Not to disagree, but to add some context to that scene that I think might be interesting but isn't in the text because it would have detracted from the focus on Heidi: Mathilde takes a moment to consider it because to her, being a Ranaldian is one major facet to her character among several - being a Wizard, being a Stirlandian, being a citizen of Eight Peaks, heading the Waystone Project. Most major things she does is in service of one of those, and she often ropes in the others to assist when applicable. But Heidi is a Ranaldian, she does things to be a Ranaldian, and she does them in Ranaldian ways. When Mathilde pauses and says 'I suppose so', it's because she has to consider her life through that lens, where all her behaviours go into one of four Ranaldian boxes instead of Ranald things being one tool in her belt. Her greatsword shenanigans go into the Protector box, instead of being a blend of her Stirlandian and Eight Peaks facets; her smug mysterious aura becomes a Deceiver trait instead of a Wizard thing; her stealth stuff becomes a Night Prowler situational usefulness instead of an application of her Wizard abilities. To the normal lens she uses to see herself, the Gambler stuff is the only purely Ranaldian expression of her character, and that's why she uses it to get Ranald's attention - because it's the facet that she normally doesn't throw herself fully into, so when she does it's an explicit act of devotion instead of just her natural vibes being Ranald-compatible.
No lens is necessarily correct or incorrect. In the same way that Heidi parses all of Mathilde through a purely Ranaldian lens, there are people that see her through a purely Wizardly one, or a purely Stirlandian one, or a purely Dwarf-y one, or an international diplomacy one, not because those are more correct lenses but because those are they are most accustomed to using, or because they're the ones they can see the clearest through, or because they're the ones most applicable to the task at hand.
This feels pleasing to Ranald in its own right--Mathilde acts in Ranaldian-aligned ways even when not trying to, almost tongue-in-cheek "is she being like this because she's a Ranaldian or because she's a wizard and the answer is yes".
Similarly, the Ducklings all started thriving once they escaped from the mono-Wizard mindset that was constricting them and 'multiclassed' into a mindset and worldview that allowed other facets of their person to flourish, which ended up not only making them better people but also better Wizards than even they had remained stuck in the constricted mindset that was stunting them. Panoramia (and this is something that is already on my mind for a conversation in the treehouse scene) isn't quite the same as the Ducklings - she is more fully a Wizard than them, but she is a better Wizard outside of a Wizarding context than she was inside of the one she was born into. Some trees grow well in dense vegetation, others need more room to spread their roots, as a Jade Wizard might put it. Max has faded into something of a minor character in the story and I've allowed him to do so without regret because the Wizard part of his life is a job for him - a job he likes and finds fulfilling, but it's the clock he punches to be able to pursue his true passion that is a purely academic pursuit of metalworking. More than pretty much any other character, Max knows what he wants out of life and how to get it. In a way he's kind of like Jerry from Parks and Recreation - he doesn't care how seriously he's taken at work because the job is one he can put down at the end of the day and return to the life he finds supremely fulfilling.
Max is really good at what he does, but he isn't too focused or ambitious about growing that capability further. Which is fine, because what he does is quite valuable already and being so reliable and consistent is part of that value. Rather than disrespect, I respect that he has made good use of his wizardly potential and acts like a dwarf-quality cog in the important machine that is the Colleges.
Johann is interesting, because he was driven to prove himself and in pursuing that with some dodgy secret squirrel deniable ops this parchment will self immolate in five seconds shit, he got caught up in Mathilde's wake and Mathilde took him deadly serious in his own right from day one. The thread's deep suspicion of his bullshit was actually the best thing that could happen for him because what he wanted most was to be taken that seriously. And it turns out that when he was already getting acceptance from outside the Gold Order, his obsession with becoming the very literal Golden Boy stopped seeming so meaningful, and then pursuing it anyway out of inertia went in a way that could be seen as extremely badly but could also be seen as not that big a deal. Also his boss took his golden bear ass to a place where a very influential subset of society religiously venerates physical perfection, and their species kind of tops out at twunk. Being actively desired does strange and powerful things to a soul that spent so long yearning just to be wanted.
Johann came from a background where he was a wizard but his magic was stunted. Against the odds, a master saw potential in him and trained him up into being a force to be reckoned with. Mathilde became a superior that took him seriously from the start and appreciated the strengths of Johann's capabilities rather than get caught up in his limitations. Raiding the skaven with him repeatedly was a really good move--it shows that Mathilde really got and appreciated what Johann could do immediately and ran with it, because what normal wizard would look at a Gold wizard with inflexible magic and jump right on the "infiltration buddy" button?
From there, the ways in which Johann has been included and grown has probably helped a lot. Teaching him how to see with Windsight after being blinded and then taking him with us to the Chaos Wastes as proof that we really did believe he was no less capable for it. Getting the lizardman arm prosthetic that made him even more deadly in a fight and unique as a wizard. The adventure into the edge of Ostermark and then into Kislev--when a Lady Magister treats you as their partner in investigation, problem solving, and battle, you know you're a desired quality.
And Egrimm? It is such a quiet thing, to fall. It begins inside, when you decide that the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune can only be put right by setting aside all that must not be set aside. But then if the slings and arrows are stopped, after you've marked all these things for setting aside but before you actually do the setting... what does that do to a person? Knowing what you're capable of, but also knowing that you didn't actually do anything worse than maneuver yourself into a position to do all those things that you didn't actually do? All of the doors that life had so unfairly barred have now swung open. You can just walk down them. Do you? Should you? Can you let yourself do so, knowing what you might have become? Should you even care about policing yourself when you were so recently so ready to do so much worse?
Did you actually fall?
Is that thing? Can you fall just a little bit? Can you just pick yourself up and dust yourself off and continue on the path? You look around expecting to see judgement, but apparently nobody even noticed. Mildly skinned knees hidden under clothes and already beginning to heal. You can just continue on without anybody ever knowing or ever needing to know, like nothing ever happened, because nothing did.
But it could have.
But it didn't.
From this, Egrimm is a fascinating case study. In a world where corruption of the soul and mind are very real things, questions are raised about where lines are drawn and their implications. And I think there's a strength to be gained in coming close to a fall but backing away from the edge--the experience in knowing what it's like but also knowing that you
did back away from crossing those lines.
Mathilde came in at the right time and provided exactly what he needed: a friend, a superior who treated him well and respectfully, a partner in adventure and challenge, and a key connection towards the ideals he once believed in but had been denied and soured on over time. She used her influence and opportunity to cut right through the messy politics and darker things to give him an escape from that mess and give him the recognition and freedom he deserved. Then she took him to a place far away from all of the negative connotations he'd built and into a place of wonder and opportunity: Laurelorn, with breaks in a place practically built on merit, growth, and comradery--Karak Eight Peaks. He got to work with living legends in the fields of magic and runecraft as an equal and help unravel some of the oldest and greatest works in the world.
He knows he was on a dark path, and in hindsight it's horrifying. But it's a good thing that no one noticed, or that Mathilde, finding out from a very dubious source, decided that it didn't matter if it was true or not because the end result is that Egrimm was on the right path and would stay on that path so long as Mathilde kept doing what she was already doing.
There's a sort of irony, there--the high-ranking shadowmancer of the Empire, supposed to be the paranoid enforcer against corruption from the shadows, deciding that Egrimm's previously being on the path to high treason didn't matter because he'd turned away from that path by just being treated right. There's a parallel, too, about Mathilde and her reading of the Liber Mortis: in itself, an unforgivable red flag, but in the context of "is on the right path and is staying on the right path", she's not so different herself.
Kind of like how a Witch Hunter Elector Count once found out that his spymaster was under the thumb of the Lahmians, and decided to work behind the scenes to liberate her from that conspiracy rather than treat her as a threat to be expunged. Paying it forward and all that.
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