AELLARIA

Behngi, Aellaria, Syn, and Marin sat in the men’s common room that evening. They sometimes relaxed in the men’s shared spaces because the men of Spire kept more to themselves than Bren, Flair, and Alyviah. Except for Marin and Aellaria’s weekly walks to Mistfall. The four students had been locked away in Spire, like princesses in the old romance fairytales.

The four were discussing the direction of their education. If they made it to the third year, they would have to decide what type of sorcerer they would commit to being. There were seven colleges of sorcerer: bard, healer, paladin, rogue, ranger, spellfighter, or wizard.

Of course, as Phoenix devouts, Syn and Marin hoped he would choose them as his paladins. However, paladins were the most sought-after college, and since there was a component of willingness from the god involved, there was always a chance no deity would accept them.

“I am so anxious to be accepted by Phoenix. I have been praying every night for guidance. It would be heartbreaking if he didn’t accept me as one of his chosen. I really hope that I get to be Dean Flamescale’s student, too.” Marin said. She went to touch her holy symbol before realizing it was gone.

Syn had a worried expression, “Wait, you pray every day? I only pray if things get bad. I worry he would get annoyed if he heard from me so often. Honestly, I forget sometimes, too.”

“You shouldn’t pray just when things are bad. I am sure Phoenix wants to know about all the things you love. The sun doesn’t just set; it rises, too,” Marin said, another of Phoenix’s platitudes.

Syn seemed nervous about this conversation’s trajectory. “What about you, Behngi? Did you want to be a Paladin of Zobu?”

Behngi already knew he wouldn’t be worthy of being her chosen. “Zobu is the goddess of pride and nobility. As a ward of Element, I am about as far away from the nobility as I could be. No, I think that with my build– maybe it would be best for me to be a rogue or ranger.”

“You would make a great rogue!” Marin said cheerily. “You need to work on your serious face, though. When Rietta questioned me, it felt like her eyes were boring through me.”

Behngi jokingly gave Marin a smokey, intense expression.

Aellaria scoffed. Behngi had the build, but the naive lottery apprentice didn’t consider the political ramifications. “Element nor Spire would let a ward from Arcane become a rogue. Teaching a potential political enemy how to be a spy is too risky. No offense, Behngi. You are a good guy, but I don’t trust Spire or the Elemental Government to see that.”

Behngi smiled with a pained expression. “I guess I could be a ranger, then. It’s just– I know my eyes are so inferior to the wood elves. It feels like I could never be a great ranger.”

Syn leaned forward and firmly clapped Behngi on the back. “Don’t worry. With how much effort you put into everything you do– I believe you’ll be great no matter which path you walk.”

Behngi visibly cheered up but was happy to move on to someone else. “How about you, Aellaria?”

Aellaria contemplated the question. Zenithor was a rogue, a spy who had lived among the elves of Arcane for decades. However, Zenithor didn’t want to be too on the nose. Nothing is more suspect than a talented rogue. “I think I will become a bard.”

Aellaria becoming a bard seemed like a joke to the other three. Behngi, Syn, and Marin all burst out laughing. In truth, Aellaria’s words were honest. Lilium always wanted to be a bard. A magical musician of Jest that would go from town to town brightening the days of mothers, fathers, and soldiers; everyone loved a good bard.

Syn caught her breath and said, “So the wiggling thing you do with the hat, that is so you can brighten everyone’s day with laughter?”

Aellaria crossed her arms. “It’s a design feature. You’ll see.”

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Syn laughed even harder.

MARIN

As the group laughed, a man wearing brown robes walked over. Marin and Behngi recognized the short Electromancer. He handed everyone in the group a small paper flyer. “Hi friends, will you be going to the harvest festival? Most of the men in our class are going, but drinking with a bunch of dudes sounds like a bad time.”

Marin smiled and looked at the rest of the group to see if this was a good idea. She recognized the mage in brown robes as the same one that kicked her ass. Justice’s presence made her nervous–she could almost still feel the static shock buzzing in her skull.

Syn eventually nodded, “This might be just what we need. I feel like I’ve been trapped in Spire for weeks. As long as you boys don’t mind some competition.”

Justice laughed. “If enough mundane women show up, I won’t feel threatened.”

Marin felt uncomfortable with the implication that those without talent were ‘mundane.’ However, she didn’t think it was her place to challenge the top of Granite Guardian’s class. Also, with the remarkable lives led by the other students here, she almost felt ‘mundane’ and didn’t want to show her offense at the term.

Syn smirked competitively, “The top of Granite Guardian’s class bedding a mundane woman? How the mighty do fall.” She shook her head as if it was a great shame.

Justice reached out to formally introduce himself. “My name is Justice of Tyr.”

One at a time, everyone else introduced themselves.

When Justice realized who Marin was, he scratched his head nervously, “Oh, Marin, I remember now. I am sorry if my attack harmed you in any way. I got you a bit better than I planned to.”

Not being able to hold a grudge, Marin responded with a kind grin, “Yeah, I didn’t see it coming at all. No hard feelings. Promise.”

Aellaria read the flyer closely, but something didn’t quite make sense. “Why would the local farmers host an alcohol-fueled harvest celebration?”

“The farmers like to get in our good graces because today's students are tomorrow's enchanters– and if they can’t get reasonable prices on excavation, harvesting, and sowing trinkets, their work increases tenfold,” Justice explained.

Behngi responded, “It sounds like fun. Count me in.” Then Aellaria, Syn, and Marin agreed.

“I will see you all there, remember– Next Sunday!” Justice said as he walked off, likely to the cafeteria.

When Justice walked away, Marin felt a little more comfortable in the presence of her friends. “Is it really normal to call people without talent mundane?”

“Mundane is the polite word for it. Some mages with less class call those without talent simple, dull, or witless.” Aellaria said.

“In Arcane, elves without talent are called ‘Inconsequential,’” Behngi said.

Finally, Syn nodded, “There are worse terms, but typically, you refer to those without talent as mundane. Just know that people who don’t have talent sometimes take offense to it.”

Aellaria added, “You don’t have to worry about mages looking down on people. They outnumber us in numbers and force. Our enchantments and medicine have changed the lives of the ruling and working classes for the better.” To illustrate the point, Aellaria lifted the Harvest Festival flyer.

Marin nodded, “I am just thinking about my family and how they would feel. Maybe the harvest festival is exactly what I need, too.”