Lament of a Noble Born

Amiria didn't really know what she would come home to. She was hoping to surprise her daughter by arriving home early. Early in the sense that she came home before nightfall.

What she never even considered remotely possible, was seeing kitchen remade into a makeshift mage workshop.

The old wooden table was covered by an expensive red tablecloth, probably worth more than the house. An expensive looking tea set laid upon its silken surface. A pair of books magically floated, aimlessly, around the room. Enchanted quills writing who knows what on their pages. Crystal like bubbles floated about emitting rays of light as if they were scanning the area.

At the table she saw her daughter, and an old mage. They seemed to be deep in conversation about something. Amiria just caught the end of a sentence as the door closed behind her.

“-at least that's what I think.” Syllia finished. Whatever her explanation was about, it intrigued the mage.

“Interesting,” the mage nodded. “I can see what you're getting at. Though most priests would be livid at the insinuation.”

“They're still doing good though. For the most part anyway. All I mean by-” Syllia stopped when she saw her walk in. “Mom!”, her daughter rushed out of her chair and threw herself into a hug.

“Syllia, what in the world did you do to the kitchen? And who is this man?”

Syllia looked up and smiled, “Mom, I'm going to be a mage!”

What?

“Oh, right. Need to explain it first” Her daughter mumbled. She gestured to the mage, “that's Lesser Magister Firebrook. He came to Mentor's Day, did some test, and said I have the potential to be a powerful mage!”

The balding man in question also rose from his seat to offer her his hand, “A pleasure to meet you ma'am. But please, simply Magister Firebrook will suffice. Instructor and a member of the board of admissions at Silversun Academy. And you are…”

She took his hand, “Amiria.”

“Just Amiria,” the magister seemed to smile, her daughter groaned, at some unsaid joke.

What followed next was a flurry of information from the old magister and her excited daughter. But it all boiled down to this:

Syllia was gifted.

Syllia was special.

One of a kind.

Destined for great things.

The conversation went on for the better part of an hour. Throughout it all she smiled and nodded. All throughout the praise, one though wormed its way into her mind.

She didn't like the way that mage was looking at Syllia.

His eyes. That possessive glint in his eyes as he watched her. It wasn't out of lust, as far as she could tell, thankfully. Yet, at the same time, it might be just as bad. She didn't buy the whole 'teacher' act Firebrook was putting on. Oh, he was good at hiding it. But not nearly as good as he seemed to think he was.

Not to say that her little girl didn't already attract eyes, or even that she was against people looking at Syllia.

For as much as her daughter complained about Noly's physical actions on boys who were obliviously infatuated with her, Syllia was remarkably blind to similar attraction. Amiria has seen no less than five young boys, and girls, she can safely say are infatuated with Syllia. The most obvious of them, was Elrin, the baker's boy. Sweet kid, a year older than Syllia. Always blushes and stutters when she takes her to get fresh bread. Of course, being the reasonable adult that she it, she did everything in her power to embarrass both her little girl and Elrin. Such as accidentally nudging the boy into her, his face went adorably red when he brushed against her, even if it was just clothed shoulder to shoulder.

Sadly, for her entertainment at least, Syllia seemed utterly convinced that the boy had a stutter and was just naturally shy. She even had the audacity to chastise her own mother for making 'a big deal out of nothing'. Amiria wondered how her little girl could sound so much like her mother. All she could do was wait until Syllia becomes a bit more self-aware and realizes just how popular she was.

Amiria mused at the girl’s reaction to finding out her friend's little crush on her. Should be entertaining if nothing else. They did look cute together.

But back to the magister. His eyes weren't any form of innocent affection. Or worse, lustful desire. No, his eyes were that of a dragon looking for a new treasure to add to its mound. Greed. Pure and simple. He didn't see her as a person, just a thing to collect and use.

Seeing that mage's attention on her daughter disgusted her. Amiria was going to get to the bottom of whatever this thing was.

After a lengthy monologue by her daughter about schools, magic, and some other things she genuinely didn't care about, Amiria gently cut her off. “Before I forget sweetie, could you go to the Bazaar for me? I think we are running low on spring water.”

Syllia stared at her for a moment, owlishly blinking.

Amiria gave a warm smiled, realizing she might need to be a bit blunter. She pulled out a purse and placed it before the girl, “also get something for yourself while your there. And please,” she emphasized, “take your time. There's no need to rush.”

A glint of realization finally dawned in Syllia's eyes.

“Oh- Oh. Sure Mom. I mean- of course I'll go. Always need spring water. I'll be back soon- I mean later! I'll be back later!” The girl stood up, purse in hand, and rushed out the door.

Very smooth Syllia, Amiria grinned at her daughter's antics. She got up to peel the blinds back to watch her baby walk down the street. Catching sight of Syllia looking back twice as she walked down the street.

“I must say, you have raised a fine young lady, ma'am,” Firebrook began. He closed the book he was rifling through during Syllia's recounting of the day. He picked up why she sent her out, “I actually find myself quite surprised. You couldn't have been more than sixty when you had her.”

“Forty-two,” she corrected not bothering to turn around.

Sometimes, Syllia seemed so mature for her age. Hell, even more mature than she was! Others, Amiria was reminded that Syllia was just like any other kid.

“Forty-two! And you've managed all this,” he gestured around the small house. “It seems I now know where little Syllia's brightness comes from!”

She'll give him this, if she didn't know any better, or wasn't as experienced in bullshitting people, she would have probably taken his words a face value.

“I must say, madam, that in spite of your youth and financial state, you have raised a remarkably well behaved and bright little girl.”

She waited as Syllia walked out of sight before turning to meet the magister's gaze.

“Why if some-”

“What are you after?” Amiria cut off whatever it was the magister was going to say. Gone was the smiling, cheerful persona she had meticulously crafted over the years. The persona that had gotten many men and women in the past to lower their guards just enough for her to finish her jobs. The persona her parents helped craft for her to easily go unnoticed in a crowed. If this discussion was going to be only about her, she'd probably continue playing the ditzy young mother act.

But it wasn't about her. It was about her little girl. And Amiria refused to play games when it came to her. Part of her was glad she changed out of her work silks before coming home, would have made being taken seriously difficult at best.

Firebrook cleared his throat, “Pardon?” Her tone shift took him by surprise.

“What are you after?” Amira repeated. She took her seat, leaned forward, her gaze burned itself into him. “I've met quite a few magisters over the years, and none of them ever struck me as the type to be charitable on a whim. Yet here you sit, telling me you're prepared to make all my daughter's wildest dreams come true and all you have to say for yourself is that 'you're doing it for her future', that 'you care about her livelihood'? Forgive me for being skeptical.”

Her face betrayed no emotion,

She learned from her mother at a young age to always keep your interrogation subject off balance. Cut them off. Contradict them. Attack their pride. Point out their failings. Needle their feelings. Threaten their loved ones, or baring that, whatever they hold dear. Anything to get them to slip up, even for a moment. Compromise them in some way. Never give them time to build up momentum in their speech or thought process. Never give them any room to breathe. Preferably, this should all be done with drugs coursing through the subject's veins to set their emotions wild.

But you work with what you have, not what you want.

The man blinked, quiet for a moment. For his part, he adjusted remarkably quick. His mind running though the question thoroughly, humming to himself, “I can see how, in light of your,” he rung his fingers on the table looking for the right word, “lifestyle, that this can be perceived as false altruism with a sinister end goal. If that is the case, allow me to put your worries to rest. I am completely genuine in my desire to see little Syllia succeed.”

“Why?” Amiria didn't believe the man. Not one bit. “Why Syllia in particular?”

“Your daughter has a gift.”

“You didn't answer the question. Why Syllia in particular? You said it yourself, you're a teacher at an academy. Why not 'desire' to see your own students succeed?”

“I do,” he replied a little too quickly for her liking, “But her gift is a truly remarkable.” He answered with a sense of clarity that made his assumption seem as if he were explaining that the sky was blue because it simply was. “It sets her apart. I've never seen a child hold so much potential for magic. Student or otherwise.”

“And you know this, because?”

“I know because of this,” he pulled out a smooth gem from his pocket. It was a soft blue color. He held it in his gloved hand, and it began to glow. “This is a mana crystal, a simple tool we use on our students. A student simply pushes as much mana into the gem as they can, and depending on the intensity of the glow, we gauge how much mana they have. It gives a good indication for potential growth in the future. Larger initial pools will always yield proportionally larger growth.”

Amiria's frown deepened, “so my daughter made it glow. I assume brighter than most given your interest in her.”

Firebrook seemed giddy with himself, “it did not merely glow, it shattered.” To illustrate, the gem in his hand began to glow more intensely, then shattered with a satisfying crack into several fragments. “Her output was high enough that she broke it. An instrument use to measure mana was shattered by a child.”

“But that in and of itself doesn't seem so difficult. Any mage could probably do it.” she looked and the broken gem, then glanced up at the magister.

“Yes, any mage could do it, with varying degrees of difficulty. Proper mages, arcanists, magisters, and the like, without a doubt. For my senior students, it would take some time to build up the flow, but they could replicate the feat. Fresh apprentices, if they jointly pushed their mana into the gem, I could see it straining under their collective channeling. But a girl of ten, without any prior magical instruction managing the feat with as much ease as myself, a magister with millennia of experience? That is unheard of.”

“And you want the credit for discovering her.” it was a statement.

He didn't respond immediately. Choosing his next words carefully, “I only want her to succeed. Just like I'd wish for any of my students to succeed.”

‘You already see her as one of your students. No, something you own,’ Amiria thought bitterly remembering his dragon-like gaze.

“Forgive me for changing topics, but I feel I must ask, is her father involved with raising her in anyway?” Firebrook pivoted away from the subject, “I'm under the impression she is not aware of any involvement but are you-”

“She doesn't have a father,” Amiria cut him off.

The magister rolled his eyes, “I meant to say the man you conceived her with. Does he aid you in anyway?”

“I don't know who he is,” she replied, more forcefully this time. It was the truth. As far as she was aware, Syllia didn't have a father. Hell, given the circumstances, maybe she didn't have a mother either.

He thought about his next words carefully, “I understand given your lifestyle,” the magister continued, undeterred by her statements. “And employment it might be difficult to pin down any one man. A simple collection of names would do. Or even just places, the high born tend to not stray far from their homes-”

“Why do you care?” She cut him off again.

He smiled, “I only ask to see if you had other streams of income besides your own to rely upon.”

“I don't need your money.” Rule one Father hammered into her thick skull: Never borrow money you can't pay back. It’s the quickest way to end up enslaved.

He shook his head, “Oh no, I wasn't asking in that sense. I was asking to gauge your capability to pay for her magical education.”

“You assume she's going to be a mage?”

“You saw her earlier, she's infatuated with the idea of learning magic. And unlike most children, she has the potential to actually follow through on her desire.”

Amiria swore to herself. He was right. Syllia had always been interested in magic. From the little crystals that lit their home at night, to the mightiest displays of magic she saw on the street by magical performers. That fantastical force always got her excited. She even remembers some years back that Syllia asked her if she could learn magic one day.

Naturally she said 'yes'; of course. What kind of mother would she be if she didn't encourage her daughter to follow her dreams.

How in the world was she supposed to know a mage, no a magister, would pick her out of a lineup of children!

Truth be told, she had already worked out Syllia's future education. She wanted more for her girl then what she had. It wasn’t that Amiria was ashamed by her own upbringing, but even she can tell that kind of lifestyle was not suitable for a child. Her own parents did what they could given the circumstances, but Amiria wanted more for her girl.

She had found a merchant who dealt in less than legal merchandise who she had negotiated with to help pay for a tutor for Syllia. All he asked for in return was a steady supply of her ‘rat poison’ for his organization and several sexual favors from herself; both were easy enough for her. The ‘rat poison’ was simple enough to make with the right ingredients, and the man was attractive enough that she wouldn’t have to pretend to enjoy him all that much.

A good trade overall.

But even she had to admit, admission into an academy, any academy, would open so many more door for Syllia than a mere tutor could.

She sighed, “how much would Silversun cost?”

“Oh, I assume, substantially more than you make in a year, even given the heavy discounts I would lobby in her favor.”

How generous of you. She pinched the ridge of her nose, “so you want her to go to an academy I can't afford?” she gave a dark chuckle, “If you want me to be a debt slave, could you at least be honest about it.”

“I am insulted at the insinuation ma'am,” he didn't sound like he was. “While having more money would be beneficial, there are other ways to get into Silversun, and pay a pittance of the admission fees.”

“How?”

He smiled, “simple, we don't apply to Silversun. Instead, we sent an application to Dath'Remar.”

What? The fucking blue blood academy! The one where the royals, nobles, and grand magisters send their kids too?

“I'm sorry, but how does it make sense to apply to the most illustrious academy in all of Quel'Thalas when, by your own words, she can't even afford tuition at your middle of the road academy?

If Firebrook caught her snub, he certainly didn't show it. Instead, he looked giddy with himself, “there is an entertaining quirk of Dath'Remar that you will find in no other school. For all the wealth concentrated in its halls, the academy itself charges no fees for admittance. Admission is purely based on a letter of recommendation by an active magister.”

“You're setting her up to fail.” it was statement.

Syllia was bright. Brighter than most. Certainly, brighter than she was at her age. But children from noble houses, especially magisterial families, are on a completely different level. Crushed under the extreme standards set by their parents. Cruel punishments for disobedience, or failure. Strict scheduled and private tutoring. She never met one, true, but hearing her clients praise their children's successes, or bemoan their failings, did not paint the picture of a normal childhood.

They were not expected to act like children, but rather mini adults.

She even heard a story from one of the older girls at the brothel. Long time ago there was this one mage that was humiliated at court. He could tell everyone was mocking him behind his back. Saying he was a failure as a mage. Of course, he pinned it all on his daughter's lack luster performance at some elite school. She didn't remember the name, but it was unimportant. His daughter's failing, the reasons for all the mocking and ridicule he was, or perceived he was under, she could only sustain a water elemental for one minute rather than the three he swore she could. For this travesty, he had her stripped of her titles and family name, but before throwing her out of the house he sexual tormented her for days. Eventually, he grew bored with her and tossed her onto the streets with nothing.

The girl was just eleven at the time, only one year older than Syllia, and was able to create a water elemental. By any normal standards, that mage's daughter was a prodigy almost without peer. For them, it wasn't enough. It seemingly never was.

Amiria had her hunch on what happened to the girl from the story. That woman seemed to have quite the gift for enchantments and magic as a whole; to the point where Amiria wondered why she was a prostitute rather than a mage. And her son, a young man who shared his mother’s talent for magic, was only a decade or so his mother’s junior; though her son had been taken as an arcanist’s apprentice rather than follow his mother’s career path.

Not that she'd ever confront them about this.

“Only by technicality,” Firebrook continued.

She took a deep breath, “so, you want Syllia in your academy. In order to do this, you want to send her to another academy where she will inevitably fail. Perhaps you can fill in the leaps of logic?”

Firebrook gave her a patronizing smile, “It’s a little convoluted, true, but it’s quite easy to connect the dots. Dath'Remar has a reputation of only accepting those with the greatest potential. Children of nobles, magisters, even the royal family, all of them go to Dath'Remar. And from its halls walk out the best and brightest in our society. High Magisters. Seekers of Knowledge. Grand Magisters. Royal Advisors. Simply saying you were recommended to Dath'Remar is an achievement worthy of praise by most academies. Why, it is so praiseworthy in fact that simply saying you were recommended would be enough for most academies to wave any, and all, requirements to simply have the privilege of associating itself with such an individual.”

“So you'd bring Syllia to Silversun's attention as an apprentice that was recommended to Dath'Remar. You'd be able to get her a scholarship?” Amiria walked through the logic.

“I'd try for a full scholarship, but at minimum I can guaranty a substantial reduction in tuition fees for her. If the amount is low enough, I would even contribute to paying it. That all depends on her performance in the entrance examinations.”

“But you're the one who recommended her to Dath'Remar. Wouldn't that invalidate your word on grounds of nepotism”

He smiled, “funny how things work like that.”

So, get Syllia into a lower school by seemingly being recommended to a higher one. Fail, but use the recognition of simply being given the chance to enter as the leverage to waive tuition fees. But something didn't add up.

“How do you even know this will work?”

“I've done it before,” he said simply.

“And it worked? Every time?” she grilled him.

He smiled, “Every time. And I've seen other magisters do similar for their pupils. There is absolutely nothing to worry about.”

If he was right. If he could do this. Syllia could succeed, but she'd be in his debt. That's all it amounted to.

Firebrook stood up and waved his hand. The floating books, quills, and crystals began to glide into his open bag, “I'm afraid I must cut our conversation short. I never anticipated our conversation to last so long, and I do have exams to grade.”

He closed the zipper on his bag as the last of the bobbles flew in. He gestured to a book he left on the table. “A gift for Syllia. It contains basic practices and techniques meant to hone her arcane abilities. Basic, but safe to do at home.” He then pulled out a small card, “and this is my address. Please do not hesitate to contact me with any questions you may have. And don't worry about the tea set or tablecloth, they are yours. A small parting gift to thank you for your time.”

She took the card from his outstretched hand, “thank you Lesser Magister, I will-”

“Oh! But before I forget, dear, one last thing.”

She felt him grab her wrist and twisted it. Looking in his eyes, she saw something dark. Twisted. Animistic. Like the depths of a roaring fire. His thin veneer of civility cast away. The eyes of a monster, ready to rip and tear.

He gave her a soft smile, “A word of advice, Miss Amiria,” his grip tightened. She felt a flash a cold run thorough her veins emanating from his hand. He was using frost magic! “I respect that you wish to protect your daughter. I truly do. However...” She felt weak, falling to one knee as the cold turned to pain. A thin layer of frost gathered where he gripped her.

She tried to wrench herself from his grip. Her eyes began to water. For the first time in years, she felt genuine fear.

She tried to claw his hand with her nails through his robe, but to no avail. Damn thing was enchanted! Obviously! By the end, all she could do was feebly pound against his grip. Biting her lip to keep any whimpers in her throat.

“Don't speak to me in such a disrespectful tone of voice ever again; you petulant, baseborn, whore.”

Then, as quick as it stated, it was over.

Moments later the pain stopped; he let her go. She was left on the floor, wheezing, sweating from the pressure she endured. Her body still shaking from the chills.

He seemed pleased at her pained expression.

“A pleasant evening to you.”

Then, in a flash of light, he was gone.

She was alone, with only her hatred for that man as company.

Syllia came home a while later, spring water in hand. Amrira cleaned herself up and didn't tell her what the magister did. No need to frighten the girl.

–

After the encounter with the magister, Amiria was on edge for the rest of the day. She didn't show it, her mask fell back in place, but it didn't stop her from feeling both the emotional and physical effects of the meeting.

Hours later, as night settled on the city, her wrist still hurt like a bitch. The skin was blistering where the magister had gripped her. It was sore to the touch. As she wandered the from the bathroom, having applied a new set of bandages to her wrist and some more soothing ointment, she saw a blue light emanate from Syllia's bedroom

Softly, Amrira cracked the door open to see her daughter was the source.

She was standing on her bed in a night shirt. The tome the magister left laid open on the floor. Its scribbling illegible from her distance. The room was illuminated by a soft blue light. A small orb of energy hovered gracefully above Syllia. Her arms outstretched, hands almost clasping the light. On her face the biggest smile she'd ever seen on her girl. Her eyes seemed to sparkle at the orb.

Even she marveled at her daughter's spellwork. Syllia had only had that book since this evening. Yet she was able to perform magic just hours later? True, it was just a light. But for someone who never even learned magic before today, it was incredible.

Was this the 'gift' that Magister was talking about? She could see why the magister was so adamant in getting her under his thumb.

“I can do it,” Amrira just barely caught what her daughter whispered. “I can actually be someone.”

It hurt her to hear her daughter talk about herself like that. She was someone to her. She was everything to her.

Before Syllia came into her life, she didn't have much a reason to live. The sex was nice. Drugs were great. The orgies were out of this world. But that was all just momentary. Eventually the party ends, and Amiria was left with nothing but emptiness. Not living, merely existing.

After everything that happened. Her parents. Friends. After all the slaughter. She prayed to anything that would listen. The Light, the elven ancestors, demons, even the damn troll gods. She asked for something to live for.

And the day before she was set to go beyond the point of no return, commit herself to see her family and friends again, she heard a baby's wail in woods.

Her little miracle. Her Syllia.

After that, all she wanted was a normal life with her little girl. To give her that, Amiria had to change her lifestyle significantly. She kept the sex naturally, not only did she enjoy it too much, but she needed to make money somehow. True she could have gone ‘legitimate’ and sold her poisons to the highest bidder, but there was just something about the feeling of being connected to another, the feeling of warm skin against her own, that she refused to part with. She loved the feeling of holding such ‘power’ over someone else, the feeling of them twitching beneath her, or climaxing inside her.

Sex was one of life’s few joys she would never give up.

But she did stop the other things cold turkey. No more killing. No more scheming. No more slaving. No more spying. She was going to be a normal mother despite her own young age and lack of a normal upbringing.

But, deep down, maybe she had always known that Syllia was meant for something more than a normal life. The circumstances she found her in made that abundantly apparent. The corpse, the magical presence that permeated the area, the blackened earth beneath the snow that still hasn't grown back a decade later. It all screamed something. What that something was, she didn't know, even all these years. Not from a lack of trying, of course. But she and her crew had exhausted all potential points of investigation.

The only one who might have known anything was that human, but sadly dead men don't talk without a necromancer. Even then, she doubted he'd be able to even vocalize, let alone speak, anything that wasn't rasping or groans of pain. His body was simply too mangled. Too torn up. At best his limbs were connected by thin strips of meat.

She'd always favored the theory that he was a human who escaped some Amani attack and took Syllia with him. But that didn't explain how he died but Syllia lived. Trolls were not known for sparing children, babes included. She had heard that sometimes, young kids would be taken back to the troll villages to be sex slaves. But they just killed babes that were too young.

Why brutally torture a human but leave an elf baby completely untouched? She didn't even have a bruise from hitting the ground too hard. Did the trolls softly put her down before brutalizing the man, or did they wait for the man to put her down before the torture?

And all the stuff they found in his pockets. Bits of metal, coins of indeterminate origin, slips of green paper with small portraits on them, and all the other things. When she finally realized they wouldn’t provide any answers on their own, she put them in a lockbox and shoved it under her bed in the hope that one day they’d make sense.

Still too many questions for her liking.

Amiria admired the light for a moment, then softly closed the door and made her way to bed.

It looked like that to give her daughter the best chance possible, she'll have to dig into her old toolbox.

First thing in the morning, she was going to send Firebrook a letter. Get him to set his scheme in motion. Yes, he was using her little girl for his own ends. Probably for some court intrigue nonsense. But that didn't mean it can't work both ways. As much as she hated to admit it, being able to say you almost got into Dath'Remar was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Even failing to enter sets one up for their choice in magical education. She has no doubt that, like the magister said, any magic academy would bend over backwards for someone recommended to go to that school.

Such as Dalaran. Or any place that didn't have backstabbing and scheming as an explicit part of its curriculum.

But to do that, she needed to put that magister in his place. She was going to call in every favor, every promise, she was owed to get all dirt she could on that magister. No magister with that kind of ambition, who is that old, was clean. Whether it’s a beaten whore here, an illegitimate child there, or just actual murder. They all slip up eventually. And she was going to find every secret he had, even if she had to break into his residence in person to find them.

But before all that, she needed a good night's sleep.

Then they'd see who had leverage over who.