I stood in the entry hall of my guild, the honorable and esteemed Keelwell Enchanters Guild. The atrium was full of students and masters, with several masters attending as guests of another mage guild. While it was not against mage custom to have other guilds present at trials, it was extremely rare for this to occur when trials involved the relatively low-stakes advancement from apprentice to journeyman. Such guests were more likely to attend master or grandmaster trials.
Eyes flashed between me and a large, enchanted clock mounted on the wall behind the guild administrator’s desk. The guild administrator for our hall was Master Elon Pudge. Ironically, despite his name, he was a thin mage of great age who had served in this role for the past century. He was a good, albeit impatient administrator, but had seen a dozen guild masters come and go under his lengthy tenure.
The hour hand struck 9:00 a.m., and a musical chime began. Just as murmurs started, the front door flew open, and a yellow-robed enchanter, riding a flying carpet, entered.
The mage was old but immaculately dressed and groomed. He radiated power and confidence. He was not someone to cross. And you could tell he knew it. A large floating book was open before him, and he read it with focused attention.
The carpet came to a rest before the administrator’s desk, but the mage remained seated until the ninth bell rang. At that point, he closed the book and stood at the front of the desk before the echo of the clock’s chimes died away.
His voice could be heard clearly across the chamber as he said, “Master Ichabod Horatio Aloicious Drammult here to present my credentials for the trials of some apprentice whose name I never bothered to learn, student of Master Glimmerblade. I have business in the capital and hope to be on my way soon.”
Some heated mumbling around the room was interrupted by a loud guffaw. All eyes turned to Master Glimmerblade, who had laughed and said, “It is so nice to see you as well, my old schoolmate. How long did you practice that little performance? You nuanced it perfectly.”
The other mage glared at Glimmerblade, furious at being quickly upstaged upon entering his hated rival’s guild hall. As he opened his mouth to speak, Glimmerblade raised his hands. “But you are in a hurry. The other two adjudicators have already given their credentials as permitted by customs. We await only your own so we can get started.”
Master Drammult’s jaw worked back and forth, but seeing no easy retort, he nodded, walked over to the yellow floating orb, and placed his hand upon it.
An unearthly and deep male voice stated loud enough for all present to hear, “Lord Master Ichabod Horatio Aloicious Drammult, Knight of the Realm, Keeper of Keys, Arcana Scribe, Bearer of the Mystical Chalice, Administrator of the Capital Enchanter Guild Hall.”
Some of the older mages nodded in recognition of the honors he had earned, and a few nodded in respect, which he seemed to relish.
Master Glimmerblade’s voice rang out once more. “And since we wish to keep this session timely, and all adjudicators are present, the guild asks that the apprentice for trials present his credentials before being permitted entry to chambers.”
It was my time.
I walked forward and placed my hand on the orb.
Once more, an unearthly voice rang out across the room, loud enough for all present to hear, “Hereditary Lord Gwydion Istari, Treble Patron, High Honors, Sharkslayer, Apprentice of the Keelwell Enchanter Guild Hall.”
My father was made a lord when he was granted the title and office of Royal Librarian. As his only child and son, I was a hereditary lord. My grades were at the top of my class, so I earned high honors. The final title was new, and I earned it this morning after defeating Old Sergeant. I didn’t realize that an unsought quest would qualify as a special distinction recognized by the orb.
The Treble Patron title meant I was a patron, or prodigy, in three guild-accepted fields. In my case, while not known to many, they were magical jewelry crafting, magical gem crafting, and magical socket crafting. It was a rare honor. According to Master Glimmerblade, it had never before been held by an enchanter to his knowledge.
The enchanter’s seven classical fields from which patronages may be earned included armor, exotica, gems, jewelry, magestaff, sockets, and weapons. There were also many modern areas we called disciplines to separate them from the traditional fields, but the guild orb for patron status does not include these disciplines.
Needless to say, a prodigy in a single field was both rare and a gift to the hall. I had three. And while I tended to dismiss the attention because I knew my many faults and shortcomings, it was at times like this when the honor was deeply appreciated.
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All eyes turned to Master Drammult, awaiting his response.
He stood still. It was clear that he had not expected to be upstaged by his rival’s student. A look came over his face when he stared at me, which I did not care for, and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up in warning.
But it passed in an instant. To those assembled, he turned and said, “Well, well, quite the surprise and such a welcome gift. I did not expect much from such a remote and provincial guild hall. You must all be very proud of this apprentice.”
The students and masters murmured under their breaths. They did not appreciate the backhanded compliment of their prized student or the thinly veiled insult directed at them and the city.
Master Glimmerblade laughed again. “It warms the heart to see you charmed by our little community.” He turned to me, and once more, I was on stage. “Please lead us into chambers, apprentice, into the judgment hall.”
My master turned to all present. “All are welcome to join us who have reached journeyman rank or above. Others will have to await final judgment here, or you may retire to your rooms or studies as you prefer. Our guests will follow behind the three adjudicators whom the journeyman supplicant will lead. All others may follow without privilege of rank.”
His last remark allowed everyone to join as they wanted and not be followed in a long line based on rank, age, and accomplishment. I knew that the courtesy would irritate a few of the older masters. Still, my master chose to follow a more recent custom designed to prevent squabbling among attendees about who outranked whom and start the entire affair on a sour note.
My master had told me he would do this and direct any initial ire toward himself. He also encouraged me to get some journeymen or young mages up front so they had good seats and to bring my backup plan along in case things went south.
Master Drammult noticed that two of the younger mages, both journeymen, carried a silk-wrapped object with the unavoidable impression of being a mage staff. He looked at me and then shrugged his shoulders. If it were a part of my trials, by convention, if not by rule, I should have carried it in.
He was no doubt wondering what it could represent, but asking such a question would have been inappropriate and could have caused him more embarrassment.
I led the procession through the main hallway and down a winding staircase to the lower level, just above the storage rooms. It was not a large room b,ut was designed to seat up to one hundred comfortably. Nearly double that entered the room; it was quickly standing room only. Other than the benches in tiered circles around the room, only three chairs were placed, and those were for the adjudicators who sat before a long marble table.
I moved to stand in the center of the room, in a recessed circular depression surrounded by a glowing yellow border. I took three steps down to stand in the middle. The space where I stood could also hold a guild prisoner on trial for his life. Such things were exceedingly rare, but sitting in judgment in this room was a solemn occasion no matter the purpose.
The three adjudicators walked up three steps onto a platform where each sat and stared at me across an engraved stone table.
My master took the center seat. Master Drammult took the seat on his left. And the third judge, the outside guild member, took the seat to my master’s right after a brief hesitation. By convention, Master Drammult should have taken the seat to my master’s right. Instead, he had moved to the left seat, deliberately making a statement that he would behave like an external and unaffiliated mage rather than a member of the enchanter guild faculty. And so the remaining mage, Master Draconis, emeritus guildmaster of the wizard guild, dressed in his finest white robes, sat in the chair to the right of the apprentice’s master.
If an old master wizard sent up alarm bells with Master Drammult, he hid it well. Outside of their guild promotion ceremonies, wizards rarely sat in judgment unless the accused was on trial for his life. Their power and imperial influence were not to be trifled with. A minor trials ceremony involving an apprentice's promotion was hardly worthy of such attention. I knew there was more at stake here than they had informed me, but I did not understand what it was. My master told me to stay focused, not to rise to Master Drammult’s insults, and to remember that I always represented my master and my guild hall.
My master picked up a thin glass rod and gently tapped it against a silver bell on the table before him. A loud chime reverberated throughout the room, and several mages flinched or covered their ears. The same magical device could subdue the mage standing in the center circle or everyone in the room, other than the protected adjudicators on the dais. Intent and the mage’s will affected the chime’s magical effects, and the loudness of the ring hinted at my master’s irritation.
My master spoke. “Apprentice Gwydion Istari, what do you seek from your guild?”
“I seek trials.”
“And for what do you seek trials?” He intoned in a ritualistic voice.
“For promotion from apprentice to journeyman.”
“And who supports his right to seek trials for promotion?”
The elderly administrator shuffled forward. “On behalf of the guild master, master of students, and faculty of masters, I, Administrator Grandmaster Elon Pudge, support this apprentice’s candidacy for journeyman.”
Seeing Grandmaster Pudge speak on my behalf warmed my heart. Given his age and spotty health, he rarely appeared at these events. He nodded and winked at me. Then, he gave Master Drammult a deep frown and backed away.
Master Drammult had insulted the honor of the guild hall, which is why Grandmaster Pudge had made his way down here to stand in support of me. He was arguably the most famous enchanter alive today despite being in what Master Drammult had labeled a backwater city.
Master Drammult had some credible achievements announced by the orb, but if the grandmaster administrator had stood before the orb, we would have been left waiting for a while; so many were his realm and guild acclaims over the past hundred fifty years.
A mage could remove his hand from the orb immediately after it had identified him. Leaving it on the orb a few moments longer, as both Master Drammult and I had done, allowed the orb to launch into titles and recognitions. Mages could depart the guild hall as they wished, but entering required everyone to submit to the orb. It would be annoying if every mage had to sit through every title and recognition each time they entered, so most just removed their hand after proper identification occurred.
Keelwell is one of the furthest cities from the capital and is surrounded by the wilds, but it is also the second-largest city in the realm. It was hardly a backwater while you remained in the city. However, it does get rough quickly once you go outside those gates, as I discovered both south in the bay and north in a simple copse of pines.
My master rang the bell again, touching it more gently but still producing a significant effect. “The candidate has presented his request and has received guild support and recognition. Let the supplicant present his case.”
I bowed deeply to my master first, to Master Drammult second as a ranking enchanter, and then to the guest adjudicator, Wizard Draconis.
It was time…
