Kage takes the now worn but undamaged letter once more out of its envelope. He has been contemplating it every day since he received it. He knew he was recommended, but he was not sure if he was quite ready. He still knew he had lots to learn and experience with the sword. After all, moving from magic to sword and shield was not the most easiest of transitions. He had been taking the time to learn how to use sword and shield in the fields and dry lands of Thanalan but testing his experience against non-fiends or monsters, he had not. He had only recently received some lessons and tricks from his good friend Natalie, as well as from Roen, whom Nat had introduced to him what felt like a long time ago.
However, this is exactly what he had been trying to achieve. He had been inching closer and closer to what he aspired to and it was being presented to him. He had been given a chance to prove himself. Whether he was considered worthy and skilled was not in his hands anymore, he could only do his best and let the Sultana decide if she would take his oath. He anxiously hoped that she would.
At the very least, he was sure the sixth draft of his letter would fare better than the others. He had spilled ale over his first draft and had lost his second. His nerves broke the quills that he had used over the third and fourth drafts. He had thought he had written a good letter in his fifth draft and he had anxiously sent it to his friend Natalie for her personal and professional opinion as well as her help. He wasn't sure if she had gotten it or if she was, as usual, using this to test and help him grow. It was most likely the latter.
However, this is exactly what he had been trying to achieve. He had been inching closer and closer to what he aspired to and it was being presented to him. He had been given a chance to prove himself. Whether he was considered worthy and skilled was not in his hands anymore, he could only do his best and let the Sultana decide if she would take his oath. He anxiously hoped that she would.
At the very least, he was sure the sixth draft of his letter would fare better than the others. He had spilled ale over his first draft and had lost his second. His nerves broke the quills that he had used over the third and fourth drafts. He had thought he had written a good letter in his fifth draft and he had anxiously sent it to his friend Natalie for her personal and professional opinion as well as her help. He wasn't sure if she had gotten it or if she was, as usual, using this to test and help him grow. It was most likely the latter.
