@Spirit

---

The rest of the feast passed quietly enough for Isil. As soon as she ate her fill and spent some time casually chatting with a few other of her peers she left for the library. The only small hiccup...was that someone cursed her chair or something. Now that was a problem, wasn't it? Likely some childish prankster that wanted to make her look bad. Unfortunately for him, she wouldn't be the victim of such an obvious and small prank. She casually grabbed her staff form where it was leaning on the table, resting the butt of it against the floor as she reinforced the weakened chair legs before standing up. Whatever damage had been done to the legs, had at least been strengthened temporarily to allow her to get up without incident.

She wouldn't be made fun of or made a fool of so easily. Not again.

After of which, she left the room and spent most of the night in the library and doing some light exercise around the campus. She might not be the strongest, but she couldn't let her physical health or ability fall behind. She made a mental note to find a nice garden or forest to practice in, later.

---

peck peck

"Hrm..." The elf in the bed shifted slightly, rubbing her face into the pillow trying to ignore the incessant pecking on her cheek from the bird.

peck peck peck

"Nooo, that tickles...""

Seeing the elf still not responding immediately, the bird decided to do something a tad bit more drastic. It hopped onto her forehead before reaching down with its beak and pulling open one of her eyelids.

"GAH!" The elf shot straight up in her bed as the bird fluttered quickly onto the edge of the bed, tilting its head and looking up at her innocently. "Wha?..." She yawned, rubbing the side of her face lightly as she groggily woke. Oof, perhaps she had stayed up too late last night with her studies and practices. More importantly though, she looked down at the bird that was happily looking up at her. "...huh...class assignments or something?" That seemed likely, at least after the announcement of the feast the previous day. So communicating with familiars like this was how they went about delivering messages. Reasonable, as long as they didn't explode for the sake of simply exploding.

"You better not explode this time. I am not cleaning it up and will write a very sternly worded letter to the headmistress." Isil grumpily replied brushing a strand of blond hair out of her face. The parchment bird simply hopped up and down impatiently before unfolding itself into a list of mentor assignments. The High Elf yawned again, picking up the piece of paper and throwing her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Lets see..." Isil stood, straightening one of the straps on the black nightgown she had been wearing to bed as she read over the assignments aloud. "To the Master of Healing, The Mistress of Rejuvenation, Master Liyva. Attending Master of the Healing arts..." Initially, she skipped over the first section. There was no way the headmistress put her in such an obviously ill-fitting class. She had almost zero skill with healing arts, as odd as that was for a High Elf such as her. However, as her eyes began reading down the page, not finding her name under the Destructive arts master, or under the Enchantment or even the Magical Applications teachers Isil frowned, eyes scanning the paper until she read the first section once again.

The reaction was almost immediate.

"OH COME ON!" The elf resisted the urge to crumple the paper and toss it out the window. "Healing classes?!" She scoffed, pulling off the sleepwear, briskly walking over to the bookshelf closet and throwing it open, pulling out her usual robes and started dressing. "Gah, what is this? The Academy back in Bistrial?!" She had zero interest in healing arts - and while sure, her High Elf blood gave her an affinity for them she zero skill! She had focused more on more...direct applications of her magic. This simply wouldn't do at all! She finished dressing, folding the paper and placing it in her pocket. She had three hours to sort this out with the headmistress.

This simply wouldn't do at all.

"I am going to write more than a sternly worded letter at this rate!" She grumbled, leaving her dorm. She could eat and visit the baths after dealing with this issue. She left her dorm, heading for the headmistress room with a brisk walk, the only outward sign of her annoyance once she left. On her way she cheerfully greeted a few other students, though didn't stay long to chat like she had previously, making an excuse of having to discuss something with the Headmistress. It was easy enough to find her office, having the otters point the way for her after asking politely.

As soon as she found the door with the rather childish and unprofessional letters, the Elf knocked hard on the door, three times. If she didn't answer immediately, she'd do it again until she did answer. As soon as she did, the headmistress would be faced with a rather grumpy looking elf who had both hands rest on her hips.

@Spirit

---

Alexander had sunken deep into a pleasant dream. Though he still twisted and turned in his bed. Even this early in the morning. The reasons were obvious. Copious amounts of mead, ale, and wine. Another remnant of his earlier life. After every battle, soldiers would feast like there was no tomorrow. Because, for some, there hadn't been. When you faced death and survived, life gains a certain sweetness. Or so the soldiers said. How could Alexander know? He never really fought in a battle. But he and his brothers were drawn into it none the less.

So yesterday, with some of the older students who accepted him, Alexander laughed and drank and roared. He even wrestled, though he mostly lost. Still, everyone seemed to have had a jolly good time. Except that now, in the morning, Alexander wouldn't remember anything of it. Luckily his paper messenger was a bit more patient. It just kept pecking periodically. Even though there was no sign of him waking up, the bird patiently kept pecking. Until slowly he felt it and his eyes fluttered open. Immediately the headache took a hold. "Oh... hell." he muttered as he tried to sit upright. Though drunk Alexander seemed prepared. There was tankard filled with water next to the bed. With one eye half open and the other crusted shut, he looked at the bird. "Could you like... give me a second?" The bird seemed to grant his request and Alexander downed the tankard. It helped a little, but not enough. "Okay, what do you have for me?" The bird unfolded elegantly and Alexander picked up the paper.

His eyes scanned the paper and after passing the first teacher, his heart felt relieved for a second. A healing teacher would probably obligate him to learn to heal as well. It was an incredible tool to have in your army. But Alexanders handicap certainly made that impossible. Furthermore, a healing teacher would probably pick up on it rather quickly. And Alexander didn't want to get sent away for being an abomination. Of course, he didn't know if they actually did that. But it was better to be safe than sorry. His eyes went further. Then Master Taihlier came up. But no, he wasn't amongst going to study under the master of the destructive arts. At least not immediatly. But another name caught his attention. Kyvir. He would have to congratulate him. Further down was Grand Enchanter Rovi. Enchanter!? How did he miss it!? He would have to speak with Mr. Rovi as fast as he could. But his name wasn't there. So he would have to wait. So would he study under the last teacher?

Rune weaver? Mistress of the Moon? Professor of magical applications? Runes Master? Half the titles told him nothing. Yesterday he couldn't find anything about Rune Weaving. What did magical applications encompass? Mistress of the Moon, what did that even mean? Of course, Runes Master was obvious. Alas, his name was there. And then he read the final note. Suddenly realizing he had already been dozing for an hour, he quickly rolled out of his bed and got dressed. He nearly stormed out of his room but stood still in the doorway. His notes! Three minutes later he rushed out with his notebook under his arm. Within it, the early ideas he had and the desires.

In the hall of the teachers, he quickly found the right door and knocked on it three times. Then he took a small step back. Just to look polite. Which was the least he could do considering his messy hair and somewhat dirty robes.

---

Garuda did have a small gesture of inviting Shamir to the dueling arena, to measure this young prince's ability as a warrior, a prince and a defender, but it appeared that he just wasn't interested, or misinterpreted his message. In either cases, Garuda did spend the rest of his day in the arena ring, practicing and honing his art of fighting. But he was unsatisfied...

None other that day had the intention to duel him.

---

peck peck peck

"Hm..."

Has some fool tried to break into his room?

peck peck peck peck

Garuda winced his eyebrows while his eyelids still perfectly shut as the pick onto his forehead got more and more disturbing. What the hell is going on? It felt as if he was being picked on the head...by some sort of bird. He could not tell very clearly, since several of his senses was still offline, lingered in the world of illusions and dreams. The sign was a clear awakening to his consciousness, and his first reflexes was to open his eyes, widely and clearly at the source of disturbance. It was indeed a bird.

"Isn't this a pleasure, to be visited by such a creature." Garuda quietly muttered, as he leaned closely to the bird. "Tell me little one, what are you here for?"

The bird said nothing in return. Instead, he dropped a certain note onto the bed Garuda was lying on. Garuda took the paper and gently unroll it.

"Hmmm...."

Destructive arts master huh...

Just as he would expect. His magical expertise wasn't really destructive, but at the least, it was in the relative magical tree. Sure, it wasn't what his empire would be pleased with, but would one rather defend his empire against threats until they finally cripple him, or would he preemptively head out and pull out the root of the weeds before it could grow? A warrior must be not be dormant. He must actively sought for a reason to battle, and to maintain his awareness high, his senses sharp, and his power strong, both physically and mentally. And that was what Garuda desired to enhance in this course.

"Report in 3 hours."

Well, he had plenty of time, so why hurry?

Casually lifting himself out of bed, Garuda took a quick shower, donned the powerful yet elegant suit of his, with his books and notes in hand, and headed out to the classroom.

---

Silias Aeson studied the parchment in his hands as he traversed the Arcanium, looking up occasionally to keep a good grasp of his bearings. Granted, he was mainly looking to keep track of the otters who were up and about at the early hour - only a fool would willingly anger a librarian, especially in such a place as this, and thus Silias gave them a wide berth.

As he made his way through the first floor, he slowed his gait as he passed the painting of Astioth. It was a momentary pause as his gaze swept over the Archmage's brushstroke visage. He hadn't recalled seeing the Archmage at the feast the previous night, oddly enough. One would assume that he would have made an appearance at such a gathering, but given his absence at the orientation, it seemed to suggest that he did not recognize a need to show himself for such ceremonies. Where exactly was he, then? And what could he possibly be doing?

Regardless of his reason, Silias thought, It is another mystery that this world presents me. One that shall have to wait until after I have discovered my mentor, at the very least.

He gave one last look to the painting, studying its features carefully, and made his way to the Headmistress' office. He didn't meet many students along his route, which was understandable - despite the impressive feast of the previous night, Silias was already looking forward to breakfast. Had he not needed to meet with the Headmistress this morning, he would likely have gone to the dining hall first. Despite Silias' lack of interest in delaying his meeting with idle conversation, Biblio was clearly a morning familiar. After three incidents where the bone spider eagerly greeted Silias' new peers by leaping onto them, Silias started giving all passerby a wider berth.

Yes, it told him vital information about how they reacted to overly friendly ivory arachnids, but in their panic they were starting to cast spells to dislodge Biblio. He'd rather not have his walk end in any living casualties - or worse, cause damage to the books on the nearby shelves. Thankfully, Biblio decided to behave after that last pyromancer nearly immolated herself in terror.

Upon reaching said office, however, he found he wasn't the only person seeking an audience with Astioth's adopted daughter. A High Elf, by the look of it, and a rather irate one at that. "And here I was told High Elves were to be proud and noble," he said conversationally. "Yet here you stand looking like a child who was denied dessert before dinner." Silias gestured vaguely with the parchment in his hand. "I take it you also have an issue with your assigned mentor?"

@Rune_Alchemist

Garanin was sleeping like a rock when he felt a disturbance on his face. The first poke startled him out of sleep. It wasn't until the third that he moved, a beefy hand swinging lazily at the interloper, only to hit into a piece of paper. "Uh whuzzat...?" Groaning, the dwarf sat up in his bed and looked down at the paper in his hand as it unraveled into a message. A quick read indicated that it showed which teacher he was going to be meeting with this morning. The Grand Enchanter Rovi, he was apparently called. That was certainly appropriate, since Enchanting was one of the only types of magic he could access with any regularity. Most other magics either fizzled out after a moment or were of...poor quality at best, though he'd seen some small successes with Restoration magic.

Taking his time to get dressed and armored, this time donning his full set of armor, Garanin looked about his room before taking stock. Breastplate, gauntlets, greaves, pauldrons, all accounted for. Making sure to grab his shield and hammer as well, Garanin stopped for just another moment, thinking to himself. He was at a school for mages, dressed like a soldier. He'd stick out like a sore thumb, but he'd stick out as soon as anybody asked him what magic he could use, anyway. He was certain "None, really" was a common response here.

Wondering how the few students he'd spoken to the previous day were doing, Garanin made his way to Grand Enchanter Rovi's room (being sure to avoid angering any otters on his way), solidly knocking on the door once he arrived. This was it. He was going to become a mage. Of some sort, at least.

@MadManMoon

---

"And here I was told High Elves were to be proud and noble,"

Isil was brought temporarily out of her thoughts by a sudden presence next to her.

"Yet here you stand looking like a child who was denied dessert before dinner. I take it you also have an issue with your assigned mentor?"

"C-childish?" Isil stuttered, remembering that she was in public and should at least not appear so impatient. She turned towards the man in question and gave him a slightly surprised look. "O-oh, uhm. Haha, I guess I am behaving rather childishly, aren't I? Having a bird peck at your cheek until you wake up tends to be rather grating on the nerves, especially if you're not much of a morning person and spent all night studying." She gave him a soft smile, laughing lightly as she held her hands together sheepishly. "Perhaps I should have had breakfast and taken a warm bath before speaking with the headmistress."

So she wasn't the only one who had an issue with their teacher, then? Curious, though she assumed she wouldn't be a unique case. There were always bound to be some people who were dissatisfied with their assigned mentors. That was just the way it was. Though, she didn't think she was behaving that childishly. Annoyed? Yes. Rightfully so in her opinion, but no need to advertise that.

"I am Isilfarrel Mornelis, pleasure to make your acquaintance, and yes well, I have something I wish to speak with the headmistress about."

@Rune_Alchemist

---

"I am Isilfarrel Mornelis, pleasure to make your acquaintance, and yes well, I have something I wish to speak with the headmistress about."

"And I am Silias Aeson," he replied. "I look forward to learning more with you." Silias glanced again at the mentor assignments. By my father's blood, now I'm really curious... he thought. He glanced back up at Isilfarrel. "Truth be told, it's another interesting break from the typical High Elf routine. Not wanting to learn restoration magic, I mean."

Silias glanced back at the list of mentors. "So which one were you hoping to learn? Enchantment? Runes? Destruction?"

@MadManMoon

---

"Mhm. Destruction, actually, and I dabble a little in Alteration." Isil replied in a friendly tone. "Which...is not exactly something that I could easily learn in the Isles. Or was...a very popular subject to speak of." She didn't elaborate further on that - there was no need for him to know the details. It would have been clear from the slight frown she gave though, she at least wasn't telling the entire story to Silias. "Although, I fear I may have made a tiiiiny mistake on my application. Truthfully I have only been interested in learning magical arts for little over a year or so. While I am confident in my application and theory, I was a bit unsure what to classify it as at the time when I applied." She laughed lightly.

"And what of you, then?" She asked. "I actually don't recall reading your name on the list."

---

After the feast, Kyvir had escorted his Mistress to her room and made way to his own, a steely glare ever-present on his scarred, red face. After arriving at his room, he stood at the door for a moment, staring at it intensely, thinking things he would never admit to. He shook the thoughts from his head and entered the room, casting a small spell on the lantern placed meticulously on a desk that, causing light to gently illuminate the entirety of his small quarters. After closing and locking the door behind him, he undressed to his undergarments, his scarred, leathery red skin seeming to almost glow in the soft light of the fire he had made. He neatly folded his clothing and placed it atop the only dresser his room had space to contain, and then proceeded to sit down in his desk, producing a small book from the top drawer of his desk. A Beginner's History to the Eastern Nations. The book's cover read in intricate, and excessive calligraphy. He didn't know ever word, but Tieflings weren't known for being stupid, and he was able to effectively understand some of the phrases his 'mentor' hadn't read aloud based upon the context of the sentences.

---

Kyvir's eyes opened suddenly to the sound of peeking on his desk, and he found himself sitting with a straight back at the desk he had apparently fallen asleep at. The first thing Kyvir noticed was the book opened before him, and to his personal surprise he found that he had read his way through significantly more of the tome's contents than he had expected. Glancing at the top of the page, he found that he had read through to page 768 of the 974 page book, and with the closest thing to a smile he had made in a long time rise over his lips, he marked the page and closed the book, then placed it back in to the top drawer of his desk.

With that taken care of, Kyvir turned his attention back to the pecking sound produced by another beautiful creature made of magic and dead wood. The tiefling and the bird made eye-contact, and Kyvir opened his hand for the bird to climb onto, and he waited for it's magic to unfold, and as it did, he let out a small sigh. Perhaps one day, you'll stay with me, he thought to himself as he unraveled the parchment and stared at the words gently scrawled across it. Understanding it's meaning, he quickly rose and dressed himself, and within moments, he was standing patiently outside the door of his Mistress's dorm, awaiting her return. He was not pleased that she had left for whatever task she was attending to, but the Arcanium was a safe enough place for her to do so without fear of attack.

@Rune_Alchemist

---

"Well, that's why I was going to see the Headmistress - the parchment said nothing about who I was assigned to. I doubt I'd be assigned to Restoration or Destruction, however." Silias paused. "No disrespect to your chosen path, but I personally feel that Destruction magic is a heavy-handed art. True, it is catered to those who prefer direct, decisive action, who would rather end a fight themselves in the most direct, decisive manner."

Silias put a hand to his chin. "Perhaps she too sees the disconnect with the concepts of a proud and noble High Elf, focused on preserving the lives of the feebled... and the chosen art for razing life and livelihoods. A subtle way of asking if you truly understand what you wish to learn, and manipulating you into explaining why you're rejecting the common teachings of your kind." Silias shook his head, lifting both hands palm-up as he shrugged. "Or perhaps it was a mere clerical error, and not some kind of commentary on seeking the path of a warrior."

"As for myself," Silias said, "I'm focusing on a few different disciplines." And here Biblio saw fit to crawl out from under the neck of his jacket. "The creation and manipulation of Constructs, for instance." He glanced at Biblio for a beat before turning back to Isilfarrel. "Well, technically speaking, Biblio here is a familiar - and a rather friendly one at that, so I ask you not be the fourth person this morning to panic if he decides to say hello - but I have created several constructs like him for multiple purposes."

Vale had spent many hours past curfew scouring the library for books that might help him. He found several books that would aid him in his research on self-enchantment, water magic, and transportation magic’s. But alas even the proud Dark Elf began to feel fatigue and made his way back to his room making sure to place the books carefully with in the medium-sized bag of holding on his hip. A very helpful tool indeed having one not having to worry about packing around a large back pack and the added benefit of the curse that was put on it paralyze any who tried to open it without the right touch. He had nearly committed the first few floors to memory before wandering back, finding his room untouched from where he left it.

The elf decided to meditate for the few hours he needed to in order to regain his focus. He glanced at the silver band around his right ring finger, with an old inscription of runes engraved in the polished surface. The ring was incredibly useful for him, turning what normally would take 4 hours of meditation to feel rested into 2 hours. Not only that, but he rarely found himself to be hungry.

Slowly he took off the light armor he wore laying it carefully on the desk he was provided and continued to strip till he wore nothing but a dark silk cloth around his waist. He rested his sword carefully across the top of the small dresser as he did this, only to retrieve it once more as well as a small bottle of blood and a dark crimson colored towel from his bag. He spent more than a few minutes dabbing the towel in blood and polishing the masterwork vorpal blade that now rested across his legs.

The sword was well-built by master smiths and enchanted by masters, imbued with dark magic and energy. The green glimmer to the blade shinned brightly as it was polished meticulously and slowly, the Dark Elf being careful of the bite of the edge. Always sharp and for him light and balanced the blade held a hunger for blood, Vale had noticed early on that the longer the sword went without a taste of blood he would in turn become more aggressive and impatient. It was always strange to him how this sword could quite possible have a mind of its own to influence his own emotions.

Before too much longer he found himself holding the sword out in front of him and meditating. As his body and mind rested he continued to play over the mission he was given again and again in his mind and why he was here. The vision of the priestess standing over him as he bowed and stood, the priestess Metissia who had over seen the final phase of his training and who he was tasked too. He remembered what she had said as she walked around him, she liked to pace as she spoke.

“Your orders are clear but you have some lenience with how you carry them out” she paused and looked at Vale who was standing straight and at attention like a good soldier. “Remember I need someone who can perform these things that I ask, continue this training at the tower and be careful. Failure is not acceptable.”

Vale only responded with a nod and a simple phrase, “Yes my lady” a simple informal acknowledgment.

“Good you have your orders Vale, now go gather your things and get out of my sight.” A simple order that he followed but before he could get out of the dark room she spoke again, “And do be careful would you. I have invested far too much influence and time into you for you to get killed or kicked out of that tower” her voice was soft and quiet, she was not there to be heard she was there to be listened too.

The Next Day

He had spent a bit longer than he thought meditating and was in the middle of getting dressed when another Raven propped open his door and slowly skipped in. Vale, anticipating this one to also be loud and obnoxious readied a small shot of dark magic to extinguish the bird if it did so. Yet it did not, it cooed a few times before hopping up onto his desk and watched him for a little while. He ignored the bird for a little while getting dressed as the bird continued to watch.

As he finished getting dressed the bird finally did something other than stare and coo. It unfolded into some kind of parchment that held his schedule? Or assignments? It seemed strange as he read through the list. He was pleased to learn that the high elf was not in his class and felt a bit off or really didn’t know how to feel about the Dark Elf Wizard who was teaching destructive arts. Vale doubted he was wanted or was a deserter, perhaps he was sent here to stay whatever the reason it was something he would have to look into later. For now, he was hungry and wanted something to eat as he headed towards the mess hall once more.

@MadManMoon

---

A familiar? And something that looked like some sort of reanimated bone spider. Isil's first reaction was one of curiosity. She reached a hand out, giving it a curious look as she pat it on the top of its head. It certainly wasn't an ordinary familiar, that was for certain.

"Oh my, isn't he a curious thing?" She chuckled. "Well, I'm not afraid of a simple spider. I'm more curious as to how exactly you've made him." She gave him a friendly smile before returning to the previous subject of her chosen school. She'd even let the spider crawl on her a bit, if it so desired.

"I can understand the headmistress' concerns, if that is indeed her reasoning." She replied with a sigh as she continued. "But, really, destruction magic is hardly so brutish as you make it out to be. Certainly, its not the most kindest of magics and it is a field of magic best used offensively, decisively, and directly as you say, but I see it as something a bit different." She placed a hand on her chin, thinking for a moment on the best way to phrase it. Whatever she said, it wasn't going to be a popular opinion for a High Elf no matter what, was it?

"I understand that healing arts are valuable, but often they can not solve all problems. Think of destruction magic as you would a sword or other weapon physical weapon. Instead of seeing them as bad, think of them as a tool to be used in defense of oneself and ones friends. If used responsibly, like any magic, destruction magic can be much better at protecting oneself than healing arts." She paused, shifting a bit uncomfortably. "Of course...that's...not really a popular opinion for a high elf to have, is it?" She laughed, sheepishly.

@Rune_Alchemist

---

"It's not," Silias said thoughtfully. "It's certainly an interesting viewpoint to have, High Elf or no..." He trailed off as Biblio, for his part, greatly appreciated the attention Isilfarrel gave him. The bone spider skittered over her robes, settling upon her shoulder as a comfortable perch.

"...personally, I have to agree with you. If one was hoping to protect oneself, destruction would be more useful as opposed to the healing arts. At least, if one used it in the usual sense." Silias focused his gaze away from Biblio to focus on Isilfarrel's eyes. "Indeed, it all comes down to the use of the magic in the end - as well as its user. How much power is necessary for what they need to do? How much more are they willing to use?"

Silias outstretched his arm, palm upwards. Biblio gently rubbed his side on the High Elf's neck, an affectionate gesture one would more commonly associate with a cat than a spider, before hopping into Silias' hand. As the familiar retreated into the sleeve of Silias' coat, the human broke the pause. "I honestly find this all fascinating. Perhaps later we can continue our discussion, possibly along with the teifling with whom you dined last night at the feast. And before you ask, the fact that you were also dining with the self-proclaimed Prince Shamir was the main reason it caught my eye." Silias's body language indicated staring off into the middle distance for a moment. "His willingness to share every detail about his background to literally everyone he entered into a conversation with has made him a bit of a celebrity."

He brought his focus back to the High Elf. "...anyways, I won't keep you preoccupied. I consider it a minor miracle that the Headmistress hasn't opened the door already, but I think it's probably time for that spell to run out of aether." Silias nodded his head respectfully. "Best of luck with your meeting, Mornelis."

He then began to walk past her to leave, and Biblio peeked out of his coat's collar to give a farewell wave to the elf.

@Legion02

---

To Alexander

The modest door labeled Master Lunilla slowly creaked open after some time. A tall thin woman with pale white skin stuck out her head and looked at the boy. Her forehead had a blue rune tattooed on her head, and her eyes were a deep crystal like sapphire color that glinted in the light. Her body was mostly hidden by the door, and her silver hair was mostly hidden behind a brown hood. A gentle aura surrounded her that made a sensation of calm fill the moment. Soon she spoke to the boy that attempted to get her attention in the first place.

"Um... Hello young one... Can I help you today?" She had a meek stance as she awaited an answer.

---

@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

To Granin

The door wasn't locked and was hinged loosely forcing it to open a sweltering heat, a smell of iron shavings and burning metal accompanied this heat. It was aforge. Loud clanking could be heard deep in the room, but the source was blocked by a massive collection of Armor and weaponry that glowed many different colors of light from swirling patterns or intricate works of art adorning the metal whenever they were close to being touched. On closer inspection many of the swords that could be seen had pommels that were instantly recognizable as being made of wood from the wooded hills of the lower nation dwarves to those who knew what to look for. The room felt somehow inviting, warm in a homely way, and a new smell of cooking ham and eggs began to accompany the fresh steel smell. From the inner parts of the room, a booming voice could be heard singing in conjunction with the rhythmic plinking.

---

Deep in the office a groan could be heard. Soon after there was a crashing, then another groan. Before long a light smacking sound could be heard before the door handle let out a loud "Chak" noise. An annoyed squeak was heard before another loud "chak", then another, until finally a third "clack" noise had the door slowly creak open and a little elderly otter in a small bowtie and little reading glasses stuck out his tiny head and gave a two note squeak that sounded very similar to a "Hello?"

“Uhm…h-hi?” Isil looked down at the small otter, once again not too impressed with the general atmosphere and care the staff here had showed so far. An otter of all things! As cute and adorable as they were, you did not have a cute otter come and wait on you and take care of your important business! Incompetent didn’t even begin to describe it. The elf cleared her throat before continuing. “You…are certainly not the headmistress.” Isil straightened her posture, exhaling in mild impatience. “Is the headmistress in? I would like to speak with her about my class assignments.”

The otter squeaked positively and gave a little paw wave to follow him. He led the elf into the office, still littered by papers everywhere covering bookshelves and glorious artifacts that would be impressive... If you could see it. The windows gave a wonderful view of the open sea, spanning the whole back wall of the room. There was a woman laying on the desk right in front of the window, small trinkets that looked unimpressive yet unusual littered the left side next to a small painting of a small girl and a kindly old man that could be recognized as the same an in the painting in the foyer. The otter approached the desk and gave a squeak. "What is it Jonathan?" The otter gave another small squeak. "What?" The otter responded with another brief chirp. The woman shot her head off the desk and looked at the elf girl, quickly giving a panicked flick of her finger and swiftly the papers all organized themselves in a maelstrom that made the room instantaneously clean again as if they were never there to begin with. The only sign of the mess left as the brief rattling of tea cups to their right and the now swinging metal balls clacking in the front of her desk. "Ahem" The head mistress sat up in her chair, her hair now done up proper though her eyes were still showed signs of exhaustion. "Please have a seat young Ms.Mornelis. Jonathan, the tea if you will." Her voice was gentle and collected.

Whatever she had been expecting, was once again completely shattered by the disorganized appearance of the room. Granted, she could understand getting a little carried away in one’s work and making a mess of things but you should never leave a mess behind. That was just…poor manners. Huh, at least the view was nice. Especially that window with a rather fantastic view of the ocean. For a very brief second, she wondered what It’d be like to sit in the chair herself, but dismissed the thought when she saw Lady Miatri passed out at her desk.

At least she could clean it up quickly.

“Mhm…that shan’t be necessary. I will try not to be long and I prefer to stand, but thank you regardless.” Unlike Miatri’s own voice, the young Elf’s own voice was much sterner and carried a hint of annoyance in it. “Restoration Classes.” The elf began, frowning. “I would assume you know I almost have zero skill in the restorative arts, as well as no desire to actually learn them. I request to be moved to a more suitable class at once.” Isil would at least attempt to be civil and not let her own temper and annoyance get the best of her…for now.

"Well. Just for me then Jonathan." The otter was already half way done pouring the second cup and looked at the headmistress as she spoke, lowering his head in disappointment when she addressed him a second time. "Well that can't be right, all high elves are naturally gifted to some degree in the restoration arts." She raised her hand and it began to glow a gentle gold color. "Even someone with diluted blood like myself." The otter brought over her tea, and she took it with a slight bow in thanks. She took a long drink, and then spoke again. "But if that is so... It cannot be undone easily now."

The elf frowned.

“What exactly do you mean it cannot be easily undone?” She questioned, eyes narrowing slightly. “I am quite aware of my people’s natural tendency for Restorative arts. It comes naturally to us no matter our origins.” There was a definite hint of disgust in her tone. “However, if it were those arts I wanted to learn, I would have stayed in Bistrial.”

"Is that so? From my sources it was my understanding that you were incredibly discredited in Bistrial for, shall we say,
less than agreeable opinions." The headmistress took a long drink from her tea.

“My history and the blindness of my kin are completely irrelevant!” The elf harshly replied, perhaps a bit too defensively as she motioned with an arm. Of course she’d know. There was really no way she wouldn’t know, was there, but she shouldn't let herself get so defensive about it. “Ahem” She took a brief second to collect herself. “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected any less from someone in your position.”

"'The blindness of my kin'..." Her tone was suddenly sharper, more judgmental as she leaned back in her chair with her tea, crossing her legs. "You certainly have a specific... View. Don't you? I may have been correct to think that some time with Master Liyva would do you good..." Her face lost all sense of warmth, beginning to feel there was something a bit more self serving in her intentions. "I agree there may be a lack of open mindedness in the leadership of Bistrial, but I do not think that you should dismiss your own kind's historical standings so lightly. There may be hidden reason in their views little elfling."

“And what historical standings are those?” Isil scoffed. “Sitting on their own passivity and weakness?” She leaned over, resting her hands on the headmistress’ desk. “I fail to see what reasoning of theirs can conclude that they not help others when they can except their own cowardice. If one could bring peace or help to another, then they should.” The elf fixed the headmistress with a stern gaze before shaking her head. None of this mattered, and she didn’t want to linger on any topic dealing with Bistrial or her own history.

“Tsk, we’re getting off subject. I take it I will be unable to convince you to change my classes?”

The Headmistress let out a deep sigh as a small porcelain clak came from her cup meeting it's saucer. "It's not that I'm not willing to change the subject of your study to fit your needs, but rather that it simply cannot be done so easily. The assigned students are distributed in such a way that the teachers will not be overwhelmed by the amount of students they have. As you know the Arcanium teaches hundreds of students, and lectures are open to anyone that wishes to go to them. To focus on individual students for evaluation and independent subject mastery is incredibly arduous efforts. Having even one extra student in their class means far too much attention than the teachers can pay to others taken away from the ones already there." She handed off her cup to the Otter assistant and he handed her a new cup, she stirred the cup carefully and reflected on the situation.

Isil frowned. She could understand that reasoning at least – even so, it was ridiculous to her. At least, shouldn’t the students be able to choose their own fields of study then, instead of having them told what they were going to be put in?

“I see.” Isil replied, straightening her posture. “I can understand that logic. It prevents things from getting over-crowded and eases the workload among the individual instructor. Then let me ask a question. Would it not be better for the student to choose the field of study as well as the master, then?” Isil fixed the headmistress with an inquisitive look as she folded her arms across her chest, lightly tapping the side of her arm with a finger.

The Headmistress gave a casual hrm noise as she shook her head slightly. "You really didn't learn anything in Bistrial did you? The world isn't a simple place little elfling. Conflicts arise, people hold hatred in their hearts, and while the Teachers here at the school are individuals sworn to the preservation and expansion of knowledge there are some who might hold more radical views." Her gaze drifted onto Isil for a moment then turned back to her tea. "These individuals may cause quarrels with their beliefs as a rationale to justify their actions or words. As you may come to understand, this can cause more than a few problems for all of us." The Headmistress put down her cup and drifted her hand over to the metal ball swing, still tapping back and forth through the conversation only to stop it before returning to a elbow supported resting position so she may place her chin on her hands. Her robes dropped down on the surface of her desk and settled around her elbows revealing her tender pale arms with a few aged scars. Her hands had a decent few as well, momentous from a her adventuring days. "Naturally you could understand that we'd want to avoid these potentially hectic scenarios. So we place the students in the classes that cover their stated interests on their application. The headmistress lifted her hand and a sheet shot out of one of her organization cabinets and into her hand. It was clearly Isil's application.

“What could I have learned?” Isil replied with a frown. “That my fellow elves have an irrational dislike for dark elves as well as are so unconcerned with the world outside the isles they blind themselves to it? And any young elf who dares speak out about it are basically laughed out of their respective fields if they open a serious discussion?” It was easy enough to realize what the headmistress was speaking of with that comment about racial identities. She herself had no dislike for any race – as long as they were useful or skilled…there was no reason to hate one based on what they were. That was ridiculous. She glanced over at the application the headmistress presented her. Of course, it said ‘Restoration’ written on it. She sighed, shifting her hands to her hips again.

“Perhaps I should have written Alteration instead.” Truthfully, she could only blame herself for this little…mishap. Realistically speaking? Compared to most people at the Arcanium she only had gained an interest in magic in the past year or two and still had quite a bit to learn regarding what magic fell under what school. She liked to think she was skilled in the actual application of it, but even so, she was no expert “Mhm. Then there is nothing to be done? I must shift my own personal focus with that of another set of skill and hamper my own progress – need I say that is already slowed by my own heritage?”

The head mistress let out a long sigh, dealing with young elves was always so difficult... She laid the paper on the desk and spoke softly to herself. "You are so misguided young one..." She looked up to her and spoke to her once again. "If it bothers you so much, there is something that can be done. If you find a new master that has open spaces to teach you, or if you can find a student willing to switch with you then you may exchange your class." She turned the chair to face the right, recrossing her legs and picking her tea up once again.

“Mis…guided?” Isil narrowed her eyes at the headmistress. “…I am not sure what you mean by that, but I doubt I would agree.” If it was as simple as finding someone to switch with her, then it’d be easy. Kyvir. She could just order him to change their classes. That said…that would require a bit of thought to go through with. Kyvir would undoubtedly be exceptionally skilled with destructive arts. He already had some training with them, at least.

“But…very well, I will take this into consideration.”

The head mistress turned and faced the windows and spoke without looking at the young elf, "Is that all you needed Ms.Mornelis?"

“Mhm.” She sighed. “Yes that will be all, Headmistress. Thank you for the consideration.” With a polite bow, Isil left the headmistress’ office. She hadn’t gotten what she wanted exactly, but she was used to working for her goals. This would be no different. She would need a bit of time to consider her options, but switching with Kyvir would be the easiest…

As the elfling left her office she waved her hand over a small square scrap of paper. It twitched with a blue aura for a moment, and then began to move sharply into folded shapes eventually forming a small paper beetle. "Keep an eye on her, take note of every book she reads here at the Library." The beetle flew it's way to the entrance of the room and crawled under the door. The headmistress let out a long exhausted sigh and sank into her chair, the Otter let out a small questioning squeak tone. The headmistress shook her head and placed her fingers on her temples. "She shows such promise... I hope it won't have to come to that..." She began to recline back into her chair as Jonathan began to squeak a reply, only to find that half way into his prolonged ottery wisdom she had drifted off into sleep. The otter looked at her for a moment, his whiskers twitching in contemplation of what had just transpired. He drew the curtains to keep the sun off his friend, and diligently he began to pick up her used cup that was now growing cold in it's prolonged abandonment.

So the Master of Enchanting's room was actually a forge? He supposed that made sense, if you gave it a few moments of thought. What better way to test your abilities than with fresh, well-made gear? That also removed the necessity of getting gear from an outside source.

Taking a few measured steps inside, Garanin took a look around, taking in the sights a bit more. Myriad pieces of armor and weaponry stood in his presence, glowing with magical energy as he neared them. "Now that's somethin'...." Garanin murmured as he looked over a particularly fine suit of mail that had caught his eye. "Ah, if only..." Breaking from his digression, Garanin made his way towards the source of the singing, a tune he knew as well as any elf would know vanity or any human would know....whatever it was humans knew. They were an odd sort.

"It feels like it's been ferever since I heard that song. Good ta get a lil' feelin' ah home." Garanin called out as the forge came into view.

@Spirit

Isabel felt into her slept with her head resting on her hand. Her breath starts to descend into a small and constant rhythm that echoing in the small room. And outside the hall, were sparsely lights that are desperate to fill the grand hallway with its brightness. And silence filled the hall, painted everything with its strange atmosphere. But for someone at the Arcanium, their mind had reach somewhere unreal and unbound by this mortal realm.
She found herself wandering in the Unknown, seeing columns that itself pierce the sky above her head. Each of those columns was bigger than the Arcanium, and on it was thousand of deep lines that formed unknown letters, runes, and images. But these gigantic columns are not the only thing that is spectacular at this place.Above her, the sky was without its mysterious veil, showing its beauty with thousands if not millions of starts decorated across the night sky. The constellation with various name in various cultures shaped the vivid images across the night sky. Suddenly, a strong wind blew through her place, sending her off from this spectacle night. But the woman, although delicate seems unaware of her inevitable death as she is going to use her body to paint the enormous column with her flesh. She desperately tried to hold on something, only to be cut by small pebbles in the wind. She shed her tears, only to be engulfed by the ember in it. And she bleeds with the one, giving it life. Only for the harsh storm to increase its speed. And it turned, encircle like a serpent before heading straight to the largest and tallest column. But the woman, although delicate seems unaware of her inevitable death as she is going to slam the enormous column with her body. And then, there was nothing. Only the howling serpent traveling in this magnificent word.

---

Isabel opened her eyes because of the constant knocking noise coming from the wooden. Slowly, Isabel lifted herself up from the table and reach the wooden door, only to see a paper. On it, were her class and her teacher. Apparently, the Headmistress had decided to assign her in “Magical Application Class” by Mistress Lunillia, a Master in Rune Application. Thinking about all the knowledge that she can absorb from her head teacher excited Isabel a little bit, giving there is now a small smirk across her face. Despite her excitement for what her new teacher, Isabel still take her time to dress in her casual black dress and heading to the Hall to have a small breakfast, before going to her head teacher class and relieved that apparently, she was not late for her first class. Isabel hardens her fist and takes a deep breath before knocking on the door. The door was hard and heavy, like her heart right now, uncertain of what is going to come next.

@MULTI_MEDIA_MAN

---

The man that was singing slowly came into view through a clutter of tools and items that adorned a workbench before the corner turn, he was black haired with a deep booming voice and as the song would have suggested he was indeed a dwarf. There was an anvil to the left of a large flaming pit next to a modestly sized brick chimney fitted so that it all came together to create a functioning yet impressive forge. It's heat could be felt full force upon turning the corner that would make anyone not accustomed to the sweltering heat want to derobe almost entirely just to cool their bodies. The anvil had a runemark on it and the top was blazing red as a very traditional dwarven breakfast of hashed browns, eggs, steak, bacon, and large sausages cooked in a massive quantity next to a pile of 15 slices of overly crisped toast that would likely be hard and unpleasant to eat. The method of cooking would leave a slight taste of fire and metal on the tongue, certainly ruining the food for most people. Just like the cooking of the warband back in the dwarven woodlands.

As Garanin spoke and cut off the song, the man stopped singing and turned to face him. His beard was about mid length, face covered in ash and soot with his nose thin and defined leading to a very kind looking face. The man laughed a warming booming laugh at the sight of another dwarf and quickly pounded a fist to his left shoulder still holding a metal clamp with a orange glowing piece of metal in it's grasp, shooting sparks onto the eggs behind him as his fist met his shoulder. "Hail Brother! It is an interesting day indeed to see another Dwarf walk through these doors!" He tucked the clamp in between his arm and his side and extended his blackened hand, rough and strong as would be expected from long experienced worker.

---

@Spirit

---

After leaving the headmistress' room, Isil made her way to the cafeteria and baths. After having that little conversation, she was feeling in a less than a little sociable. A little frustrated, really. Always had to have things the hard way, didn't it? Could just ever get what she wanted and deserved. Always just had to go about it the hard way. Well, that was fine. She wasn't going to complain about a little extra work. She'd excel with whatever was thrown at her, like always. She had a good reputation to keep up anyways, with the students at least.

Hm, at least being good at healing would give her a good reputation among students, perhaps? A good healer was likely to be trusted. Perhaps she could use this to her own advantage. Well, whatever waited for her in this healing class, she would do whatever she needed too. After she was done with breakfast and a nice warm bath, she finally headed to the classrooms, making sure to take her staff with her.

Soon enough, she found the appropriate room. So she waited, wondering how exactly this 'Mistress of the Healing arts' would be. If she was anything - anything at all - like the high elves back in the Isles...she might just leave the Arcanium altogether. She wasn't sure she could handle being taught by them again. Fools.

"E-erm, hello?" She asked. "This is Mistress Liyva's class, is it not?"

Garanin's response to the other dwarf's greeting was nearly immediate. He stopped, adjusted his posture, and pounded his own left shoulder once. Carefully pulling one of his gauntlets off to properly greet the man, Garanin grabbed the offered hand and gave it a hearty shake. "Aye, that it is, Brother! I was worryin' I'd be one a' the only dwarves in this blasted place! Though I s'pose it figures that the Grand Enchanter bears the Gift, after all."

Taking a step back after the handshake and wiping his already-sweating brow with an arm, Garanin spent another moment looking around, admiring the works on display as he replaced the gauntlet on his hand. As hot as the forge was, it wouldn't do to mess about with all of his gear and end up burning himself on it due to the heat of the forge. That was what padding was for, after all.

"It looks like ah'm the first to arrive? So...how exactly does this whole thing work?"

@Spirit