Aldric stood before the imposing facade of the Consortium's Registry Office, his stomach tight with anxiety. This was it—the moment when he would officially declare himself a mage and submit to the Consortium's authority. There was no going back after this.
The Registry Office was a smaller building adjacent to the main Consortium headquarters, but it was no less impressive. White marble columns flanked the entrance, and guards in pristine uniforms stood at attention on either side of the doors. A steady stream of people moved in and out—some in the white robes of registered mages, others in ordinary clothes like Aldric.
He took a deep breath and walked through the doors.
The interior was all polished wood and brass fixtures, with high ceilings and large windows that let in streams of sunlight. A long counter stretched across one side of the room, staffed by a dozen clerks who processed paperwork with mechanical efficiency. The air smelled of ink and parchment and the faint ozone scent of magic.
Aldric approached the nearest available clerk, a thin man with spectacles and an expression of profound boredom.
"I'm here to register as a newly attuned mage," Aldric said.
The clerk didn't look up from his papers. "Name, age, and noble house affiliation."
"Aldric Thorne, nineteen years old, House Thorne of the Borderlands."
The clerk made notes in a ledger. "Pathway?"
"Veiled Mind."
The clerk's pen paused for just a moment, then continued. "Current Tier?"
"One. Initiate."
"Date of Attunement?"
"Three days ago."
Now the clerk looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Three days ago, and you're only registering now? You're aware that the law requires registration within twenty-four hours of Attunement?"
Aldric had prepared for this question. "I was recovering from the ritual. It was... difficult. I came as soon as I was able."
The clerk studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "I suppose three days isn't too egregious. But don't let it happen again if you advance. Now, I'll need to verify your Attunement. Hold out your hand."
Aldric extended his right hand across the counter. The clerk produced a small crystal device, about the size of a coin, and pressed it against Aldric's palm. The device glowed with a soft violet light—the same color as Aldric's Pathway.
"Confirmed," the clerk said. "You are indeed attuned to the Path of the Veiled Mind, Tier 1. Now, the fees. Registration costs ten gold pieces. Annual renewal is five gold pieces. You'll also need to purchase a Weaver's Mark, which is another five gold pieces. The Mark is a tattoo that identifies you as a registered mage. It's magically enchanted and cannot be removed or forged. You'll need to have it applied before you leave today."
Aldric's heart sank. Twenty gold pieces total. That would leave him with only seven gold pieces to his name. But he had no choice. He counted out the coins and placed them on the counter.
The clerk swept them into a drawer and produced a thick stack of papers. "Sign here, here, and here. These documents confirm that you understand and agree to abide by the Consortium's regulations regarding the use of magic. Violation of these regulations can result in fines, imprisonment, or execution, depending on the severity of the offense."
Aldric read through the documents quickly. They were dense with legal language, but the gist was clear: he was forbidden from using magic to harm, coerce, or defraud others. He was required to report any illegal magical activity he witnessed. He was subject to inspection by Consortium officials at any time. And he was required to pay annual fees to maintain his registration.
It was a system designed to control mages, to keep them under the Consortium's thumb. But it was also the price of legitimacy. Without registration, he would be hunted. With it, he had at least some protection.
He signed the documents.
The clerk stamped them with a seal and filed them away. "Excellent. Now, proceed to the back room for your Weaver's Mark. Next!"
Aldric was ushered into a back room where a tired-looking woman sat at a table covered with tattooing equipment. She gestured for him to sit and roll up his left sleeve.
"First time?" she asked.
"Yes," Aldric said.
"It'll hurt, but not as much as the Attunement. Hold still."
She dipped a needle into a pot of ink that glowed with a faint magical luminescence, then began to work on Aldric's forearm. The needle stung as it pierced his skin, but she was right—it was nothing compared to the agony of the Attunement.
The tattoo took shape gradually: a stylized eye surrounded by swirling patterns, all rendered in violet ink that seemed to shimmer and shift in the light. It was beautiful and unsettling in equal measure, a permanent mark that would identify him as a mage for the rest of his life.
When she finished, she wrapped his forearm in a clean bandage. "Keep it covered for three days. Don't get it wet. It should heal without scarring. Welcome to the Registry, Initiate Thorne."
Aldric left the Registry Office with his arm throbbing and his coin purse nearly empty. But he was now officially a mage, recognized by the Consortium and protected by law. It was a significant step forward, even if it came at a steep price.
He made his way back to the Copper Bell Inn, his mind already turning to his next moves. He needed to find a way to earn money—his funds were running dangerously low. He needed to continue training with his abilities, to advance to Tier 2 as quickly as possible. And he needed to start building his network, making connections with people who could help him climb higher.
The game was becoming more complex, but Aldric had always been good at complex games.