4th Day of Spring, 514 AV
Bitt rasped his knuckles on the door to Crowe's quarters. Knock, knock, knock! The Syliran Knights were so well organised; Bitt only had to ask one of the stewards for directions to the room and he received them almost straight away. The muscle cramps that had plagued him since the other day had reduced to a dull ache; the two nights of recovery had done Bitt wonders. Thankfully, his young body recovered quickly. The door to the quarters swung open to reveal an old, bearded knight.
"Come in lad, we'd best get started," Crowe's tone sounded slightly different than usual. Bitt thought he almost sounded reluctant; he was probably just imagining things though. The squire nodded enthusiastically and stepped into the room.
It was a room that resembled most others in Syliras; small, windowless and humble. Granted, Crowe had this room to himself and didn't have to share it with anyone... then again, Bitt had his room to himself for now as well.
"Take a seat lad," Crowe prompted as he gestured towards an unlit candle that sat near the centre of the room on the floor; Bitt sat on one side of it and Crowe sat opposite him. Nothing was said for several chimes, which made Bitt anxious. He was about to say something himself when Crowe finally spoke.
"As I am sure you're aware lad, I can use magic. As your patron it is my duty to teach you what I know," Bitt listened eagerly, not wanting to miss any information. The prospect of learning magic was as frightening as it was exciting. Soon, Bitt would be more than a man; he would be one of those, a mage, "I will say this now; it will be a long time before you use any magic. I will not let you rush into this. I will do everything in my power to reduce your chances of overgiving some day." Bitt frowned at the words, but Crowe sounded serious. Bitt considered something while Crowe eyed him; apparently he was waiting for a response.
"What's overgiving?" was all that Bitt asked.
"Overgiving," Crowe began in a sombre tone, "is what happens when magic is abused. It will be the main subject of today's lessons," Crowe gestured towards the candle, "and this candle here is going to be your instructor."
Bit raised an eyebrow at the last part of Crowe's declaration. Crowe noticed the movement and frowned.
"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear lad," Crowe began, Bitt noted that Crowe's cheerful tone did not at all match the expression on his face, "allow me to clarify." Crowe stood and took the candle to one of the torches on the wall where he lit it. He returned it to its original position, took a seat, and stared down the young squire. Bitt's heart sank at his patron's next words.
"What are you waiting for lad? Place your hand above the flame and hold it there for as long as you can."
Bitt rasped his knuckles on the door to Crowe's quarters. Knock, knock, knock! The Syliran Knights were so well organised; Bitt only had to ask one of the stewards for directions to the room and he received them almost straight away. The muscle cramps that had plagued him since the other day had reduced to a dull ache; the two nights of recovery had done Bitt wonders. Thankfully, his young body recovered quickly. The door to the quarters swung open to reveal an old, bearded knight.
"Come in lad, we'd best get started," Crowe's tone sounded slightly different than usual. Bitt thought he almost sounded reluctant; he was probably just imagining things though. The squire nodded enthusiastically and stepped into the room.
It was a room that resembled most others in Syliras; small, windowless and humble. Granted, Crowe had this room to himself and didn't have to share it with anyone... then again, Bitt had his room to himself for now as well.
"Take a seat lad," Crowe prompted as he gestured towards an unlit candle that sat near the centre of the room on the floor; Bitt sat on one side of it and Crowe sat opposite him. Nothing was said for several chimes, which made Bitt anxious. He was about to say something himself when Crowe finally spoke.
"As I am sure you're aware lad, I can use magic. As your patron it is my duty to teach you what I know," Bitt listened eagerly, not wanting to miss any information. The prospect of learning magic was as frightening as it was exciting. Soon, Bitt would be more than a man; he would be one of those, a mage, "I will say this now; it will be a long time before you use any magic. I will not let you rush into this. I will do everything in my power to reduce your chances of overgiving some day." Bitt frowned at the words, but Crowe sounded serious. Bitt considered something while Crowe eyed him; apparently he was waiting for a response.
"What's overgiving?" was all that Bitt asked.
"Overgiving," Crowe began in a sombre tone, "is what happens when magic is abused. It will be the main subject of today's lessons," Crowe gestured towards the candle, "and this candle here is going to be your instructor."
Bit raised an eyebrow at the last part of Crowe's declaration. Crowe noticed the movement and frowned.
"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear lad," Crowe began, Bitt noted that Crowe's cheerful tone did not at all match the expression on his face, "allow me to clarify." Crowe stood and took the candle to one of the torches on the wall where he lit it. He returned it to its original position, took a seat, and stared down the young squire. Bitt's heart sank at his patron's next words.
"What are you waiting for lad? Place your hand above the flame and hold it there for as long as you can."
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