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Temple of Myth [IC]


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OoC, please read

Academy of Wand

As the pair of Welsh girls returned to their dormitory, they encountered a blue-eyed Eorida girl, no older than either of them and slightly shorter than either, apologizing furiously in English.

"My apologies, my ladies!" She bowed, averting her blue eyes by bowing her head. "Had I known you'd return to your room so soon, I'd have cleaned it faster . . . I plead your mercy!" It was almost humorous how utterly terrified she was of two girls her own age, and she shivered as if the room had suddenly been struck by a blizzard.

Her homespun, rough clothing was identified by a hastily sewn-on patch- a maid of the Academy, and likely a new one given that the patch on her clothing wasn't worn threadbare and that the fabric she wore could still be vaguely identified as standard peasant garb.

As for the room itself, she'd done a mostly passable job- the beds were still unmade, and the higher shelves of the Academy-provided armoire were flecked with dust, but honestly, given that she was evidently cleaning a dormitory three times the size of her own home without help, the fact that she'd managed so much in two hours (without magic, given her lack of anything that could be called a focus) was impressive.


In the common area, a small-scale war was going on between the students, and in the chaos it was easy to forget that the Headmistress had yet to return.


Academy of Sword

As incoming students were allowed to return to their dormitories, Professors from around the all-boys Academy on the western side of the Isle met in the Astronomy tower.

^Westwood . . . you're late,^ the Headmaster said dryly.

"My apologies, sir. I was . . . fascinated . . . by a new student. A wind mage from an influential family. A French boy with a definitive interest in Dark magic . . . as a sidebar, I request to tutor him personally," the Englishman said with a small, nigh-unnoticeable smirk.

//We've no time for your idiocy, you lowborn cur.// A Byzantine growled from across the room. //The Trifles are pushing north. One of the archery students in the Academy of Wand wounded one the other day, and just this morning one of the little blue demons escaped into the forest.//

*Chased by the Wand Headmistress,* another calmed his Greek compatriot. *It's likely already been slain, its corpse tied to her . . . generous hips. However, even I must agree that the Trifles are becoming an increasing issue.*

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Westwood growled. "I am but a lowborn guildmaster's son, remember? Why don't you Dukes and Earls put up a barrier of fire to keep them out?"

^Calm yourself. We called you here to request your expertise on a soul-eating barrier,^ The Headmaster said softly. ^That's powerful Dark magic, and you are arguably the most accomplished Dark mage any of us have knowledge of, both practically and in theory.^

At this, the younger man simply laughed. "A Dark barrier around the entire city, and both Academies? I may be among the best in my year, but I am only one man. At that scale, I would require a small army of people at least competent in Dark magic, and the assurance that no petulant brat would cross that line and leave me at the mercy of his noble father."

^How big could the barrier be, under your own power?^ The Headmaster pressed on, quite desperate to protect as many people as possible.

"I could . . . protect one of the Academies," Westwood sighed, "but anyone who walked in or out would immediately fall unconscious and lose their ability to cast any variety of magic for hours. It's too big a risk to take."

^No risk is too big if it keeps my students safe.^
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