Following the signing of the colonel’s contract, and Corindrian’s hesitant agreement, I was given quarters in the mage’s tower with the weathermaster’s other apprentices. The first and older apprentice, Ornookian, who was barely older in years and far more practiced in magicks at that point in his studies than I was when my apprenticeship ended. Immediately, he scorned me for reasons unclear until years later. The other apprentice, Jaryne, was but twelve years of age. Corindrian bid the young apprentice not yet study spells or other magicks, for the child lacked the discipline and skills to safely study arcane forces. My new quarters, Ornookian’s scorn, and the many years between Jaryne and I made for a lonely and difficult year. My studies did not relieve these frustrations, for the weathermaster made it clear that I had much to learn if I was to earn his praise and learn the healing magicks I had long sought.

On my first day the weathermaster spoke thus: “Nayinian, you are here not because I believe you have learned patience, or know what learning is. Only for the price I owe the kingdom of Moringia have I apprenticed you. I request you heed the virtues of patience and caution, for the healing magicks you seek are potent. Error in casting will cause you such woe, presently and in your future. Until I deem you ready, only illusion magicks shall you learn. Once you have shown me you are not hot headed and impatient, then can I show you the fundamentals of the stronger arcane forces.”

The weathermaster’s concerns were of course well founded, but being the impetuous and ambitious student I was, I aimed to please. I kept many late nights in which the tomes and scrolls I poured were only illuminated by the small motes of fading candlelight. Each morning I joined Ornookian and Jayne to clean the cramped and towering library of the wizard’s domain. Each day I would tend to the errands assigned to me by the weather magus, and each evening I would cook for the four of us before once again keeping a late night pouring through tomes and scrolls of illusion magicks.

Over many months this routine became dull and irritating. I missed my friend Ynguinian strongly, for I had not seen him in many months. I grew frustrated at having to do simple chores that could be completed by simple spells. I grew tired of only being able to study late into the evening, rarely if ever receiving Corindrian’s direct instruction on the actual matters of magicks. In my many months there I had never seen the old mage manipulate the arcane, even for mundane tasks. So, many months into my first year of apprenticeship I confronted the old mage regarding my exhaustion and frustration at my duties.

I approached the old mage, as he was scouring the tomes of his tall and claustrophobic library, and there laid bare the displeasure I had felt over the first months of my apprenticeship:

“Corindrian. Many nights I have stayed late, straining to read books and scrolls by faint motes of fading candlelight. Many days I have done your errands without complaint, and many evenings I have cooked for you and the other apprentices. Yet, you refuse to help or teach me any of the fundamentals of magic. There are spells that can do this simple and tedious labor, giving all of us time to study and you ample time to teach me the things I am supposed to learn. I tire of these small illusions and chores. Do you intend to teach me of magicks, or to bore me of the pursuit entirely?”

The dark-skinned mage lifted his hand and struck me with a strength that betrayed his wizened appearance. Then, squatting to look in my eyes, for his strike had thrown me to the ground, Corindrian spoke, Corindrian spoke sounding almost as one of the tempests that afflict the Rippled Plains south of The Deep Woad that surrounds the first yew.

“Nayinian. Many times you will have to learn this lesson, yet I hope this first teaching is your harshest: there is more to magicks than knowing magicks. Dangerous and difficult it is to pull and shape the formless substance, shown to us by Knowledge, from beyond the celestial sphere. To do so poorly and recklessly will bring only woe and bitterness to yourself. Healing magicks are the most dangerous, for the thing being manipulated is life itself and that domain is where Decay’s presence is closest and therefore most likely to infest the caster. If one is to err and misremember the incantation in the first language, or provide the wrong ingredients, or misplace one’s hands, then slowly they will rot, and their village rot, and Virtue of good men will rot.

“There is more to being a mage than casting magicks: it is to know the right spell to cast, and it is to craft that spell concisely. Several minutes it would take me to memorize a spell to dust the books. An hour or so it would take me to recall a spell to cook dinner. Yet, no other spells would I be able to cast during these times. There are greater problems I have been tasked to solve, and when you have patronage to a count, a king, a city, or an army then you will understand why it is not an option to solve all of my problems with magicks. I know the spells that change the rain on a whim. When the floods came to Arimens I could have spoken a spell to have the waters recede and keep the streets dry. But, I did not, for I have higher duties to attend to for this city and this kingdom.”

Angrily I implored the old mage: “Then let me learn magic that can actually serve to help you, for you are my patron and illusions are not of use! I have studied for many months, that must be enough! What tasks must I complete to show that I have knowledge of small trickery and fanciful images?”

To which Corindrian responded “Show me you understand the nature of the magicks Kalitian gifted to you,” and absconded to his higher duties. Tired of being condescended in the ways of magicks I went to my quarters, locked my door, and set to craft a spell of illusion with which Corindrian would no longer set aside his duties to instruct me more thoroughly in the arcane forces. 

That night I did not sleep, instead I modified and tinkered the spell of unnoticing I had learned years ago into a sorcery that would not fail to draw notice for its ingenuity. It took me until sunrise to memorize the words in the first language necessary for casting the  new spell, gather its components, and with precision rehearse the hand positions lest I manipulate the wrong sources and bring misfortune to myself. For I was new to spell-crafting, the incantation was laborious and the spell took many hours to cast upon myself.

That morning as I began my many chores, the other apprentices could not help but to notice me. Ornookian in particular was not his foul and untalkative self, but even went as far to praise the effort and detail with which I cleaned the tower’s library. As I prepared to do my errands for the day, Corindrian finally showed himself to the apprentices and he could not help but notice me and everything I had done for him. This was the nature of the spell I had crafted to express my knowledge of illusions, the most useless magicks.

“Naynian, I am pleased with the effort by which you have worked, and more so impressed by the ingenuity of the spell you have cast. Allow me to review the passage in the first language you have crafted. If I am satisfied that your knowledge of the first language did not expose you or us to danger, then I will work to teach you the fundamentals of arcane forces, and relieve you of some of your duties.”

I showed Corindrian the spell in the book he had given me to study. For nearly an hour in complete silence the wise mage reviewed the morphing runes of the first language I had scrawled into my small spellbook. In the end, Corindrian was satisfied, and the next day I began to study more potent and dangerous forces. I learned how to pull water from the aloe plant, and to ignite dried sticks. Over many months I learned simple spells of Corindrian’s own devices, which he bid me cast to save him and Ornookian the time and effort.

One day at the beginning of spring, Corindrian bid all of his apprentices to ignore their chores and leave the tower for the day.

“Apprentices, I have a spell of great precision that I need the utmost silence for. Do with this day what you wish, but be sure to watch the skies if you wish to see what study makes one capable of.”

Happy to have a break from my studies, I knew exactly who was going to be my acquaintance on that day as I sprinted to the western quarters to find Ynguinian and tell him of my studies with the weathermaster. He had yet to leave his quarters, still musty from the apothecarial ingredients I had stored there, and I found myself surprised to see that his regalia had changed. Instead of the symbol of Arimens, seven lines to represent the seven wizard towers of the city, he bore the thirteen-sided star of Mentilian, the second saint, whose patron is Order. By Luck’s favor, the virtuous man had time before returning to his duties as a squire to a paladin of Mentilian. 

For many hours, then, did we wander the streets of Arimens talking of the happenings of the past months. I told my dearest friend of the new spells I had learned, the ones I had crafted, and of the demeanors of Ornookian, Jaryne, and Corindian. I told Ynguinian of how much I had longed to see him again, for my studies were stressful and kept me late into the evening. Ynguinian told me of his decision to become a squire, for he knew that if he were to become a paladin he could go and fight the battles he pleased, and he longed to protect me as I traveled with the Moringian armies after my apprenticeship under Corindrian was finished. It was perhaps then that I understood he intended to court me, and I tried vain to hide my excitement at this possibility. If Ynguinian knew of my eagerness, he did not show it, for he was a man of Virtue and would have known better than to embarrass me.

As our day about Arimens continued we ate much food from market stalls and regaled one another of the training we were each receiving and of times-past. The company was so great that we nearly missed the approach of a tempest to the city. Coming from the thundered plains, a mighty storm of lightning, fire, and ice encroached quickly towards the city. Many windy tendrils the powerful storm set upon and devoured the lands to the East, visible from the elevated perch atop Urostian’s temple where we had opted to sit. The roar of the storm began to reverberate through the city, as people (ants to us) ran indoors to seek shelter from the bizarre and unnatural-seeming storm. The storm was almost to the gates when Ynguinian insisted we move indoors for safety, as neither of us had heard of such a nasty and destructive storm. 

Recalling Corindrian’s words earlier that day, I had Ynguinian sit. The arch mage had told his apprentices that if we wished to see his potency, we should watch the sky which then roiled more forcefully than the most broken and violent. The storm had begun assimilating the eastern quarters of the city, when from Corindrian’s tower a great barrier expanded and repelled the devouring storm. Angrily, the bizarre squall clawed the edges of the city, each strike of lightning more ferocious and desperate than the last. 

For many days the storm looked for weaknesses in the barrier as to breach the city, but Corindrian’s magicks held steadfast and indestructible. The following weeks, conversation was had among all people of the city. “Why had Daristian brought such wrath upon Arimens and its honorable people? What if the weathermaster had not been here to provide salvation to us?” Yet, now I know it was not that ninth saint that had brought such wrath upon this. No, this was the most blatant sign of that ancient and powerful evil I have been summoned to your village at the edge of the Gray Spine to defeat.  That storm, however, was only a portent of the terrible wrath that the ancient adversary would see to bring upon man, incurable by the magicks I long-sought.