Drim’s fingers tapped against the arm of his throne as he thought hard about how to spend the rest of his day. And not just that day, but the rest of the week and month too. In the span of a morning, he’d lost two of his main commitments. Now that Gatrim had achieved his victory, their daily duels had come to an end.
Additionally, now that the secondary election had passed, with Callum and Victori spearheading his campaign, Drim had absolutely nothing to contribute to his political ambitions until Nonovber which was still a couple months away. On the other side, the more espionage aspect of things, Phon had it covered, using Jaid and Feyjrusa as her lap dogs—assuring Drim they had everything handled without having to take up his time.
And that had become a bit of a problem, not just with his political ventures, but with everything else. Running his organization, taking on missions, helping others with their responsibilities, it had all practically ceased in his life. Everyone assumed he was constantly so busy because of his standing and what was presumed to be on his plate. As a result, no one asked him for anything. No requests, no favors, and most regrettably, no hanging out.
Even when Drim himself tried to instigate it, offering to accompany other members on missions, they’d almost always refuse. Some even took it so far as to believe they were being tested or evaluated, when really Drim just wanted to act like any other member. Deborah had stopped sending him custom jobs as well, delegating the most important ones to the other generals.
To make things worse, even Jaid, who could literally make what seemed to be endlessly clones, didn't seem like she had time for him. Whether it was monster hunting, or digging up evidence, or just being friends. It felt like she’d been keeping her distance more lately with her own issues to work through, so Drim hadn’t pressed. Perhaps the dynamic of their relationship, especially as ruler and servant, was just too complicated.
And top it all off, even the man’s biggest dream, Project Fiendless, had all but left his hands. He was honestly still pretty upset that he’d been ousted from the mission to space, not that he’d let it show. It sounded like a great adventure, and he’d kicked himself for weeks after being unable to be there for them, to protect them in their time of need. Drim had understood and accepted Nathym’s wishes, but it still sucked.
The project had moved onto its final phases, which mostly consisted of experimentation and trials, to which he’d also been ensured he couldn’t really help with. Even when the king had openly offered his own body for the experiments, that had been flatly refused—a willing and eager lab rat turned away at the door. He couldn’t even get Ahvra to take up a free offer to dissect him. What was the world coming to?
Really it would be the perfect time for the man to just live. To catch up on everything he’d missed—so many books to read, go on adventures to satisfy his own desires and curiosities. But while others were working so hard, he just couldn’t bring himself to relax. The open throne hours had honestly been a last ditch effort to maintain some form of work-life balance. But if he did it for more than an hour a week, he’d really go insane.
No, he had to stay productive. Once the project was complete, when the world was at peace, then he could finally rest. So he had to do something. But if no one would give him work to do, he’d just have to find it himself.
A series of messages came to mind, sent by an old acquaintance. They had only ever actually met just the once, but one of them was more enthused than the other with trying to maintain contact and grow their relationship. And now that man had gone so far as to continually make Drim the same job offer, with such ludicrously flexible terms that it had been hard to refuse.
Daily spars with Gatrim and regular meetings were some of the excuses the king had been making to put it off. But with those gone, maybe it was time to finally take The Angler up on his offer. Drim went back and checked the emails sent from him, and then quadruple-checked his own schedule to make sure that it was feasible.
Finally, as the open throne hour came to an end, he made a decision to accept it. The king then sent messages to his fellow generals, informing them of his extended leave of absence, though he’d still come back anytime he was needed. And then he went to pack a bag for his venture into a new life. It was time to return to school.
◆◆◆
“Good morning, students,” a portly man dressed in fishing garb walked into the classroom and headed towards the lectern at the front.
“Hey, who’s that?” One of the students whispered to their neighbor as the man got settled.
“Eh, you don’t know him?” the other was surprised. “He’s the chairman of the school who bought this place! It’s The Angler, he spoke at our entrance ceremony.”
“Nah, don’t remember,” the first shamelessly admitted. “But what’s he—”
“I’d like to begin with an apology,” The Angler started, ready to give the students answers to their burning questions. “The sudden change in your schedules that you received last night certainly led to untold confusion and worries. This sort of rash change and lack of communications is unacceptable to the standards we have set forth here at Weathered Woods Academy, and I assure you it will not happen again.”
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“However, I believe you’ll find the reasoning rather worthwhile, which we’ll get to momentarily. But first, I would like to thank you all for continuing your education here. The world is in desperate need of capable and competent monster hunters now more than ever. Military power is down globally, with trust in governmental factions weakening at every turn.”
“The Fiends For Hire can’t save everyone, so it falls to freelance monster hunters and organized mercenaries to pick up the slack and keep our citizens safe. Not only that, but monster based industry has been growing without enough labor to keep up demand. Ranching, component processing, and even now training has become its own field, all of which require extensive training in monster studies as well as the skills to keep yourself and those around you safe.”
“Regardless of which path you choose when you leave this place, we hope to provide you with any and all necessary skills you’ll need in the future to pursue your goals. Thank you for continuing to make Weathered Woods Academy the best educational institution for budding monster hunters and others who wish to help make what was once a terrifying reality into opportunity.”
“To that end…” the man’s tone shifted from his usual corporate-speak to something a bit more grounded. “We have gathered you all to be enrolled in a special trial course with the hope that it can provide you with the best experience and training possible.”
“If you look around, you’ll see an expansive mix of your peers, from all the different levels of study. We have a wide variety of academic performances in this room. Some at the top of our charts that could benefit from only the best instruction that we may not be able to regularly provide, and those that show potential and have not yet lived up to it because of our broader teaching methods to make it more inclusive.”
“This will be a very focused course that will highlight your strengths and weaknesses so that we can provide the most improvement. It will last for one month. During this time, all of your other coursework and assignments will be put on hold—some outright canceled. Your sole objective is to give every ounce of your attention and effort to this class and this class only.”
“I cannot say for certain what the structure of the course will be or how your instructor will be handling his assignments and grading. He has been given free reign to run the course how they see fit, outside the bounds of the regulations that all other academy courses adhere to. I’m sure it will be unlike any other, and if all goes well, we may be able to run it again in the future.”
“To add a bit of motivation, let us get to the main reason I came here in person. It’s to offer you all a deal, the terms of which will be provided to you in writing later today. If you pass this course, by which I mean your instructor certifies your completion and competency to his discretion, then I will offer you a job.”
“Not immediately if you don’t wish, but this should be something I know a few of you desperately would want to take advantage of. Those of you who have been spinning your wheels and postponing your graduation due to lack of prospects can hopefully understand how important this chance may be. And for those who have yet to reach that point, you can consider it a safety net to ensure your future.”
“Regardless of what field you want to delve into, whether it be hunting or breeding, science or development, I as The Angler and CEO of Smooth Shores and its subsidiaries guarantee you a spot somewhere in the field you choose. And if you don’t want to join one of my enterprises, I’ll do my damndest to help you land wherever you want to plant your feet. That is what is up for grabs. I hope it is worthwhile motivation for all of you.”
“So let’s not delay any longer. We don’t want to waste a minute of your instructor’s time. He’ll only be here for a month after all. Come in, if you would.”
The man entered the room and walked over to his peer. Endless murmurs and whispers spread around the class. One of the students from earlier leaned over to the other and asked, “Do you need me to say who he is too?”
“Nah, definitely got it,” the other shunned the idea, though their eyes were still wide.
How could they not know? After all, he was the ‘greatest monster hunter alive’ whom they’d studied endless in their classes—his moves and techniques, the monster bestiary entries and survival guides he’d written. Hell, the man had practically spearheaded monster hunting as a practical profession since before it had been left to militaries and private mercenaries. Everything in the students’ worlds and education could all be traced back to that single man.
And it wasn’t the only reason for the students to be bewildered. They’d likely never seen a teacher dress so informally before. Or perhaps it was exceedingly formal. Contrary to his one other teaching position where he’d dressed like a regular person, the man was in his full combat uniform, cloak and all with his hood drawn.
While it also wasn’t uncommon for the instructors at Weathered Woods to carry a weapon around with them, it was usually stowed or sheathed, made to look as unthreatening as possible. But this man had his blades prominently displayed, attached to his wrists, ready to fight as if a monster would be bursting into the room at any moment.
“Everyone, this is The Silent Slayer, Drim Drazah,” their school’s chairman introduced their new instructor and then made a little joke. “Well, hopefully he won’t be too silent here,” The Angler let out a wry laugh before clearing his throat and moving on.
“He’s actually an old friend of mine. Of course, we actually met on a monster hunt. Embarrassingly, I didn’t recognize him at first—thought he was a rookie like the rest of you are now. But then he saved my life, a debt I can never repay. So I can attest to his skills personally. Learn from him the best that you can. Don’t let this opportunity go to waste.”
The man then turned and spoke to Drim directly. “As you requested, a class of Lessers and humans, no Fiends, all meeting the guidelines you submitted. Some of our best and brightest, and some of our most unpolished gems. If you need anything at all, I’m just a phone call away. And if any of the students misbehave, you can either reach out to the head office or deal with it however you see fit.”
“Thank you,” Drim finally spoke as the two men shook hands. The Angler then sped out of the room, heading towards his next commitment, having made this slight diversion in his schedule purely out of respect for the man and the institution.
Then the teacher who’d been left to his own devices turned to his new students, who all suddenly turned stiff in their chairs as his burning eyes met theirs.