Wizard and scholar
A light breeze rustled my hair as the sun set, setting the trees and farmlands beyond the Nentir river afire in it's dying light. The soothing sound of the Moonwash falls completing the feeling of relaxation and contentment I felt at this, the end of one of my last days of study with my master Nimozaran before my apprenticeship was ended and my life as a wizard began. I shifted slightly in my chair, set in a small clearing along the north edge of the Septarch's Tower, holding the book of Fallcrest history lightly as I remembered my younger days.
I rarely saw my father anymore, his duties as a hunter and trapper keeping him away from town most days. I had always been an intelligent boy, learning quickly the ways of the wilderness from my father and mother. Long trips we would take into the woodlands around Fallcrest, my father teaching me the ways of the beasts in the fields and forests, my mother teaching me of herbs and trees. I was still quite small when my mother died, a slight frown crept across my face at this sad memory. The snake had been poisonous, and help had arrived too late. I still suspect my father blames himself for not being there in time, but I know she would have called him silly, and then made him laugh. That's what I remember most about her, laughter and warmth. After she was gone, my father stopped laughing. He approached Master Nimozaran about an apprenticeship, and after many questions and some funny games the wizard had agreed. To this day I don't know how my father was able to afford the fee my Master had demanded, but pay it he must have because from that day on I had lived a life of study and practice.
I had taken to it from the first day and the pursuit of knowledge and perfection of my art has been my life's passion ever since. I smiled then, as I remembered the many discussions and even debates between my Master and I on the subjects of magic and history, philosophy and the natural world. From my Master I have learned discipline and insight, as well as the ability to bend reality itself to my will. From him I have also learned the value of knowledge, it's power and price. People often consider my Master odd, eccentric, even senile. "They do not understand!", he would often exclaim. "The guild was a force for good! By banding together we could share our knowledge and thereby increase our power. We could become greater than the sum of our parts. They think me greedy, or mad, but the guild needs resources. As the High Septarch it is my duty to care for this guild, to see it continues as a force for good into the future.", he would mutter. "Yes Master.", I would always reply. "Even Lady Markelhay does not understand.", he would sadly whisper. "I understand Master, and I will help you make the guild great again." He would smile then, and pat my face fondly, "You are a good lad Ridcully. My little Ridcully the Red."
My reverie was interrupted then by the shrill voice of Tobolar Quickfoot, "Ridcully!" The little man was striding quickly from around the side of the tower of pale green stone that was the Septarch's Tower. Once a possible apprentice of the Master, Tobo had been unpromising at best and was grateful when the arrival of Ridcully had relegated him to the wizards' butler, chef, and handy man. "The Master wishes to begin the ritual shortly and bid me advise you to prepare the ritual chamber." Tobo said breathlessly. I smiled, and stood, tucking the book under my arm, "Well we must not keep the Master waiting then.", I said, and I started toward the entrance to the tower, waving my hand absently at the chair, which rose into the air and begin floating along behind me as I made my way back to the front of the tall green spire.