Disclaimer: The usual. ;)
Balthazar insisted that I keep some sort of journal. You know – to pass on my knowledge to future generations of sorcerers and wizards and witches and so on.
"As Prime-Merlinian," he stated, "you are the most powerful living sorcerer. It's just fitting that you share your wisdom, your knowledge, your experience to generations to come." An annoying ghost of a smirk was obvious on his mouth.
Assuming you lived that long, I thought morbidly. If you knew about the different messes and trouble that I deal with everyday, you'll find that phrase fitting.
Anyway, he handed me a dusty old leather bound journal bigger than the Incantus, and an honest-to-God quill and an inkwell.
I could sell them on e-bay, and probably get a great price from antique collectors.
"Master B," I said (I try to get in his good graces every now and again by calling him Master), "You, are in the 21st century! I hardly even use notebooks to take notes now!" The notebook part was only mostly true, but I REFUSE to handle a tome larger than the Incantus and seemingly more prone to falling apart.
"Well what do you have in mind?" Balthazar asked, his arms crossed, and an eyebrow rose. He looked like my dad.
"A blog?" I shrugged, gesturing at my laptop, and flipping it open. "Would that work?"
Balthazar blinked at me. "What's a blog?"
I frowned. "You don't know what a blog is? A blog is sort of like an online journal."
"The internet won't last forever, Dave. In a hundred years, it might be gone - unlike that book."
It looked like it was going to fall apart, I swear. But Balthazar leveled me the look. He reserved that look for serious moments, and for scaring people.
I'm used to it, but it's still so… effective. I immediately grabbed the tome, and lifted it on to my arms, grunting with the effort. The thing was heavier than all my Physics books bunched together.
Balthazar sighed and waved a hand. The huge book shrunk down into a small, leather-bound notebook that looked more like a planner than a journal. The quill and ink disappeared too, replaced by a pen with some small logo of a quill on it.
"Go on, then. Write." Balthazar said.
"What about the blog?" I asked. Can I announce to the world the existence of magic? I didn't ask.
Balthazar didn't say anything. He shot me a glare, picked up the Incantus and walked away.
I took that as a yes, obviously.
So… well, this is it. Not a lot of things said for a first blog post, I suppose. As only an apprentice and a normal (enough) citizen of New York, USA, I find it hard to believe that anyone's going to be interested in this little blog. But, hey, a journal's a journal. Whatever you read in this thing goes down in my little black book for "future generations". I just thought I ought to share something with generation too, to whoever might listen.