#wizard school

It was a meticulously kept space- pens and pads in a neat line at the end of his desk, unnecessary items kept in decorated boxes against the wall, artworks of famous wizards hanging on the walls behind clean, polished glass. The only sign of disarray was in the large chalkboard making up the entirety of one wall. It was covered in letters and words, in indiscernible charts and frustrated scribbles yet to be erased. The board was unusual itself- most wizards tended to use concentrated light or dictation to cast words on a board. Gershom, however, found himself enjoying the tactile aspect of putting chalk to board, and word to paper. It was much faster too, which made for an easier time recording notes, quotes, and other thoughts.

He had always been the type to ask too many questions in his student seminars at the tower, and had always loved to create problems for himself. His former mentor, Toadstle of the Gloaming Dream, always loved to share the story of how Gershom had put so many annotations in his copy of Nortootin’s Poem of Spring Rains that instead of calling rain, he called a plague of locusts. Toadstle had lunch for several days, but his other students had fled in terror. 

Though Gershom studied under Toadstle, and successfully graduated from apprentice to wizard, it was readily apparent that the Poetic School of Wizardry was perhaps not the path Gershom was meant to take. His poetic spells were perfectly metered, and always rhymed beautifully, but they underperformed next to romantics like Ofelia the Romantic. They were too logical, lacking in emotional resonance and beauty. At one point in his career, Toadstle had advised Gershom to consider transferring to a mathematical path, or even linguistic, but Gershom had stuck true to the School of Poetics. (At no point did Toadstle suggest a kinetic path, or even worse, forsake wizardry for sorcery or artificiery. Gershom had the mind of a wizard, no one could deny this.) 

There was still debate onto whether or not the style of spellcasting Gershom was slowly inventing was poetic, mathematical, or even linguistic, but none of the schools were interested in absorbing him and his studies, leaving Gershom in a liminal, unliked in-between. 

Gershom seated himself on his side of the desk. His own chair was old and had been patched up numerous times, and would likely be uncomfortable to anyone other than Gershom, with the way it had long molded to his exact shape. The other side of the desk had a cheap, unwelcoming and uncushioned chair that he had liberated from a classroom. 

Aurion made to seat himself in Gershom’s guest chair, then spotted Gershom’s workboard and sauntered over to examine that instead. “And what’s this?”

“Something I’m working on at the present.”

As Aurion’s eyes moved over the board, his expression changed from amusement into something indiscernible and closed off. “And what’s this,” he said again, this time in a low voice. 

“It is unfinished, and none of your business.” Gershom sighed and reached for his spare cloak, then tossed it on top of the workboard. “Spare me your opinions, please. I get enough of them from the other wizards.”

Aurion lifted a bit of the cloak with two fingers. “I can see why. Most wizards aren’t keen to operate around restrictions when they could be reaching new heights.” He let the cloak drop. “But what would I know? I’m no wizard.”

This was true, but as a sorcerer, the work wizards did had a direct impact on his own line of work. Furthermore, he had just been at Palladium Tower, and was meant to be delivering a message to another wizard. However, Gershom reflected, even those who practiced magic but were not wizards tended not to understand the full extent of wizard politics, nor the technicalities behind the scenes of spellcasting. Gershom let it drop. “It’s never too late to resume your studies, should you wish to become a wizard.”

Aurion looked at Gershom through the corner of his eye, then finally settled in the guest chair. One leg was thrown over the arm of the chair, and he leaned back over the other to accommodate the position. “Only if you’d be my mentor.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Tell me then,” he answered, tilting his head so it could rest on the palm of his hand. “Maybe you’re the one I’m meant to deliver this to! Wouldn’t that be something? And it would make my life much easier.” 

“I doubt it is addressed to me. I don’t receive much correspondence.”

“Correct me then.”

“I am Gershom the Logical,” he said. 

Aurion’s smile stretched into a perfect grin. It was roguishly charming, and struck Gershom as incredibly practiced. “I’ve never met a wizard with that epithet before. Clever, dextrous, hard-working, but logical?”

“I am exceedingly logical,” Gershom replied in monotone. 

Aurion laughed in two short bursts. “Maybe I should take lessons from you, then! I’d love to learn more about your unique perspective. I’ve always found logic to be quite dull. My winning smile has done more for me than a practiced argument.” He showed off said winning smile. Gershom studied the line of his straight teeth before he nodded to concede the point.

“Your hypothetical burgeoning career as a wizard would be immediately made static if I was your mentor.” Gershom settled into his own chair, smoothing out his robes as he settled. “Now, what was the name of the wizard you were sent to deliver a message to? I can look it up in the floor registry.”