The man behind the counter wore thick spectacles and had deep-set wrinkles that seemed to sink into his face. His gaze was menacing as he looked me up and down, searching for any traces of deceit. He spoke in a low growl, "Documents." I fumbled through my pockets before producing a sheaf of documents, stamped with an official seal. He glanced at them briefly before jerking his chin towards a nearby building.
"Mages go there," he said gruffly before turning back to his papers without another word.
I started walking briskly, weaving my way through the muddy streets. I could feel the occasional gaze of a soldier surveying me from afar but kept my head down and focused on my destination. As I got closer to the entrance of the building, I grew anxious about how to approach it. Would I knock? Just barge in? In the end, I opted for a combination of both; taking one deep breath, I slowly opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was dimly lit and smelled faintly of mustiness; it felt like it hadn't been used in years. A single figure sat behind a large desk at the far end of the room. He had gray hairs adorning his head and fixed me with a gentle stare as I approached him.
As I reluctantly approach the man's desk, my steps feel heavy as I try to conceal my anxiety. He sits behind a stack of paper, his eyes staring tiredly at a book open in front of him. When he notices me, his expression changes to one of expectancy and his blue eyes seem to brighten behind his glasses.
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"I was told that you are expecting a Mage," I say nervously.
The man nods in response, pushing up his glasses with one hand before motioning for me to move closer. "Your Name and area of expertise?" he asks. I take a few more hesitant steps forward and offer him the documents detailing my qualifications. He quickly scans through them, his brow furrowing slightly as he reviews them.
"Thank you, Master Millian," he says, his voice filled with a hint of exhaustion. "But this still doesn't cover your area of expertise."
"I haven't specialized in any particular thing yet," I explain hurriedly. "I've been studying various magical disciplines and honing my skills so I'm able to adapt to different situations." The man nods understandingly after considering my response for a few moments. He scribbles something onto a blank piece of paper before looking up at me again.
"Given your lack of experience," he begins, "we can assign you a mentor who can teach you how to survive in combat as well as other important strategies." His expression shifts to one of seriousness as he continues talking. "Survival skills are essential in our line of work," he emphasizes, "so your mentor will help you learn those crucial skills in addition to teaching you how to fight.
The Sekretarian's voice was tired as he handed me a folded piece of parchment. I unfolded it to find the name “Rodrick” written in elegant calligraphic script. He continued, instructing me that I and another group of newcomers were to be sent on foot to the frontlines.
“Wait here until someone arrives who is supposed to carry letters to the troops on the frontline. You are free to accompany them when they go.”
I glanced around, my eyes landing on a shelf filled with books covering various topics, from literature to military strategy. One title stood out: "The Question of Cavalry in Times of Gunpowder and Steam by Stunford Blue". The details of the embossed gold letters glimmered in the dim light.