The Empire of Reimia (3)

"The bygone glory – is that the time of Theria, or what? My premonitions didn't deceive me – troubled times are coming. And – what a delightful coincidence – the only person capable of explaining what's happening and preparing for the future has vanished without a trace from the academy." – Marey rubbed his face with his left hand, his expression tense. His fingers brushed against a boil above his eyebrow, and the student instinctively crushed it, splattering pale yellow pus on his fingers. – "Well, all that's left is to wait."
In reality, it couldn't be said that he was particularly concerned about the well-being of the empire – for Marey, his country, his homeland, meant only a set of conditions in which he had to exist, and he didn't feel any particularly strong emotions towards it. The sorcerer wasn't particularly afraid of troubled times either – the idea of peaceful prosperity bored him, and, objectively speaking, his malicious, selfish, and ambitious character was completely unsuited for a quiet life. But he wasn't ready, the possibility of his plans being disrupted irritated him, and, unconsciously, he was afraid that he might not survive the coming storm – and Marey was much more attached to life than he himself could imagine.