Jean Otus
Would-Be Prince
Vienna, 1909
The seat of the Austro-Hungarian Empire
The clacking of chalk against the slate board filled the classroom, the sharp sounds reverberating off the wood panels and desks. The soft light of early morning streamed in through the large glass windows, revealing the motes of dust created by the writing as they streamed down from the board, were caught by a draft, and scattered throughout the room in an imperceptible layer. At the front of the room, writing on the board was a gentleman who had just left his youthful years, the red in his auburn hair had given way to a more subdued brown in his thirty-second year. This hair was swept back over his head with the aid of some hair oil and a judicious comb. Similarly, the beard and mustache which occupied the lower half of his face were carefully groomed. The ends of his mustache were delicately curled in perfect symmetry, with manicured tips as sharp as pins. His mode of dress was as sharp as his hair, with a bright white shirt and black silk tie under a gray waistcoat. Below this was a pair of brown riding breeches and a set of boots to match. This mix of soldier and scholar was a common aesthetic of the academy. There the mages were allowed to mix their official military garb with civilian clothes. Their unique status amongst the great minds and officers of the empire afforded them that much. This privilege was not unlike that of other mages across the world.
Ever since the magical renaissance following the cynicism of the enlightenment and industrial revolutions, the great powers of the world have raced to integrate the craft into war and politics. As such, practitioners from around the globe were offered the chance for social advancement in the greatest cities of Europe, the Americas, and Asia. In return for their loyalty, these mages were granted titles of nobility, land, money, and the ear of important governing figures. It has not all been a life in the lap of luxury though. Loyalty to a great power meant functioning as a tool of the state. War, diplomacy, intrigue, all became influenced by the presence of magic. As a consequence, the practitioners of magic found themselves at the whim of every minister, king, president, and emperor.
Yet, in spite of this, it was a way to advance, a way to escape poverty, enough so that young people from all corners of the world with magical potential would travel to the centers of power to earn their spot in the peerage of mages. To better cultivate this talent, the great powers established academies for these mages to learn the most useful types of magic practiced in the career they are working towards. It is in one of these academies that we find ourselves, in a class full of bright young mages vying to join the ranks of the imperial mages of Austria-Hungary and their affiliated kingdoms and principalities. At the head of the class stands the sharp-looking professor, who has just finished inscribing the lesson plan for this first day at the academy. As he turns around he can see the students from across the world who gathered in this austere old capital of a great, multinational empire to learn from him.
"Good day class, my name is Doctor Farkas." He introduces himself, his Hungarian accent softening the final sound of his name to a gentle shh. "I will be your instructor this semester, I look forward to teaching you all. If you all would introduce yourselves to the class, we can begin our first lesson."
The seat of the Austro-Hungarian Empire
The clacking of chalk against the slate board filled the classroom, the sharp sounds reverberating off the wood panels and desks. The soft light of early morning streamed in through the large glass windows, revealing the motes of dust created by the writing as they streamed down from the board, were caught by a draft, and scattered throughout the room in an imperceptible layer. At the front of the room, writing on the board was a gentleman who had just left his youthful years, the red in his auburn hair had given way to a more subdued brown in his thirty-second year. This hair was swept back over his head with the aid of some hair oil and a judicious comb. Similarly, the beard and mustache which occupied the lower half of his face were carefully groomed. The ends of his mustache were delicately curled in perfect symmetry, with manicured tips as sharp as pins. His mode of dress was as sharp as his hair, with a bright white shirt and black silk tie under a gray waistcoat. Below this was a pair of brown riding breeches and a set of boots to match. This mix of soldier and scholar was a common aesthetic of the academy. There the mages were allowed to mix their official military garb with civilian clothes. Their unique status amongst the great minds and officers of the empire afforded them that much. This privilege was not unlike that of other mages across the world.
Ever since the magical renaissance following the cynicism of the enlightenment and industrial revolutions, the great powers of the world have raced to integrate the craft into war and politics. As such, practitioners from around the globe were offered the chance for social advancement in the greatest cities of Europe, the Americas, and Asia. In return for their loyalty, these mages were granted titles of nobility, land, money, and the ear of important governing figures. It has not all been a life in the lap of luxury though. Loyalty to a great power meant functioning as a tool of the state. War, diplomacy, intrigue, all became influenced by the presence of magic. As a consequence, the practitioners of magic found themselves at the whim of every minister, king, president, and emperor.
Yet, in spite of this, it was a way to advance, a way to escape poverty, enough so that young people from all corners of the world with magical potential would travel to the centers of power to earn their spot in the peerage of mages. To better cultivate this talent, the great powers established academies for these mages to learn the most useful types of magic practiced in the career they are working towards. It is in one of these academies that we find ourselves, in a class full of bright young mages vying to join the ranks of the imperial mages of Austria-Hungary and their affiliated kingdoms and principalities. At the head of the class stands the sharp-looking professor, who has just finished inscribing the lesson plan for this first day at the academy. As he turns around he can see the students from across the world who gathered in this austere old capital of a great, multinational empire to learn from him.
"Good day class, my name is Doctor Farkas." He introduces himself, his Hungarian accent softening the final sound of his name to a gentle shh. "I will be your instructor this semester, I look forward to teaching you all. If you all would introduce yourselves to the class, we can begin our first lesson."
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