To keep him from being a source of gossip all about town means he'd have to rough it out in the woods. Which means you have to provide the food required, which means money, which means hard work. You are too flustered at the moment to run the numbers, but that means a full-time job and an end to the leisurely days of your childhood. And that has a price.
After explaining the complications, Silvanus kneels gracefully. The forest floor of twigs, leaves, and deadened grass might as well be center court at the castle. It is far too grand a gesture for this locale.
The noble-born says gracefully what would sound as complete and utter lunacy from anyone else's lips. "I would be forever in your debt, milady. But I also have something I can offer you that no one else alive can. I can teach you control over magic."
You're not going to lie—you become lightheaded from the excitement now pent-up inside of you. Magical powers? You? This is going to change your life forever. And for the better, or at least…you hope.
A delicate white finger presses against your forehead, swirling about in a strange but rhythmic fashion. While it doesn't feel bad, you still feel the need to address the odd situation.
"I am unlocking a few barriers of your mind so that your innate magical aptitude can be set free. That doesn't mean you'll be able to use it immediately, and it will be some time before you have control over it…but it does mean that you can tap into it. Think of it as a reservoir of mental energy you never knew you had. And the smarter you are, the more of that energy you have. There's a reason wizards tended to be the bookish type."
While Silvanus explains about barriers and mental energy pools, you feel some urges of your own. Like the urge to throw up some of that wedding feast, which is especially bad since a member of magical royalty is standing inches in front of you. The acid slowly climbs its way up your throat, your eyes hastening your companion to be as quick as possible.
"And it is done…fascinating, so that is the color of your soul."
You push Silvanus out of the way and turn to let the contents of your stomach go. The color of your soul is the least of your concerns as your throat feels as if it's on fire. You know it's bad when you find yourself wishing for a dark dwarven stout to wash the flavor out. To your dismay, your new magical tutor is examining you with great curiosity.
"What a peculiar reaction! I admit I have never done such a thing to a person before, so I wasn't quite sure what would happen. Fascinating!" That boyish charm permeates through his genuine curiosity.
Being a test subject for a dark magician is hardly your idea of a good time. But the 'color of your soul?' Whatchu talkin' bout, Silvanus?
"Each soul has a color, representative of the element of magic it's most strongly attuned to. There were once mages who could identify yours with just a passing glance, but unfortunately, they are long since gone. The color of my soul is black, though little surprise in that; I have a dark soul fragment residing within me."
You fail in hiding your anxiousness. Well, what color is it?!
"The color of your soul is…" Silvanus gives pause, forcing anxiety to build upwards inside your stomach. Just what sort of shade does your spirit take, what sort of essence does it hold? You know yourself—or at least you think you do—but as for the ethereal being inside your body…you can't help but wonder.
After what feels like an eternity, he proceeds