Destined Chaos

Chapter 1

The day that the courier arrived at Cristoff's home was perhaps the happiest of his life. He was a shrewd, bald man with a simple letterbag and traveling boots spattered with mud from several leagues of an undoubtedly harsh journey. As Lockwood was several miles south of the capital, many merchants and traders were reluctant to attempt traversing the annoying marshes and quagmires. Once past those, the town was fairly comfortable with plenty of hunting ground for miles around and surprisingly fertile farmland. As the courier approached the front door, Cristoff swung it open, a giddy look on his face while bouncing on his heels.

    "Did I get accepted? What did it look like? How high were the walls—"

    "Look, boy," the courier groaned, stressfully wiping the dirt-speckled sweat from his brow. "I'm not here to make small talk, just to deliver the letter. It was certainly nicer than this dung heap of a territory." He smoothly removed a sealed envelope from the bag, and Cristoff snatched it quicker than a snake would a field mouse. Without replying, he rushed back into the house and hastily shut the door behind him, already tearing off the official wax seal of the Imperial Academy.

    "It's finally here, huh?"

    Cristoff turned to the stairs, seeing his mother standing there in the stained dress that she wore for tidying the house. Her frizzy yet curly hair billowed down to her back, her freckled face gleaming as she smiled at him. "Well, don't wait for me, hurry and open it."

He nodded excitedly, sliding out the clean slip of parchment and unfolding it.

To the honorable Cristoff Stenval who resides in the southern territory of Lockwood: As Grand Sorcerer of the Imperial Academy, I, Lord Gevias, have officially reviewed your application for entrance into the academy. Based on the description of your anomaly that you have provided, I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as an apprentice sorcerer into the Imperial Academy. As the deadline for integration is coming to a close, I recommend beginning your travels as soon as possible. Please bring as few belongings as possible, as most essentials such as clothing and study material will be provided free of charge. We welcome you in the name of King Oswald and hope to see you soon.

His mother had snuck behind him and read all this as well, and she cheered with excitement, wrapping him into a crushing embrace. Cristoff was completely stunned with happiness that he had been accepted. "I can't believe it," he muttered, his stone-cold expression turning into the widest grin he had ever made. "I'm truly an official sorcerer now. . ."

"We can pay for a carriage for the trip tonight," his mother immediately said, rushing back and forth through the kitchen happily. "Your father will be so proud. To think we have the honor of having an academy sorcerer as one of our sons!" She shrieked with glee, jumping up and down.

"Mother," said Cristoff, his tone becoming more serious. "With my anomaly, do you think it's enough?"

She turned to him, laughing lightly. "Of course! Why wouldn't it be?"

Cristoff looked down at his hand. Mustering all his will, he desired for his anomaly to manifest. With a gleaming red flash, a massive sword was summoned, the hilt dropping into his palm. Were it his first time, the weight of the sword would have smashed into the floor, but he had grown accustomed to its weight, so holding it with one hand wasn't much of a problem for him anymore. The blade itself was unlike any other seen throughout the kingdom; being a bit less than a foot wide, his father often commented that it was a weapon fit for a demon, and being six feet long made it even more unique. The blade gleamed white and the red leather-wrapped hilt did actually seem to be long enough for a massive demon hand to hold. This sword, though it hadn't ever been useful to him, was the most important thing he had ever possessed. As they weren't natural born sorcerers, his parents knew hardly any magic, so it was a big deal that Cristoff had been given an anomaly, something only sorcerers were typically blessed with.