June 10th

Alfred Jones, just turned sixteen-years-old, was slogging his way through a marsh. He was soaked from his waist all the way down to his ruined boots, he was covered in mud and other slimy gunk, and he was shivering convulsively every few seconds. But he wasn't going to let any of that get him down, because today was the day he'd been looking forward to for the past ten years of his life.

The day when he would finally meet his mentor: the one who would take him from the totally average magic-user he was today and turn him into a super-powered, incredible, expert mage.

It would be nice if his mentor wasn't hiding in the middle of a swamp, though. Headmaster Roma had gone through the process of finding a mentor in one of his 'Introduction to Advanced Magic' lectures. The main thing to remember, he'd said, was that you didn't find your mentor. Your mentor found you! You'd get a vague feeling that would usually lead you toward them, but it was ultimately up to them to reveal themselves. Some people (his brother) got lucky and would be sitting in the cafeteria when poof, a flaming ball of light would appear in front of them and announce 'I am your new mentor; now give me those French fries'.

Alfred had brought some French fries with him, just in case. Although he wasn't sure that they'd be any good after this swamp trek.

He'd been insanely excited this morning; he'd just turned sixteen yesterday and everyone knew that you were destined to meet your mentor with a couple days of your sixteenth birthday. So when he'd felt that twinge in his head, like someone had whispered 'go to the marsh behind the stables' in his ear, he'd immediately jumped out of his seat in the middle of class, gave a war-whoop, and ran out without a second thought.

Now he was starting to feel that excitement wane a tiny bit as he glanced up toward the rapidly darkening sky. Everyone knew that all sorts of night-loving monsters lived in the swamps and forests surrounding the school.

"Yo, um, is anybody out here?" he called, wrapping his arms around himself as he searched the surrounding trees for any signs of life. "My name's Alfred Jones. I'm supposed to be meeting my mentor?"

"Your mentor is still trying to decide whether they want to meet you, however. Has anyone ever told you that your haircut is absolutely atrocious from above?"

Alfred just barely managed to keep from falling onto his ass as he jumped in surprise. He spun around and then hurriedly lifted his head toward the sky. And met the eyes of a man sitting high above him, sitting on a branch that didn't look like it should be able to support his weight.

The man's eyebrows rose, as if asking what the problem was and then he stood, the branch not even bending beneath him. "So, you are the infamous Alfred F. Jones. And you consider yourself to be worthy to be taught by me, the god of this land?"

"Yeah!" Alfred dug in his pockets and pulled out a handful of slightly-squished French fries. "I brought some French fries!"

The god stared at him for a long moment and then Alfred was knocked off balance as something beneath his feet shifted. He fought to keep himself upright, his arms flailing, but something else moved underfoot and he splashed down in the filthy water.

"Dude!" He spluttered as the god took a step off the branch and slowly levitated toward the ground. "You could just say you don't like French fries."

"You're an arrogant twat." He landed beside Alfred and the water actually parted around his feet as he stepped forward and then leaned right into his face. "The only reason I've agreed to teach one of you stupid, hormonal humans is because it's the only way to make sure you learn to actually respectour earth and your magic."

Alfred grinned. You know, from this distance he could actually tell that the god was pretty cute. Just look past the grouchy exterior. "And because you and I have an undeniable bond that can never be broken! We learned about the bond between mage and their mentor spirit in Advanced Magic." He thrust out his now filth-covered hand. "Alfred F. Jones, at your service. And what's your name?"

The god's scowl just deepened and then he sniffed and took a few steps away. "My true identity is beyond your human comprehension. You may call me Arthur."

An appropriately stuffy name for a stuffy god. "Great." Alfred pushed himself out of the muck and then pointed toward the god and sent him one of his famous hero grins. "Wait 'til I show you what I'm made of. Someday I'm gonna be the most amazing mage this world has ever seen. You aren't gonna regret being my mentor."

He thought he caught a glimpse of a tiny grin before it disappeared behind the usual scowl. Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and snorted. "We'll see about that, Alfred Jones."