The light cast by the Magic Crystal Chandelier softly filled the entire cramped private room.
Ronan sat around a long table with the others. Decorative candles and flowers adorned it, along with all manner of beautiful, lavish dishes.
As everyone enjoyed this rare feast, they listened to the ruddy-faced Wizard Barry speak with his wineglass raised high.
"He said, Sean, if your aptitude for wizardry were even half as outstanding as your talent in Magic Potion Studies—no, even a quarter of it!
"You would be far more than just a mere Level Two Apprentice by now."
"Those were his exact words! I heard every single one of them clearly!"
Barry drained the wine in his glass in one gulp, the pride and delight between his brows nearly overflowing.
"Sean, my dear son, I'm proud of you. I always said that one day, you would shine brilliantly in Potionology."
Clearly somewhat drunk, Barry kissed Sean on the forehead. Sean, forcibly pulled into his embrace, looked utterly awkward and embarrassed as he struggled without pause.
Ronan sat diagonally across from Barry, with Jacob on his left and Sheryl on his right.
He slowly put a piece of crisp, roasted lamb chop into his mouth, a complicated feeling welling up within him.
It was no wonder that the usually worldly Barry was so ecstatic. The main thing was... what had happened to Sean really was rather legendary.
The story went roughly like this: through his uncle's connections, Barry had found Sean a job as a potion maker's apprentice at a magic potion shop in Dwarf Market.
By chance, the shop's Chief Potion Master—a formal wizard-level powerhouse—had seen some strange potions Sean had concocted in his spare time, things akin to Sleepy Potion, and found them greatly intriguing.
After summoning Sean for an assessment,