[center][color=8e6b23][h2]Cerrad Toh[/h2][/color][/center]
[color=gray]Cerrad began another day of work.

He attended the customers, organized rolls of fabric, jotted down orders, patched up torn clothes, lost a needle, took inventory, found a needle, updated the catalogue for the current season, attended more customers, prepared orders for supplies, got mistaken for a woman, lost the same needle again, hesitantly said a few goodbyes, closed up shop, and sighed, before his eyes darted to a corner of the store. He found the same needle again.

The members of Tembrot village ate an enormous meal once a day with as many of their kin as possible, and today Cerrad shared his daily feast with his mentor, like he had every other day for the past several years. They ate from a large wooden bowl of assorted nuts and dried fruits, before moving on to salted corn and bread. Meat was the centerpiece of every Tembrot meal, but the two barely made enough money; they’d have to skip it again.

Cerrad gingerly sipped from a bowl of tea and spoke in an annoyed tone as he had done many times before. [color=8e6b23]“The Tatteks stopped by this morning, their child tore his uniform playing with the bulls again. I even reminded him to be more careful the last time we met, can you believe that? [i]I[/i] just think that they should stop being so lenient with that sort of behavior. In a few years I bet he'll star—“[/color]

His mentor grumbled and raised his head all the way up, a sign that he was going to begin his pre-sleep nap. Sir Abiert was an old man who spoke an average of ten words a week, and the two rarely had conversations beyond Cerrad listing off the orders that needed to be finished for the day. Cerrad swallowed his words, relaxed, and stood up with their bowls now that dinner was unceremoniously over. [color=8e6b23]“May I go outside to practice?”[/color] He said, in a gentler tone than usual, [color=8e6b23]“I’ve recently reduced the number of coils that need to be created in order for a successful summon of my familiar, which will undoubtedly hel—“[/color]

[color=brown]“Go ahead.”[/color] The old man grumbled.

[hr]
Cerrad had finished his explanation for the letter in his hand after a long and painstakingly detailed account of what had happened when he stepped foot outside, with bits on his childhood and the importance of magic peppered in for good measure. He ended it by glaring for the first time in his life at his mentor, hoping that he would reject the letter and point out how stupid it was. 

[color=brown]“Go ahead.”[/color] The old man grumbled. Again.
 
[hr]
The young earth mage sat on the floor with a pair of scissors in his shaking hands. Part of him was excited at finally being a talented magician, yet another part of him refused to believe that angel-women falling from the sky distributing magic pamphlets was a suitable form of recruitment. His plan was to snip the corner of the letter, pretend that nothing happened, and continue with his life, even if the letter addressed to his family and the packed bags around him told a different story. He cut a sliver of paper and shut his eyes as hard as he could.[/color]