Without his mind guiding, Medurio’s body went for the nearest door and sent him inside. Too fearful to think of an alternative, the others followed.

Now the four had found themselves in an office, scaring the occupant half to death as they barged inside. Medurio initially did not take in the appearance of the neat and spectacled man. His eyes were off elsewhere, looking past the window behind the man and into the grand garden that lay beyond. “We’re right here!” He thought in impromptu aggravation. And thus his mind could no longer escape the thought of the inquisitor’s awful timing.

Quickly gathering himself, the man who sat at the plain wooden table gave them a slight smile. “H-how can I help you?”

Everyone besides Medurio stared at the man with silent abashment. None knew what to say but all knew that they would rather take this embarrassment then face another terrifying meeting with the inquisitor.

Before the man could speak again, Medurio answered, “Ah, sorry about that.” His face was as blank as an empty canvas. “We were looking to get our list of classes for the next term.”

The man at the desk nodded his head but his expression plainly showed his confusion. “Right, I see.” He scratched his chin. “But I don’t handle those. You should speak to the receptionist, I believe they gave you the wrong name.”

Medurio nodded his head, but he could hear voices just outside the door. Two voices, he recognized both. His heart thumped in a frenzy. The inquisitor and the head of the academy were passing just outside. His throat turned dry, his hands started to shake. He had to say something, anything to keep the man in front of him busy. “That’s unfortunate,” he said coarsely. “Could you perchance give us the name of that person? I’m not sure the receptionist will be reliable next time.”

Stolen novel; please report.

The man sighed but his friendly tone did not change, “I am not too sure. You should really see the reception first, they should at least have a list with them of the names of everyone in the building.”

Medurio nodded his head in mock disappointment as he slowly inclined his head toward the door. The sound of the hallway door shutting released the stress from his body.

The group left the room just as loudly as they had when they went in. The hall was clear once again and free of threats.

Going through the exit, they entered the building's grand garden. Surrounding an uninteresting gazebo was a exotic variety of plants and enough color to paint a rainbow. Just like the one outside of the academy, it was lovely to look at. But Medurio could now only pray to the gods of nature that he found the plant he was looking for.

“What’s this plant even supposed to look like?” Siegfried whispered.

Medurio was about to ridicule the man for speaking before realizing that he himself hardly knew. He had only heard of the plant once, from a book kept in his fathers study. The one that he read as a child and a reason that he had done the complete opposite of what his father wished. “A red, ovoid shaped bean,” he recounted, “Grown from a small treelike plant.”

“What in the name of the gods is an ovoid?” Siegfried said before shaking his head, “Nevermind, I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

Thus began the taxing process of identifying each similar looking plant. And it was so until Medurio himself found one on his lonesome. The others crouched down next to him as he pulled a bean from its many branches. “That is swiftweed?” Scrulo said, perplexed. “Who came up with such a name? It looks nothing like a weed!”

Medurio did not care to answer. He had the seed, the last ingredient that would put an end to this cursed trial he had brought upon himself. If he had not been in such close contact with the inquisitor, he would have yelled out with great joy. But this was no time for celebration. They were still in the garden, and a door had come open with a squeak.