They were, of course, in the Grand Mage's office. Tipstaff pointed out the door before hurrying off on some errand of his own, and Erskine was left feeling oddly out of place. He wasn't in the Sanctuary very often. Oh, often enough; he could handle himself. He knew most of the sorcerers who worked here. He even greeted a few of them on the way to this particular corridor, and felt an odd mix of pride and annoyance at the way most of them now treated him - like a leader. Like someone out of their reach, someone they couldn't even picture being friends with. Erskine resolved to fix that as soon as possible.
But the fact remained that he felt... oddly out of place. He was now a leader of the nation he'd grown up in. The nation he was once nothing but a lowly weaver in, not even a noble, barely a sorcerer. And a very uneducated sorcerer at that. Part of Erskine kept expecting - or perhaps hoping - someone to come up and tell him that there had been some horrible mistake.
No one did. The corridor remained empty.
Erskine allowed himself to continue feeling out of place for a minute longer, and then he pulled himself together. There would be time for more self-pity later. And later was when he would actually need it. He hesitated in front of the door, thought about knocking, then remembered he was an Elder now and he should be able to go wherever he pleased. So, with only a brief warning knock, he pushed the door open. "Morning."
Wreath was there, too, listening to a report Corrival was reading. Erskine stopped, and blinked. "I'm not late. I can't be late. This is the first day. We haven't even decided on a meeting time yet. I'm not late, am I?"
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But the fact remained that he felt... oddly out of place. He was now a leader of the nation he'd grown up in. The nation he was once nothing but a lowly weaver in, not even a noble, barely a sorcerer. And a very uneducated sorcerer at that. Part of Erskine kept expecting - or perhaps hoping - someone to come up and tell him that there had been some horrible mistake.
No one did. The corridor remained empty.
Erskine allowed himself to continue feeling out of place for a minute longer, and then he pulled himself together. There would be time for more self-pity later. And later was when he would actually need it. He hesitated in front of the door, thought about knocking, then remembered he was an Elder now and he should be able to go wherever he pleased. So, with only a brief warning knock, he pushed the door open. "Morning."
Wreath was there, too, listening to a report Corrival was reading. Erskine stopped, and blinked. "I'm not late. I can't be late. This is the first day. We haven't even decided on a meeting time yet. I'm not late, am I?"