"Don't worry, Dalquist. I feel honoured to know you've chosen me, and I won't let you down," he said, his head whirling at the rapid change in his fortunes.
Dalquist clapped Grimm on the shoulder with true friendship. "I know you will, Grimm." The younger Questor did not fail to register the catch in his friend's voice. "I'll meet you in the Great Hall at cockcrow tomorrow."
Dalquist nodded, turned on his heel and left. Grimm sat on his bed and began to leaf through the sheaf of papers, his mind filled with images of glorious deeds and the coveted rings of seniority adorning his bare Mage Staff.
Chapter 3: The Broken Bottle
Grimm awoke early, well before sunrise. With time to kill, the young mage washed and groomed himself with care. He then spent some time repairing and cleaning his black mage's robe; his post-Acclamation training sessions had often been destructive in nature, and they had left their marks on his clothing. Once satisfied with his efforts, he took up his staff, Redeemer, and eyed himself in the long mirror in his wardrobe door.
Despite all his efforts, all Grimm saw was a tall, gangling, awkward youth with none of the commanding presence of a true mage, despite the confident stance he tried to assume. He had few belongings to take with him: his patched robes; his Mage Staff; the wax leather satchel containing bags of medicinal powders, seeds and leaves.
Grimm sighed and trudged down to the Great Hall. The blue and gold tiles on the floor and the star-spangled dome above the hall no longer inspired wonder in him, and the gleaming, black Breaking Stone, against which he had proved his mastery, seemed commonplace and unimpressive. He wanted nothing more than to be on the road.
****
Grimm awoke early on the day of departure. Even after forcing himself to take time on his ablutions and his breakfast, he found himself waiting in the Great Hall well before cockcrow.