Magister-in-training or magister with all the bells and whistles doesn't much matter to Haelan. Magister's eat people. They steal babies and mash them in big pots to get the blood out of them. He's heard about Magisters.
He's not expecting to be spoken to, and the suggest words make him jump back a little, the gruel splashing about in the bucket.
The guards look over, but clearly their game is far more interesting. Besides, the Magister is securely tied up, right? They know that. Haelan knows that. It's probably fine.
"No one, Messere." The boy says, "I'm not anyone." Even tied up, he doesn't fancy letting a Vint know who he is. They can probably put some spell on you just by knowing your name.
"It's lunch, Messere. I don't know what's in it. The cooks told me to bring it down for you." He pauses, glances down, and stirs the gruel with the ladle. "I think it's got... vegetables in it?"
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He's not expecting to be spoken to, and the suggest words make him jump back a little, the gruel splashing about in the bucket.
The guards look over, but clearly their game is far more interesting. Besides, the Magister is securely tied up, right? They know that. Haelan knows that. It's probably fine.
"No one, Messere." The boy says, "I'm not anyone." Even tied up, he doesn't fancy letting a Vint know who he is. They can probably put some spell on you just by knowing your name.
"It's lunch, Messere. I don't know what's in it. The cooks told me to bring it down for you." He pauses, glances down, and stirs the gruel with the ladle. "I think it's got... vegetables in it?"