AN: This has been a long time coming as many who remember this story will attest. After looking over my old notes, and the current state of this tale, I believe I can do it greater justice.

Originally, I just intended to continue where it left off as though there was no epic multi-month hiatus. However, I cannot in good conscience do that. The plot itself was fine, but I feel like the story needs a good bit more polish.

On the one hand, I suck. Those who love this story just want to see it finish. On the other hand, those who have never heard of it, or who would love to see a better version of it will be happy. Either way it won't take nearly as long to get back to the current stopping point of this story as there are but nine chapters.

This segment of the story alone is already twice as descriptive as the original version, and we get a bit of personality out of our MC.

Enjoy.

Chapter 1.2 in a hour or two.

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Episode 1.1

Clean, professional, boring as hell. The interior of the school chancellor's office defined the nature of the man who resided therein. At that moment, however, two men were present. One was a tall creature of medium build with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes. The other was a bushy browed older man who possessed an expression of such great sourness that even a lemon would be jealous of his elite mannerisms.

John was not pleased to see the stuffy old magician again. Never on good terms with the hateful old bastard, he spent the majority of his life as a disappointment to the man.

Being the son of the arch mage in residence at Goldstead Junior Arcana Technical was not as invigorating as some would surmise. John possessed no magical gifts, no reason to be in attendance beyond a desire to study magic, and no real prospects for a career as a mage. All humans held a certain level of capacity to develop magical proficiency through study. Only those with an innate heritage related to specific gifts would be able to master the art in a rapid manner.

The average gifted student might be able to complete the preparatory courses at the tech school in two years and move on to a true arcane university. The average non-gifted student might take four or five years. John had been in attendance for seven.

From an early age he'd shown great promise in the fundamentals, but he lacked the raw power necessary to advance in the mystic arts. He could use only a few basic tier-one spells per day before he became totally exhausted. It was frustrating for both the young man and his illustrious father. The older man made certain that John always knew of those frustrations as well.

"Chancellor Dean, I don't know what else to say," remarked John in an even tone of voice. They'd been arguing for over an hour at this point. John's grades were stellar. He possessed an astounding encyclopedic knowledge of a variety of arcane information. However, he simply never passed the final examinations to become an actual mage. His ability to focus magical energy never rose to the level needed to show his mastery of the force itself.

"Mr. Dean," replied the Chancellor in a cold tone of voice.

The manner in which his father spoke caught John's attention. It lacked any form of comfort, or concern. His father speaking in that tone of voice always meant trouble.

"You know the rules. You have failed to graduate within a reasonable allotment of time. You have taken and passed every course this institution has to offer you. Further there is no position available to you here, as you have even spent two years as a teacher's assistant."

John glared at his father. The anger in his eyes, the unspoken frustrations built up over a lifetime of hellish training at that man's behest, it nearly overwhelmed him. It took him a moment to collect himself. He was no beast, no mere demi-human. He was a man, and must act in the manner of a rational human being no matter the situation.

"What do I do then? My entire life has been spent in service of becoming a mage," said John in a clear and strong tone of voice.

The chancellor shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry son, but I just don't see it happening. You have the skills and knowledge. Yet, you lack the capacity to use it effectively. Most students with your skills and experience would be preparing for graduation from university by now."

John's anger rose to the surface once more. "There has to be something I can do! I've been practicing and training since I was a child. I've spent twenty years of my life studying to be a mage. I can't just let that go." He glared hotly at the hateful old man, his anger writ large upon his face.

The sheer hell that the old bastard put him through, it was all for the day that John would become a true mage. Now, he was supposed to simply toss aside two decades of unending bullshit and constant teachable moments simply because he needed more time? It was ridiculous.

"I'm sorry. There is nothing left for you here. You may try correspondence courses, or private tutors, of course. However, I will be honest with you. I do not believe it will help," stated the man in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "You simply do not have what it takes to become a mage."

"My entire life you've pushed me, taught me, tormented me! You've constantly tried to help me excel, to follow in your footsteps! Now you're saying I should just do something else?" snapped the man venomously. "I'm simply to abandon my entire life's work, and all of those days of training?"

"Yes," replied the chancellor, his voice cold and unconcerned. He then offered John a thin, cruel, smile. "You would be well advised to take up a trade. I have recently learned that plumbers and electricians are currently in high demand. You might look into that."

John stared at him for a moment as a cold feeling of dread washed over him. The man who stood over him throughout his entire life; the man who constantly demanded his continuing efforts to become a mage, that iron-willed man had given up on him.

"No. I'll be a mage," replied John stubbornly. He didn't care what it took; he would show this detestable old fossil that he was capable of achieving greatness.

The living nightmare that the old bastard forced him to endure throughout his life could not simply be forgotten. The chancellor called it proper training, but many others would have called it child abuse. Some might have seen it as attempted murder. Give up now? After all of that? There was no possible way that John would do such a thing.

Chancellor Dean shook his head. "I wish you well Mr. Dean. However, I must ask you to leave the premises. You are done here."

John stood up then and eyeballed the chancellor for a moment. He snorted not long after and said, "You're right. I am done here."

The chancellor watched his son turn away and walk out of his door for what would no doubt be the last time. It was an interesting sensation for the older man, watching John walk away. A brief few seconds passed after the door closed, the older man sighed wearily.

He noted the time afterward and proceeded to forget about him. There were other sons in other cities. Several of them had already graduated university and gone on to become great mages. What was the loss of a single untalented child, really? It was better this way.

John's very existence was a contemptible joke for the arch mage. At one time, he'd thought the boy would grow to be one of the most powerful and useful tools in his legacy. Now? Even the fact that the useless child shared his last name was an insult.

"Such a waste," said the man after a moment. Still, what if the angry fool were to end up dead in a ditch somewhere? The shame of his bloated corpse appearing on the nightly news would be an undeniable stain upon the House of Dean.

Further arrangements needed to be made. He must be seen as attempting to be a good father despite the wayward nature of his untalented child. Nothing else would be allowed. John brought more than enough shame upon the family name as things stood.

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