Аннотация: A trip to the First Wizard. A conversation with Irving and Duncan.
Chapter 2.2 A conversation with a senior wizard.
The student, by the way, is clueless - the flame of a campfire lit right on the floor (would kill!) twitches in different directions, clearly not obeying the young magician's wishes too much. The teacher gives him a suggestion, I involuntarily listen - what if it comes in handy? The magician talks about controlling emotions, the student seems to be listening, but when he hears mention of possible burns due to loss of control, he immediately gets scared, of course. The flame swells in a column and flies in all directions, igniting the unlucky burdock, but immediately goes out, obeying a slight movement of the teacher's hand. It's funny, but the fire didn't touch the books, although I definitely saw that the flame reached the shelves. Apparently, they are protected by powerful sorcery.
The scene is suggestive. What if I'm no better? It was in the Shadows that I was the hero, the head with the hole, because I thought I was just sleeping. And here... We need to choose a suitable place and check it out. Urgently.
I'm moving on. The library is also much bigger than I remember from the game. Nevertheless, there are quite a lot of people (and elves, yes) here. Most of them are students. Someone is sitting at small tables, studying literature, someone is walking along the shelves, apparently choosing books.
There are separate groups led by older magicians, who push local common magical truths to newcomers. That's when I appreciated the elven hearing-it was wonderful to hear. So, this is not a magician, it's like a priestess. He teaches very small boys and girls to be smart. Like, "magic should serve a man, not a man of magic," "blood magic is evil," and stuff like that. Oh, and here's another practical lesson. The magician threw various spells at the student, and the student hid from them with a bluish glowing sphere. With each hit, he staggered, and waves spread across the sphere from the place where the attack landed. Hey, I know what that is. It is a "Magic Shield" that allows you to defend against hostile spells. And interestingly, I know this not only from my memories of the game. It feels like I've used it before.
It only now dawned on me that the language spoken by everyone around me is not Russian. And it's not English, although it's somewhat similar. However, I understand him... I'm not trying to do this consciously yet. When you try to listen and translate, understanding immediately disappears. It turns out that I got the knowledge of the translation... The elf I've become? But trying to remember something from his past didn't do anything. I remember my own without any problems, his is muffled, like in a tank.
"Don't just stand there!" someone barks in my ear, and I flinch. No, we definitely need to find a more public place and sort this out as quickly as possible. I'm going to sleep the hell off.
I walk through the archway to the center of the tower. Hmm... Did I think I was in the library? I was very wrong. This is really a library. It's a circular room, about two hundred meters in diameter, as far as I can understand - the walls are almost invisible because of the bookshelves standing in concentric circles. In some places between them there are candelabra with burning candles, however, they are obviously of little use. Where the main lighting comes from is unclear, because there are practically no shadows. From above, all this is crowned by a domed ceiling. How this hulk manages to hold its weight and not collapse is a mystery, because the columns here are exclusively decorative. By the way, there are much fewer people than in the previous room.
Okay, I'll have time to have some more fun. Opposite the archway from which I emerged, there was a wide stone staircase that broke through the circles of shelves. I'm supposed to go there.
Climbing first along the stone staircase, then along the same wide spiral staircase and again along the stone stairs led me to another round hall. There were no books here, but a good part of it was fenced off by stone columns with a curly metal lattice between them. Small sparks were skipping across the grate, and I could feel something coming from it myself. I don't think you should touch the bars.
I remember it was supposed to be a local warehouse. One of them. That's right - some chests, boxes and other nonsense of this kind are visible through the lattice. There are a couple of people on duty at the entrance through the fence with extremely phlegmatic, even, I would say, frostbitten faces. Subdued.
I shrug my shoulders. The subdued ones are magicians who were not allowed to take part in the trials, considering them dangerous, insufficiently prepared, or something like that. Some of them, however, give their consent to the procedure of completely getting rid of magic, and at the same time emotions, dreams and all those little things that make a person human. The Pacification ritual simply severs the connection of an intelligent being with a Shadow and turns it into such a frostbitten zombie. By the way, I'm going to have to negotiate with one of them to get a badly needed artifact.
I scratch my head and move on. Irving is still stomping and stomping, and his feet are already starting to buzz. Do local magicians make such ends on foot every day? You don't even need to exercise here - you wind a couple of laps in a Circle every day and that's it, in a healthy body - a healthy mind. Was. I wonder what the Templars feel like then? They're not wearing robes, they're wearing armor.
Let me try a trick... This time I'm not trying to lift objects, but to levitate myself. I succeed, but not immediately - something incomprehensible gets in the way, as if I'm breaking through a wall of pressed cotton wool. It's a strange feeling, but the main thing is that the result has been achieved - I'm hanging in the air ten centimeters above the floor. And now a little more effort... And I'm sliding off the floor like I'm on a skateboard. By the way, I've never skated, at least not in reality. But it goes out noticeably faster than walking or even running.
The subdued ones don't react to my escapade, but they probably would have reacted with indifference to the appearance of Godzilla. I cross the hall at an accelerated pace and get in... back to the library. However, here it is divided into peculiar sections by the same curly grids, except that they are not enchanted. There are noticeably fewer books, and they are not just on shelves, but in real bookcases. Most likely, the literature itself is more serious here, to which not everyone will be allowed. Or not? In stark contrast to the respectable magicians visible here and there, an elf, obviously younger than me, was sitting at a table near the far wall, poring over some kind of folio.
To go further, I temporarily descend back to the ground, in the sense of the floor. I'm not sure if the other magicians would approve of my method of movement if they noticed. I think about going over to chat with the elf, but my eyes suddenly come across a completely empty bookcase. Being in the middle of the others, filled with books, he is very conspicuous. I get closer and discover that the books were taken away from here quite recently - a couple of days ago at most, even the dust did not have time to settle. I wonder what happened here... And here's the answer to the question - a small bronze plaque reads: "Blood magic." The adjacent cabinets contain literature on the schools of creation, entropy, and the elements... I'll definitely have to come back here later. The fact that I also understand writing doesn't surprise me anymore.
Lockers, by the way, are not simple. The tension I felt from the storage grid is there too, and it's much stronger. When I reached for the books with my clawing paws, they moved to the side, and the tips of my fingers prickled warningly. That's right, books aren't for everyone.
I go out the side door and look around. There don't seem to be any extra eyes in the hallway. I take off again, kick off the floor with my foot, and glide forward down the hallway.
So, I overreacted. There's someone in the hallway. Not even someone, but a templar, and he's watching my approach with bulging eyes right now. I sweep past him and wink imperturbably. The Templar (I remember his name, Cullen) makes some kind of indistinct sound, but I'm already quite far away.
Doors, doors, doors... Judging by the sounds coming from behind them, magicians live and work here. I mean, full-fledged magicians, not students. And some of them live together and are quite active. Hm... But now I'm supposed to live here, too. Should I take a look? Hm... But now I'm supposed to live here too. Should I take a look? Well, well... I won't say that they live here in a curly way, but a separate room with a normal bed and its own amenities is clearly better than a shared barracks. But even if I get here, I won't live in it for very long, alas.
The next section of the corridor is no longer empty and you have to move on your own two feet. You shouldn't show off in front of magicians once again - there didn't seem to be levitation in the game, although it could have been a purely internal limitation.
Oops... On the left, along the corridor, there is an arch leading to the central hall with a warehouse. Did I wind up such a distance on my own stupidity, when I could have been safely in place? And how I hadn't noticed it before... I walk the rest of the way, mentally cursing. I calm down only after passing by the chapel, from which someone's prayers are coming. Irving should be at the next door.
That's where he ended up, arguing with a burly guy in Templar armor-Templar Commander Gregor, it would be logical to assume. Gregor attacked the First Wizard with complaints about the fact that a fig of magicians and templars had already been sent to Ostagar, and let them make do with what they already had, Irving objected to the main canned food... to the Templar in terms of "what, sir, are you afraid to let a few extra magicians out of control?" I must say, they were not inferior to each other in any way - both impressive bearded uncles with noble gray hair, one in armor and with a sword, and the other in a robe and with a staff. However, the third person present was no worse, except that his gray hair was not visible and his hair was tied back in a ponytail. Well, beardiness is on the same level. It was he who stopped the argument, noticing my presence.
"Gentlemen, keep it down. Irving, someone wants to talk to you." Three bearded faces turned in my direction and the degree of severity in the room immediately went over the critical mark, stopping somewhere in the Chelyabinsk region. Jokes, jokes... Nevertheless, I was a little shy at first, but then I gathered my thoughts. After all, they're not here to execute me, they're just here to talk.
"Good afternoon," is the standard greeting. It is suitable for almost all cases.
"Oh, so this is our new brother in the Circle", The First Magician pretended to be happy, as if he had seen me for the first time in his life. Gregor was visibly distorted at the same time.
"Is that it?.." the third one spoke again.
"Yes, that's him," Irving confirmed. I didn't understand. What are the secrets of the Madrid court?
"Okay, Irving, I see you're very busy", The templar said dryly. "We'll talk about it later."
With that, he left our company, walking out the door.
"So, what am I talking about... oh yeah. This is Duncan, the Grey Warden."
I know that, but my elf isn't supposed to know that. So I said hello again, this time to the Guardian.
"I assume you've already heard about the battle that's being prepared in the south? Duncan is recruiting mages for the royal army stationed at Ostagar."
What a blessing, we are given a chance to lay down our lives in a sacred struggle against a crowd of freaks. Although for most magicians, it's probably a really tempting offer. To spend your whole life in a Tower or take a walk in the fresh air, even if you are in serious danger...
"Magicians have unique weapons to fight the creatures of darkness. The strength you possess is a great asset to any army. Your spells are very successful in defeating large groups of mindless creatures. I'm afraid if we don't push them back, we're in for another Pestilence."
Stop campaigning, speak up, what do you need? Although it's already clear why.
"Duncan, don't scare the poor boy with talk of darkspawn and Pestilence. He has a great day today."
Yeah, the day I got a huge hit in every sense.
"The torture is over. Your phylactery has been sent to Denerim. Now you are a recognized magician from the Circle of Magicians."
I'm going to start dancing with happiness, damn it. Don't forget to smile, you idiot...
"Now I'm handing you the magician's mantle, the staff, and the ring with the Circle marks. Wear them with pride, because you deserve them."
With these words, Irving took a bundle from his desk, handed it to me, and then added to it an impressive dragon - a magic staff, as I understand it. A nice knob was not included, alas. Apparently, I haven't reached the rank yet.
"Now you can relax or study in the library. This whole day is at your disposal."
"I'll go back to my room," Duncan said to the magician.
"Yes, of course," Irving nodded in agreement.
"My child, would you be so kind as to escort Duncan to his room?"
"With pleasure," I replied without much pleasure.
"The guest rooms are located in the east wing of this floor, next to the library," the First Wizard informed.
And now, with your permission, I will leave. I need to talk to Gregor about something.