Callavan felt numb once the fighting had finished. Exhausted both physically and mentally he didn't even try to defend himself when the accusations started flying. He felt a flicker of anger but it was smothered quickly enough. His ego had overstepped his abilities and lead to the injury and death of others. Fighting bandits had bolstered his confidence, but a greater power had presented itself to him that day and found him lacking.
He bid farewell to the everyone that night, asking that the prince send his pay to his family home in Thoav, before parting ways.
A few days later and he found himself on the shores of Ida'an, with no small thanks to the horse that had been provided with. He crossed the waters with one of the familiar enchanted boats, the wood worn smooth by many hands over the years.
There were a great many new faces eager to learn the secret workings of the world, much as he had once been. There were familiar faces as well; most didn't seem to recognize him or simply didn't care, some threw snide words and insults, fewer still gave a smile and greeting before scampering off. Some things never change.
A quick stop at guest housing was the first order of business. He scraped some of the road off himself, scrawled a hasty note to his family explaining what had happened and then he was off again.
The library was the goal of this trip, a long fat building that could fit most of the other campus buildings inside. Van snaked his way inside, winding through a maze of shelves. A good chunk of his time at the guild had been spent there and even after all this time he'd bet a gold piece that he could find his way through blindfolded. He spent all his time in the library; only taking breaks to eat, sleep, fish, and harass students after drinking too much.
A week passed by as he read and read, taking note of every little thing; but, eventually, being shut in all day with nothing but books and the roving groups of tittering of young magi was slowly driving him mad.
He withdrew to the vaults under the guild where he could experiment in peace and relative safety. He started with simple modifications of spells he had grown familiar with before moving on to newer ideas, pulling from what he had read and whatever strange notion struck his mind.
A slight mishap, involving a remote immolation spell, left his clothes in tatters; forcing him to walk through the campus nude until he found someone willing to lend him a set of replacements.
Shortly after that he received a parcel from his brother containing a part of his payment from the prince, a letter stating that he'd keep the rest safe for Van, and an invitation bearing the royal seal. He skimmed the latter briefly. He was unsure of whether or not he should go. His companions had been good people on the whole, but he felt no sense companionship with most of them.
He tossed the bag of gold from hand to hand. It was hefty, only a portion of his keep and judging from its weight, it would could keep fed and housed for about two month. Four if he was thrifty.
There would be nobles there, that was doubtless. Not that he was keen to socialize with them, but nobles had deep pockets and little sense when it came to spending, and tales of their adventure had likely begun circulation among the upper crusts, greatly exaggerated he imagined. Some fool was bound to offer him a patronage simply for bragging rights. Van could preform simple parlor tricks from time to time and spend the rest of his days getting payed to do whatever he pleased.
It was decided then. He packed his things, as well as a few books that he had 'borrowed' from the library, and took off for Paetax the next morning.
He arrived two days later, leaving a week and a half before the coronation. After finding lodging he promptly lodged himself in a tavern where he stumbled across a familiar face or, rather, she stumbled across him.
âAh, the mage!â Oba exclamed obliging herself to the stool next to his, âOne of them anyways. Sorry, never caught your name before. No one seemed in the mood for introductions at the time, what with all the demons and dieing and then you went and disappeared on us. Well, not quite disappeared, seeing as how you said your goodbyes before going on your merry way. Though I'm sure you could have had you wanted. What with the magic and everything.â
Callavan thought that she was taking a breath after her spiel, but she was only breaking to spout her order to the barkeep before continuing. âHave you been well? It doesn't seem so.â She made a pointed look at the borrowed clothes he wore. They were still the ill fitting rags that he had borrowed after his accident. âI'd have thought the guild would take better care of their own. It only seems fair when they keep such a tight leash on you all. That must be maddening. I don't know how you stand it. Oh, by the way, I'm Yaa Oba, or just Oba if you prefer.â
Van thought back to the citadel. She hadn't fought, nor did she cower. She strode through the conflict with a confidence that bordered on madness. Afterward she had gone around treating any minor wounds that the priestess's spell hadn't cover to prevent infection. All the while keeping up that mad glee.
âCallavan,â he returned, âAnd I'm fine.â
A silence passed between them that slowly edged into uncomfortableness as the two drank. Oba offered him one of the sweet rolls she had ordered. He accepted it.
âSo, what happened to the large fellow that was with you?â he asked.
âOh, Yaatu. He's fine. A bit touched in the head y'know. Far too much stimulation in the city for him, so he stays in our room,â she answered, eager to break the silence. âI'm guessing you're here for the coronation as well?â
Van nodded.
âFantasic. I was a bit surprised when I got an invitation. Tell me, have you found anyone to go with you?â
He shook his head.
âAh, then you'll just have to accompany me then.â She smirked, downing the rest of her ale in one long gulp and following it with a loud belch. âAfter all, a fine lady such as myself can't possibly be expected to walk these streets alone.â
This got a small chuckle out of Van and he agreed to escort her to the coronation. They spent the rest of the evening getting properly drunk and sharing stories. Van told her how he had lost his last set of clothes with a few embellishments, such as marching through the master mages' office and passing through the women's dormitory asking if he could borrow a slip. In return, Oba told him about the time she had accidentally gotten an entire village high during an exorcism.
He had somehow managed to make his way home after the previous night. Extremely hungover, he managed to stuff something that resembled food down his gullet before heading to the shopping district. After talking with Oba the previous night, he realized that he was in sore need of new clothes, especially if he was looking to impress a new patron.
There was some unexpected difficulty in this. All of the shop keeps thought he was a beggar and refused to let him inside. After this happened a fifth time Van was feeling especially perturbed.
âNow listen here,â he hissed, grabbing the keep by the collar and pulling him close. âWe,â he indicated himself and the keep. âAre going in there,â he pointed to the shop. âYou,â back to the keep now. âAre going to take my measurements and then tailor me two suits. The first will be simple everyday wear, nothing flashy. Something comfortable and practical. The second will be more formal. You may take more liberty with the latter, so long as you don't make me look like some foppish git. Do you understand?'
âLet go of me you beer soaked tramp!â the keep yelled, struggling against Van's grip. âSomeone call the guards! This vagrant is attempting to rob me!â
Frustrated, Van grabbed up his beard with his left and released a small flame. It wasn't enough to burn himself, though he winced at the stray embers biting at his skin, but it was enough to singe away most of his facial hair. The intended effect was supposed to make him look like less of a vagabond. Instead, the shop keep was faced with a mad man who had just set himself aflame.
Regardless, it got him into the shop and afterwards he had to force the tailor to accept his payment. He made another stop on his way back to his room, getting himself a proper shave and trim so that he no longer resembled a mangy dog stuffed into a suit.
Between then and the coronation; Callavan spent his days working on his magic, alternating between studying and using a needle and ink to add to the spellwork on his left arm. While his nights were spent drinking with Oba.
Before long it was the day of the coronation. Callavan dressed up in his new suit, the left sleeve rolled up to avoid irritating the new marks; he picked up Oba, who had dressed up for the occasion in a dress with appropriate amounts of frillyness and the two set off for the castle.
Callavan greeted the prince and princess first, bowing low and addressing them as m'lord and m'lady. He felt increasingly uncomfortable. These strange social customs were entirely alien to him and he was simply mimicking what he had seen traveling troubadours do in their plays. He rose almost mechanically, walked over to where the others had gathered and tried his best not to make anymore of a fool of himself.
Oba on the other hand was completely at ease. She curtsied to the two with a slight bow of her head. âIt's a pleasure to meet you again, your highness. As well as to make your acquaintance, Princess. I'm honored that you invited me. Especially after, as I recall, you accused me of being a traitor aligned with the Tommyknockers,â she gave them a playful grin before prancing away to join everyone else.
âOh, Little Bird,â Oba said, seeing that Siobhan was there. âGlad to see that you are feeling better after that impressive display you put on for all of us.â