I awoke with a parched mouth and a pounding headache. I wasn’t one to drink often, rarely more than a cup or two a year and those were usually at social functions. Last night, though, I felt inspired by a false hope that I could perhaps postpone the emotional pain of losing my friend by drinking myself into oblivion.
With a groan, I sat up and reached for the table beside my bed. On it, my servants had placed a platter with an herbal concoction for a hangover, my usual cup of Asrid Flower tea, and a serving of eggs and fruit. Outside my window, birds arrogantly chirped their happy songs completely unaware of how close their actions were to causing their own demise.
The concoction, dark green with blue swirls, was swallowed quickly. I hardly wanted to endure more of the taste than needed. Quickly, it was followed by two heavy gulps of fragrant yellow tea. Asrid Flower tea was my one and only vice. The leaves themselves offered a low boost of energy and a day-long sense of calm, at the cost of a mild addiction. In the years that I’ve lived, I’ve found that most humans require a controlled vice to properly function. Without one they fall into many uncontrolled vices that culminate to destroy their meager lives. While one may argue that elves have no such need, I would say to the human doing such arguing that I am only a half-elf, myself, and therefore potentially liable to the same weaknesses of a human. I would also argue that if they knew a full-blooded elf, which I would doubt, there would be no reason for any elf to admit any such thing to a human.
After a moment to allow the hangover cure to take effect, I plucked away a slice of pear to slowly chew as I stood and stretched. I was still wearing my wrinkled battlerobe from yesterday, not having the wherewithal to bother to change out of it this past evening. This would not do for today. Sometime last night, I had reached the conclusion that I had no further reason to live in this city. With that heavy thought in mind, I sat back down on the edge of my bed and wiped a hand down my face as I considered this decision.
A quick magical check revealed no subtle mind magics or charisma-induced thought processes. I hovered on checking my Soul Status Scroll, before disregarding the thought. No, I’d made the decision to depart on my own.
What really held me here? My closest friend was gone.
My position at the Academy? It’s been decades since I felt the thrill in instructing young human minds. With rare exception, their lives were often too short to further the magics they used. I still valued my time conducting magical research there, but I’ve long felt the social and legal constraints on my studies.
My position at the Adventurer’s Guild? With Ram’s death, I had no desire for more adventure. I’ve done more than my share of dungeon delving and monster slaying. I may still join in fighting a beast wave should it endanger something I care for, but I felt no calling to seek out such things.
The Orphanage? They did well by me when I first arrived at the city, but I’ve been supporting them for more than a century and a half. Far longer than the scant few decades they’d cared for me. There was no longer anyone who’d remember I had once been a child there. I wasn’t so lacking in self-awareness to fail to understand I’d been using the institution as a salve for my own inability to father children. While I could have adopted one or more, I still held deep-seated fears of failure induced by my own childhood. So I kept them at arms length.
My cottage? I paused to consider this. It was only a level three cottage. Sure, it was situated right against the wall to the second circle, and one of the few two-story homes to possess any real garden. A pond, fruit trees, and a separated servants’ quarters also made it a touch more valuable than other homes in the third circle. I’d gained it as a reward for my part in suppressing Tilen’s Rebellion, a gift that only cost the lives of thousands. Certainly, at the time I’d received it, it was an earnest reward for honorable work. But now? Now that I saw, year after year, how little humans valued each other’s lives? How cheaply nobles spent those beneath them? How repetitively they slew one another? Any fond memories I’d had for my cottage were long faded. It was more a quality place to sleep than it was a home I cared for.
My responsibilities to the kingdom? Ha! The kingdom lost my records during the second to last draft, and I’d had to seek the scribe out in city hall just to ensure that I wouldn’t be prosecuted for missing a draft I never received notice for. The one after that, I’d ignored when I realized I hadn’t received a summons. I doubt that I ever would be drafted again. After all, what human looks at a record over a hundred years old and thinks ‘this person will be the difference between our victory and loss!’? No, odds are any citizenship record for me is collecting dust in the archives, if it hasn’t already been purged.
I turned my shoulders back and forth, stretching my lower back, before patting my legs. First, I needed to change. I’m not sure where I'd head to, but the first step was to start pulling back from my life here. It wasn’t that I no longer grieved for Ram. No, I’ve known the rivers of grief for a long time, and it would be years before I felt normal again. Rather, I pushed those emotions down. The memory of his body, the look Lutha gave me, the wholehearted desire to collapse and let myself fall apart were all shoved harshly into a corner of my mind so that I could carry on today. I’ve helplessly watched many friends die. Adventurers and soldiers I fought beside, colleagues at the Academy, even neighbors around me. Humans have such short lives. The only difference here is that Ram was a longer-lasting, closer friend. His passing left a feeling of… finality to my life in Sena City. That, and Lutha’s words maybe hit too close for me to bear. She would get her wish not to see me again, I’d make sure of that.
I changed out of my battle robes and used a quick spell to clean myself before choosing a well-crafted dark green robe and a sash of orange silk as a belt to bind it. I selected the dark green square-brimmed hat that matched, though I had to shake the dust from it, and wipe the beaded corner tassels clean. Eighty years ago, these hats were the height of fashion for the aspiring wizard. I don’t think I’d worn it in two decades, but it reminded me of nights drinking at the pub with Ram when I used to drink more frequently.
I headed downstairs and waved goodbye to my butler Nisto, but Hertha caught me right outside the door.
“Good morning sir. Did you mean what you were saying last night or were it the cups talking?” She asked politely, but her eyes showed concern.
Hertha was Nisto’s wife and also my gardener, even if their daughter Nyra spent more time playing in the flowers and pond than I have recently. Nisto was a medium-sized but portly man with a clean-shaven face, brown hair and brown eyes. Hertha a young motherly woman, with long light brown hair and blue eyes. She upheld the standard for a classical level of pretty, for a human. I would normally call Nisto reserved and Hertha the quieter of the two, so for her to ask was a little off-putting. More so because I could scarcely remember a word I might have said to them the previous evening.
“I’m afraid that I may not have been myself last evening, Ms. Hertha. Could you refresh my memory?”
She looked warily at me a moment, as if I may have been playing a trick on her before she spoke again, “Yes, sir. You might have mentioned raining death and terror upon the Chillrest dungeon in such amounts that the kingdom itself may not survive. That mercy was no option and may fate warn any of those whom would stand in your way be they guards or kings or the gods themselves.”
While she began speaking in her normal voice, by the end of it she was most certainly doing a fair impression of me. Though, by her giggling, I knew she didn’t hold any true fear that I would act upon my drunken ranting.
I admit that I was a little embarrassed by her reenactment of my boasting, so much so that my face may have blushed red. “N-No, I think not Ms. Hertha,” I shook my head, “Though, I do plan on moving away soon, if I’d said as much.”
She nodded at me, “We thought you might. Where will you go, sir?”
“I don’t rightly know yet, but I will write you and Nisto an excellent letter of recommendation if you choose not to join me. Please inform him to seek out a few wagons to employ for my furniture, as well as begin packing away my winter garments.”
“Yes sir,” she said with a curtsey.
I turned away, walking in the direction of my first stop, the Adventurer’s Guild. I had several things to do there, including my portion of yesterday's pay, retiring, and notifying them of Ram’s passing. While I would assume the others had already informed the guild and left me my share of the spoils, I knew that humans were not always dependable for these things. Also, who knew what that damn paladin Nika may have claimed.
The walk to the adventurers’ guildhouse took an hour. Despite spring’s arrival, the past few days the city was forced to welcome a chilly breeze and a few late snow flurries. Today was little different, and while I didn’t see any snowflakes, the skies still threatened me with them. It meant planting season in the farmlands would likely be a little later than expected, and the people of the fifth ring would no doubt suffer the worst of it. In my head the thoughts circled about how poorly these humans treated each other, to call some of their own ‘unfortunate’ and restrict those to hovels and poor meals, while others live in luxury. I cursed my human mother, very briefly, for her responsibility in giving me whatever portion I have of that same need for ambition.
But I knew what I was really doing by cursing my parentage and the social practices of those around me. I was giving room for the negative emotions to air and dry. Later, after my anger was spent on useless considerations, I would be able to turn my attention inwards to consider the pain of my lost friend without the anger to accompany it. This certainly was a valid reason for me to stalk down the street muttering angrily and disregarding the paths of those around me.
By the time I’d arrived, I no longer had any more creative metaphors for the failings of men, and much of my anger felt spent. Though I knew it would return. In front of the guildhall stood a bronze statue of an armored man pinning a clawed serpent to the ground with a spear. The building itself was large, standing tall at four stories, twice the height of those surrounding it. A tall doorless archway was the entrance on the face of the building. Tall as if to proclaim that those within were of greater stature than those without. Doorless to proclaim that those foolhardy enough to try to steal from the building would not make it out. Not that I stopped to pay either the statue or the building much attention.
Inside, the first floor was a bar and kitchen and dining hall, with short round tables and sturdy chairs. The walls housed the trophies of more than a dozen monster kills, placed in-between the mounted staves and swords of the honored fallen. Each had neat little plaques describing the monster or adventurer, a wonderful idea that would have worked better if more people knew how to read. More than a dozen adventurers were seated and eating or conversing in soft tones, a few of which were wizards, though I didn’t recognize them. A wide curving staircase at the back of the room led up to the second floor, which was my destination here. I ignored those dining and quickly made my way up.
In the back of my mind, I realized that the sound of conversations hushed when I entered the first floor, but I’d paid it little attention. It was a much more profound effect when I arrived on the second floor. The staff behind counters and the adventurers waiting in line to speak with them all fell quiet. There were maybe ten adventurers standing in lines before a long counter with four clerks. A handful of men and women in armor, two clerics, a druid, and a ranger without his beast companion all took note of my arrival.
The wall to the right held posted warrants for the deaths of men and monsters, and a board to the left showed lists of quests written on tatters of cheap paper that could be plucked and brought to the counter. Both walls held a vast assortment of options to choose from. I disregarded those notices and moved forward to stand in line for an elderly clerk that looked vaguely familiar. I’d hardly been in the building more than a handful of times the past few years. When I’d accompanied Ram out adventuring, we had been part of a party of his choosing, and the guildhall already had instructions to send my apportioned share to my account at the Academy. In fact, the few times I was here was to issue quests not take them.
It was to my surprise that the four adventurers in line ahead of me all stepped to the side to allow me to pass. The clerk, a matronly woman with a weathered face, nodded her head. “Mr. Fargus, we’ve been expecting you.”
I raised an eyebrow at that, but before I could speak, she pointed a gnarled finger towards a room in the back, “The guildmaster would like to speak with you.”
I furrowed my brow to express my confusion but made my way around the counter towards the room she’d indicated. I had no cause to visit with the current guildmaster since his appointment. The last one had been a graduate of the Academy, and frequently sought me out for consultation on a myriad of concerns that stretched from new wardings on the guildhall all the way to properly disenchanting an enormous iron stag, a failed experimental golem, that had been rampaging along the coast for the better part of two years.
I was surprised when I entered—the room was completely different. It felt cramped. The wooden floor was partially covered by a plush fur of some beast, pale yellow with large red dots. At the far end, an extravagant table with stacks of papers and a single high-backed cushioned chair made of ornately carved mahogany took a third of the space in the room. In the remainder, a low stone top table with a tea set was surrounded by three low sitting decorative couches, the colors clashing with the rest of the room. I was impressed. To be able to afford three couches? It spoke of a merchant or noble background. If I owned three, I would have ensured my couches clashed as well, if for no other reason than to draw attention. The rest of the room contained numerous shelves, bookcases really, displaying shining golden and silver ornaments and curios, with a few finely carved chairs in between each case. It left little space to walk around the furniture to get to a seat.
In the room, two men sat opposite each other on the couches talking and sipping at tea. On the opposite wall, a woman sat holding a poorly bound book and making notations. They continued talking while I stood, ignoring my presence entirely, so I took the time to [Analyze] them, figuring rude begat rude.
The guildmaster was well-dressed in a brown-colored silk vest and tan-colored leggings, with sharp eyes and an oiled mustache. He gave off a stately impression as he spoke in conciliatory tones.
Name: Xi
Species: Human
Classes: 4th Tier Archer Lord level 6 / 2nd Tier Scribe level 34
The other man I vaguely recognized, moreso after I [Analyzed] him, possessed a dark countenance. High-quality leather armor covered a wiry, athletic frame. His face gave off the impression of a grizzled and experienced adventurer, and the sharp, deliberate movements he made felt as though they contained an unspoken threat of violence.
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Name: Cothram
Species: Human
Classes: 5th Tier Darkblade level ? / ???
It was rare that my analyze skill couldn’t pierce through something’s information, but even I had to be wary of a 5th tier class. This man was likely one of a scant handful in the entire kingdom. Judging by his manner of speech, which came across to me as both arrogant and condescending, he likely knew that well. Getting to that tier in the lifetime of a human was a feat unto itself. Those that did, normally never made it through legitimate methods. I doubted this man was the exception, so I maintained a cautious demeanor.
The third person in the room, a woman no doubt chosen for her beautiful appearance, wore a fashionable blouse and long skirt. She had long black hair, elegantly styled into a bun, and brown eyes that moved back and forth as she read. Though her speaking gave way to the impression that she was air-headed. While I should give her the benefit of the doubt, I’d seen enough men that owned three or more couches to know that her presence in this room had little to do with her profession.
Name: Beth
Species: Human
Classes: 2nd Tier Scribe level 88
“The, uh, guard says that Mr… um… Sig was accused of adultery. Ha! That’s funny. I thought you had to be an adult before you could become an adventurer. The Justice issued a penalty of stoning to death, but Sig claimed he was a renowned adventurer and should be spared.” The scribe said while I finished my [Analyze] of the group.
The guildmaster answered her, but seemed to be having two conversations at once, “His level and class?”
“Oh!” She began shuffling back through her book looking for the answer.
Turning away from her, Xi spoke now to Cothram, “It doesn’t look like any of the current crop of adventurers will make it past tier 3 this year. Though, I’ll be sure to inform you of any rogue classes that make it to a level of skill that could be suited towards your needs.”
Cothram snorted, “I doubt any you got here will meet my needs. Check for rangers too, though. They do skulk about sometimes.”
“Ah!” Beth exclaimed, “Here it is. He’s a 2nd tier warrior, level 88. Oh, I remember him! He’s kinda bulky, with a big smile and grey eyes. He’s one of the more respectful ones—”
“Stone him, he’s only tier two. And a warrior at that. Worth less than a gate guard in the fifth ring.” Cothram scoffed, answering for the guildmaster.
For Xi, it seemed he wasn’t going to oppose the man, though it did sound technically like Xi’s decision. A slightly inclined head offered concurrence.
“Okay!” Beth scribbled something in her book.
I took the opportunity to break into the conversion by faking a cough into my fist.
“Mr. Fargus, it is good tidings that you join us. Please have a seat.” Guildmaster Xi responded with a pleasant nod and a gesture to the one empty couch. I wasn’t going to deny the opportunity to test the furniture, as I was always interested in ways to increase the level of comfort I lived in.
I heard the scribe muttering to herself from her chair on the wall as she flipped through pages in her book, “Fargus… Fargus… Fargus…”
“I understand that you had an interesting day, yesterday. Tea?” Xi offered and gestured to the tea set. It did smell appetizing, so I nodded once and answered, “Please.”
I don’t know if it was intentional, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it was, but Cothram spoke at the same time I did, “'Interesting’ isn’t the word I would use to mean you got your people killed.”
The derision in his tone caused both the guildmaster and scribe to pause their actions for a moment before they both continued.
I pointedly ignored the man as I took the offered teacup and drank a sip. It seemed a southern tea, likely imported from the jungles. A surprisingly expensive taste, if so. That didn’t mean the tea tasted great, the taste was only mediocre.
“Yesterday, a good friend of mine, Ram Stonemouth was slain by a metallic drake. The final guardian monster in Chillrest dungeon. I am here to report this and divert any income from that delve I may have earned to his remaining family, a wife and child. Also, to file for my retirement from the guild.”
While I heard Beth scribble away in her book, Cothram scoffed. The asshole. The guildmaster, Xi, seemed to take a moment to consider this before nodding his head, and answering, “His death was already reported, and making allowances for your share should not present any difficulties.”
I waited. He waited. The scribe scribbled. The asshole chuckled.
“And…?” I provided.
“As for your retirement, we were hoping to—” Xi began, but was quickly cut off.
“You don’t look that old to me, Nemon.” Cothram butted in.
This time, I weighed my options before I answered. I doubted this man was here by happenstance. I gazed around the room, considering the items on the shelves along the wall. When I first entered, I had the impression that the guildmaster must have a heavy merchant or political background. Considering his demeanor and the presence of the tier five adventurer, then political was more likely—not that there weren’t cases of the two blending. That meant the guildmaster had some pull to bring Cothram here. Likely to pressure me to do something. Perhaps some difficult quest that required a high-leveled wizard? I turned away from that thought process. The motivations were meaningless. I would not be pressured into action I didn’t want by anyone less than the king himself, and even then it wouldn’t be without sufficient reward. No, I had to answer the pressure with pressure of my own.
I turned to look directly at Cothram for the first time since I entered the room. More specifically, I looked down my nose at the man. I could see him instantly tense. Then, I ignored him to look at Beth the scribe. “Miss Beth, could you please tell me how many years that I have been part of the adventurer guild?” My voice called to her.
“Sure! Uh…” She flipped pages in her book. Then flipped them faster.
I took another sip of my tea and watched.
“Mr.—Mr. Fargus, it doesn’t say here in my scheduling book. Oh! I bet the answer is in your scroll in the records room. I’ll go get it.”
“No, no,” I waved for her to stay seated, and turned to look at the guildmaster. If Cothram was here as the pressure, then the guildmaster was the one directing it, “Two hundred years.”
All seemed shocked. Cothram’s eyes bulged, Xi took in a deep breath, and Beth dropped her book.
“I’ve worked for and with the adventurer’s guild for two hundred years. I could have been the guildmaster for the entire kingdom ten times over. As for you,” I turned to look directly into Cothram’s eyes. His previous air of confidence no longer present, “no doubt you believe that your level and status means you could place a knife between my ribs before I could stop you. And maybe you could. What you could not do is stop the spellcraft I’ve placed on myself that will cause an earthquake to wipe this entire city from the map starting with this very building should I die.”
I let silence follow my statement as I engaged in an impromptu staring contest with the man. I was bluffing, without a doubt. I had no such spellwork on me and wasn’t irresponsible enough to do so. This man, though, wouldn’t know that, and unless his mystery second class was a higher tier than my own, he would never be able to tell.
With a clearly nervous voice, the guildmaster broke the ensuing silence, “I—I don’t think there will be any problems with your retirement. It’s certainly the least we could do for you.”
“By tomorrow.” I clarified.
“Tomorrow,” he agreed quickly, his head shaking up and down a little more than was needed.
I nodded once, set my teacup down, and left them sitting as I departed. I could have spared a witty remark to remember me by, but I just didn’t have the desire. ‘And your couch is lumpy’ might not sting him as it would have me.
It wasn’t a good feeling for me, that I had to draw upon an arrogance I didn’t feel to reach my desires. I didn’t like threatening people, least of all ignorant prideful men. The whole conversation left me feeling exhausted. Just another reason I avoided the schemes and politics of humans. They too readily forgot what I had already done on their behalf. Or perhaps I was making excuses and my anger wasn’t as spent as I thought it was.
It wasn’t until I stepped outside that I realized I should have used that moment to push for more funding for Ram’s funeral arrangement. I briefly considered going back in, but didn’t. Dwarves were known for hoarding their income in vast savings accounts, and I’d known my friend excelled in that tendency. No doubt that Lutha and their child would be well taken care of, even without the adventurers’ guild’s contribution.
It was nearly an hour when I arrived at my next destination, the Arcanum of Elementalus, or Four-Element Wizard Academy as lowborn called it. Still within the third ring, the level 4 Academy I helped found was a collection of four buildings and two towers. The primary building, for administrative staff was a domelike two-story with a walkway adorned by pillars. Each pillar was topped by an enchanted orb displaying one of the four primary elements. Behind it stood a large three-story dormitory with windows for each room, an expense I originally protested but now supported. To either side of the administrative building were two-story circular buildings housing our lecture halls. Behind them, two five-story dome-topped towers stood tall among the other city buildings, their dark blue stone shingles making a perfectly matching counterpoint to the light blue of nearly every building in the city. One tower housed a vast library that I contributed no small amount of books to, and the other contained several of our research rooms, though the more dangerous projects were often housed in a hidden basement beneath. I could smell the paper and magic from a block away.
While I would need to gather my research projects and materials from my personal room in the research tower, my first stop would be to discuss the withdrawal from my position with the school’s administration. Mostly because I didn’t want a retirement ceremony put together, least of all from a staff of teachers that barely knew me.
A brief chat with Mira, the head scribe for the school led me to a fine chair in front of Scot’s desk. Scot being the head administrator, a teacher, a colleague and—once—a student of mine. Where Mira was a mousey woman with short grey hair in her sixties, Scot still had the salt and pepper color in his hair. Tall and thin, with a younger demeanor even though he was pushing past his fiftieth year. Or so I estimated.
His office, appropriately named the Dean’s office—might be that I was unaware of the change in title for the position from head administrator to dean—seemed to be the perfect example of a professional teacher. A wall on the right was covered by a bookshelf housing the standard advanced magical books needed for a 3rd tier magic-user. On the left were a few enchanted paintings of famous students and teachers. A crystal ball, magical orbs being a well-known bane to many magic-users’ social aspirations, sat prominently on the corner of his desk. I doubted he felt any pride in its placement, likely having to hide his shame in its presence in order to maintain a façade in the face of ignorant parents. No magic user in his right mind would be found holding or using a crystal ball. The very thought made me want to shudder.
“Nemon, this is a surprise. What can I do for you?” He asked with an honest smile. I remembered his father had a smile just like it.
“I will be withdrawing from my responsibilities here in the next few days,” I answered him, hoping my tone was pleasant.
“Withdrawing?” He asked surprised. It seems news of Ram’s death hadn’t made it here, or if it had no one thought it would lead to this decision.
To be fair, I’d been here since before the first day of the academy, and they likely thought of me more as a permanent fixture than anything else. I didn’t doubt the Arcanum would continue to do well in my absence, as I had already pulled back my involvement to only teaching a few more advanced students that helped with my research.
“Indeed. Tomorrow I will be closing my projects out, to either continue elsewhere or destroy.”
He hesitated, “You weren’t hired by another school, were you? If so, I think we can—”
“No.” I waved away his concern. “This is merely a choice that needs to be made. A wizard of my standing needs to have a tower and spend some time in it, don’t you think?” I wouldn’t work with any of the other academies no matter how much they paid me. I’ve seen what those students come out learning, it’s disgusting! And while I spoke the words about the tower as a jest, once they were spoken, I realized that I did want a tower. Inside, I felt just as surprised as Scot looked. And to think, earlier I was considering myself fully self-aware. This ignorance of my own desire must be from my human side.
After looking surprised, Scot looked relieved. “I see, and I think I understand. A wizard’s tower? They are quite rare. Will it be near the city?”
I shook my head. The kind of research I wanted to do would have kingdom officials watching me closely. Not that it was unethical, but that I doubted very much they wouldn’t seek to turn my studies towards military matters. The last time one of my studies had been made public, it led to some noble holding his commoners in cages to be used as experimental fodder. I only learned of it when the kingdom sent a tax collector for the fine that resulted. Apparently, the villagers lost were worth four hundred gold altogether. It was a disappointing discovery. And why did I have to pay instead of the Baron responsible? Because Barons are never responsible for things like that, of course.
“I take it you don’t already have a tower. Do you know where you will settle?”
I thought about it. If I was leaving here, I wouldn’t be heading North. There was already talk of war, and if it came to that, then a wizard’s tower on the border would be a prime target for either a new fortress or an attack. The eastern coast was also uninteresting to me. While I enjoyed experimenting on the odd ocean creature as much as the next mage, I don’t think I wanted to be near to more than one of those mysteries at a time. The hot weather of the south was also a deciding factor for me.
“I’m not certain yet, but I’m thinking of going west.”
“Eistoni? Or beyond?” He raised his eyebrows.
The kingdom consisted of five major divided areas, with the capital city of Sena in the very center and one in each of the four cardinal directions. With the exception of the monarch’s lands in the center, each of those four were ruled by a Duke, and their ducal province named after the family. Eistoni made up nearly a third the size of the entire country but held maybe a twentieth of the population. Often the westernmost estates were called the hinterlands because unlike to the north and south, there were no known competing kingdoms in that direction. Only a chain of mountains and no one knew what was on the other side.
“Yes, Eistoni most likely. It would be ideal to have a few baronies between my tower and the wilds of the hinterlands, though not close enough for a tax collector to easily find me,” While I was joking about the tax collecting, I also wasn’t. I still remembered one king that tried to tax urinating to fund a better sewer system.
Scot happily bobbed his head in some kind of gesture of acceptance or agreement, “My father did mention that you were originally from out that way.” He said offhandedly before he began searching for something within his desk drawers.
He wasn’t aware, but that comment made me freeze. I was from out that way. I had forgotten. I vaguely recalled my human mother having a tower. How could I forget? It would be thoughtless of me not to look into that.
“Here,” he sat up from where he’d been leaning over into a drawer behind his desk. In his outstretched hand rested a shimmering gold crystal. I knew what it was before I even analyzed it.
[Tower building crystal: Class B] [Insert mana and designate a location to construct]
“My father had it prepared for you before he passed. I’ve been holding on to it for thirty years.” A half-smile crossed his face as Scot sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.” I smiled back, “Now, to the mundane. I’ll expect the accounts I have on file with the school to be closed, with the exception of the orphanage program. I do have a few outstanding debts that will be charged to my accounts, so perhaps in… two years? Yes, two years should be an appropriate time to close them. Any remaining funds can be added to the orphanage program.”
I began listing my more taskworthy desires, and Scot began writing them down in a booklet he’d taken out.
“We’ve had many good students come to us from that program. I doubt the school would discontinue it even if you withdrew your funding.” He offered. “I take it you don’t plan on returning?”
I shook my head. I did notice the slight look of greed in his eyes. What was I forgetting? Oh!
“I will be personally keeping my research on constructing a longevity spell.”
That greedy little light went out. Disappointment was quickly hidden away. I should have known. Forty years ago, I had become particularly aggrieved with the way my human colleagues kept dying out on me. Certainly, it had nothing to do with falling in love. I began research into a spellwork that would allow them to live longer, I made some small progress, nothing was ever completed. The closest I had reached was a forty-year-old dog, but it kept growing in size until strange growths on its skin and organs turned it into a level 20 [Abomination]. I wasn’t about to risk that occurring to anyone. Especially anyone I cared about.
It seemed like we were done, but I didn’t want to leave on such a thought. So, I tossed the man an idea, “Oh, I will be selling my cottage. It seems like the Arcanum could use a dedicated home to house its dean.”
I wasn’t offering this entirely out of the goodness of my heart. I had several elaborate warding spells guarding my home, some of which I have forgotten over time. I’d have to search them all out and dispel or disenchant the entire property if it wasn’t purchased by a mage familiar with my spellwork. That the greedy little light in Scot’s eyes came back quickly didn’t cause me to feel any unease about the offer.
A few more minutes of polite conversation concerning the price I might be asking for it and an agreement to return tomorrow to sign any paperwork concluded our meeting.
Afterward, I took a moment to stand in the courtyard between the administrative building and the dormitory thinking to finalize my feelings on the Arcanum with one last good look. I considered my emotions and realized I actually felt a little relief about the matter. No longer would I need to feel responsible for its success or protecting its students from the more powerful dangers. With a light step, I took the pathways to lead me back home to my cottage.