Sagittarius

The tale-

"I'm leaving," she said, standing at the doorway with her bag in hand. "You're going to get yourself killed, doing what you're doing. I don't want to be part of it. So, goodbye, Sagittarius. I'll see you in hell." He laughed. "Cheap whore! Get out! I never want to see you again!" He took a long pull from a wineskin, draining it, and threw it at her, but she had already gone, and the wineskin bounced off the door. He rolled over and went back to sleep.

Three hours later, his door burst open and the Cedrist High Priest, Bagratouni, roared, "Sagittarius! Get up! There is work to do!" Sagittarius responded by throwing his shoe at him.

Bagratouni roared in fury, grabbed Sagittarius by the collar, and threw him outside. "Fool! Do not test my patience!" Sagittarius only shrugged in response, stood, and ambled back to the doorway. "Priest of Lacrymosa, I strip you of your title! Get out of my Church!" Bagratouni cried and kicked Sagittarius.

Twenty minues later, Sagittarius and his meager belongings lay on the front step of the Temple. With nothing to him, he had one place to turn to, an institution that held the government in its' gilded grip: the Ly'Technomaezji.

Perhaps it was the hangover, or perhaps it was just his general state of mind, but the walk to the Mage's University on the other side of town seemed to take forever. The usual spring in his step was gone. And he couldn't help but think, "I lived my life too excessively for even the god of imbalance, and now he has abandoned me." His loss of faith cemented by the time he started his way up the stairs, a different Sagittarius became visible, a Sagittarius who was angry and hurt and shamed.

Despite his life of debauchery, Sagittarius was far from a weak man. And so it was not just with great fury but great strength that he pushed open the doors to the University, throwing them against their hinges with a violence that bordered on destruction. But the hinges held, and Sagittarius stood in the doorway, a glowing corona surrounding him, cast by the late afternoon sun.

A frail man, in his late sixties, bald and with glasses, looked up, obviously unimpressed. "May I help you sir?"

"I wish to enroll."

The man at the desk--Mastaci, according to his placard--gave him a disparaging look and turned back to his paperwork, saying, "I'm sorry, sir, but you don't appear to meet certain...requirements for enrollment in our institution."

Sagittarius stood openmouthed. "I can meet any fiscal requirement you desire."

Mastaci looked up again. "I was referring to your intelligence, but your use of the word 'fiscal' has given me cause to rethink my first impression. Have you had a classical education?"

"Only from the best," replied Sagittarius, stepping up to the desk.

"Church-provided."

"Oh? Which god did you train under?"

"The Church of Lacrymosa educated me, good sir."

"Lacrymosa, you say? Well, well, well, we don't get many of you around these parts. What's led you to convert?"

Sagittarius sighed. "They threw me out."

"The Lacrymosans threw you out? For what, lack of compulsive gambling habits?"

"No."

Mastaci awaited an explanation, but got none. Seeing that Sagittarius would not speak further, he continued, "Well, my boy, you seem intelligent, certainly have the funds if you're Lacrymosan...now you've just got to pass the test."

"Test?"

"Yes. Test. Pretty basic magical trials. No one will tell you how you do, but you'll know if you pass."

"How's that?"

"Well, the first indicator of you passing is that you're still alive."

He paused for effect. "Now, I understand you'll need to think--"

"I'll do it."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said, I'll do it."

"Good to see you're decisive, and your memory's in working order. Do you know what you're getting into, son?"

"No, not really."

"Honesty is a virtue, but only when applied with prudence. Now, hold still."

Mastaci pushed his glasses up his nose and pointed a finger at Sagittarius. Sagittarius tried to speak, but found he couldn't move. Mastaci put his hand down, and Sagittarius felt himself regain control of his muscles.

"Magically responsive. Good. That's to be expected of one who was a priest. And your reflexes?" Mastaci's hand snapped back up, flames jetting forwards. Sagittarius moved to the side, the fire brushing by him. "A healthy sense of survival. Terrific." Mastaci took some notes, then began holding up pieces of parchment with mystical designs on them. "Tell me your best approximation of what this means."

"Fire. West. Dragon. Wind. Castle. Three. Passion. Triangle. Sweet."

"Good ability to make things up on the fly, recognition of a few minor signs a plus. Tell me, have you read Sorto? Regia? Lixian? Wylthae?"

Mastaci received nods on all four. "Hacks, all of them. How about Sckithe? Rena? Berginyon?" Three shakes of the head. "Good for you. Keeps your mind clean of all that pesky ethics stuff."

Mastaci paused. "One final test." He drew two cups out of his desk and poured from a wineskin into both. He mumbled, then bridged his fingers.

"Tell me, Sagittarius, which one has the poison?"

Sagittarius picked up the first cup, sniffed it, put it down. Smelled like wine. The other held, apparently, water. "My liver will tell you that the wine has the poison in it it, but something about that water doesn't seem right." He picked up the wine and downed it.

"A good choice, my son. Welcome to the University." Mastaci reached across the table to shake his hand. Sagittarius shook it firmly, then felt electricity course up his arm. "Your first lesson, son, is to not trust anyone," Sagittarius heard Mastaci say as he lost consciousness.