Lament of a Noble Born

“You’re late.”

“I am neither early nor late, I arrive exactly when I intend to,” Narsis noted as he brushed past the scowling bat and took his seat next to his fellow Lectors. He quickly scooped up a filled glass held out by a servant and took a long sip, letting the sweet wine wash down his throat.

After five millennia of experience, it could be said that Lector Narsis Bright-Hearth was living the magister dream. He graduated from Dath’Remar with top honors. He achieved the rank of magister at two hundred and fifty; the youngest to ever achieve the rank at that time. Was granted the title of Grand Magister by his Majesty, King Teldean Sunstrider. Served the kingdom at said post for a thousand years. Retired at the age of three thousand. Came out of retirement to help teach the first humans magic on the orders of King Anasterian. Then took up his current post, one of four Lectors at Dath’Remar five hundred years ago out of sheer boredom.

Because of that, once a year he was roped into observing the yearly practical exam.

If he was going to be stuck with a minagre of children for the next few hours, he was going to make sure he was properly drunk.

“Isn’t it a bit early,” Ferenris, the straight-laced man he was, raised an eyebrow as he looked at Narsis drinking moments after arriving.

“Indeed, it is. I would have had this menagerie happen at a much more reasonable time, such as the early evening.” Narsis ignored the exasperated look he got in response.

Oh yes, for the next few hours, he, the old bat Lybiota, the goody two shoes Merill, the aforementioned Ferenris, and old Headmaster Kernwood, would be appraising the skills of the final few children who made it this far into the exam.

He took another long sip, emptying the glass in a single gulp. Narsis raised the glass to signal a nearby servant for a refill.

The portal had just opened as he took his seat, and the crowd of children soon followed the proctor as they entered the amphitheater.

Many of them look so soft, too plump. Fattened up by a lifetime of ease and comfort. While enjoying comfort was not a crime of itself, it would be hypocritical of him seeing as he had a large mansion, numerous villas across the kingdom, and was not the picture of health himself. But he was rich, old, and powerful. Therefore, he could do whatever he wanted.

These children had yet to prove themselves, yet they walk about as if the world owes them something. They look at Narsis and his compatriots expecting to be applauded for merely existing.

A few children did stand out of the crowd.

He spotted the Emberbirth girl amongst the throngs of people, her white hair making her stand out. She stood tall and walked with conviction, no sign of the frailty or weakness he heard some at court whisper about. There was even a bit of fear in her eyes as she gazed across the stage provided to them. Good, being afraid means you’re not stupid enough to think you are invincible.

And, of course, the Coldwater heiress with her bright blue shoulder cape that all Coldwaters seemed predisposed to always wear. While she seemed to tick all of the negative traits he had seen in many of the other children, proud, boastful, vain, cruel in a childlike way, she differed in that she seemingly had the power to back it up. A horrid combination if he’s ever seen it. Narsis also refused to believe the Lord and Lady Coldwater would allow the family name to be insulted by poor showing from the house’s heiress. Time would tell if her confidence was a warranted, or a flaw.

Out of all of them, there was one last child that caught his eye. Young girl. Blonde. Her robes were decent enough. She was terrible at hiding her expressions, eyes wide at the chamber’s surroundings. To be fair, she wasn't the only one. But whereas the other children looked to the balcony where he and the other lectors were seated, she did not. No, her gaze shifted to the far end of the chamber. Head tilted to the side, as if trying to see something.

Interesting. He had no doubt she was looking directly at the royal booth; obstructed from sight by enchantments and spell work.

Whether she could actually see the booth or if she merely noticed the enchantments he couldn't say. The spells were quite intricate. But they did not make the booth invisible, merely hid it from common sight.

No need to get the children nervous about who was watching them.

Speaking of children, he chuckled to himself. Narsis pooled mana into his eyes to peer into the booth. Yes, the royal booth was packed to the brim with such people.

And such individuals they were! All the choreography. All the set up. Hell, he could only imagine listening to the damn roll call before they raised the illusion. In years past, the whole thing was enough to make him yearn to drink himself under the proverbial table if to be spared from their incessant cawing and preening.

His excellency, Lord so and so, master of the arcane and whatever magical talent he actually had. Following him was her ladyship, Magistrix something or other, mistress of some plot of land no one has ever heard of at the edge of the kingdom. After her was his lordship, Magister something something, master of something. He was sure it was something; if the length of the introduction was anything to go by.

Narsis couldn't even bring himself to pretend he heard much after the first dozen or so in such circumstances.

And don't even get him started on that circus called seating!

Even without having seen it first hand, he knew how this sort of thing went. Seating arrangements in high society were akin to a game of dancing chairs than a layout with any rational sense. All posturing. All about being so closer or so far away. This lord did not want to be seen sitting before his rival at court. Another lord and lady must be seated close to one another, but never more than a foot near each other. There were two families that hated one another, so the servants needed to put them at opposing ends. Another set of families can keep up the veneer of civility, but only if they are both seated equidistant to a third family they are both courting and have line of sight on one another at all times. Who knows what lies could be told if they lost sight for even a second!

Of course this is before they actually started talking!

The faux passes. The snide remarks. My great grandfather did this. My ancestor did that. My child is better than your child! Ughh. If he wanted to sit down for the better part of the day and listen to parents preen about their children in passive aggressive jabs aimed at one another he'd just have an open house for his students' parents.

At the center of it all, of course, was his Majesty, King Anasterian. Surrounded by only his closest courtiers and the royal guards. A single beacon of calm amidst the sea of ravenous vipers and equally ravenous, if incompetent, gophers.

His Majesty has observed every practical exam for the past one thousand years; ever since he allowed the Academy to host the exams in the depths of the royal palace itself. He wasn’t sure what the royal guard though to hosting people in the heart of their liege’s domain, thereby bypassing all the layered defenses within the palace grounds, but the King does as the King wishes. And the King wished to give his basement over to the exam.

And so it was.

During that first exam, it was just his Majesty, her Majesty the Queen, several close friends, and a handful of royal guards. They didn't even have an illusion to obstruct his majesty from view, or more likely his Majesty didn’t account for how his presence might intimidate the youths. Took ages for the exam to actually start, the kids were too nervous to do anything! Afraid they would embarrass themselves before the King. It took an uplifting speech from His Majesty to get the exam underway.

Now? Now half the court attends. For the life of him, Narsis didn’t know why it happened this way, but this was simply how it worked these days. How times change. From a small gathering of friends, wanting to watch the future of the kingdom, to another battlefield that the court could bicker about.

He downed the last bits of wine his glass held. Noticing his glass empty, he raised it up for a refill. Honestly, Narsis felt embarrassed being in the same social strata as nobility. Oh, if only the masses knew just how the rulership actually was! They would riot on principle.

Hell, he’d be glad to help light the first manse on fire!

As old Kernwood began his little introduction, Narsis focused on the three specs of blue amidst the sea of red and gold; foremost amongst them being his Highness, Prince Kael'thas, seated next to his father. Along with his guests from Dalaran, Arch Mage Krasus and another mage he didn't recognize.

This was the first time he had seen his Highness in Silvermoon since the end of the Second War. Naturally he was not privy to if the prince had returned home before this. But Narsis believed this was the first time in years the wayward prince had stepped foot in Quel’Thalas in its entirety.

And quite the bold return, he mused drinking more of his beloved ambrosia.

He regarded his highness's choice of clothing. Such nuisance in wearing the robes of Dalaran instead of his own royal robes. Why it almost seemed like he was trying to send his father, and the court, a message. But what could it be? The subtlety eluded him.

He chuckled as he drank, half hearing Kerwood finishing his address.

Though, knowing how infantile and sloth some of the nobility have become, maybe it is too subtle. Maybe his highness should be a bit more brazen. Perhaps hanging the Alliance banner above his seat? Or maybe wear a medallion bearing the crest of Lordaeron rather than the serrated sun of Silvermoon upon his person! To ensure the symbolism wasn't ignored or mistaken for something else.

Narsis was jesting, of course. He knew, hell everyone knew, his Highness was a staunch Internationalist. Which, of course, made him come to blows with his Isolationist father.

It was well known at court that the King and his Highness were not on the best of terms as of late. The decision to leave the Alliance was supported by most of the court. Sadly, for his majesty, the prince was amongst the small group who wished to remain. Even before his time in Dalaran, young Kael’Thas was known for his desire to open the Kingdom up to more interactions with the Human nations to the south. This mindset only intensified when he joined the Kirin Tor and later joined the Council of Six. When Dalaran joined the Alliance, his Highness joined his fellow Arch Mages and took to the field. Indeed, the Prince was even apart of the relief force sent to Silvermoon at the height of the War. He even made a grand speech before the Convocation wishing for deeper relations between the member states of the Alliance; of how no task is too insurmountable with the aid of fire forged friends.

Given all this, it is somewhat obvious that his Highness disagreed with his father on the issue of isolating the kingdom further. Officially, the prince resigned from his post as Magister to focus his role as Arch Mage and a member of the Council of Six in full. It was a mutual agreement; the courtiers were told. While Narsis didn't see the falling out in person, his confidants informed him that it was loud, blunt, and more than one sofa was burned.

Less the actions of a Royal, and more the actions of a petulant child throwing a tantrum at not getting what they want.

Which of them was he thinking about again? He smiled, keeping the bark of laughter in his throat.

Old Kernwood finished his speech, and the first bout began.

Narsis watched the children take their position. He didn't recognize the second name, but Emberbirth? Oh, he knew that family well. Hell, he’s had the past six generations in his lecture hall at one point in time. He heard that the girl, while beyond brilliant, was frail. Her robes hid it well, but he could tell she was small for her age.

Despite this, as the first of the white-hot flames materialized, he knew the match was a foregone conclusion.

As the girl walked off stage, the telltale sounds of quills scribbling echoed around him. Narsis didn't even know why they were making notes. The girl had passed. Maybe about the boy? He looked at the boy, still shaking as he was examined by the healers. If the boy had simply attempted a counter spell, Naris might have given him a moment of thought.

But as far as he was concerned, the boy had failed. The boy let fear paralyze himself.

Narsis spared a glance to the royal booth. He saw Lord Emberbirth quite exuberant at his sister’s victory.

The next series of matches followed a similar trend. One child would overpower the other. Simple, if boring. The only exception to this pattern were the Greatstar twins; knocking each other out. The Lord Greatstar looked torn between embarrassed and enraged. Maybe he was just surprised? Who could say.

When the next applicants were called up, Naris noticed something quite unusual in the royal booth. One of the Prince’s guests, the younger one, Suneater or Sunflare (he knew it was “Sun” something!) he just couldn't remember the name, brought the prince’s attention to the match. His Highness motioned to the Coldwater heiress. The young man, the name still on the tip of his tongue, shook his head, pointing to the other girl.

He regarded the girl, quickly realizing that it was the same one from earlier. The one who noticed the royal booth were all the other children seemed obvious to it. What a coincidence.

He raised his glass for a refill once more. He could feel the wine being poured as the match started.

Both launched a flurry of spells at each other. Coldwater’s frostbolt withstood the underpowered arcane spells launched by, he regarded the list for the other’s name, Dawnguard. The girl then leapt to the ground and suffered repeated frostbolt hits as she tried to stand up.

A poor initial showing, he mused. Then again, the Coldwater girl is no better. He watched as the Coldwater girl began to go on a tangent about her family. For someone so small, her high-pitched voice certainly carried.

He was prepared to write the Kirin Tor’s interest in the girl off, but then things got interesting. The Dawnguard girl, on her feet again, renewed her assault. More arcane spells. But when Coldwater tried to counter, the orbs swung around the oncoming frostbolt and struck true. Or as true as a blow could be when met with an arcane barrier. After a series of more orbs, Dawnguard arced one above the arena, striking Coldwater in the back.

Ah, now he can see the interest in the girl.

Coldwater seemingly did not take this blow well. She began to conjure water and snap freeze it. Using the icicles as spears to skewer Dawnguard.

If Narsis had not been a mage, he might have been impressed by the display. But he knew better.

For all her apparent skill, all her gloating and impressing the importance of her family's legacy and her place as its heiress, she cannot conjure ice directly. She needed to first conjure water, then freeze it. While it had the same result as simply conjuring ice, it was more mana intensive. It also showed she was not as skilled with Frost magic as she was with Hydromancy.

The soft scribbling around him showed he was not the only one who reached that conclusion.

Most magical fights, ignoring outside interference or assistance, were decided within the first minute of being fought. One who lost momentum did not tend to recover it. With Dawnguard’s teleporting and rear assaults', the proverbial pendulum has swung in the other direction.

If the duel continued as it was, with its current tempo, Dawnguard would be the victor from simply outlasting Coldwater. He see, and feel, the difference in mana pool’s between the two; even from where he was sitting. Dawnguard was a brilliant hearth when compared to Coldwater’s middling campfire.

Then Coldwater did something beyond stupid. She used her frost magic to conjure a small blizzard to momentarily blind Dawnguard and then began to summon a water elemental. The girl was already nearing the limit of her mana pool, yet now was when she uses a mana intensive spell?

With Coldwater already showing signs of mana exhaustion before this excessive display of magic, and Dawnguard looking positively radiant if a bit roughed up, Narsis was confident with his assessment of their capabilities to call the match now. For goodness sake, Coldwater was coughing up a storm and looked ready to fall over dead.

All Dawnguard had to do was just last the next thirty or so seconds and wait for Coldwater to collapse under her own weight.

The elemental charged, the girl blew it apart.

It reformed, the girl blinked backwards.

It charged again, and Dawnguard boiled it away with a cone of fire.

Quite a bright display. Coldwater tried to summon another elemental, but it was over. She could barely breathe without coughing her lungs out, let alone summon another elemental. The Proctor seemingly agreed with Narsis’s opinion, as he called the match in Dawnguard’s favor.

Looking over to the royal booth, he just caught a glimpse of a noble leaving the seating area in quite the hurry. Lord Coldwater perhaps? Other nobles and court officials seemingly whispered and talked amongst themselves; eyeing the girls in the arena. His Highness, Arch Mage Krasus, and Sun-something, talked amongst themselves. The young man was quite pleased with the results of the bout, along with his Highness. Krasus looked at the girl with an expression Narsis could not really explain. Surprise? Confusion? Worry? It was hard to tell with how well the man concealed his emotions, stoic as he is when he wishes to keep something hidden.

Then Coldwater did as all children do, and threw a tantrum that she lost. The girl coughed and wheezed anger and spite. She even tried to summon an elemental again as she shook like a reed in the wind!

This had gone on long enough.

The Headmaster agreed. He was on his feet before Narsis even noticed.

“Miss Coldwater,” Magic amplified the wizened elf’s voice across the amphitheater. The girl tried to look up, but she failed. “Your objection has been noted. Please return to your seat. If you require a healer, please indicate such.”

The girl realized it was over. Finally.

It was only after the girls had walked off the stage, making room for the next applicants, that Narsis realized he hadn't taken a single sip of wine the whole match.

Quite unusual, Narsis thought as he brought the glass to his lips.

--
--

“Failed.”

“Failed”

“Failed.”

“A unanimous vote then,” papers shuffled across the table. “Mr. Silver-Wreath will not be admitted,” a thundering stamp sealed the decision. stamped the document.

The room was spacious, yet the table they sat at was quite small. It was littered with scrolls and packets of paper arranged into two piles: the accepted pile, and the failed pile. A series of windows brought fresh light into the chamber. Crystals and gems floated about, providing more light if needed. Servants hovered around the table, holding trays of snacks and pitchers of wine.

‘Boy has some potential as a mage,’ Narsis mused to himself. ‘But he will not achieve such a rank at the Academy.’

Following the matches, the Lectors and Headmaster had retreated to a chamber to discuss the results of the bouts. Less a strict criteria of right or wrong, and more an analysis of actions. A student could lose their match yet still be admitted, as in the case with the Greatstar twins. However, with how the process was going this year, losing the match was tantamount to failing.

They had been at it for hours. One by one, the professors went over the remaining applicants.

“Next up, Applicant Sixty-Nine, Miss Venara Coldwater,” the headmaster leafed through the next packet of papers. “Recommended by Magister Heren Coldwater. Scored above average in the pre-examination, above average in the general written examination, positive marks from her meeting,” he listed off the essentials of her scores. “Overall, a qualified student.”

“Perhaps academically, but her personality leaves much to be desired,” Lector Mirell noted. She was voicing what they all were thinking.

“She is just a child Mirell,” Lector Lybiota countered. “Personality traits such as that can be worked on over the years.”

‘Of course you would say that’, Narsis rolled his eyes. 'After all, which family paid for your new country villa?'

“Such things should have been worked on at home already,” Lector Ferenris challenged Lybiota, knowing just why the old bat was going easy on Coldwater. “We are an academy not a daycare,” he was addressing the headmaster now. “We should not have to educate our charges on simple matters such as biting their tongues. This is something her parents should have already instilled in her.”

“We are talking about the Coldwaters,” Merill reminds them. The Lord and Lady Coldwater’s were very powerful figures at court. Every party. Every ball. Every gala. The Coldwater's were in attendance. While this political activity allowed them to entrench themselves as a powerful duo at court, it was equally well know that the Lord and Lady had quite the 'ego' to themselves. Naris has no doubt that the behavior the Coldwater girl displayed was taught rather than simply observed. So long as the girl kept up with her studies, he doubted her parents would correct any behavioral trait that did not directly impact them at court.

“That may be, but she is still just a-”

“Can we just call the vote now,” Narsis cut Lybiota off. The girl’s entry was a foregone conclusion. The Coldwater’s could be quite aggressive, when they wanted something to happen. Especially if something could negatively affect their image at court. Such as, for example, the heiress to the family failing to achieve what every Coldwater for the last six thousand years has achieved.

For perspective, the last courtier who tried to bring down the Coldwaters, by questioning their honor and integrity before the whole court, was found dead within a day.

It was ruled an accident by the guards.

How a man can ‘accidently’ break his own legs with a warhammer before dragging himself half a mile out of the city to hang himself was not questioned by said authorities. The city guard had more important things to worry about that day it seemed; such as discovering how their coin purses suddenly became so heavy.

What would they do if their heir didn't go to the Academy?

The Coldwaters could never challenge any of the Lectors or the Headmaster openly, they had the direct patronage of the King himself. But they could make their lives difficult. Not counting what they could do to their relatives and loved ones. Children end up missing all the time after all…

Lybiota seemed to smile for the briefest of moments. She turned to the headmaster, “I agree with Narsis’s suggestion.”

“Very well then,” Kernwood put the packet down, “Lectors, if you will.”

“Pass,” Lybiota was the first to respond.

“Pass,” Narsis followed.

Ferenris and Merill looked at each other.

“Pass.”

“Pass.”

“A unanimous vote,” the headmaster stamped Coldwater’s packet, “Miss Coldwater will be joining our academy. It would also appear that our homes, and bones, are quite safe for the near future.” Kernwood gave a lighthearted chuckle.

'Who could have seen that coming?' Narsis mused the result.

Kernwood picked up the next packet, “now then, on to Applicant Thirteen, Syllia Dawnguard.”

Narsis perked up at the name.

“Recommended by Magister Firebrook,” the old man made a face before looking over the next part. “Perfect score on the pre-entrance examination. Average score on the general examination. Perfect marks from her written examination. Perfect marks, again, on her meeting.”

Something seemed off. No one gets a perfect score on any aspect of the exam. How does a child even get a “perfect” score?

“If I may,” Merill reached out, taking the packet from Kernwood. She flipped through each page. Her eyes running over each line.

“It's simply not possible for anyone, let alone a child, to get a perfect score on any part of this exam,” Lybiota spoke up.

“I haven't found any question not properly marked,” Merill closed the packet. “Her handwriting is rough, but not the worst I have seen.” She passed the packet along to Lybiota.

“What did she write about for her essay,” Ferenris asked.

“The Guribashi-Stormwind War and an analysis on the interconnectivity between forms of magic.”

“And?”

“And it was a nice, if brief, read,” Merill remarked. “Her analysis on magic and its interaction is a bit overly simplistic. But it is still a good base to work from. I’m tempted to use her diagram in my junior classes when we begin our lectures on magical sources next semester.”

“Are we sure she didn't have any outside help?” Lybiota questioned, finishing the packet herself, she passed it to Narsis.

“If she did, it seemingly wasn't caught,” Narsis responded as he fingered through the pages. Like the others had said, handwriting was atrocious, but the substance was sound.

Honestly, if the girl was able to somehow get all the answers to her questions, write in without being noticed, then somehow convince the professor that met her to give her a near perfect score on everything else, he’d allow her into Dath’Remar on that alone.

It was easy to forget that while other academies trained mages, Dath’Remar trains magisters. And magisters are not merely mages. They are the clerks who manage the various offices of state. They are the mayors, viceroys, and governors of the kingdom. They council the King in times of peace, and lead His armies in times of war. Outside of the King, Magisters are the sole authority in Quel’Thalas. Only the Farstriders are outside their purview; and even then, it is because they take orders only from the King himself.

Magisters must be as political as they are academic in nature. A magister does not remain a magister for long if they do not sufficiently meet these two criteria.

He passed the packet onto Ferenris.

None could deny her practical skills. They all saw her performance against Coldwater. Dawnguard was clumsy. Had a limited training if her performance was any indication. Her spells were underpowered in many areas. Her teleporting was inaccurate. But she did beat a child who has trained the better part of their life. And then showed humility where others would demonstrate vainglory; catching the Coldwater girl and helping her to her seat.

The question of her written grades had only two plausible answers.

First, she cheated on her exams. Bribing, or somehow rigging, her way through the written portion; including her face-to-face meeting. Somehow managing what no other student in millennia has achieved, and only is getting caught because she was too good, and the results were too perfect. In which case, Narsis would vote in favor of her to help mold this talent into something useful.

Second, this is genuine and she is a genius beyond anything seen in the kingdom’s history. In which case, the answer is still the same: accept her to help train her talents.

“What was this note here,” Ferenris brought up. He flipped to a page and placed it in the center of the table.

“What note?” Merill questioned.

Narsis wondered that too, the page Ferenris brought up was blank- Oh, now he saw it.

Merill and Lybiota noticed it as well.

There were telltale signs of magic being used to remove ink on the page. An alchemical solution. Drops smeared against the page to remove any trace of ink, while also applying a magical effect to make reconstructing what was written impossible by magical means.

“Ah that,” Kernwood spoke up. “It was a mistake someone made while marking the exam. They thought they saw something in Miss. Dawnguard’s exam, but realized their mistake after the fact. They told me about it before we gathered, so I applied the solution to wipe off the comments to not let them distract from her scores.”

‘But why make it nearly impossible to even notice there was a note and why use that solution in particular?’ Narsis questioned. Naturally he didn't say it aloud.

It wasn't the fact that Kernwood erased a note that had him suspicious, just a couple of packets ago half a page was whited out by the headmaster due to “explicit drawings and inappropriate language” being written by an applicant frustrated by the difficulty of the exam.

But this solution was not a simple white out. This was used by clerks to destroy and dispose of official documents with sensitive information in such a way as to make inferring anything written prior impossible. And who wrote this note, and why was it destroyed in such a way as to make reconstructing it impossible?

If anyone else questioned this line of thought, they did not show or voice it.

“Well then, shall we call the vote?” Kernwood quipped.

“Pass,” Merill spoke up first.

“Pass,” Ferenris followed soon after.

“Fail,” Lybiota broke from the rest. “I refuse to believe that this girl did not commit foul play.”

'Of course, that's what it's called when you need an excuse to fail a student that made a fool out of the house giving generous donations to you?' Narsis snickered.

All eyes were on him.

“Pass,” Narsis responded.

The headmaster smiled, “majority rules then, Miss Dawnguard shall be admitted into the Academy.” He placed the packet in the accept pile before pulling out the next one.

First the girl see’s through the illusions blocking out the royal booth. Then he learns she is the same girl who got near perfect scores on her exams. A note was blotted out by the Headmaster with ink used to destroy sensitive documents. Then mages of the Kirin Tor are interested in her. Narsis could tell when something was up, he just didn’t know what it was. He would keep an eye on that one, Syllia Dawnguard. Seemed like she was involved, knowingly or otherwise, in something that involved many powerful people.

And the night dragged on, but thankfully, the wine kept flowing.

What else could a man ask for?