As Jeb looked around the empty room, Declan and Margaret came rushing in.
“What happened?” Catherine asked, staring at the tables that had just been filled with people.
“Dean Aquam said that the Emporium had to close,” Jeb said with a shrug.
“Oh no!” Declan cried, wrapping his arms around Jeb. “Are you alright?”
Jeb nodded. “I suppose that it will be nice to have more time for my schoolwork again.” With that, he looked around the room and started stacking the chairs on their tables. It seemed polite to make the space ready for whoever would use it next.
Catherine and Declan joined in, cleaning down the few tables that had gotten dirty and stacking chairs themselves. As they were cleaning up, Margaret came in, dragging Philip behind her. She stopped at the entrance, noticing that the room was mostly deserted.
“My apologies,” she said, “I did not realize that the Emporium was closed at this time.”
“It isn’t normally,” Jeb supplied helpfully, “but Dean Aquam said that we had to close the Emporium.”
Margaret frowned, Glyphs and Runes starting to swirl around her. She stormed out, muttering something under her breath. Philip followed after her, carefully wiping the words out of the air when they tried to land on the wooden walls.
Declan and Catherine left a few minutes later, clearly sensing that Jeb wanted to be alone for a moment. He hardly noticed that they were gone, still processing what had just happened. The Dean’s tone as he left had almost implied that Jeb was in trouble. When the room was clean, he walked behind the bar and picked up the first barrel.
One after another, he carefully carried the barrels back to his brewing barn, noting how much smaller the space felt now that there were half a dozen barrels stacked in a corner. When there was only the final keg, already tapped, Jeb sighed and took a mug. Pouring himself a Firebeer, he took a small sip, looking out over the space.
As though the Academy knew what he was thinking, the lights slowly dimmed. Jeb breathed out, noting how little the flames he made did to illuminate the space. When he had finished the mug, he cleaned it, stacked it back with the others, and took the barrel to his brewing barn.
The next day, Jeb woke up and hurried to the dining area. He began to eat quickly, before remembering that he was not in any sort of rush. His first class wasn’t until eighth bell, and the third bell had just finished ringing.
Jeb started eating more slowly. He still finished eating well before fourth bell. With nothing else to do, he went to check on his barley crop. It was still far from grown, not that there was any rush for it anymore. Satisfied with how it was growing, he made his way to the Library, hoping to get ahead on some of his schoolwork.
In the Stacks, Jeb saw that there were still a few curses sliding off of Margaret, but nothing like the storm that had followed her out of the Emporium. He tried to focus on his work, but found that he was unable to pay attention to the derivations he wanted to make. When the bells started ringing, Jeb made his way to class.
After class, Jeb found that he was far more able to focus. By the end of the day, he was already a week ahead on his readings. The next morning, Jeb saw the Dean waiting for him in the Stacks.
“Good morning!” Jeb replied happily.
“Good morning,” the Dean replied. “You do not seem as down as I had expected.”
Jeb shrugged. “It is what it is. It will be nice to have more time for schoolwork!” he said, trying to look on the bright side.
“I regret the fact that I must add another hardship to your day, but the Disciplinary Committee has requested a meeting with you.”
“Oh!” Jeb replied, “when?”
“Tomorrow.” The Dean’s tone did not leave any room for argument.
“What do they want to meet with me about?” Jeb asked.
The Dean sighed. “Jeb, what do you imagine that a meeting with the Disciplinary Committee would concern?”
“I don’t think that I did anything wrong during my last Day Pass,” Jeb mused aloud, “and it would be strange for the Enchanting Guild to only be raising an issue now.” He trailed off, unsure what else the meeting would be about.
The Dean sighed. “Jeb, it is against Academy regulations to operate an unapproved business, among other issues.”
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Jeb nodded. “I understand,” he said. The Dean walked away, and Margaret showed up a few minutes later.
“I understand that you have a meeting with the Disciplinary Committee tomorrow?”
Jeb nodded, and she slipped between the shelves. A few seconds later, she returned. “I will be unavailable for the remainder of the day. Any questions you have can be directed to Philip or one of the other Librarians.”
She slipped between the shelves again, this time disappearing. Philip came by a few minutes later. “Is there anything that I can help with?”
Jeb shook his head and resumed working. Since there was nothing that he could think of doing to affect the outcome of his meeting with the Disciplinary Committee, he put it out of his head. The rest of the day passed quickly. The next day, he woke to a note in his door.
Reading it, Jeb nodded and started walking in the hallway that had suddenly appeared. He very rarely felt anything from the hallways in the Academy anymore. This hallway, however, felt dark and angry. Jeb shuddered a little, uncomfortable with the feeling. Once again, he was glad that he had managed to avoid fighting the Dragon.
As that thought flashed through his mind, he paused. Why had he been thinking about the Dragon? Shaking it out of his head, he continued down the hallway, which seemed to be growing longer with every passing second. Thankfully, that appeared to be an illusion, and the hallway ended a few seconds later.
Jeb found himself standing in front of a rough stone semicircle. Unlike everything else in the Academy, which felt timeless if anything, this room felt old. There was a weight to the room that reminded him just how long the Academy had been around.
Sitting behind the raised semicircle were all of the Deans, the Headmistress, and a few other people that he did not recognize. The Headmistress was seated in the center of the room, a complicated expression on her face.
“Jeb Humdrum,” she said, the stones reverberating with her voice, “do you know why the Disciplinary Committee has been convened today?”
“Maybe?” Jeb hedged, “I heard that it was something about my Brewing.”
The Headmistress nodded encouragingly. “The charges are operating a Guilded business without being a member of the requisite Guild and producing industrial quantities of a cottage good without proper licensing. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
Jeb was about to answer when the large wooden doors behind him slammed open. Margaret came barreling in, words of power floating around her.
“As no one has taken the role of Advocate, I, Margaret of the Stacks, claim the rights and responsibilities which accompany the position.”
That statement set off a brief round of murmuring from the semicircle, though Jeb could not hear what they were saying. Nobody seemed unhappy with the announcement, though no one seemed particularly pleased, either. Petra held up a hand, and the room settled.
“Very well,” she said. “Advocate, what do you say in defense of Wizard Humdrum?”
“Could you please tell me what the charges against my client are?”
Petra rolled her eyes but repeated her previous statement. “The charges are operating a Guilded business without being a member of the requisite Guild and producing industrial quantities of a cottage good without proper licensing.”
The Academy handbook was suddenly floating in front of Margaret. It flipped to a page, where she began reading.
“Being the twenty first day of-”
Headmistress Petra cut her off. “You may assume that everyone here is familiar with the text of the Academy handbook. Please summarize the relevant portion.”
Margaret nodded. “The Academy recognizes that, although many of its students are training to become specialty craftsmen, mass production of goods is a valid way to ply a trade. Students are therefore allowed to develop their Skills in whatever fashion they choose, so long as it does not conflict with any explicit Academy rule.”
Seeing that one of the Deans was about to raise an objection, she continued, “and, it was explicitly found that a student who is used to producing bulk goods may continue to do so, so long as it does not lead to any other violation of the Academy rules or regulations.”
“That is all well and good,” Headmistress Petra said, “but the production did lead to another violation of the regulations.”
Margaret held up an old and fraying piece of paper. “In my hands,” she said, voice firm and commanding, “I hold the charter of the Brewers’ Guild. As many of you know-”
Dean Aquam cut her off. “Margaret, as much as I appreciate the research that you do, would you be able to present only the relevant facts to the case?”
Margaret slumped slightly, the words fading from around her. “Absolutely, Dean Aquam,” she replied. “In short, the Brewers’ Guild has a provision for those who received the Brewing Skill somewhere other than the Capital. More or less, those Brewers are allowed to claim the rights and protections of the Guild so long as they are not displacing any other Brewer’s market and they receive a character reference from an existing member of the Guild. I have here,” she held up a newer looking piece of paper, “a letter from Lionheart Brewery supporting Jeb Humdrum’s right to practice his trade in the Capital.”
The Headmistress waved her hands, and a stone took the pages from Margaret. Petra quickly skimmed them before nodding.
“Well, then,” she said, “it appears as though both charges can be dropped.”
The tension in the room suddenly dissipated, and the other Deans started to clear out. Headmistress Petra and Dean Aquam approached Jeb, and he tensed.
“Thank you for your service,” Headmistress Petra said, nodding at the Librarian. “There were enough mitigating factors that we would not have sentenced Jeb to anything onerous, but I am glad that there was a way out that did not require punishment at all.”
Her gaze sharpened slightly, and she turned to Jeb. “If you are serious about developing your Brewing Skill, you need to be working to develop the entire Skill. I have never known a Brewer to produce a single Brew. I look forward to hearing about your progress.”
As she walked away, Jeb remembered that he had forgotten to give her a bottle of the Firebeer. Dean Aquam nodded at the two of them, but left without saying anything. Jeb turned to Margaret.
“Thank you!” he said.
She shook her head. “It was the right thing to do, and I did enjoy your Firebeer. However, the Headmistress is right. You should explore the craft more.”
She left, and the stone room started to fade into darkness. Jeb hurried out, a sense in him saying that he should not be there when the light was fully extinguished. As he jogged to the Stacks, he considered what else he could Brew.