we put one foot in front of the other. Who: Lex & Storm What: A request. Where: Lex's quarters When: This afternoon. Rating: G Status: Complete
It was, even he could surmise, a sensitive time for the Cathedral. From the bishops to the Blades, a ripple had gone through the hallowed halls that Storm could barely begin to understand. What he did understand was: it would not now be opportune to seek a consultation with his mentor.
His first recourse had been the library, from which the necessary texts were easily procured. However, his studies with the Guild had been more martial than theoretical, those with the governess not conducive to such arcane learnings. And, perhaps most gallingly, for all his interest in books, Storm was not clever enough to make heads or tails of the information that was presented to him. It was Gale whose mind had culled magic from page, and she whose help he might have sought had he not already known how she would react.
And so the squire found himself walking down a familiar path. Although each step was more hesitant than the last, at length he arrived at Lex’s quarters. Carefully adjusting the scrolls under his arm, Storm knocked and, after a beat, made to open the door.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted as he caught sight of the mage. “I hope this is not a bad time?”
Lex had risen from her desk at the knock, and had made it near to the door when she caught sight of him. There were very few who made a habit of visiting her personal quarters (though perhaps more of late, she recalled, what with the now mysterious Aleyne leaving strange gifts outside her door), and the mage was glad to see it was Storm. Putting aside thoughts of her studies, she ushered him inside and offered him her desk chair.
“Not at all,” she said. Looking the squire over, Lex noted the peculiar scrolls held underneath his arm. “Is there something I can assist you with, perhaps?”
“I—yes. Yes, please.”
The squire stood by the chair, a hand hesitantly hovering over the backrest. It was not polite to sit while a lady was standing, and yet to refuse her offer would be equally discourteous. Settling for a semblance of middle ground, he laid the scrolls on the seat, picking the primary scroll for Cure from the top of the pile. He took a moment to compose his thoughts, unsure of how best to phrase his request.
“I realise that I ought to be speaking with the korporal,” Storm said, hesitant. “And so I apologise if this is an imposition—please do not feel as though you cannot refuse—but,” He swallowed, casting a quick glance at his feet before offering her the scroll. “I had hoped to ask for your instruction.”
“Instruction?” Lex felt her curiosity pique at the thought of a squire needing any lessons from her in particular, a mage. But as she recalled her most recent visit to Hellwyrm, she wondered if it was, perhaps, not so peculiar a thing to consider after all. She knew with certainty however that she, in whatever circumstance she had now found herself in, would attempt to assist him as well as she could. Taking a seat at the edge of her narrow cot, she prepared herself for what would likely be an interesting discussion.
“You feel the korporal would be unable to assist you?”
With one hand extended, she took the scroll from Storm’s hands and began to carefully inspect its contents. After a moment, her eyebrows raised.
“Oh.”
“It is not a lack of faith in the korporal, to be certain,” Storm hastily clarified, his uncertainty giving way to nervousness. As the mage sat, he clumsily gathered his scrolls and, finally taking the proffered seat, set the material on his lap. He wondered if she was now unimpressed by him or, very possibly, by the notes scrawled in his odd penmanship. His hands went for one of the scrolls, idly rotating it as though to find some outlet for his newfound insecurity.
“Again, please do not feel obligated to say yes,” he repeated lamely, before continuing in a stilted attempt at explanation: “It is a requisite skill for knighthood.” (One he was determined to learn even if he was, as yet, unsure if knighthood was the path he truly desired to take.)
“Of course,” she said, her eyes still on the scroll. An amusing thought, she considered to herself, the image of Rictor instructing him in the ways of magic. Lex thought at once that she found the idea intriguing--on an entirely intellectual level (and certainly nothing more), but was careful to maintain her focus on more serious (and by far more important) considerations.
She carefully rolled the scroll back up and handed the item back to Storm. While her expression did not betray the extent of her feelings, Lex did manage to look engaged by the prospect. “As a matter of learning, I would be pleased to assist you,” she assured him calmly.
With that in mind, Lex stood up and moved back to her desk. To say the books and papers lining the workspace were significant in number would be an amusing understatement. The arithmetician was, of course, ever-committed to the task of furthering her own learning, as well as the learning of others.
“As a start,” she said, handing him a slim, leather-backed tome, “you may find this reading to your benefit.” From her assessment of the scroll, it was her opinion that Storm would find the most use out of learning for himself the particular items which he seemed to have the most difficulty with. “Once you have completed the first chapter, we can review your findings together.”
“C-certainly!” came the relieved exhalation, the boy’s voice cracking slightly on the last syllable. Storm cleared his throat to cover up the embarrassing slip, taking the book and flipping through its pages. He was surprised to note that the edition was most informative, written in a style that was infinitely more accessible to him than the esoteric contents of the scroll.
“Thank you very much, Lex,” he said, at once unable to overcome his disbelief nor to suppress the candid grin that crinkled his eyes. “I did not expect that—” He paused, concerned that the sentiment might be taken as a slight. After a moment of quick but careful consideration, he looked up and amended, “I must admit that my exposure to magicks has not generally been… positive.”
Lex leaned against the desk, folding her arms across her chest as she assessed his reaction to the book. No doubt his enthusiasm would aid in this endeavor, she thought. Her approval did not extend to physical reaction, a friendly touch on the shoulder as recognition, or even a pat on the arm. She remained restrained in her expression, a decided contrast to the boy beside her.
“Oh?” Her interest wandered to Storm’s prior magic experiences. He had a history of attempting this before, perhaps? An interesting admission, and one Lex was interested to hear more of. “How so, if I may ask?”
“It is not, that is to say, magicks is not,” Storm began, unsure of how to explain the Kapur family’s stance to anyone that was not already familiar with its esteemed reputation, “a subject with which my family likes its members to concern themselves. There are exceptions, of course,” he gestured towards his collection of materials, “but ours is a family of…”
He decided to go with the most readily available equivalent. “Warriors,” he said. “We are warriors.”
Storm shrugged, helpless. As evidenced by his first conversation with Lex, the brighter aspects of his culture came easily to him. Conversely, this rigidity (intolerance) was a difficult matter for him to grasp, much less explain. “My sister decided she would become a mage,” he tried. “A time mage, that is. To that end, she deemed it necessary to leave home.” Again, he toyed nervously with a scroll.
“Rightly so,” he added, quiet.
Unfamiliar with the rigidity and demands of noble life herself, Lex furrowed her brow slightly and tried to understand the reasoning in Storm’s explanation. Were such things common in the higher circles? She thought back briefly to Rictor’s explanation of his own life path, becoming a knight as was expected of him by his family and their own history. Certainly, the matter seemed similar enough here.
In both cases, Lex decided, she did not envy them. After all, one would only expect as much from an arithmetician--and at times, a rather proud one at that.
“I see,” she said, after some moments of contemplation. Her voice was lacking in any scorn or criticism, but it seemed to her a difficult topic to approach further nonetheless. “Do you suppose they will object to my teaching you?”
Briefly, she imagined an unknown group of nobles storming through the Cathedral doors in a fury.
“Oh, no,” he was quick to say. “Not in the least. As I said, there are exceptions, and certainly no one would be opposed to my seeking only the most qualified resource.”
After a beat, Storm realised it was (to his mind) a rather forward thing to say. He rose immediately, the tips of his ears burning a faint red. Unfortunately, the pile of scrolls on his lap had not been accounted for, and the materials rolled across Lex’s floor. With a clumsy apology, the squire scrambled to collect the items, careful not to knock over or otherwise disturb any of Lex’s personal effects.
“I should hate to overstay my welcome,” he said as he went to retrieve a scroll. “As soon as I have—” the scroll rolled further out of his grasp, and Storm was not above a frustrated intake of breath, “—as soon as I have tidied up, I will not trouble you any further.”
Lex knelt down to help him collect the scrolls as well, and she allowed herself a brief, private smile of amusement while doing so. Once the task was finished, she handed the materials back to Storm and moved to open the door for him, lest anything unfortunate happen once again.
“You are quite welcome to return once you’ve finished the reading,” she said. “I look forward to reviewing the material together.”
“I as well,” he managed to say in spite of his embarrassment. Storm hiked the materials further up his arms, determined to prevent his lack of coordination from getting the better of him a second time. Walking up to the door, he paused at the threshold. Brown eyes met blue.
“Thank you again, Lex.”
Lowering his gaze, the squire shuffled out of the room.