119 The First Level

"How dare that son of a . . ."

Anakin Disfiegro assessed himself. He took a deep breath and then tried to calm his nerves. A mere commoner shouldn't be able to get into him. Their ranks literally meant heaven and earth. He stopped himself shortly from speaking as he felt anger rising in the depths of his very being. That Leviticus—he was simply getting fool of himself. Anakin assured his heart that he shouldn't get swayed by that filth.

Mages born as commoners are what you can call weaklings. They were fortunate enough to have been granted a mana that they can convert into ordnances, but that doesn't put them on the same page as nobles. Nobles were of high stature. Once they get their magician licenses, they can apply in the palaces, The Court, and even The Council. Whereas commoners—huh. Anakin doesn't give a damn about whatever profession they would see fit. But he was certain that it won't be higher than any of the nobles. Even a baron.