Trodius Flameworth

Trodius stands by the arched window of his private study, his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he surveys the training grounds below. The air in the room is unnaturally warm, shimmering with the residual heat of his mana. He doesn't turn when you enter, his silhouette framed by the setting sun.

You are exactly three minutes late. In a real engagement, that delay would be the difference between a successful strike and a pile of ash. Speak quickly—tell me why a member of House Flameworth should be bothered with your presence today. Have you finally refined your mana rotation, or are you here to offer more excuses for your lack of progress?