"And so the next day I left Bruma, got formally sworn in as Arch-Mage, and came home."
The subject of my work shrugged, skipping over what was a well-described ceremony in which Ra'jirra, most importantly, knelt before the Emperor himself, swore undying fealty to him and the Empire, and was officially recognised before the entire faculty of the Arcane University as Arch-Mage.
Afterward, there was a memorial service held for the late Arch-Mage Hannibal Traven, who had, officially, been struck by a long-acting curse of some kind while examining an artifact retrieved from a necromancer stronghold. It had taken me a long while to regain my composure after learning just how Traven had really succumbed. Indeed, there were issues raised that led to me spending more time at the Chapel of Dibella than I usually did.
What Ra'jirra also skipped over was several months where if anyone wanted to speak with the Arch-Mage, they had to make the journey to Faregyl and its inn, where the Arch-Mage and his increasingly pregnant wife provided an often cool reception. Ra'jirra was, after all, more at home on the farm than in the council chamber, and for the first two years of his regime would only visit the Imperial Isle if there was no alternative – and make those trips as short as possible!
One reason for his reclusiveness was his family, one of whom was sitting on his lap with a predictable expression on his face. J'dargo is a rambunctious five year old kit, and his parents and I agree that, assuming he doesn't get himself killed, he's a sure recruit for either the Legion or the Fighter's Guild.
Sure enough, J'dargo asked the question that all bedtime storytellers dread. "And then what happened?"
"And then," his father looked solemnly down at him, "you were born. And now..." he paused dramatically.
J'dargo stared at him, breathless.
"It's time for you to go to bed," Ra'jirra finished in a firm tone.
In between J'dargo's birth and his far more recent bedtime, Ra'jirra had decreed a number of remarkable and in many cases disruptive changes in the way the Mage's Guild was run. The SCARE Act was passed through, which, while sometimes violently objected to by the more hermit-like of wizards, managed to reveal knowledge that would otherwise have been lost with its discoverers. Apprentices are now more likely to be found rounding out their skills at the guildhalls instead of sitting through lectures at the Arcane University. Similarly, the scholars are now able to educate at a more elevated level – although, as Ra'jirra said to me, "I've still no idea what they're blabbing about."
I was most surprised to be approached by the Arch-Mage about writing his memoirs, not only to his satisfaction, but while still capturing his basic character as he insisted, was a great challenge. "I don't want to be remembered as a stuffed suit of armour," were his precise words.
Ra'jirra is often earthy – far earthier than I dare put down on paper – blunt to the point of outrageousness, but at the same time has a fierce loyalty to guildmate, kin, the Nine and Empire. I for one wish him a long, happy and prosperous life both in and outside the Mage's Guild.
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