1. Tell us a little about yourself—name, profession, home, family, the usual.
To begin, let me apologize for crossing the disputed borders, which I certainly had no intention of doing. On my map, at least, I was well within acceptable limits, though I realize that this map is…ah, a few decades old, and we’ve changed hands once or twice since then. I was merely on my way to Cinquefoil to visit an old friend when the patrol found me. I can assure you, I had no intention of practicing magic or exerting my foul enchantments on anyone connected to the Royal Family. I can offer numerous references on my behalf–Prince Harold, future king of the Realm, he knows me intimately! I beg you…
Very well, I understand, I should answer the questions. My name is Turold the Magnificent (a title bestowed upon me, rather than the reverse, I assure you), a Magician of the Fifth Circle, apprenticed under no less a Conjurer than Hildigrim Blackbeard. You’ve never heard of him? I’m not surprised…they’ve blackened his name and erased him from the history books. As you can see, I’m not the most imposing fellow, which necessitated my study of magic: at 4’2, I wasn’t exactly going to be Hercules reborn. My homeland has been conquered and re-conquered so many times it no longer has a name I’m familiar with nor a location I can comfortably point to. Suffice to say, my mother tongue isn’t familiar to anyone in this room, and after all these years, I’m not confident I could speak it myself. I have no family to speak of, though I’m always on the look-out for a capable apprentice, since magic, unless passed on, is little more than a fairy tale. A sad state of affairs, but that’s the reason our order is so diminished in number, especially after the Unspeakable Laws. Not that I’m criticizing Her Majesty’s decrees, mind you.
2. How did you end up in this crazy adventure the novel talks about?
Ha, so you’ve heard about that? Another innocent misunderstanding, naturally. I was hired to create a tapestry for one of the Queen’s relatives using the most durable materials on earth–starlight and spellcraft–so it would last a thousand years. Well, maybe only three hundred, but who would be around to notice? So I created a lurid melodrama about the family’s history, with battles, horses, canons, the works. The only problem was that I succumbed to a certain weakness I have for signing my name, if you will: I included a small portrait of myself in a forgettable portion of the panel. Honestly, no one would see it. Except for a certain inquisitive four-year old, that is. He spotted me at once and pointed me out to all and sundry. They arrested me on the spot and if not for the interest of Prince Harold, I would have been languishing there still–or worse, been sent to the frigid Northern Colonies. Incidentally, the portrait is still hanging in their home; try as they might, they couldn’t destroy it. Take about ten paces to the right and look very low and you’ll see me: a small man riding a horse with a banner over his head reading “Turold.” Heh, it still makes me laugh.
3. Do you think the official account of your adventures is accurate, flattering, and/or useful to the general public?
Oh, you mean that novel? Naturally I don’t read such things…my time is quite taken up with spell craft and traveling, as you can see. However, from what I’ve heard, the account is quite accurate, though I wish it had somewhat lessened my role in the story. Especially that business in Chapter 5. Quite upsetting, and not exactly what one would expect of a responsible Conjurer-Magician. However, if one wants to read about the nature of love, the cost of regret, and the follies of human nature, there are certainly worse ways to spend one’s evenings. I should, however, commend the scribe on his depiction of Dimitri, that two-faced rogue. You know he speaks Yazik, right? He spoke it the whole time, the blackguard, and never said a word to me. Just chattered away in his pidgin Yazik. Only speaks Russian indeed!
So I can go now? Splendid. Again, my deepest apologies, I’m off straight to Cinquefoil. Gentlemen, good evening! Oh, what’s that? Cinquefoil is that way? Hmm…wretched map, must have everything turned around. Thanks for clearing that up. Truly. Again, good night.
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