“Magister,” the smooth, baritone voice oozed authority, floating towards the Magister, whose heart pounded heavily within his chest.

“Yes, Archmage?” Magister Morris replied, his voice clear and firm, though he could already feel the Archmage stab into his pride.

“What is a beast doing within our grounds?” The Archmage’s eyes remained firmly fixated upon a tiny green figure, who shuffled while hugging her very normal sized tomes, which was to say, they were utterly massive within her half sized form. The sickly green skin, the sharp pointed ears, those rotund eyes which protruded like buns left to rise for too long. She wore the grey robes of a student, though her collar was neither red, yellow, or blue, but the same grey as her robes.

“She is a student from our… cultural outreach.”

The Archmage, a statue of the archetypical Archmage, almost Merlin himself, with long loose robes, a giant staff made of one kind of ancient wood which was certainly the best kind of ancient wood, with the best kind of origin story, a long ghost white beard which fell down to his navel, neatly brushed with snobby magics. His skin was wrinkled with rivers of indented flesh, though otherwise clear of blemishes, no doubt thanks to his connected to the Weave, one of the various sources of magic.

“How much?”

“Ten thousand gold,” the Magister replied, his staff made of wood not quite as ancient, his robes not quite as loose, his beard not quite as long or white, and his face not quite as wrinkled with age, though he was still a man in his fifties.

The Archmage’s thick brows raised, giving up the thoughts upon his face for once, the elderly fellow blinking. ‘Ten thousand gold? An astonishing mountain of gold coins to allow a goblin within the First Branch of the Grand Academy of Grand Mages and Grand Magics.

“It is still a beast, Magister. Do we not have some standards?”

“The coin was paid, the contract signed, the blood spilled,” Magister Morris replied, his voice growing slightly louder.

Archmage Percivals lips pursed tight. There was little he could do if the Magister spoke up, and he was in no position to quibble with the fellow, not when it was his branch of the Academy. ‘How ridiculous.’ “This shall be a mark against your funding from the Grand Academy of Grand Mages and Grand Magics.”

“As a branch, we must accept coin from a diverse array of sources. As long as the Grand Academy of Grand Mages and Grand Magics is paid its dues…”

“Protocol Sixty Seven, I am familiar, Magister.” ‘I told that blasted Archmage that protocols sixty to seventy were not required.’

While the Magister of the First Branch of the Grand Academy of Grand Mages and Grand Magics led Archmage Percival through the Academy, the only building made of red brick within Crestfall, another admired its architecture from outside.

‘Do they not get enough sun for a dome?’ Hashim thought, his eyes glued to the building from outside, the young man barely able to contain his excitement as smoke began to float out from the corners of his wide toothy grin.

“Hashim,” the woman called, reaching up to the teen’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “Uncle has paid much coin for you to go. You cannot waste, yes?”

“I understand, mother, I won’t-,”

“Jotish, Hashim.”

Hashim cleared his throat, switching to the Jotish tongue. “Yes, mother. I understand. I will not squander this chance.” ‘It’s not quite as impressive as the Silver Roc Academy, but it is a wizard’s academy…’

“If you are blue, you must complain. My boy looks handsome in red and yellow, yes?” The woman smiled, tenderly brushing the boy’s warm cheek.

“Blue matches my brass scales, mother,” the teen replied, flashing his pearly white smile, which contrasted his almost bronze skin, and the brass scales against the side and back of his neck, which fell into his grey robes.

“Keep your plaque. If someone confronting you, you show, okay? If they are still confronting, you must tell your uncle.”

Hashim flushed slightly, noting the look within his mother’s amber eyes, which revealed the uncertainty of her words. ‘We’ve already asked uncle for so much. Since it eases his guilt, I should keep leaning on him.’ “I will-,”

“Jotish!”

“I will, mother.”

The woman brought her son within a deep embrace, gently rocking with him. The boy flushed a deeper red, but he understood that this moment of embarrassment would pass, and if he refused, something more embarrassing would come to plague him.

“I will send the silver to dwarves. You remember?”

“Ironhands.”

“Ironfists, you kachur!”

“Jotish, mother,” Hashim smirked, his mother gently slapping his arm, before the pair embraced once more. “I will see you in three years, mother.”

“You must write.”

Hashim flashed the smile he had learnt from his late father, and quickly scurried towards the open gates, feeling his mother’s gaze upon his back. ‘Three years…’ Hashim’s heart pounded heavily within his chest, already feeling a chill enter his body. It was the first time he would spend so much time away from his family, an entire sea away from his family. ‘Three years is enough to learn some magic, then I’ll come home.’

Hashim’s eyes darted all around the Academy’s red brick walls, stepping through one archway, then into another. He had already been informed of the directions to the office, and using his great perceptiveness of taking out his tiny map with the Academy’s layout, he marched through the halls towards a particular section.

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“It should be satisfied with doing that much work,” a student with a blue tie said, smirking towards the rest of her companions.

“What else is it good for?” another replied, causing the small gaggle of students to fall into haughty laughter.

THE SECOND MINOR SECOND OFFICE

Hashim stepped into the office, which was more like a library than an office, except it was extremely cramped, the walls made of bookshelves which blocked the rest of the world, with just enough space for him to sit in front of the oak desk. The musty smell of old books invaded his nostrils, though considering how used he was to his mother’s spicy cooking, such a smell could not take hold like it did within the nose of a Jotishman.

‘The Chronicles of the Seven Saints?’ Hashim thought, glancing towards a book which rested upon the desk beside the silver bell. He reached for the bell, wondering if he was meant to press it. ‘No, no, I should wait a moment, since patience is a virtue. Will the Jotish men say that efficiency is a virtue? How foolish, the only efficiency you should have is upon the battlefield. A hurried plan causes great disasters.’

Whilst overthinking, Hashim didn’t notice the tiny green hand upon the desk, before a head popped up from under the desk, with large amber eyes staring through large, round, thick glasses.

“Hello!”

Hashim’s entire body tensed up, his scales tightening against his flesh for a moment. He almost reached for the blade at his side, only to find the blade lost to his memories now that he was in a wizard school. ‘A…’

The goblin smiled up towards the Tamilian teen, noting how dark his skin was compared to the Jotish she was familiar with. The Tamilian teen noted the tattoo against her forehead, that of five rays emanating from a diamond.

“Are you a new student?” the squeaky voice asked.

“Yes. I was told to report to the second minor second office on the ground floor.”

“Yep,” the goblin girl said, brushing her curly chestnut locks behind her leaf shaped ear, before she slipped out a piece of paper from under the desk with librarian precision, before focusing her mind and a quill and ink pot flew onto the table. “What’s your name?”

“Hashim Al Zadin.”

“Al Zadin?” the goblin asked, her hand freezing for a moment upon the paper, after writing his first name, before she continued. The Black Lion?”

Hashim’s lips formed a small smirk. “He is my uncle.”

The girl’s amber eyes expanded under her thick glasses, her eyes threatening to swallow her glasses whole. “Forcing Kajabar the Destroyer to step back is impressive.”

“You know of the tale?”

“I know of Black Lion's tales,” the girl confirmed, her lips forming a small smirk. Of course she knew the tale, since she was who she was. “He was a guard who became a sellsword when he found the documents left behind by a Magister of an ancient order. He was almost killed by Dagor the Storm of Chaos, but he managed to live and became strong enough to force Kajabar the Destroyer back. He’s now the Captain of the Ceremonial Red Scarf Blades, even though the Mawar doesn’t like him.”

Hashim’s brows darted upwards enough to write all the rules within his student guidebook above his eyelids. “How do you know so much about my uncle?” ‘How does she know the Mawar does not like him?’

“I am Rin, granddaughter of Rami, of the Akavari.”

“You’re Akavari?” Hashim’s asked incredulously.

The goblin pointed towards her forehead tattoo, her eyes full of pride as she puffed out her chest.

‘How can a goblin be an Akavari? Human and drakon, certainly, but a goblin?’ “You should be careful, the Akavari will not appreciate you saying that.”

Rin frowned, inhaling deeply, but she did not speak further of the topic. She assisted his application, taking in his details, writing them down exactly as he stated them, before having him prick his finger so he could stamp a coin with his fingerprint. The tiny goblin then guided him around the Academy.

“These are the new dorms, a hundred new rooms for students from the Grand Cultural Outreach Initiative, or GCOI, although if someone asks you if you’re a gikoi, it means you’re a part of the program. The dorms are separate from the main building. Breakfast is at six in the morning and every hour after that until nine. Lunch starts at eleven, or every hour until two. Dinner is at four, and every hour until seven. You may cook your own food, as long as you follow the rules between pages seventeen and thirty two of the dorm guidebook, which should be found on your bed. You can procure tea from the cafeteria at any time, though you need to swipe your badge. Tea is unlimited, but if you are found abusing the system, an Administrator may come speak with you. The best way to bypass the inspection is to ask to borrow someone else’s badge.”

“Are you sure you should be telling me that?”

“The Administrator informed us of it in front of the Magister.”

“Oh.”

The goblin continued to lead him around, even to the dorm, in which she had shown him how to position his furniture to gain more space, but also so many other useful tips when it came to food, budgeting, and even how to maximise his time studying with a technique she dubbed as antonap, to study with a timer as though you were napping for twenty minutes at a time with a short break, except you studied instead of napping.

‘Are all goblins this smart?’

Rin spent the next week assisting Hashim to settle within the Academy, taking her to the nearby market.

“The mixture has too much blue quarts with the white pearl,” Rin stated, her eyes glued to the mixture within her pouch.

“I split it equally among the ten pouches,” the pale skinned Jotish merchant replied, his eyes covered in black make up, hiding his exhaustion from the world. He sniffed the air, scratching his nose, already feeling the need to snort some more of his purple powder.

“It should be one pearl for every ten blue quarts, but this mixture is closer to one pearl for twelve parts of blue quarts.” Rin’s eyes remained focused on the shinies.

The sweet shinies.

The glimmering, precious shinies.

She clenched her fist tight in hand to distract her from her thoughts. “The Academy paid one hundred and fifty gold for the pouches, fifteen gold for each pouch, paid bimonthly at three hundred gold on the second sekday of the second month in every season, five seasons a year, paid to worker Aris, with the sanguine flat cap.”

“…” The merchant didn’t like how accurate the girl was with the deal between himself and the Academy. ‘One part to every twelve parts was a little too greedy…’

Hashim wasn’t sure how the girl had spotted such a minute detail between their pouches, while following after her.

“Even though the mixture would have been fine for the summoning ritual, it’s best to be exact with the measurements, otherwise we might summon a different type of creature, or a creature from a lower tier,” Rin explained, before going on to explain more about how a black pearl was better, but also cost almost ten times as much for only a slight bonus to the chances of summoning a creature from a greater tier.

Rin chanted words of the arcane as she tapped into the weave, flicking her so quickly Hashim almost missed it. The three missiles, formed of arcane power, disappeared into nothingness while the goblin casually continued with her conversation about how amber was cut into coins to form a higher unit of currency than gold coins.

Hashim’s head snapped towards the other students, who had blasted the magic towards the girl, which would have grievously wounded her if she hadn’t stopped it. ‘What?’

“The King and his entourage are arriving in the city soon,” Rin explained while Hashim worked up the courage to ask what had just happened.

“Right…” Hashim glanced back again, noting the students had already disappeared further into the Academy. “Is it for… Crown Day?”

“Yes.”

Hashim inhaled deeply. His mind was distracted by the fact he could see the Jotish King, who was, almost, as impressive as the Mawar of Tamil. ‘Will I be able to see the Divine Blade t-,’

Hashim’s body moved by itself as he heard the unmistakable click in the distance, diving forward as a bolt of cool, mundane steel threatened to pierce the goblin. Unlike a Magic Missile, a steel bolt could not be dismissed with a simple Shield spell.

While fresh sanguine pooled within the Academy, it was a quiet day within a particular household. An old woman with a tattooed forehead knitted away while the one and two year olds napped away quietly. The thread between her needles snapped.