Cill, the very girl whose words had pursued the mediora sage Toma, sat quietly in her study, grading papers and skimming through some documents. Most students did terribly, not a comprehensive thought put to ink. Instead, they regurgitated whatever their teachers were feeding them like sheep.
There was a time when to be a student of a sage, you had to master the ability to soak up knowledge like a sponge and put it into practice in a way that nobody else but that very person could have come up with. An identity, that's what was lacking in the current-day roundtable mages and knights. Lifted to their ranks for no more than a family name, the student and even the minora sages were nothing but puppets to the upper sages.
