Hungover
“Come on, get up. You’re wasting sunlight.” Myrrdin yowled right into Sage’s ear.
“Sweet sycamore, go away!” Sage grumbled. “Blasted cat! D’you have to yell right into my ear?”
“A pounding headache is what you get for your vices.” Myrrdin said, looking to the curtains. His eyes glowed, and the curtains yanked themselves open of their own accord, allowing light to flood into the room. Sage groaned and burrowed under his covers.
Myrrdin jumped off the bed, his eyes glowing as he did so. The covers followed him off the bed, exposing Sage once more. “Rise, soon-to-be-mage-knight. You graduate in a week. You need to prepare for leaving the Instructory.”
“Five years of learning magic and combat wasn’t enough?” Sage muttered, curling into a ball.
Another glow of Myrrdin’s eyes sent water from Sage’s washbasin flying through the air and dousing him. Sage yelped accordingly, finally getting up.
“Five years in training and learning do not make you ready for duty. Nothing every readies you for the duty of being a mage knight. Only experience can grant you the wisdom and maturity to do your job as a defender of Aylodae. You are twenty years of age, Sage, and about to become a representative of one of the most cultured and advanced regions on the continent. Bear that in mind as you make your decisions.” Myrrdin advised.
Sage grunted, holding his head. “How old are you again? Because you sound like you have way more wisdom than a cat could ever garner in its short lifetime.”
“I am no ordinary cat. I am a mage’s cat, and have no defined lifespan. But if you must know, cats in general are born with an innate wisdom lacking in all other creatures. . . humans especially.”
No comments:
Post a Comment