co-written with Nox Grimoire
"Gre..ahem..Greetings," He managed to stammer. "Arathys Menenon here for admission..."
Cildran Hall was a cavernous building, the university’s largest, with an open view of the ceiling some seven stories above the ground floor. From his vantage point, Arathys could see people, no less than a hundred, he thought, moving from room to room on the floors above.
Cildran was the only university building open to the public, which meant that the people of Teres were welcome to explore its halls, visit its classrooms, and browse the tomes of its library. The Cildran Archives were not nearly the size of the Stacks under the Tower of Terwen, which held some ten times ten thousand books, and possessed not nearly the same depth of content, but it was certainly something. People from all over Northmarch came to avail themselves of its resources.
It was a busy morning on Cildran's first floor, with dozens of prospective students crowding the halls alongside the mix of arcanists, current students, and upper class Teresians with the leisure to visit. The admissions clerks, three of them, sat behind a long, tall desk, about chest high to the visitors, and each one was busy processing the enrollment of the incoming students. It was nearing the end of the month, Arathys overheard, and the College's enrollment period would soon end. This must have explained the number of people present.
The admissions clerk, a wiry woman of sharp features and pale complexion, considered the mage from above through a pair of over-sized spectacles. She pushed them up her nose. “Well, you’re just about on time. Open enrollment lasts through the 32nd of Kindling.” It was the 28th of the month that day. “Are you already registered, Mr.. . . ?” she asked, prompting him for a name.
"M..Menenon," He replied. "Arathys Menenon. And no, I'm not registered" His mouth was dry and his hands were clammy. He couldn't believe that he was so late in the enrollment cycle. But then, when he'd arrived in Teres, it hadn't exactly been his intention to enroll at all. It was more or less a whim, at the direction of his old master, that he stood here now. Now he only hoped that he didn't bungle it. "So, how does this this work?" He asked nervously. "Is..is there some sort of test, or..."
"Hm." The admissions clerk pulled open a drawer and drew from it a small stack of parchment, which she passed to him across the desk. "Please fill this out, legibly. I will see if we have someone on hand to interview you." With that, she got up and left, walking through a door behind the desk into a back office of some sort.
The paperwork was not particularly interesting. It involved basic warranties and representations about the applicant's name, age, race, place of origin, and so on, the stuff of a bureaucrat's design. There was a section that requested a description of the applicant's magical aptitude, which was more interesting, and a few lines that requested a brief "statement of interest," which Arathys could correctly deduce invited some comment on why he was applying to the Teresian College of Wizardry and what he wished to accomplish here.