At the end of a long afternoon, Gideon stood by the now-clear windows of the dining hall and breathed a sigh of both worry and relief. It had taken him and Sir Clonk most of the day to clean up, build a small stage out of earth magic, and set the tables, but they were finally done. Though Grimsby had forbidden anyone to enter the kitchen, including a dejected Melissa, the smells of a feast, carried by a generous draft, wafted through the large double doors of the hall.

It was almost time. The rats would be here soon. Which left only…

He watched Mariel Stormrider float above the center of the courtyard, hovering there with her head bowed, eyes closed, and hands hanging by her sides. The air around her seemed to refract the light so that she looked warped, larger than reality. A single storm cloud hung in the sky above her. Both the wizard and the cloud had been there since dawn that morning.

There was a change in the air, a sudden tension, and Gideon grit his teeth as he prepared for what was to come. A flash of light washed out Gideon’s vision, followed by a booming sound. It felt as if the castle itself shuddered. Gideon shut his eyes and turned away from the window. Once it was over, he reached into his ears and pulled out the globs of wax he’d stuck there.

This had been happening, over and over again, since dawn. Apparently, this was how Lady Mariel meditated. There was no damage, as she seemed to absorb the energy with some strange channeling technique Gideon had never seen before. But even if it was harmless, it was certainly annoying.

He’d thought his previous guests had been troublesome, but he should have worried for what was yet to come.

Lady Mariel had woken up before Gideon that morning. He'd stayed up late stargazing with Sir Clonk and had been desperate to sleep in. She marched downstairs, informing Grimsby along the way that she didn’t eat breakfast and, therefore, had no use for the food he had prepared.

“You may discard it,” she said before shooing the skeleton away.

Gideon knew all this because a few minutes later, he awoke to bones rapping on his door and had to talk Grimsby back from the brink of violence. Though the awakening had initially annoyed Gideon, perhaps it had been for the best. Grimsby’s fury had freed him from his recurring dream, or maybe nightmare, of running through the castle.

By the time Gideon was fully alert, Mariel Stormrider had already taken up position in the courtyard. Rather than disturb her, he’d eaten his breakfast, praising Grimsby twice as much as usual to appease him. Then they’d gotten to work.

The feast would be at dusk, which, judging by the sun’s position, was drawing close at hand. He had managed to avoid Mariel Stormrider for as long as he could.

“Tell me, Clonk,” Gideon said, turning away from the window. “Do you conduct electricity?”

“I’m not going out there,” Clonk said. He raised one gauntlet to the side and bowed from the waist. “Tonight is my proper debut, Gideon. The night with the spider raid doesn’t count. If you think I would endanger the creator and lead actor of Dinner Adventures on a task better suited for management to undertake, then I don’t know what to tell you. If you think I would ever betray my audience so cruelly, you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

“Okay, okay,” Gideon said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’ll go tell her.”

“Thank you,” Clonk said. “As it turns out, I have enough time for one last dress rehearsal.”

Then he marched out of the dining hall.

Melissa entered a moment later, her eyes watching Clonk escape down the hallway before she turned to Gideon. “Grimsby says soon. Almost ready.” She patted her stomach, which growled in response.

“That’s great,” Gideon said. “Thanks for earlier, Melissa.” She had helped them move some of the furniture. While he’d watched Clonk and Melissa in bear form lift the heavy wooden tables, Gideon couldn’t help but wonder which one of them would win in an arm wrestling competition.

“Where do I sit?” she asked, her eyes darting around the room.

“Anywhere you want,” Gideon said, chuckling. The dining hall consisted of a dozen large circular tables and a few smaller ones, now dust-free and with full settings. “You’re the first one here. It doesn’t start for a while.”

“Hung-ee,” Melissa said, then paused and closed her hands into fists at her sides. She took a deep breath, then said slowly, “I’m hungry.” She sighed. “Ondine says I no talk ‘proper.’ I prove her wrong, though.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Gideon said. “You’re still young. No one expects you to have perfect grammar.”

As if on cue, Ondine floated through the wall. “But how will she ever learn said proper grammar, Gideon, living out in the woods, away from civilization?”

“I tell you,” Melissa cried. “No school!”

“I offered to teach her,” Ondine said, shaking her head. “This was the reaction I got earlier.”

Gideon walked over to Melissa, hesitating when he was still a few steps away. “It’s not school,” he said gently. “It’s just learning from a friend.”

“No need,” Melissa said and pouted. “I not talk bad. I talk good.”

“I would beg to differ—” Ondine began before Gideon looked at her and shook his head. Indeed, now was not the time to argue with a child about her grammar. Or lack thereof.

“Melissa,” Gideon began and then paused. He sat down on the floor next to her. “Where are your parents, anyway? I know you don’t want any help or think you need it. And maybe you don’t. I know you’re not exactly a typical child, but—”

“I’m strong,” Melissa growled through clenched teeth. “I don’t need.”

“I know you’re strong,” Gideon said. “I saw the pile of spiders you tore apart. The ones you didn’t eat.” He clapped his hands together. “But a strong person doesn’t always work alone. A really strong person is happy to accept help from friends.”

“They are?” Melissa said, sounding suspicious.

“Of course. Think about a pack of animals on the hunt,” Gideon said. “They work as a team. They help each other out.”

“I hunt alone,” Melissa said darkly.

Gideon sighed. His attempt at a nature metaphor had failed. Desperate, Gideon turned towards the ghostly lady. “Besides, think of how happy it will make Ondine.”

Melissa laughed.

Just then, another blast of lightning rattled the window, and the room was illuminated for a moment in stark white, and Melissa's laugh was abruptly cut short. This time, without the wax earplugs, the noise echoed in his mind after the blast faded.

“If you’ll excuse me, though,” Gideon said through gritted teeth, “I must see to a guest.”

When he arrived in the courtyard, he was surprised to find Lady Mariel standing rather than floating, staring up into the sky. A cold wind had begun to blow, and he pulled his robes tighter around him as he shivered. When he approached her, she turned her gaze towards him and grinned.

“There’s going to be a storm,” she said.

Gideon sighed. “As if there hasn’t been one all day right outside our window.”

“Oh, I mean a real one,” she said and smiled. “I hope I didn’t bother you.”

He couldn’t help but wonder if she had been doing all this to get his attention. Last night, he’d told her he was tired and didn’t want to discuss serious matters. He’d shown her to her room and taken his leave as soon as possible. But he was starting to think he’d avoided her as long as she would allow.

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“I was swamped today, you know,” Gideon said. “We’re having a dinner reception tonight. I wasn’t avoiding you on purpose.”

She shook her head. “You misunderstand me. That is simply how I meditate.”

“You couldn’t have done it on the mountain next door?”

She laughed softly. “I suppose I could have. Are you ready to talk, then? I am unaccustomed to being rebuffed in such a way as you did last night. Many would count themselves blessed to receive my favor.”

Gideon shrugged. “I didn’t save your son to gain your favor. You don’t owe me anything, and there’s no need to concern yourself with my future. I’ve got it well in hand.”

“I thought you might say that,” Mariel said. “But you don’t know what I’m offering yet.”

“If that’s true, it’s only because you insist on drawing it out.”

She smirked. “Fair enough, Mr. Moody. You remind me a bit of my Marcus if he possessed more talent and less desire to chase skirts. He doesn’t suffer me, either.” She turned to him, reached into her robe, and held out a scroll sealed with wax.

Hesitantly, Gideon took it from her hand. As he looked down, he spotted the crest on the seal, and his heart jumped. A year ago, he would have died of happiness to hold this in his hand.

“How would you like to be a wizard, Gideon?” she said, smiling. “An offer of immediate admission to Falconridge Academy. Full scholarship.”

He handed it back to her. “Thank you, but I’m already going to be a wizard. My Uncle is teaching me.”

“Your Uncle?” she said incredulously. Gideon had noticed his Uncle had been scarce ever since Mariel had arrived. He wondered if there was a reason for that.

She refused to take the scroll back from him, so Gideon found himself holding it out for an awkward amount of time. “Yes,” Gideon said, then thought for a moment. “He’s ostensibly the lord of this castle, but I haven’t seen him.”

“Ah. My son spoke of him, but it all seemed so outlandish, I couldn’t help but question the veracity of what he told me,” Mariel said. “So it is the Lord of Kastorus who produced the constructs I encountered. Where is he?” She waved her hand, and blue light shimmered around her head like a halo.

[You have been scanned!]

In time with the notification, Gideon felt a wave of mana wash over him. It wasn’t hostile, but it gave him goosebumps.

Was she searching for his Uncle?

“Constructs?” Gideon asked. “Do you mean Grimsby and Clonk? Lady, they’re not constructs, and Grimsby would be even more upset right now if he could hear you.”

“I can hear you,” Grimsby called from an open window of the castle.

“You don’t have ears,” Gideon called back in surprise. Gideon hadn’t realized the kitchen window was open or that Grimsby could have heard them from inside. The skeleton did have strangely good hearing.

“I am upset, though,” Grimsby added, cackling.

Muriel’s eyes narrowed as if she was deep in thought for a moment. Then she said, “Huh,” and smiled. “I apologize, Grimsby. I must confess I thought you were a mindless construct. But you’re not. You’re a class four, perhaps class five, skeleton-bound spirit. How long have you resided here?”

“None of your business,” Grimsby replied after a moment of silence. “Long enough.”

“The ability to evade a direct question,” Muriel murmured, casting a sly look at Gideon. “And a distinct personality. Class five, then. Remarkable. I am very sorry, Grimsby. Though I usually avoid such excesses, tomorrow morning I will eat breakfast. For you. A skeleton who is upset because I did not eat breakfast.” She sighed. “It would be a good idea to eat before my son and his foolish escort arrive, anyway. I will need energy for the travels ahead. It’s difficult to carry two, after all.”

“Carry two?” Gideon echoed, then shook his head. “If you’re implying that I’m coming with you, like I’ve said—”

“Let me talk to your Uncle,” Muriel interrupted. “If that’s who you’re worried about, I’ll convince him.”

“I’m not worried,” Gideon said. “But I’m tired of being hounded. I gave you your answer.” He held out the scroll towards her again, and she reluctantly took it.

“Just a tour, then?” she said. “A quick little jaunt to Prospera and back. A stroll around the Falconridge campus. A chance to convince you.” She bowed her head forward. “In the end, I will respect your decision. But please, give this offer the consideration it deserves. I’m not sure you quite realize what you’re turning down.”

“You may believe you can give me a better education than my Uncle,” Gideon said. “And for all I know, you might be right. But you’re only interested in me now because I saved your son. Your school wasn’t interested in me five—” He paused momentarily, recounting. “Six years ago, when it actually would have helped me. It’s too late now.”

She looked up at him. “We made a mistake. The fact is, I would accept you as a student, Gideon, even if you hadn’t saved my son. Though you’ve made great progress here, I think you’d make even greater progress at our institution. But if your Uncle disagrees, he can let me know.”

As if in answer, the twin doors of Castle Kastorus split apart, and a mirror flew between them. He straightened out before Mariel Stormrider, who smirked as if she’d received the answer to her question.

“You must be Lord Kelvan,” she said, and gave him a short bow.

He returned it from inside the mirror, and the mirror dipped forward in a strange imitation of him. “Indeed.”

“Can I assume you’ve been listening to our entire conversation?” Mariel asked.

Gideon watched his Uncle and Mariel regard each other, both suspicious.

“It is hard to avoid,” Lord Kelvan said. “I hear many things, but only some which I feel the need to respond to. I thought my Nephew had this well in hand. He told you off, so there.”

“You’re connected to the castle,” she said. “The mirror is an anchor item, something of great significance to you—but you’re not bound to it. So you’re class six, then, or—”

“They don’t make a number for what I am,” Kelvan said, staring at her, his red eyes like tiny smoldering suns. Gideon had never seen them turn this way before, like they were shimmering, and for a moment, he worried about what might happen. He gripped his staff tightly in his hand.

“It’s almost time for dinner,” Gideon said, but neither responded.

“Your constant commentary on our unlikeliness is very annoying, you know,” Lord Kelvan said to Lady Mariel. “Yes, we know, we’re all great. So what?”

“You all should have suffered some spiritual degradation by now,” she said. “I called my husband and asked him to fetch the records for Castle Kastorus before I came here. He had to dig deep into the archives, old records from before the revolution, but he found them. This place has never had an owner after the Knights of Celestra sieged it. Lord Kelvan, this place is still yours. And yet, you’re undead. By the Laws of Acretan—”

“Acretan does not exist,” Kelvan blurted out.

“Saying that is sedition,” Mariel said coldly. “Don’t tell me you wish to reform the monarchy? You really are old.”

“I am a citizen of the Kingdom of Gleuric,” Kelvan said. “I do not recognize the cabal you call a government. You replaced one king with a circle of wizard councilors or whatever foolish system you use. Gideon is bad at explaining the details.” He stroked his beard and laughed. “At least the King was trained to lead. He wasn’t whoever managed to amass the most power. He was born into it. A soul from the ether like any other. You see, it might as well have been completely random. Anyone could have been King, we all just lost the lottery.”

“It was randomly bad, as often as not,” Mariel said. “Now the leaders of Acretan are the ones who have studied the most. Learned the most. Achieved the most.”

“The most according to who?” Kelvan said. “According to a bunch of other wizards. Wizards who can be bribed. Wizards who have their own self-interests, prejudices, and desire to hold and keep power.”

“It’s still better than random,” Mariel said, shaking her head, then turned to Gideon. “Please, Mr. Moody. Consider learning at a school from this century. One that doesn’t support the monarchy.”

“I don’t care what he supports,” Gideon said with a shrug. “It’s not like he can reinstate the monarchy alone. The revolution is over, Lady Mariel. There’s no need to keep fighting it.”

“Any hierarchy based on so-called merit, no matter how nobly designed, will turn to decadence and corruption,” Kelvan said calmly. “Like yours.”

“That’s okay, Uncle,” Gideon said, holding out his hands to both of them. “But if you want to do me a favor, Lady Mariel, there is something else you could do.”

Gideon reached into his pocket and took out a card he’d received in Prospera from the Elvish lawyer Evander Mistwood. As he held it, he thought of Berenyn and Shylvena and wondered how they were doing in the city. It had been too long since he had talked to them. They had begun to fade away, memories of a simpler time.

Mariel looked down at the card as Gideon handed it to her. He spoke of Mortimer Rook and the bad loan he’d taken to fund a useless crash course. He left out the burglary, of course, only mentioning that Mortimer Rook now had a vendetta against him for failing to pay up.

“Evander Mistwood can explain the details. He said there wasn’t anything he could legally do for me, and that the city guard had neither the resources or the willpower to pursue such claims. But you control the guard, don’t you?”

“I don’t,” she said and shook her head. “My husband does.” She frowned. “So you turned down my favor to ask for a bigger one.”

“Mortimer Rook is a criminal,” Gideon said. “He was threatening people, keeping samples of their blood in a warehouse.”

Mariel sighed, then rubbed her temples. “How aggravating. Fine, I’ll humor you. Where is this warehouse?”

Gideon shook his head. “It’s gone.” I destroyed it, but I can’t tell her that. “One of his thugs told me they rotate it from warehouse to warehouse. I don’t know where it is now.”

“Pah. Well, if you’re asking for a favor like this, you’re asking for something that isn’t mine to give. You’ll have to come with me whether you want to visit the school or not, now,” Mariel said smugly. “My husband will need you to ask him for this in person.”

“Fine,” Gideon said, nodding. “If I have to.” He looked up in the sky and realized all the light had faded. It had happened almost at once, the last of the orange glow retreating. The moon, now, was vivid. “You’ve made me painfully late,” Gideon said as he tapped his foot nervously. “Dinner service is supposed to have started already.”

“Sorry, bub,” Grimsby called from the kitchen window. “This was extremely distracting. Since you all got started, I've only served one plate.”

“Mine,” Melissa said, apparently having charged into the kitchen to seize the meal. Then, more quietly, Gideon heard her whisper, “What they say?”

“Gideon doesn’t want to go to school,” Grimsby replied smoothly, and Gideon shouted in protest.

But it was too late.

“Gideon don’t wanna go school either!” Melissa shouted in victory. “So Melissa don’t have to!”