17-year-old Avera Ibori is a girl who has always longed for a life of adventure, but when her father mysteriously vanishes, she gets more of it than she can stand. Thrown into a hidden world of magic, intrigue, corruption, and kings, Avera must choo...
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A week had passed since he had received his apprenticeship. From early morning until late into the evening, he attended to Lord Blackridge and his needs. His time was filled with meetings, hearings, inspections, and various matters of state, which, on this particular occasion, meant piles and piles of paperwork.
Kelvin sat sorting the papers as Blackridge read through them, writing out the replies.
'It's funny... this work is all so political. I would've expected the position of Archmage to be a little more magical.'
He stared at the piles of assorted papers. There were so many of them - hirings, promotions, demotions, firings, transfers, reports, commendations, assignments, propositions, debriefings, witness statements... he shook his head.
'I guess that's why we have so many lesser mages.' He lifted the next sheet from his stack and noticed the name written on it. 'Even Lord Kallida reports to him.'
"I think we ought to call it a night," Blackridge announced, setting the paper he was reading back on the desk and removing his glasses. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. "Everything's beginning to look the same," he told him.
"I understand, sir," Kelvin told him. "I'm not quite there, myself, but I admit that I have been doing considerably less reading. Howbeit, the papers are... well, mostly stacked."
"I do appreciate you staying," Blackridge assured him. "It can be hard with these long hours, and you do help me a great deal."
The door slid open and they both turned to look. A young man in a guard's uniform wearing a mage's cloak stood in the doorway and solemnly entered. He was a handsome man of fine stature with pale green eyes. His skin was ivory and his platinum hair fell to the bottoms of his shoulder blades.
Kelvin watched him with intensely. 'He must be a mage-royal, but why would the King send one of his personal servants?'
"Mage-royal Charlenade, to what do we owe the visit?" Blackridge asked him.
"My Lord the King is troubled. He lies awake restless. He cannot sleep. Lord Blackridge, it is my duty to summon you for an audience with the King. Lord Kallida and Captain Zahaynei have been sent for, also. You will meet in the throne room, immediately," Charlenade stated, his voice and countenance void of any emotion.
Kelvin looked to Blackridge. 'He doesn't seem bothered by it.' He smiled, relieved.
"Very well," Blackridge told him. "Tell the King we will make haste to come to him."
'We...! Does that mean he plans on taking me with him?'
"As you wish," the man replied. He turned to walk away, but stopped by the threshold of the door. "Candles, Lord Blackridge?"
"Yes, what of them?"
"It is unusual to say the least," the man replied. "When you could be using maurium or a simple illumination spell, you choose to work by candlelight, instead. And fire. Correct me, but are candles not generally used by-"
