The Magic Academy

Araval walks through his front garden towards the cobbled street. Many onlookers have taken an interest in the destruction of his once beautiful and well-maintained hedges and bushes of the 100-foot-long garden, now scorched and cindered. The residents, all of whom are dressed exquisitely, quietly whisper to each other and snigger under their breaths while their eyes lay locked onto Araval with a cold, dead intent. Unphased by the gossip of the common man, Araval walks with purpose through the streets, the fabled Magic Academy visible in the far distance of the city, perched high as towers of many shapes and sizes branch off a central column. He slowly makes his ascent towards answers as a small Dyasig boy runs up beside him, dressed in clean, well-maintained clothes that would still be considered 'filthy' by the upper-class snobs. Dyasig is a fish-human race that is humanoid with a random assortment of fish aspects, such as gills, scales, and webbed fingers and toes. They can live on land and water as long as they have gills. Bairon has small gills and greenish scales that hide behind his shoulder-length blonde hair.

"Hey Mr Teldalor! Everyone's talking about your magic mishap! They say you and the Mrs got into an argument, that being retired, you're at each other's throats." the boy speaks without a filter or worry for any potential backlash for his comments.

Araval sighs as he speaks to shut down rumours quickly. "Don't listen to the prattle of miserable, silver-spooned people who are so invested in false faces, Bairon. Lillian and I are as strong as ever, over ninety years together, and I still love her more than anything." 

Bairon walks quickly to keep up with the eight-foot-tall Elf, Araval.

"They said your riff-raff Gnome son returned with a couple of miscreants." 

Araval stops and faces Bairon. His stare burning deep into Bairon's eyes.

"If anyone wishes to insult my family, then they are welcome to say it to my face. Understand, Bairon, anyone who speaks malice in the shadows but preaches love in the light is never to be trusted." Araval speaks with seriousness.

Bairon uncomfortably chuckles and lifts his hands in front of his body.

"I didn't say it, Mr Teldalor!! It's those big-wig, hoity-toity types."

Araval shakes the hair of Bairon.

"I know you wouldn't. Now I must go; I've got important business at the Academy." Araval laughs with a smile, defusing the tense situation."

Bairon jumps in front of Araval. "Wait! I've been practising my magic; Check this out!!" Bairon focuses as he says 'Nero-Fineasch' and performs intricate hand movements. Bairon slowly becomes transparent. Although mostly undetectable, when looking at Bairon, the area behind him is slightly warped. Araval strokes his beard and then claps.

"You've been practising, I see. When you get older, the Academy would greatly benefit from having you learn under them. You have talent, Bairon."

Bairon shyly laughs. "Thanks, Mr Teldalor; I'm saving whatever Coin I can every day to afford it!"

"When you plan to enrol, let me know. I'll help pay for your studies; It's the least I can do for having such wonderful conversations on my daily strolls." Araval starts walking again while Bairon is stunned as the invisibility fades away.

"You're the best, Mr Teldalor!! Say hi to Mrs Teldalor and Mr Meetlemire for me!!" Bairon shouts with glee.

"Of course, they'll be thrilled you thought of them." Araval waves to Bairon as he slowly is lost in the crowd.

The streets get busier and louder the closer he gets to the Academy. A Magic Academy exists in every city in The Sovereignty. Epoch Bastion, being the Capital, holds the most prestigious Magic Academy, but the others in Blackstand, Mirian and Volmyr are just as desirable. Acquiring a diploma from any of these Magic Academies is considered the most affluent and impressive credential one can receive. Araval arrives at the gates of the Academy, attached to considerable golden fencing that reaches twenty feet high and spans many hundreds of metres with runes and sigils on the floor and floating above, acting as a protection spell to dissuade any trespassers—a fortress within the fortress city of Volmyr.

Araval stands with purpose at the gates as they slowly open on their own, allowing him to enter and slowly close again behind him as he walks through the plaza of the Academy. Hundreds of Initiates walk the plaza, wearing black robes with tiny fragments of sparkling Coldstone sewn throughout the robes. Although retired for many years, as the Initiates see Araval, they bow in respect until he passes them. The Academy walls, made of Coldstone and other miscellaneous binders, stands hundreds of feet high, looking like a tree with the spires and additional structures built onto the Academy over the years. The sight is more impressive than seeing the walls of Volmyr itself for the first time.

Araval confidently enters the Academy as the lobby is bustling with Initiates and instructors. An Elven gentleman with a bald head and straggly white beard, old by even Elven standards, hunched over, walking with a cane, greets Araval at the door. He painfully looks up to confirm Araval's identity; once satisfied, he lowers his head and rubs his neck in pain.

"I was informed you entered the Academy grounds. It has been some time, Araval. Why have you returned?" The old man curiously questions.

Araval bows in respect before speaking. "I require your assistance, Grand Magister Vyn. If you would humour my request."

Grand Magister Vyn looks up once again to meet Araval's gaze.

"Quite interesting. Let us speak privately in my office then. It's the minimum respect a Magister of your capabilities deserves." Vyn lifts a finger, and a door materialises in front of them. "Please, you first." Vyn shakily raises his arm, inviting Araval inside.

Araval nods respectfully, entering the room first, with Vyn slowly following behind.

The office is small and cramped, with a glass window that spans the entire circular room with no exit door. The room is located at the Academy's peak, with magnificent views overlooking the whole city, including the port, the Coldstone mountains and many miles of the Valandras Sea. Araval sits in a seat in front of an old, creaky table across from Vyn.

"You are still in this room, I see. You deserve a more prestigious office that correctly aligns with your rank, Grand Magister." Araval respectfully voices.

"When one is concerned with the immaterial things, that is when they are of no value anymore." Vyn plainly says. "This is a fine enough place for my needs, but enough about my office. Why are you here, Araval? You haven't stepped foot on Academy grounds anywhere in the Sovereignty for at least eighteen years." Vyn leans over the table with an attentive stare.

Araval clears his throat before speaking.

"I require information regarding expelled mages and Primordial Artefacts." Araval anxiously asks Vyn, maintaining his composure as Vyn stares unblinking at him.

"That is considered confidential Academy information, Araval. You know this." Vyn raises his voice as it bounces around the room.

"I know, grand magister. I apologise for bringing this to you-" Araval babbles, his anxiety rising every second that passes.

"But!" Vyn loudly utters, raising his hand. "If I followed every rule of the Academy, I would have a grand office, the largest of all!" Vyn chuckles. "Rules are sometimes there to be broken, but let's keep this conversation between us."

Araval breathes a sigh of relief as he relaxes into the chair.

"I appreciate your help, Grand Magister." 

Vyn summons a small portal next to himself and reaches his arm into it, pulling out a scroll, placing it on the table, reaching in once more, and obtaining a second scroll. As Vyn sets the second scroll on the table, the portal dissipates.

"Since this conversation isn't sanctioned within the Academy, call me Vyn. Formality isn't required." Vyn states. "Now, what name are you seeking in the expelled list?"

"Names." Araval corrects Vyn as he hesitates to say the names, predominantly, Xzeralaki. "Jarathus, and..uh...Xzeralaki."

Vyn does not react to the name 'Jarathus', but his eyes, once looking at the scroll, look up, squinting at Araval upon hearing the name 'Xzeralaki'.

"Now, that name hasn't been spoken of in many years. What interest do you have in that Dark Elf? Does it coincide with this Jarathus and the Primordial Artefacts?" Vyn curiously asks.

"Rumour has it, Archnobles were transporting a Primordial Artefact within Redwood Forest, and Xzeralaki intercepted the cargo and stole it." Araval boldly voices.

Vyn stares with an unwavering gaze. "How did you come across this information, Araval? Archnobles business is secretive, even to the Academy." Vyn asks, interested.

"I cannot say. It may not even be accurate, but I have reason to believe it is." Araval says.

Vyn sits back in his chair, looking out toward the view.

"I don't have to tell you how evil Xzeralaki is. Even though she worked underneath me, she was given unique liberties for her assistance with the Archnobles, that even I wasn't allowed to know her business. That was until her expulsion, ordered by King Aerim Titus of The Sovereignty." Vyn speaks with a distaste for Xzeralaki, noticeable in his tone of voice. "A mage with incredible potential, rarely ever seen in a generation."

"I know the story, Vyn. Expelled for her views not coinciding with the Archnoble's goals." Araval utters.

Vyn leans forward again and gives the scroll to Araval.

"It was the vaguest option that we, the Academy, decided was best. Rumours of all sorts flew around, with no one knowing which was real, and so over time, everyone slowly forgot about Xzeralaki and carried on with their life." Vyn worryingly states.

Araval reads the classified information about Xzeralaki. As he does, his eyes widen as his lips mouth the words he reads. After a brief moment, Araval looks perturbed.

"Is this real?!" Araval stresses.

"Yes." Vyn plainly replies. "Whoever your source was that told you about the assault in Redwood Forest would be telling the truth, If Xzeralaki's interest in the Primordial Artefacts would be anything to go by."

Araval strokes his beard in an anxious state. "But the Primordial Artefacts were just myth. When I left the Academy, there was only ever talk of them, nothing factual."

"Your station was not high enough to be informed of their existence. If everyone knew of them, then imagine the mayhem it would cause. Mages of all walks of life would hunt endlessly for them; countries would burn if even a whiff of the artefacts existed in them. We needed this to stay a rumour, and a rumour it will." Vyn raises his voice and speaks with authority.

"I would not inform the world of their existence, not that anyone would believe me. If Xzeralaki seeks them, we must be there to stop her or we are all doomed." Araval raises his voice back before stopping himself. "I am sorry, Grand Magister, for raising my voice."

"Your passion is expected under these dire circumstances. I will extend an opportunity towards you, Araval, and your wife, Lillian, as I know you are both quite inseparable. I have been devising a way to locate Primordial Artefacts. I have spent many years on this and can tell I am near its completion, but I require assistance. If you both assist me, I will share my knowledge with you." Vyn magnanimously voices.

Araval stares with confusion at Vyn's proposal. "Why would you share that work with us? There must be a hundred other more qualified mages, you could ask. I haven't spoken to you in years, let alone been part of the Academy." Araval inquiries.

Vyn stands up, stretching himself tall as his bones crack.

"Because I am no fool, Araval. I do not play games surrounding Xzeralaki or the Primordial Artefacts, and you will search aimlessly in the dark for both without my help. I am willing to risk betrayal in the hopes of finding an ally."

Vyn conjures a portal in the room as it swirls a cloudy purple.

"My life is close to its end, and my knowledge must be passed on. If you wish for that person to be you, then make a decision and tell me your answer." Vyn confidently voices as the portal opens up to Araval's destroyed garden.

"We both hold secrets, and hopefully, in time, we can share them and become unburdened." Vyn extends his hand out to Araval, who shakes his hand.

"I'll have an answer to you soon, but know, for little, you can trust me right now; I would never betray you. I wish for Xzeralaki to be stopped, for if she isn't, we are all condemned to her twisted malevolence." Araval replies with a serious tone as he moves toward the portal.

"I appreciate the words, Araval. And before you go, the other name you required, 'Jarathus'?. He was a Human named Jarathus Gerhardt who studied at the Epoch Bastion Magic Academy. You and Lillian, along with a few others, served as impartial jurors in his case of expulsion over two hundred years ago. He was studying and, although no evidence was found, was convicted of using Necromancy. He'll be long dead by now. Humans never live long." Vyn articulates. "I look forward to hearing from you, Araval."

"You will have my decision shortly. Thank you for speaking with me." Araval respectfully replies. As he steps through the portal, it disappears behind him.

Vyn sits back down in his chair.

"I trust you, Araval, because you cannot lie in this room. You speak the truth, and I speak the truth in return." Vyn thinks to himself.

End Chapter