Chapter 3
Az’s assigned room was generously spacious and immaculately clean. The furniture was basic but of the highest quality, as expected of Macedar’s famous academy. Still, he could not help but feel a twinge of disappointment as he took in his new room. He had thought the room would be more overtly magical.
A tall mostly empty bookshelf lay against one wall, on the left of which was a large wardrobe and on the other side was an ancient looking writing desk and chair. Sunlight streamed through a clear glass window inlaid in the far wall to the right of the desk. On the other side of the room was a modest bed and bedside locker. A small door at the end of the bed was ajar, revealing the bathroom within.
Magical plumbing, Az knew, was used in every dorm at the academy. Waste was magically incinerated using cleverly enchanted toilets. A curious recollection from one of the many lessons he had endured over the years on the history and construction of the academy.
Az wasn’t sure what he had expected. Maybe some elaborate magical lighting rather than the simple magical ceiling light every home in Macedar had or something else to reflect the status of the academy. Something with a bit of flair. Still, the room was clean, warm, and - more importantly - his own. It would be a nice home and workspace for the next four years. Students rarely swapped rooms at the academy without a valid reason.
He laid his bags down with relief; he would sort through them later and see what horrors his mother had tried to pass off as clothes. He collapsed gratefully into the aged wooden chair and began to examine the papers Mr Quark had given him.
There was a bundle of pages explaining how many classes he was to take and what he could choose from. Some were mandatory for all incoming students while there were a variety of elective classes he could choose to take depending on his interest. It looked like had some reading to do. He had known the basic layout of the academic year before ever arriving but there was a brief summary of what each class offered that he would have to meticulously examine later. Az intended to choose the best classes for him, those that would challenge him and set him on the right path as a mage.
He would come back to that later; at the bottom of the pile was the map of the grounds that Kayla had mentioned. Az cast one last longing glance at the class summaries and climbed up off of the chair. He had a meeting to attend.
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The assembly hall was a cacophony of chatter as Az took his seat. The hall was a typical theater, with rows of seats on various levels forming a semi-circle around a large central stage. The academy took in over 300 students each year, and it seemed that nearly all of them were currently occupying the hall’s seats. Az had received a few more pointed looks as he had entered, but he had seen a few other individuals and small groups dressed similarly to him.
The academy attracted students from the world over; its reputation as a school of magic was second to none. So looking around Az spotted students that bore the characteristic traits of nearly every city state and nation he knew from his studies. He saw a number of students that had the characteristic pale piercing eyes of the Talohs spirit-tribes, a people who formed bonds with natural spirits and channeled their power. Others had the long flowing golden hair of the people of the mountain cities, eyes sparkling like precious gems as they stared ahead with haughty dignity.
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Az began to feel rather mundane in his appearance as he took in the multitude of bloodline traits and exotic colorings present in the room. Practising certain types of magic could alter an individual’s biology and spiritual make-up and some of these changes were present in their descendants. Some peoples in distant cities looked rather different from those he was accustomed to in Macedar as a result of local magic practices. He himself had the light brown hair and eyes that were common among the Macedar nobles.
The murmur of voices began to dwindle, and Az cast his attention back to the stage. A man had appeared in the center of the platform. He was dressed in elaborate flowing golden and blue robes and he wore a crown of blue gems upon his brow. A tall, lean man, he stood in a calm, ready manner that commanded attention and respect. Az could not put an age to the figure. His jet black hair and chiseled face hinted at a man in the prime years of his life, but Az knew him for who he was. The Chancellor of Macedar’s academy.
In its thousand year history, the academy had only had a single Chancellor. Iskander was a legend. A wandering mage, he chose to settle in Macedar when the city was barely worthy of calling it that. His academy drew students from the world over; famous magical families sent their most promising young to study under the great Iskander, for his was a legend that had been spread to every corner of the world. Az had grown up hearing stories of Iskander’s early adventures; how he cast the dragon known as the Dread from the sky with a single spell, ending a rampage that had claimed the lives of thousands in a single moment. How he had turned the broken desert of Reer into a thriving grassland in an act of magic that rivaled that of the Gods. Iskander the Immortal was a name spoken of with utter reverence in the streets of Macedar. Even more so than the city’s ruling council, or Az’s father himself, Iskander was the true power in Macedar. His presence in the city meant that the million people that called it home could live with the surety that no harm would ever befall them from external threat.
An awed silence fell over the assembly hall, as each student waited with bated breath to hear what a living legend had to say to them, his newest batch of students. When the last scattered murmurs of whispered conversation died out, he spoke.
“Be welcome,” Iskander’s voice ran out, strong and true, “The academy welcomes you, our most recent initiates into the ranks of our students. I welcome you.”
He continued, his eyes roaming the crowd of assembled students as if searching the very souls of those gathered before him, “Each of you has earned a place at my academy. If you go no further as a mage, to have arrived here today is still something you can be proud of.
“Your teachers here will push you to the limits of your ability, but I expect you to push yourself harder than anyone else. There is no room at this academy for mediocrity, no room for laziness. Once you stepped foot onto these grounds your old life ended and you were born anew. The ties of blood are as nothing to the bond you now share with all that dwell in these halls.
“Every mage to pass through those same gates you entered today has shared a common drive, a common purpose. To grow, to improve, to unravel the mysteries of the divine and the magical, to bend the very power of creation to their will.
Iskander paused, letting the weight of his words settle onto the enraptured students,
“So long as you hold yourself to the path you have embarked on, the path to knowledge, and, yes, to power, I shall welcome you as members of my house. All that I possess is yours to use, all that I know is yours to learn. Do not disappoint me.”
With those final words an invisible pressure seemed to explode out of him, though he stood there looking at the gathered students with the same regal disposition. Az felt as though he could hardly breathe, the very air was heavy with the Chancellor’s power. In that power, Az sensed an endless ocean of strength, the indomitable will of an Immortal. His eyes were locked on Iskander, and as he struggled to regain control of his body the Chancellor’s sapphire eyes swiveled to meet his, just for an instant, and in that sliver of time Az felt as if his very soul was laid bare before an unknowable and ancient intellect, and then those eyes were gone again, sweeping over the crowd. As quickly as that crushing pressure had manifested, it released, and the audience drew a grateful breath.
Behind Iskander, a shimmering doorway of blue light had coalesced, and with one last look over the gathered students, the Chancellor of the academy turned and vanished into that shining portal.