The next days were filled with preparations for Kanick's travels to Woodbend. Consulting the maps held in the grand library; a fantastically cavernous complex of rooms stuffed with books and scrolls, held deep under the foundations of the Great Temple, Kanick decided the land route would be best.

The road would take them perilously close to the Scar, which was dangerous for more reasons than the guilt it elicited. A site of such powerful magic and great death left scars on more than the landscape. Still, tracing the road, Kanick judged that the risk would be minimal, while the sea route would require sailing against the season's wind and an additional overland route regardless.

Once the route was decided, Kanick then spent his time procuring supplies. Everything in the order of mages ran on paper and that was as true for money and supplies as it was for magic. With a receipt directly from the Arch-Mages office, he had absolute authority to requisition anything he might need, not only from the Great Temple but from any enclave on their way.

In his younger days, he would have requisitioned a fast horse, some feed and rations of salted meats and oats for himself. Perhaps a tent or thicker robes if he was going to Nerrath. Now in his sixth decade the temptation was for two dependable horses to pull a wagon with enough room for an abundance of supplies and space to sleep. Instead the only indulgence he made for his advancing years was a thick, soft bedroll.

The quartermaster in Battlemages tower reluctantly handed over a scaled hauberk and long sword. He didn't intend to dress for war and he felt foolish describing why he needed the armour, but his caution won the day. The sword was a standard pattern for the order, and had no marks carved into it, at his own request. Magic would corrode the steel, if frequently used, and Kanick had always been on the notion that swords were for slashing, not magic.

Carrying everything from the storerooms to the stables left his hands aching and cramped. The cold, burning feeling was an echo of the pain from when he joined the two plates. It had never left him, and never would. He owed Regius his hands, but what had been left was damaged beyond repair. Kanick had barely traced a rune since, lacking the fine motor abilities and steady hand required and was limited to larger displays on the blackboard in his classroom.

Most mages would balk at using runes they themselves had not traced, but Kanick no longer had that luxury. Instead, he visited the scribes of the library. The writing room was tucked away from the main hall in a side room, filled with wooden stacks containing just about any type of paper required. There were whole shelves dedicated to papyrus, parchment, vellum, even reeds from the banks of the Kana and sheets of bark.

"Xhou!" Kanick exclaimed when he saw his scribe of choice sat at a desk in the writing room. He had a thick book open on top of a piece of paper. "That looks heavy," he remarked as leaned on the corner of the desk.

"An anthropology of the people's of the Zhuran Isles," Xhou said, looking up. "It's due for inspection, but it's so little used that I don't see the point. What can I help you with? Your cohort already starting to activate runes?"

"They won't be ready for many months yet, and it's likely someone else will be teaching them," Kanick felt a pang of guilt that he wouldn't continue with his current students. Xhou gave a grunt of vague interest. "I am for Woodbend, instead."

"Oh?" Xhou leaned over, eager for gossip.

"I'll need some runes traced," Kanick said, producing a list. They were fairly basic, mainly spells for fires or other useful marks to help make the journey easier.

"Ah, I see. Lightning, too? Expecting trouble?"

"Hopefully not, but one can never tell. We'll be travelling near the Scar."

"Ah," Xhou replied but didn't press the issue. No one who knew him ever did around that particular topic. "Well," the scribe said, scratching his nose, "it's more interesting than Eraborus's History of Zhuran Peoples, or writing practice runes for children, that I can tell you." He paused thoughtfully. "I take it, this is a priority? From the Arch-Mage himself?"

Kanick nodded. Xhou's eagerness to avoid copying the text before him was palpable. "I travel in two days, though I can wait if the spells need more time?"

Xhou assured him that the runes would be ready in time. Kanick confirmed the paper and size of the runes before leaving Xhou to his work. Kanick had been using his services for rune tracing for years now and trusted it like his own.

Walking back to his quarters that night Kanick felt a weariness in him. He hadn't had time to think about Regius, walking all over the Great Temple preparing for his journey. Some uncontrolled and optimistic part of his mind was treating it as visiting an old friend, and he had to keep reminding himself that the old friend in question was dead.

Keeping busy also meant putting off the first meeting with his new apprentice. Areonis had given him the young man's records and in many ways it was like looking into the past. Bera was eighteen and demonstrated a lot of promise as a battlemage. Yet, despite impeccable credentials - fourth in rune-casting, fifth in swordplay - the boy had not yet found a Master to undertake an apprenticeship with. He had come from the southern temple, via on enclave near Aaton and by all accounts was ambitious and arrogant.

Eventually Kanick dragged himself away from his preparations, deciding he could no longer avoid the young apprentice. At first, he considered sending an older acolyte, or visiting the boy's halls but instead decided to seek him out where he suspected the boy actually lived.

The practice yard of the Great Temple was a located in the estate, rather than the temple proper. Throughout its history the order had struggled with how best to train its battlemages. A thorny problem, considering the order was entirely devoted to actively avoiding battle. One solution had been to clear a lot of ground within the temple grounds and dedicate it to such a task.

The yard was ringed by a squat stone structure, rising between the carefully maintained slopes of Teneral's Gardens. Skirting the path along the pond, half watching the statuesque heron perched on a pagoda in the centre, Kanick heard a raucous cheer rise from the open-air stadium. Clearly someone was home and had drawn a crowd.

Kanick walked through the deserted portcullis and took the stairs up the nearest tower to emerge in the stands. The practice arena, a patch of dirt ringed by the thick stone walls, was a few yards beneath him, and the cheering of the crowd around him was deafening.

One of the figures, wearing white acolyte robes over padded armour, made to strike for the other using a, presumably, blunted practice sword. His face was obscured by a visored helmet, but he was tall and moved gracefully.

The other figure, who was wearing the tight robes of a full-fledged battlemage parried the blow easily, deflecting it harmlessly and striking on the upswing. The acolyte twisted away to avoid what would have been a killing blow across his trunk and pulled a scroll from inside his robes. The crowd oooh-ed with anticipation and the stands shook with the stamping of feet.

The paper was consumed with purple sparks, and a bolt of fire, more the colour of embers, shot from the orange mage's outstretched hand. The battlemage dodged the jet of flame, but too quickly, Kanick saw. The acolyte had already closed the gap and the battlemage stepped right into the swing of his blade. Had the blades been sharp then the battlemage would have dodged the flames right to his death but was instead sent staggering back towards the smouldering patch of dirt.

Still the acolyte pressed his advantage, swinging at the exposed midriff of the battlemage who was trying to avoid the embers and went stumbling backwards into the dirt. The acolyte stepped forward, lowering his sword at the battlemage's chest to keep him pinned as the crowd screamed.

With his sword kept firmly on the Battlemage's chest, the acolyte lifted a hand and removed his helmet, thick black hair tumbling down to frame a long tanned face with fine, sculpted features. The boy had it all, it seemed.

"Yield?" Bera asked.

"Yield." Agreed the battlemage on the ground. The crowd screamed with delight. No doubt they had been expecting a blood bath, which always drew big numbers in Kanick's experience, but what the crowd really loved was an upset.

The master of arms came to officially break up the bout and the assembled mages slowly began to trickle away. Kanick followed the crowd back to the entrance, but instead of turning back out into the gardens he continued into the arena.

He found the boy crowded by a posse of acolytes and apprentices, drinking deeply from a clay goblet. A smile played on his lips as the others congratulated him. He held an expression of aloof superiority.

He had, Kanick supposed, just bested a battlemage in single combat.

"Acolyte Bera," Kanick boomed, walking towards the knot of young mages. A few of the younger ones scattered, presumably in response to his teacher's robes.

"Can I help you?" The boy called back, a bite in his voice. His icey blue eyes appraised the teacher's robes with derision.

"You," Kanick said, gesturing to Bera's remaining companions, "may leave us." They looked to Bera, who's gaze remained firmly on Kanick, before deciding to take their leave. "I must congratulate you, Acolyte Bera; there are not many acolytes able to best a fully trained battlemage."

"True," Bera replied, dismissively and made to leave.

Kanick could feel his anger rising. "The Arch-Mage sent me, it seems I am in need of an apprentice and you, of a master," Kanick said, calling on all his skill as a teacher to keep his temper. He's only an acolyte, Kanick reminded himself, while a deeper voice observed that it was no wonder the boy couldn't find a master.

Bera turned back to face Kanick. "With respect, Master, I am for the Battlemages," he looked Kanick up and down. "Not the teachers. I think I will wait a little longer."

Kanick rounded on Bera, fed up already with the petulant acolyte. "A spell crafter in Woodbend is dead!" Kanick said sternly. "It is our duty to investigate! Or is the death of one of our order beneath you also?"

"Why should I care about some old crafter? They die every day," he shrugged and turned to leave.

"Because his death is suspicious," Kanick said harshly. "Is murder a reason to care?" Kanick didn't really believe foul play, but the implication was there in the investigation.

The boy at least had the dignity to look a little ashamed, and ambition enough to look interested. "Then that is a task for the battlemages," he replied slowly. "Though I fail to see why you would be involved." His haughty voice had taken on a decidedly defensive tone.

"I am involved because the Arch-Mage asked me to be involved!" Kanick replied harshly. "He also asked me to take an apprentice, specifically you!" It was Kanick's turn to wear a mask of derision. "I don't see anyone else queuing up to take you."

There was anger on the boy's face. Kanick could see how such a gifted student had managed to avoid been taken as an apprentice. "Perhaps," Bera spat, "I will go to the Northern Temple and find a master there."

Kanick nearly shot back that Nerrath was a much smaller place and a personality like his wouldn't get him far there, but he thought better of getting into a pedantic argument with an acolyte. Instead he changed tack.

"Bera... That's Aatonian, is it not?" The boy didn't reply. "No last name?" Again, acquiescent silence. "You have lived your whole life in the enclaves and temples of this order. Do you even know the first thing about travelling such a distance?"

"I'm no coward, if that's what you mean? It would be a reckless bandit to contend with me!" All bluster.

Kanick sighed. "I'm talking provisions; water, food, transport. Coin, boy." Bera's blank expression told him the boy didn't have the first idea. Before he had the chance to open his mouth with another pointlessly defensive idea Kanick continued. "If you wish to go to Nerrath, then I urge you to go. I will be heading in that direction myself." He softened his tone. "The Arch-Mage cannot compel you to be my apprentice, and you are free to go to any temple, or enclave, so long as they will have you. I can take you as far as the Low Ones, if you intend to travel that far."

"I don't... That is, I have yet to make up my mind." Bera looked unsure, now that he was expected to deliver on his declaration to go north.

"Then speak to the arch-mage, but I will be departing on the north road two days hence at dawn. Besides," Kanick added, "I might actually be able to teach you something." Kanick turned to leave.

"I always wanted to be a battlemage-" Bera started. "I should be a battlemage, not some scholar!"

"There's more to being a battlemage than fire and steel, lad," he told Bera. "It used to be that Battlemages understood that... Whatever you decide, decide it soon. Remember, two days."