[Judgement] The Wakening Warden (Keene Ward)

[Ink]

40th of Fall 514 AV



The judgement in progress was a Nuit in a young Vantha vessel. He had opened a voiding portal, the inky blackness absorbing the light around it. As he concentrated the portal began to slowly inch to the right, rotating. It was a highly advanced skill to be able to move a portal to the void. He would most certainly have passed until something moved in the bleak mirror. A vision of movement, a swish of limb. The applicant’s concentration faltered and the Nuit fell back. A three finger claw pushed it’s way out of the portal, a residue of filmy all that seemed to hold back the dark leathery creature.

Before the sluggish Nuits could react a woman with hair so fiery red it challenged Syna’s setting for vibrance, jumped to her feet. Res secreted from her mouth and eyes, in instants it expanded across the floor. As she snarled the res bloomed into an inferno drenching the portal and its occupants in fire. “Close It!” She yelled over the roar.

The applicant realized almost to slow and the portal winked out of existence. The limb that was protruding from it loped off and tumbled on to the floor. A number of Nuits were moving, two tall figures escorted the man between them, away from the judgement room. He had failed. One of the judges had left his position on the panel to gather up the limb, this vessel had lanky blood hair though the skin at his cheeks seemed to be cracked and ready to fall off. He scuttled back to his place.

The next applicant was up. A hand pushed Keene forward.

All five of the judges this season were nuits. Keene had seen exactly none of them before. Even worse none felt the need to provide introductions. Two of the judges were Nuit in elder vessels, while one was distinguished and stately the other seemed to be thickly coated in dust. The only woman no pupils whatsoever, but instead jet black eyes a red stripe painted across her visage. That left two judges, one had stringy hair and a decidedly distracted look in his eyes never quite focusing on anything very long. The final judge looked by far the least stable out of any of the others. This last judge’s hair was attempted to escape its tie, and where the others were apathetic towards their duty he was singularly focused. The intensity of his gaze made a number of the participants before Keene squirm.

Apart from the judges there were a handful of audience members. This season’s work orders were keeping the majority of Wizards and Apprentices busy, there was no leisure to watch judgements.

One of the elder Nuits, that one covered in dust, looked down from his seat behind the panel. “Show us your project and make it quick.”

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[Keene Ward]

In spite of Risabel's limited explanations regarding the nuits, Keene still had a difficult time telling them apart from the regular humans (barring those who's decay had already set in). Keene's experience in Sahova had been an illuminating one, but as much light was shed upon the darkness of his ignorance, there were still vast expanses of shadow in his understanding he had yet to explore. The judgement was not unlike what he had imagined. The lecture hall at the end of the ground level of the Gug Andjak had been partially filled (as always, the general population of Sahova was far too engrossed in their various projects to attend something so menial as a judgement). There were, however, more people gathered in the room than Keene had ever seen in one place since his arrival.

The current participant, a dark haired young man, stood in the center of the room in front of a row of judges. They were altogether unfamiliar to him (something Keene found to be more comforting than anything else). In order from the left to the right: there sat an elderly man poised with all the authority of a royal; an elderly corpse of a creature Keene found to quite clearly be a nuit; a woman with piercing black eyes - unnerving and warlike - with a striking strip of crimson running across her face; a greasy, unkempt man with all the appearance of some nervous rodent; and finally, by far, the most intimidating figure. While the others stared with (at most) some semblance of attention, the last judge was like some beak nosed hawk with a stare that could have unnerved the dead (the irony of Keene's observation completely lost on him).

Having little experience with other forms of magic outside his own reimancy, the current display was fascinating. He had dominion over darkness, or so it seemed. A circular window of darkness had been opened at the man's desire, though it was not completely dark. It swirled and writhed with a life of its own, a quality that set Keene on edge on a subconscious level. Where reimancy was a relationship between the natural forces of the world, whatever the man was doing was very decidedly not. The window began to rotate, something that did not strike Keene as particularly relevant until several members of the gathered community whispered quietly (a gesture that had not been extended to any of the participants before him). Squinting at the man's face to discern just how difficult it was to turn the strange two-dimensional sphere of darkness, Keene (along with the majority of those assembled) was startled to see something move in the murky blackness.

Quickly adjusting his understanding of the magic currently being performed, Keene decided it was not a control over an unknown element, but rather an opening between realities. He had spent little time considering much beyond the reality of his world. The potential for realms of existence beyond the physical one he could easily observe became a far greater interest to Keene than the strange creature that had begun to emerge from the portal. A flash of excitement jolted through Keene's body as he rose to stand, glaring at the hand with an analytic appraisal. It was like nothing he'd seen before; terrible, dark, and alien. It was, potentially, the first time anyone had seen such a beast, and Keene found his curiosity pulled to new levels. It was at that point he realized the dark haired participant had not intended for the unknown creature to break through.

There was a general aura of confused panic, common to such scenes of disaster. The aura, however, was as far as the feeling extended. Keene glanced around the room, preparing his Djed for a fight if it were to come to that. His res was not the only presence of magic he felt beyond the portal. A woman haloed in the most vibrant hair Keene had ever seen was several steps ahead of him. He stared, frozen by the fluidity and mastery of the woman's res as it effortlessly flowed from her eyes and mouth, snaking across the floor like lightning before erupting into a hypnotizing blaze of elemental rage. She shouted above the resulting din, a command to close the portal.

From the moment the fire flamed up in front of the portal, the rest of the nuits finally moved into action. The dark haired man managed to end his spell, resulting in the removal of the creature's limb without resistance. The man was led away from the alien hand, while one of the judges (the rat-like nuit) left to gather up the arm, presumably for further study. As he shuffled back into his place among the others, Keene felt a hand shove him forward, indicating it was now his time to be judged. Stumbling for his first few steps, Keene regained his composure, gliding over the floor that had, until the last chime, been a sea of flames. The decrepit nuit, shifting under his layer of age, spoke with an equally dry and disinterested voice, seemingly unaffected by the spectacle that had just unfolded before him.

Keene had prepared no project. Risabel had indicated each judgement was unique in its criteria, that every participant was judged based upon their individual abilities. He stared at the musty corpse of a creature that had addressed him before letting his gaze spread to the surrounding judges. None, aside from the intense stare of the far right, seemed particularly interested in the pulsar. He understood, at the very least, the living had far more to overcome than the dead. Seeing no sympathy in any of their faces, Keene turned instead to the reimancer that had done what none of the nuits had had the ability to do. His tone was even, calm, and respectful.

"Thank you."

Turning back to address the panel of judges, Keene shook his head. "I have no project to show you." Res dripped from his fingertips, pooling about his feet. With no prepared exhibition, he decided to revisit his mother's studies. "May this suffice." The res rose up around him, his hands gently guiding the translucent liquid as it began to expand from its liquid form into a glistening mist. Altering the res's properties, the substance disappeared into the air. Ticks later a cloud began to form. Keene continued transmuting his res into water, saturating the air and the particles it supported. More res crept from his feet along the floor, changing itself into a steady breeze that pushed the now substantial cumulus several feet above the floor. Keene, having created the cloud entirely from his own res, had broken into a sweat, his concentration focused entirely on the multiple manipulation and transformations of his res. Slowly, Keene formed a ball of res in his hand, softly swirling his wrist until the sphere grew to the size of his palm. With a fluid gesture, he tossed the ball into the cloud, simultaneously expanding and transmuting it to create an over saturated cumulonimbus that began to pour down rain, splattering against the floor and saturating the surrounding area.

Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, Keene drew in a large breath before exhaling a cloud of res that swirled out from between his lips. At the extent of his res supplies, Keene twisted the res into in a spinning, inverted cone before altering the gossamer strands of res into pressurized air. The miniature tornado sucked the cloud down into itself, dispersing the event as it faded from noticeable observation. The speed had been such that it was enough to affect the cloud above it without becoming self-sufficient and growing out of control. Droplets of water were scattered across the entire room in the process, and few of the members of the room (excluding those who had taken precautionary action) remained entirely void of saturation. Keene especially was soaked from head to foot.

"Clouds form through the introduction-" He paused, running a hand through his hair to cast off the brunt of liquid that had accumulated in his locks. "The introduction of water particles. When said clouds reach their maximum capacity to store these particles, they are released." Keene extended his dripping hand in gesture of the evidence. "Highly pressurized cyclones have a direct influence on these phenomena by drawing in and dispersing these water particles, thereby dissipating the state of the cloud through dispersion. ...in theory." His body felt unnaturally light, as it had been quite a long time since he had used so much res for a single spell. In theory, Mella and he had speculated large scale tornadoes might be able to counter act the effect of storms (several other factors and relevant theories also factored in, making the application of such theories beyond simple, controlled instances impractical). Having little else to say, Keene folded his hands behind his back and awaited the judge's response. His display of reimancy had been intended as both a practical and theoretical performance of his skill and research. The fact still stood, however, several of those in the audience muttered their disdain for their current state of affairs.

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[Ink]

Roknus, the nuit with a top not of messy hair, watched him speculatively. A horribly sinister tilt to his eyes. “A reimancer then?” Her voice snaked through the room. The ghosts of past apprentices never presented but it was clear from the audience’s cringe, that this judge had a foul reputation.

The nuit who had grabbed the void creature’s arm, Bellerian was his name, eyed Roknus momentarily before turning back to Keene. “What brings you to Sahova, Applicant? There are other cities that can foster a reimancer, we are not the nurturing type.”

All of the judges failed quite judiciously to look at the red-haired woman, the master reimancer, the new warden. Just as they were able to ignore the previous failed judgement and move without fanfare on to Keene’s. It was apparently a gift of the undead wizards.

Elsene, the Chaktawe and only female judge, waiting for the two men to speak before adding her question. “Can you sustain a greenhouse? Do you believe with additional work you could combine your elements to cause humidity?” If Keene wished to speak about weather then not only did he have a captive audience, but an interested one.

The two elder nuits, remained quiet in this regard. The more stately fellow, Rubik, had given him a cursory glance but for the most part seemed apathetic. Cryptly, the dustier nuit, utterly inert. He had blinked, taken a breath, or so much as twitched in a number of ticks. Though age of a vessel had no actual connection to the age of the nuit both men seemed to have lost some essential facet of humanity which left them looking like marionettes to the living.

Roknus chimed in, “As a reimancer I would take him in the sanctum.” He was too eager in his offering. “What say you Applicant...?” His expectant note didn’t linger, an interruption was forth coming.

Cryptly, his tall hat almost more animated than he was, replied. “He is still living, let us find a use more appropriate while that is still the case.”

It seemed there was another in agreement, a a tiny spot of res had snuck up in the judgement and planted itself a few feet in front of Ward. It sparked into a tiny flame no larger than the candle. “I agree,” the woman’s voice asserted, it was the warden. “I have requested an apprentice. I will take him… if he can put out the flame before it naturally runs its course.” The only real trouble was the flame was a master level working of reimancer, how could an Apprentice applicant ever hope to extinguish it?
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[Keene Ward]

The first to speak seemed to sneer of Keene's display. However, Keene found the nuit's input to lose some of its weight as a short sideways glance to the audience gave him the impression the judge was ill liked. Unfortunately, the man still had a say in the ultimate fate of Keene's judgement, which meant it was wise not to do anything to further sour their already waning relationship. Instead of replying, Keene kept his mouth shut, instead nodding in deference to the nuit's insightful statement.

A second voice addressed Keene, his voice lacking the disdain of the previous judge, but replacing it with a jittery cadence void of sympathy. Keene expected little else from the man who cradled the void beast's arm like a child. Nodding his understanding, Keene responded with his cool, even tone. "I am not here to be coddled." Unsure whether he should mention his ostracized status in Zeltiva, Keene determined it was best to keep that information to himself unless specifically asked. "I seek greater understanding, not a mother to hold my hand."

The woman with the red marking and disconcerting, inky eyes waited until the two men had finished their questions and absorbed his answers before she spoke. Though her voice rang with the same detachment of those prior, the content of the inquiry gave the impression Keene still had a chance to impress them. "It is possible." Humidity was similar to the way clouds were formed, but in the environment of a greenhouse, heat was also required. Having no skill with the unruly element, Keene imagined the process would be a dispersion of res to attract the particles of warmed or boiling water. Impractical, but potentially optimizable with further exploration. "Indefinite sustainability would prove problematic, but finding a solution would not be beyond my abilities." He found the practical application of sustaining a greenhouse to be a bit odd given the plant life on the island to be extremely limited, and there was no sign of any establishment in which more plants would be fostered. There were, of course, the lower levels of the building they were in; Keene assumed the buildings were below.

The remaining panel had resolved themselves to silence. The aristocrat had bestowed upon Keene a single tick of his attention before settling in to his tight lipped manner, allowing the others to handle the interrogation. The corpse, however, had all the givings of an inanimate shell left empty by the passing of the soul within. Though his attention had been focused on the other nuits until then, Keene doubted the man had moved a singly inch since the judgement had began. Thinking back to the previous debacle, he was unsure whether the top-hatted mass of flesh had even reacted. A small cloud of concern snaked across Keene's eyes as he further regarded the nuit. Risabel had not explained the process through with a nuit passes into the next life, meaning it was entirely possible the man had died without the notice of his peers.

The woman had nodded at Keene's response, though if she had had something else to add, the first nuit - with the disheveled hair and intense glare - spoke up once more. Keene found the man's intensity in his offer to be disturbing. It was so clearly contrasted with the indifference of the rest of the panel, he regarded the invitation with a highly concentrated suspicion. There was also the mention of the "sanctum", yet another location Risabel had failed to mention. Keene was quickly being reminded of just how foreign Sahova truly was to him.

Keene's response was halted by the emission of a sound from between the cracked and dusty lips of the twice-dead creature at the end of the panel. Keene's eyes widened slightly in surprise, though the majority of his emotional display found itself diverted into squeezing his hands behind his back. The rest of the judges, however, seemed as though it were perfectly normal, nodding in agreement with the man's statement - all but the first, who's face fell into a sulk.

There was a slight disturbance behind him, an advent of res that moved unnoticed by the pulsar as his attention was focused entirely on the muttering nuits before him. When the spark lit itself, Keene gazed down at the flame with an interested raise of his brow. The female reimancer's voice sounded behind him, her reward and trial stated clearly. The other nuits seemed disinterested once more, their attention waning as the flame continued to flicker.

Typically, the best way to put out a fire was to surround it in a larger body of water and deprive it of usable oxygen. However, the flame was fed by a steady flow of the woman's res. Were Keene to waste too much time in contemplation, the res would burn itself out on its own, resulting in his failure. Having no intention to discover what happened to those who could not pass a judgement, Keene exhaled a breath of res, a shining bluish cloud of dust like particles that swept across the floor and began to swirl around the fire. Revolving his pointer finger, Keene spun the res faster and faster, the res forming into a thin cylinder exponentially taller than the meager height of the flame. With his other hand, Keene released several small beads of res (his body feeling the airy lightness that often came before he exhausted the last bits of his reserve restricted how much res he could produce without bringing harm to himself) that darted over to the base of the flame.

With a swift twist of his wrist, the spiraling whirlwind of res was transmuted into a vacuum of air, drawing the flame up through the funnel. Wasting no time, Keene slid the beads of remaining res over the other reimancer's glowing marble, the base of the flames a distinct distance from where it was being transmuted. Having only a short amount of time before the whirlwind's effects were dissipated, Keene pressed his remaining res into a disk, muffling the woman's res and transmuting the inner circle of his res into water and the outer ring into a pressurized front to maintain the form of the liquid disk.

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[Ink]

Roknus sneered, “Well then, will you take another to your killing field Warden Atziri?”

The woman who had been named quirked a brow, “It is within my rights, I claim him.” Clearly Keene’s dousing of the flame had been taken as acceptance of her as an apprentice. There had been a choice, Apprentices could refuse Masters though it never truly happened nor did anyone inform them they could before hand. Everything about the judgement was designed to test acumen and ingenuity. “He passed the moment he thought to remove the res path, everything else was incidental.”

The opposing wizard muttered something about ‘Silverheart’. Boss Rubik, the stately gentlemen who seemed to not care at all about the proceedings stood. “Your judgement has been accepted, but we will not have you as an apprentice. Until such a time as you are made Nuit or die, you are sequestered by the Wardens of Sahova. Your Master is Warden Atziri, Guardian of Mt. Merlius.”

The red reimancer placed a firm hand on Keene’s shoulders and steered him from the judgement chamber. The expediency with which she did it implied that sticking around might be hazardous to either of the human’s health. “If you have any belongings to gather, go do so Warden Apprentice...” She rose a brow, “You’ll need to supply your name at some point, or not. I could always make one up for you.” She smiled at the jest, the humanity of the woman seemed ever brighter for the lack of the residents of Sahova. “When you have your things, meet me at the vestibule. We have a long walk, and much time to explain your duties.”

Without further ceremony Atziri left, her boots tapping confidently down the stone halls. Her passing was marked by an echo, like the ghost she would one day leave behind when her sworn duties eventually take her life. The world Keene had just stepped into was an end for nearly every soul that did so. To make the choice he had was daring, foolhardy, but could prove just as advantageous as it could treacherous.
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[Keene Ward]

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As both res and element faded (though the water sopped onto the floor, joining the puddle of the already wet stones), Keene turned his attention to the first to speak. The man with the messy knot of hair atop his head and beakish nose gave Keene the impression that the advent of the fiery headed woman's request had shifted the focus from him (which, truth be told, had never been a very intense sort of appraisal) to a much larger subject, one which Keene was not privy to the details. The's man's contemptuous question caused the young reimancer to give a curious turn of the head towards the red-haired woman who replied with a simple statement Keene found much more appealing than the stuffy interrogation of the other judges. She was a Warden as well, the guardians of Sahova or whatever their greater purpose was. Boswell had spoken of them with both awe and reverence. Even Risabel seemed to concede they weren't the absolute worst possible outcome for a Pulsar. He found it odd then, that such a feeling of foreboding still passed over him, like a shiver in anticipation of trials to come.

The woman continued to speak, mitigating his choice of technique while still acknowledging his success in her personal trial. While relieved to have impressed the Warden, Keene was uncertain what it all meant. None of the other judges seemed even remotely impressed, though the man with the bun did appeared a bit perturbed at Warden Atziri's claim to him. He seemed to grumble something under his breath, but it was too quiet for Keene to make out. It was of little consequence, however, as the official looking statue of a nuit rose, his voice surprisingly full bodied (though it's grandiose nature fit his appearance so well, had it been anything else, Keene would have almost laughed). He addressed Keene directly, his dark, lightless eyes bearing down upon him with all the gravity of an executioner. It was odd that the nuit separated so clearly the distinction between an apprentice studying within the Gug Anjak and an apprentice of a Warden. He found himself tilting his head slightly in confusion at the mention of being sequestered. Having never heard of "Mt. Merilus", Keene found his focus on the strange way the other nuits had started looking at him. There was a strange aura of animosity that had slowly been growing over the course of his judgement until it had reached such a point that even he noticed it.

At the touch of the hand upon Keene's shoulder, he immediately stiffened. It acted as a guide, pushing him away from the murmuring chamber and out the door with a swiftness that kept Keene from asking any questions. He had many, but he found the woman seemed to wish the both of them out of the sight of eyes that had grown hostile, something that was better accomplished by a quiet apprentice. Once the heavy wooden structures had eased shut behind them, the hand was removed allowing Keene the comfort of his personal space once more. Uncertain and confused with the rush of events that had just transpired, Keene was little able to do anything more than stare dumbly at his new Master Warden as she instructed him to gather his things at meet her in the vestibule. Nodding, Keene was caught off guard by the woman's seeming caprice in the form of a smile. It made her all the more interesting, as Keene had always believed those prone to smiling had more than the average person to hide.

As she stalked down the stone floor to head out into the courtyard, Keene gazed after her with a knit brow and watchful grey eyes. Her stride was bold and self-assured, her footsteps sounding a powerful echo that reverberated around the room like the passing of something great and terrible. She was to be his new master, his new purpose. Strange that he had left what had once been his home in Zeltiva to find his own path only to walk straight back into his past. A small pang of ache attempted to claw its way out of his chest, which he resisted with a grimace and clench of the fists. The Warden, Atziri, had not been the master he had been expecting, but perhaps she would be the one he needed.

Turning one last time to stare at the intricately engraved wood of the doors behind him, Keene cemented the imaged of the barred portal in his mind. He had passed over a threshold, however unknowingly, into a realm from which he could never return the same person. The doors were a reminder of that, a potential to return to the past in exchange for all that made him human. Shaking his head, Keene slowly made his way out of the Gug Andjak, his footsteps light and unassuming against the cold stone of the floor beneath him. Where his master had trod with strength, Keene glided over in relative silence. He was not the Warden his master was, not did he believe he would ever be so; yet there was a part of him that glowed with excitement and anticipation for the journey ahead of him. It was surely filled with strife, hardships both physical and mental. From the sounds of what he had heard in the judgement, it was more than likely that nothing but the cold embrace of the death awaited him. Yet, in spite of those things, there was also the potential he'd been seeking after. The potential to aspire towards something greater and to change both himself and the world within his influence.

Stepping into the humid breath of the courtyard, Keene made his way across the meandering path, his mind too focused on the events that had just transpired to notice a young woman exit the building behind him, following closely and matching his steps. When she spoke, Keene jumped some, turning with a sharp widening of his eyes only to see the bushy head of Risabel wearing her typical, mischievous smile. "I just saw her leave!" The excitement in her voice was similar to the emotion that Keene had begun to feel in the pit of his stomach, though his face showed little indication of it. He had yet to fully analyze and understand everything that had just transpired, nor was he certain he quite grasped the gravity of the situation. Until such things were made clear to him, emotional displays were premature and foolish. Risabel, however, seemed to care little for Keene's process. "I've brought you a gift in honor of becoming a Warden." Pulling his backpack from out behind her back, she extended it towards him. The way the "gift" was presented made it seem as though she had gone out of her way to procure the bag for him, when in fact it had been held hostage since about the day he'd arrived on the island. Without it, however, carrying his supplies would have been an arduous task indeed.

Reaching out to accept it, Keene offered a curt, "My thanks, Ms. Timpel."

Risabel, usually one to find his curt way with words to be insulting simply grinned and nodded. "Don't get killed out there, alright?" She winked, adding a short addendum of, "Maybe next time we see each other, I'll be a Master with my own lab and some real gifts to give you, hm?" before twirling to face in the opposite direction and bounce off into the mists. Keene stood there, watching her disappear with a small pull at his frown. He wondered how long it would be before they next saw each other, and if such circumstances allowed from them to speak to one another, he wondered how much different they might be. Shaking his head of the peculiar bite of his speculations, he headed into the Quarters, pushing the heavy door open as he slung one of the straps of his backpack over his shoulder.

Inside, the chilled air met his moist skin with a cooling kiss, turning what sweat he had produced into a comfortable barrier between the heat of his skin and lowered temperature of the controlled atmosphere. Striding to the stairs, Keene ascended, his boots tapping against the stone in a steady, slow rhythm as there were many steps to conquer before he made it to his floor. Once there, he exited the stairwell, gliding down the hall and stopping at his door on the right. Withdrawing his key from his pocket, he unlocked it with a sharp click. Pushing the door as he made his way into the room, he kept it open so that the light of the hallway illuminated the dusky interior that had served as his apartment for the past several weeks. A naturally tidy individual, Keene had only to begin stuffing first his food then his clothes into the bag before tying the straps into place and re-shouldering the now much more substantial wight of the pack. Gazing around at what would be the last time in a long time since he would see what had, in a way, become his second home, Keene gave the rickety little table with the reliable little water basin a firm nod in farewell before placing the key in the center of the gods be damned mattress before heading out.

On his way towards the stairwell, Keene hesitated at the fourth floor.Though they shared little in the way of individual interests, hobbies, and proclivities, Boswell had been the closest thing to what Keene imagined a friend might be in both his time on the island as well as his life. It was proper to say farewell, but he did not hear the tell-tale snores and raucous laughter of the young man echoing down from his room far down the hall to the left. Against his better judgement, Keene proceeded down the hall anyway, stopping at Boswell's door to rap his knuckles against it a few times. There was a muffled snort before the sound of the lock jiggling indicated it was being opened. The man who greeted him had a wild bush of feathery blond hair and a suspicious, green eyed glare. He was entirely naked and seemed rather upset at Keene's disturbance. "What do you want?"

Keene's eyes flicked over the man's shoulder, the room within lacking both the furs and natural dishevelment that he had come to associate with his hunter acquaintance. With a short shake of his head, Keene replied, his voice calm though tinged with a bit of confusion, "Excuse me, I have the wrong room." The man promptly shut the door, muttering about the stupidity of slaves. Keene headed back down the stairs, the quick evacuation and repopulation of his room striking him as odd, but not entirely uncalled for. There were so many empty rooms in the Quarters, it wasn't unheard of for people to switch from time to time. Though he wasn't sure when he'd be back, Keene never once stopped to consider the possibility that some fate other than the whim of reallocation had befallen Boswell.

Once more in the stifling head of the courtyard, Keene adjusted the weight of his pack with a short hop in which his feet didn't leave the ground before heading along the path towards the vestibule. He made sure to keep himself well within the parameters of Mistress Wanda's barriers, but there was the found sound of a child's laughter that seemed to swirl around him as he exited the courtyard. A quick glance behind him caught a small, spectral hand waving in his direction. Were it Oscar or some other denizen of the graves housed within the little iron fences of the court, Keene wasn't sure. Still, it seemed the final farewell the citadel had to offer him.

Warden Atziri stood stark red against the darkened backdrop of the the arch riddled space deemed the "Vestibule". Giant statues filled the evenly spaced niches, all of stone and equally stoic feature. He found the grandeur to still hold a sense of awe in its sheer size, despite the many times he'd passed under their stern gazes. Making his way with a calm gait to stand in front of his newly appointed master, he made a shallow bow, the weight of the food in his pack a bit much for the full blown gesture. Straightening up, he addressed her as he did everyone else. His calm, even tone and steady gaze meeting the near glowing visage of the woman whom he addressed, "My name is Keene Ward." The similarity between his last name and new title passed unnoticed to his attention. "Though if you prefer another name, it isn't my place to refuse you."
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[Ink]

Atziri's mossy green gaze watched her new intiate approach. Appraising her new apprentice. “No Keene, it is not your place to refuse me but before this is through you will wish it was.” Though her words held warning her smile never slipped. The fiery woman grabbed Keene’s wrist and slide on a studded leather vambrace. All along the vambrace runes were etched in silvery filament. “That vambrace works like the Wizard’s ring. Unlike the Apprentices there are no areas restricted to you except a few very high security rooms. I will explain more as we walk.” The Warden left the vestibule and made an immediate left right off of the road. Though her footing was sure, if a path existed only she saw it.

It was a long walk, and though explanations had been promised in was at least fifteen chimes before she spoke again. “There are only a handful of things that you need to know for your first day Keene. One, the wilderness on Sahova is unlike any in the rest of Mizahar, all of it wants to eat you. Not just animals, but plants and the weather as well. If you recall the WIlderness is your adversary you might survive. Two, if you should ever see a great red flare rise above the citadel you race for it. No matter what you are doing, everything is to be ceased and you must reach the citadel as fast as possible. Three...” She trailed off again, the toying smiley joined by a happy hum. They had been walking in a northeasterly direction for nearly twenty minutes when she stopped. Reaching above the trees and hills, a mountain tore through the skyscape. “Three. I am the Warden of Mt. Merlus. One of the most active Volcanos on Sahova. Currently the only Warden assigned outside of the Testing Grounds.”

Atziri gave Keene a moment to take in the sight, it was easily one of the biggest Warden domains although not all of them were mapped so it was impossible to be certain. After the pause she continued on her tromp down through the hills that led to Keene’s new home. “If you have any questions, ask them now. After we arrive your training will commence immediately.”
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[Keene Ward]

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Warden Atziri had a way with words that made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. Though she seemed to speak a portent of doom over him, she remained light-hearted; her smile never letting her lips fall from their playful curve. He could not decide if the jest lay in her words or mannerisms, but he sensed there was, somewhere beneath the impish layer of his master a force beyond his comprehension. It was from that unknown strength that she could be so strangely cheery in spite of the surroundings about them. She was far different from any other creature he had ever come across, and while he had at first believed her merely to be yet another positive sort of woman with secrets to hide like the rest of her ilk behind an easy grin and understanding gaze, she was something more than that. She did not hide behind her mirth, rather she seemed to protect him with it. It was disconcerting, but he felt as though had she done anything else, it would have full out scared him. He was sure that particular emotion of fear was going to be present plenty in the days to come.

She was, however, far more "hands on" than he would have liked. As she snatched up his wrist to shove a strange piece of leather over his hand, Keene's muscles tensed up, his teeth clenching in response to the unwanted feel of her skin against his. She explained that the intricately engraved lines of silvery etchings were to serve in much the same fashion as the ring that Risabel had shown him a short time after his arrival. Atziri spoke in a businesslike fashion, choosing the words that best suited her without a need for frivolity, a refreshing change of pace from Boswell's drawl and Risabel's deceptive perkiness. He nodded his understanding, falling into step behind and slightly to the right of her as they headed towards the exit at the long end of the massive hall. They kept a brisk pace, though Keene allowed his attention to wander to the thing layer of leather, the vambrace, that had been strapped on to his arm. It was a multi-layered piece, complex, silver linings running the course of the leather in intricate swirls and swells. It certainly looked the part of a key to most of Sahova. The lifting of restriction, however succinct and non-ceremonious the delivery had been, meant he had become one of the residents of the island. True, it had gone in a much different direction than he had anticipated, for the most part he was content. Atziri seemed to think his contentment would come to an end soon enough, and he had little reason to doubt her. Yet, he could not help but feel a small amount of accomplishment, though the feeling was quickly tuned towards his future, fading as he was quick to realize just how far he had yet to go.

Thought Atziri had told him there would be further explanation, the two of them trudged through the hall and out the archway, taking a sharp left off what little path there was. Though he didn't question her, Keene did find his footing unsure as he fell into step directly behind her, taking care to pay close attention to the ground in front of him. His pack was heavy and the cursed air of the island, no matter the time he'd already spent there, still seemed to draw sweat from him not matter the amount of physical exertion he seemed to place upon himself. It was not, however, nearly as unbearable as it had been when he'd arrived. Be that it was due to the weather itself or his own body's changing preferences, Keene found that though the sweat did trickle down his face and wet where the pack met his back, it was relatively less awful than it had been. In the silence that stretched between them, Keene let his eyes wander during the paces of the journey that did not require him to carefully place each foot to avoid rolling his ankle and tumbling to the ground in pain.

True to its humid, almost tropical climate, the area was sparsely populated with small trees and ground hugging bushes. There were almost no signs of animal life about, though the strange, pale birds he had first thought to be seagulls when he had arrived from Zeltiva were scattered about the landscape, some flying while others perched on what objects they could find. Though barren, the grasses stretched out across the expanse, their yellowed blades swaying in the muggy sea breeze, a hauntingly picturesque beauty in its own right. He had spent much of his time around the island in what areas he was allowed, but never had he thought to hike out towards the other side of the island as they were doing now. The scenery remained constant, but as they continued, the air seemed to grow thicker and the bent and twisted gnarls of the trees began to appear in greater force, extending up the mountain ahead with stark, wind bitten bark. It was no Zeltiva, but it held a ominous sort of grandeur.

Atziri chose then to speak, Keene taking larger strides to fall beside her on whatever path it was she followed. Her voice rang out over the stubbly grasses and off of the barren trees, its confidence and warning tone catching and keeping his ear as they continued. Where Keene's breathing had increased to an audible intake and outflow of air, the Warden's cadence was such it was almost as if she sitting comfortable at a desk rather than trudging across the Sahovan landscape. They were words he was intended to remember, so Keene took careful account of what was said. The first, and he imagined it was the most important, was that Sahova was not Zeltiva, in that the wilds of the land were indeed wild. To disregard the dangers that Sahova housed in its rocky embrace was to disregard one's own life. It had been a lesson he had already begun to learn, and he doubted there would ever be a time when that learning would cease save death. As he gazed ahead of them, the landscape before them seemed to be reiteration of Atziri's caution. It was sparse, subdued, barren, yet beneath its surface it thrived with magics and mysteries so plentiful, he wondered if he would ever be able to touch even a small portion of them during his time in the world. A brief flash of the privilege (and curse) of an eternal life passed over it, but it took no root. Life was meant to give way to death.

The second decree passed from the lips of his fiery headed mistress. He nodded, understanding, in part, that the Wardens were the guardians of sort of the island. The flare was most certainly a call to arms, though what that call might be regarding, Keene had little idea. The society of wizards seemed rather tight-knit and orderly. Any sort of dangers were merely the wizards themselves, and he doubted any, if not all, those present in the citadel couldn't defend themselves. Still, the command was given with emphasis such that he understood there was little to question. It was a directive he was to follow, regardless of all else. He glanced back at where they had come from, the towers of Sahova distant and hazy in the murk of the day. They had come quite a ways out (though it was nothing compared to the arduous journey to the docks), and he doubted he would be able to get to the citadel at a much faster pace than they had been maintaining. Were the flare to rise in the distant future, however, Keene had the feeling he would be better suited to traveling quickly over the wilds of the island. That, or he would be a pile of bones festering in some unknown location, never to be found again. He preferred the prior.

The third and final bit of information Keene found to be the simplest to remember. As they cleared a rise, Atziri halted, her voice ringing proud and powerful as the two of them gazed at the vista before them. The hills continued on, their slow, lazy slopes interrupted by the vast, towering mass of the land he had seen from so far a distance. It had seemed to creep up upon the skyline until it suddenly burst through it, a powerful, angular body that pushed and pulled the land around it. It was, as the idiom would have it, a breath taking view. From the way she delivered her title, Keene had not to ask where the mountain nor the rest of the domain lay. It was all about him, expanding before the rise as a vast, unknown territory with dangers and wonders both. His moment to gawk - though he did so in a dignified knit of the brows with pursed lips in analytic observation - passed, he followed behind the Warden, trailing slightly behind as he did his best to recall the "path" they had taken thus far. It was, to his knowledge, a semi-winding trail with the mountain as its heading, though if that were true or false, Keene had little idea.

The air was the then dictated as a space to which Keene might cast his inquiries. He was certain they were headed towards whatever sort of camp of sorts where they would be staying. It was the logical conclusion, as she had had him gather up his things with a finality in her voice that gave the firm impression it would be some time before his return. There were, however, questions. "I was told the Wardens are the guardians of the island." His words came halting as the descended a steep decline in their descent. "What is it they guard the island from?" Thinking more, Keene added his last question, deciding that Atziri had told him most of what it was she had intended him to know. "And why did you choose me?" It had been bothering him since the judgement. He was grateful, there was no question about that. However, Keene knew full well the extent of his magic. He had met it face to face with the gibbat dogs, and while he was no milky eyed soggy lump of a fool, he could almost feel the waves of power rolling off Atziri's frame. With training, perhaps, he could improve, and he desire as such. But there were many wizards on the island far greater than he, perhaps even better suited to whatever work is was the Warden did. He was Keene Ward, a child still, though he would not have admitted it. To have been chosen for such a task was as baffling as it was incredible.

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[Ink]

The scenery changed little, but Atziri gave no further instructions. They had been walking for nearly a bell now, most of it uphill before anything changed whatsoever. A gopher bolted out on the trail ahead of them. The Warden emitted rez from her mouth and transmuted it nearly instantly. A pebble bathed in searing flames shot forward and struck the vermin in the skull. Trotting forward she grabbed the dusky creature by its forelegs. The single shot had been a quick, humane kill. There had been no pain.

The way she walked through the mountainous terrain made her seem more about of it than she had in the Citadel. Their path had grown ever steeper in the last few chimes before, suddenly over a nearly vertical ridge appeared a platteau. Atizir pulled herself up after tossing the gopher across the dirt. Her gloved hand reached down to give Keene assistance over the last bit of the climb.

Once the ground leveled for several yards in every direction, their destination became apparent. Before them was the mouth to a cave, it stood no more than half again Atziri’s height, and the darkness within seemed absolute. “Put down your things. Your first lesson is now and then you may settle in your chamber.”

The warden stood vigil as he prepared. Her eyes were scanning the rocks, though if this was her home likely the animals had begun to learn her territory already and were giving her a wide berth. “Sit comfortably on the ground and begin to produce res.”

After a tick of waiting, when the warden became certain her intiate was concentrating she smacked him in the back of the head with her open palm. The force was minimal she did it purposely to disrupt him. Though no shield a newly initiated could make would stop her hand, it was the thought would inspire the magic. “Why aren’t you creating res Keene?” She asked mockingly. Each attempt he made at concentration would be interrupted by a slap.

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[Keene Ward]

Atziri's silence that followed cued Keene that what he had just been subjected to was a test, on which he had failed by responding with questions. It didn't weigh heavy upon him, however, as she seemed to be indifferent. Had she rounded on him, shooting flames from her mouth and roaring her disapproval, Keene might have been more inclined to worry about future responses. Instead, she simply continued forward, her confident gait striding over the uneven ground with a familiarity that made his own stumbling seem all the more feeble in comparison. Though he knew her poise and grace had been developed through experience and time, it didn't change the growing gap between the two of them in his mind. It was how it should be: master and student, power and weakness. While perhaps not his entire goal to match her, he now had a better to strive towards. It was, in a sense, that which he had been searching for, though having been untethered for so long, Keene wondered how effective an apprentice he would be. His face turned into a small frown as he corrected his steam of consciousness: initiate. The nuit had made very clear he was not an apprentice, though the differences in definition were so menial, Keene didn't see the point.

His thoughts were interrupted with the advent of a creature bursting from a hole in the ground, darting across their path some distance from where they were. With a fluid flash of res, Atziri launched a fiery missile at the creature, knocking it off its feet with a shot clean through the skull. There was no sound of pain, nor any indication that the animal had even realized it had been attacked and killed. Keene raised an impressed brow, though he found the kill to be a bit poor in taste. Atziri continued along her invisible path, fluidly stooping to retrieve the carcass, holding by the back feet, letting the head dangle and she continued along, her momentum unbroken. Staring curiously at the creature's singed hole where its eyes had been, he was surprised to see that no blood flowed out of the animal's wound. The fire had effectively cauterized the flesh, searing it shut behind the bullet of stone. It was an interesting tactic, one he was unable to replicate with his own repertoire of skills but useful enough for him to take note of.

They continued walking, the heat seeming to grow ever more with each step they took. Keene's useless shirt had once more become a sopping mess of a rag, the area between his back and his pack thoroughly soaked with perspiration, though it was warmer and sticker than the rest as it was closed off from what little breeze there was. His breath came heavy, though his lungs were only beginning to strain, the incredible journey from the citadel to the docks still painfully fresh in his mind. As far as they had come, it was still not quite as arduous as the trip had been, albeit the current incline was much more taxing than the comparably gentle slope of the main path between dock and city. It grew steeper still as they forged ahead, his breathing increased dramatically with the shifts, until he was a panting, sweaty mess behind the ridiculously juxtaposed healthy sheen of his master. As the "path" came to a point at which rock shot out of the earth at a firm vertical, the woman easily pulled herself up over it, turning to offer a hand in assistance. He stared at it for a moment, taking a few ticks to gauge his own ability to clear the ridge. With the weight of his pack and the weakness of both legs and lungs, he came to the conclusion that help would be the only way he'd make it. Reluctantly, he clasped the woman's wrist his his hand, gripping tightly as he heaved him up over the rocky outcrop.

As he quickly removed his hand from hers, Keene brushed off what dirt he could that had stuck itself to his sodden mess of shirt and pant, before he looked up to see a the mouth of a cavern a few yards ahead. It was understood that that was their destination, and Keene had already started to remove his pack as Atziri spoke. Nodding, he finished placing his pack upon the ground, his movements impaired by his uncomfortable, unsaturated clothing. She spoke of lessons, and he found that if he were to give his best, even with the irregular rise and fall of his chest from the solid hike they'd just completed, he didn't want to be constricted by something as menial as his clothing. Pulling the shirt up and over his head, it fell to the ground with a wet plop, kicking up a little cloud of dust that settled on the now dull sheen of his pale chest's layer of sweat. Another command was given, one which he was quick to oblige.

Settling onto the ground with legs tucked under him, back straight, and hands placed loosely on his thighs, Keene stared out over the impressive, expansive landscape they had just recently traversed. He couldn't make out a single point through which they'd traveled, however, the path completely obscured by his totally alienation to the geography and layout of the island. With time, he was certain it would be much easier to navigate, as he was relatively confident in his memory when it came to such things. His mind calmed and his breathing (while still heavy) in control, Keene tapped into his Djed, feeling the inner store of his being that he kept stocked for just the occasion of producing res. Letting out a slow, controlled breath, he felt his Djed begin to shift. It stopped immediately with a firm slap to the back of his head. His body was pushed forward, though more out reaction from surprise than pain, as Atziri let out a little taunt. Straightening back up, Keene attempted to produce his res once more. He chose a different path this time, trying to gather the Djed and release it before the inevitable strike once more broke his concentration.

Things continued on for many more slaps. A small bruise was beginning to form on the back of his head, despite Atziri's aim seeming to gradually change to find new, less tender areas for her disruption to be delivered. The exercise was not unlike the countless bells spent with Mella during his reimancy training, though usually she had at least allowed him to produce the only substance that he had to defend himself with. Still obediently locked in his seated position, Keene found himself growing uncharacteristically frustrated. It had been almost an entire season since last he'd been tested in such a way, and in his respite, it seemed he had found weakness of will. In spite of some greater, shrouded goal Atziri may have had in store for him, Keene had finally come to the conclusion that, at his current level of magical talent, he simply couldn't produce his res fast enough. It mattered little where he tried to pull it from, how quickly, or in what form, as the moment he began the process and lightly concussive blow was delivered directly to his head, rattling both his thoughts and his body. With a frustrated clench of his teeth, Keene pushed back instinctively with his Djed, hoping if he used the Djed closest to the hand, perhaps it would result in a faster expulsion of res. The resulting effect however, was much different than he anticipated.

He felt the Djed itself leave his body. It passed through the physical boundaries of "Keene" out into the open air, where it remained for a fraction of a tick before Atziri's hand passed through it, knocking him forward yet again. This time, however, Keene popped up immediately, whirling around with wide eyes and a confused frown. "What...?" It was the first time since his coming of age that his body had so thoroughly thrown him for a loop. "What was that?" His tone, usually calm and even had a slight jitter, and the interest that had sparked in his grey eyes shone brighter than it had in a long time.

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