Balestrieri

Balestrieri was born a Mirror, within the Astrodome, in a plain underground little lair far beneath the noble scholars' opulent quarters above. His family were jesters by trade, something they considered to be the pinnacle of dragonkind's greatest work. "After all," his father had said more times than he could count, "who but a jester can mock the king? Who else can make him see reason?"

While Bale had to concede that his father had a point, he would absolutely rather be clobbered by falling astral debris outside than caper after a ball or balance on his front claws for the amusement of some overblown popinjay in an oversized suit. And sure, the jesters could mock them... but when the nobles went back to their huge comfy beds and Bale had to share a rude little hole with his parents and three siblings, that was some pretty cold comfort. Their hovel was prohibitively expensive, and so was keeping six hungry Mirror mouths fed.

Just before adolescence, Bale very quietly tuned his family out. He approached one of the scholarly houses and asked for a sorcerer's apprenticeship. The young dragon was promptly laughed out of the building. His response was to sneak into the scholarly libraries, often when he was supposed to be performing, and start reading anything he could get his claws on. If nobody would teach him, he'd learn on his own-- it was interesting, and he didn't have to subject himself to the leering decadence of the upper classes.

One such foray into the library, and a small dalliance into forbidden magics, ended with him opening his third eye. And his fourth. And his fifth. Sixth. Seventh. The terrified young dragon bolted home, where his family immediately turned their backs on him. If you'd taken your performances seriously, and you just behaved...

Being homeless inside the Astrodome was very very different than being poor. The Arcane flight's city of scholars did not want their image tarnished. Hostile architecture abounded, and out of desperation, Bale researched into the magic of breedchanges. He needed something less ravenous, with a thick enough hide to be able to shake off blows. Bale settled on being a Ridgeback, but halfway through the transformation, he realized he'd grossly misjudged the size of a Ridgeback his age. Everything else felt right, though.

"Impressive. I was expecting you to fail. I wouldn't do a breedchange on myself, if I was ever inclined to do one, without two other mages present. That's a finicky bit of magic."

Bale jumped, his myriad eyes flicking open and focusing on the voice. It came from a Skydancer hen, her limbs weak with extreme age, but her rheumy pink eyes revealed a mind as sharp as ever. Picking a fight with her, he knew, would be a gargantuan and lethal mistake.

"You're the little rat that's been de-alphabetizing my books." It wasn't a question. "But I've been watching which ones you pick up. You're logical. Methodical. Motivated."

Bale just watched her and said nothing while she looked him over. She could feel her magical senses reaching out and examining him. Poking. Prodding.

"I think you could solve a problem for me, young man. The Guild Council has been pressuring me to take on an apprentice. I can't stand children, I despise teaching, I prefer my own company, and I would rather throw myself into the Great Furnace than deal with another nobleman's lazy brat. But you have potential. You look like you aren't going to be a waste of my time. If I were to offer you an apprenticeship, would you waste my time, young man?"

"No ma'am," Bale replied with a small bow. "And... we have similar taste for nobles," he couldn't resist adding with a saucy grin.

"Cute," the Skydancer snarked. "I will show you to your apprentice quarters. Say your goodbyes, if you have any, and move your things in by tonight. We begin at dusk tomorrow."

---

Balestrieri was met with derision and anger by his new Master's guild, but Archmage Belladonna Shade-Bane did not pay it a bit of mind. She was in that odd sweet spot of too old to be considered current but too accomplished to dismiss outright. He learned quickly and thoroughly. Belladonna was a harsh taskmaster, but over time, she warmed to the young man she'd taken in on a whim. She didn't ever want kids of her own, but she found herself raising Balestrieri as if he were her own grandson anyway. Most of his acid tongue and bold personality comes from her.

Bale loved her as fiercely as any blood family would have. Maybe even moreso. His time on the streets had made him appreciate her love and care all the more.

She tutored him through his Journeyman studies, then his Master-level studies, and beamed with pride when he passed. But Bale could see that her body was weakening at an alarming rate, even if her spirit was willing. He had to help her get out of bed in the mornings by the time he was working on the project that would net him his Archmage classification.

"You're a good boy. You were always a good boy. Selfishly, I am glad your family abandoned you, because their idiocy meant I got to raise you," Belladonna croaked, the morning that he was to present his dissertation work to the Guild. All the feathers around her beak had gone white, and every morning these days, Bale had to carry her to the window to sun herself. She hadn't been able to fly in years.

He smoothed her feathers back. "Thank you, Master."

"I taught you everything I know a year ago, boy. When were you going to tell me I was repeating myself?"

"Do you think I would abandon you?"

"No, I suppose not. You never had the sense."

She saw him present. She saw him earn his Archmage classification. And then, her last great masterwork done, she slipped quietly into the Arcanist's service that afternoon. Peacefully, lying in the sun, with Bale's claws threading through her thinning feathers. He laid her to rest in the garden and planted a poisonous oleander over top, in lieu of a stone. She would have wanted it that way.

Bale packed the modest possessions he'd accumulated over the years, and a few of hers, and quietly left that evening. There was nothing left for him here.

---

There was always work for an Archmage anywhere, wherever he chose to settle. Balestrieri bounced around from place to place for about a year, shiftless, mourning the only family he'd ever known in the only way he knew how. The only thing that could possibly have piqued his attention was a project. A big project. A crazy one.

He'd heard of a Clan in the Southern Icefield that was building an Arcane reactor a few miles from their bunker, to generate power for all sorts of technology, luxuries, and living expenses. And they wanted an Arcane archmage to oversee it and consult. Vast amounts of magic rarely played nice with technology, but these folks seemed to know what they were doing. It was so outside his area of expertise. So outside anyone's. Balestrieri wanted in.

So, after weeks of communication, Bale went South. And the great adventure began.

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