Fritz the Mariner, as he is known, has spent as much time on a ship as your average noble has on a horse; from an early age he was apparently fascinated by the seas.

At first glance he looked more like a sailor than a nobleman, as he had spent a good chunk of his life adventuring abroad his beloved ship, the Seahorse. Which had a horse's head for a figurehead, a nod to his noble heritage and his love for the sea. Despite his rough exterior, Fritz was known to occasionally give the poor barrels of herring and other leftover provisions from his voyages.

When you approached him to be your admiral for the coming campaign, he replied most positively.

At first glance, he seemed more the true rough seaman, with his moustache, chin beard, long salt-coated hair, and scar on his cheek. His bushy eyebrows drooped slightly.

''Aye, as yer like, yar mahesty, is aboot tyme I served ye in a more official capacity. Just let me know when we set sail, and I'll have the Seahorse ready for battle.''

''For someone of noble birth, you talk much like your sailors.'' You noted.

He laughed. ''Aye, I've spent more time on the sea than in any fancy court; it is with whom you spend time that makes you talk in a manner, and me and me lads have been together for a very long time. But yeh should not worry; I will lead your ships to battle.'' And with that, you knew you had found a loyal and capable admiral for your upcoming campaign.

Friedrich von Visküste, as he was actually known, would have gladly taken you for a tour of the Seahorse, though you declined because of a constrained schedule.

You had to return to Rittersbach for something posthaste.

Whenever a mage successfully graduates with a diploma in the artes incertae , the governing body concerning magic, the pannational magisterium for the regulation of the arcane, an association controlled by the church, the universities, and the mages guilds, would send (though in reality, it's more like a conference of local mages) the graduate an official licence, a robe, and a staff.

And so it was with Sophia; you arranged for a special audience so you might receive these illustrious scholars. And receive them you did; most of them held up to the ideals of a mage: old, wise, and, if a man, with a good long grey beard. Sophia felt a sense of pride and accomplishment as she donned her robe and held her staff, officially recognised as a mage by the highest authority.

It was a very long white robe, mostly for ceremonial occasions, and an oakum staff with an onyx sphere in it, a practical badge of office.

You could sleep most satisfied, indeed. Your invasion of Ölfland, scheduled for the spring of next year, could not be coming together more smoothly; Sophia would be of great assistance, of that much you were certain.