Tick, tock, tick, tock…

Doorkeeper was at peace, comforted by the knowledge that the House was safe within its thick stone walls and sustained by its immutable, ages-old rituals and customs. The effects of a heavy meal and the comfortable, familiar surroundings dulled the old man's senses, and he settled back in his chair with another sigh of deep contentment.

Tomorrow night would not be so tranquil, Doorkeeper reflected, since he would be required to act as Master of Ceremonies at a gathering of mages, representatives of High Lodge among them. Such meetings were always well attended and often noisy. The old man knew there would be demonstrations of magic, sometimes destructive, once the wine had started to flow, as the various mages bragged of their powers, each trying to outdo his peers and prove himself the most powerful mage.

Doorkeeper disliked these drunken revels, since they interrupted his precious routine; as Master of Ceremonies, it was his duty to keep the guests cheerful and well-supplied with food and drink, and he frowned upon the disruption of proper pomp and protocol by what he considered foolish tricks. The aged major-domo liked to tell himself that such childish pranks were beneath him; the truth was that even the very simplest of these 'foolish tricks' was beyond his meagre magical capabilities.

His proper title was Mage Doorkeeper, although, to his endless disappointment, nobody ever seemed to remember the honorific. Despite the fact that he wore a Guild ring and carried a mage staff, he was not a potent master of the arcane arts. For this reason, the old mage tended to dislike talented Specialists from other, richer Houses: men with fine silk robes and bulging purses, who boasted of travels to exotic lands Doorkeeper would never see. He revered the senior mages of his own House, but he tended to disparage the skills of those whom he considered as mere 'Outsiders.' Nonetheless, he was always careful to keep a respectful distance from them.