Zenith sighs and shakes his head, "Just like when I was young, eh Wizard?"
In his minds eye, Zenith sees himself back when he was not Zenith. Back to a time when he was a fierce spirited young noble who didn't want to study magic, he wanted to be a warrior and see his enemies lay in their own blood at his feet.
His parents, Lord Protus and Zerka of the clan Magus Magnus Antiquia(Roughly translated: The Great Old Wizards), could do nothing to quell his ambitions, and he joined the Zenithian Army. His parents tried one last desperate ploy, and hired an old Wizard to tutor the boy. The wizard was known for guiding young boys into fine noble men in high places.
The Wizard was a kind soul and tried everything he possibly could to calm the young noble's boundless rage, which consumed his soul and filled his every waking moment with thoughts of battle and bloodshed.
"Enough! I will have this no longer!" The boy said, turning his back on the Wizard and the books that were set out for him to study.
"You try to teach me these things and then you tell me I should not use them? Why should I even bother then? And who makes up these rules? If you have power, you shouldn't use it? What kind of nonsense is that?" He fumed about the room for several moments before returning and pressing his face right in the old man's, "The only kind of power that is worth a damn in this world is that which comes from fear! That is the greatest and most powerful of all, no man will stand against you if he fears you like nothing else! That's what drives this world! Not these silly books!"
And he flung the books from the table against the wall, smashing several jars with assortated items of unknown origins within them.
The wizard just sighed and shook his head, "Someday you will learn that power, as you say, does not always bring you what you want. And until you do," The wizard stood up slowly, "I can teach you nothing."
And it was that day that both the wizard and the boy parted ways, only to meet again years later, on the battlefield.
A great human king had died in a battle with his own kin, a sad story with far reaching implications. From Avalon to Zenithia, all mourned the loss of this great man, except for two. An old Wizard, and a fierce warrior with noble birth rights who used magicks and weapons to anniliate his enemies.
The wizard was captive in a spell woven by a young nymph had seduced and tricked him, creating a prison of nothingness to hold him while her plans came to fruition. And the grove in which they had lain together became his tomb. But nature saw to it that he would be free...
The warrior had tracked game far deeper into the wood than he had anticipated, and was not quite seperated from his companions. This was fine, for he had planned to leave them behind anyways as he was a mercenary.
The buck strayed into an open grove with a small stream running to the side, and the light on it's head and back caught the young man's eye. He drew his bow back, keen on taking the buck down with one shot. For if he was to make a sound, his company would be quick to follow.
He sent his concentration up the shaft of the arrow, ensuring it would strike true and closed both his eyes. The loosed arrow made not a whisper or a whistle as it struck the animal down. The creature was dead on contact, with not a drop of blood spilt.
The warrior made his way through the brush, being careful as not to make a sound. He came upon the slain deer and was pleased, kneeling down to take it in for it's full magnifisence.
But something was odd, on the fur of the buck, above the right shoulder, a queer glow sparkled and shimmered like a reflection on a river. Sensing magick like electricity in the air, all the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his mouth tasted of ozone. He looked up and saw a shimmering castle, that wasn't really there. A mirage of the grandest proportions, complete in every detail. And in the tower, looking out a window like so many other prisoners the warrior had seen, was the Wizard he had known when he was younger.
The man stood, recognizing the face in the window, and the Wizard in the window stood in turn. A moment of silence passed between the two, and then the warrior knew what needed to be done. A good dinner spoiled by making it a sacrifice, to nature herself.
The wizard was confused, babbling about some woman and he "should have been there". Without warning, the wizard turned and backhanded the warrior, and then jumped on top of him and started to choke him with a strength that was not his own.
As the young man struggled to breathe, he recieted the lines of the only spell the wizard was able to teach him: a spell of exorcisism.
The wizard crumbled to the ground and began crying, "What has happened? Where is my king? Oh sorrow and painful anguish, can you not see how I torment myself that you should need to complete this pain?!?"
The warrior just stood there, not caring either way, just glad to have the crazy old man's hands off his throat.
"Well Wizard, the fates led me to you. And now my work seems complete. I'll leave you to your depression, yet we will meet again." And with this said, the man wandered back into the forest. Leaving an old man with tear stained cheeks, holding his head in a lonely grove with a stream running through it.