Andrew Wright scuffed his feet nervously on the opulent rug underfoot. Motes of dust fluffed into the air, caught by the light of the setting sun streaming in through the tall window. He shifted self-consciously from side to side, just enough to relieve the minor aches caused by sitting in the same place for — he glanced at the grandfather clock at the end of the hall — just over an hour now.
The Magister in charge of London’s chapter of the Order of the Golden Dawn was not a man to be kept waiting, but apparently the same rule did not apply in reverse. Andrew had been with the Order for nearly two years now, and had been very dedicated. But somehow, he felt it might all be for nought. He felt empty, as though he were just playing at learning rather than delving into greater truths he instinctively knew were out there. He had no idea how Magister Hall would react, but expected the worst out of habit. Better to expect disappointment and be pleasantly surprised than to expect a reward and be disappointed.
“The Magister will see you now.”
Startled, Andrew looked up from the leather-lined bench in the hall outside the Magister’s sanctum, and nodded to the Initiate who had silently appeared next to him. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and stood up straight, attempting to project a sense of bravado he didn’t really feel. He turned to his left and marched down the short hall to the imposing wooden doors leading to Magister Hall’s private offices, leaving the faceless Initiate behind him.
Opening the doors, Andrew felt even more intimidated by the offices; the room must have been two storeys tall, and nearly every inch of wall space not occupied by a bookcase was covered in artifacts from Egypt, darker Africa, and Cathay. A large cherrywood desk dominated the room, behind which stood an ornate high-backed chair. The single occupant of the room was an older gentleman dressed in an an elegant pinstripe suit. He was going over some papers laid out neatly in front of him, looking up when he heard Andrew clearing his throat.
“Adeptus Wright, this is an unexpected pleasure. What can I do for you?” Hall pointed to a small chair opposite him at the desk.
Andrew looked at the chair, fidgeting. “Magister Hall, this isn’t easy for me to say… but I must leave the Order.”
Hall raised his eyebrow, gesturing again at the seat, waiting for Andrew before continuing. “Leave the Order of the Golden Dawn? Such a thing is not lightly done, particularly by someone who has been with us as long as you. May I ask why?”
Andrew squirmed with discomfort. “Well, I initially joined the Order because of the promise of learning the true workings of Creation. And while I have learned much…” He hesitated.
“Yes?” prompted Hall, “go on.”
“I suppose I feel like I’ve mostly been wasting my time. The mysteries I’m learning, the occult truths… they ring hollow. I just feel like there should be something more out there.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m probably not explaining myself very well.” He looked down at his feet, which were busy again scuffing the rug.
“Not at all,” Hall smiled, spreading his arms out. “Actually, I suspect I know exactly how you feel.”
Andrew blinked, looking up to meet Hall’s gaze. “Excuse me?”
Hall grinned even wider. “I said I know what you’re thinking; and you’re absolutely right. Most of the rites and rituals we employ are pure bollocks.”
“What? Then why…”
“Oh, most of the Magisters and such happily follow orders, believing it’s all true. I’m… well, you can think of me as a recruiter, if you like. I represent another Society, looking for people like you, people who are looking for something more.”
“Another society?” Andrew frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Hall leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “There are societies more secret than the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, the Order of the Rising Day, the Enlightened Society of the Weeping Moon, or any of the other pretenders. Societies which carry true knowledge about the world around us, which boast a true direct lineage to ancient practices. Some would misuse their knowledge. My society would use it to protect the world and make it a safer place.” He paused. “And we could use you.”
Andrew gaped. “Me? Why me?”
“Well, Adeptus Wright — would it be all right if simply called you Mr. Wright? — Mr. Wright, for the most part, my job is to seek out and rare individual with that rare potential for talent, the hidden spark, the mark of genius. Such individuals are one in a hundred, or perhaps even as rare as one in a thousand. Then I must groom them and mould them suitably until they awaken to the real truth. You are exceedingly rare; you appear to have developed this awareness entirely on your own. Of the few people with the potential for genius, you are one in one hundred among them. That you have essentially landed in my lap is truly fortuitous; indeed, providence. You cannot help but be an asset to us. And so,” Hall stood, holding his hand out across the desk to Andrew, “will you join us?”
Andrew stared at it a moment. “Well sir, to be honest, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about this group of yours. It sounds good, but…”
Hall dropped his hand. “Yes, of course. You require evidence before your eyes before you believe, before you trust.” He returned to his seat, smiling. “If I had meant that to be a test, you would have passed. But it is nevertheless an excellent sign of your character. I believe you’ll fit in with us nicely.” Hall reseated himself. Pulling a fresh piece of parchment from a desk drawer, he began making swift notations on it with a fountain pen. “Mr. Wright, I’d like you to be at the following address at noon tomorrow. Tell them I sent you. For the time being, tell no one else.” He handed Andrew the paper. Picking up a small bell from a corner of his desk, he rang it. The Initiate waiting outside opened the door expectantly. Hall returned his attention to the documents on his desktop, waving in the direction of the door. “Dismissed, Adeptus.”
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