(x) Irregular Magic

chapter 22 - where are you going, Hamel?

"Congrats, Hamel."

"Yeah, congrats!"

"Just like your old man, huh?"

Wickham, who had one gray streak in his beard from a nasty stray stunner years ago, slapped him on the back. The former Griffin wore an expression like he had just stepped on dogshit as he grunted a congratulations. It was rare that guild mages were stripped of their rank, but it was rare that the guild head was replaced in such a way.

If Hamel had been in a sour mood before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. It was like a bad joke.

Just like his old man?

Amill Zanatos could be considered a genius—he had made rank when he was twelve, and Uroboros at that. At twenty-two, Hamel was ten years late and received the rank of Chimera. To someone who wasn't ranked at all, Chimera was nothing to laugh at, but Hamel knew it was nothing compared to what his father had accomplished by his age.

Empty mentions of congratulations, that was all.

"What are you thinking?"

Hamel didn't reply, instead choosing to brood angrily at the empty stretch of wall.

"You aren't seriously going to refuse it?"

"I'm considering it."

"What? Why?" Luciel stuck his face in his. "You made rank, Hamel! You've been waiting for this for so long. Why would you turn that down?"

Aris sighed. "Luc, think for a second. Hamel wanted rank from his father, not from Thanahim. And he would want his father's title, not Chimera."

"Oh."

Rather than listen, Hamel stood up abruptly, knocking over the chair. "Don't follow," he hissed to Aris, who sat back down silently. Her eyes spoke accusingly.

You're leaving, again?

He wouldn't vacate for five years like before. But he couldn't stand to stay here another minute. Hamel needed fresh air.

You're running away again, said that nasty voice in his head. Hamel the scaredy cat. Your rank should be Kitten, not Chimera.

Moodily, Hamel kicked open every door until he reached the main ones. He contemplated blasting them open with some heat but decide against it. He settled for one last good kick with the heavy, reinforced toe of his grimy boots.

It was in the yard that a youth called out to him—yelled, to be more accurate.

"Chimera!"

Hamel arched a brow, turning. "Who are you?" he asked, eyeing the raven-haired teen.

"Umeralt Krauss," he shot. "I know who you are. Hamel Zanatos, son of Amill Zanatos, former guildmaster of Havendom. You have a magical affinity of six, and you're gifted in blasting things. You vacated the guild for five years and returned following the death of your father."

"A name doesn't help me," Hamel said steadily, trying to rein in his temper which threatened to flare up again. All this was information available to anyone who frequented the bars in Ilenoir Quarter. The foolish son of the guildmaster of one of the most respected guilds of all time was infamous. "What do you want from me?"

The handsome face suddenly twisted into an ugly grimace. "Your rank. It was supposed to be mine. All the years you were gone I've picked up your slack. Guildmaster respected your father, but you did nothing to deserve the title."