The noise of the packed auditorium was all too familiar to Samuel. At Kiinor’s suggestion, he was outside the room, in a side chamber that wasn’t available to the students. This way, they could get everyone in order and make their announcements without any distractions. But despite nearly three feet of wall between himself and the crowd, Samuel could still feel the rumble of hundreds of feet, layered over the babble of bored students gathering for a tedious task.

It was only then that Samuel remembered that he hated being the center of attention. The thought would have occurred to him long before this had he not been distracted by the chaotic morning. Now that he had a chance to sit and prepare himself, however, he felt that uneasy surge of nerves at the thought of speaking to such a large group. How was it that one could forget something so important until it was right in front of them?

The sound of the footsteps and muttering died down, and Samuel only heard one voice. He didn’t recognize it, but he assumed it to be the Dean of the College. The last Dean had been a relative of Archmage Peran, though thankfully without his murderous, greedy nature. He hadn’t taken the time to learn much about Dean Peran at the time, and now that he tried to remember the woman, not much came to him.

“Welcome to a new year within the College,” the new Dean, a broad-chested man by the sound of his voice, said. “I know it has only been a week since classes began, but I hope you are learning a great deal.”

A quiet mutter from the students, though it was quickly silenced. No other response. This didn’t seem to bother the Dean, who continued in his address. He went through standard announcements and reminders, from announcing the changing times of practice fields to admonishing one group of students, who went unnamed, for dueling outside College grounds. Samuel tried to sit attentively and patiently, perspiring slightly despite the light robe.

“Now, as some of you may have heard through rumors among the campus today, we have a new addition to the administration of the College,” the new Dean said. “Not only that, but we welcome back a respected former student who has returned under the service of Arcana, God of Knowledge and Magic, Patron saint of our school.”

That was new, Samuel thought. From what he could remember, nearly every god had been named a Patron to the College. The Mage’s Guild had even gone so far as to name a representative for each deity so that their support and power could not go unnoticed. Samuel himself had stood in that line for his first gathering in the auditorium, in front of a banner bearing Arcana’s sigil. Perhaps the Dean was merely being flattering for the sake of impact, Samuel thought. He saw no reason the school would discard the support of the other gods.

“I am sure you have heard much about this man,” the Dean continued. “He is the oldest known follower of Arcana and his chosen Champion.”

More mutters from the crowd now, and, in his panicked state, Samuel could hear the murmurs of interest that rose to gleeful calls for him to show. Swallowing tensely, Samuel closed his eyes. He hoped with all his might that the Dean would not say the next few words, but to no avail.

“Yes indeed. Please give your applause and respect to the new Archmage of Knowledge, Samuel Bragg!”

It was almost as if a large explosion had taken place on the other side of the wall. Applause from what sounded like thousands of hands rang in his ears, with cheers and whistles that almost deafened him. He stood, trying to ignore the way his knees were shaking, and stepped into the circle inscribed on the chamber floor. This had been set up in advance by Kiinor, to ensure that Samuel did not have to walk through the crowd of students to reach the stage. He used his own mana to power the runes and closed his eyes against the bright flash of light they created.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself on the stage, staring out at a group of students more than twice the size of the old College’s population. His robe billowed impressively as he popped into place, and the applause redoubled, many of the students, particularly the apprentices, springing to their feet in a standing ovation. Samuel blinked in shock at the reception, unsure why so many would applaud a stranger they knew nothing about.

A strange thought struck him as he stood there, his mouth dry and his heart pounding. He’d expected to be too nervous to speak, and wouldn’t have been surprised if he fainted from the sudden stress. But as he looked out at the sea of colored robes, he couldn’t help but notice a faint light of eagerness in every student he studied, regardless of their rank. It was a look he knew all too well. It was the thirst for learning, the burning curiosity that led him to learn, to practice, and to master any new spell that had been placed in front of him. And quite suddenly, he didn’t feel as nervous.

“Would you like to say a few words, Archmage Bragg?” The Dean asked over the sound of the clapping. “The students are eager to meet you.”

Samuel spared half a glance at Kiinor, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod of encouragement. Suppressing the nervous grin that threatened to break out, Samuel nodded and took a step forward to stand behind the podium. The Dean, who did indeed have a broad chest, as well as a long black beard and a friendly grin, stepped gracefully to the side to give him space.

“Well,” Samuel said hesitantly, not sure where to begin. “I must admit, I did not expect to find myself an Archmage on my first day back to school.”

The students were silent now, each face turned to stare intently at him. He’d expected some kind of reaction and was taken aback at the austere, focused expressions. Clearing his throat, he cast his mind about for something to speak on. Anything would do, surely. But his mind was blank. Should he introduce himself? That was a good place to start.

“As the Dean mentioned, my name is Samuel Bragg,” he said, wincing internally as his voice echoed out into the empty air. “I attended this College myself, long ago, when I was a newcomer in the city. I had just left my village and taken over my father’s estate when I found my interest in and love for magic.”

Finally, many of the students rumbled in agreement with the sentiment, and Samuel felt his spirits lift a little. Some turned to their neighbors to whisper something, giving the illusion that a slight breeze was spinning through the hall. Bolstered, Samuel plowed on.

“I remember it as if it were yesterday. Every day was filled with more learning, and each night was chock-full of studying, finishing papers or demonstrations at the last minute so I could be ready for class the next day.”

Several members of the crowd, including the Adepts and Masters, laughed at this, and there were a few shouts of agreement. Samuel noticed that Kiinor’s name was mentioned loudly a few times, which spawned more laughter. It seemed that Kiinor was well-known for his tough lessons. That was to be expected, knowing his teacher.

“I had my fair share of troubles, of course,” he said with a slight grin. “I was an awkward fellow, trying my best to succeed, without a thought of how my distance affected those around me. Archmage Kiinor, in particular, I clashed with, on more than one occasion.”

Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned that, he thought. He glanced towards Kiinor to see the man shuffling his feet slightly, his gaze straight ahead and unblinking. He was doubtlessly remembering their fight as well, and it was all too clear that he did not enjoy the reminder. Samuel mentally kicked himself and made a note to apologize later. Time to move to a brighter topic, he told himself.

“But all that struggle and hard work was, and continues to be worth it,” he said, his voice more serious now. “Mastery of the arcane requires constant application and practice.”

“I am excited to return to these halls of learning and honored to serve as Archmage. I hope to contribute all that I can to our stores of knowledge, and that we can continue to learn from each other in this historic school, so that we may pursue mastery of magic. Apprentice, Acolyte, Adept, Master, it doesn’t matter. We are all called to study, and perfect our skills. May this new year provide you with that chance.”

Applause broke out again. Unsure if it was enough, Samuel stepped back. He couldn’t think of anything else to say in any event, but the students didn’t seem to mind. They clapped politely for several seconds, only quieting down when the Dean resumed the podium. Samuel returned to his place beside Kiinor, noting the nod of approval that the old Archmage gave him.

“Embarrassing story aside, well done,” Kiinor said. “You’re a much better speaker than you were before.”

“Just wait,” Samuel replied out of the corner of his mouth. “Once they see how weak I am, they’ll forget my speech.”

The Archmage of Destruction let out a short snort of laughter. “Better learn quick, then. They’ll expect you to be better than a Master.”