Post by Myrdraxxis on Jun 21, 2013 0:18:41 GMT -5
~Part One~
The great halls of the Northyric Council Tower were all but empty at this time of day. Most of the Magisters that inhabited the great spire had either long returned home for the evening or were locked in their chambers working.
A young man, barely out of his teens stood alone in the hall, leaning against one of the towering arches and all but hidden by the shadows that were cast by the fading light that streamed in from the tall windows.
Septimus was weary, both physically and emotionally. This was the third day that he had been haunting the lower levels of the great Spire and at this point he was at a loss.
His family was one not a very old or wealthy family, despite their status as a lineage of magisters. This made his name worth next to nothing in the upper echelon of Northyros society, not to mention the fact that he was the seventh son of his house. Seventh!
Most third sons of their line could barely hope for any inheritance or support from their family when they came of age. Septimus was surprised he had been allowed to remain in his home at all. Most sons or daughters of magister families in his position (all one of them) were expected to fend for themselves.
So Septimus had set out looking for a job within the heart of the Magisters’ rule. A tad ambitious perhaps, but Septimus had been confident that he could be of use in at least some sort of menial job. Apparently he had been wrong.
The first day here Septimus had come to realize that his family name meant next to nothing, which meant that the only way he could hope to do anything was through sheer impressive magical might. Which, unfortunately, he did not have.
Oh sure, simple cantrips here taught to every mageborn child in Northyros, but Septimus could not call down lightning storms or conflagrations that defined a powerful mage. His talents lay elsewhere.
Which was when he had learned that spirit magic wasn’t very well liked.
Sometimes you just can’t win.
Septimus sighed, leaning his head against the cold pillar and shutting his eyes. “Maybe I can try my luck in the military.” He muttered to himself. “Death by mammoths might be better than this.”
He stayed like that for a while, losing track of the time until he heard the sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor. He ignored it, confident that whichever magister passed him by would happily return the favor.
He listened as the footsteps got louder, and then suddenly stopped.
Septimus blinked his eyes opened, realizing that the owner of those footsteps had halted in front of him. The magister was fairly tall, with a bigger build than was usually the case for one who chose to fire spells from a distance than fight in the thick of it. A black overcoat shrouded his form. The man had snow white hair and Septimus could see that his left eye had been injured at some point, because it was covered by a leather eyepatch. The magister’s other eye was focused on Septimus, narrowed in consideration.
Septimus stiffened under the man’s gaze and quickly averted his eyes. Then he noticed the blue sash around the man’s waist. Not just a magister, but a councilman as well!
“Pardon me, mi’lord.” Septimus bowed deeply, automatically. The magister stared at him for another moment before letting loose a derisive snort.
“There a specific reason you should be apologizing to me?” the man asked Septimus blinked.
“Sir?”
“Because unless you’re just another one of those damned bootlickers here to try and worm your way into my favor, I can’t think of a reason why you should be bowing to me. I’ve never seen you around here before, so I doubt you’ even know who I am.”
“Uh, because you’re a councilor-“
“Oho, so that’s the only reason? If a damn mammoth came charging through here with this thing on it” he indicated his councilor’s sash, “you’d drop to your knees? Not a lot of dignity in you, is there?”
Septimus had been subject to worse in the past three days, but he was tired, and frankly had had enough. Only a great deal of discipline kept him from striking the man. He settled for glaring murderously at the magister. “I bow to make sure I don’t get in the way of some pompous magister’s inflated ego.” His mouth spoke before his brain could explain to it why exactly that was a bad idea.
Well, it wasn’t like he had been in anyone’s good graces anyway right?
The magister only smirked, apparently finding what he was looking for. “You have a name, boy?”
“Uh, yes. It’s Septimus, mi’lord. Septimus Revek.” The magister raised an eyebrow.
“Gaius’ son? So you’re a spirit mage then.”
“His seventh son.” Septimus added bitterly. The magister let out a loud chuckle at that.
“Man, you really have shit luck, don’t you?”
Well, it wasn’t like Septimus didn’t agree, but hearing someone else say it sorta stung. He sighed and nodded wearily. The magister quick laughing after a moment, glancing away and nodding to himself, as if confirming something.
“Well alright then, Septimus Revek. Come along then.” He began walking down the hall, motioning for Septimus to follow. Septimus just stared at him in confusion.
“Sir?”
“I don’t make a habit of being kept waiting by my apprentices, boy. Now come on.” Septimus stared at him, not really understanding for a moment. When he did, he just stared harder.
“But I, mi’lord-“
“The name’s Magnus boy. You’d better learn it and stop calling me ‘milord’ if you’re going to be my apprentice.” Magnus said over his shoulder and continued to walk away.
Septimus stood rooted in place for a moment longer before his legs began to move. His thoughts still confused and disbelieving, he followed the magister.