Corindrian and I returned to Arimens unharmed, but in low spirits. During the course of the journey my master lamented to me that he had given up his protege, his replacement. When I questioned Corindrian on why he let Darronin take Ornookian away, my master could only say that it was a necessary tragedy that we left him in Temini. I was cross with him for a time, for I felt simply as a pawn in his games.

Seeing my anger at him, Corindrian began to bring me to the conferences of the Arimensian Council of Warlocks as his assistant and protege. Although we both knew that I would not take his place on the council, for that was an honor now reserved for Jaryne and I still intended to return to my village and purchase the apothecary once the war ended, I was still humbled by the opportunity to sit in the hallowed halls of Urostrian once more.

During our time in the Temini Barony, the army of Junumianis had advanced up to the fort on the river Kalipaonin, and no further. However, now that Spring had come (and with it, the full aid of the Temini Barony) the armies of Moringia had managed to push their dreaded enemy backwards, a few days on horseback beyond Dew’s Flat.

Ynguinian and I spent many late nights discussing matters. On optimistic days we discussed when we might get married, and where the ceremony would be. On those days we were clutched by fear that our villages had been destroyed by the war we talked of elopement. Each time, however, it was clear we would not marry until the war had ended, for. Ynguinian had yet to finish his training and take his oath, and I was expected to serve my promised time in the kingdom’s army.

The politics of the Arimensian Council of Warlocks had become more complicated since Corindrian and I departed for Temini. All communications sent by the mages were required to be screened by Yularelian, Ghalyne, or a knight of Mentillian to prevent the sending of any magickal information. While typically not an issue for the mages of Arimens, for they were secretive even amongst themselves, this rule perturbed my teacher greatly. Corindrian had insisted that we copy as many writings as we could to send to Ornookian, including the spell by which to dispel that bizarre storm that had nearly consumed the city. When I asked the weathermaster how he intended to deliver the magickal writings to Ornookian, who would probably refuse to have anything to do with us, he responded with frustration and stubbornness.

“Nayinian, we will figure out how to deliver these writings to Ornookian soon. For now, we will keep writing, for he will need many tomes if he is going to be of any use in Temini.”

Over the course of months we copied a small library of spells and magickal texts. By the end of the process the tower’s library was covered in inks, and the stubs of waxen candles that had burned far too late into the evening. I had never seen Corindrian so focused and determined in a task before. His quality of writing did not fail him, even on little slip and in his seemingly-constant anger at the forbiddance of the shipment of magickal supplies. What time he did not spend copying texts, or arguing with the council to overturn the embargo on the supplies of spellcraft he spent with me teaching the same spell of repulsion he had used nearly two years prior.

Many times I would wake at my small desk in the library for my master to scold me that I was sleeping instead of spending my time learning the intricacies of the spell of his creation. Constantly he would hound me to study that spell, even though I could not comprehend the strange incantations that my master had crafted. The words themselves were elusive and ambiguous, and the motions of the casting were almost improvisation in nature. It was unlike any spell I had previously cast, nor any I had encountered. I now understand that Corindrian had foreseen other similar catastrophes to the great storm that had nearly felled Arimens, for I have encountered similar cataclysms in the nearly-twenty years since that fateful storm.

Unlike the spells given to man by Knowledge that lay within the domains of the thirteen patrons, the nature of these calamities and their spellcraft is desecration itself, designed to outmatch normal magicks with guile and subterfuge. It is beyond rot, and beyond woe. It seeks only to consume, and pervert the natural order of things. It is no wonder to me, now, that Corindrian was ill for so long after the casting of the barrier around Arimens. If any other mage had attempted Corindrian’s spell it is with utter certainty that they would have perished, for no mage before or since has known of weather to such a degree that the weathermaster had.

Months of constant study were not enough to truly teach me Corindrian’s spell, and without warning the mage changed the focus of study. Instead of studying his spell, or copying magickal items for Onookian that were forbidden to be sent, my teacher began to instruct me in matters of combatting the efforts of opposing mages.

A fight between two mages is as much about subtlety as a sword is about farming, which is to say: it is not a subtle or detailed craft. It is more about modifying the spells one has learned and knows well, than it is to prepare specific items as a means to negate the other mage’s magicks. My lessons in these matters began with Corindrian sending harmless magicks towards me, and having to dispel or maniplute them with whatever I had prepared. The weathermaster would not inform me of when this practice would occur until minutes beforehand, for there is usually no foreknowledge in magickal warfare. To make matters more difficult I had to memorize spells to tutor Jaryne with, so many of my spells were small and delicate, and therefore not suited for the tasks Corindrian asked of me.

Over many months of practice, up to a few weeks before what would have been the beginning of my fourth year with the weathermaster, I became more skilled in the matter. I was no master in the matter, as many times I had fallen sick attempting to improvise alterations to a simple spell to please my master. I improved enough to meet Corindrian’s standards; high as they were. While this did not prepare me for all aspects of magickal battle, it was a crucial experience. If it were not for his training, I would certainly have perished to the first of Junumianis’s brutal mages, for they caused me much trouble when I fought in that terrible war.

Near the end of my third year with Corindrian, it became apparent that it would be my last as well. While my suspicions that my time in Arimens was ending soon were roused when I began to study war magicks, it was not confirmed until one of the last meetings of the council I attended. In addition to those who normally attended such as the mages and their apprentices and the king, there were also unfamiliar faces present under Urostrian’s mighty dome. Colonel Haryne and two men in military outfit of higher rank: I would soon learn they were Commander Partelin and Lieutenant Jurin of the Moringian army. The commander and lieutenant were in-charge of a fifth of the kingdom’s soldiers, and their station was the fort on the river Kalipaonin that Ynguinian and I had crossed many years ago. Their presence was unexpected, as the distance between Arimens and the fort had become significantly more dangerous in the years since Ynguinian and I had walked those roads. If both men were present, it made clear that this was not a small request.

Partelin addressed the council, making clear what he sought: three mages, for the death of Zuryne and his apprentices, had greatly diminished the capabilities of the Kalipaonin Regiment to push back against Junumianis’s spellcraft. Yularelian, who seemingly had the regent’s ear at this juncture, was enthusiastic about the request and offered up his apprentice Quatimonian. Colonel Haryne, who was also present, spoke to offer up my services to the army as a fulfillment of the contract I had signed years ago.

Corindrian attempted to delay my service, asking for more time to train me. But the Colonel did not relent in his insistence that I comply with the contract I had signed, especially for it had been completed in front of a priest of Mentillian.

“Corindrian, you knew that one day Nayinian would have to leave your service in exchange for her fees.” The Colonel Spoke “Do not attempt to renegotiate a completed contract. Mentillian frowns on those who would forsake order and law.”

My teacher held his tongue, but I knew he was deeply upset with it. It was not pleasant news to myself either, but I kept my composure so as to not embarrass myself in front of the Commander and the Lieutenant. We left the conference early as the council discussed the final apprentice to leave for the war, as the decision had no bearing on our business and Corindrian wished to speak to me of urgent matters, and so did I.

As soon as we had reached Corindrian’s tower, I was once-more cross with the mage.

“Corindrian, why are you upset about my departure? Did you not want me gone in Temini? Why the sudden change of heart, why care about my presence if you did not before?” I asked in anger.

The weathermaster struggled to hold back the tears of sorrow, for I had hit on some amount of truth with my angry accusation, for I had not yet relieved myself of the anger I felt from the incident of my near-abandonment in Temini.

“My apprentice,” the archmage said, “I did care for you, as I do all of my students. Do not think of me as an uncaring man, because I am not. I suggested to the baron to take you because I thought it would be safest for you. I did not want you involved in the war, for it is a pointless war for fools that will only bring you suffering. I didn't intend to abandon you, but for you to use Knowledge to kill others goes against everything I now stand for and everything I have learned.

“It is true that I always intended Ornookian to be my successor, and that was a factor in my decision to offer your services to the baron. While it would have been difficult work, at least you would not be set upon a life of destruction and woe.”

I told the mage that I need not worry about woe and ruin, for it had been many years since I had acted in ignorance, or touched poisonous plants which were of Decay’s domain.

“Nayinian, plants and ignorance are not the only way one can bring about woe. Have you not seen Nature with its decaying colors and pollution? War, violence, and injustice bring far more woe than ignorance and plants. Even if you are not concerned about those things, I haven’t taught you everything I needed to, or everything I could. But, I’ve taught you how to teach yourself, and I know ignorance will not likely be your downfall. Impatience? Perhaps, but even then you’ve grown. Your spellcraft is subtle, and you have grown much since studying under me. And I know you will be a virtuous woman one day, able to help those who truly need it as I have tried to.”

I told the master that is what I had always intended, to help people and to teach others Knowledge and to heal those beyond hope. I told my master that I had not only grown as a mage, but as a person, for I had many great teachers in my travels. I told my master that I was sorry to leave him, still ignorant of many things, and not yet a master of anything.

“Nayinian, that is where you are wrong,” Corindrian said, “through patience you have learned subtlety, and perhaps that is the lesson Kalitian had intended for you. It takes patience to harness and slow Urostrian’s fury. It takes a delicate precision to draw forth Kalitian’s lizards of flame from frozen winter streams, and it takes cunning to manipulate the gift of the saint of Knowledge. It is a great irony that Nayinian, Master of Subtlety, is to fight a war. It is also, perhaps, my greatest sorrow.”