In the town of Hatalwitch in the region of Jermonis:
Erif sat on his bed, staring at the oil lamp's flame waver and die out as it used the last of the oil.
Strange, how simply a flame can calm me down.
He stood up and refilled the lamp. Relighting the flame, he heard a knock on the front door. Sighing he went to answer it. Erif opened the door and a very dignified-looking boy dressed in exquisite silk clothing bowed down and straightened. He had many tatoos. His face and arms were lined with them. They seemed familiar to him.
"Come, Erif. You are needed. A very interesting fact has been discovered about you. If not careful it can be dangerous. So please, follow me." the boy said promptly.
" And yet something else." Erif said exasperated.
What now? I haven't even gotten used to the LAST thing they told me!
As Erif followed the messenger to an elegant coach he thought about a day around three months ago...
Erif remembers sitting in his old shack. It had been his home for as long as he could remember. Though he tried to fix it up, it remained nothing but a hole in the wall. One roomed and floor less, Erif had made it a home nonetheless. He was sitting on a pile of hay that he used as a mattress and playing with the flame from the one lamp that lit up his small home. A soft feeble tap disrupted him. Going to the door, he saw one of the royals' messengers. The messenger gave a curt bow.
"Erif? The King requests your presence. Come as is."
That was when the King announced to him he was the lost prince. Lost prince. Erif didn't believe him then and he didn't believe him now. He didn't believe he was anyone special. Following the messenger now reminded him of following the messenger three months ago.
What now? Have they discovered I'm not really the LOST PRINCE? Are they going to kick me back to my little old shack? That really wouldn't be all that bad...
Climbing into the coach, he saw that the messenger had too. That meant he wasn't really a messenger.
"Erif, I am Sabrin. Do you know of the school Quarin School of Magick?"
"Yes."
This boy was different. Erif liked him. He didnt call him Prince Steriffin like everyone else insisted upon.
"Your attendance is requested there. We understand if you refuse. After all, you just went through a big change in your life recently."
And he was direct.
"Sabrin," Erif replied in common, "Even if I wanted to go I couldn't. I'm not magick."
"But you are." Sabrin pushed, switching to common as well, "You don't call what you can do with fire magick?"
How do I reply to that? I know it's not just a talent. But... Is that REALLY magick?
"Just my point." Sabrin replied as if he had read Erif's mind. "The term starts in a week. I'll be back if you want to think about it. Three days sound good?"
"That's fine, I guess. But I have to insist I'm not magick. I mean. I KNOW I'm not." Erif pressed.
"Well, You can contend all you want Erif. I will not deny that you are magic, though. As the school will not either." Sabrin concluded, speaking in royal again.
"Fine with me. See you in three days." Erif said, refusing to give into his royal blood.
