"What is the difference between an Elementalist and a Diabolist?" Master Artheus inquired, his question slapping Malcador like a whip. The apprentice had just made it up the immeasurably long, winding stairway to bring the newly fashioned lens to the observatory. The Celestial Colleges were known to be the most strict in the entirety of all the Colleges of Magic. There were many reasons and rationalizations, but Malcador could only speak for his own master. He was a strict intellectual and perfectionist, and he demanded the same of his own students. It had made Malcador one of the sharpest students in the Colleges, but it had also been utter hell to go through. 

"A Diabolist summons entities from the realm of chaos, daemons, to do their bidding." Malcador said with bated breath, refitting the lens with deft twists of his fingers as Artheus grilled him. The older wizard, black haired with sweeps of silver along his sideburns and goatee, turned from his morning bookkeeping to stare at Malcador. "It is forbidden by Imperial Decree to do so unless under strict supervision by no less than three wizards of sufficient rank. An Elementalist summons Elemental spirits." 

"Are Elemental Spirits not from the realm of Chaos?" His master asked quizzically. "Why is one loosely outlawed and the other only beholden to the more mundane edicts of the magical arts?" 

"Yes and no. The magic itself is derived from where all magic comes, and the infusion is based in the realm of chaos, however the spirit is not a spirit as we otherwise might view it, such as a chaos entity or an aberration. A...A spirit in this case is the collective memory of an element, without true thought. It is essentially granting a portion of an element an artificial mockery of sentience, whilst being totally controlled by the caster. They cannot rebel or perform deeds not dictated by the summoner." He was glad he had not been out drinking. His hangover would have him cleaning gutters for a week.

"Can an Elemental be considered a familiar?" Artheus asked, crossing his legs. The room around him was tall, before curling into a dome at the precipice. The bookshelves were tidy and neat, yet the wizards large desk was a mess of papers and tomes of various arcane purpose. 

"No, master." 

"Why?" He asked quickly.

Malcador swallowed, trying to think. "Er because... because they are temporary and have no soul. A familiar needs to be an animal, whom you have spirit bonded with, or more popularly a homunculus who, um, a wizard has created and infused with a portion of their soul. The latter has grown more popular as the other method is considered antiquated, and the great mage Teclis stated that it has the potential to be corrupting in a manner."    

Master Artheus granted him a tight lipped smile, pleased. He was strict, but he did give favor when it was called for, and he knew it was Pie Week. The academic questions would last only so long, as would the errands. 

"Good, now one last question and you may be on your way, Malcador." He said warmly, though his eyes were as cold as ice. "Why did you come back last night half naked, three hours after curfew?" 

Malcador was stricken as if shocked by lightning. Had Artheus divined the reason? [i]Could[/i] he lie? No, no if Artheus had divined it, Malcador would be mocked for the act already, and then supremely punished. He had already gotten in trouble with his trysts before. It was ironic, none had been quite as delectable as Emmaline had. It would be divine punishment to have him be separated from her now of all times. No, his master could rightly guess he was out drinking, and had merely gotten too drunk to return on time. Malcador let his gaze fall to the floor, and his hands fell to his sides. "I should have confessed of my tardiness, master." He said with a sigh. "I had gone out gallivanting with the lads, and had lost my senses with strong drink." 

After a brief pause, Artheus snorted. "You truly thought I would not have noticed. You truly must have been drunk." The wizard stood up, and went to inspect the immense telescope, inspecting the contraption with a practiced eye. "You can clean lavatory for that, for a week! You shall also recite the next question and answer session in elvish, and for every word you mispronounce or misspeak, it shall add a day to your gutter cleaning duties. If it happens again, I just might think of finding another apprentice..." 

"Yes Master." Malcador remarked, bowing his head. 

"Now you can run another errand for me, and be quick about it. I am done using Master Oswald's scepter, you must deliver it back to him before noon. If your tardiness causes that delivery to be late..." He let the threat hang, before the looming consequences abated. "Then you can have some pie and leisure time."