Session VII

Today is the day! By which, we mean that today, this morning that graces the grand city of Anbaerin, in the 206th year After Dawn, on a fair autumnal day, the eleventh of Ophedris -- by the Aemerian Calendar and according the Arcanum records -- is the day of which our heroes take a test! We do beg our faithful readers' patience, for while we may appear to be giving this date a certain amount of excitement, for which we've not shown over any other date, it is the opinion of this indulgent narrator that this date, among many dates, is a rare and exciting moment for the humble historian when he or she is presented with a concrete date, especially when one considers the veritable sea of names and lives that have been recorded in our noble metropolis which is, of course, our backdrop for this history. So we cannot pass by this seemingly innocuous fact without conveying to our most hospitable audience our pure joy in finding such a record, and, though we tread longer on our readers' graciousness, we plead for two words more on this subject, and we will attempt to enlighten our readers in the hopes that some among you may find this entertaining.

Attend. We have already related to you the events of our friends entering the city through the grand port of Anbaerin, the Port of Brilliance, wherefore one may correctly assume that records have been maintained dutifully. Our most perspicacious readers would not be wrong, however, two things: the port serves thousands if not millions of people daily, and while their records are certainly recorded -- and recorded in triplicate, moreover -- records are prone to being misplaced, damaged, or even destroyed -- as much as it pains this fervent admirer of archives and chronicles, for with the destruction of such materials, oft goes little pieces of history which we historians do so concern ourselves with. Thus, to make a query of the Imperial record for such materials concerning our worthies, of which we endeavor to represent to our readers in this written word, and endeavor most faithfully to portray accurately, as have passed through the Port of Brilliance, well we should have spent what funds we may have had for this purpose entirely in such a fact-finding mission, and should budget have proven an insufficient obstacle, the cost may have been that of lifetimes before finding such a document as would place our party at that instant in history where they passed through Anbaerenin customs -- without a frame of reference, that is.

What frame of reference, my dear readers? Why, what other than that tidbit of historical record with which we have opened this chapter of our history with such exuberance -- which the astute among you may have gathered at once! For our dear readers must already understand that it would be a far simpler task to look through the relative handful of examinee records rather than trawl for ages through the insurmountable mount of archived documents form the offices of the port of Anbaerin. From such a meticulously kept record, as is often the case with the Arcanum, we discover that by a simple inquiry of a mere two or three days past from this most singular of dates, we can pinpoint the precise moment when our principal actors first set foot in the great cultural nexus of the world — thus, as one might say, sifting the wheat from the chaff. And in this instance, the chaff consists of the port’s trivial records, irrelevant to our narrative, while the wheat — of course, as our discerning readers will surely appreciate — comprises those precious documents that chronicle everything, from the humble registration of a frog familiar to the harrowing, albeit somewhat embellished, tale of our unfortunate friend, Duke Morland. From these, we are able to quench that most insatiable thirst of this devoted lover of historical truth — not only by verifying the course of events but by anchoring them in time, thereby reinforcing the authenticity of our tale.

Having relished our brief indulgence in explanation, we shall no longer keep our most patient and indulgent readers in suspense. On this day, the 11th of Ophedris, in the year 206 AD, the Arcanum holds its exam — yet not merely any exam, but one of no small consequence, for it is the exam of not one, but three of our principal characters! Brixta, of course, being the spark that ignited the desire to test their magical prowess, which, in turn, roused Cobb — despite his usual paranoid inclinations — to venture forth. And it was this very venture that, in its wake, inspired our dear friend Cat to join the ranks. Thus, from the usual modest number of examinees, three more were added to the day’s tally.

Though, Cobb was initially meant to the see Professor Thornwood this morning, due to the accord they came to yesterday that fateful day in Professor Valadin's office, he forewent the examination and experimentation, for the meantime, as he elected, quite on the spot to take the exam to be one of the Arcanum's pupils. We should mention that Professor Thornwood did indeed approach the gathering of students, looking for Cobb, quite oblivious to the test about to be administered, which did spark some confusion both from the student hopefuls and from faculty, as the Arcanum's Secretary Danvess came to check in on the students.

Two words, then, about the Arcanum's Secretary, for it seems only fitting that we provide our discerning readers with a portrait of this formidable figure, a power among powers. Secretary Elise Danvess, Secretary to the First Mage, and, in the absence of a First Mage, the Seeker of the First Spell, was a tall, slender woman, in whom grace, poise, and, if our records are to be trusted, a certain coyness seemed to emanate as naturally as the very air she breathed. Yet her fashions—ah!—were as capricious and dramatic as the shifting of the heavens, and so it is with some difficulty that we can say with certainty what she wore on that day. Nevertheless, from the many renowned portraits of her—of which there were many, for countless artists sought to immortalize her striking countenance upon their canvas—we might imagine a woman of luxuriously long, straight black hair, its sleekness heightened only by an underdye of daring hue. Her face was one of striking beauty, with angular yet demure features, arched brows, and a nose of quiet pride that bespoke her Jirian ancestry, and full lips from which hung, at times, a charming bemused smile. In her ears hung delicate strands of gold, adorned with jewels of sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and amethysts. As for her attire, it is a matter of speculation; yet, if the portraits speak truly, she dressed not only with elegance, but with such boldness as to set the trends of Anberrin’s fashion world. Her dress — indeed, at times, scandalously so — often included trousers and blouses, and were adorned with dramatic slashes of purple and the gleam of gold ornaments, all of which left their mark upon the ever-shifting tastes of the city.

Of her personality, much could be said — perhaps too much for some, yet we shall speak plainly. It is well known that she inspired no small measure of fear among the students, but let us reassure the reader, this was no ordinary fear. It was a healthy fear, the kind born from the certainty that the Arcanum’s rules and ethics would be upheld with the utmost rigor. And though she rarely graced the classroom with her presence — despite being a foremost expert on Necromantic energies and their many uses — her knowledge remained, perhaps wisely, strictly theoretical. Coupled with the students’ natural wariness of necromancy’s dark stigma, her time in the lecture hall was few and far between. Yet this, we must note, was not the only unsettling aspect of her character. No, there were whispers — whispers that her shadow, at times, did not behave as shadows ought — a phenomenon that, we have no doubt, afforded her no small amusement on more than one occasion. Nevertheless, despite all the mystique and apprehension which Secretary Danvess seemed naturally to inspire, she remained at heart a sincere and genuine spirit, ever compassionate to those who entrusted her with their troubles, and proving herself time and again a formidable ally and swift, capable resolver of difficulties.

Our famous Secretary then greets our troops of would-be Arcanum Novices, and welcomes them, whereupon they are handed off to Professor Myrian Orndale. Which we will take some time to describe, though we must beg our reader's forgiveness for not going into quite as robust a description as we have for the lovely Elise Danvess, only because we will find better and more appropriate moments in our history to describe her in more depth, as there is much to tell of her and, in this instance, she only plays the role of proctor. Suffice it to say that Professor Orndale appeared to our party as woman in her thirties or forties, human, and with a matronly disposition if not the appearance of one, for we have it on good opinion that Professor Orndale may have either been of mixed blood with either an elf, dwarf, or gnome, elf seems the most likely to this humble historian, or that she had tapped into some magical phenomena that either stopped or slowed her aging. Though, we must report, as your faithful chronicler, that this exists as opinion only, we have no way of verifying this information at present.

So it is, then, that our three heroes, Cat, Cobb, and Brixta, were escorted by Professor Orndale to take the first test of the exam: the practical exam. They were taken to the Arcanum's Spell Vault, a veritable coliseum designed and engineered to contain the various magics flung about in it. Here they were instructed to write their name in the Unbound Tome, an ominous name for a book with infinite pages, but, not wholly undeserved, for this tome also has the decidedly unsettling feature to record the true name of anyone that writes within the tome, how or why it was designed is both beyond the knowledge of we admirers of history and beyond the scope of the history we endeavor to relate, at least as far as our research has proven.

However, all three of our friends write their names in the book, with Cobb putting up a considerable stink about his name being recorded truthfully, quite literally in the sense that, and we have it on very good authority, Cobb, our frog friend, evacuated his vent upon the book, which may have damaged most other books, but which harmed this tome little, as, one it's pages are most magical, and, two, there were many a mage there capable of the simple spell of prestidigitation.

Despite, a frogish tantrum, all participants signed their names, some more shocked than others, upon reading their own writing, and the practical exam commenced. Each hopeful was called up, in order of who signed, and demonstrated their spellcraft to the judges, whom we should mention included Secretary Danvess, Professor Duanelac, pronounced /du.in.jʌ.læk/ for those not versed in Vassari names, and Professor Lódczyk, pronounced /lɔd.t͡ʃjɛk/ for those not versed in Crystaluznian names.

The judging remained quite stoic, and once the examinees were all finished, they were escorted by Orndale and into the next test room, which was a large room, filled with desks, paper, and writing implements. With the three judges before them, they were asked to explain what The Arcane was in this the written exam. To which some acquitted themselves better than others, and it is the opinion of this, your indulgent guide through the annals of history, that this particular exam may very well be the most decisive element of the test for our judges. For, it is the humble opinion of said guide — if our esteemed readers will permit me — that the manner in which a student presents themselves in the written word, and their reflections upon one subject or another, reveals a certain quality of their character. The Arcanum, being a place of both profound knowledge and strict ethical foundation, concerns itself not solely with magical prowess, but with the very nature of the student’s mind and heart. It is for this reason that these essays are wielded to great effect, serving as both mirror and measure, allowing the academy to discern not only who is fit for entrance, but also who must be set aside for another year’s growth and reflection.

In due time, our participants, all, set down their quills, and stoppered their ink, and dusted their pages with sand, to then turn in their essays to our esteemed, stoic evaluators, who then excused themselves, before the would-be students were excused. The examinees were then granted a modest repast of tea and delicate finger foods, a brief respite for both body and spirit. And it is here, that perhaps Cobb disqualified himself, for though he may not have had the disposition the Arcanum required of their students, that is a certain amount of teachability and responsibility, he is perhaps the most qualified, in terms of Arcane knowledge, to become a student of this prestigious academy. For it will not shock our reader to learn that the tests, as one would naturally conceive of a test, were not the only tests. And this, my fine reader, is precisely why the exam is not only evaluated by three judges, but proctored by another member of faculty, this proctor being our dear Professor Orndale. To put it more plainly, Professor Orndale was not just a chaperon who guided our poor students hither and thither through the maze-like innards of the Arcnum. No, she was also there to observe the behaviors of these potential Novices.

It must be noted, then, that our hopeful test-takers were not merely indulging in a brief respite for the sake of hospitality alone. No, our estimable hosts had far more in mind than simple pleasantries. This interlude was carefully designed not only to offer the examinees a moment’s reprieve but to ensure they would be sufficiently invigorated for the trials yet to come. For as any discerning reader will understand, after hours of both magical exertion and the strain of intellectual toil, one’s faculties may become sorely dulled. In such instances, a timely repast, coupled with a moment of well-deserved rest, is not merely a remedy for the fatigue of the body, but a means by which one may sharpen the mind and restore the senses to full alertness, prepared for whatever challenges may follow.

What challenges would those be? Well, what else than the last leg of our exam: the Interview. Thus, it was not long before the first hopeful is called back to be interviewed, the first, and only, conversation they will have with the judges this entire test, and, in point of fact, they were called back in the same order in which they signed the Unbound Tome, and they each take some time to interview. Now it is curious to this mere examiner of historical events how similar these interviews play out, with some exceptions, and we are told that the interviews vary in length quite considerably, but the interview seems, to this historian, to be a simple gauge of the person being interviewed, rather than learning anything particularly useful in the arguments the interviewee makes form oneself. And, since we have already treaded long on our readers' patience to explain to our most indulgent patrons what we believe to be the most important facet of the test in rendering judgements upon the fates of those deemed fit for admission to these hallowed halls of the Arcanum and those who must be cast aside, we consider it unconscionable to conceal, even by omission, that the prevailing theory of the day, amongst those that scrutinized the Arcanum's exam process, which — it is certain — were few, was that the interview was the most important portion of this infamous test.

This, lest we leave our readers in suspense, because many Arcanists from every station in life, have written famously well articulated essays and acquitted themselves with great distinction in their show of spellcraft, and yet not been allowed entry into the self-same halls of which our heroes have attempted to gain entry. One may excuse this most interesting of quirks, as it is well known that the Arcanum regularly chooses not even a single applicant for admission into their storied halls, but, and we beg our reader for two more words on this, it is our humble opinion that this answer is, indeed, insufficient — indeed, even lazy — and, moreover, does not actually address the weights of each test. Though, the interviews seems woefully unremarkable, they must still serve a purpose that is hidden from the dutiful researchers of the past such as ourselves. That is to say, there must have been some value our worthy judges were receiving from such interviews as these that must not have been recorded.

But, to say that the interviews had weight, and that, perhaps, they played a role in some deciding factor of the test, is not the same as to say that this poor historian's hypothesis, which he has made known to the reader earlier in this chapter, is invalid. Merely, it is our poor estimation, if there were still any uncertainty amongst the judges, the interview provided certain insights as would help these famous fellows reach their most educated conclusions -- a tipping of the scales so to speak. Does this not mean, then, that the interview is the most important test, then? How? We cannot see why it would be! Unless, in the instance of stale mate among judges, which we contend would not occur very often, the interview would help to bring the judges under into accord with each other. If our most indulgent readers will allow us to phrase it more succinctly, the interview is the most contextual of the tests. Should the student have displayed good spellcraft, and, moreover -- as is our opinion, if they were to succeed in their encapsulations of theory into the written word, then I should think the interview mostly unnecessary, but of which the interview provides, still, some value regardless.

In any case, thus concludes the examination of the Arcanum's applicants on the 11th day of Ophendris, in the year 206 AD. We must, with the deepest gratitude, extend our thanks to our most patient readers, who have graciously allowed us the privilege of unveiling the workings of our minds through this account — a process, we trust, that has been not only enlightening but, dare we hope, entertaining as well. And so it was, at long last, that our hopeful Brixta, the tortured Cobb, and the hapless Cat emerged from the interview and found themselves amongst the other applicants, gathered in a quiet corner near the Hall of Promise. And once all had assembled, with ample time to ponder their fates, the exquisite Secretary Danvess, with all the poise and grace that marked her every step, made her way toward this motley assembly of aspiring Arcanists. With a voice as clear as the chime of a bell, she proclaimed, not one, not two, but three new Novices of the Arcanum: Brixta, Liran Vesset, and Orlan Sahvos. The announcement sent ripples of shock through some, while others, resigned to their failure, found themselves awash in despair — including Cobb, who, in a moment of quite characteristic outrage, cried aloud in protest!

While Cobb would, indeed, require some few moments before his good humor should return to him, Aerith and Cat were both more than happy to congratulate Brixta. The astute among our readers, will note that this is the first time we have placed Aerith in this chapter of our history, and so we shall interrupt this happy moment, spoiled only a little by Cobb's gripes with the establishment — of which he seems perfectly fine with when it suits him — to say two words on our absentee heroine. She returned a book. We do not dare to pretend to be flippant with our readers, but to those who may have been wondering about our dear cleric, she was given the errand to return a book which was taken without permission from the office of Professor Valadin. And, for those of whom for social confrontation is an anathema, you will be at ease to know that she did not encounter the dear professor, instead leaving the tome behind at his door instead. For the bibliophiles amongst our readers, we must assure them that the book did not rest on the ground overlong and was picked up by its rightful owner and resumed its proper place among Professor Valadin's shelves, quite seamlessly, for indeed, we historians — having much in common with our cousins, the bibliophiles — did worry, ourselves, over the fate of said book as well.

So with Aerith once more among her friends, Brixta looking at a bright new future in the Arcanum, Cat enthusiastically supporting his friends, and Cobb, though depressed at present, generally wearing on everyone's patience, that Aerith approaches Secretary Danvess, with the intention for a much more serious matter. To which Danvess acquiesced to receive them in her office, to discuss what matters Aerith might put before her. Offices, we must faithfully add, that were considerably lavish. Furniture from exotic places, made from exotic materials, decorated with golden gilding and jewels. Sheer curtains of silks of rich purples fell diaphanously from anchors out of sight, in the occluded darkness of the ceiling; felts, in both blacks and purples, draped where the silks did not. Sconces of highly polished brass, with ornately carved crystal shades. Rugs the seemed to blanket the cold otherwise extravagant marble flooring in intricate patterns, clearly authentic Sahssian handiwork. Books lined bookshelves, art covered what walls were left, and all in all, Elise Danvess had made of her office a rather lush and moody den for herself.

She strutted over to her desk, set her tablet down, and leaned against her study darkwood desk to address the party and their inquiries. And though this conversation was taken in the sincerest confidences of Ms. Danvess, we, your humble guides, have some speculation — based on context — as to what was discussed, of which we will endeavor to deliver to our reader whom do us the great honor of reading this our narrative. According to what discoveries we have made in the pursuit of unearthing history, we suspect — with great confidence, even — that our worthy Aerith, wished to know more of the nature of demons and their effects on the heavens and the guardians of them. For she seemed to have seen some great conspiracy of the cosmos working against her and her party, and was, we have no doubt, influenced no small bit by the severance she felt from her patron deity, Septur.

To this, our esteemed Secretary Danvess turned the conversation toward history, a subject she handled with no small measure of insight. She pointed out, with a certain astuteness, that the demons have long been blamed for the imprisonment of the deities of the world — those gods who did not, as the legends say, perish when Mt. Ashar, once a noble peak, was cast down to the lowest depths of Alar, at least in terms of the land. But we find ourselves rushing ahead of our tale, for it must be understood by our readers that, at the time, Mt. Ashar remained a vague and largely mythical figure, a rumor drifting on the winds of legend. So, Secretary Danvess, with the air of one who knows the weight of history’s secrets, spoke of these imprisonments and of the First Mage Feldon Cyrwic, and of the Dawnbreak, that great and fabled event which is said to have freed the gods from their prisons in Sardon-Mal.

It was here that Brixta, we believe, showed a particular curiosity about her own nature, and to that inquiry, Danvess had little to offer. Yet, with a knowing glance, she urged our dear sorcerous friend to seek the counsel of Professor Thornwood and a certain Professor Pelligrath. It is said, and we have it on good authority, that they were in deep discussion within the confines of her office — debating history, theory, and the many mysteries that lay between the arcane and the historical — speaking for some length of time as the Secretary's schedule permitted, and emerging from the conversation with an esteem for one another that could only be described as fond.

But should we say that they found the answers to their questions? Ah, no, I think not. For while our dear Secretary may have illuminated them with knowledge most esoteric, she did not possess the answers they sought. Time, alas, was short, and our busy Ms. Danvess was on a schedule. With that, the party was graciously excused and left to their own devices.

These famous devices, we must note, were to be delivered into the hands of the ever-patient Professor Thornwood. Now, while we possess certain details concerning this forthcoming interaction, surely the most intriguing of all, we hesitate, out of respect for our most generous and indulgent readers, to reveal too much at this juncture. For, should we expose our hand too soon, we might unwittingly make a misstep, and that, we believe, would be a disservice to the tale yet unfolding. Our research is far from complete, and there are still many pages of history to be uncovered in this particular chapter.

Thus, with all humility, we implore our dear readers to indulge us for just a moment longer as we sift through the last archives and pour over the final records. In doing so, we assure you, the rewards will be yours, as a more faithful and, dare we say, a far more entertaining narrative will soon grace your eyes, one worthy of the diversion of your precious time. Until we meet again!