater will get along. Syllia is making friends!
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
Well that's how nobles roll...
You would not believe how hard it is to find a High Elf picture online that is not one of the Windrunner sisters. And when I do find them, they are labeled as Blue Eyed Blood Elfs!
...so she's not getting there is what you're telling us?
.....
Correction, she was a noble, not a royal. But yes, mama elf is smugly happy!
Where's the helmet OP? Brain damage is no joke.
"Helmets are for suckers!" Says recovering adventurer with head injury that could have been avoided by using a helmet.
Funny enough, it is a thing in lore. They are called battlemages or warmages. The use enchanted light armor and one handed weapons to fight. A spell and sword type of warrior. They're rare, but not unheard of.
Small spoiler. Coldwater is a prickly tsundere who is bad at first impressions and people skills. Emberbirth is a withdrawn type of girl who has no 'real' friends. I think they both need a good friend.
And a hug...
- Location
- USA
just use the in game method, of making said helmet invisible. Best of both worlds, you have a helmet, it doesn't block vision and you get to look like an idiot, oh wait that last one is bad.
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
In terms of the main thrust of development between wars, the clothies had different options available to them. The Lightwielders formed Paladins by training devout Knights instead but for what should be somewhat evident reasons there's going to be even less of a population that would've qualified for Mage training (even if they were so inclined). Instead, between wars they classed from Conjurers to Mages by adding more control options so they weren't so weak in direct combat that way, while still serving mostly in the same role.
(Beyond that at least in the RPG you can see it as having shared influences from D&D, so you eat arcane spell failure from armor.)
- Location
- Australia
Pft, magic invisible helmet. Need to look fashionable after all.
Silly is going to have to collect the who set. I guess her first friend is maybe, kind of, a Bakadere.
So a Kuudere? Quite, check, cynical, check, no real friends, check.
Silly is going to have to collect the who set. I guess her first friend is maybe, kind of, a Bakadere.
Hugs for everyone.
Silveraith
Argent Phantasm
- Location
- Terra Atlantus
You know... given that almost all of the fights were ridiculously one-sided it seems obvious that they were designed that way. What this also means is that who ever set up the matches thought Syllia would be curbstomped by Coldwater. You can see evidence of this when the Proctor looks to the Headmaster, he wanted to call the match but didn't want to do so when it wasn't obvious unless he had the approval of the higher ups.
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
And then it turns out her mom is a yandere and it runs in the family...
- Location
- 5029,113,4888
Since i have the time thanks to covid xD
by warned, different sizes picts.
- Location
- Australia
Really the only difference between a HE and BE is the eye colour. So can just find a cool looking pic and just imagine the correct eye colour. Or if feeling adventurous, you can change BE eyes to blue in game now right? Have a BE mage with the blue eyes with a decent transmog.
Interlude - Academic Purview - OLD
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
New chapter, Interlude 2 ready for you!
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After five millennia of experience, it could be said that Lector Narsis was living the magister dream. He graduated from Dath'Remar with top honors. He achieved the rank of magister at age one hundred and fifty; the youngest to ever achieve the rank at that time. Was granted the title of Grand Magister by his Majesty, King Teldean Sunstrider. Served the kingdom at said post for a thousand years. Retired at the age of three thousand. Came out of retirement to help teach the first humans magic on the orders of King Anasterian. Then took up his current post, one of four Lectors at Dath'Remar five hundred years ago out of sheer boredom.
Now, he was to take part in observing the yearly practical exam.
He took a long sip from his glass. The sweet wine washed down his throat.
Oh yes, for the next few hours, he, the old bat Lybiota, the goody two shoes Merill, the straight-laced Ferenris, and old Headmaster Kernwood, would be appraising the skills of the final few children who made it this far into the exam.
He took another long sip, emptying the glass. Narsis raised the glass to signal a nearby servant for a refill.
The portal had just opened, and the crowd of children soon followed the proctor.
Many of them look so soft, too plump. Fattened up by a lifetime of ease and comfort. While enjoying comfort was not a crime of itself, it would be hypocritical of him seeing as he had a large mansion, numerous villas across the kingdom, and was not the picture of health himself. But he was rich, old, and powerful. Therefore, he could do whatever he wanted.
These children had yet to prove themselves, yet they walk about as if the world owes them something. They look at Narsis and his compatriots expecting to be applauded for merely existing.
A few children did stand out of the crowd.
He spotted the Emberbirth girl amongst the throngs of people, her white hair making her stand out. She stood tall and walked with conviction, no sign of the frailty or weakness he heard some at court whisper about. There was even a bit of fear in her eyes as she gazed across the stage provided to them. Good, being afraid means your not stupid enough to think you are invincible.
And, of course, the Coldwater heiress with her bright blue shoulder cape that all Coldwaters seemed predisposed to wear at all times. While she seemed to tick all of the negative traits he had seen in many of the other children, she differed in that she was powerful. Narsis refused to believe the Lord and Lady Coldwater would allow the family name to be insulted by poor showing from the house's heiress. Time would tell if her confidence was a warranted, or a flaw.
Out of all of them, there was one last child that caught his eye. Young girl. Blonde. Her robes were decent enough. She was terrible at hiding her expressions, eyes wide at the chamber's surroundings. To be fair, she wasn't the only one. But whereas the other children looked to the balcony where he and the other lectors were seated, she did not. No, her gaze shifted to the far end of the chamber. Head tilted to the side, as if trying to see something.
He had no doubt she was looking directly at the royal booth; obstructed from sight by enchantments and spell work.
Whether she could actually see the booth or if she merely noticed the enchantments he couldn't say. The spells were quite intricate. But they did not make the booth invisible, merely hid it from common sight.
No need to get the children nervous about who was watching them.
Speaking of children, he chuckled to himself. Lector Narsis pooled mana into his eyes to peer into the booth. Yes the royal booth was packed to the brim with such people.
And such individuals they were! All the choreography. All the set up. Hell, just listening to the damn roll call before they raised the illusion made him want to drink himself under the proverbial table.
His excellency, Lord so and so, master of the arcane and whatever magical talent he actually had. Following him was her ladyship, Magistrix something or other, mistress of some plot of land no one has ever heard of at the edge of the kingdom. After her was his lordship, Magister something something, master of something. He was sure it was something; if the length of the introduction was anything to go by.
Naris couldn't even bring himself to pretend he heard much after the first dozen or so.
And don't even get him started on that circus called seating!
The seating arrangements looked closer to a game of dancing chairs than a layout with any rational sense. All posturing. All about being so closer or so far away. This lord did not want to be seen sitting before his rival at court. Another lord and lady must be seated close to one another, but never more than a foot near each other. There were two families that hated one another, so the servants put them at opposing ends. Another set of families kept up the veneer of civility, but only if they are both seated equidistant to a third family they are both courting and have line of sight on one another at all times. Who knows what they would do if they lost sight for even a second!
Of course this is before they actually started talking!
The faux passes. The snide remarks. My great grandfather did this. My ancestor did that. My child is better than your child! Ughh. If he wanted to sit down for the better part of the morning and listen to parents preen about their children in passive aggressive jabs aimed at one another he'd just have an open house for his students' parents.
At the center of it all, of course, was his majesty, King Anasterian. Surrounded by only his closest courtiers and the royal guards. A single beacon of calm amidst the sea of ravenous vipers.
His majesty has observed every practical exam for the past one thousand years; ever since he allowed the Academy to host the exams in the depths of the royal palace itself. During that first exam, it was just his majesty, her majesty the queen, several close friends, and a handful of royal guards. They didn't even have an illusion to obstruct his majesty from view. Took ages for the exam to actually start, the kids were too nervous to do anything! Afraid they would embarrass themselves before the King. It took an uplifting speech from his majesty to get the exam underway.
Now? Now half the court attends. How times change. From a small gathering of friends, wanting to watch the future of the kingdom, to another battlefield that the court could bicker about.
He downed the last bits of wine his glass held. Noticing his glass empty, he raised it up for a refill. Honestly, Narsis felt embarrassed being in the same social strata as nobility. Oh if only the masses knew just how the rulership actually was! They would riot on principle.
Hell, he'd be glad to help light the first manse on fire!
As old Kernwood began his little introduction, Narsis focused on the three specs of blue amidst the sea of red and gold; foremost amongst them being his Highness, Prince Kael'thas, seated next to his father. Along with his guests from Dalaran, Arch Mage Krasus and another mage he didn't recognize.
This was the first time he had seen his highness in Silvermoon since the end of the Second War. Naturally he was not privy to if the prince had returned home before this. But Narsis was of the opinion that this was the first time in years the wayward prince had stepped foot in Quel'Thalas in its entirety.
And quite the bold return, he mused drinking more of his beloved ambrosia.
He regarded his highness's choice of clothing. Such nuisance in wearing the robes of Dalaran instead of his own royal robes. Why it almost seemed like he was trying to send his father, and the court, a message. But what could it be? The subtlety eluded him.
He chuckled as he drank, half hearing Kerwood finishing his address.
Though, knowing how infantile and sloth some of the nobility have become, maybe it is too subtle. Maybe his highness should be a bit more brazen. Perhaps hanging the Alliance banner above his seat? Or maybe wear a medallion bearing the crest of Lordaeron rather than the serrated sun of Silvermoon upon his person! To ensure the symbolism wasn't ignored or mistaken for something else.
Naris was jesting, of course. He knew, hell everyone knew, his highness was a staunch Internationalist. Which, of course, made him come to blows with his Isolationist father.
It was well known at court that the king and his highness were not on the best of terms as of late. The decision to leave the Alliance was supported by most of the court. Sadly for his majesty, the prince was not amongst them. Officially, the prince resigned from his post as Magister to focus his role as Arch Mage and a member of the Council of Six in full. It was mutual, the courtiers were told.
While Narsis didn't see the falling out in person, his confidants informed him that it was quite loud. Loud and physical.
Less the actions of a royal, and more the actions of a petulant child throwing a tantrum at not getting what they want.
Which of them was he thinking about again? He smiled, keeping the bark of laughter in his throat.
Old Kernwood finished his speech and the first bout began.
Narsis watched the children take their position. He didn't recognize the second name, but Emberbirth? Oh he knew that family well. Hell, he's had the past six generations in his lecture hall at one point in time. He heard that the girl, while beyond brilliant, was frail. Her robes hid it well, but he could tell she was small for her age.
Despite this, as the first of the white hot flames materialized, he knew the match was a foregone conclusion.
As the girl walked off stage, the tell tale sounds of quills scribbling echoed around him. Narisis didn't even know why they were making notes. The girl had passed. Maybe about the boy? He looked at the boy, still shaking as he was examined by the healers. If the boy had simply attempted a counter spell, Naris might have given him a moment of thought.
But as far as he was concerned, the boy had failed. The boy let fear paralyze himself.
Narsis spared a glance to the royal booth. He saw Lord Emberbirth quite exuberant at his sister's victory.
The next series of matches followed a similar trend. One child would overpower the other. Simple, if boring. The only exception to this pattern were the Greatstar twins; knocking each other out. The Lord Greatstar looked torn between embarrassed and enraged. Maybe he was just surprised? Who could say.
When the next applicants were called up, Naris noticed something quite unusual in the royal booth. One of the Prince's guests, the younger one, Sunreaver or Sunflare he couldn't remember, brought the prince's attention to the match. His highness motioned to the Coldwater heiress. The young man, the name is on the tip of his tongue, shook his head, pointing to the other girl.
He regarded the girl, quickly realizing that it was the same one from earlier. The one who noticed the royal booth were all the other children seemed obvious to it. What a coincidence.
He raised his glass for a refill once more. He could feel the wine being poured as the match started.
Both launched a flurry of spells at each other. Coldwater's frostbolt withstood the underpowered arcane spells launched by, he regarded the list for the other's name, Dawnguard. The girl then leapt to the ground and suffered repeated frostbolt hits as she tried to stand up.
A poor initial showing, he mused. Then again, the Coldwater girl is no better. He watched as the Coldwater girl began to go on a tangent about her family. For someone so small, her high pitched voice certainly carried.
He was prepared to write the Kirin Tor's interest in the girl off, but then things got interesting. The Dawnguard girl, on her feet again, renewed her assault. More arcane spells. But when Coldwater tried to counter, the orbs swung around the oncoming frostbolt and struck true. Or as true as a blow could be when met with an arcane barrier. After a series of more orbs, Dawnguard arced one above the arena, striking Coldwater in the back.
Ah, now he can see the interest in the girl.
Coldwater seemingly did not take this blow well. She began to conjure water and snap freeze it. Using the icicles as spears to skewer Dawnguard.
If Narsis had not been a mage, he might have been impressed by the display. But he knew better.
For all her apparent skill, all her gloating and impressing the importance of her family's legacy and her place as its heiress, she cannot conjure ice directly. She needed to first conjure water, then freeze it. While it had the same result as simply conjuring ice, it was more mana intensive. It also showed she was not as skilled with Frost magic as she was with Hydromancy.
The soft scribbling around him showed he was not the only one who reached that conclusion.
Most magical fights, ignoring outside interference or assistance, were decided within the first minute of being fought. One who lost momentum did not tend to recover it. With Dawngaurd's teleporting and rear assaults', the proverbial pendulum has swung.
If the duel continued as it was, with its current tempo, Dawnguard would be the victor from simply outlasting Coldwater. He see, and feel, the difference in mana pool's between the two; even from where he was sitting. Dawnguard was a brilliant hearth when compared to Coldwater's middling candle.
Then Coldwater did something beyond stupid. She used her frost magic to conjure a small blizzard to momentarily blind Dawnguard and then began to summon a water elemental. The girl was already nearing the limit of her mana pool, yet now was when she uses a mana intensive spell?
With Coldwater already showing signs of mana exhaustion before this excessive display of magic, and Dawnguard looking positively radiant if a bit roughed up, Narisis was confident with his assessment of their capabilities to call the match now. For goodness sake, Coldwater was coughing up a storm and looked ready to fall over dead.
All Dawnguard had to do was just last the next thirty or so seconds and wait for Coldwater to collapse under her own weight.
The elemental charged, the girl blew it apart.
It reformed, she blinked backwards.
It charged again, Dawnguard boiled it away with a cone of fire.
Quite a bright display. Coldwater tried to summon another elemental, but it was over. She could barely breathe let alone summon another elemental. The Proctor seemingly agreed with Narisis's opinion, as he called the match in Dawnguard's favor.
Looking over to the royal booth, he just caught a glimpse of a noble leaving the seating area in quite the hurry. Lord Coldwater perhaps? Other nobles and court officials seemingly whispered and talked amongst themselves; eyeing the girls in the arena. His Highness, Arch Mage Krasus, and Sun-somthing, talked amongst themselves. The young man was quite pleased with the results of the bout; along with his Highness. Krasus looked at the girl with an expression Narsis could not really explain. Surprise? Confusion? Worry? It was hard to tell with how well the man concealed his emotions.
Then Coldwater did as all children do, she threw a tantrum that she lost. The girl coughed and wheezed anger and spite. She even tried to summon an elemental again as she shook like a reed in the wind!
This had gone on long enough.
The Headmaster agreed. He was on his feet before Narsis even noticed.
"Miss Coldwater," Magic amplified the wizened elf's voice across the amphitheater. The girl tried to look up, but she failed. "Your objection has been noted. Please return to your seat. If you require a healer, please indicate such."
The girl realized it was over. Finally.
It was only after the girls had walked off the stage, making room for the next applicants, that Narsis realized he hadn't taken a single sip of wine the whole match.
Quite unusual, Narsis thought as he brought the glass to his lips.
--
"Failed."
"Failed"
"Failed."
"A unanimous vote then," papers shuffled across the table. "Mr. Silver-Wreath will not be admitted," a thundering stamp sealed the decision. stamped the document.
The room was spacious, yet the table they sat at was quite small. It was littered with scrolls and packets of paper arranged into two piles: the accepted pile, and the failed pile. A series of windows brought fresh light into the chamber. Crystals and gems floated about, providing more light if needed. Servants hovered around the table, holding trays of snacks and pitchers of wine.
'Boy has some potential as a mage,' Narsis mused to himself. 'But he will not achieve such a rank at the Academy.'
Following the matches, the Lectors and Headmaster had retreated to a chamber to discuss the results of the bouts. Less a strict criteria of right or wrong, and more an analysis of actions. A student could lose their match yet still be admitted, as in the case with the Greatstar twins. However, with how the process was going this year, losing the match was tantamount to failing.
They had been at it for hours. One by one, the professors went over the remaining applicants.
"Next up, Applicant Sixty-Nine, Miss Venara Coldwater," the headmaster leafed through the next packet of papers. "Recommended by Magister Heren Coldwater. Scored above average in the pre-examination, above average in the general written examination, positive marks from her meeting," he listed off the essentials of her scores. "Overall, a qualified student."
"Perhaps academically, but her personality leaves much to be desired," Lector Mirell noted. She was voicing what they all were thinking.
"She is just a child Mirell," Lector Lybiota countered. "Personality traits such as that can be worked on over the years."
Of course you would say that, Narsis rolled his eyes. 'After all, which family paid for your new country villa?'
"Such things should have been worked on at home already," Lector Ferenris challenged Lybiota, knowing just why the old bat was going easy on Coldwater. "We are an academy not a daycare," he was addressing the headmaster now. "We should not have to educate our charges on simple matters such as biting their tongues. This is something her parents should have already instilled in her."
"We are talking about the Coldwaters," Merill reminds them. The Lord and Lady Coldwater's were very powerful figures at court. Every party. Every ball. Every gala. The Coldwater's were in attendece. While this poltical activty allowed them to entrench themselves as a powerful duo at court, it was equally well know that the Lord and Lady had quite the 'ego' to themselves. Naris has no doubt that the behavior the Coldwater girl displayed was taught rather than simply observed. So long as the girl kept up with her studies, he doubted her parents would correct any behavioral trait that did not directly impact them at court.
She wasn't a daughter to them, she was a another thing to lord over their rivals.
"That may be, but she is still just a-"
"Can we just call the vote now," Narsis cut Lybiota off. The girl's entry was a foregone conclusion. The Coldwater's could be quite aggressive, when they wanted something to happen. Especially if something could negatively effect their image at court. Such as, for example, the heiress to the family failing to achieve what every Coldwater for the last six thousand years has achieved.
For perspective, the last courtier who tried to bring down the Coldwaters, by questioning their honor and integrity before the whole court, was found dead within a day.
It was ruled an accident by the guards.
How a man can 'accidently' break his own legs with a warhammer before dragging himself half a mile out of the city to hang himself was not questioned by said authorities. The city guard had more important things to worry about that day it seemed; such as discovering how their coin purses suddenly became so heavy.
What would they do if their heir didn't go to the Academy?
They could never challenge any of the Lectors or the Headmaster openly, they had the direct patronage of the King himself. But they could make their lives difficult. Not counting what they could do to their relatives and loved ones.
Lybiota seemed to smile for the briefest of moments. She turned to the headmaster, "I agree with Narsis's suggestion."
"Very well then," Kernwood put the packet down, "Lectors, if you will."
"Pass," Lybiota was the first to respond.
"Pass," Narsis followed.
Ferenris and Merill looked at each other.
"Pass."
"Pass."
"A unanimous vote," the headmaster stamped Coldwater's packet, "Miss Coldwater will be joining our academy. It would also appear that our homes are quite safe for the near future." Kernwood gave a light hearted chuckle.
'Who could have seen that coming?' Narsis mused the result.
Kernwood picked up the next packet, "now then, on to Applicant Thirteen, Syllia Dawnguard."
Narsis perked up at the name.
"Recommended by Magister Firebrook," the old man made a face before looking over the next part. "Perfect score on the pre-entrance examination. Average score on the general examination. Perfect marks from her written examination. Perfect marks, again, on her meeting."
Something seemed off. No one gets a perfect score on any aspect of the exam. How does a child even get a "perfect" score?
"If I may," Merill reached out, taking the packet from Kernwood. She flipped through each page. Her eyes running over each line.
"It's simply not possible for anyone, let alone a child, to get a perfect score on any part of this exam," Lybiota spoke up.
"I haven't found any question not properly marked," Merill closed the packet. "Her handwriting is rough, but not the worst I have seen." She passed the packet along to Lybiota.
"What did she write about for her essay," Ferenris asked.
"The Guribashi-Stormwind War and an analysis on the interconnectivity between forms of magic."
"And?"
"And it was a nice, if brief, read," Merill remarked. "Her analysis on magic and its interaction is a bit overly simplistic. But it is still a good base to work off of. I'm tempted to use her diagram in my junior classes when we begin our lectures on magical sources next semester."
"Are we sure she didn't have any outside help?" Lybiota questioned, finishing the packet herself, she passed it to Narsis.
"If she did, it seemingly wasn't caught," Narsis responded as he fingered through the pages. Like the others had said, handwriting was atrocious, but the substance was sound.
Honestly, if the girl was able to somehow get all the answers to her questions, write in without being noticed, then somehow convince the professor that met her to give her a near perfect score on everything else, he'd allow her into Dath'Remar on that alone.
It was easy to forget that while other academies trained mages, Dath'Remar trains magisters. And magisters are not merely mages. They are the clerks who manage the various offices of state. They are the mayors, viceroys, and governors of the kingdom. They council the king in times of peace, and lead his armies in times of war. Outside of the King, Magisters are the sole authority in Quel'Thalas. Only the Farstriders are outside their purview; and even then it is because they take orders only from the King himself.
Magisters must be as political as they are academic in nature. A magister does not remain a magister for long if they do not sufficiently meet these two criteria.
He passed the packet onto Ferenris.
None could deny her practical skills. They all saw her performance against Coldwater. Dawnguard was clumsy. Had a limited training if her performance was any indication. Her spells were underpowered in many areas. Her teleporting was inaccurate. But she did beat a child who has trained the better part of their life. And then showed humility where others would demonstrate vainglory; catching the Coldwater girl and helping her to her seat.
The question of her written grades had only two plausible answers.
First, she cheated on her exams. Bribing, or somehow rigging, her way through the written portion; including her face to face meeting. Somehow managing what no other student in millennia has achieved, and only is getting caught because she was too good and the results were too perfect. In which case, Narsis would vote in favor of her to help train this talent into something useful.
Second, this is genuine and she is a genius beyond anything seen in the kingdom's history. In which case, the answer is still the same: accept her to help train her talents.
"What was this note here," Ferenris brought up. He flipped to a page and placed it in the center of the table.
"What note?" Merill questioned.
Narsis wondered that too, the page Ferenris brought up was blank- Oh, now he saw it.
Merill and Lybiota noticed it as well.
There were tell tale signs of magic being used to remove ink on the page. An alchemical solution. Drops smeared against the page to remove any trace of ink, while also applying a magical effect to make reconstructing what was written impossible by magical means.
"Ah that," Kernwood spoke up. "It was a mistake by one of the librarians. She thought she observed something wrong with Miss. Dawnguard. She told me about it soon after, and I told her not to worry. I applied the solution to wipe off the comments so as to not let them distract from her scores."
'But why make it nearly impossible to even notice there was a note and why use that solution in particular?' Narsis questioned. Naturally he didn't say it aloud.
It wasn't the fact that Kernwood erased a note that had him suspicious, just a couple of packets ago half a page was whited out by the headmaster due to "offensive drawings and inappropriate language" being written by an applicant frustrated by the difficulty of the exam.
But this solution was not a simple white out. This was used by clerks to destroy and dispose of official documents with sensitive information in such a way as to make inferring anything written prior impossible. Why use such powerful ink on a 'note' from a librarian?
If anyone else questioned this line of thought, they did not show or voice it.
"Well then, shall we call the vote?" Kernwood quipped.
"Pass," Merill spoke up first.
"Pass," Ferenris followed soon after.
"Fail," Lybiota broke from the rest. "I refuse to believe that this girl did not commit foul play."
'Of course, that's what it's called when you need an excuse to fail a student that made a fool out of the house giving generous donations to you?' Narsis snickered.
All eyes were on him.
"Pass," Narsis responded.
The headmaster smiled, "majority rules then, Miss Dawnguard shall be admitted into the Academy." He placed the packet in the accept pile before pulling out the next one.
First the girl see's through the illusions blocking out the royal booth. Then he learns she is the same girl who got near perfect scores on her exams. A note was blotted out by the Headmaster with ink used to destroy sensitive documents. Then mages of the Kirin Tor are interested in her. Narsis could tell when something was up. He would keep an eye on that one, Syllia Dawnguard. Seemed like she was involved, knowingly or otherwise, in something that involved many powerful people.
And the night dragged on, but thankfully, the wine kept flowing.
What else could a man ask for?
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My isn't politics a funny thing.
Next chapter may have a bit of a delay because I have FINALLY exhausted my backlog of chapters. Yes these 10 chapters were my backlog! New chapters should be coming out soon; but it'll probably be a few days.
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After five millennia of experience, it could be said that Lector Narsis was living the magister dream. He graduated from Dath'Remar with top honors. He achieved the rank of magister at age one hundred and fifty; the youngest to ever achieve the rank at that time. Was granted the title of Grand Magister by his Majesty, King Teldean Sunstrider. Served the kingdom at said post for a thousand years. Retired at the age of three thousand. Came out of retirement to help teach the first humans magic on the orders of King Anasterian. Then took up his current post, one of four Lectors at Dath'Remar five hundred years ago out of sheer boredom.
Now, he was to take part in observing the yearly practical exam.
He took a long sip from his glass. The sweet wine washed down his throat.
Oh yes, for the next few hours, he, the old bat Lybiota, the goody two shoes Merill, the straight-laced Ferenris, and old Headmaster Kernwood, would be appraising the skills of the final few children who made it this far into the exam.
He took another long sip, emptying the glass. Narsis raised the glass to signal a nearby servant for a refill.
The portal had just opened, and the crowd of children soon followed the proctor.
Many of them look so soft, too plump. Fattened up by a lifetime of ease and comfort. While enjoying comfort was not a crime of itself, it would be hypocritical of him seeing as he had a large mansion, numerous villas across the kingdom, and was not the picture of health himself. But he was rich, old, and powerful. Therefore, he could do whatever he wanted.
These children had yet to prove themselves, yet they walk about as if the world owes them something. They look at Narsis and his compatriots expecting to be applauded for merely existing.
A few children did stand out of the crowd.
He spotted the Emberbirth girl amongst the throngs of people, her white hair making her stand out. She stood tall and walked with conviction, no sign of the frailty or weakness he heard some at court whisper about. There was even a bit of fear in her eyes as she gazed across the stage provided to them. Good, being afraid means your not stupid enough to think you are invincible.
And, of course, the Coldwater heiress with her bright blue shoulder cape that all Coldwaters seemed predisposed to wear at all times. While she seemed to tick all of the negative traits he had seen in many of the other children, she differed in that she was powerful. Narsis refused to believe the Lord and Lady Coldwater would allow the family name to be insulted by poor showing from the house's heiress. Time would tell if her confidence was a warranted, or a flaw.
Out of all of them, there was one last child that caught his eye. Young girl. Blonde. Her robes were decent enough. She was terrible at hiding her expressions, eyes wide at the chamber's surroundings. To be fair, she wasn't the only one. But whereas the other children looked to the balcony where he and the other lectors were seated, she did not. No, her gaze shifted to the far end of the chamber. Head tilted to the side, as if trying to see something.
He had no doubt she was looking directly at the royal booth; obstructed from sight by enchantments and spell work.
Whether she could actually see the booth or if she merely noticed the enchantments he couldn't say. The spells were quite intricate. But they did not make the booth invisible, merely hid it from common sight.
No need to get the children nervous about who was watching them.
Speaking of children, he chuckled to himself. Lector Narsis pooled mana into his eyes to peer into the booth. Yes the royal booth was packed to the brim with such people.
And such individuals they were! All the choreography. All the set up. Hell, just listening to the damn roll call before they raised the illusion made him want to drink himself under the proverbial table.
His excellency, Lord so and so, master of the arcane and whatever magical talent he actually had. Following him was her ladyship, Magistrix something or other, mistress of some plot of land no one has ever heard of at the edge of the kingdom. After her was his lordship, Magister something something, master of something. He was sure it was something; if the length of the introduction was anything to go by.
Naris couldn't even bring himself to pretend he heard much after the first dozen or so.
And don't even get him started on that circus called seating!
The seating arrangements looked closer to a game of dancing chairs than a layout with any rational sense. All posturing. All about being so closer or so far away. This lord did not want to be seen sitting before his rival at court. Another lord and lady must be seated close to one another, but never more than a foot near each other. There were two families that hated one another, so the servants put them at opposing ends. Another set of families kept up the veneer of civility, but only if they are both seated equidistant to a third family they are both courting and have line of sight on one another at all times. Who knows what they would do if they lost sight for even a second!
Of course this is before they actually started talking!
The faux passes. The snide remarks. My great grandfather did this. My ancestor did that. My child is better than your child! Ughh. If he wanted to sit down for the better part of the morning and listen to parents preen about their children in passive aggressive jabs aimed at one another he'd just have an open house for his students' parents.
At the center of it all, of course, was his majesty, King Anasterian. Surrounded by only his closest courtiers and the royal guards. A single beacon of calm amidst the sea of ravenous vipers.
His majesty has observed every practical exam for the past one thousand years; ever since he allowed the Academy to host the exams in the depths of the royal palace itself. During that first exam, it was just his majesty, her majesty the queen, several close friends, and a handful of royal guards. They didn't even have an illusion to obstruct his majesty from view. Took ages for the exam to actually start, the kids were too nervous to do anything! Afraid they would embarrass themselves before the King. It took an uplifting speech from his majesty to get the exam underway.
Now? Now half the court attends. How times change. From a small gathering of friends, wanting to watch the future of the kingdom, to another battlefield that the court could bicker about.
He downed the last bits of wine his glass held. Noticing his glass empty, he raised it up for a refill. Honestly, Narsis felt embarrassed being in the same social strata as nobility. Oh if only the masses knew just how the rulership actually was! They would riot on principle.
Hell, he'd be glad to help light the first manse on fire!
As old Kernwood began his little introduction, Narsis focused on the three specs of blue amidst the sea of red and gold; foremost amongst them being his Highness, Prince Kael'thas, seated next to his father. Along with his guests from Dalaran, Arch Mage Krasus and another mage he didn't recognize.
This was the first time he had seen his highness in Silvermoon since the end of the Second War. Naturally he was not privy to if the prince had returned home before this. But Narsis was of the opinion that this was the first time in years the wayward prince had stepped foot in Quel'Thalas in its entirety.
And quite the bold return, he mused drinking more of his beloved ambrosia.
He regarded his highness's choice of clothing. Such nuisance in wearing the robes of Dalaran instead of his own royal robes. Why it almost seemed like he was trying to send his father, and the court, a message. But what could it be? The subtlety eluded him.
He chuckled as he drank, half hearing Kerwood finishing his address.
Though, knowing how infantile and sloth some of the nobility have become, maybe it is too subtle. Maybe his highness should be a bit more brazen. Perhaps hanging the Alliance banner above his seat? Or maybe wear a medallion bearing the crest of Lordaeron rather than the serrated sun of Silvermoon upon his person! To ensure the symbolism wasn't ignored or mistaken for something else.
Naris was jesting, of course. He knew, hell everyone knew, his highness was a staunch Internationalist. Which, of course, made him come to blows with his Isolationist father.
It was well known at court that the king and his highness were not on the best of terms as of late. The decision to leave the Alliance was supported by most of the court. Sadly for his majesty, the prince was not amongst them. Officially, the prince resigned from his post as Magister to focus his role as Arch Mage and a member of the Council of Six in full. It was mutual, the courtiers were told.
While Narsis didn't see the falling out in person, his confidants informed him that it was quite loud. Loud and physical.
Less the actions of a royal, and more the actions of a petulant child throwing a tantrum at not getting what they want.
Which of them was he thinking about again? He smiled, keeping the bark of laughter in his throat.
Old Kernwood finished his speech and the first bout began.
Narsis watched the children take their position. He didn't recognize the second name, but Emberbirth? Oh he knew that family well. Hell, he's had the past six generations in his lecture hall at one point in time. He heard that the girl, while beyond brilliant, was frail. Her robes hid it well, but he could tell she was small for her age.
Despite this, as the first of the white hot flames materialized, he knew the match was a foregone conclusion.
As the girl walked off stage, the tell tale sounds of quills scribbling echoed around him. Narisis didn't even know why they were making notes. The girl had passed. Maybe about the boy? He looked at the boy, still shaking as he was examined by the healers. If the boy had simply attempted a counter spell, Naris might have given him a moment of thought.
But as far as he was concerned, the boy had failed. The boy let fear paralyze himself.
Narsis spared a glance to the royal booth. He saw Lord Emberbirth quite exuberant at his sister's victory.
The next series of matches followed a similar trend. One child would overpower the other. Simple, if boring. The only exception to this pattern were the Greatstar twins; knocking each other out. The Lord Greatstar looked torn between embarrassed and enraged. Maybe he was just surprised? Who could say.
When the next applicants were called up, Naris noticed something quite unusual in the royal booth. One of the Prince's guests, the younger one, Sunreaver or Sunflare he couldn't remember, brought the prince's attention to the match. His highness motioned to the Coldwater heiress. The young man, the name is on the tip of his tongue, shook his head, pointing to the other girl.
He regarded the girl, quickly realizing that it was the same one from earlier. The one who noticed the royal booth were all the other children seemed obvious to it. What a coincidence.
He raised his glass for a refill once more. He could feel the wine being poured as the match started.
Both launched a flurry of spells at each other. Coldwater's frostbolt withstood the underpowered arcane spells launched by, he regarded the list for the other's name, Dawnguard. The girl then leapt to the ground and suffered repeated frostbolt hits as she tried to stand up.
A poor initial showing, he mused. Then again, the Coldwater girl is no better. He watched as the Coldwater girl began to go on a tangent about her family. For someone so small, her high pitched voice certainly carried.
He was prepared to write the Kirin Tor's interest in the girl off, but then things got interesting. The Dawnguard girl, on her feet again, renewed her assault. More arcane spells. But when Coldwater tried to counter, the orbs swung around the oncoming frostbolt and struck true. Or as true as a blow could be when met with an arcane barrier. After a series of more orbs, Dawnguard arced one above the arena, striking Coldwater in the back.
Ah, now he can see the interest in the girl.
Coldwater seemingly did not take this blow well. She began to conjure water and snap freeze it. Using the icicles as spears to skewer Dawnguard.
If Narsis had not been a mage, he might have been impressed by the display. But he knew better.
For all her apparent skill, all her gloating and impressing the importance of her family's legacy and her place as its heiress, she cannot conjure ice directly. She needed to first conjure water, then freeze it. While it had the same result as simply conjuring ice, it was more mana intensive. It also showed she was not as skilled with Frost magic as she was with Hydromancy.
The soft scribbling around him showed he was not the only one who reached that conclusion.
Most magical fights, ignoring outside interference or assistance, were decided within the first minute of being fought. One who lost momentum did not tend to recover it. With Dawngaurd's teleporting and rear assaults', the proverbial pendulum has swung.
If the duel continued as it was, with its current tempo, Dawnguard would be the victor from simply outlasting Coldwater. He see, and feel, the difference in mana pool's between the two; even from where he was sitting. Dawnguard was a brilliant hearth when compared to Coldwater's middling candle.
Then Coldwater did something beyond stupid. She used her frost magic to conjure a small blizzard to momentarily blind Dawnguard and then began to summon a water elemental. The girl was already nearing the limit of her mana pool, yet now was when she uses a mana intensive spell?
With Coldwater already showing signs of mana exhaustion before this excessive display of magic, and Dawnguard looking positively radiant if a bit roughed up, Narisis was confident with his assessment of their capabilities to call the match now. For goodness sake, Coldwater was coughing up a storm and looked ready to fall over dead.
All Dawnguard had to do was just last the next thirty or so seconds and wait for Coldwater to collapse under her own weight.
The elemental charged, the girl blew it apart.
It reformed, she blinked backwards.
It charged again, Dawnguard boiled it away with a cone of fire.
Quite a bright display. Coldwater tried to summon another elemental, but it was over. She could barely breathe let alone summon another elemental. The Proctor seemingly agreed with Narisis's opinion, as he called the match in Dawnguard's favor.
Looking over to the royal booth, he just caught a glimpse of a noble leaving the seating area in quite the hurry. Lord Coldwater perhaps? Other nobles and court officials seemingly whispered and talked amongst themselves; eyeing the girls in the arena. His Highness, Arch Mage Krasus, and Sun-somthing, talked amongst themselves. The young man was quite pleased with the results of the bout; along with his Highness. Krasus looked at the girl with an expression Narsis could not really explain. Surprise? Confusion? Worry? It was hard to tell with how well the man concealed his emotions.
Then Coldwater did as all children do, she threw a tantrum that she lost. The girl coughed and wheezed anger and spite. She even tried to summon an elemental again as she shook like a reed in the wind!
This had gone on long enough.
The Headmaster agreed. He was on his feet before Narsis even noticed.
"Miss Coldwater," Magic amplified the wizened elf's voice across the amphitheater. The girl tried to look up, but she failed. "Your objection has been noted. Please return to your seat. If you require a healer, please indicate such."
The girl realized it was over. Finally.
It was only after the girls had walked off the stage, making room for the next applicants, that Narsis realized he hadn't taken a single sip of wine the whole match.
Quite unusual, Narsis thought as he brought the glass to his lips.
--
"Failed."
"Failed"
"Failed."
"A unanimous vote then," papers shuffled across the table. "Mr. Silver-Wreath will not be admitted," a thundering stamp sealed the decision. stamped the document.
The room was spacious, yet the table they sat at was quite small. It was littered with scrolls and packets of paper arranged into two piles: the accepted pile, and the failed pile. A series of windows brought fresh light into the chamber. Crystals and gems floated about, providing more light if needed. Servants hovered around the table, holding trays of snacks and pitchers of wine.
'Boy has some potential as a mage,' Narsis mused to himself. 'But he will not achieve such a rank at the Academy.'
Following the matches, the Lectors and Headmaster had retreated to a chamber to discuss the results of the bouts. Less a strict criteria of right or wrong, and more an analysis of actions. A student could lose their match yet still be admitted, as in the case with the Greatstar twins. However, with how the process was going this year, losing the match was tantamount to failing.
They had been at it for hours. One by one, the professors went over the remaining applicants.
"Next up, Applicant Sixty-Nine, Miss Venara Coldwater," the headmaster leafed through the next packet of papers. "Recommended by Magister Heren Coldwater. Scored above average in the pre-examination, above average in the general written examination, positive marks from her meeting," he listed off the essentials of her scores. "Overall, a qualified student."
"Perhaps academically, but her personality leaves much to be desired," Lector Mirell noted. She was voicing what they all were thinking.
"She is just a child Mirell," Lector Lybiota countered. "Personality traits such as that can be worked on over the years."
Of course you would say that, Narsis rolled his eyes. 'After all, which family paid for your new country villa?'
"Such things should have been worked on at home already," Lector Ferenris challenged Lybiota, knowing just why the old bat was going easy on Coldwater. "We are an academy not a daycare," he was addressing the headmaster now. "We should not have to educate our charges on simple matters such as biting their tongues. This is something her parents should have already instilled in her."
"We are talking about the Coldwaters," Merill reminds them. The Lord and Lady Coldwater's were very powerful figures at court. Every party. Every ball. Every gala. The Coldwater's were in attendece. While this poltical activty allowed them to entrench themselves as a powerful duo at court, it was equally well know that the Lord and Lady had quite the 'ego' to themselves. Naris has no doubt that the behavior the Coldwater girl displayed was taught rather than simply observed. So long as the girl kept up with her studies, he doubted her parents would correct any behavioral trait that did not directly impact them at court.
She wasn't a daughter to them, she was a another thing to lord over their rivals.
"That may be, but she is still just a-"
"Can we just call the vote now," Narsis cut Lybiota off. The girl's entry was a foregone conclusion. The Coldwater's could be quite aggressive, when they wanted something to happen. Especially if something could negatively effect their image at court. Such as, for example, the heiress to the family failing to achieve what every Coldwater for the last six thousand years has achieved.
For perspective, the last courtier who tried to bring down the Coldwaters, by questioning their honor and integrity before the whole court, was found dead within a day.
It was ruled an accident by the guards.
How a man can 'accidently' break his own legs with a warhammer before dragging himself half a mile out of the city to hang himself was not questioned by said authorities. The city guard had more important things to worry about that day it seemed; such as discovering how their coin purses suddenly became so heavy.
What would they do if their heir didn't go to the Academy?
They could never challenge any of the Lectors or the Headmaster openly, they had the direct patronage of the King himself. But they could make their lives difficult. Not counting what they could do to their relatives and loved ones.
Lybiota seemed to smile for the briefest of moments. She turned to the headmaster, "I agree with Narsis's suggestion."
"Very well then," Kernwood put the packet down, "Lectors, if you will."
"Pass," Lybiota was the first to respond.
"Pass," Narsis followed.
Ferenris and Merill looked at each other.
"Pass."
"Pass."
"A unanimous vote," the headmaster stamped Coldwater's packet, "Miss Coldwater will be joining our academy. It would also appear that our homes are quite safe for the near future." Kernwood gave a light hearted chuckle.
'Who could have seen that coming?' Narsis mused the result.
Kernwood picked up the next packet, "now then, on to Applicant Thirteen, Syllia Dawnguard."
Narsis perked up at the name.
"Recommended by Magister Firebrook," the old man made a face before looking over the next part. "Perfect score on the pre-entrance examination. Average score on the general examination. Perfect marks from her written examination. Perfect marks, again, on her meeting."
Something seemed off. No one gets a perfect score on any aspect of the exam. How does a child even get a "perfect" score?
"If I may," Merill reached out, taking the packet from Kernwood. She flipped through each page. Her eyes running over each line.
"It's simply not possible for anyone, let alone a child, to get a perfect score on any part of this exam," Lybiota spoke up.
"I haven't found any question not properly marked," Merill closed the packet. "Her handwriting is rough, but not the worst I have seen." She passed the packet along to Lybiota.
"What did she write about for her essay," Ferenris asked.
"The Guribashi-Stormwind War and an analysis on the interconnectivity between forms of magic."
"And?"
"And it was a nice, if brief, read," Merill remarked. "Her analysis on magic and its interaction is a bit overly simplistic. But it is still a good base to work off of. I'm tempted to use her diagram in my junior classes when we begin our lectures on magical sources next semester."
"Are we sure she didn't have any outside help?" Lybiota questioned, finishing the packet herself, she passed it to Narsis.
"If she did, it seemingly wasn't caught," Narsis responded as he fingered through the pages. Like the others had said, handwriting was atrocious, but the substance was sound.
Honestly, if the girl was able to somehow get all the answers to her questions, write in without being noticed, then somehow convince the professor that met her to give her a near perfect score on everything else, he'd allow her into Dath'Remar on that alone.
It was easy to forget that while other academies trained mages, Dath'Remar trains magisters. And magisters are not merely mages. They are the clerks who manage the various offices of state. They are the mayors, viceroys, and governors of the kingdom. They council the king in times of peace, and lead his armies in times of war. Outside of the King, Magisters are the sole authority in Quel'Thalas. Only the Farstriders are outside their purview; and even then it is because they take orders only from the King himself.
Magisters must be as political as they are academic in nature. A magister does not remain a magister for long if they do not sufficiently meet these two criteria.
He passed the packet onto Ferenris.
None could deny her practical skills. They all saw her performance against Coldwater. Dawnguard was clumsy. Had a limited training if her performance was any indication. Her spells were underpowered in many areas. Her teleporting was inaccurate. But she did beat a child who has trained the better part of their life. And then showed humility where others would demonstrate vainglory; catching the Coldwater girl and helping her to her seat.
The question of her written grades had only two plausible answers.
First, she cheated on her exams. Bribing, or somehow rigging, her way through the written portion; including her face to face meeting. Somehow managing what no other student in millennia has achieved, and only is getting caught because she was too good and the results were too perfect. In which case, Narsis would vote in favor of her to help train this talent into something useful.
Second, this is genuine and she is a genius beyond anything seen in the kingdom's history. In which case, the answer is still the same: accept her to help train her talents.
"What was this note here," Ferenris brought up. He flipped to a page and placed it in the center of the table.
"What note?" Merill questioned.
Narsis wondered that too, the page Ferenris brought up was blank- Oh, now he saw it.
Merill and Lybiota noticed it as well.
There were tell tale signs of magic being used to remove ink on the page. An alchemical solution. Drops smeared against the page to remove any trace of ink, while also applying a magical effect to make reconstructing what was written impossible by magical means.
"Ah that," Kernwood spoke up. "It was a mistake by one of the librarians. She thought she observed something wrong with Miss. Dawnguard. She told me about it soon after, and I told her not to worry. I applied the solution to wipe off the comments so as to not let them distract from her scores."
'But why make it nearly impossible to even notice there was a note and why use that solution in particular?' Narsis questioned. Naturally he didn't say it aloud.
It wasn't the fact that Kernwood erased a note that had him suspicious, just a couple of packets ago half a page was whited out by the headmaster due to "offensive drawings and inappropriate language" being written by an applicant frustrated by the difficulty of the exam.
But this solution was not a simple white out. This was used by clerks to destroy and dispose of official documents with sensitive information in such a way as to make inferring anything written prior impossible. Why use such powerful ink on a 'note' from a librarian?
If anyone else questioned this line of thought, they did not show or voice it.
"Well then, shall we call the vote?" Kernwood quipped.
"Pass," Merill spoke up first.
"Pass," Ferenris followed soon after.
"Fail," Lybiota broke from the rest. "I refuse to believe that this girl did not commit foul play."
'Of course, that's what it's called when you need an excuse to fail a student that made a fool out of the house giving generous donations to you?' Narsis snickered.
All eyes were on him.
"Pass," Narsis responded.
The headmaster smiled, "majority rules then, Miss Dawnguard shall be admitted into the Academy." He placed the packet in the accept pile before pulling out the next one.
First the girl see's through the illusions blocking out the royal booth. Then he learns she is the same girl who got near perfect scores on her exams. A note was blotted out by the Headmaster with ink used to destroy sensitive documents. Then mages of the Kirin Tor are interested in her. Narsis could tell when something was up. He would keep an eye on that one, Syllia Dawnguard. Seemed like she was involved, knowingly or otherwise, in something that involved many powerful people.
And the night dragged on, but thankfully, the wine kept flowing.
What else could a man ask for?
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My isn't politics a funny thing.
Next chapter may have a bit of a delay because I have FINALLY exhausted my backlog of chapters. Yes these 10 chapters were my backlog! New chapters should be coming out soon; but it'll probably be a few days.
The Kirin Tor have her on their radar. My mouth waters as does my desire for her to go to magic Harvard.
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
It's less the Kirin Tor and more Krasus. Krasus is just the "mortal persona" name for a red dragon; and the prime consort of Alexstrasza (the leader of the Red Dragonflight).
So she's actually on someone's radar that is far more important than the Kirin Tor.
.... Well. Incoming power up. When the war comes, she's definitely be one of the big guns.
- Location
- alphen aan den rijn
so not only is she op powerful. she is very OP powerful, please nerf levels of OP!
well that puts things to light.
going to be fun times all around for dear sylla.
well that puts things to light.
going to be fun times all around for dear sylla.
- Location
- USA
not really, she is probably only around the level of Jaina for her age. Which is still up there in the top five percent but I don't think she is anything like a once in a generation prodigy in terms of mana amount.
As for the test scores, tests that are hard for children are remarkable easy when you are an adult.
Spectrum
Tell me a secret~
- Location
- Behind you~
Not only that, but she has authoritative information from an outside observer perspective so long as she remembers snippets of it.
What remains to be seen is whether she can keep performing well as lessons grow more complex or deal with more minutiae or whether she'll tail off. (Is she naturally smart as well or does she only have an initial knowledge and mentality lead)
- Location
- Australia
Oh, Krasus is a good sort, he'll give her a good chance. But hopefully he can't detect any Old God influence. Because that would be bad. Although, he may have seen something else in her. She was found in burnt out clearing right? Maybe she is a forcibly changed/kidnapped dragon welp? ... wouldn't be the first dragon in Silvermoon.
Teiwaz
Beloved of Adorjan.
- Location
- RUNNING AWAY
So when is Anasterian going to invite Kel'thas to a nice dinner then stare at him with one raised eyebrow and a smirk the entire time while poor Kel has not fucking clue what the old bastard is so smug about what did he miss? does he know about sweet jaina? is this about redhair? what is it? WHAT IS IT!?
Projecting my love for Tanya level misunderstandings here a wee bit but this scene amuses the fuck out of me.
Projecting my love for Tanya level misunderstandings here a wee bit but this scene amuses the fuck out of me.
- Location
- Dreary ol' London Town
Think you missed out "could" in the middle here
- Location
- The Star Kingdom of Manticore
I am hopeful we get to see the Lesser Magister's reaction. If anyone can be said to be suffering from success it's him. Not only did he get on Mama Elf's hitlist, he doesn't even have the student to protect him.
- Location
- USA
This is proven by the simple fact that she learned to make proto arcane missiles from a book in a month or so iirc. Arcane magic is all about order, and if you read some of the lore stories its rather insanely complicated.
For reference when a mage casts a spell they have to basically go through an entire calculus problem in their heads without a single mistake to make the spell work. They have to split their focus as mentioned with the multiple balls, and exert carefully applied forces to those things. All of this along with drawing up or outright inventing new formulas for new spells on the fly, basically to be a good mage in warcraft that is above the absolute bottom of the barrel you have to have at minimum above average intelligence and mental flexibility.
To be a great mage you require basically genius level intelligence, unless you are a Guardian and can just throw power into it without control and win that way. Its also worth noting that no one gets to Archmage status before the are in their elder decades. The only exceptions are people like Jaina and Kadgar both of whom are called out for being almost prodigies in terms of power and control.
SI is an adult+discipline with the developing brain and neural plasticity of a child.
She also has a substantial mana pool. (vs another child with life long training)
She's a genius by definition at this point. By the time she grows up, her brain will be well adapted for all things magic.
She's basically optimized as fuck with really good character creation rolls. That magic education she's going to get?
She's going to get alot more out of it than you can imagine.
And that's not even including her relationships with Coldwater and Emberbirth. That's another force multiplier.
Chapter 8 - A Day at the Academy - OLD
Midas_Man
One of the Brightest Stars
Next chapter ready to go!
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Pain was the only thing I felt in the black, cold, void.
Pain that ripped through my very being. Knives that danced across my skin, and picks that drove into my skull.
The drumming pressure on my eardrums reached a breaking point.
"So this is all it takes?"
I was vaguely aware of the voice. It sounded like a woman- no a girl's voice. Young if the pitch was right. Not in the sense that I could 'see' it, something was blocking my sight, but I didn't feel anything 'over' my eyes.
I was submerged ankle deep in freezing water. Aimlessly walking around trying to find something beyond the darkness.
Wait, how did I get here-
"It's kind of pathetic actually."
I whipped myself around in the direction of the voice. It was everywhere. All around me. Yet as I reached and clawed about, my hands met nothing.
And the pain...
"I expected more from us."
Us?
"I mean, think about it! A second chance! A fantasy world. A fantasy world that we KNOW about! Knowledge about very important things that will happen in the future! And what do we do with it? Nothing!"
"Fuck you!" I screamed, flailing at the open, cold air.
"No, I mean it. We have done Nothing! We've just floundered about for a good decade! Sitting on our hands, Waiting for Arthas's stop over at Silvermoon! "Oh yes please Mr. Death Knight. Please take my soul. It's not like we're doing anything with it!"
This girl was getting on my nerves; that cutesy voice of her's was really not helping my headache.
I tried to summon my magic to blast apart everything around me, but nothing happened.
"Yeah I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"Fuck you!" I tried to channel more mana. Nothing. Not in the sense my spell failed, but that there was no mana either within me or around me.
"Look, this was funny for the first twenty minutes or so," the voice went on. "But after that? Well, you know; definition of insanity and all that."
Annoyed, I turned my head to the last direction I heard her voice. "Look I don't know who you are, or what you want. But when I get out of here I'm going to-"
I never finished my threat, her laughter silenced my defiance.
She laughed and laughed. It sounded like she was having trouble breathing; hiccups soon followed. Then a big splash. She must have been laughing so hard that she lost her balance and fell into the shallow water.
"'Get out'," she seemed beside herself. Giggles and hiccups interrupted her speech. "The hell are you talking about? You've always been here! I've always been here! We've never been anywhere else!"
"I think I would remember a place like this and a crazy bitch like you."
Her giggled subsided at my statement. A short hum was followed by the sound of her standing up.
"You're the crazy one for being so stubborn," her voice was not condescending like earlier. It sounded almost caring. And right over my shoulder. As in, her head is right next to my ear. Come to think of it, she smelled like salt water...
"How am I stubborn for being pissed off at being trapped down in some cellar in half a foot of cold water." I spat back.
Again, she giggled, "a cellar? Oh goodness me; that's where you think we are? You know what, here." I felt a pair of cold hands cup my eye sockets.
"Let me help you see."
Her hands pulled away and I saw her.
It was a young girl in a black dress. An Elf. Pointy ears. Pitch black hair. Ghostly pale skin marked with strange red markings that circled her neck. But the thing that spooked me the most was her eyes.
The whites of her eyes were pitch black, and the eye color itself was blazing red. Like two hot coals that glowed with unnatural light.
I knew who this was.
Or, more accurately, I saw this face everyday when I looked into a mirror…..
The eldritch doppelganger smiled, "Now do you See?"
-----
-----
My whole body jerked awake. My breathing is haggard. I was shaking in a cold sweat. Taking some deep breaths, my eyes adjusted to the morning light streaming into my room.
'It's getting worse,' I solemnly noted.
Before, it was just the occasional dream. Then I stopped recalling said nightmares altogether for a time. The after effects of them were still felt. Cold sweat, heavy breathing, and a heartbeat so high that I feared it would burst from my chest being chief amongst them.
Then I started enduring waking hallucinations. The sky turns black at midday. Shadowy figures stalking me just out of sight. Weird gurgling noises when I was alone. The scariest one was when all the stars in the night sky turned into innumerable orange eyes.
Yeah, it was mind fucky.
But this….This was different. Somehow more horrifying. That oversized Cultulu rip off was wearing my face, and using my body, to torment me now.
I casually look up to find a cluster of blackened, dead, wood charms hanging on my headboard. From rosy red wooden charms when I went to sleep, to dead and blackened when I woke up. Oh yes, these dream charms did do something. But that something was the equivalent of trying to extinguish a volcano with a single bucket of water. In this case, a handful of buckets.
'I probably need more than just a simple charm for something like this, even a bunch of them tied together' I mused. I'll tell Cerra it worked, of course. But I think I'm going to have to start looking into my own wards against Old God fuckery.
I shivered at the recollection of 'its' face.
'Sooner rather than later.'
I knew that my mind was still my own for now. But how long would that last?
Out of my bed, I headed to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. As droplets ran down my face, tracing and curling around my facial features. I started looking at my own reflection. Something just clicked in my head.
A realization.
A realization of my own inhumanity.
Not in the "I'm a monster" sort of way. But in the genuine "I am no longer human" sense.
Yes, almost twelve years on and I only just realized I'm no longer human. How smart of me!
Joking aside, my realization is coming from the least likely source. A physical feature, but not one I should cause such a realization in me. Not my pointy ears. Nor my glowing blue eyes. Hell, it wasn't even the fact that I was a girl or that I could cast magic!
No. It was my eyebrows.
By human standards, they are far too long; jutting off the actual brow by the length of a fingernail.
By High Elven standards, as Mom assures me, they are just right for someone my age.
Objectively, this should be the least worrying part of my new physiology. The fact that I'm potentially going to live centuries, at least, or that if the Sunwell is destroyed in a near future I have the very real possibility of turning into a living equivalent of a raisin without an ample supply of mana. The raisin part assumes that I don't lose my mind before then because of this eldritch bullshit I have to deal with or from the mental degradation caused by a lack of mana.
No. Its the fucking eyebrows.
Sighing to myself, I used a towel to dry my face.
A nock rapped on the bathroom door.
"Hurry up sweetie!" It was Mom. "You need to eat something before heading off!"
"Okay," I responded.
Ah yes. School. I grimace.
When I first heard about a "magic school" in this new life, I admit that the first thing I thought of was Harry Potter's Hogwarts. A magical place, with magical people, teaching magical things. A place where the fantastical was mundane.
I remember when the acceptance letter came in mail I was over the moon! Books, uniforms, a training wand. It was almost too good to be true. Didn't even sleep that night. I was just so excited to learn something like magic.
I couldn't wait for it to start!
However, six months on, and now the 'honeymoon' period has worn off. I realized something, I was so focused on the "magic" part that I ignored the second, more crucial part: the "school" in magic school.
Now I "like" school as much as the next person. Some subjects more than others, but overall I consider myself quite the educated individual. Add in my knowledge from my first life, and I assumed that anything the Academy could throw at me I could easily finish with my "prodigal" intelligence.
How hard could it be for my graduate school mind?
Oh, how naïve I was.
---
"Careful Miss. Dawnguard! Concentrate!"
"I am sir!"
At first, I didn't know what to think when I heard that my Fire magic teacher wasn't actually a fire mage but a frost mage. Seemed counter productive to me. Why have a teacher who is teaching the literal, opposite of their chosen field?
Kind of obvious in hindsight.
He wasn't a fire mage instructor. He was a frost mage who was teaching students the basics of fire magic. The basics all mages have to learn at some point. If, or more likely when, something goes out of control he can put it out.
This particular class, Basics of Casting, was a hybrid indoor/outdoor class. Indoors, it was like any other class room at this place; gaudy, immaculate, and filled with way too many valuables. This is where the theoretical part of the class takes place.
Outside is where the real class begins. We have our own little area set up for 'practice'. The immediate area is warded so spells would not pass outside the area. It was also bereft of foliage of any kind; no trees, bushes, grass, etcetera. Instead, the area was made up predominantly of smooth red stones. The layout makes sense to me. Kids learning to bed the very fabric of reality to their wills will, inevitably, lead to something going wrong at least once. Don't want to burn or wreck all that fancy stuff inside now do we?
Currently, I was trying, and failing, to keep a ring of fire levitating around me. It was a thin icicle of yellow flames; the embers dancing just below my elbows. The sensation of keeping it up wasn't any different from what I was used to with arcane magic. It's oily, it's slippery, and you need to keep an eye on it at all times.
So why was I struggling?
I jerked in place as the fire licked a little too close to my elbow for comfort. That miniscule distraction was all that was needed to have the flames destabilize and whip about. The whipping flames only made me more nervous I would burn myself, causing me to lose even more control. And so on.
Just as my flames were about to slip out of my control, I felt a stream of foreign mana inject itself into my flames. The fire immediately calmed before vanishing.
The professor sighed, "why don't you rest for the rest of class Miss. Dawnguard."
I nodded, "yes sir." Walking off to the side, I noticed that everyone else had moved onto the final step of the practice.
I was still struggling at the starting line.
As I watched the students complete the last part, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I turned to see Elsia, a small book in hand that I recognized to be one of our reading assignments. She had been excused from doing the exercise on account of her being an already prodigal fire mage. So she spent her time across the way, treating the class more as an additional study hall for the duration of our work on basic fire magic.
She just stood there for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to say. Eyes glance between me and the other kids. "You burned yourself before."
"What," I was caught off guard by the statement.
"I was asking if you-"
"No, I heard you. Just came out of nowhere is all" I clarified. "But you're right though, I did burn myself. Was practicing a fireball, didn't shield my hand." I wiggled the offending limp.
She mulled over what I told her, "you keep flinching when the flames get too close to you. You're worried that the flames are going to burn you, that you start to pull too much attention away from maintaining the mana flow and worry about being burned. It only makes sense that you were burned at some point, and are afraid of it happening again."
"Shouldn't I be afraid of getting burned?" I knew I was sounding a bit defensive, but I was just frustrated at it all.
Eslia didn't seem to take offense. "You do remember that our robes are enchanted to resist most basic spells, including open flames, correct?"
I didn't say anything, merely nodding; ashamed that I had been forgetting.
"You should always be concerned about getting burned," she continued. "But you need to be aware enough that the robes are enchanted to never let you get burned."
"But," I searched for the right words. "No one else is having any issues," I gestured to the other students. The flames were whipping around them. Floating about. Circling. None of them seemed to have any fear about them.
"That's because they don't realize how dangerous fire is."
I shot Elsia a look, "they don't?"
"Correct," she nodded pointing to them. "See how even when the flames touch their robes they don't show a hint of fear?"
"Yeah," Now that she mentioned it. They didn't seem all that concerned about the fire touching their robes, or even getting close to their faces.
"That means they don't understand what fire can do to them."
What? "But you were just saying-"
"That the robes are enchanted, yes. But their attitude with fire shows how they don't really understand how badly fire can hurt." Looking back to me, she pulled the collar of her robe done, exposing her collar bone. "My first burn happened right here; embers jumped out of my fire and seared through my clothing."
"First- Wait, you don't wear fireproof stuff when training?"
She shook her head solemnly. "Of course. But I was playing around in my bedroom at the time. And I was six. It was my first time trying the spell unsupervised. Luckily nothing caught fire that time."
Oh boy. "That time?"
She gave me a sheepish smile. She pulled the sleeve of her robe up, showing me her bare arm. "Second time happened when I was eight. I put too much heat into a fire spell that blew a gust of hot air at me. Raised my arms up to cover my face. The hot air blew my sleeve up enough for the fire to burn my whole arm."
Before I could respond, she tapped her bare knuckles.
"My most recent burn was here; a week before the exams to specific. I shielded my hand properly, but the flames licked between my fingers. Everything healed alright, but my hand twitched for the rest of the day."
"You need to stop playing around with fire," I mumbled.
She looked me in the eye, "each mistake I make, each burn I get, makes me all the more aware of what to do and, more importantly, what not to do. How far can I push myself, and where do I need to draw a line."
I didn't know what to say. What does someone say to that?
"I know everyone learns differently," she began. "What works for me might not work for you."
"But.." I led her on.
"But," she continued. "Just be aware of your situation: you're wearing a fireproof robe, you're close to a frost mage, and no matter what burn you might receive the Academy's healers can fix nearly any reasonable injury you might sustain here."
I get what she's trying to do. A good old pep talk. "You can do it!" "I believe in you!" "Don't give up!" Objectively speaking she's right. The Academy is probably the safest place to learn fire magic.
That being said; saying if you get burned, don't worry, there are healers on standby is not really all that reassuring to me.
My expression must have been as clear as day, since she gave me another sheepish smile, "I'm...I'm not very good at this am I?"
"It's the thought that counts," I ignored the implication of the question.
"Is it really?" she questioned.
Before I could answer her, I heard the professor call us over, "Dawnguard! Emberbirth! We're going back in!"
"Yes sir!" I called back. I turned back to Elsia, giving her a quick hug "But thanks. I mean it. I can work through this. But it'll just take me some time."
She blinked like an owl from my short embrace, "I could-" she cleared her throat. "I mean, I could show you a few tricks I learned to help you get comfortable around fire."
Actually, that probably would be a really good thing. Prodigal pyromancer helping out middling fire starter.
I beamed a smile at her, "sure!"
Thinking back, it was probably a good thing the professor called the class back in; it looked like the heat of the summer day was starting to get to Elsia. Her face was getting a little red. Today did seem a bit warm to be honest; even I was starting to feel the heat myself. Though, it's probably wrong of me to poke fun at the fire mage who is uncomfortable under the hot sun. Being proficient at fire magic has nothing to do with tolerance for heat, just ability to use fire.
I hope she drinks some cool water when we get back in.
---
Following 'Basics of Casting' was a study hall.
I was secluded in a small alcove of the elaborate library, sitting in a comfy sofa chair along a bright red wooden desk with parchment and writing utensils laid out. What I groaned into my readings.
Yes, readings. Plural. Each professor assigned readings that needed to be done within a certain amount of time. Nothing unusual for anyone that goes to school. The catch is the reading material itself.
Twenty pages of "Mystical Analytics for Beginners". An incredibly dry text detailing the basics of mana regulation, sealing, and challenging from a theoretical perspective.
Ten pages from "Madam Teri's Grimoire: Volume 1". This one is basically an old Lady complaining about the youth and their lack of drive for one hundred and twenty pages. The current chapter is on how lazy they are.
Six pages from "Alchemy: a Primer". A somewhat interesting book about alchemy.
And finally, another ten pages from "The Meditations of Grand Magister Orak". From what I read so far, this guy is basically High Elf Marcus Aurelius'; a philosopher of sorts who wrote a book on how to be a ruler.
With exception to "The Meditations", each was dry to the bone. Getting through them was a slog.
Honestly, if it was just the books, I would be fine. I've been getting by so far by just skimming some of the historical stuff and filling in the blanks based on what I hear other people say.
The problem is the writing assignments that come along with the readings.
Now, I was used to having a lot of reading and writing from my first life. I'd like to think I was really good at it. One case I remember quite well, for the worst reasons, was working on a twenty four page essay on the Flensburg Government for my graduate degree in Political Science. A paper meant to be worked on over the course of two months was squished into a period of two weeks. I asked my professor at the time why she pushed it up so much.
The answer was, essentially, because "fuck you".
Ughh. Just remembering that makes my fingers hurt.
Now though? Now I have to write a short summary of what was read for each reading. Not that big a deal objectively speaking. Two, maybe three, paragraphs in length and I'm good. Not even a whole page. Maybe three quarters at most.
So what was my problem?
Well...
"That's wrong," Coldwater snapped at me, snatching my paper from me and began to scribble corrections on it.
Ah yes, Venara Coldwater. My 'study partner'. I feel the word 'acquaintance' is a bit too distant to refer to our relationship. But I certainly wouldn't call her a friend. She's abrasive and prickly at the best of times. Carries herself as if every person she passes should thank her for the honor of being in her presence for even a moment. A staunch classist if her comments on the various staff is anything to go by. And, to top it all off, she is one of the most proud and spiteful people I have ever met.
On the first day of classes, a boy tripped her along the walkways outside; right in front of the main gate. I'm not sure if it was intentional or not because I didn't see it, but it doesn't really matter in hindsight. Her response to him? Yell at him? Threatened to tattle on him? Of course not!
Her response was to blast him with a stream of conjured water and snap freeze it so he was stuck on the ground. Such a 'measured' response. And of course nothing happened to her because of it.
How do I know that last bit? Because she told me about when she sat down next to me the next day.
Yes. The girl who is so aggressive that she thinks freezing a kid who may or may not have tripped her is a proportional response, decided to sit next to me in every class we have together; the kid who beat her in an actual fight.
The only warning I had the first day was her backpack slamming down next to me. She had this scowl on her face as she took the desk next to mine. I genuinely thought she was going to cause a scene. But she just starts talking; more venting than anything else to be honest.
Since then, she's stuck to me like glue. Every class we have, she darts over to where I am sitting. Every lunch hour, she zeroes in wherever I am. And study hall? Well...
Across from me, I heard her mutter to herself. Scribbling fiercely on my paper, occasionally shooting me a look before looking back down. All the while muttering to herself. When she was satisfied with her word, she slid it back to me, "Orak was the third Grand Magister, not the thirtieth."
Grumbling, I looked at her correction, my eyes rolling at her cutesy writing style, "that's what I wrote".
"Really?" Coldwater smiled, leaning across the desk, her hands supporting her head, "a child has cleaner writing than you."
It's not my fault elves are stuck in some medieval stasis and have never invented a pencil in their thousands of years of civilization!
I hate quills! They're brittle; I go through about three or four a day. Ink gets everywhere. Every time I scribble in a certain way, there's the chance of me ripping the parchment. And the way I had to hold it made my handwriting look like a child just learning how to write for the first time.
For a so called 'advanced' society, they seemingly have no concept of a fucking pen.
Just give me a pencil for God's sake!
"Look I have a hard time writing okay," I countered.
All she did was shake her head and give an exaggerated sigh, "standards here have obviously slipped in recent years if something like this was considered acceptable."
I frowned, "you know you come off as arrogant right?"
She huffed, "Is it wrong for me to be proud of my own intelligence?"
I groaned in frustration. It seems like she doesn't even like me. So why was she constantly following me around if that is the case! Was this some kind of unspoken nobility thing? I defeat her so she has to put up with me. Hell, I've seen her utterly ignore the very existence of some people for far less sass then I give her! Like not using her name with enough respect. Honestly, what the hell does that even mean?
If she dislikes me, then I ask again, why does she follow me around?
"You're one to talk, Venara," I said softly; but importantly not in Thalessian.
Coldwater cocked her head and frowned; eyes wide as an owl's. "What was that?"
I hummed, "what was what?"
"What did you just say?" she demanded.
"Oh that," I looked up. "I was just practicing my Common. I'm very proud of my skill in it."
Her expression soured
Yes, Verena Coldwater, the self proclaimed greatest mage of our generation, whose knowledge of the arcane is second to none, is horrible at foreign language. She could barely speak Common, let alone write in it! And when the professor did force her to speak, it was broken, harsh, with sounds so overemphasized that her speech had all the melody of nails being dragged on a chalkboard to me.
Maybe I was being a bit harsh. Technically speaking, I am a 'native' Common speaker; since Common is literally the same as English. Despite immersing myself in both reading and writing Thalessian for the past years, I could still speak and write in perfect English. Got applauded for it too! Our foreign language professor says I have the best grasp of Common that he has seen in over five hundred years.
Actually, it's ironic. In my first life, I was terrible at other languages. Only knew English. Now, I'm a language 'prodigy'.
She took my jab with all the grace I expected of her.
"Hey! It's not my fault that humans have a stupid language! They sound like cavemen with all the grunting and moaning! Don't even get me started on the writing!" Oh Coldwater, I think you've already started. Everyone in the local area is now shooting glances at her. "I can barely read that birdscribble they call the written word! I-"
She jumped a bit as a librarian shushed her quite loudly. Coldwater sunk into her seat, a flash of embarrassment clear on her face as she became all too aware of how many eyes were now on her.
We sat for a minute in silence. I returned to my writings.
"Honestly," she started up again, looking around to see if she was still being watched. Thankfully minding her tone this time, "reading it is almost as bad as reading your handwriting."
I won't tell her that I take that as a compliment.
---
"You have all made considerable progress these past six months," the elderly looking man told us from his podium. This was a break from our regular schedule. Usually, we had Enchanting class after lunch but instead of Professor Lightlens, this older guy came in; one Lector Naris. Given the opulence of his robes, and how much jewelry he was wearing, it was obvious he was one of the 'big wigs' of the Academy.
"But now that you are acclimated to the Academy, it is time for you to 'spread your wings'," he chuckled to himself at a joke only he knew. "While the Academy can teach you much, some things are better taught outside our walls." From his podium, he picked up a packet of papers. He jostled the papers before us, "one month ago, the Academy sent out word that we were looking for upstanding individuals of the proper station who were willing to take our new students on as apprentices for the immediate future."
Oh, that.
Firebrook told me about this. This was basically an internship program in the simplest terms. Basically, the Academy looks around for people to take on a student part time. It gives kids a bit of an outside experience. It lets them see how the world 'actually' works. Some hands on, real world, applications of intelligence and magic. It can even help you set up personal connections to people for use in the future. A foot in the door, so to say, for future career options.
Firebrook mentioned he got the memo about this and put his name forward to be my mentor. He also noted that as a relative unknown, he'd probably not have any issue taking me on as his apprentice.
"And so they have responded," the Lector continued. "After providing some amount of information on each of you, you have each been chosen by name by at least one, or more, individuals. Out of these numbers, have chosen the individual we believe is best suited for the role of mentorship. Barring any unfortunate situations," he let the words hang in the air, " you will be apprenticed under them for the duration of your time at the Academy."
An energy of excitement filled the room.
"This does not mean you may slack on your work," he quickly added. "You must learn to balance what your mentor wishes and what the Academy expects of you. Failure to do so can potentially impact your future. Now then," he pulled a single sheet out of order and shuffled it around. Then straightened out the papers against his lectern, "when I call your name, you will come up and I will hand you all the information you will need for your first meeting with your mentor. Which will happen Today."
That got some whispers going on.
Ignoring them, he ran off the names of my class. One by one, the students went up, he had a short word with them, handed them the paper, and they went back to their seats.
I honestly couldn't tell if he was going in alphabetic order or not. Because the names went down as, first Allbright, then Brightstone, then Coldwater, then Emberbirth, then both Greatstars. If he was going athletically, then completely skipped me. By the time he reached Starlight, everyone but myself had gone up.
This was weird.
One paper left, he looked up to the class, "if you have received your instructions already, you are free to go. Dawnguard," he addressed me directly, waving me over. "A moment."
I gave Elsia a look, she nodded and proceeded out with the others. Coldwater lingered a bit, her eyes looking between the Lector and myself, before leaving as well.
Alone, I approached the podium.
"Is something wrong sir," I asked.
The Lector pinched the ridge of his nose, "not from anything you have done, I can assure you." He pulled up the last paper he had, "I suppose you have no idea who this is?"
"It's probably not who I'm thinking it is," I sheepishly responded.
He sighed, "unless you're thinking of someone with ties to the royal family, then no."
The Royal Family! A lot of warning sirens went off in my head.
"I can tell by that expression that you are as lost as we are," Naris began. "The day we released the basic information of yourself and fellow classmates for mentorship, a letter arrived in the post box. Mere hours after we released the information. And said envelope the letter came in was stamped with the Royal Seal."
He waited for me to digest just how big of a thing this is before continuing on. Someone, or someone's, had a particular interest in me.
"In the letter, we were told, in no uncertain terms, that this woman," he tapped the paper, "was to be your mentor."
"Who sent it?" I was genuinely confused. Why would anyone even pay attention to me, let alone know about me?
"Someone who cannot legally be denied in any circumstance within the kingdom," he told me grimly.
Wait. Cannot legally be denied? In an absolute monarchy, only one person has that amount of power. But that mean that would imply that the sender was the-
"I kept you behind to see if you had any indication about all of this," Narsis went on. "But your confusion only raises further questions. I have no idea how you have attracted such attention Dawnguard, but be careful. Having attention is not always a good thing. Remember this one thing if nothing else is retained over the course of your studies. It may seem trivial, but it is by far the most important thing you may ever learn here."
I grimaced at the meaning, and the all too real attention I am worrying about, "I know."
He handed me the paper, folded so I could see what was written on it. Then, he ushered me out.
Outside, I saw both Elsia and, surprisingly, Coldwater waiting down the hall. They looked like they were ignoring the other, but perked up then they saw me.
As I walked to them, I unfolded the paper and scanned it up and down. All that I saw as a single address, somewhere just outside the city limits, and a single name.
Siristra Everflight.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And once again, Firebrook gets apprentice-blocked.
And yes, Coldwater's tsundere fields are at maximum! But it's not like she likes Syllia or anything....
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pain was the only thing I felt in the black, cold, void.
Pain that ripped through my very being. Knives that danced across my skin, and picks that drove into my skull.
The drumming pressure on my eardrums reached a breaking point.
"So this is all it takes?"
I was vaguely aware of the voice. It sounded like a woman- no a girl's voice. Young if the pitch was right. Not in the sense that I could 'see' it, something was blocking my sight, but I didn't feel anything 'over' my eyes.
I was submerged ankle deep in freezing water. Aimlessly walking around trying to find something beyond the darkness.
Wait, how did I get here-
"It's kind of pathetic actually."
I whipped myself around in the direction of the voice. It was everywhere. All around me. Yet as I reached and clawed about, my hands met nothing.
And the pain...
"I expected more from us."
Us?
"I mean, think about it! A second chance! A fantasy world. A fantasy world that we KNOW about! Knowledge about very important things that will happen in the future! And what do we do with it? Nothing!"
"Fuck you!" I screamed, flailing at the open, cold air.
"No, I mean it. We have done Nothing! We've just floundered about for a good decade! Sitting on our hands, Waiting for Arthas's stop over at Silvermoon! "Oh yes please Mr. Death Knight. Please take my soul. It's not like we're doing anything with it!"
This girl was getting on my nerves; that cutesy voice of her's was really not helping my headache.
I tried to summon my magic to blast apart everything around me, but nothing happened.
"Yeah I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"Fuck you!" I tried to channel more mana. Nothing. Not in the sense my spell failed, but that there was no mana either within me or around me.
"Look, this was funny for the first twenty minutes or so," the voice went on. "But after that? Well, you know; definition of insanity and all that."
Annoyed, I turned my head to the last direction I heard her voice. "Look I don't know who you are, or what you want. But when I get out of here I'm going to-"
I never finished my threat, her laughter silenced my defiance.
She laughed and laughed. It sounded like she was having trouble breathing; hiccups soon followed. Then a big splash. She must have been laughing so hard that she lost her balance and fell into the shallow water.
"'Get out'," she seemed beside herself. Giggles and hiccups interrupted her speech. "The hell are you talking about? You've always been here! I've always been here! We've never been anywhere else!"
"I think I would remember a place like this and a crazy bitch like you."
Her giggled subsided at my statement. A short hum was followed by the sound of her standing up.
"You're the crazy one for being so stubborn," her voice was not condescending like earlier. It sounded almost caring. And right over my shoulder. As in, her head is right next to my ear. Come to think of it, she smelled like salt water...
"How am I stubborn for being pissed off at being trapped down in some cellar in half a foot of cold water." I spat back.
Again, she giggled, "a cellar? Oh goodness me; that's where you think we are? You know what, here." I felt a pair of cold hands cup my eye sockets.
"Let me help you see."
Her hands pulled away and I saw her.
It was a young girl in a black dress. An Elf. Pointy ears. Pitch black hair. Ghostly pale skin marked with strange red markings that circled her neck. But the thing that spooked me the most was her eyes.
The whites of her eyes were pitch black, and the eye color itself was blazing red. Like two hot coals that glowed with unnatural light.
I knew who this was.
Or, more accurately, I saw this face everyday when I looked into a mirror…..
The eldritch doppelganger smiled, "Now do you See?"
-----
-----
My whole body jerked awake. My breathing is haggard. I was shaking in a cold sweat. Taking some deep breaths, my eyes adjusted to the morning light streaming into my room.
'It's getting worse,' I solemnly noted.
Before, it was just the occasional dream. Then I stopped recalling said nightmares altogether for a time. The after effects of them were still felt. Cold sweat, heavy breathing, and a heartbeat so high that I feared it would burst from my chest being chief amongst them.
Then I started enduring waking hallucinations. The sky turns black at midday. Shadowy figures stalking me just out of sight. Weird gurgling noises when I was alone. The scariest one was when all the stars in the night sky turned into innumerable orange eyes.
Yeah, it was mind fucky.
But this….This was different. Somehow more horrifying. That oversized Cultulu rip off was wearing my face, and using my body, to torment me now.
I casually look up to find a cluster of blackened, dead, wood charms hanging on my headboard. From rosy red wooden charms when I went to sleep, to dead and blackened when I woke up. Oh yes, these dream charms did do something. But that something was the equivalent of trying to extinguish a volcano with a single bucket of water. In this case, a handful of buckets.
'I probably need more than just a simple charm for something like this, even a bunch of them tied together' I mused. I'll tell Cerra it worked, of course. But I think I'm going to have to start looking into my own wards against Old God fuckery.
I shivered at the recollection of 'its' face.
'Sooner rather than later.'
I knew that my mind was still my own for now. But how long would that last?
Out of my bed, I headed to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. As droplets ran down my face, tracing and curling around my facial features. I started looking at my own reflection. Something just clicked in my head.
A realization.
A realization of my own inhumanity.
Not in the "I'm a monster" sort of way. But in the genuine "I am no longer human" sense.
Yes, almost twelve years on and I only just realized I'm no longer human. How smart of me!
Joking aside, my realization is coming from the least likely source. A physical feature, but not one I should cause such a realization in me. Not my pointy ears. Nor my glowing blue eyes. Hell, it wasn't even the fact that I was a girl or that I could cast magic!
No. It was my eyebrows.
By human standards, they are far too long; jutting off the actual brow by the length of a fingernail.
By High Elven standards, as Mom assures me, they are just right for someone my age.
Objectively, this should be the least worrying part of my new physiology. The fact that I'm potentially going to live centuries, at least, or that if the Sunwell is destroyed in a near future I have the very real possibility of turning into a living equivalent of a raisin without an ample supply of mana. The raisin part assumes that I don't lose my mind before then because of this eldritch bullshit I have to deal with or from the mental degradation caused by a lack of mana.
No. Its the fucking eyebrows.
Sighing to myself, I used a towel to dry my face.
A nock rapped on the bathroom door.
"Hurry up sweetie!" It was Mom. "You need to eat something before heading off!"
"Okay," I responded.
Ah yes. School. I grimace.
When I first heard about a "magic school" in this new life, I admit that the first thing I thought of was Harry Potter's Hogwarts. A magical place, with magical people, teaching magical things. A place where the fantastical was mundane.
I remember when the acceptance letter came in mail I was over the moon! Books, uniforms, a training wand. It was almost too good to be true. Didn't even sleep that night. I was just so excited to learn something like magic.
I couldn't wait for it to start!
However, six months on, and now the 'honeymoon' period has worn off. I realized something, I was so focused on the "magic" part that I ignored the second, more crucial part: the "school" in magic school.
Now I "like" school as much as the next person. Some subjects more than others, but overall I consider myself quite the educated individual. Add in my knowledge from my first life, and I assumed that anything the Academy could throw at me I could easily finish with my "prodigal" intelligence.
How hard could it be for my graduate school mind?
Oh, how naïve I was.
---
"Careful Miss. Dawnguard! Concentrate!"
"I am sir!"
At first, I didn't know what to think when I heard that my Fire magic teacher wasn't actually a fire mage but a frost mage. Seemed counter productive to me. Why have a teacher who is teaching the literal, opposite of their chosen field?
Kind of obvious in hindsight.
He wasn't a fire mage instructor. He was a frost mage who was teaching students the basics of fire magic. The basics all mages have to learn at some point. If, or more likely when, something goes out of control he can put it out.
This particular class, Basics of Casting, was a hybrid indoor/outdoor class. Indoors, it was like any other class room at this place; gaudy, immaculate, and filled with way too many valuables. This is where the theoretical part of the class takes place.
Outside is where the real class begins. We have our own little area set up for 'practice'. The immediate area is warded so spells would not pass outside the area. It was also bereft of foliage of any kind; no trees, bushes, grass, etcetera. Instead, the area was made up predominantly of smooth red stones. The layout makes sense to me. Kids learning to bed the very fabric of reality to their wills will, inevitably, lead to something going wrong at least once. Don't want to burn or wreck all that fancy stuff inside now do we?
Currently, I was trying, and failing, to keep a ring of fire levitating around me. It was a thin icicle of yellow flames; the embers dancing just below my elbows. The sensation of keeping it up wasn't any different from what I was used to with arcane magic. It's oily, it's slippery, and you need to keep an eye on it at all times.
So why was I struggling?
I jerked in place as the fire licked a little too close to my elbow for comfort. That miniscule distraction was all that was needed to have the flames destabilize and whip about. The whipping flames only made me more nervous I would burn myself, causing me to lose even more control. And so on.
Just as my flames were about to slip out of my control, I felt a stream of foreign mana inject itself into my flames. The fire immediately calmed before vanishing.
The professor sighed, "why don't you rest for the rest of class Miss. Dawnguard."
I nodded, "yes sir." Walking off to the side, I noticed that everyone else had moved onto the final step of the practice.
I was still struggling at the starting line.
As I watched the students complete the last part, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I turned to see Elsia, a small book in hand that I recognized to be one of our reading assignments. She had been excused from doing the exercise on account of her being an already prodigal fire mage. So she spent her time across the way, treating the class more as an additional study hall for the duration of our work on basic fire magic.
She just stood there for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to say. Eyes glance between me and the other kids. "You burned yourself before."
"What," I was caught off guard by the statement.
"I was asking if you-"
"No, I heard you. Just came out of nowhere is all" I clarified. "But you're right though, I did burn myself. Was practicing a fireball, didn't shield my hand." I wiggled the offending limp.
She mulled over what I told her, "you keep flinching when the flames get too close to you. You're worried that the flames are going to burn you, that you start to pull too much attention away from maintaining the mana flow and worry about being burned. It only makes sense that you were burned at some point, and are afraid of it happening again."
"Shouldn't I be afraid of getting burned?" I knew I was sounding a bit defensive, but I was just frustrated at it all.
Eslia didn't seem to take offense. "You do remember that our robes are enchanted to resist most basic spells, including open flames, correct?"
I didn't say anything, merely nodding; ashamed that I had been forgetting.
"You should always be concerned about getting burned," she continued. "But you need to be aware enough that the robes are enchanted to never let you get burned."
"But," I searched for the right words. "No one else is having any issues," I gestured to the other students. The flames were whipping around them. Floating about. Circling. None of them seemed to have any fear about them.
"That's because they don't realize how dangerous fire is."
I shot Elsia a look, "they don't?"
"Correct," she nodded pointing to them. "See how even when the flames touch their robes they don't show a hint of fear?"
"Yeah," Now that she mentioned it. They didn't seem all that concerned about the fire touching their robes, or even getting close to their faces.
"That means they don't understand what fire can do to them."
What? "But you were just saying-"
"That the robes are enchanted, yes. But their attitude with fire shows how they don't really understand how badly fire can hurt." Looking back to me, she pulled the collar of her robe done, exposing her collar bone. "My first burn happened right here; embers jumped out of my fire and seared through my clothing."
"First- Wait, you don't wear fireproof stuff when training?"
She shook her head solemnly. "Of course. But I was playing around in my bedroom at the time. And I was six. It was my first time trying the spell unsupervised. Luckily nothing caught fire that time."
Oh boy. "That time?"
She gave me a sheepish smile. She pulled the sleeve of her robe up, showing me her bare arm. "Second time happened when I was eight. I put too much heat into a fire spell that blew a gust of hot air at me. Raised my arms up to cover my face. The hot air blew my sleeve up enough for the fire to burn my whole arm."
Before I could respond, she tapped her bare knuckles.
"My most recent burn was here; a week before the exams to specific. I shielded my hand properly, but the flames licked between my fingers. Everything healed alright, but my hand twitched for the rest of the day."
"You need to stop playing around with fire," I mumbled.
She looked me in the eye, "each mistake I make, each burn I get, makes me all the more aware of what to do and, more importantly, what not to do. How far can I push myself, and where do I need to draw a line."
I didn't know what to say. What does someone say to that?
"I know everyone learns differently," she began. "What works for me might not work for you."
"But.." I led her on.
"But," she continued. "Just be aware of your situation: you're wearing a fireproof robe, you're close to a frost mage, and no matter what burn you might receive the Academy's healers can fix nearly any reasonable injury you might sustain here."
I get what she's trying to do. A good old pep talk. "You can do it!" "I believe in you!" "Don't give up!" Objectively speaking she's right. The Academy is probably the safest place to learn fire magic.
That being said; saying if you get burned, don't worry, there are healers on standby is not really all that reassuring to me.
My expression must have been as clear as day, since she gave me another sheepish smile, "I'm...I'm not very good at this am I?"
"It's the thought that counts," I ignored the implication of the question.
"Is it really?" she questioned.
Before I could answer her, I heard the professor call us over, "Dawnguard! Emberbirth! We're going back in!"
"Yes sir!" I called back. I turned back to Elsia, giving her a quick hug "But thanks. I mean it. I can work through this. But it'll just take me some time."
She blinked like an owl from my short embrace, "I could-" she cleared her throat. "I mean, I could show you a few tricks I learned to help you get comfortable around fire."
Actually, that probably would be a really good thing. Prodigal pyromancer helping out middling fire starter.
I beamed a smile at her, "sure!"
Thinking back, it was probably a good thing the professor called the class back in; it looked like the heat of the summer day was starting to get to Elsia. Her face was getting a little red. Today did seem a bit warm to be honest; even I was starting to feel the heat myself. Though, it's probably wrong of me to poke fun at the fire mage who is uncomfortable under the hot sun. Being proficient at fire magic has nothing to do with tolerance for heat, just ability to use fire.
I hope she drinks some cool water when we get back in.
---
Following 'Basics of Casting' was a study hall.
I was secluded in a small alcove of the elaborate library, sitting in a comfy sofa chair along a bright red wooden desk with parchment and writing utensils laid out. What I groaned into my readings.
Yes, readings. Plural. Each professor assigned readings that needed to be done within a certain amount of time. Nothing unusual for anyone that goes to school. The catch is the reading material itself.
Twenty pages of "Mystical Analytics for Beginners". An incredibly dry text detailing the basics of mana regulation, sealing, and challenging from a theoretical perspective.
Ten pages from "Madam Teri's Grimoire: Volume 1". This one is basically an old Lady complaining about the youth and their lack of drive for one hundred and twenty pages. The current chapter is on how lazy they are.
Six pages from "Alchemy: a Primer". A somewhat interesting book about alchemy.
And finally, another ten pages from "The Meditations of Grand Magister Orak". From what I read so far, this guy is basically High Elf Marcus Aurelius'; a philosopher of sorts who wrote a book on how to be a ruler.
With exception to "The Meditations", each was dry to the bone. Getting through them was a slog.
Honestly, if it was just the books, I would be fine. I've been getting by so far by just skimming some of the historical stuff and filling in the blanks based on what I hear other people say.
The problem is the writing assignments that come along with the readings.
Now, I was used to having a lot of reading and writing from my first life. I'd like to think I was really good at it. One case I remember quite well, for the worst reasons, was working on a twenty four page essay on the Flensburg Government for my graduate degree in Political Science. A paper meant to be worked on over the course of two months was squished into a period of two weeks. I asked my professor at the time why she pushed it up so much.
The answer was, essentially, because "fuck you".
Ughh. Just remembering that makes my fingers hurt.
Now though? Now I have to write a short summary of what was read for each reading. Not that big a deal objectively speaking. Two, maybe three, paragraphs in length and I'm good. Not even a whole page. Maybe three quarters at most.
So what was my problem?
Well...
"That's wrong," Coldwater snapped at me, snatching my paper from me and began to scribble corrections on it.
Ah yes, Venara Coldwater. My 'study partner'. I feel the word 'acquaintance' is a bit too distant to refer to our relationship. But I certainly wouldn't call her a friend. She's abrasive and prickly at the best of times. Carries herself as if every person she passes should thank her for the honor of being in her presence for even a moment. A staunch classist if her comments on the various staff is anything to go by. And, to top it all off, she is one of the most proud and spiteful people I have ever met.
On the first day of classes, a boy tripped her along the walkways outside; right in front of the main gate. I'm not sure if it was intentional or not because I didn't see it, but it doesn't really matter in hindsight. Her response to him? Yell at him? Threatened to tattle on him? Of course not!
Her response was to blast him with a stream of conjured water and snap freeze it so he was stuck on the ground. Such a 'measured' response. And of course nothing happened to her because of it.
How do I know that last bit? Because she told me about when she sat down next to me the next day.
Yes. The girl who is so aggressive that she thinks freezing a kid who may or may not have tripped her is a proportional response, decided to sit next to me in every class we have together; the kid who beat her in an actual fight.
The only warning I had the first day was her backpack slamming down next to me. She had this scowl on her face as she took the desk next to mine. I genuinely thought she was going to cause a scene. But she just starts talking; more venting than anything else to be honest.
Since then, she's stuck to me like glue. Every class we have, she darts over to where I am sitting. Every lunch hour, she zeroes in wherever I am. And study hall? Well...
Across from me, I heard her mutter to herself. Scribbling fiercely on my paper, occasionally shooting me a look before looking back down. All the while muttering to herself. When she was satisfied with her word, she slid it back to me, "Orak was the third Grand Magister, not the thirtieth."
Grumbling, I looked at her correction, my eyes rolling at her cutesy writing style, "that's what I wrote".
"Really?" Coldwater smiled, leaning across the desk, her hands supporting her head, "a child has cleaner writing than you."
It's not my fault elves are stuck in some medieval stasis and have never invented a pencil in their thousands of years of civilization!
I hate quills! They're brittle; I go through about three or four a day. Ink gets everywhere. Every time I scribble in a certain way, there's the chance of me ripping the parchment. And the way I had to hold it made my handwriting look like a child just learning how to write for the first time.
For a so called 'advanced' society, they seemingly have no concept of a fucking pen.
Just give me a pencil for God's sake!
"Look I have a hard time writing okay," I countered.
All she did was shake her head and give an exaggerated sigh, "standards here have obviously slipped in recent years if something like this was considered acceptable."
I frowned, "you know you come off as arrogant right?"
She huffed, "Is it wrong for me to be proud of my own intelligence?"
I groaned in frustration. It seems like she doesn't even like me. So why was she constantly following me around if that is the case! Was this some kind of unspoken nobility thing? I defeat her so she has to put up with me. Hell, I've seen her utterly ignore the very existence of some people for far less sass then I give her! Like not using her name with enough respect. Honestly, what the hell does that even mean?
If she dislikes me, then I ask again, why does she follow me around?
"You're one to talk, Venara," I said softly; but importantly not in Thalessian.
Coldwater cocked her head and frowned; eyes wide as an owl's. "What was that?"
I hummed, "what was what?"
"What did you just say?" she demanded.
"Oh that," I looked up. "I was just practicing my Common. I'm very proud of my skill in it."
Her expression soured
Yes, Verena Coldwater, the self proclaimed greatest mage of our generation, whose knowledge of the arcane is second to none, is horrible at foreign language. She could barely speak Common, let alone write in it! And when the professor did force her to speak, it was broken, harsh, with sounds so overemphasized that her speech had all the melody of nails being dragged on a chalkboard to me.
Maybe I was being a bit harsh. Technically speaking, I am a 'native' Common speaker; since Common is literally the same as English. Despite immersing myself in both reading and writing Thalessian for the past years, I could still speak and write in perfect English. Got applauded for it too! Our foreign language professor says I have the best grasp of Common that he has seen in over five hundred years.
Actually, it's ironic. In my first life, I was terrible at other languages. Only knew English. Now, I'm a language 'prodigy'.
She took my jab with all the grace I expected of her.
"Hey! It's not my fault that humans have a stupid language! They sound like cavemen with all the grunting and moaning! Don't even get me started on the writing!" Oh Coldwater, I think you've already started. Everyone in the local area is now shooting glances at her. "I can barely read that birdscribble they call the written word! I-"
She jumped a bit as a librarian shushed her quite loudly. Coldwater sunk into her seat, a flash of embarrassment clear on her face as she became all too aware of how many eyes were now on her.
We sat for a minute in silence. I returned to my writings.
"Honestly," she started up again, looking around to see if she was still being watched. Thankfully minding her tone this time, "reading it is almost as bad as reading your handwriting."
I won't tell her that I take that as a compliment.
---
"You have all made considerable progress these past six months," the elderly looking man told us from his podium. This was a break from our regular schedule. Usually, we had Enchanting class after lunch but instead of Professor Lightlens, this older guy came in; one Lector Naris. Given the opulence of his robes, and how much jewelry he was wearing, it was obvious he was one of the 'big wigs' of the Academy.
"But now that you are acclimated to the Academy, it is time for you to 'spread your wings'," he chuckled to himself at a joke only he knew. "While the Academy can teach you much, some things are better taught outside our walls." From his podium, he picked up a packet of papers. He jostled the papers before us, "one month ago, the Academy sent out word that we were looking for upstanding individuals of the proper station who were willing to take our new students on as apprentices for the immediate future."
Oh, that.
Firebrook told me about this. This was basically an internship program in the simplest terms. Basically, the Academy looks around for people to take on a student part time. It gives kids a bit of an outside experience. It lets them see how the world 'actually' works. Some hands on, real world, applications of intelligence and magic. It can even help you set up personal connections to people for use in the future. A foot in the door, so to say, for future career options.
Firebrook mentioned he got the memo about this and put his name forward to be my mentor. He also noted that as a relative unknown, he'd probably not have any issue taking me on as his apprentice.
"And so they have responded," the Lector continued. "After providing some amount of information on each of you, you have each been chosen by name by at least one, or more, individuals. Out of these numbers, have chosen the individual we believe is best suited for the role of mentorship. Barring any unfortunate situations," he let the words hang in the air, " you will be apprenticed under them for the duration of your time at the Academy."
An energy of excitement filled the room.
"This does not mean you may slack on your work," he quickly added. "You must learn to balance what your mentor wishes and what the Academy expects of you. Failure to do so can potentially impact your future. Now then," he pulled a single sheet out of order and shuffled it around. Then straightened out the papers against his lectern, "when I call your name, you will come up and I will hand you all the information you will need for your first meeting with your mentor. Which will happen Today."
That got some whispers going on.
Ignoring them, he ran off the names of my class. One by one, the students went up, he had a short word with them, handed them the paper, and they went back to their seats.
I honestly couldn't tell if he was going in alphabetic order or not. Because the names went down as, first Allbright, then Brightstone, then Coldwater, then Emberbirth, then both Greatstars. If he was going athletically, then completely skipped me. By the time he reached Starlight, everyone but myself had gone up.
This was weird.
One paper left, he looked up to the class, "if you have received your instructions already, you are free to go. Dawnguard," he addressed me directly, waving me over. "A moment."
I gave Elsia a look, she nodded and proceeded out with the others. Coldwater lingered a bit, her eyes looking between the Lector and myself, before leaving as well.
Alone, I approached the podium.
"Is something wrong sir," I asked.
The Lector pinched the ridge of his nose, "not from anything you have done, I can assure you." He pulled up the last paper he had, "I suppose you have no idea who this is?"
"It's probably not who I'm thinking it is," I sheepishly responded.
He sighed, "unless you're thinking of someone with ties to the royal family, then no."
The Royal Family! A lot of warning sirens went off in my head.
"I can tell by that expression that you are as lost as we are," Naris began. "The day we released the basic information of yourself and fellow classmates for mentorship, a letter arrived in the post box. Mere hours after we released the information. And said envelope the letter came in was stamped with the Royal Seal."
He waited for me to digest just how big of a thing this is before continuing on. Someone, or someone's, had a particular interest in me.
"In the letter, we were told, in no uncertain terms, that this woman," he tapped the paper, "was to be your mentor."
"Who sent it?" I was genuinely confused. Why would anyone even pay attention to me, let alone know about me?
"Someone who cannot legally be denied in any circumstance within the kingdom," he told me grimly.
Wait. Cannot legally be denied? In an absolute monarchy, only one person has that amount of power. But that mean that would imply that the sender was the-
"I kept you behind to see if you had any indication about all of this," Narsis went on. "But your confusion only raises further questions. I have no idea how you have attracted such attention Dawnguard, but be careful. Having attention is not always a good thing. Remember this one thing if nothing else is retained over the course of your studies. It may seem trivial, but it is by far the most important thing you may ever learn here."
I grimaced at the meaning, and the all too real attention I am worrying about, "I know."
He handed me the paper, folded so I could see what was written on it. Then, he ushered me out.
Outside, I saw both Elsia and, surprisingly, Coldwater waiting down the hall. They looked like they were ignoring the other, but perked up then they saw me.
As I walked to them, I unfolded the paper and scanned it up and down. All that I saw as a single address, somewhere just outside the city limits, and a single name.
Siristra Everflight.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And once again, Firebrook gets apprentice-blocked.
And yes, Coldwater's tsundere fields are at maximum! But it's not like she likes Syllia or anything....