Back in the library again. To his great surprise, Samuel was rather tired of finding himself here so often. Despite his joy of reading and discovering new information, he bemoaned the time he could instead be spending on perfecting his spell. Even passing the first shelf, he could already feel his eyes wandering to the multitudes of tomes on display, his curiosity idly wondering at what information they could hold for him. But he had to stay focused on his task.
The Basic Principles of Transmutation and Its Applications in Other Magic Schools by Archmage Senevas Moran. An equally long and tedious-sounding title, Samuel thought, pulling the book from the shelf and settling it into the crook of his left arm. For a moment, his eyes lingered on the spine of the book next to it. It was an anthology of stories, with no author name listed. Hadn’t his original plan been to travel the world and learn new stories? Maybe he could read this to get inspiration, or at least to hear some new stories.
He carried both books to an empty table nearby, settling into the comfortable chair and opening the Transmutation book. As he’d expected, it was a very dry read. But his assignment for Master Astori was to summarize the first chapter of this tome, so he had to bear it. All he really had to do was read it and take notes. He withdrew a quill from the bag he always carried around school, and set it in a small pot of ink.
One neat little spell, well more of a technique that he’d learned from another upperclassman, came in handy here. He surrounded the quill in his mana, and with a lazy flick, pulled it free. Its point landed lightly on the parchment without his need to actually touch it, and he could write any word that came to his mind. In fact, it was even neater than if he’d tried to write it with his own clumsy fingers. With this spell, the time moved considerably more quickly than it would have without it, and before long he found himself halfway through the chapter without realizing it.
“That’s a neat use of the locomotion spell,” a voice said from his left, breaking his concentration. “I don’t think I’ve seen a student use it to take notes.”
Samuel glanced up, his heart skipping a beat as the white robe of the stranger nearly filled his field of vision. An archmage. His gaze continued upward to the man’s face, but he didn’t look familiar. His hair, a dark brown with the first signs of grey, was cut short enough to keep it free from his brow, and he had a bushy, if well-trimmed beard that hid the lower half of his face from view.
Samuel shot to his feet at once, bowing his head respectfully. “Good evening, Archmage. I apologize, I didn’t hear you approaching me.”
“That’s quite alright,” the man said affably, waving Samuel back down into his seat.. Samuel did as well, and the Archmage took a step closer to peer at the book he’d been reading. “I’m the one who should apologize for breaking a mage’s concentration. Ah, Senevas Moran. A very accomplished practitioner, I’ve heard. Shame he never had much talent in writing.”
In spite of himself, Samuel could feel the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smirk. So even highly-ranked Archmages agreed that Moran couldn’t write an interesting passage. He felt a twinge of pity for the old mage, whenever he had lived. “I’m starting to notice that often, Archmage.”
“What, that most mages are terrible writers?”
He began to nod his head in agreement, then hesitated, wondering if that would be seen as rude. But the Archmage merely threw his head back in laughter, a loud and surprisingly deep, booming noise that was a shock in the quiet atmosphere of the library. “Well, aren’t you a modest one! I wouldn’t worry too much about hurting his feelings, lad. The man died more than two hundred years ago. Never even got to see the Age of Mortality.”
With that, the Archmage stuck out a hand in greeting, as if he’d just remembered. “I don’t recognize you, so you must be one of the first-years. I am Archmage Henrik Wembly. I oversee the school of Travel.”
Samuel shook Archmage Wembly’s hand. He’d heard the man’s name mentioned a few times, of course, mostly by their Travel teacher, Master Hrafn. He was rumored to be very aloof in his connections to the school. Word was that he barely spent any time in his tower, choosing instead to travel across the world, as his school of magic would imply.
“I’m enjoying your subject so far,” Samuel said with a grin. “I’m hoping to do a fair bit of traveling in my life, and I think the spells Master Hrafn teaches me will be good for that.”
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“Well, she would know about Travel magic,” Wembly replied with an honest smile. “Many of her family are Wardens, after all.”
Samuel nodded, but couldn’t think of anything to add. He didn’t know much about the Wardens, save that they wandered the world. Every single one of them was a true nomad, he knew, never settling down in one place until they were quite old. Even then, few of them reached old age, given how dangerous the untamed parts of the world could be. Samuel had entertained the idea of becoming a Warden himself before, but he’d given up on the prospect. He wanted to travel, yes, but he couldn’t stomach the idea of having no ties whatsoever.
“Are you a follower of the Great Raven, then?” he asked, gesturing to a silver pendant he could just see poking out of the collar of the man’s white robes.
“I am,” Wembly agreed, glancing down at the chain. “I’m not nearly as devout as the Wardens are, but following his ways has protected me many times on the road. I’m more than happy to offer him my devotion. Of course, I don’t often get the chance to talk about it while here at the school. They’re not fond of many of the gods here, as I’m sure you know. Well, save for Arcana, perhaps.”
The new mention fo the deity’s name felt like a shaft of ice in Samuel’s head. He could just barely hear the ethereal voice now, even though he wasn’t dreaming. Come. Find me. Was Arcana calling out to him even in his waking hours now? Just how much of a connection did the two of them share? He wouldn’t be surprised if he started seeing apparitions of that glowing ball of light before him.
“Are you alright, young man?”
Samuel shook himself out of his reverie. Somehow, the mere thought of Arcana appearing before him had actually started to make his body feel heavy. It was as if he were being put to sleep, or else that his mind was being pulled to a different location. He blinked rapidly to clear the glowing sphere from his vision. “Yes, I’m quite well. Sorry, Archmage Wembly.”
“What is your name?”
“I’m Samuel Bragg,” Samuel said, bobbing his head in respect again. “I’m studying every type of magic I can, but I’m officially part of the Knowledge School.”
“Ah, yes, I’ve heard of you,” Wembly said, his smile fading slightly. “You’re the first student that’s ever enrolled under Archmage Peran.”
“I am? I mean, I knew I was the only one currently under him, but I didn’t know there’d never been another student that he oversaw.”
“Indeed. He’s usually in charge of administrative duties for the College, as he has no pupils to teach. But it’s not just that there’ve never been any apprentices under his tutelage. Not counting you two, there have never been any students who tested for the Knowledge domain in the history of the College.”
Well, that was less surprising to hear, Samuel thought. In fact, it made a twisted sort of sense. Based on what he could glean from the scorched remnants of Peran’s old journal, the school of Knowledge was a minor one. If Arcana hadn’t been so important to the history of the College, he was certain it would have faded into antiquity by now. He wondered idly what other followers of Arcana, if there were any, would do within the College. What would be their role within the school and the Guild it represented?
“So tell me, young Lord Bragg,” Wembly asked. “How are you finding the College so far? Has it lived up to your expectations?”
“As far as I can tell, Archmage,” Samuel replied, grinning awkwardly. “Though I don’t think I ever thought about how much work would go into learning magic.”
His comment earned a chuckle from the older man. “Yes, that is a common sentiment. It is the same at every level, I assure you. Even Archmages have their work cut out for them. One never stops being a student, you know.”
That was something that Master Astori had quoted to him before, Samuel thought. Either it was a popular saying in the College, or this grizzled Archmage was a kindred spirit to his surly Transmutation teacher. He liked to think it was the latter. The two seemed very similar, if only in the way they viewed the study of magic. Their temperaments, of course, couldn’t be further apart. He let out a soft laugh at the thought.
“Something amusing, Lord Bragg?”
“No, sir,” he said quickly. He hoped Wembly hadn’t thought Samuel was laughing at him. “And please, call me Samuel. I don’t really feel like a noble.”
“Well, I must be on my way now,” the Archmage said, showing no sign that he’d heard Samuel’s remark. “Lots to do, I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” Samuel offered the man another small bob of his head, surprised at the sudden departure. “Have a good day, Archmage.”
Wembly made his way out of the library, causing a small stir among the attendants that he passed, each one bowing deeply out of respect. Samuel watched the white robe until it was out of view, wondering if he ever tired of the prestige and honor that was prescribed to someone of his station. Maybe he did, he thought, and that was why he spent so much time away from the College.
With a start, he realized that he’d completely forgotten about the assignment for Astori’s class. He went back to it, not wanting to have anything left to work on when he got home. Quite apart from the guest he was expecting that night, he also didn’t like to take his work back to the estate. He preferred to use those hours working on his unique spell.