When will I be remembered?

The room was simple a few wooden high back chairs, and a couple small wooden tables, with a total of six students present. Everyone present was quietly sweating in the midsummer heat. The sound of a horse pulled cart outside distracted one of the male students. Though their teacher quickly reminded him about the task at hand.

"Eyes forward young master Zourgh" Murk Woodwin sighed as he strode towards the youth. his short legs quickly bringing him to the boys side. "Are we clear?"

"Yes Sir Woodwin" young Zourgh said as he once more bent forward over the parchment before him quill in hand.

Murk Woodwin soon returned to the front of the room watching his class. He wasn't entirely impressed by most of the students though two did stand out. First was Elewyn the daughter of a well off farmer, while the other was the fourth son of the Earl of Sengin, Earl Vincent Crescent was fair to his people, but with five children, his youngest son Edgar had no much drive towards trying to inherite his father's lands or title.

In fact the young Lord Crescent barely tried in all his previous studies, Murk recalled his friend Octavia telling him the boy would be a masterful fencer had he applied himself. Murk didn't question her views as she was herself a Master of fencing and his former adventuring party member.

.......................

Edgar never looked up from the parchment in front of him even when he heard the horse cart outside hit the rut in the dirt road. Quickly wiping the sweat soaked sleeve of his tunic across his dripping brow as he focused on the task at hand. His teacher of arts Sir Woodwin, who was knighted by Edgar's own father had tasked him and the other students to look around the room and sketch what they saw, anything they saw as only they could see it.

So without hesitation Edgar had chosen to sketch out the image of one of the female students, the contours of her frame were simple and showed a healthy vibrant life. Her eyes were like honeyed amber pearls, her hair black satin. Edgar could barely understand what free him to her, aside from Humble beauty she was but a farmer's daughter, and his third born daughter at that. Though more then her image he drew the thing that hovered around her, the semi ethereal flames the followed her every action, the soft blue-violet flames that were her's alone, were far different from what Edgar saw reflected behind him when he looked upon the reflection pond back at the Manor. The dark childlike creature that always whispered in his ear, even now...

"come on edge~" the soft voice whispered In his ear, " let me help, let me in" The creature always asked to be let in, and never called Edgar by his name or title of young Lord or young master, it only called him Edge, as if it were a close friend. No one else could see the creatures, or the ethereal flames that followed everyone so Edgar long since believed himself to be mad... Was a madman how he would be remembered or will he be forgotten like his late mother.