"It took the God King only one hundred and twelve thousand years to accomplish his goal of total domination of the last remaining great empires. With the fall of Savakin, came the end of the purge, as well as the end of any reasonable resistance to his rule."

Professor William Eskrahbel scribbled down the names of the fallen empires as he spoke, crossing out each one as he mentioned them. The last to go was the Empire of Savakin, leaving Uundah-Wonrahdan as the last remaining power. The Empire was better known as the underworld, though the influence had spread far beyond the capital lands at the northern pole of the Hollows.

He turned to face the class with a pleasant smile. The smile faded once he took in the students before him, and spotted one of them holding his hand high in silence. Eskrahbel sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yes Murphy, what did I fail to mention this time?" He asked in annoyance.

Standing, Murphy silently pointed at his mouth and tilted his head.

The professor grunted and made a gesture with his hand, releasing Murphy from his silencing spell.

"What about the Tavern?" Murphy asked without skipping a beat.

Eskrahbel closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. "Do you care to elaborate, professor Eseyfirr," he responded snidely.

"Gladly," Murphy said through a smile. He climbed atop his desk to be better seen by the class, prompting a collective groan from his fellow students.

"You said that Uundah-Wonrahdan is the last remaining power. The Tavern might not be an Empire, but they certainly keep the influence of the Underworld from taking over entirely."

"The treaties in place between the Tavern and the Dark Towers is something entirely different," the actual professor scoffed.

"Not really," Murphy argued. "If the Tavern wasn't a world power, why would the Underworld bother cooperating with them?"

"You call that cooperating?" A student two rows behind him barked. "It's capitulation if you ask me. Good source of strong slaves when you shop at the Tavern."

He turned to see a middle aged human man looking at him with mocking perplexity.

"If you get caught ten chip outside of the badlands with a medallion on you, the Elves will still take you into their cages."

"Dark Elves," another student corrected. "There's a big difference between those mongrels and the rest of us."

"Oh shove off and sip some milk, you pointy eared gonban," the first student spat.

The man's name was Dorah of Greenpoint, and he was often insufferably argumentative. Murphy figured the man's days were numbered, since he'd been recently quite outspoken on his opinions of the Elves.

"Gentlemen, please," the professor interrupted, slapping his cane onto his desk. "The rule is clear. I won't have you debating the values of your kind. Would you let the Warlock speak so he can sit back down and go back to leaving us alone."

Murphy turned back to Eskrahbel and smiled. "Thank you, professor," he said with a nod.

"If you don't buy into Dorah's paranoia, the Tavern is a clear example of a world power. Medalled adventurers might still be nabbed sometimes, but the Tavern has launched plenty of rescues into Underworld land."

"Yeah, if you're important enough," Dorah scoffed quietly.

Murphy turned to face him again. "Well maybe you should try and be more important, Dorah," he said in a condescending tone.

"That may be, Murphy," the professor said, catching his attention again. "But the Tavern still isn't a central body. It's made up of many factions, each with a different set of ideals and goals."

"And I suppose the Dragon-Harts are just a myth then," Murphy rebutted.

"Depending on who you ask," Eskrahbel said, seemingly amused. "But yes, of course they're real. They govern and enforce the rules of the Tavern, it's hardly the same as a unified body."

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"Is it?" Murphy asked with a smirk. "Because last I checked, a bunch of stand alone authorities following the decree of their employer, is just the same as kings to an Empire."

The professor squinted at him, scowling in the way that bought the Warlock so much joy.

"Listen here you little shit," he said eventually, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Standing in the doorway was a young woman in neat clothing. She was dressed the same way she always did, making her stand out in a sea of armour and cloaks. Her tidy appearance screamed administration, and the way she addressed anyone was further confirmation to the suspicion. Her bright white shirt was a compliment to her smooth olive skin, and the tight black skirt framed the rest of her perfectly. She adjusted her glasses, and moved her hair to show her face clearly. The light in the window fell on her in just the right way, sending all of the men in the room into a trance.

"Can I help you, young lady," the professor asked, suddenly sounding quite the gentleman.

"Good morning professor. I'm here to make your day easier," she said politely, pointing at the Warlock still standing on the desk.

"What do you want with him?" Eskrahbel asked, looking between the two of them in confusion.

"I could leave him here if you'd prefer," she offered.

"Now I didn't say that, did I?" He responded with a hint of desperation. "Murphy, you're dismissed. Run along and let the rest of us get back to actually learning."

Murphy jumped down from the desk, and grabbed his satchel. "We can talk about this later I suppose," he slung the bag onto his shoulder. "For now though, class dismissed," he said, taking a bow.

"Stay where you are," the professor said, pointing at a student that was starting to stand.

~~

After they'd left the history building, Margo finally broke her silence. He'd been pestering her throughout the halls, but she wouldn't even give him the time of day. It wasn’t that she was angry with him for anything in particular, it was just that he couldn't help but be so Murphy all the time.

"If we're going somewhere for someone to yell at me, you should let me know now. I need to practise my sad face in advance," he told her.

She stopped, sighed, then turned to face him.

"How are you going with your little problem?" She asked, pointing at his eyes.

"My face has never been a problem in the past," he joked. He knew what she was talking about, but the topic still stung a little.

It had been nearly a year since he'd returned home from his journey, and nearly two since his fight with the king of storms. In that time, he'd spent a lot of time and energy on trying to regain his gift to see magic. There was no dedicated book on the issue, since his power was something quite unique. He'd focused a lot of his research on dragon magic, but most avenues were complete dead ends. Dragon magic was little understood, even by the dragons.

Callus was no help in the matter either. Murphy couldn't hold that against him though. The old man wasn't even a Warlock, so inherent powers weren't something he'd ever bothered to understand very deeply. The cranky Merlin had however promised to look into it, so Murphy was hopeful that there was still a light at the end of the tunnel.

"I take it you're not doing well then," she said simply. "There might be someone that can help."

Murphy felt his heart pound in his chest, but tried not to show his excitement. "Did Callus find someone?"

"Not exactly," she said, with a hint of hesitation.

"Don't tease me Margo, you know I get grouchy," he said with total seriousness.

"It will be easier if I just take you. I don't want you having one of your brilliant ideas."

Murphy gasped in mock surprise. "You think my ideas are brilliant?"

"I think you're an idiot," she said, turning to continue walking.

"If I promise not to act on any ideas, would you tell me?" He asked, rushing to catch up with her.

"Not a chance. It's not worth the risk." She replied coldly.

"How rude," he scoffed. "Next time I get a good idea, I'm leaving you out of it."

"It's my job to know about your dumb ideas. I'm stuck with them."

"Are you saying you can't quit me?" He joked.

She groaned quietly, and started to walk faster.

"Well I have to go get Uundah," he insisted, changing the topic. "I can't meet the mystery guest without him."

She nearly smirked. "You’re definitely not meeting a guest."

"Do they live in Son-Gonkiruun?" His excitement was clear in his voice by now.

"He's lived here for a long time," she said casually.

He looked around to see her face, noticing the hint of a smile on her glossy lips. "You’re enjoying this, aren't you Margo."

"There's nothing to enjoy," she said, pulling a stern face again.

"Alright, robot lady," he said, falling back behind her. "I still need to get Uundah though."

"Fine," she sighed.

She stopped, and pulled a notebook and pen from the waist of her skirt. She scribbled down an address, and pushed the paper at him.

"Don't be longer than an hour. He can be a little impatient sometimes."

He read the address and smiled. He knew exactly which Tavern to go to. He could get Uundah and be at the Silver Tip in half an hour. He might even have the time to get a drink.