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The Hall of Prophecy, nothing but vanity? Radaam had to wonder if Magus Dagon was alone in that opinion. He could appreciate the ideal of humility - he too was of the opinion that achievement was best enjoyed quietly, in private - but surely such monumental contributions to Photep deserved some recognition. Even if just to serve as encouragement for the lower rungs of Sorcerers, great feats of the past were important beacons for the future. Radaam assumed they served the same purpose as the legends and stories passed around the Chenzira; tales of men scaling cliffs to confer with eagles or soldiers as swift as horses alerting camps of invading threats drove his people to lay just a few more bricks or walk just a few more miles before allowing themselves to rest. Maybe the scale of self-congratulation in the Hall of Prophecy was excessive, but surely it wouldn't do for those milestones to be relegated to dusty tomes and forgotten. 

But maybe he shouldn't be so quick to judge. Magus Dagon had the wisdom of experience behind him; Radaam didn't believe that he'd make his judgements without good reason. That wisdom was on full display as the Magus launched into a speech, words of encouragement mingling with words of warning for the nervous and arrogant alike. But there was one line that stuck in Radaam’s head:

[i]“If at any time you feel that you cannot bear the responsibility, or you are not up to the task, you are free to hang up your white cloak and carry on your life in some other profession.”[/i]

Radaam was ashamed to admit that the prospect of hanging up his cloak and walking back out into the sunlight was sorely tempting. Despite the Magus’ efforts to be welcoming, with every passing moment in the pyramid, he could [i]feel[/i] its weight pressing down on him, a burden of history and significance he didn't feel quite worthy to bear. But how could he just get up and walk away? He couldn't imagine the Khenetai would look twice at a man who was given one of Photep’s greatest opportunities and squandered it; how could he commit to uphold the Crimson King’s peace if he rejected his favoured order? Once more he reminded himself what an honour it was to even lay eyes on the inside of this pyramid, looking down at the book the Magus had given him. Radaam had no idea what such a thing must have cost; he'd spent his days at Udebtekhat writing his notes in charcoal on whatever scraps of papyrus he could get his hands on, haphazardly sewn together with twine. This book, on the other hand, looked almost too pristine to deface, and Radaam wasn't sure what he could come up with that would be worthy of taking up its pages. 

Khaemtir’s nudge brought him out of his reverie, and while his new friend’s levity seemed a little out of place in the face of such a monumental commitment, Radaam could appreciate the sentiment behind it. He echoed as much, placing his hands resolutely on his knees and nodding through the jitter in his stomach. 

[color=437D99]“I won't waste this opportunity, Magus,”[/color] he stated, deep voice firm but otherwise unreadable. [color=437D99]“I'm sure I speak for all three of us when I say we’re eager to begin.”[/color]
[right][sub][@Dead Cruiser][@Achronum][@Crusader Lord][/sub][/right]