Seven years ago I came to Redhurst. Like many young students, I found my classes difficult. My early attempts at enchantment were failures and I considered returning home. But one afternoon Master Ropran sat down across from me at supper. I had spent much of the day defending my parentage to callous upperclassmen and feared that now I would be required to defend my crumbling academic record to one of the faculty. I busied myself with soup and cheese and tried to say as little as possible. But the master continued to engage me in conversation until I realized I had told him my life story. At the end of the meal, he told me that I was not an enchanter like my mother. Instead he said he would instruct me in the ways of conjuration.
Though Master Ropran was not a seer, he possessed an uncanny ability to plumb the depths of one's heart with but a few pointed questions. I was one of many students he helped over the years. His classes taught us not merely magical conjurations. They taught us how to summon our own strengths and how to fashion ourselves into honorable wizards.
When I completed my base studies, I was honored to have Master Ropran ask me to act as his assistant. So it was that I walked beside him on the fateful day that he was killed. I can only beg the forgiveness of both him and the Academy for failing to save him. I can never hope to fill the void his death leaves, but I will continue my studies and my work with the Bisechen Schoo to the best of my abilities until the day I am asked to leave.
Once I thought of leaving here. I thank Master Ropran for showing me that it is my true home.