Louise Summons a Grey Wizard
Chapter 2: A Short Meeting
In Tristan Academy's main tower, a small gathering took place in the headmaster's office, a room that sat at its very top.
The grey mage had requested an audience with the "lord of these grounds." Due to the "lord" being the Tristain royal family, it was beyond the headmaster's ability to arrange. They simply had to make due with the next best representative: Osmond, the headmaster himself.
Within the place, Louise and Professor Colbert stood on either side of the main entrance, the former with her head bowed while the latter stood rigid and at attention. Off to the side the green-haired secretary, Longueville, was also present.
At its main desk, the grey mage/lord(?)–his hat, staff, and sword resting on some shelving off to his right–and the Headmaster sat on either side. Had the latter been given more time, his books and papers would not have been so disorganized. Opulent furniture and construction surrounded them, the very seating made from a combination of dyed silk and linen, and the curtains deep red and trimmed to gold. These sort of meetings were why such things were needed: it served as both a way to impress visitors and to discipline detained troublemakers. For whatever reason, it did not have any (noticeable) effect on the visitor.
The door behind them unlatched, with two maids bringing a tray of sweet, exotic tea, and pastries. "We apologize for the wait. The chef expresses that he was given short notice," Siesta, the black-haired maid, responded.
Osmond, a man who looked somewhat like the grey mage (the only real comparison being the length of hair), addressed them, "That is quite alright! We were just getting started."
They had, so far, only exchanged short pleasantries (if they could even be called that). The grey mage was still noticeably terse.
Siesta gently placed utensils and cups before the seated guest and Headmaster. The other maid of (flaxen-)brown hair, Mary, brought forth a pitcher of tea and poured the contents into each delicate ceramic as the black-haired girl went and retrieved the pastries.
"Thank you, dears," the grey mage said with sincerity, just as the food was placed down.
Both Mary and Siesta beamed. It wasn't often nobility gave them praise for simple work.
"Would you like us to set the drinks and pastries here?" Mary asked Osmond, gesturing to a nearby table.
"Yes, that is fine. Now please, leave us," the headmaster responded.
Both bowed their heads, leaving the trays and their contents behind. Longueville followed close behind, making certain that the door was shut to outside eyes and ears.
As soon as it was closed, the headmaster began, "My good sir–" He caught himself, remembering his manners, "Pardon me, I don't believe we've yet to introduce ourselves." He clapped his hands. "You have no doubt already… hrm… met Professor Jean Colbert–" Osmond gestured to him, "–and Louise de la Valliere," then to the young noble. "I am Headmaster Osmond, and you have, no doubt, been introduced to Miss Longueville," he ended, gesturing to the secretary.
"The pleasure is mine," she added.
"I… don't believe we've been acquainted with you, sir…?" he trailed.
The grey wizard didn't immediately respond. "It is Gandalf," he answered after several, excruciating seconds.
Beyond their notice, Jean's expression changed subtly. He thought he recognized that name.
Osmond continued, "Sir Gandalf, I understand, by Professor Colbert's account, that you've been… summoned by accident." He said, taking a sip of his tea.
The grey mage mimicked the motion, picking up his cup. Upon its contents reaching his lips, he reflexed, clearly surprised by the taste. "Yes… that is accurate."
Nodding, the headmaster continued, "On behalf of the academy, and of Tristain royalty–the Princess and ruling Queen–and the state, we profusely apologize for the inconvenience this must be causing you. A noble of your stature should not have been subjected to the preceding ceremony as you have."
Gandalf took another sip of the tea, again savoring the liquid. "Yet I have been," he stated.
Louise flinched, unbeknownst to all in the room.
"Yet you have been," Osmond agreed.
The grey mage sat his tea cup down, simply staring at the headmaster for nearly a minute. Most of the room began to grow anxious, but no more so than the other, old mage. "... Apology accepted."
All took a collective sigh of relief. It would have been expected that he'd demand some sort of compensation, worse if he demanded blood (as would have been his right, though whether he'd receive it would depend on the severity of the pain which his abduction had inflicted).
"Now, if you could send me back," Gandalf said.
Osmond did not hesitate in his response. "And we would be more than happy to!"
Louise answered from the background, feeling the need to involve herself, "You have my word as a Vallière that we will return you to your home country."
Colbert's hand found her shoulder. The young noble's eyes met a polite gaze which told her to "shut up." The last thing the man wanted was for her to bury herself deeper into unforeseen trouble.
Gandalf gave the headmaster an odd look. "I suspect there would be… complications reversing the spell?"
Osmond nodded, bearing a downcast look. "Unfortunately… erm… yes. It is unheard of that a noble is summoned, and we've never had to… undo such sorcery."
"I see," the grey mage said
"However, it would not be beyond our powers to give adequate transport. That I may send a petition to the crown on your behalf…" The headmaster paused, looking away in contemplation. "For that… we need to know where it is you hail from." He suspected Albion, given what Colbert briefly shared, in which case it would be a fairly simple trip… that is if the floating island wasn't embroiled in civil war.
Gandalf took a considerable moment of silence, keeping his gaze on Osmond with a hint of displeasure at his proposal (much to his and to most others' discomfort). After another moment of severe silence, he answered, "To be… blunt with you, I haven't the faintest idea of where I am. You and your esteemed colleague mentioned 'Tristain Academy,' the crown of Tristain and the state. None of these names have any meaning to me, and I suspect that my homeland will have little if any relevance to you as well." Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he grabbed the tea, then continued. "So you must understand that I highly prefer that we reverse the summoning, if at all possible."
The headmaster, and some of those present, bore looks of bafflement. "I… don't believe I understand."
"Neither do I," the grey mage added, taking another sip of Gallia Vanilla.
Osmond shook his head. "You say that Tristain is unfamiliar to you, yet we've heard you speak Angliss. The only known country of the language would be Albion… and perhaps some of the state's colonies on the mainland." It was unheard of that the flying island's influence had spread beyond its own lands, past those of the elves and beyond. The headmaster internally reasoned: If the man wasn't from there, where else could he hail from?
After taking another sip of tea, he answered the implied question with his own, "Do you know of Middle Earth? Perhaps 'Endor' or 'Middangeard'?"
The room's confusion grew considerably. "No, I'm afraid not," the other elderly mage answered for all of them. To them, 'Middle Earth' could encompass many different territories, being a simple self-explanatory name. 'Endor' and 'Middangeard' sounded even stranger to their ears, no one having the faintest clue where those were.
Gandalf nodded, mostly to himself. "Then it is as I suspected."
"You must understand that if we could unsummon you, then we wouldn't be having this… erm… meeting," Osmond reasoned. To them, even if it were possible, the amount of research needed would take years, and the ability to do so went beyond what most (if not all) nobles are capable of… beside their Founder, Brimir (if he were still alive). "The best we can do is offer simple transport, and in the meantime lodging."
The grey mage's look now bore greater frustration. "I find it quite distasteful that you have taken me against my will. How you have… allowed this to happen is beyond me, since you all appear to be mages of high standing."
Louise again flinched, her guilt increasing two-fold
Osmond bowed his head. "That… you are correct. It is a massive oversight on our end."
Gandalf took a moment, taking a deep breath, then sipping on the tea to its last drop. Setting the cup down, he conceded, "Very well, bring your maps."
The headmaster lifted his head, turning to address his secretary. "Longueville, would you fetch the Compendium of Worldly Maps, as well the larger charts?"
She bowed her head. "Yes headmaster."
Gandalf, the headmaster, and Professor Colbert had poured over map after map of continents, landmasses, coastlines, and obscure sketches of places called Rub' al Khali' and 'The Holy Land' for the last 4 hours.
The first hour had been entirely dedicated to educating him in the geography of this strange land.
"This is… 'Tristania'?" the wizard parroted.
The headmaster nodded, "Yes… that would be our capital," he glided his hand across the page, landing on a representation of a smaller fort. "This would be the Academy, where we are."
A rudimentary understanding of their writing had also been taught to him. Getting the very basics proved difficult.
"That translates to 'Grasslands.'"
"I understand that!" Gandalf snipped.
The second hour was on their unique cartography, and their units of measurement. That had also proven strenuous.
"No no, that would be the northern border of Gallia to Germania," Jean Colbert corrected, "45… units to be exact."
"Yes… I see," the wizard absently agreed, drifting his finger along a border line. "Romalia?" he guessed at the (still unrecognizable) writing.
"... Yeees," the headmaster answered.
The last two hours were spent meticulously examining each map.
Had the grey wizard not known any better and not had keen eyesight, he would have thought the drawings of 'Halkeginia' were inverted representations of The Great Lands. Mountain ranges, coastlines, rivers, and lakes did not match those from memory. The mere existence of their five kingdoms–their borders, cities, villages, and hamlets–further compounded the fact that he couldn't be in Middle Earth. Mentions of Lindon, Eriador, Gondor, Rohan, Rhovanion, and even Mordor had eluded his examinings.
"What is 'Anor'?" Osmond asked.
"Not… here…" Gandalf answered in annoyance, the entirety of 'Halkeginia' before him.
Jean looked up, weariness coating his voice, "Then where?"
It appeared strange to him that they had very limited drawings on lands beyond theirs, that of greater Arda. He noticed that most tended to end no more than 20 kilometers beyond the borders of 'The Holy Lands,' a wasteland of desert which he could compare to Lithlad, or those south of Mordor.
Eventually, the sun settled to a starlit sky, and it had been decided that they would retire for the night.
The headmaster began stifling a yawn, his head still hunched over a desk scattered with paperwork. "Sir Gandalf… I believe this will have to continue… some other time." He need not mention the mountains of paperwork and correspondence needing his attention.
The wizard tore his attention away from semi-chaotic written notes (those used to help him translate the writings and measurements into Common Speech). He examined the other occupants, seeing Jean Colbert, Longueville, and the headmaster with tired looks. On a couch, the young pink-haired girl found herself lying in a fetal position, clearly sleeping (the poor thing). Off to the side, another tray of dirtied plates and cups had been stacked–a result of dinner being served an hour prior–, awaiting for collection by the serving staff.
"Yes… yes I believe we've gone on long enough," he conceded, slamming his gifted journal close with a thud.
They had parted not long after, but not before the headmaster arranged for one of the servants to guide him to his temporary stay (and not before he could retrieve his belongings). He had been given a leather bag to hold his new journal and writing utensils, the thing hanging loosely from his right shoulder, bouncing gently against his right side.
The whole affair left the wizard more confused about his circumstance. Not once had he (nor the other wizards, he suspected) heard of Tristan, Albion, Gallia, Romalia, Rub' al Khali nor the Holy Lands. Halkeginia seemed like some wondrous, distant cousin of Middle Earth that had never existed. Even the idea of a whole academy dedicated to the arts of magic struck him as fantastical, even as he was left ignorant of how Tristain (and other kingdoms) based its society on the paranormal. What had started his bewilderment might have been the exotic animals–he had never seen a diminutive blue dragon nor a floating eye before–or the casual display of magic. All seemed highly amiss.
Stranger in a strange land indeed, Gandalf thought.
It was one of the many torch-lit halls in which the wizard followed his guide–a young male of similar height. They had been walking past aged pillars and arched windows for the last five minutes, toward one of the five towers he observed much earlier in the day. Just outside he could see the night sky.
Marvin (the guide), and most others the wizard observed, wore the most peculiar wardrobes. His clothes were unlike what the race of men would wear in similar stations (nor dwarves, hobbits, or elves, he later decided.) He thought the qualities comparable to wealthy hobbit clothes, though nowhere near the hallmarks of elven fabrics, and he doubted that no one would ever attain the skill needed to make such mystical wares.
5 paces behind, the girl with pink hair followed, her posture showing exhaustion encroaching on her. She had been with him since departing the headmaster's office, and she hadn't spoken a word.
"Your surname is Vallière, is it not?" he suddenly asked. The wizard had recalled her mentioning that name.
She looked up, casting a glance at his back. "It's Louise Françoise le Blanc de la Vallière."
Adolescents of similar colored garments rushed past them, giving the wizard a respectable distance, casting a curious glance at the young mage and paying no mind to the servant-guide. Behind them several animals strode, a dog of brown and a snake with scales colored purple, variants of an exotic kind.
"Must you be off to rest by now, Miss Vallière?" he asked. Gandalf hadn't expected the girl to remain awake and intent on following him. He found it queer.
"I would at least see that you are well taken care of," she countered. "By my family's name, it is my duty."
He internally sighed, recognizing all too well her mentality. It was a kind born from a child taught under strict rules and ideals to a harsh degree. "Do you truely not know why I was brought here?" Whether he received an answer or not mattered not at this point. If the girl insisted on following him they may as well make something of it.
"No, I don't," she reaffirmed.
"I suspect, by now, that you know I am not accustomed to your culture, nor its practices."
"No, if you say so," she agreed.
"Whether I say so or not it is self evident. Have you not been paying attention before?" Gandalf chided.
Louise winced. "I have."
The wizard paused, thinking of his next question. "What of the familiars? What do they represent?"
It was her turn to think of an answer. "They reflect their master's ability with magic. Some say that the more exotic the more powerful a mage is."
"To what extent?"
"It's elemental… A dog might represent one's affinity to ground magic, while an eagle one's practice with air. Willpower might be a factor, though…" The girl hesitated to finish.
"I suspect my kidnapping throws that into question," he finished for her.
She again winced. "Yes…"
They walked for a silent moment before Louise asked her question. "Are you a… wind mage?"
The wizard didn't immediately answer. This was his first time hearing of the designation. "No, I am not."
"What about fire?"
He was beginning to see a pattern. "I have… alignments with fire and light, though I am not restricted to them."
"Light?" Louise trailed.
He reaffirmed, "Yes, light." With a harmless display, the top of his staff glowed. A near-blinding light emitted, one that casted shadows no darker than the torches they passed.
Marvin took a look behind him to witness the display, his eyes widening in wonder. "Fantastic," he hushed to himself.
"H-how… what sort of spell was that?" Louise's mind whirled. Any sensible mage that needed light would only need to cast a dot-level spell, that of a flame from their wand or by igniting a candle. Such light would emit a warm yellow glow and some smoke, neither of which she saw.
"It is light," he answered. "It is the essence of fire and stars, craved by all that lives."
"No… Was… was that a triangle class spell?" She tried reasoning.
"'Triangle class?'" He nearly laughed, as though one could classify Illuvatar's gift.
"A line spell?" she again guessed.
"Did I not just say that I'm not accustomed to your culture?" the wizard chided lightly.
Louise paused, shaking her head of chaotic thought. She desperately wanted to make sense of his powers, but the being hadn't given her much to work with.
For a moment, neither of them spoke as they continued down the hall. Soon Louise came to another question, "From what… royal line are you from?" Based on their discussion over the prior four hours, she would have thought of a distant family of the Tudor line, a very distant family given his talk of a place called 'Middle Earth.' Six thousand years of history have not been kind to some bloodlines of the Founder, and it wouldn't surprise her if one had sought refuge in the unknown world.
Gandalf paused, as did the guide and Louise. For a second she thought to have offended the mage. "I… have no family to speak of." Since arriving in Middle Earth, no one (outside of the Order of Wizards and the White Council) would have thought to accuse the wandering stranger that he was of higher blood… perhaps except for the elves (for some suspected something, even Glorfindel). He had done well to keep the guise of a wise, traveling wizard, and that was all the most astute could (and should) make of him.
The young noble bowed her head. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to offend." While it wasn't the answer she had been looking for, it still told her a great deal, suggesting that he is the last of his line, or that he had been estranged
He shook his head. "You haven't. It is a… curious question." The wizard started to walk again, prompting them to do so.
She dared ask, "How so?"
"You could say I have only known one father."
That told her even more. Does he mean the Founder? she thought. It wasn't unheard of for certain nobles to revere Brimir to a fanatical degree, though his tone didn't betray such a belief. He could be simply referring to a long lost parent. "Are there, other, mage families where you're from?"
"... I wouldn't say so. Outside of our order, it is rare to come across another potent with the paranormal."
"Um… do you mean magic?" Louise asked, suspecting that it was an error of the translation spell.
Gandalf's words became slow and deliberate. "Yes... It is rare for one to wield… 'magic' as I have seen your people do so. In a long, distant past… those that could wield it had done so for benevolence or for great ill. It is for that reason why there are so few."
The pinkette nodded in some understanding. "Who leads the commoners?"
"'Commoners?'" he echoed.
She elaborated, again thinking it was a mistranslation, "the masses, those without magic, the typical man or woman?"
Unbeknownst to her, Gandalf bore an incredulous look. It took him a second to answer, "There are kings and kingdoms… those without… magic. Whether or not their rulers should have it is a discussion for another time."
Louise again nodded. His homeland was beginning to sound more like that of Germania and their barbaric ways. The fact that other, non-magical kingdoms exist outside of the known world gave the girl concern.
Eventually they came to another corridor, one located on the second floor of a tower. Along one wall were several doors, and at its end a staircase and window to the outside.
Within the hall was a boy and girl of blond and brown hair, wearing the academy's uniform but with black and brown capes (respectively). The former held a peculiar rose and the latter a bottle of a strong-scented perfume, so strong that the wizard had smelt it several paces back in the adjoining hall.
Both the youths had been hushing. When they took notice of the group, silence fell upon them. They averted their gaze.
The pinkette narrowed her eyes at Guiche, the blond noble. Of course the playboy would be fraternizing with a first year of all things, no less behind Montmorency's back, she thought (not that she had sympathy for her peer). Louise would have given some strong words were she not amongst important company. It was a strain to hold her tongue.
Gandalf held no such thoughts. "If you two are done charming each other, I'd suggest finding the nearest room," he said impatiently.
Guiche Chevalier de Gramont quickly turned to the wizard, eyes in shock, then quickly averted as his face grew profusely red. He had been present when Louise had… summoned the mage and had no illusions of Gandalf's power, having seen him disarm their professor. By all accounts, the boy also thought of the wizard as a lord, and he would not dare challenge him. "Yes, sir," he muttered.
The brown-haired girl, Katie de la Lotta, also took on several shades of red at the wizard's implication. She had rumors of a summoned 'Grey Mage,' and it didn't take much to put two and two together. The first-year bowed her head, staying silent.
The blond boy managed to grab Katie's attention. Out of reasonable earshot, Guiche hushed, "Let's meet tomorrow night. Save your dish for then." He retrieved the perfume from her hands.
Katie whispered, "where?"
He thought for a moment. "By the stairwell, second floor of the Earth Tower, where the moons rise to meet the west-most window," the boy said, bringing a hand to brush her cheek.
"Alright," she breathed, almost leaning her head into the caress.
Both hastily parted, Katie walking past the wizard and his entourage–giving a hasty "please excuse me" as she did so–while Guiche took the staircase, traveling down and to his quarters.
Marvin proceeded forward, heading toward a door at the farthest end of the hall.
"I take it that this is my room?" Gandalf asked the young man.
Opening the door, the servant nodded. "The room is for guests of the highest honor, second to the royal family."
Casually, the wizard paced himself to the entrance, taking in the wide room.
Inside, candles had been lit, bathing the lodging in a warm glow. It hosted furnishings made of the finest woods, some of them golden-trimmed and coated to give a dark shine. Those of note included a large wardrobe, a king-sized bed with some of Tristain's softest pillows and sheets, one dining-sized table with four chairs, large shelves with a variety of books (of a writing he barely comprehends), and a desk with various tools and glassware. What happened to be an adjoining washroom also sat at the far end, the door slightly open to reveal a tub of casted bronze. The whole display spoke of opulence, and it made him uncomfortable.
"That I see," he said with as much grace as he could muster.
Marvin and Louise sensed his discomfort. "Is it not to your liking, sir?" the servant asked.
He almost thought of lying but found he couldn't. "It is… far more than I am accustomed to, but it will do for now."
Stepping past the threshold, he placed his staff in a holder of sorts, resting his hat and bag on the table. It took him a good minute to unlatch Glamdring, gently settling the historical piece beside his belongings.
"I shall let the headmaster know. We shall find you more suitable accommodations."
"There is no rush," Gandalf added.
The servant added, "Inside the wardrobe you will also find robes and clothes of various sizes. If you wish, we can have the academy's tailor custom fit several to your liking."
The decadence was becoming too much for him. "I don't believe that will be necessary," the wizard said as he strode to the far end of the room, standing beside the desk and before a tall window, with curtains of white and red drawn back to a now-moonlit sky.
"Shall I fetch for any beverage or food at this time?"
Something beyond the glass panes took the wizard's attention. Absent-mindedly Gandalf said, "Neither that… thank you." He turned back to Marvin with a warm smile. "You are released from service. I suspect that you will have a long day by tomorrow."
The servant bowed. "That is for certain, Sir Gandalf." Marvin turned to Louise who also happened to be standing at the threshold, also bowing to her. "Miss Valliere," he said before departing.
At that, it was only the young noble who stood awkwardly, shuffling her feet in place even as Gandalf returned to the window.
Sensing that the girl was still there, he again turned around, arching a brow at her.
They kept exchanging odd glances until the wizard spoke, "You are dismissed as well, young Valliere."
It took her another moment before she could say something. "Are you certain?"
He almost failed to stifle a sigh. "If Marvin has done all he can at this hour, I assure you that you have as well."
Louise kept her stare for several seconds before bowing. "I shall see you tomorrow."
She closed and latched the door, her footsteps signaling her retreat.
Gandalf resumed his gaze beyond the window, his eyes fixed upon the most foreign sight, that of two full moons.
"Where have I gone?" he asked in fright, hoping Eru Ilúvatar or any Ainur would answer him.