The scruffy farm boy allowed himself a half hidden sigh as he followed Jachym into the back of his homeand into the bewildering clutter of his laboratory. None of it made sense, but it looked expensive. Much like the Magen's robe - now that was power! And to think. One day he, Arran son Ulrin, would wear one just like it. And own a expensive house like this. No more mucking out the barn, or spending all morning milking in the shed.<br/><br/>Arran allowed himself a small smile, which he quickly covered up as the green-clad magician spun round and gestured to the wooden stool  in the middle of the floor and ordered him to sit on it. Arran obeyed quickly, as he was keen to see what his next lesson would be.<br/><br/>All he had done yesterday summon heat around his body. Hah! All he had done! That in itself was fairly impressive to the young man. He could already think of ways to show off with it way beyond rubbing girls' shoulders. There'd also been some lecturing on mana and the nature of magic - and an oath to swear. Master and apprentice. Not that Arran had paid much attention. He been rehearsing his dramatic exit from the family farm - and his glorious return.<br/><br/>So, when Jachym spoke about his condition, the young man frowned, but kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to seem the fool on his second day - and he doubted he was expected to remember everything immediately. He hoped.