[centre][h1]Dilei - Vale Craft Guild[/h1][/centre]

"We've got a lot of newcomers this year."

[color=Gray]The two of them were working by oil-lamp, all light from outside diminished with the setting of the sun, although there was no telling exactly what time it was. Alexandreus placed the sheaf of papers he had been flicking through onto the table and reached for a cup to his right, meticulously placed on a small saucer not unlike ones used to collect water below potted plants, and raised an eyebrow at his companion. The other lieutenant, leaning precariously back on one leg of her chair with riding boots nonchalantly atop the table to brace her unsafe position, had already abandoned her reading and was instead flicking through one of those penny dreadfuls she'd developed a taste for recently. Absently she hummed in agreement, her mane of white hair spilling down her back and chest in loose curls and stark against her dark skin and mismatched clothes of red and green.

Shaking his head in fond, if frustrated, resignation, Alexandreus sipped at his cup and then returned to his task. Out of the two of them he was the one more suited to this kind of plodding, methodical work. All of the new Mages joining their guild had been assigned rooms but now came the task of forming teams, with supervising members, out of those newcomers that would most likely work well together and that was a painstaking, lengthy task. Mirande's Flare was useful for seeking out other Powder Mages and when their enrolment came about she threw herself into their initiation with all the force of a Rynalemese storm but in this it was perhaps better than she tried [i]not[/i] to get involved, it would only make his work harder.[/color]

"There ain't that many, Alexie." [color=Gray]He looked up to see her patting the papers on the table in front of her although she still seemed to have her nose in that god-awful book. [i]The Mystery of the Blount Exorcisms[/i]. Even the title lacked imagination, never mind that many would consider setting an undoubtedly salacious story in the holy city nothing short of blasphemy. Why had the Master given Mirande one of those cursed books? Just because she would like it did not mean it was wise to give her such a mind-rotting distraction.[/color] "Just more gooduns. Not like the usual haul of half-hearters that drag themselves in."

[color=Gray]He winced, glancing toward the heavyset door to make sure that it was locked lest any of those 'half-hearters' happened to be overhear their conversation. Blessedly it was shut firm and, so late into the night, it was unlikely any would be up and about and certainly not trying to eavesdrop on their stand-in Masters. The glamour, the honour, of joining a guild and becoming an official Powder Mage would be something that would not fade from their new recruits for some time. In due course that spark of awe he saw in their eyes whenever he passed would transform into respect as they settled in and came to know that the guild's lieutenants were people, not merely the folk heroes the locals gossiped about.[/color]

"Either way," [color=Gray]he turned back to Mirande and reached across the table to take her pile of records,[/color] "there should be some interesting teams we can form." [color=Gray]Feeling a rush of air he snatched his hand back just as Mirande slapped hers down on the papers he had been reaching for, one of her orange eyes peeking out over the cheap book in her hand.[/color]

"Aye, 'we'. Done mine, Alexie and no changin' my decisions, y'hear? Get yours done quick-sharp so we can turn in, why don't ye?" [color=Gray]That glowing orb vanished again, the penny dreadful lifted up as she returned to her task, leaving Alexie to shake his head and returned to his work. Once she had turned in for the night he would have to come back and check her assignments. Mirande's approach to team assignments was a lot like her cooking: see what happened when you mix random elements in. It was both brilliant and awful in equal measure and Alexie's obsessive nature could not handle it, not while the Master was away.

It was going to be a long night.[/color]

[hr]

[centre][h1][color=8882be]Lyrel Swistral[/color][/h1][/centre]

[color=Gray]The halls of Vale Craft were silent except for the fluttering of the oil lamps along the walls, every other one still lit for the members returning late from completed jobs or leaving early for new ones. This deep into the bedrock of the cliffs there was little natural light in the halls although some of the rooms, those facing west out over the sea, had windows in them but it was mostly the higher rank members who had those quarters; newcomers slept deeper into the complex but that suited Lyrel just fine. She had known nothing but nighttime for the last few months, the light of day a sign that she should have been sleeping and preparing, and a dark room with no invading sunlight was familiar to her and that was comforting. Her days of freedom, sneaking through the night and thieving from the unjustly rich, were fond memories and she missed those times and the people who had crept along in the darkness with her.

It was not that she did not trust these people. No, her loyalty to the guild and the Master was absolute and she had been hard at work trying to prove that although the Master's absence did make her feel uneasy, as if her only benefactor had disappeared without a trace and left them with their untrustworthy family. She knew that that was not the case, that Alexie and Mirande would see to her safety just as the Master would, but some scars ran too deep to heal after just a month and the slave brand on her lower arm still itched something terrible despite Alexie's healing salves. She would need to beg another from him, even if the scarring had healed such that the brand's meaning was unreadable it still felt hot, sometimes as if that glowing hot metal was being pressed down again.[/color]

"Good morning, young one."

[color=Gray]She skirted away to the other side of the corridor on instinct as light spilled out from an open doorway, one of the older guild members standing in the arch with a harmless, amiable smile on his face. Her eyes darted to the cane in his hand, his stooped back and that relaxed posture and she found herself wondering if he had his purse on him.

[i]Stupid! You're not her anymore, this is family now![/i][/color]

"Mornin'." [color=Gray]She mumbled, trying not to run as she hurried on her way while banishing the guilt she felt at her old habits resurfacing. Today was important and she needed to be the new Lyrel, the Vale Craft Powder Mage and not the captured thief, the slave. Today, she would be assigned to a team made up from the new cohort and begin taking on jobs, serving the guild and truly leaving behind that old life.[/color]

"Off to see the illuminations?" [color=Gray]She grinned sheepishly and saw a knowing smile spread across his pale lips. Vale Craft obviously looked after its retired members or else why would there be so many old people here?[/color] "They never grow old. Not like me, at least!" 

[color=Gray]He laughed, an edge of wheezing making its way into the sound, and she smiled in as agreeable way as she could before waving an awkward farewell, fearing that he might engage her in further conversation and that was not something she felt prepared for just yet. More importantly, though, she needed to hurry or else she would miss it. Her slippered feet moved awkwardly so she kicked off the soft, comfortable but ultimately unpractical footwear and ran down the corridor toward the feasting hall, her bare feet making barely a noise as she moved. Those days as a thief, although behind her and now filled with shame mixed with joy at their mere memory, had given her skills, useful ones that she could use for the guild.

The feasting hall was a huge room, carved out from the bedrock to form a cavernous chamber filled with wooden tables and benches. The far wall, the one that protected the hall from the elements and was in fact the entrance to the guild, was pockmarked with large circular windows, their panes dyed in different colours without any apparent pattern. The room was still dim as she made her way toward the bar, barrels of ale visible along the wall behind it and a delicious aroma drifting from the closed kitchen door. Even at this time of the morning there would be a servant in there, ready to prepare a meal for those returned exhausted from their job or to see off a team with a full belly.

Behind her, up above, a raised gallery ran along the wall overlooking the entire hall. That was where the Master and her lieutenants would sit, when they were here and not too busy. She had noticed that a lot of the time they ate in their rooms, always working on something different and that gallery laid empty although it never felt that way, as if the Master's absence was never truly felt and a part of her comforting presence was always there.

None of that was why Lyrel had come so early. On her first day Mirande had told her about this, in a quiet voice as if she were imparting some important secret, and every morning since Lyrel had come to the feasting hall to watch the sunrise. The guild's entrance faced to the east and those randomly colourful windows caught its first rays, flooding the huge room with bright splendour. It was something so far removed from her days working on the docks, her nights creeping in the dark as a thief, her short life as a slave forever trapped in the dark of the rowing decks with nothing but the smell of salt, sweat and blood to accompany her.

This small thing reminded her every morning that those days were gone. She was a Powder Mage, a Mage of Vale Craft. Today she would truly become that and her chest buzzed with frantic, desperate excitement, as the guild slowly came to life. Paula, the servant on duty, brought out her usual, simple breakfast of eggs scrambled on toast with a cup of green tea, a memory of the short time she had had with her parents, and she chose a table at random. Curling her legs up underneath her, slippers on the floor below the table, she ate and watched as the light shifted through the windows, changing patterns of light swirling in the room as the sun rose further into the sky.

The new members had only been enrolled properly the day before, she practically a veteran compared to them, and assigned quarters within the guild. It would not be long before they flooded to the hall to see what their first day would bring but for that short time with only her and a scattering of veterans rising early, Lyrel enjoyed the miracle of her new life encapsulated in that shining, coloured sunlight.[/color]