The Court Wizard

A pompous court wizard, dressed in an extravagant robe and an absurdly tall, broad-brimmed hat. His layered garments are trimmed with gold braid and crowded with embroidered stars, moons, and tiny crowns. He carries a polished staff of hawthorn topped with a glass orb. His jeweled glove and theatrical gestures add pomp and pedigree to every spell. His waxed mustache curls upward like twin punctuation marks.

He is nearly always accompanied by a sprite named Quinn. She takes the appearance of a tiny young woman dressed in bluebell flowers. She often praises the Court Wizard and will confirm her status as his underling, but anyone paying attention easily notices that this public face falls off a little too quickly when she isn't socializing.

The Court Wizard can't remember where he came from, what he was doing, or even his name. His earliest memory is coming to in a warm, humid forest, naked and afraid. Shortly upon his terrifying awakening, a sprite named Quinn arived and informed him that he had made a deal with her patron, the Master of Festivities, a chaotic, capricious Archfey of good times, fun, and good times gone too far. He had been granted power, but at the cost of his identity.

Upon getting back to civilization with Quinn, the Court Wizard bluffed his way into minor positions of importance, passing himself off as a traveling petty wizard. Unable to hear any name given to him, his webs of lies grew greater and greater, until he was inevitably run out of town as a witch.

He learned from this experience, and tried again in the next town. He did better, and lasted longer before being run out. Then twice more. In the fourth town, he was able to finally establish himself while keeping the town deceived, living comfortably on their labors. But slowly, his mind turned to more. Perhaps, rather than a curse, this pact he made was a blessing. He decided to put the theory to the test, and presented himself at court, offering services as the personal magician of the lord of the land.

Life was good, until, again, the lies overwhelmed him, causing him to flee in the night, shedding the old life with no thought at all, forgotten nearly as quickly as a name passing his lips. He has since traveled court to court, learning to never stay for more than a few months, so as to not risk contradicting himself.

He announces every spell as a polished demonstration of respectable arcane scholarship. He names his spells as grand schools of wizardry, sprinkles technical terms through his explanations, and pauses for applause after minor cantrips. He corrects people on the pronunciation of words he invented himself, and will routinely present other people's ideas as his own, expecting credit and denying any indication that his idea was stolen.

He cannot resist correcting anyone who questions his credentials, especially a genuine wizard. He spends coin meant for necessities on costume repairs, imported perfumes, and convincing props for his false demonstrations. His lies have grown so elaborate that he sometimes forgets which parts of his education are real. A public mistake can send him into a furious spiral of excuses and theatrical curses.

He wants the crown to grant him the title of Royal Archmagus, along with a tower, land holdings, a lordly title, and the right to enter rooms before announcing himself. He must keep his pact hidden from the court, since exposure would cost him his office, his life, and perhaps the souls of everyone who trusted him. He takes dangerous assignments to create spectacular victories that no rival can dismiss, all while feeding his patron influence through the secrets, bargains, and fear gathered in the palace.