Académie Royale de l'Arcane

Círdan walked into the main entrance hall, a hooded cloak wrapped up and around his head, so that little was left visible but his blue, glowing eyes. As he strode through the hall, any particularly perceptive students would have noticed a strange... energy exuding from him - not quite malevolent, but by no means benevolent. It just felt... dispassionate, and cold. Once he reached the end of the hall he turned, sweeping it with a gaze while he awaited some form of official representation to greet him

Cìrdan's glowing eyes rolled over the Acting Arch Magus slowly, not making a judgement upon her, not taking a distaste to her, just... observing. "I believe your academy is in the process of hiring educators for your students, is it not? My name is... Cìrdan. I am here to at least somewhat alleviate those requirements." His voice curled lazily out of the deep shadows under the peak of his hood, a deep, smooth sound, like most of the man's attributes. Smooth. Rolling. He offered no further introduction or comment upon his qualifications.

"I can teach a wide range of subjects. My preferred ones are advanced aggressive magic, warding magic, runic inscriptions, and enhancement of magical spells through extensions. I also have... other... specialities, but I imagine they would not be necessary here."

He blinks, and Matrisse might notice it was the first time he had blinked since he'd arrived. She might also notice the tracks down the side of his face that matched the trails of tears but wider, glowing the same colour as his eyes, but dimmer.

"As for qualifications, I have no papers or notes to prove my worthiness. The only way I could demonstrate that would be an exhibition in an applied sense. I will oblige, fi that is your wish."

The very first thing Círdan does is take the kettle and flip it over, carving two spiralling runes into it with a small, sharp knife he had retrieved from his pocket. These would cause water to automatically fill the kettle if anyone ever placed their hand on the handle.

Next, he scored a long, sharp, jagged line into the handle. This would serve two purposes - firstly, to heat the water, and secondly, to temporarily bind the life essence of the holder to it, using their innate power to fuel the rune processes. Normally, he wouldn't do that p, but he figured people attending a prestigious magical academy would be able to handle it.

He then inscribed a curling pattern along the metal of the kettle. This would serve to register the holder's wishes and would sweeten, heat, or milk their coffee as required. He went around the staff lounge, engraving matching runes on the sugar jar and refrigerator, so that sugar and milk would be pulled into the kettle.

He set it down on the counter, offering it to Matrisse to try.

Matrisse takes the kettle and picks it up. Water sloshes inside as she lifts the kettle, and steam begins to rise. As she pours it into her mug, the rich smell of fine Atlanticus coffee fills the room. She lifts the mug to her lips and takes a delicate sip, eyes widening as she tastes the coffee exactly as she likes it.

"Well now! It seems that you're very skilled at what you do. You're in! You've passed the test. Now, we just have the small manner of the a contract."

Reaching into a coat pocket, she pulls out a blank sheet of paper. A pen appears out of thin air and begins writing up a contract on it s own.

"Your payment will be the standard teacher's fee of 100 gold per month of classes taught. You will be expected to be starting classes in three weeks. Sign here."

The paper and pen float over to Cirdan, and jiggle enticingly in the air.

Brain is brought back to reality as soon as the janitor speaks, slightly startled by the sudden outpour of sound. "...Sorry, my good sir, you caught me off guard."

He considers the words the man with bushy moustache said. "You see, I would like nothing more than to learn the magical arts, but I am afraid I may not have the... Finances required to study in such a prestigious intitution. Nor am I of any political importance, if you catch my drift."

"...Really? That... Sounds perfect! Thank you, thank you!" Brian eagerly grabs the broom, although he is distracted by thinking ahead as he wonders how much could he learn from the Academy.

He had achieved his goal of finding tutelage on the mystical arts. It was not exactly as he had hoped, but it would do. Certainly, it would do.

"Excellent, excellent."

The janitor pats Brian on the head.

"Say, sonny. What's your name? I'm Mr. Balai. You'll be helping me with the cleaning and dusting around here, and you'll have plenty of opportunities to watch the classes and look through the old books. Come along."

He leads Brian inside, through the campus, and into a small and crowded room. It contains a couch, a folding bed, a small stove, a bookshelf, a desk, and several stacks of cleaning supplies. It smells vaguely of soap.

"Here you go! This is my room. You can sleep on the couch. Say...what sort of experience do you have in the cleaning business?"

"My name is Brian Poe, Mr. Balai. Former barren-lander. Thank you again for the chance." As Brian followed the janitor, he had the opportunity to admire the structure from within. A unique chance, most certainly.

When they arrived to the janitor's room Brian let the small bag with his belongings on the couch that would be his bed from today onwards. For the most part those were a small bag containing only the few pieces of gold and silver he had remaining and a set of spare clothes indistinct from his current ones.

"As for experience... Well, I used to live alone and clean my own house and clothes. Although I must confess that was rather a tiny effort when compared to the Academy."