The trip to Teres had been hard on Arathys Menenon. He'd spent nearly the entirety of the voyage with his head hung over the side ship of the ship, retching his guts up. As soon as they had made landfall and docked, the gang plank dropped and the voyage at its end, he'd rushed of the accused vessel as quickly as he could, and even then he'd not taken more that two steps on dry soil, than he was doubled over, retching upon the ground. Regaining his composure, he'd made his way to the Tavern, the friendliest alehouse he could lay eyes on. Now he sat alone in a dark corner booth, nursing his brandy and pondering over a certain letter.

[i]"You will find what you seek in Teres..."[/i] The letter had said. But as to the meaning of it, Arathys could not say. Leave it to Mytharion to speak in riddles. He smiled briefly as he remembered his old mentor, and the happy times he'd had as his apprentice. Those day were long gone, and now his fate was his own. [i]"You will find what you seek in Teres..." [/i] The trouble was, he didn't know what it was he was seeking. He knew not what his master was playing at, but whatever it was, he was certain that would be found in the Teresian College of Wizardry. To that end, he was determined to enroll there as a student, no doubt the library would contain the answers he sought, and no doubt a more formal education would do him some good.

As luck would have it, a student of said magical institution was at the bar even now, nursing his ale and pouring over what appeared to be research notes. Finding his courage, Arathys finished his brandy, and made his way over to where the student sat. 

"hel...Hello..." He said nervously. "Might I sit down?"