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Message: <blockquote data-quote="BoldItalic" data-source="post: 7378662" data-attributes="member: 6777052">“3…Mage Hands must wear white kid gloves when serving the soup.”Nam-Draz’il sighed inwardly and made mental notes. He would never understand ettiquette. There seemed to be rules for everything and they were all based on precepts from a romantic past that never really existed. He suspected that it was all so that people who had learnt them could feel superior to people who hadn't. He only put up with it because he needed the job. Or rather he needed the privileges that came with the job. For instance, it gave him access to the royal library on Wednesdays which was worth any amount of jumping through hoops and even worth putting up with the condescending sneers of the librarian who treated any request with scorn. Fortunately Nam-Draz’il, like others of his kind, was blessed with a thick skin and the ability to ignore the unpleasant body-language of people he didn't much like.He rehearsed the gust of wind that would set the banners hanging from the roof swinging in unison whenever the king finished a particularly dramatic sentence during his after-dinner speech and the audience politely applauded. Sycophants, the lot of them, he mumbled to himself. One day, he would ...But not yet. He would bide his time and build up his magical powers. Only last week, he had mastered a new spell and made a dead tree trunk and a lump of iron ore out of one of the tables in his chamber. There was no knowing when the magic words Eta-Cir-BaF would prove useful. It came from a tome that he had found in a forgotten corner of the library when the librarian wasn't looking. There were some more spells in it too, but they were all written in a funny mirror writing by a mage called Icni Vadod Ranoel and he hadn't translated them all yet. He was working through one called llaberif that he guessed was something to do with Welsh mazes though why you needed charcoal to cast it was a bit puzzling. Or maybe it was Catalonian. It could be a Catalan word. But he would master it. He was Nam-Draz’il. He could master anything. Eventually. Sometimes.His reverie was interrupted by a fanfare of trumpets, announcing the arrival of ...</blockquote>

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