Chapter 831: Alexander Roth, Wizard of Generasi

Chapter 831: Alexander Roth, Wizard of Generasi

The young archwizard’s name was etched on his chair.

Literally.

Golden, glowing letters—written on the surface of transparent force magic—spelled the name ‘Alexander Roth’ in all of its glory. The young man from Alric paused, taking it all in.

‘Alexander Roth’.

Just over three years ago, that was the name of a simple, orphaned baker’s assistant from a tiny town in a backwater realm. Now? Now that name belonged to an archwizard graduating from the most prestigious school of wizardry in the entire world.

And that name was printed in golden letters of pure magic.

‘I hope you can see me now, mother and father,’ he thought, taking his seat—the seat bearing hisname—among the other graduates. ‘And I hope you’re proud of me.’

Alex greeted his neighbours, most of whom he’d only seen in passing before. The graduating students’ chairs were arranged in alphabetical order, by surname, and so he—unfortunately—was not near Rhea, Malcolm, Shiani, Nua-Oge or Isolde.

Shifting in her chair, the young noblewoman was in the last row, and Alex only had a quick moment to exchange a nervous nod with her before Baelin cleared his throat.

The ancient archwizard raised his hands as all eyes fell on him at the podium.

“It is with the highest honour that I guide this ceremony celebrating this years’ graduation of new wizards. Wizards of power. Education. Poise. Majesty.” He leaned forward, his goat-like eyes glittering. The chancellor’s symbol—the one on Baelin’s charm-pendants—was sewn into his robe. “Proper wizards.”

Alex smiled at that.

The young archwizard—and the other members of the Art of the Wizard in Combat—fished their charm-pendants from their robes.

The chancellor noticed.

He definitely looked pleased.

Baelin leaned forward. “Now, this is the part where you might think ‘oh no, the old goat is about to prattle on’. But fortunately, for each of you, I will not be launching into an endless speech. I will simply thank our graduates for journeying with us these past three to four years, but—if there is any one thing that I hope you will walk away with, it is that while you all may now command great power, you are not the only ones in the world who do. Threats lurk around every corner, jealous and hungry for your strength and commensurate wealth. So, please remember, if at any time you require aid in the form of guidance, insight, or advice, do not hesitate to approach us. You are a member of the alumni of Generasi now, and as such, you shall never be truly alone, if you do not choose to be.”

He clapped, rubbing his hands together. “So do not be afraid to reach out, just as I hope you will not be afraid to open up your coin purses and vaults when it comes time for annual donations.”

He grinned, and the graduates chuckled, uncomfortably.

“Hah! You should see your expressions! I make that little joke every year, and I still love the fear that goes across every face!” The chancellor rose up to his full height. “In the end, you graduates shall be this university’s shooting stars! You have flown above us, bright and beautiful, and now you pass us by, almost as quickly as you came. You are flying off beyond the horizon: we were only able to gaze on your brilliance for a moment, but you will stay in our minds and our hearts forever. As I hope we shall stay in yours. Thank you all.”

The audience burst into rousing applause, with many whooping and cheering. Every graduate was on their feet, proud of themselves and their school, while Alex looked around, hearing Claygon repeatedly chanting, ‘father’ over the crowd. Baelin smiled at the response and raised his hands, waving at Hobb, inviting him to join him at the podium. “With such enthusiasm, we’d dare not delay any longer, so with no further ado, we will present the well earned degrees to this year's graduating class. Your names will be called alphabetically by surname. And after every new graduate has received their degree, as our final order of business, we will receive the valediction honouring our graduates and bidding them a fond farewell. The title of valedictorian is awarded to the most academically accomplished student—in all four years of study—who has also contributed to the university outside of academics. That person will receive a gold medal in recognition of their achievement. I invite you all to look forward to their speech! But that will be for later: for now, graduates, please prepare, it’s time to claim your reward!”

Baelin waved his hand, and the sky shimmered above the stage.

At first, there came only the whisper of a rising wind.

Then the air began to sing an otherworldly melody; its lyrics—in many planar tongues—were dedicated to the graduating class of Generasi.

To bright futures. To better tomorrows. To endless opportunities.

Hobb snapped his fingers, conjuring twenty-nine plates of pure electrum, and one gold medal. “If all of the graduates would please line up at the stairs in alphabetical order. Staff members will be on hand to aid you.” The devil gestured to steps on the left hand side of the stage. “Once you are in line, you will be called by name to receive your degree. After receiving it, you are then to descend the staircase to the right to make room for the next graduate.”

“Here we go,” Alex said, his heart thundering in his chest.

As the graduates moved to form a line, he exchanged looks with Nua-Oge, Shiani, Malcolm, Rhea and—of course—Isolde.

To his cabal member, he gave an encouraging thumbs up.

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She was trembling, but returned a weak smile.

‘You can do it,’ he mouthed to her.

‘Thank you,’ she mouthed back.

He turned, looking back to the podium as the chancellor nodded. “You are all assembled. So, let us begin.”

The air’s song swelled, amplifying the melody.

It was time for the graduates to claim their prizes.

“First, I call Ansalon Andari!” Baelin announced.

A lean young man at the front of the line flinched, then quickly climbed the stairs. He paused for a moment, looking over the graduating class, the guests and the endless sky, then walked across the stage.

“Ansalon Andari, you have now graduated, and are awarded your degree,” Baelin said.

Registrar Hobb delicately plucked one of the electrum tablets from the air, handing it over.

The young student’s grin could have lit up a moonless night. He bowed his head. “Thank you, thank you so much!”

“Congratulations.” Baelin patted him on the shoulder. “May your path through magic—wherever it might lead—continue to be under endless light and open skies.”

The young man bowed again before stepping off the stage, descending the stairs to the right to be directed to his seat. Baelin then called the next student, and the next. Over time, the line grew shorter.

Upon recommendation of the Faculty confers upon:

Alexander Roth,

Having fulfilled the requirements of the degree in Wizardry with all its rights, privileges and obligations.

Below it was Chancellor Baelin’s signature, along with that of Registrar Hobb.

Alex’s hands were shaking.

He’d done it.

When he was marked by Uldar, he hadn’t given up. When his spellcraft was taken from him, he’d found ways to adapt. When he and his family were set upon by monsters, they overcame them to journey to Generasi. He’d overcome most challenges at the university. Even when he’d left to battle the hidden church and find Kelda’s sanctum, he’d overcome those too...and this moment was his prize.

This was the proof that Uldar, the priesthood and all others had not stopped him from achieving his dream. A dream that had formed while his parents still lived, telling him stories of legendary wizards.

He sniffled, trying to hold back his emotions.

Then he lowered his head to Baelin and Hobb.

The crowd cheered.

The song above him swelled.

He knew then that he would never forget this moment, not even if he lived to be as old as Baelin. The young archwizard—the General of Thameland—continued walking on, clutching his degree close.

He glanced at the faculty as he passed them.

Professor Val’Rok was wiping tears from his eyes, blowing his snout in a handkerchief. He waved at Alex and gave him a thumbs up.

Professor Ram watched him closely, giving him a stoic nod.

Professor Mangal smiled sweetly, mouthing ‘congratulations’ to him.

Professor Salinger simply clapped, giving Alex a warm smile.

Then...there was Professor Jules.

The prickly head of the faculty department of Alchemy was crying—full on crying—beside Val’Rok and wiping her nose with a butterfly embroidered handkerchief.

“Congratulations...Mr. Roth,” she whispered her choked good wishes as he passed by.

“Thank you,” he whispered back, then descended the stairs to join the others.

He looked up at the stands.

His family was crying and cheering. Khalik and Thundar were hugging each other and giving him double thumbs ups. Cedric was whooping.

Theresa’s smile was brilliant as she called Alex’s name. Selina cheered.

Alex lowered his head to them as he returned to his seat.

And he allowed himself to soak in the moment.

He’d done it. He’d truly done it. There would be other trials in his life—one great one loomed ahead—but this trial was over, and he had won.

On the stage, Baelin continued to call names.

“Rhea Talmenar!” the chancellor said.

The tall elven woman ascended the stage with grace, gliding to the ancient archwizard.

“Rhea Talemnar, you have graduated with distinction, and are awarded your degree,” the chancellor said. “Most magnificent.”

The elf fire mage gracefully bowed, gliding across the stage and returning to the seated line of graduates.

After Rhea, Baelin called another familiar name. “Malcolm Thrimson!”

The ice mage, one of the last few in line, hurried up the stairs and crossed the stage.

“Malcolm Thrimson, you have graduated with distinction, and are awarded your degree,” the chancellor said. “Well done, lad.”

Malcolm grinned at the electrum tablet, then turned toward the audience, holding the degree above his head as though it was a captured flag, won on the battlefield.

Alex whooped, as did much of the graduating class.

Rhea rolled her eyes as Malcolm descended to join the rest of them.

A few more names were called, until finally...there was only one person remaining, waiting to ascend the stage.

Isolde stood alone, looking as nervous as a kitten in a lightning and thunderstorm.

“And now, I call the final member of this year’s graduating class,” Baelin announced. “She is also our valedictorian for this graduating year! Isolde von Anmut!”