MALIN DRASWIST IS TOO YOUNG. With the advent of the new king of Cardina and the control of the state relinquished to Synketros, a covert organization bent on harnessing power, things took the turn for the worse. When soldiers start a siege against t...
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2412, Strilaxis 29, Velpa
Malin sniffed, feeling the oncoming cold settle at the base of his throat. All the dust didn't sit well with him over the past few weeks. It didn't help that he's trudging across the main hall on his way to the library.
Around him, priests and priestesses bustled around, bearing wooden basins filled with either water, cloth, or dusters brimming with bland vulkraine feathers. How many of those mimicking fowls had to die to fund the entire army of cleaners in the Temple of Magic? Ymbril wasn't inclined to answer when asked. He tried.
The Temple's halls towered over him even though he swore he had grown taller since his first day. Ymbril told him to be patient or something like that, but he was tired of having to stand on his tiptoes or ask other adults to get a tome for him from the top shelves. He would like to have a bit of privacy regarding his reading preferences. He didn't need the perplexed looks most would throw at him.
It's understandable, though. Malin started on the tomes on his second day in the Temple. It hasn't been a month yet, and he's already smoothed at least four shelves. And they're huge shelves, mind.
He also learned to grip a graphite stick and write the Ylanen koset, just for fun. Having pestered Ymbril to get him someone to teach him how, the High Priestess gave in and assigned an hour of practice with an ancient priest in the heart of the Temple. Going there spooked the living lights out of Malin, but with perseverance, he managed to get used to it.
Now, he never went anywhere without a notepad tucked somewhere in his pockets. The pages were filled with random facts he found interesting in his quest for knowledge. Most of those were words used in maxia and escuira spells. Maybe he'd try rysteme next, for the sake of.
The High Priestess had cautioned him about his mad craving for learning, especially in the magic department. There were roads she didn't want him to end up in, and he acknowledged the sentiment. As the chief presider over the citizens' well-being, she was only doing her duty.
But Malin, after being passed around in the Cardina Coup—as most of the gossiping temple workers called it—he realized how weak he was. If he was a little stronger, if his head was filled with more spells than names of friends and allies, maybe he wouldn't have to be such a burden to Xanthy and the scary varichria. Maybe he wouldn't be left behind while his sister, Marin, went off to take on the world, and Xanthy, his next option for an older sibling, has to save the world.
At his age, he had witnessed how brutal the battlefield was. After Reeca got him out of the rancid dungeon, strange soldiers astride dagrinis and bearing pointy weapons found him. They brought him out of the Royalty region and told him to stay put. Then, they rode off. Ymbril found him later after he wandered off the thick forest and came across the rest of the Nobility region. Only then did he realize he was in the Temple of Magic and that the rest of the Royalty region was slowly succumbing to some overnight civil war.
