Fidgeting hands are dangerous signals. They betray the mind and the heart. When the eyes look away, and the body seeks to provide an outlet to expel thoughts and seek comfort, the hands are the first to answer. They answer with peeled fingernails, ripped hang nails, cuticles pulled loose, skin peeled at the edges, and traces of blood. Without a robe to hide those traitorous hands, one might find themselves betrayed in an important moment when one mustn’t appear nervous. Flip thanked the gods that he had worn his baggier skirt so that he could hide his traitorous hands in the faded folds of fabric.

“Master Finnigan, your record is quite impressive. If you are as accomplished as you claim, you are most certainly welcome among the midst of the Violet Cords.” Uli grumbled out the words. His sturdy beard masked the tough skin of his face and the mild unease Flip could sense in his words. The dwarf's brow, furrowed in contemplation, was an ill omen.

“Yes, yes. These letters of recommendation, though… odd, seem to indicate that you are skilled in most schools of magic.” Lady Erma, situated just left of the dwarvish mage, seemed more positive, though Flip couldn’t be sure. “Though... I can’t find a single instance of proficiency with a glamour.”

The rough assortment of papers settled in front of the arcanist on her desk looked much like garbage. They had been assembled over a great deal of time and the most shining recommendations had been picked from the less polite ones. Flip was grateful that the town of Builend had their archives open to the public, otherwise he might not have been able to borrow so many records of his actions.

“Not that you should really go around casting enchantments on ordinary folk.” Uli chimed in with a slightly more casual tone.

“No, no. Of course not.” Flip managed a casual laugh, though it came off as more nervous than he wanted.

“Yes, of course not.” Erma nodded in assent. “But we think it is an important aspect of magic to understand. It is the most emotional of the schools of magic and incredibly useful against the less intelligent problems that one might encounter… a dire beast, perhaps, could be directed away from a civilized area with a charm and without having to resort to violence. Or, should a less reputable practitioner of magic need to be questioned, any number of charms could encourage them to divulge any potentially untoward machinations.”

“There was a conjuror, several years ago…” Flip began hesitantly. It was not a very useful story, though it could display a higher level of problem solving than they expected from him. “A conjuror who thought it a good idea to raid our cemetery for necromantic components…”

“Yes, I see that. Your mayor wrote about this encounter. He claims you animated a prized fruit tree from the local chapel of irons to entangle the mage while several clerics of the same chapel worked to put a number of undead back to rest. I would like to see some enchantment.” Erma’s tone made Flip uncomfortable.

“I can do them.” Flip mumbled quietly. “Charms. They don’t always work the way you expect them to. People can be confusing. Magic makes sense though, so… charms make sense.”

“I’m familiar with the struggle, Finnigan.” Erma had a more gentle sound to her voice now. She was being nicer, probably pitying him. He looked like an elderly unsettled hedgemage after all. Why not pity him for attempting to become certified in a more prestigious guild?

“Perhaps it would be fitting,” Uli chuckled to himself, “if we had the old boy charm you, Lady Erma?”

Erma was not entertained by the dwarf’s words. Flip wasn’t entirely sure, but he had the impression that Uli intended for the display to backfire and make a fool of either caster or target. Or both. He seemed the type to enjoy the discomfort of others.

“As much as I don’t want to have you enjoy that, Uli, it would be adequate proof.”

“You’ll let me register if I can charm you?” Flip was skeptical. The Violet Cords had a prestigious reputation among arcanists across the various countries where they were permitted to organize. Such a simple test of skill surely couldn't make or break his registration.

“Register, sure.” Uli laughed, more boisterously now. “Hells, I’ll even vote to have you entered in as a class B magus.”

“Don’t give him ideas, Uli. Finnigan, I’d like to see what sort of spell you’d use to charm me… what sort of emotion you would use to anchor the spell. Do you understand?”

“Of course.” Flip stood, nervousness now evident in his revealed hands as he smoothed back his shabby hair. What he wouldn’t give to be wearing his hat right now. The comfort that a soft woolen brim on the brow would provide would do wonders for his confidence. “Of course. And given your consent I hope you understand that I will be selecting a spell I think would fit best.”

“I expect nothing less. You came to us for certification after all, that usually means you have something to prove.” Erma sat back in her chair.

The woman’s legs were still crossed. A sign of contempt. She was a mix of odd postures. It probably stemmed from her relative youth. She was the youngest one in the room, after all. She had done much in so little time and demanded the respect she needed. She had to be bold, had to be fierce, had to work harder than most to be in such high standing with the Cords. For a fellblood half-human too, her efforts must have been admirable.

“Tulips—

split petal

and pistil;

ripped ridge

and stem—

do part”

Flip muttered his incantation, mouthed it really. Only a breath escaped his mouth as he traced the required glyph on the table between him and Erma. The strain of the spell was negligible. It wasn’t difficult, which led Flip to let out a sigh at his expected failure. There was usually more strain with enchantment, emotions often escaped Flip and the manipulation of emotions was no small task for the wizard. Placing a new emotion in the mind of another creature was difficult, and Flip was nearly certain he had failed. Lady Erma was an accomplished mage, and surely capable of shrugging off an underpowered spell, not to mention that the ease at which the spell went off felt like it had missed her entirely.

“Flip…” Erma’s voice was different.

Flip chanced a second of direct eye contact and he saw something he had not expected. Her expression was gentle, friendly. Loving even. Not in the way Flip was sure most people expressed those things, though. This was the other side of the dread Flip had wanted to avoid. The familiar kindness of the eyes, the relaxed brow, the odd upward curl to the left side of the lip. These were the beginnings of the expression he had learned from a specific person. The likeness, once realized, was disparaging.

Without further need, and in hopes of avoiding further despair of his own, Flip waved his hand, dropped his spell, and slumped back down in the chair opposite the table from the two other mages. In want of something to cover his eyes, Flip gave in and retrieved his wide brimmed pointed hat from atop his walking stick and pulled it down over his head. It provided adequate coverage.

“Well that was funny!” Uli was in the midst of raucous laughter now. “You about erased her whole personality with that! She was makin’ doe eyes and all. Master Finnigan, if you can do that whenever, I’ve not a care in the world what rank you certify as. So long as you never do magic like that to me.”

It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Flip was never quite sure if he was actually using enchantment magic when he performed spells that overrode the mentality of a person. They always had the same look in their eyes when he used charms. The same expressions, the same longing look he’d only ever really seen once before.

“Master Finnegan.” Erma’s voice was dry and empty. She was upset, that much was clear to Flip. “You’ve proven capable. Though I honestly didn’t expect such a dominating enchantment as that. It was… interesting. I don’t think I’ve heard of a spell quite like that.”

“It’s still a work in progress…” Flip didn’t dare remove the barrier of his hat from in front of his eyes. “If you wouldn’t mind sharing your experience? I still have yet to experience it myself.” He doubted he ever would, he had tried to copy a spell from his uncle's spellbook exactly and it never worked as described.

“Perhaps we can discuss that spell another day. But, for the matter at hand, I think you qualify for Cord certification.” Erma didn’t sound pleased, but she had gotten the reassurance she had requested.

“I know master Uli was making a joke at my… our, expense. I don’t expected to be admitted to the guild as a class B magus. I just want to have access to membership certification so I can buy certain reagents and components.” Flip stood again, head still down.

“Oh, you thought I was joking?” Uli grunted, standing himself; though the dwarf only reached Flip's abdomen. “You think I’m not a man o’ my word? You just put a glamour on an accomplished mage in the most relaxed display I’ve seen in years. If I didn’t think I could punch you square in the belly and be done with it, I’d be terrified of what you can do. You think you can be humble after that? And I mean, come on. The humility is great, and it makes me less scared of you, but I can tell you have the study of a man who lives for nothing else than magic…”

“What master Uli is trying to say,” Erma interjected, “Is that you do qualify to be entered as a class B magus of the Violet Cords. Your references are sound, and we’ve heard of you before. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be given a higher registration than what you’ve requested.”

“I’m sorry about…”

“Don’t apologize. It makes me feel bad.” Uli butted in. “Don’t make me feel bad for thinking you got it. Take your cords, take the certification, take the access. And take some pride too, young man.”

Flip nodded silently.

“Then, thank you.”

“Talk to Dottie on the way out, she’ll get you your cords. Class B wears three cords, usually around the waist.” Erma, still sitting, motioned for Flip to leave. He only saw her hands below the brim of his hat.

Flip took note of the five cords woven in a braid that wrapped around Erma’s waist. Purple fiber ropes, little medallions at both ends.

“And components?”

“Once you’re fully registered, send a letter to the guild via Dottie’s desk. Specify the nature of the research and the required components. If it gets approved, it’ll be sent to you post haste.” Erma finally stood. That seemed to signal the conclusion of the meeting. “And we’ll want to have another assessment in two or three months to see if you qualify for promotions.”

“Thank you, again.” Flip held out his hand to the dwarf first. “Master Uli. Lady Erma.” The second handshake seemed an appropriate time to make eye contact again. Her expression seemed almost akin to confusion, maybe discomfort, but also pity. The signs were there for all of them, Flip had to run them against memory to be sure.

The second Flip left the room, he turned the satchel at his side from an inside out configuration to a standard inside in configuration and retched into it. He had brought a satchel of annihilation for that sole reason. A good wizard is always prepared, even for weak nerves.