Louise Summons a Grey Wizard
Chapter 1: An Unexpected Kidnapping
Time passed since the banishment at Dol Guldur, since Smaug's ruin, and since the dwarves' reclamation of Erebor.
Forty nine years to be exact.
Much had happened in those years, events both ill and peaceful for the races of men, elves, and dwarves. A power that should have been banished long ago stirred, gathering strength for his inevitable return. Creatures of darkness–orcs, goblins, trolls and other terrible things–have been witnessed in the far lands of Mordor, spreading like a sickness under dark skies. This power has not gone unnoticed, and those that oppose it have been hard at work.
Especially for a certain wizard.
In the front garden of the Baggin's lofty home, Gandalf sat reclined. Between his lips sat a pipe, the smokey contents inhaled under years of experience. The Hornblower's specially grown weed had always left him satisfied, leaving him content with almost any circumstance.
Sunlight gently coated the Shire in an orange glow, much of the green, rolling hills and hobbit holes colored as such. High above, stars started to glimmer. Residents were beginning to call their children, relatives, and friends in for dinner. Over the last half-hour, streets started to become vacant, the lights of each dwelling growing brighter as the small-folk crept their way inside.
Beside him, a young hobbit of 23 started coughing, the contents being too much for the novice smoker.
"Let it settle in the mouth. You are to taste it, not drown in it," the wizard lectured.
Frodo recovered, his pipe held awkwardly in his small hand. "Easy for you, I suppose," he protested meekly. "You've still yet to show me how to blow rings."
In a show of performance, he released a puff of smoke, blowing just enough air for it to form an expanding ring. The cloud gently floated before dissipating into nothingness.
The hobbit took another inhale, letting the gaseous substance sit in his mouth for a second before blowing it out in comical fashion. To his disappointment, it did not produce a ring.
Gandalf couldn't help but laugh. "Too much air that time!"
Frodo pouted, shrinking somewhat.
"Watch," the wizard said before inhaling from his pipe again.
It took several attempts, but eventually the young Hobbit had finally produced a ring. While it hadn't the cohesion and strong shape of the wizard's, he still felt satisfied with it.
"Frodo!?" An old Baggin shouted, his voice echoing from inside.
Parting the pipe from his mouth, the young hobbit shouted back. "We're out front! Come join us!"
Gandalf brought his attention to the scenery before him, leaving Frodo to corral the Baggin outside.
"Frodo, it's dinner time! Get inside and start helping!" the elder hobbit yelled again.
Gandalf decided to help. "I suppose you would deny yourself the finest weed in the Southfarthing?" he asked the old hobbit.
Out of a rounded, red door came an exasperated Bilbo, his eyes landing on Gandalf then on Frodo. "You two…" he muttered, pulling his own pipe out.
The years on Bilbo, Gandalf noticed, were extremely kind to the hobbit. Against all odds, the 100 year-old managed to retain his middle-aged appearance on that fateful day when the wizard offered him an adventure. By all accounts, it was unnatural, and by now he was certain it had to do with that ring the Baggin kept with him.
The ring… Gandalf knew that it was on that adventure (the details of which need not be known, but it is recommended read, should you find the time) that Bilbo had parlayed with a certain creature for it. All that the wizard knew was that the golden piece granted invisibility when worn. Bilbo was evasive in sharing anything else, and at this point, Gandalf would not press the matter.
After several minutes of chatter and smoking, Bilbo interrupted: "Alright, that's enough of that. Frodo, to the stove! Make sure to taste the stew."
The young hobbit walked into the luxurious home, carefully whipping his feet on a rug as he proceeded into the kitchen.
Bilbo turned to the grey wizard, "I suppose you'll be joining us?"
"Oh… oh yes of course," he casually agreed, grunting as he stood to his full height.
The old hobbit crossed his arms. "With how often you come and go, I should perhaps withhold hospitality. It would save me from the rumors, and my insistent relatives."
Gandalf knew that he meant nothing by it, even as he faked a hurt expression. "Not to a dear old friend, would you?" he said as he doused his pipe.
Bilbo grinned. "Yes, even you, you timeless toad."
The wizard snorted. He decided to change subjects. "The boy has been adjusting well?"
Bilbo's expression remained unchanged. "Like tadpoles to land. I don't think I've told you that he and I share the same birthday."
"Is that a coincidence?" He asked as he started walking, ducking underneath the door frame.
Bilbo shuffled past him, taking his hat and staff. "I believe it's fate, more like."
Louise hurried past students and professors, soot staining her clothes, and a raging temper silencing the chatter around her.
Reaching her room, she unlocked the latch, opening and slamming the door in swift movement. Next she unclipped her cloak, hanging it on a hook, then setting her bag of books and pouch of utensils down on a table. Organization was far from her mind concerning the massive embarrassment she suffered earlier.
She collapsed into a chair, folding her arms on the table's surface as she rested her head down, pink strands of hair falling around her. The pinkette wanted nothing more than to disappear, to melt away into nothingness.
Another spell failed, another classroom in ruins. Miss Chervreuse had been far too naive of the girl's destruction. The class had tried to warn her, but the new teacher would not listen. She had insisted the young Valliere perform what ought to have been a simple spell, a transfusion of rock into gold.
Louise began to cry, tears soaking into her sleeves.
Some time had passed, enough that the sun was starting to set beyond a window. Her cries had ceased minutes before, and she sat there basking in the heavenly body's light.
Her first year she passed simply on virtue of academics. Many professors were impressed with the young Valliere's theoretical understanding of magic, and had praised her for such. She had her tutors to thank for that, though she wished that they hadn't given up on her so easily.
What threatened Louise's tenure was her lack of practical application. The only thing she could cast (if it can even be called that) are explosions. She could increase their intensity and size, but that was it. The pinkette could not cast water, earth, fire, and wind spells if her life depended on it. It is because of this that she faced certain expulsion.
There is the Summoning Ceremony, she thought in dread.
Tomorrow would be her most important and decisive day. The ceremony would consist of second year students summoning their familiars, a life-long animal to serve them. The incantation involved is simple enough, though for her she wasn't too certain if it would be 'simple.' Even now she was certain that she would fail that too.
It was unheard that a mage failed the summoning ceremony, but perhaps she'd be the first.
Her mind whirled with solutions. She remembered advice from Colbert after one other, fantastic blunder: "whenever something isn't working, try something else!"
Louise stood, reaching for her bag and pulling out a book on advanced incantations. There was bound to be something that could help her, and she'd be damned on her name as a Valliere, that she would fail.
She is determined to summon the greatest, wisest familiar in all of Halkeginia.
A dark, star-lit sky floated above the residents of the Shire, most having gone to bed for tomorrow's labors.
"Really Gandalf, at this hour!?" Bilbo nearly shouted.
The wizard stood at the entrance of Bag End, again in the front garden. It was nightfall, only half an hour after finishing supper (not to be confused with dinner), the filling of warm, honeyed tea, wheat noodles and grounded lamb giving him strength.
"I'm afraid so. Duty calls, and I must attend to it." The elderly-looking man had retrieved his hat and staff. "There are some friends I must meet with, certain dwarves and a ranger." They need not know the exact details, especially with the enemy's spies now running about.
Frodo had accompanied the two to the front entrance. He was clearly saddened by the wizard's sudden departure, even if he had announced it much earlier in the week.
"Surely you won't miss them come morning?" The young hobbit countered.
Gandalf produced a thin smile. "I would."
"Perhaps I should withhold my open invitation," the old Baggin said.
"Bilbo!" Frodo chided.
"Oh save it! It's just like him." The old hobbit would be hard pressed to lie that he wasn't envious of Gandalf's adventures. Recent years had made him grow… restless.
The wizard chuckled. "I should expect to be back in six months… maybe eight," he ended thoughtfully.
"Eight months!?" the young hobbit cried. That wouldn't bring Gandalf back to the Shire until February (of Shire reckoning) next year.
Gandalf knelt down, clasping his hand. "I believe you'll have the courage to survive, my dear Frodo."
The young hobbit closed in for a hug, which he returned in surprise. Before now, he had considered their relationship as amicable. Over the last year and a half, the young hobbit had grown on him. It was much like a young Baggin had decades ago.
He ended the hug, standing tall again. "I shall not be in danger, I'll assure you both of that. Goodbye, my friends."
Bilbo waved his hand, "Yes yes, now off with you. Go!"
"Goodbye Gandalf," Frodo said with a saddened look.
The old being began striding to his carriage and cargo, his resting steed awakening to his presence.
It is the day of the Ceremony.
The sun sat high above, raining light down upon Tristan Academy.
Louise found herself in one of Tristan Academy's five, large and lush courtyards, where the majority of her second-year peers gathered around.
The Academy is the symbol of Tristan's magical talent, the center of noble education, teaching generations to become leaders and paragons for the commoners to follow. The education is considered difficult, challenging even to experienced fourth-year students. Anyone who graduated would have a near-guaranteed career in any magical field, that is if one wasn't already promised to them.
Each year, there would be a series of tests that would gauge the abilities of each student, some ranging from easy to impossible. Today's ceremony fell under the former. Whatever familiar summoned would be a testament to their aligned element–those being Earth, Fire, Water, and Wind–, and represent their prowess in magic. The incantation involved is simple, so simple in fact that anyone not gifted in magical talent would fail it.
For the young Valliere, she still dreaded failure. The jeers from her fellow classmates hadn't helped in the slightest.
One student eyed her wearily. "No detention, especially after yesterday!?" She spoke to another.
Montmorency, a blond-haired girl, one of the other students in the pinkette's grade, added to the gossip, "she was excused. We kept warning Miss Chevreuse, but she wouldn't listen!"
"Not even a slap on the wrist!?" another asked.
A different one answered. "That's to be expected of a Duchess's daughter. She's even more privileged than the Queen herself."
The blond girl nodded, "Sad but true. It is so typical that the teachers would bail Zero from all except the worst of atrocities. She's the definition of a teacher's pet."
The pinkette decided to step away, moving to a different side of the field so that she wouldn't be burdened with their hideous comments.
Unfortunately, that put her in confrontation with a particular, tall red-head rival.
Kirche Augusta Frederica von Zerbst stood tall and proud next to her small, blue-haired friend, Tabitha. "The failure of Miss Chervreuse's class has come to bask in my glory!" the redhead boasted.
Louise pivoted around and started walking in the opposite direction. She had no patience for the Zerbst.
"Louise! Are you upset!?" she nearly shouted.
Ignore her, ignore her, ignore her, the pinkette repeated in her mind.
Mocking a parental voice, Kirche added, "Oh, don't tell me you're that overworked about yesterday? I'm sure Osmond will understand."
The young Valliere whirled around, stomping back to face the Zerbst. "What is that supposed to mean!?"
The red-head feigned ignorance. "Whatever do you mean? We both know the academy is forgiving of your failures. I can't imagine they would go against your mother's wishes. She must be really proud to go that far."
"Oh, and I'm certain your mother is proud to have raised a harlot." Louise and most of the academy were well aware of the redhead's relationships. They were so numerous that even Kirche tended to forget the number of partners she had (if one-day passions could be called such).
The Zerbst took the insult in stride. "My passion and beauty is unrivaled! Perhaps you should take my lead, maybe you'll find a beloved yourself."
Louise became red in the face. "No! Absolutely not! Why would I follow someone incapable of anything lasting a week!?"
"Louise, we both know that your lack of relationships are not by choice. Are you so incapable of finding someone with that endowment?" The redhead gestured to the pinkette's figure.
"I'm still growing, you filthy cow!"
Their bickering continued in a series of surface-level insults. Tabitha was hardly bothered by the performance as she stood aside, reading a nondescript book. It was rather typical for them to engross themselves in such a fight, and it became so common that it was routine. Should push come to shove, the bluette felt confident that she could invoke peace.
It wasn't on their own that stopped the arguing.
Professor Colbert, with a loud and commanding voice, grabbed the attention of all the students. "Gather to me! Form a circle, and we shall begin the ceremony!"
Kirche was the first to stop. "Well, my little Louise, we have a summoning to do. You're welcome to join us. Come Tabitha!"
"As if!" the young Valliere snipped back.
At that, the redhead and blue-head prodigies wandered off, secluding themselves not too far from the pinkette.
When the students were finally corralled into a circle, the professor called out again. "Will Thyra de la Helena please step forth!?"
The grey wizard found himself resting beneath a tree on top of a hill, basking in its shade, under a late-morning sun. From his vantage point, fields of green grass, wide forests, and small hobbit dwellings lay in his view.
He had made a considerable distance from the Shire. The hours of last night and the morning took a toll on him, and rest was what he and his steed needed. They had been here for the last hour.
His right palm found the pommel of Glamdring, the sword which he reclaimed from cave trolls during that adventure. It hung lazily to his belt, its white and gold colors shining from polish, the ivory scabbard glittered with specs of dirt and jewels. The blade is as timeless as any elven-made weapon, a one-of-a-kind with its history.
Radagast's gifted staff laid against a tree behind him. The thing's twisted roots and aging wood stood well against time, though its top had worn away due in part by use as a blunt instrument. It was meant to be a temporary replacement for the one he lost in that same adventure. Over time, he found it to be reliable as his old one, and saw little reason to replace it.
Gandalf bit into an apple, one of many which had been traded for back at the Shire. Letting the juices fill his taste, he surveyed the fields from the hill which he stood on.
He didn't anticipate fending off enemies, but one couldn't be too careful. The wizard could recall an instance where he had been chased by a group of bandit hobbits (that with the help of the Shirriffs their holding had been routed), and a rogue ranger deep in The Old Forest. Besides those, he hardly had reason to fear danger.
Except now…
Hairs on the back of his neck stood tall as his sixth sense started alarming him to… something.
"Odd…"
His eyes narrowed as took another look.
Louise was growing considerably nervous.
"Very good Miss Tabitha! That is a wonderful dragon!"
Most of the students had only summoned common animals as familiars: dogs, cats, reptiles, rodents and amphibians, all of different colors, scales, and furs. Her confidence wavered when Kirche summoned a fire salamander, which the 'Cow' had named 'Flame.' The summoning of a bug bear had also further humbled her… though not as much as Tabitha's Juvenile Wind Dragon.
The small girl bowed. "Thank you," she quietly said to Jean Colbert. If she were excited at having summoned the beast, she didn't show it. Her blank, downcast look was all she managed.
Tabith walked out of the circle, the dragon hobbling along like an excited puppy.
"Let's see…" The professor looked down at a notepad, marking off the second-to-last name on a parchment. "That leaves us with… Louise de la Vallière!"
The young noble found herself involuntarily stepping back. She had meant to go much earlier, so sure that the incantation she produced would yield the best result.
"Louise, step forth," Jean ordered.
Hesitantly, the pinkette moved to the center. That was when her peers started whispering again:
"Oh no…"
"Are we allowed to step back?"
"Here goes Zero again."
"What would she even summon?"
"Probably a cloud of smoke."
She paid them no mind.
When she made her last step, the professor spoke, "Begin when you are ready."
Louise took a deep breath, shutting her eyes as she recited a carefully crafted incantation.
An immaterial object that caused Gandalf's concern hovered no more than a foot above ground.
The floating ovaloid of solid lime green had appeared before him, simply coming to existence without the will of some other being, or at least one he couldn't see. It is a bizarre conjuration, nothing that nature could produce on its own for the light of the sun did not create shade from it. More strange, the light it produced did not reflect off the grass. The thing behaved as though it didn't exist.
Even his horse didn't take notice.
"What sorcery…"
He stepped back, managing to grab his staff, still eyeing the strange thing.
In areas of the supernatural, the wizard knew to keep cautious. It was difficult to know if this was the work of some other wizard (either of or not part of The Order of Wizards) or of an Aniu. He highly doubted Ilúvatar would be so direct with his influence, even in a strange way. He knew not if some sort of spirit or elf was involved, and he knew of few of the latter that could be capable of such sorcery.
If this is the work of the enemy, then there is room for greater worry, or so he imagined.
He began a chant. "I am the wielder of the Secret Fire. I banish this anomaly before me."
His staff produced an intense light, and the ovaloid rippled to his influence.
All of the sudden, like the force of a troll's fist, he was hurled forth.
"Ooofff!"
The wizard fell harshly to the ground, his grip on the staff remaining firm. He attempted to resist the pull which dragged him closer to the sphere, grabbing to the ground with both the staff and free hand.
He willed what power of Airefëa he had against the green shape, trying several spells which all had the same effect. With the wind knocked out of him, Gandalf could hardly utter a word, only managing to groan and, thus, had to rely on silent casting.
Closer and closer he was dragged, clumps of dirt, grass, and stone moving with his hand
"Augh!"
When his foot touched the surface of the ovaloid, his vision went white, and the world warped around him.
At the final word of Louise's incantation, her wand ignited.
*Booom!*
Soot and smoke enveloped her and much of her classmates. She could only hear her own coughing and those of her fellows.
It didn't take long for the jeering to start, loud obnoxious groans and shrewd comments coming to her ears.
"By the Founder, why did you let her summon a cough?"
"Auuuugh, not again!"
"Zero summoned more smoke!"
The smoke managed to bring tears to the pinkette's eyes. Closing them, she started waving a hand, backpedaling as she did so. The young noble bumped into several students who quickly moved away.
A hand clasped her shoulder, stopping her in place.
Jean Colbert spoke an incantation, raising his staff as a sudden gust of wind came over the whole group. He managed to hold the young Valliere in place.
Ever so slowly, the smoke began to dissipate.
Her peers began noticing a figure at the center of the circle, shrouded.
"Is that a person!?" one student shouted loudly.
"I think it is!"
Rubbing her fists into her eyes, she managed to clear away some of the sting.
More nobles spoke aloud.
"A Noble!?"
"He doesn't look like one."
"It… looks like… Osmond."
"She summoned Osmond!?"
"A mage!? She summoned a mage!?"
"It must be some trick!"
A man–it had to be one, she thought–of typical height met her gaze. Most of his detail was kept obscure in the still-thick soot that hung to the air. He appeared to wear greyish-stained, rugged robes of lenin, on his head a hat tall and pointed with a wide brim. He held a wooden staff, the top curled tightly. True to their comparison to the headmaster, the elderly figure had long hair from his head and beard–the latter covering his mouth. That was all she–and everyone else–could make of him.
"A… mage?" Louise murmured in deep dread. While he dressed nothing like a noble, the staff hinted at him being a mage. If that were the case, the young noble could find herself in deep trouble, the kind involving lawful retribution. She may have done the equivalent of kidnapping a lord.
Colbert eyed the summoned mage in growing alarm. His thoughts were similar to Louise's and of several students: What has she done!?
The grey mage(?) drew an unseen sword, his staff raised.
Gandalf landed hard against grass and dirt.
Nothing was immediately apparent as pain clouded his senses. Air had again been pulled from him, his gasps sucking in soot that made him cough. Bleary vision showed that he was shrouded in smoke, affording him little detail.
He thought he could hear strange noises through the ringing of his ears:
"[By the Founder, why did you let her summon a cough?]"
"[Auuuugh, not again!]"
"[Zero summoned more smoke!]"
With great will the wizard stood. It took him a moment to find and retrieve his staff, the thing having been forced from his grip on landing. Reaching for the hilt of Glamdring, he pulled the blade slightly out of its sheath, observing for a sign of bluish light.
… No orcs. The blade's enchantment would have hinted at such creatures in his vicinity.
He felt a strong breeze penetrate the noxious fog, just before he could banish it himself.
Gradually, figures started to appear. They encircled the grey wizard, clearly observing. Frantically twisting about, he managed to account for roughly sixty-one murmuring individuals and an equal number of creatures. The most apparent figure held a large staff… raised high in display.
Their voices grew more excited. It became clear they spoke a tongue that he could not understand:
"[A Noble!?]"
"[He doesn't look like one.]"
"[It… looks like… Osmond.]"
"[She summoned Osmond!?]"
"[A mage!? She summoned a mage!?]"
"[It must be some trick!]"
Gandalf began a silent incantation, steeling himself for a possible fight. The manner in which he had been forced from comfort to a sudden confrontation did little to convince him otherwise. To him, everything screamed that this was a trap.
The fog cleared, revealing the figure to be a man with a balding head of hair in blue robes, wearing a pair of lenses resting upon his ears and nose. Beside him was a girl of… pink hair, dressed in white and black.
Glamdring was withdrawn, the sound of sharp metal ringing loudly for all to hear. He held the sword level, sweeping it to force distance should they close in on him.
Silence came to his ears, their chatter dying.
The bald man moved. With a wrong, hasty shift of his staff, the grey wizard released his spells.
*BOOOM!* *CRACK!*
His staff was violently removed, flying wildly at a flash of light from Gandalf's own.
It was the girl beside him that screamed, as did others.
With words of command, Gandalf bellowed, "YIELD, I SAY! YIELD!" The words boomed around him, causing a large number in his audience to shrink back in fright.
He twisted around, silently incanting another spell, watching for retaliation. Several among the youthful crowd withdrew small sticks, particularly a girl of brown and red hair. She bore the look of unease and resolution.
He only caught a glimpse of another beside her who brought her staff in front of her. The bluette raised her other hand as a sign of surrender. She too expressed anxiety. "[Stop! Please!]" the small girl spoke to him.
In the same language, a man's voice boomed out. "[LOWER YOUR WANDS, DO NOT BRING HARM! DO NOT CAST SPELLS!]"
Gandalf brought his gaze to the source of the call, finding that it was the bald man. His hands were raised as well.
"Surrender! We surrender!" The blue-robed man said in words he could understand.
"Surrender!?" the grey wizard parroted. He pointed his sword to the bald man.
"Yes, surrender!" He again said.
Rage still took the wizard. He at least had the decency to hold himself. "Explain yourself!"
The blue-robed mage paused, struggling to recall certain words. "We take you… We… summon–"
Shakily, the girl with pink hair stepped forward, hands up similar to everyone else. She spoke with a similar, heavy accent "I summoned you."
"Summon me!? You!?" he asked.
She jumped back slightly, shaking more profusely with terrible guilt. "Y-yes."
"Why!?"
The young girl struggled to answer, her mouth opening and closing.
"Answer me!" he commanded, his voice again booming to the crowd's unease.
The blue-robed man stepped forth, bringing the child behind him. "Wait!" he shouted.
Jean turned to his charge. "Louise, give me your wand," he asked the young Valliere.
Wordlessly, she passed the focus to the professor. All the young noble wanted was for this nightmare to end.
Slowly the professor held the wand high. In rustic Angliss, he spoke. "[Translate! Need to… cast translation spell! Is this fine?]"
It had been years since he had to use the language. Albion delegates and visitors were seldom to visit Tristian these years, let alone at the academy. The grey stranger's accent was unlike what anyone spoke on the floating island. It is so strange that Jean thought he would not understand him.
The mysterious mage held his posture, providing a look of confusion under a (justified) temper. He made no sign of protest.
Jean Colbert began the incantation, still holding both his right hand and the focus high so that the stranger could see what he was doing.
Thankfully, none of the students decided to play hero as the professor had his attention, most being too afraid of the consequences of such an act. More remarkable was that all of the familiars present held themselves, as though charmed to terror. At least several of them should have made some noise, let alone attack in defense of their (new) masters.
At the final word, he casted the spell. A thin, nearly invisible blanket of air shimmered over the grey-cloaked man, the process finishing in seconds.
"Can you understand me?" Jean asked.
It took the stranger a moment to answer, clearly taken aback by the spell's effect. "As well as it should seem," he finally answered, his voice tinged with hostility.
"You're angry," the professor began, his experience from the Queen's court coming forth. "We took you from somewhere we shouldn't have."
"Among other things," the grey mage tersely responded. "Your charge claims to have kidnapped me."
Louise shrunk back. Of all the times she needed to be regal and disciplined, she behaved cowardly (in her eyes).
Most of the students seemed to have calmed themselves, none still daring to speak out.
"Why was I 'summoned'?" he asked.
Jean started to answer, "It was by the ceremony, a familiar summoning ritual."
"That does not answer my question. Why was I brought here!?"
The professor gawked, trying to come to a reasonable answer. For a mage to be summoned as familiar is highly unusual. What was the professor to say?
He began, "It was–"
"I want the girl to answer, not you," he cut him off.
Jean turned to Louise, giving her a look that said "you don't have to." Both of them knew, under noble conduct, that to not answer a (supposed) lord was unacceptable.
She straightened herself, taking tentative steps. For the life of her, she still couldn't banish that shake, her fight-or-flight instinct running on overdrive.
Louise answered, "I… I don't… I don't have an answer."
That didn't leave the mage satisfied. "Explain."
She took another tentative moment to compose herself, audibly swallowing. "The ritual was only meant to summon a beast. I… don't know why it brought you… before me."
The tension he bore softened as the mage took a confused look. "And what is this… 'beast' to the summoner?"
Both the pinkette and professor shared confusion. To them, all mages were aware of the summoning ritual and the concept of familiars. She answered unsure, "... a s-servant?"
He frowned, still perplexed.
Louise took this as him being offended. She quickly added, "We would never, never bound you in such a state, not to a lord such as yourself!" It was, perhaps, an incorrect title, though she would not dare risk referring to him as only a simple mage. Afterall, all mages were deemed to have some noble heritage, if not a title.
For a brief moment he stood quiet, contemplating her response. "I see…"
The grey mage changed his stance, letting himself stand straight. The sword in his right went back into its scabbard, slow and deliberate. He then took a greater account of his surroundings, eyeing all of the other students (most bowing their heads in deference) and familiars, then the walls and towers beyond like a stranger in a strange land.
They all stood awkwardly, uncertain of how to respond or proceed.
The silence was broken. "I must ask that I have an audience with the lord of these grounds," the mage requested.
Author's Note: Be sure to check out RainEStar3's "Louise Summon's Series" on SpaceBattles. It's where you'll find my stories. I'd recommend also checking out RainEStar3's FoZ snippets as well.