Breaking an Empire by James Tallett Page B

had fallen. As with all boys of ten, he had regretted leaving home, and cried a good deal in those first few months, for many of the boys were sad, and the teachers appeared stern and unyielding after a childhood that had been infused with familial closeness. Still, it was one thing to be turned down by the mages, but another entirely to turn them down, and thus Tarranau had gone to the school, even if it had nearly bankrupted his parents in the first few years, for mussel farming was not the most profitable of occupations, even if it always put food on the table.
    Now, Tarranau was eighteen and nearing the end of his time in the school, with less than a year remaining under the tutelage of the teachers. By this time, he paid for his own learning, through jobs that the mages gave to him, and by working on the docks. Students were encouraged in that regard, for it was felt by the guild mages that it helped young mages acquire an understanding of the life they would be living. So it was a common sight to see apprentice mages down on the docks in the early morning before the boats set out, or during the evenings as the boats returned and the bustle of unloading and repairing for the morrow began again.
    This evening, it was that hustle and bustle that drifted up to Tarranau as he made his way back into the city, along with salty comments and bantered insults. The path ran down a sloping hillside into the outskirts of Tregonethra, where a few spread-out houses slowly gave way to more and more packed-in buildings, the wooden structures growing taller as they crept towards the city centre, where many stretched into the sky, four stories tall. Tarranau’s destination was the one walled area of the city, placed close to the sea shore, but far enough round from the main area of the harbour that it did not take up land that would be valued for commercial purposes. Here was the school of the watermage guild, marked off as its own little community inside of the larger populace of Tregonethra, and it was into the largest of the halls within the compound, the dormitory, that Tarranau ventured.
    Tarranau went up the stairs to the second floor, heading towards his room. Walking along the long corridor, he passed a multitude of doors, each hiding a single small chamber, complete with bedding and a desk, the cause of crooked backs as students poured over texts by the light of a candle. Tarranau’s space was further along, down where the corridor went off at an angle, allowing the rooms in this small area of the dormitory to have a view out over the sea. His status as one with under a year to graduation had earned him this pleasant view out across the waters of the harbour, from which he could see those cliffs upon which he had been perched so recently, away off to the left. The vantage point was designed by the teachers to prompt thought of what comes after school, showing the harbour in which the graduates would spend many years working, and the sea that was the lifeblood of Tregonethra. Tarranau, however, was a young man, and not often given to the kind of introspection that the view was supposed to inspire, although from a sunny spot on the cliffs he would often spend hours trying to answer some of the great philosophical questions, including “What does come next for me?”.
    Chuckling at the futility of trying to answer that question, the young apprentice changed from his dirt and dust covered clothes into his formal student’s robes, required for all school related activities during the day, including meals and time spent in class or with a professor, although that latter requirement was oft waived by the more lenient teachers. Dressed in clothes that were appropriate, if showing signs of being put on hastily and with little regard for decorum, Tarranau jogged down the stairs at his end of the building and through the compound towards the dining hall, his dirty blonde hair bouncing as he ran. He’d left it late again, and the bell