“Die, monster! You won’t get me this time!” Blud shouted as he prepared a spell. Sean, Sophia, and Rald all did the same. 
Carly peered into the darkness, “Blud!” She shouted, making his bolt go wide, “Look closer!”
	“Huh?” The goblin carefully stepped forward, the ‘butcher’ was unmoving. The scent of burning stung his nose. With his ability to see in the dark, he could see smoke coming from the butcher. 
	“Monster?” A voice choked out as the form fell to their knees, bright orange flames wreathed around them. 
	“San!” Blud shouted as he rushed toward her, “San? What are you doing out here!?” He was careful not to touch her.
	“Blaad think I’m monster?” She sobbed, tears rolling down all four eyes.
	“No! No!” He insisted, “I thought you were someone else!” With a deep breath, the goblin reached through the fire and wrapped his arms around her neck. He grunted in pain but the shock of the hug stopped her weeping. 
Almost instantly, the flames died down and she hugged him back. The sectare woman was positively beaming from the hug, “Blaad telling truth?”
	“Yeah, I am,” He groaned, “You just spooked me.”
	“San,” Rald stepped forward, “What are you doing out here?”
	Reccoa stood, picking up Blud in her arms, her excitement still plain to see, “Hunting. Bear problem in woods. I eat.”
	Sean nodded, “So there is someone keeping the bears in check. Is this woman our killer?”
	Carly was quick to shake her head as she went through the photos she took, “This ‘San’ woman looks taller than the Butcher. She’s wider too.”
	“Not killer,” She nodded, “Just slayer of bears. Meat is good. Heard boom and ran over.”
	“Well, welcome to the ABUG,” Carly smiled, “Come on, we’re running out of time.”
	“Hold on, San, give me my brother. He’s got a few burns,” Rald said.

	The need to sneak had been tossed aside. Reccoa led the group after everyone was quickly introduced. The sectare woman was quick on her feet, briskly walking as she spoke Japanese to her now visible familiar. Blud and Rald were right behind her, they all could smell the blood in the air. The goblins had to jog to keep up with the beetle woman. Close behind was Sean, Carly, and Sophia, “She is like a bloodhound,” The president of abjuration noted, “It is extraordinary.”
	Sophia nodded, “I thought I could smell well, but her abilities are much above mine. This cold is making my nose runny and sore. Even the goblins are better off than I.”
	Sean turned to Carly and Sophia, “Do we have a plan?”
	“Smash and grab. Take the butcher dead or alive,” Carly was preparing a video camera, “And get the scoop of the century. Maybe we’ll get medals. Or better yet, I’ll get a Jerald Anderson Journalistic Award for Investigative Journalism! I’ll hit it big time! I won’t need this wizarding stuff anymore!”
	“You… have no desire to be a wizard?” Sophia was shocked, taken aback even.
	“Puh-lease, Sophia. You know I don’t stack up to people like you, or hell, even Blud and Rald. I’ve been struggling to get my general magic degree for six years,” Carly sighed dejectedly, “I never really wanted this.”
	“I… see…” Sophia pulled her hat down, “I can’t imagine living without magic.”
	“That’s because your mom is a famous wizard. You’ve probably been around it all your life. Newsflash: not all of us have magically inclined parents. I just won the lotto and got a bit of wizarding mana. Not enough to be a master, ever, but too much to not hone it. I have to supplement a lot of my downsides with tech, hence all the cameras and junk.”
	Sean frowned, “We do not see many like you at this academy. I am sorry we have been lacking on our accommodations,” He retrieved a pen and pad from his pocket, “Do you believe there is aught we can do to alleviate this issue for the future?”
	Carly sighed and chuckled, “It’s not the school, Sean. It’s me,” Sean looked dejected, clearly upset that he was unable to do anything. Regardless, he nodded and put his writing utensils away. Even if she had said it was her fault, Sean was already thinking of tutoring programs. Manus had said how good her tutoring with Galahad was going. 
	“Would you all pipe down and take this seriously? We’re after the Butcher, remember?” Rald snapped.
	“Guys!” Blud’s hushed call roused the group as the goblin waved them forward, “Look!” 
	In the distance the group of six spied a shack. The paint, once vibrant red, was peeling horribly. The windows were broken, the front door was slightly ajar, and a few drops of blood were leading into the building. Carly used her thermal camera, “I see some traces of illusion heat. This must be the place. Ready?”
	Everyone in the ABUG had different looks on their faces. Sophia and Rald were quite nervous. Blud and Sean were apprehensive, but Reccoa and Carly were much more excited than the rest thought they should be. With a few looks at one another, the group approached the shack.

	CREEEEEAK
	The door to the dilapidated shack groaned as it was gently pushed open by Carly. The frigid wind blew in behind the group, letting flakes of snow in to cover the torn apart entry mat. The scent of blood and death made the goblins’ and sectare’s stomachs rumble. Rald grimmaced, sometimes she wished she could find regular food as delectable as blood and gore, goblin instincts be damned. The group followed Carly in who was already waving a video camera around, “I am now inside the Butcher’s murder shack. If someone finds this video, show the world that I, Carly Halestorm, have found where the Butcher drags his victims.”
	Sean raised his staff, lighting up the tip with a single word of power. A light blue glow was cast over the room. There was a rocking chair in the corner, a grandfather clock that had long since stopped ticking and was covered in cobwebs, a table, and a few chairs were on the other side of the room. There was a rug on the floor that was just as deteriorated as everything else. Sophia’s ears twitched, “There’s rats all over,” She whispered as a shiver ran down her spine.
	“Rats schmats. We’ve got a killer to catch!” Blud punched the palm of his other hand, “Three doors. Let’s split up,” He decided.
	“Blud, shut up,” Rald hissed.
	“Horrible idea,” Sean scoffed.
	“We should really, really stick together,” Sophia pleaded as she closed the door behind them.
	“Sheesh, alright,” Blud sighed, “Just trying to get some levity in this musty-ass house.”
	“I stick with Blaad,” Reccoa announced.
	Rald nodded as she scooted closer to Sean, “Keep him out of trouble, please.”
	“All of you, shush,” Carly hissed, “He’ll hear us. Beetle lady, do you smell anything?”
	“Her name is San– Reccoa, Carly,” Blud grunted.
	“Does it matter!?” She gave him an exasperated look, “Just tell me where the killer is, lady!” 
	“Uhm… killing… yessums,” Reccoa blinked all four of her eyes and smelled the air, “All around us. I smell it.”
	Carly rolled her eyes, “Can it with your mysticism, sorcerer,” The journalist glanced at all three doors. Each was identical, two on the left wall and one on the right, “Here!” She grabbed the one on the right and flung it open. A horrible stench hit her nose, making her gag and retch as she struggled to get away. 
	Sophia raised her staff, quickly casting a cleansing spell to clear the stench from the air, “Delish-table!” Reccoa’s eyes grew wide as she hurried into the room, still smelling the scent over Sophia’s flowery spell.
	“San! Don’t run off!” Blud groaned as he followed her into the room. Sean and Carly plugged their nose, the scent spell doing very little to cover up the stench.
	“What is that smell?” Carly gagged as she struggled to follow the goblin and sectare.
	Rald smelled the air, “Orcish cooking. That’s why it smells like death and gore,  because that’s what it is!”
	Sean blinked slowly, “Orcs have their own cooking style?”
	Sophia’s fear was replaced with shock and confusion– at least for a moment, “Really? You don’t know about–” She shook her head, “Never mind.”
	“What do you see?” Carly asked, waving her camera around the room. 
	Reccoa and Blud were at the far corner of the dark room. It was a tiny kitchen. The oven had been ripped out, the fridge was covered in a red substance, and a cauldron sat in the middle of it, “Weird…” Carly pointed the camera right at the cauldron with a frown, “Did the Butcher boil his victims? What do you see, Blud?”
	“Orcish cooking,” He pulled the remains of a bloody, gory dish from the freezer. Somehow, it still had power, “Not really fresh.”
	“Heavy use,” Reccoa pointed to the cauldron after smelling it.
	“Ugh, just put it back,” Carly gagged, “Let’s try another door.”
	“Agreed,” Sean scowled as Sophia tried another sweet smelling spell spray that she shot all over the kitchen door after it was closed. The scent of gore was finally over powered by the smell of flowers. The group looked around, struggling to decide on which of the two to open.
“That one!” Carly grabbed the handle for the closest one and threw it open. She shrieked almost instantly as white bones tumbled, crashing at her feet. 
	“Bones?” Reccoa picked up a few and whacked them against the couch, sending dust up into the air.
	Rald picked up an arm bone. running her fingers over its dry surface, she felt something oddly bumpy, “A carving?” She grabbed the butt of Sean’s staff and turned it, lowering the bright blue bulb down to her, “A lot of carvings,” She murmured and scratched her head.
	“Not carvings,” Sean gazed at the curving, deep gouges, “Runes. Magic…” A thought flashed in his mind, “Skeletons!” He shouted.
	Just as he predicted, a full human skeleton popped out of the sea of bones. It rattled as it stepped towards Carly, wielding a rusty dagger. The journalist fell on her butt, dropping her camera from the shock. Blud was quick, shooting a small firebolt from his hand into the skeleton’s rib cage, the magic erupting from its chest and sending the bones in all directions, “You alright?” Reccoa asked as she picked Carly off the floor.
Carly snatched up her camera and held it at the ready, “I’m fine,” She got a few good shots of the bones.
The bones of the skeleton that Blud had blasted began to rattle along with every other bone. There was rattling in the walls, rattling in the floor, and rattling in the couch. The group slowly backed into the middle of the room, “Is this how we die?” Sophia mewled as she gripped her staff. She shook in her boots, struggling to squeak out a spell.
	“Like hell we will!” Blud shouted, casting a spell into his hand, ready to be unleashed.
	Rald tore her hat off, pressing her finger to the side of her head, readying her circlet as her other hand reached into her bag, fishing about and looking for something. Reccoa stood by Blud’s side, wreathing her arms in flames as she bared her fangs. Sean was calm as he prepared a few defensive spells of his own. 
	The bone pile rattled before forming into humanoids of various kinds as well as two dogs. A total of six, mostly whole skeletons with small, rusted weapons. From the couch came a tide of rodent skeletons. The floorboards came apart as the skeleton of a bear burst through. From the walls came two more skeletons, “Outnumbered,” Blud swallowed nervously, “But I won’t die so easy!” He shouted as he let off his spell, striking the chest of another skeleton with a bolt of lightning. 
	The bear skeleton reared up to strike out but its claws were deflected by a thick, semi translucent barrier. Sean reached out, through his barrier and touched the bear. Its bones glowed bright for a moment before falling apart, “Sophia!” He conjured another barrier to protect the frightened cat.
	“Th-thanks!” The cat witch furiously flipped through her spellbook, “There!” She cleared her throat and began to chant the magic incantation as two skeletons slashed at the barrier protecting her.
	Reccoa howled, her fury sprang forth before she sprayed flames at the rodents that drew near. The floorboards groaned as they ignited. Rald used her circlet to throw snow onto the flames and put them out, “Careful!”
	With a nod, the sectare woman called back, “Yessums! Very careful flames!”
	“Come forth!” Rald shouted as she tossed the summoning stone towards a skeleton. The stone burst into flames, revealing a fiery humanoid, wreathed in blinding flames. It turned to Rald, its eyes barely visible beneath the fire as it knelt before her, “Uh. Kill!” She pointed at a skeleton. The flame elemental grabbed it, charring the bones instantly and spraying some flames at another one.
	“Oh yeah, real good!” Carly encouraged the ABUG as she swung her camera at the elemental, “Keep it up, guys! Reccoa, more mice!”
	“My kill!” She cried out, spraying even more flames across the room.
	The cabin was on fire. Smoke was filling the room. The elemental continued to scatter fire about the room as well as Reccoa’s reckless abandon. Blud missed with a lightning bolt and the grandfather clock went up in flames as the cobwebs and dust ignited. Sean banished another skeleton, “We need to get out!”
	“What about the Butcher!?” Carly hollered back.
	Blud grunted, “Let ‘im burn! We’ll pull him outta the ashes of this cabin if we have to!”
	The third door flew open. A black cloaked figure gazed upon the carnage through a spooky white mask, “What are you doing!?” She screamed, pulling the earbuds from beneath her cloak. 
	“The Butcher’s a girl!?” Rald gasped. 
	“I don’t care! Stop her!” Carly shouted as Reccoa and the elemental killed the last of the skeletons, turning their bones to ash.
	A piece of the roof fell, then another, and another still, “Sophia! We need a way out!” Sean ordered as he blocked a black blast from the figure with a shield. The Butcher ran out the front door as more and more ceiling fell down. The house creaked, threatening to fall at any moment.
	“Group around me!” The cat witch hollered as her staff was raised in the air. A light encircled everyone nearby her. The group felt the air yanked from their lungs as their bodies stretched and squashed before all of them were dumped into the snow, each easily gaining their footing. The frigid air was a nice change from the heat and smoke. With a crash, the cabin fell into a pile of burning wreckage. 
	“There!” Carly pointed to a figure who was trying to catch their breath, “The Butcher!” 
	The Butcher stood and stared back at the fire, falling to his knees as if in despair. Sean hesitated, “He’s not looking like the dark killer you made him out to be, Carly.”
	“Uh,” The journalist zoomed in with her camera, “It looks like them… but…”
	Blud glared at everyone, “So? It's still the guy we’re after!”
	“Yessums!” Reccoa agreed.
	Rald tried to grab her brother, “Blud, wait!” 
	The goblin and sectare charged the Butcher, tackling him as he struggled to put up a fight against the tall beetle woman. Reccoa easily held him in a headlock, while the goblin nicked his spellcasting components, “Let me go!” The Butcher cried in a feminine voice, “You mad men! What are you doing!?”
	Sean rubbed his chin, “I know that voice. But from where?”
	Carly ran to Blud and Reccoa with the others slowly following, “Fantastic! Alright Blud, I’ve got you set up for a close up! Time for the unmasking!”
	Blud nodded and adjusted his cloak and hat, “Alright, let’s see who this monster really is,” The goblin stood on his tippy toes to reach up and slide the mask and hood off of the butcher.
	The Butcher was indeed female, making Carly gasp for dramatic effect. Her skin was ashen and her hair was black and long. Her face was gaunt, though pretty despite how bony she looked. She grit her teeth, showing some sharp fangs. Carly struggled to recognize her as she got a recording of her face, “Uh…”
	“Eldegarde Hiersing, president of House Hemlock. You look a little different without your usual magical get up. I had a difficult time identifying you,” Sean introduced the woman who was nearly in tears, “Let her go, Reccoa,” The sectare woman visibly hesitated.
	“Sean,” Eldegarde scowled, “I should have known you were the ringleader here. Come to spoil my relaxation, have you?”
	“He, uh, wasn’t,” Rald frowned, quickly speaking up, “Uh, we were. He followed along because of me. Maybe we should let her go.”
	“Why are we letting the murderer go!?” Blud shouted, “San, hold her.”
	“Murders?” Eldegarde scoffed, the offense completely obvious in her voice, “What on earth are you talking about?”
	“You know! Your victims, like uh…” Blud paused, “Carly, you were gathering info on those murders and disappearances, right?”
	“Uh,” Carly lowered the camera for bit, “I didn’t see a lot of disappearances. And no unsolved murders.”
	“We never even confirmed this?” Sophia rubbed her face.
	“So this entire chase was over nothing but a title you put on this woman?” Sean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Carly…”
	She quickly got indignant, “Well, what am I supposed to think about a freaky cloaked figure covered in blood! Where did that blood come from, huh!?”
	“The orcish cooking!” Sophia snapped her fingers, “It has to be!”
	“Oh, hell, you found it,” Eldegarde groaned, “Go ahead and mock me like the rest.”
	“Mock you?” Reccoa let the president go before spinning her around and gripping her shoulders, “It smell SO GOOD!”
	“Admittedly, yeah, it did,” Blud nodded, “You’re good at it. Just let her go, San.”
	“Okay, the blood is from the cooking, but where did she get the bodies from and why?” Carly challenged.
	“The wildlife,” Eldegarde replied, “Who will miss the bears, elk, moose, or odd wolf?”
	“I… right,” Carly scratched her head, “But why are you in a shack here? And what about those skeletons?” 
	The president adjusted her cloak and glared at the journalist, “I come here to indulge in my hobbies. My house is so dull they tend to do nothing but practice their magic. So I come here to paint and cook. When it is warmer, I would garden as well. I did not hear you obliterating my sanctum because I was listening to a talk show while painting. My mistake for using earbuds in a place that is supposed to be private. The skeletons were to scare off people like you, but you destroyed all of them. I unfortunately could not even hear it while you destroyed my haven. And for what? A speculation from a sensationalist journalist?” Eldegarde wiped her eyes, “The one place where I did not have to be the scary, intimidating, president of House Hemlock. I was just… me.”
Carly was desperate to save her story, “Why did you attack us?” 
	“Attack you?” 
	“There were two times we got into altercations with you. The first time we spooked you with cameras and stuff,” Blud explained, “Then when I hit you with the bolt when we were chasing you.”
	There was a long pause, “I do recall the flashes of light, I thought it was some kind of attack. But I was not struck by you earlier.”
	“Bull! Let me see your hand,” The goblin demanded.
	Eldegarde slid up her sleeves before showing the front and back of both, “You claim to have struck my hand?”
	Blud examined both closely. The digits and palms all lacked the signs of damage. Even if she had healed herself, there would be scars, “I know we drew blood. We followed it here. Can’t ya still smell it, San?”
	San’s nostrils flared, “Nopers. Not on snow now too.”
	“Then… who was it?” Rald swallowed nervously and clung to Sean’s cloak. No one piped up as the chills started to run down their spines. 
	“Who cares. It wasn’t Eldegarde here. Probably some copy-cat,” Carly didn’t feel it. All she felt was disappointment. She frowned and made her way over to a disused fire pit. A few logs were downed near it, making for half decent seating. She brushed some snow off of a log and sat down before going through her cameras. Blud sat next to her with Reccoa next to him. Sean and Rald sat on another with Edelgarde taking the last. The house still burnt behind them. The necromancer’s fuming had turned to melancholy. 
Sean cleared his throat as he saw his fellow student’s anger, sadness, and fear, “In an effort to create some kind of peace and understanding–”
	“Sean, cut the presidential tone,” Eldegarde groaned as she dragged her hand down her staff, “I hear it enough already in our meetings,” Her skin tone turned faintly more flush and slightly less gaunt.
	“I am merely trying to placate–” Sean coughed, catching himself, “Trying to calm all our nerves through strong speech. Listen. I am deeply apologetic for what has transpired. I will not speak for these ones, but I am sure the looks on their faces say the same. If you wanted somewhere to practice your moonlighting as a chef, I could help you set something up.”
	“Oh?” The necromancer folded her arms and put her black hood up. Her eyes scanned the rest of the group, quietly deeming if they were in fact sorry or not.
	“I am proficient at creating pocket dimensions. I usually use these for storage or to create places for students to study,” He explained, “I would be more than willing to help you set one up. If I recall correctly, you know a bit of abjuration.”
	“Truly?” The president gave Sean a look before becoming more reserved, “And what would you gain from this?”
	Sean rolled his eyes, “Were you not the one who wanted to keep house politics out of this? I want nothing. I am willing to do anything to make up for this wrong doing.”
	“I shall consider it,” Eldegarde replied, her tone even now was cold and standoffish.
	“Um, I’d be willing to help too,” Rald quietly added, “I’m sure I could help make it or even furnish it. I’m envisioning it now,” The goblin used her wand to draw in the snow, “A full kitchen on the left side, a messy area for painting, and a little greenhouse on the right. Maybe a little coffee table here, one of those fold out ones so you can study there too.”
	Eldegarde’s thoughts on the matter were interrupted as Carly held up the necromancer’s mask after examining her camera, “This isn’t the same thing,” She mumbled.  
	“Pardon?” Sean folded his arms. 
	“Look, none of these shapes or colors are the same,” She held up the mask in hand, something similar to an old plague doctor’s mask, a favorite amongst necromancers. It was white and long. The mask that appeared in the photos she took after Blud struck the figure they were chasing was more off white and yellowed like a skull, a deer skull specifically, “This other mask is a lot creepier, honestly…” 
	Rald felt a chill run down her spine as she looked at the skull-mask, “T-then who is it?”
	“Hear that?” Reccoa perked up and looked east of the camp. Her voice went very low, “See that?”
	“See what?” Blud whispered back, goosebumps forming across his green skin. Everyone turned east, standing from their seats as they began to slowly back away. Everyone, even Carly could now feel it. 
	“A– a person?” Sophia mewled, hardly able to make out a figure in the trees that slowly trudged toward them.
	Eldegarde drew her staff, “That evil scent in the air, we must leave this place.”
	“Agreed,” Sean swallowed nervously, his hand that gripped his staff shook, and sweat formed on his brow.
Rald tugged his cloak, “Do something, Sean.” 
The president felt most of this worry leave his body, “Right. I-I abjure thee, beast!” He bellowed as he slammed his glowing staff into the snow. Glowing chains lashed out at the beast from illuminating runes on the snow. From the soft blue glow, it was obvious it was the deer-skull-faced creature from earlier, its limbs now chained.
	“Alright, Sean!” Blud praised as Carly snapped a photo. That praise quickly died as the beast pulled on the chain, snapping through the magical spell. Everyones’ hearts fell into their stomachs in an instant.
	“Run!” Sean ordered as everyone turned heel and sprinted into the woods. 

	The near blind dash through the woods ended as the group made it back to the lights of Fairgarland’s bright lamps. The overhead and bright yellow glow finally made them feel somewhat safe. Blud panted as he stumbled into a pile of snow. Reccoa rolled him onto his back before sitting down and leaning against the pile. Hildegarde wheezed pitifully, clearly not used to running of any kind. Sophia blubbered to herself, the tears running down her cheeks starting to freeze. Carly was immediately on her camera, staring in disbelief at the monster she had actually captured on film. Sean leaned on his staff as he caught his breath. Rald nudged the president, “Good work back there. I wish I could think of some way to thank you for all your help today,” She gave him a tired smile before coughing hard.
	“I am not sure what I did, honestly,” Sean sighed.
	“Oh, come on,” Rald punched him playfully in the hip, “Called some shots, kept us from killing Eldegarde, and, ya know, slowed down that thing in the woods.”
	The nervous president smiled back, “Thank you, Rald. If you give me such praise, I did more than I give myself credit for.”
“Oooooh,” Carly snapped a photo of the two, “Could we be looking at Fairgarland’s next pair of lovebirds?”
“And what if you are?” Sean gave her a cross look, “Hookups happen all the time. What makes mine any different? Because she is a goblin?”
Carly paused for a moment, “Because you’re a president?”
	Sophia chuckled, “Quite defensive, no? He is an abjurationist, I suppose. Maybe this would be the first story in your paper with some merit.”
	“Defensive?” Sean was taken aback as his face turned red, “I– I am merely–”
	“Sean, let it go,” Rald giggled, her face totally red, “Let’s go out to dinner sometime. Maybe I’ll find some way to repay you.”
	“Ah, well,” Sean clenched his fists, trying to withhold his excitement. The man merely nodded, “I would like that. Is everyone alright?” He asked as his chest stopped heaving from the physical exertion.
 Everyone slowly nodded as they got up, a few sets of eyes looking back into the woods, “What was it?” Sophia asked as she shuddered at the thought of it.
“Nothing good,” Eldegarde replied as she put her hood up.
“Smelled fey. Like the one Lox is in cahoots with,” Reccoa noted, “Why?” She asked no one in particular.
	Blud sat up, “I heard they eat emotions or some crap like that.”
	“They can, some do feed on emotions,” Sean nodded, “It could either be the slaughter of forest creatures, dangerous and not dangerous, or if it ventures onto the academy, it could be the dread that schooling brings as well.”
	“I only feel dread when I think of it,” Carly sighed as she looked at the photos, “I really don’t know how to present this story. The Butcher, the fey creature, everything else we did. It's… not really a story I can put in a paper.”
	“Why not?” Sophia frowned.
	“Can we go inside? It’s chilly out here,” Rald softly requested.
	"Sure, but after all we just did, you're just gonna let it all go?" Blud grumbled as the group stepped into the nearby library and sat in the cafe side. The night shift looked at them for a moment before going back to polishing glasses. The others paid them no mind.
Rald frowned, "Whatever that thing is, fey or not, it looked pretty dangerous to me. Someone could get seriously hurt!”
	Sean folded his arms, “True. That creature is much more dangerous than a bear or wolf. I will need to consult the security staff and the dean.”
	Sophia nodded, “Good idea.”
	“Even then, do you plan on publishing this, Carly?” Eldegarde hissed, “I do not want my name attached to any of these events.”
	“Right…” Carly sighed, “What am I to do with you?” She asked her notepad, completely filled with the events of her adventure. She felt a twinge of pain deep down as she considered scrapping it all. How could she? It may not have turned out how she had thought, but the experience and that fey out there were real.
	“Write a book,” Rald suddenly said with a smile, “Fully embrace the fiction you put in your articles - with bits of truth sprinkled in.”
	“Stage play? Drama group needs story,” Reccoa piped up.
	“You’re in drama?” Rald shook her head, “Look, just fully embrace your flourishing of stories.”
	“Change everyones’ names,” Sean’s stern voice made the journalist nod instinctively. 
	Slowly, Carly blinked as she considered the idea, “I see. I could change some events, move them around, keep Reccoa in the story for most of it…”
	“Maybe some romance?” Sophia suggested as her eyes glanced at Rald and Sean before going back to Carly.
	“Maybe,” The journalist rolled her eyes, “But maybe this is the best idea. Drop the story as a journalist and release it as a writer…”
"Does that mean you're giving up journalism?" Asked Rald, horrified at the idea.
"No, don't be silly, of course not. But some famous reporters have books. They may moslty be autobiographies, but still, I guess the last thing I can do is publish about the fey."
	“That isn’t necessary,” Another voice said as a tall figure strode up to the table.
	“Security guard Catherine,” Sean greeted in his usual formal way, “To what do we owe the honor?”
	“I know you were all running around in the woods, causing a ruckus,” The gargoyle explained, “You actually tried to confront it?”
	“We didn’t mean to,” Rald explained.
	“We thought it was Eldegarde here,” Blud added, “I, uh, may have injured it.”
	An old man chuckled, “You may want to leave an offering for it. Berries and meat are a good option,” The form of Dean Zuccarius had appeared, seemingly materializing behind them. The old wizard wore a pale yellow nightgown. The semi-translucence of his form made it obvious he was merely projecting a mirror image of himself.
	“Good evening, sir,” Eldegarde stood from her seat along with Sean, “What are you doing up so late?”
	Zuccarius chuckled again, “No need to worry about my sleep schedule. I will let Catherine explain.”
	The gargoyle nodded, “I overheard the goblin– I think it was Rald– telling Sean here about the situation. The description of the so-called butcher closely matched our fey friend,so I paged the one man with knowledge on it, at least the most knowledge.”
	“That figure turned out to be Eldegarde,” Sean added, “But we did have an encounter with the fey and it tried to defend itself.”
	“What is?” Reccoa demanded.
	Zuccarius cleared his throat, “A fey creature. One that is surprisingly beneficial to us. As you may have already guessed, it does indeed feed off emotions. As an emotion eater, it plays no tricks, does not get up to mischief, and scarcely is seen by the student body. Due to the dread, anger, stress, and other negative motions it is mostly exposed to, its form looks so formidable and sparks those emotions if it is encountered.”
	“So it's harmless?” Carly was scribbling in her notes.
	“Perhaps not, but it isn't malevolent. It is quite Beneficial even. Without it, the mood and ‘vibes’ around the campus would be much worse.”
	“I find that hard to imagine…” Carly grumbled.
	Blud nodded slowly, “So it's like those birds that eat bugs off of bigger creatures.”
	“Or food in croc-igator teeth!” Reccoa clenched her fists and nodded quickly. 
	“I will never understand the fey,” Sophia sighed. Eldegarde and Catherine both nodded in agreement.
	“Carly,” Zuccarius cleared his throat, “Please do not publish anything about it in your paper. The last thing we need is more students provoking the fey by invading its territory, or worse…”
	“Yes, yes, I already decided not to,” Carly sighed, “I hope this book thing works out. I can’t shake the feeling like I wasted everyones’ time.”
Sean gave her an assuring smile, “Then make sure you did not. Put the story you have gained from this to use with your book.”
	Rald nodded, “You’ve woven interesting tall tales before, just make it a very tall tale this time.”
	“And be sure to change every name,” Eldegarde sharply reminded her, “I suppose it is now time to retire.”
	“Just a moment, please, miss Hiersing,” Zuccarius gave her a look, “Just what were you doing out in the woods? What are you up to that you need to conceal yourself like that?”
	“Ah…” The necromancer paused, her face becoming slightly flushed. The ever watchful eyes of the Fairgarland Dean peered down his nose at her, his glasses reflecting her embarrassment back at her.
	Sean cleared his throat, “Merely working on her hobbies. Not very befitting of the necromancy president, I am sure you know how stoic and unfeeling they are expected to be.”
“Ah, I see,” The dean nodded with a little smile, “You are a person after all. It is only natural to pick up interests,” Eldegarde gave the dean the smallest of smiles before he cleared his throat, “I will take your word on it. Good night, all.”
	Carly cleared her throat as well, “Well, I guess I can call the final meeting of the Anti Butcher Union Group adjourned,” She stood and collected her materials, “Good night.”
	“Anti Butcher… indeed,” Zuccarius sighed wearily as his illusion vanished slowly. 
Catherine raised a hand in a goodbye wave before stepping out of the library, “Just keep out of trouble next time,” She warned them before disappearing into the cold night, leaving the group amongst thenselves
	“Hey, Carly,” Rald called, “Don’t be afraid to reach out about your book. Or just to grab a bite to eat.”
	The journalist-turned-author smiled, “Yeah. I’d like that.”
	One by one, the ex-members of the ABUG left for bed. Sophia gracefully left after yawning and stretching, having said her goodbyes. Reccoa and Blud left together with the goblin being offered a spot in her dorm room for the night. Rald and Sean were left alone, the only noise being the buzzing of the fluorescents overhead and the cafe night shift doing their cleaning duties.
Sean took a deep breath, “You should sleep as well, Rald. It’s quite late.”
The goblin gave him a cheeky little smile, “Did ya really wanna go get food some time? Or were you being nice in front of everyone?”
	The abjurationist turned red, “Well, of course I would not mind treating you to dinner. It was nice to get out tonight.”
	“Treat me? I’m supposed to be treating you for helping me!”
	Sean shook his head sternly, “What kind of man would I be if I let a woman pay for my meal? Especially after such a harrowing experience! No, Rald, I simply cannot accept. I will pay for your dinner.”
	“Damn traditionalist,” The goblin rolled her eyes, huffing as she stood up, “Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow. Unless you’re planning on going home already.” 
“Oh, of course not. I shall be going home in another day or two,” He smiled, “Have a good night.”
“G’night.”
Sean sighed happily as Rald left. He clenched his fist in victory. In the next instant he was trying to figure out what restaurant to take her to. A moment later, he realized he had no idea what she wanted to get tomorrow. After that the dread of not having her phone number set in. Sean jumped up and headed for the door, “Rald! I forgot to ask you something!” He hollered in the desolate library as he sprinted out the door into the cold moonlit night.

The first Sunday of the Christmas break had come, most students piled into carriages and made their way to the train platform a bit south of the Fairgarland grounds to head home while others drove themselves or even teleported back. All of Karak-Albrac’s council, but for Todd, stood at the station as Fredrik waved five tickets at the counter. Each was quickly checked before the light on the spinning gate dinged and turned green, allowing all five to push through. Galahad carried his usual bottomless messenger bag and wore a thick cloak that Root had given him as a gift ahead of his departure. While he couldn’t have gotten a gift for every little goblin there, Galahad had made sure to send along a few. One for Crud: a bottle of dwarven rum, another two for Root: wine of gnomish make and a new microwave that she had asked for, and one each for Blud and Rald. The goblin boy had received two games he had wanted while the girl had received an amulet to assist her in her study of conjuration magic. Wheeling behind him was a blue trunk, Manus’s luggage. The fey-witch had little idea what she was doing so Galahad had taken it upon himself to be sure that she was taken care of. Fredrik had two rolling bags, one of a silver color and the other in gold along with a laptop bag slung over his shoulder. 
Suzie’s bag was as big as she was, loaded down with cloaks, clothes, and various other things she thought she might need. Holmit was last, already red in the face from the swigs of dwarven rum he had been ‘pre-gaming’ with, as the younger dwarves called it. He had a wheeling suitcase along with an ice chest for his personal selection of stouts and a backpack.
Galahad stared at the grand, brick laden train station. The usually boring and dull brown-red bricks with gray cement were now magically vibrant in reds and whites like a candy cane all over the station. Each column of candy cane brick was garnished with a green reef, decorated with red, white, gold, or silver bows, “Don’t lick the bricks,” Holmit grumbed, “I made that mistake in my first year.”
Fredrik nodded as he led the group to boarding platform B3, “While they do look tantalizing, the illusion magic does not make it taste good. Our train should be arriving any minute. I spared no expense in our trip. Only the best of transport for me and the rest of Karak-Albrac!”
"Is that why you always book first class?" Suzie wondered aloud with a snicker.
“Of course. Speaking of, our train looks like it is arriving now,” He gestured down the track where an old black and green steam engine with the number one-two-six inlaid in gold on its front began to roll into the station. It carried five cars, “The Casper! I always book it or one of its sisters if I can.”
“Never took you for a train guy,” Galahad scoffed, “Can you tell me more about it?”
“Of course,” Fredrik nodded as the train slowly came to a stop, “Although it looks like an early, pre-cracking locomotive, it is actually modified to run off of mana. The reactor this small fleet uses is much larger than modern ones and has since been upgraded to a modern standard, but has kept its size. Due to this, it enables a smooth, luxurious ride with its excess mana, along with other faculties such as air conditioning or heating as we'll be enjoying on our trip, along with other wonderful luxuries,” The train, as it stopped, blew off a gust of steam, “It also makes use of the excess mana by conjuring steam for an authentic industrial revolution look!”
	“I… see,” Galahad scratched his head and looked to Manus who simply shrugged her six shoulders.
	“What car are we in?” Suzie wondered as people began to approach the train.
	“The front one. Come along,” Fredrik motioned for them to follow him. The front train car looked wooden with metal beams holding it together. Windows lined it at evenly spaced intervals, about a foot or so apart.
	“Tickets, please.” The dwarven conductor asked as they approached. With grandeur, Fredrik handed them over. The dwarf looked at the tickets and then warily up at Fredrik’s relatively simple golden mask of a grinning lion’s head, “Ah, you’re in room one. Have a pleasant ride,” A nearby ogre began to help load the groups’ bags into the car.
	“Thank you very much, sir,” Fredrik and his friends stepped aboard. The car felt much wider inside than out. Longer too, Manus noted silently. There were two doors on either side that led into rooms. Fredrik waved his ticket at the door labeled ONE in gold letters and nodded as he heard the latch click. As the door opened, Suzie gasped. Inside was an impossibly big lounge. A big three-quarters circle couch dominated the center, easily big enough to comfortably sit eight or ten around its marble topped table. Beyond the couch on the left side was an area with bar seating– which was stocked of course. There was a bathroom, and a bunk bed for two along the wall with the entrance door. The bottom bed was larger than the top. The other side of the door was much the same with a third bed along the wall in the far corner. A big TV screen dominated the wall. Fredrik chuckled when he noticed the look of awe on everyone's faces, "Oh, seems I forgot to mention that much of the excess mana is used to expand the inside of each car, and some of the rooms as well," Around the room were little pamphlets, which upon Suzie's further inspection were actually menus for the dining car.
	“Room service!?” Suzie balked at the food choices, many of which were far more fanciful than anything found in Fairgarland, “Fredrik… how?”
	“No need to worry your head. Please get situated, friends,” The golden wonder tossed his luggage under one of the beds before making his way to the main couch. 
Miss Manus and Suzie claimed another with Galahad taking the top bunk of Fredrik's leaving Holmit with his own bed, “I don’t fart that much when I sleep. Do I?”
“If you wake up in a foul smelling dome of silence, then you know,” Fredrik jested, “The journey is a little more than a day long from here. Holmit, and if the rest of you are so inclined, I have paid for unlimited drinks and food. Someone should come by with snacks shortly after we leave.”
Holmit sputtered in response, “Unlimited– Fredrik you know how to treat a dwarf!”
“It is my secret Santa gift for you, friend! Enjoy it!” He laughed as he picked up a menu. The two quickly began to chat about wines and scotch to order for the group, quickly discounting the ones they could find at their in room bar.
Miss Manus sat on her bed, running her hand over the plush comforter. Galahad plopped down at the foot of the bed as Suzie climbed the ladder to her bunk and began rolling around on the bed and getting comfortable, “Oh, this is so much better than my bed at the dorms!” The gnome cried.
“Suzie! Halfling cider or dwarven beer?” Holmit shouted.
“Get something else! We always drink those! I want something elven or human made!” Suzie replied. 
	“Elven sparkling plum wine it is, I suppose. Not getting human IPA…” Holmit grumbled as he went back to conversing with Fredrik. Suzie stared out the window at the people who were slowly boarding the train.
Miss Manus nervously ran her hands over her cracked orb. Glass, brass, bass, grass, and so on, the channeling focus went as Manus channeled transmutational energies into it idly. Galahad could see something moving under her cloak, “Everything okay?” The man asked quietly.
The fey witch nodded, “Just a little nervous.”
“Never really traveled, right?”
“Right on the nose, Galahad,” She sighed, “I struggle to figure out what I should do.”
Galahad smirked sheepishly, “Same here. Relax, I guess?”
“I swear,” Suzie huffed as she scurried down the bunk bed, “You two sound like you have done nothing but work your entire lives. You should learn to live a little!"
	“I’ve taken… some breaks,” The duelist folded his arms.
	“Holmit! Fredrik! Get these two some snacks! Onion rings! Fries! Mozzarella sticks! Some other deep fried soul food! Oh, some soda too!” 
	Fredrik nodded and scribbled a few things down on the order sheet, while Holmit perused the other drinks on the menu.

Time seemed to pass by just as the scenery did. Many of the forests and hills that Fairgarland was known for were quickly replaced with mountains and valleys. Snow was everywhere, and there was more of it as the train took Karak-Albrac's council towards their destination. Manus observed it all from the window in their room. She leaned against the cushioned wall, nearly against the glass as she witnessed these new sights. It was really like Fredrik had said, the train ride was incredibly smooth. It almost felt like they were not moving at all, but the train did rock slightly every so often and gently listed into turns.
"See anything interesting?" Galahad asked idly from across the room.
"I saw a family of deer playing in the distance. There were three of them, kicking up the snow." She recalled, "I would have liked to have watched them a little longer, but…"
"We must be on our way," Fredrik finished, "We will be there tomorrow, most likely around midday.”
	“And our drinks and lunch should be here in about an hour!” Holmit laughed, “Drink and grow fat, friends. Tis the season for it!”
	“I’m glad every culture is on the same page about Christmas,” Galahad smirked, “Everyone wants to get together and eat a hell of a lot of food!”
	Suzie folded her arms, “Gnomes do that all year, and I work hard to stay lithe and strong!”
	Fredrik nodded, “Aye. You do a great job with your figure, must be all those stairs we take,” He praised making the gnome's face turn red like a beet. Galahad wasn’t even sure if Fredrik realized what he had just said, the golden wizard carried on as normal,
“Anyone want to check more of the train? I would like to head to the observation platform on the caboose."
	“Uh, yeah, let’s go,” Suzie quickly volunteered, “I should burn some calories now before I load up on onion rings. Gotta keep my, uh, figure good.”
	“I think I’ll take a nap,” Holmit grumbled before heading to his bed.
	Galahad looked at Miss Manus, “Want to go wander around?”
	“May as well. Better than sitting here all trip, hm?” The fey-witch decided.
	Fredrik handed out a pass to everyone. The Casper: First Class, room one it read, “It will let us enter this car and room. Come along, friends.”
	Miss Manus followed the golden masked man as they stepped into the hallway. The carpet under foot was thick and soft, the chandeliers overhead were lit with small, brightly burning candles. There were paintings on the walls of past conductors and other important people within the company like owners and major engineers as well as the inventor of the train’s original mana reactor. There were also photographs of the train with celebrities and major political figures standing in front of it shaking the conductor's hands as they smiled for the cameras, a testament to the wide-spread opinion that the Casper was the preferred first-class locomotive. Fredrik pressed a button and the doors slid apart, letting the four through. In the second car was the kitchen, the group was taken around it on a little path by the windows with no way to look into it. On the far end was a few cafe seats and booth seats for people to sit at and eat. At the moment, two dwarves sat next to one another sipping on coffee while reading newspapers. The next car was first class with a few seating arrangements in closed off booths at the front and simple rows of comfortable looking seats towards the back. Next was a sleeper car with more booths that looked much too thin, but Manus figured they were using magic to enlarge them again. The next was an economy car with rows upon rows of cramped chairs. There were very few people sitting here and the four easily made it into the back of the caboose. They found themselves on an open air platform with elegantly twisted, iron guard rails adorned with little metal flowers on top and corners of the rails. Overhead, a magicked lamp burned and expelled large amounts of heat to keep them from freezing. 
	Galahad stood next to the railing on one side and stared out at the nearly flat, snowy landscape. The dark gray clouds overhead concealed the sun's blinding light, and the fog kept him from seeing too far, “The snow’s looking pretty thick,” He commented idly.
	“Yes, how does the train easily glide through it?” Manus wondered.
	“Flame throwers?” Suzie guessed jokingly.
	Fredrik shook his head, “A plow at the front. I cannot say whether it is heated or flaming or not.”
	“Ah,” The fey-witch nodded, “Thank you for dragging me out here. Although it is mostly just snow, I am glad I am getting to admire the beauty of this world. I almost wish I could frolic about in this untouched winter wonderland.”
	“We’ll get our chance,” Suzie assured her, “The cabin’s supposed to be pretty remote.”
	“I, for one, wish to build a few snowmen,” Fredrik declared as he stared out at the snowy landscape, “Have you ever made one, Miss President?”
	“Perhaps when I was… a wee babe? Hard to imagine with a fey, but we are in fact born,” She half-joked, “Something I did with my mother and siblings once or twice.”
	Suzie looked through the gaps in the metal railing, “Well, it sounds like your childhood wasn’t as awful as I used to imagine. Back then you were a lot harder to get to talk, let alone hold a conversation with, y'know. But now that I have the chance I wanna know, were you spawned– born, I mean born, as this form you are now?” She asked.
	Manus smiled, “No, I used to be smaller. Much smaller. But like mother and my siblings, I grew and grew to the size of a human.”
	“Eh, you’re a little short for a human,” Galahad teased, “Maybe closer to one of those elves or a gnome.”
	“You know what I meant, Galahad,” Miss Manus shook her head, “Cease your playful, pedantic teasing.”
	Fredrik shivered, “I should have worn a warmer cloak.”
	“Even that lamp isn’t keeping you warm?” Suzie scoffed, “Alright, come on, better get you into your warm bed before you catch a cold.”
	“Alright, alright. I yield to you,” He chuckled before following her back into the train car.
	With the departure of the two council members, Miss Manus was left with her duelist. Galahad was leaning on the railing and staring out at the snow. Miss Manus took a spot next to him. Her fey eyes could see very far, spotting a fox prowling the plains for its next meal, “What do you see out there, Galahad?” She asked, watching as the fox leapt up and landed head first in the snow.
	The duelist paused, trying to peer the best he could through the fog and snowy precipitation, “Well… The snow mostly. The odd tree. Rocks,” He noted while looking down at the rails below the train, “You?”
	“Not much more than you can see,” She replied, slightly fibbing.
	More time passed with both just taking in the scenery, “Can I ask you something?” 
	“You may.”
	“Well, why are you at Fairgarland? You’re away from your family, and from how you’ve put it, you’ve never left Fairgarland to see them. It's hard to imagine that you don’t have the means to go see ‘em.”
	It was Miss Manus’ turn to pause for a time, “Well, it has nothing to do with magic or money. I have more than I need due to my mother and father. To be honest, it is hard to feel accomplished in the long gloom of their shadows. My status is nothing more than a hand me down title,” She began, looking out into the snowy countryside that passed them by, “I feel nothing when reminded that I am royalty of the fey lands. I suppose that’s why I have not gone home. You made me think of this when you told Arthur about wanting to be challenged a few weeks ago. I realized I felt the same way and that was why I stayed away. What do I gain from it?”
Galahad thought on her words for a moment before the fey-witch continued, “The second is that they sent me off as soon as I was found to have magical ability. Fairgarland had raised me more than they did, in truth. As soon as I metamorphosed from a mostly thoughtless fey child to the form I have now, I was almost immediately sent off. The academy is all I know. It's where I feel I belong. It's where I’ve chosen to work and stay when I have achieved mastery. I simply do not feel the need to go home. Honestly, those I have become closer to at Fairgarland feel like my real familial ties, thin as they may seem. Though a small break from it may be nice every now and again,” Manus tittered into two of her left hands, “And before you ask, I don’t feel abandoned by my parents or anything. They do write, and I write back, but they are few and far between.”
	Galahad nodded, “I see. It feels so distant to me, but I guess I’m no better. Maybe I just don’t understand fey culture, but I do understand feeling like you’re in the shadow of your parents. I’m the same.”
	Manus studied Galahad's face for a time, watching him look out to the tracks behind them, “I believe you have said as much. Will I get to know who your parents are one day?”
	“Of course,” He nodded but the woman gave him a skeptical sideways look, “Okay. How about this; when you graduate and achieve your mastery, I’ll lay it all bare to you,” He offered with a smile, “That should be enough incentive.”
	Miss Manus smiled back, “Fine. But I want to know everything.”
	“And ruin all the mystery?" Galahad smirked.
"If a mystery is greater than its answers then it's not a very good mystery at all." She replied, "I have read many books like that, Galahad, so I hope it is worth the wait."
"Fair enough. Come on, let's go back to the room. I’m hungry for more of those mozzarella sticks. I swear I can taste them already.”
	
	The sun in the sky was nearing the horizon, threatening to set soon on the frosty Monday evening. Fredrik drove the big rental truck along a gravel path through the thick snow. Tall fir trees covered in white flanked both sides. From the passenger seat, Holmit grumbled and swore as he gripped the door handle. In the back seat, Suzie sat between Manus and Galahad, madly grasping eithers’ cloaks to stabilize herself as the truck rocked back and forth, “H-h-how-w-w mu-u-uch fu-urthe-er!?” She shouted, her voice shaking with the bumps on the road.
	“We’re getting close!” Fredrik called back, thanking his lucky stars as he spotted a wooden sign with a four on it, “I think I see it!” He said before turning off the gravel road and down a snow covered dirt path. True enough, the cabin came into view after some twisting and turning curves amongst tightly packed trees. Number four, the one they had booked for the week. The snow had stopped for a moment, letting the group see the deep purple sunsetting sky between the breaks in the woods and the clouds. 
	Nestled between the snow covered trees was a boxy cabin, its log construction had a simple, weathered look with a single door painted bright blue. The curtains were drawn over the windows and no smoke came from the chimney. To the left of the building was another similarly built shack connected with a thin hallway to the main building. A spot to chop logs was off to the other side, almost completely covered in snow, “Holmit, you can swing an axe, right? Wanna chop some wood?” Suzie asked.
	The dwarf sputtered on whatever alcoholic liquid he was sipping on, “Just because I’m a dwarf I can swing an axe, is it? Really, Hillbottom, I thought you didn't believe in stereotypes.”
	“Really?” Galahad balked at him, “I thought every dwarf learned how to use axes, hammers, pickaxes, and armor before they were twenty.”
	“I mostly focused on magic. And armor.”
	Manus frowned, “If dwarves live in their undermountain holds, why would they learn how to wield axes? Would spears not be better in the tight hallways of the under mountains?”
	Galahad and Holmit both turned to her, “Elves live in trees,” They replied.
	After a few moments Galahad piped up again, “I can chop wood. With magic, but I’ll get it done.”
	“I’ll start cooking then,” Suzie declared, “Manus, will you help me put everything away?”
	“Of course,” The fey nodded.
	Fredrik parked the truck and sighed, “Lordy. I hate these big, unwieldy vehicles. Allow me to clear the ground before you all disembark. The last thing we need is for someone to slip and crack their head open,” It was difficult to tell if he was joking as he left the truck. The golden masked wizard collected his staff from the trunk before grabbing his magical tome and looking for a spell, “A spell that will clear ice but not harm the truck,” He told himself, “Aha!”
	“Oh boy,” Suzie sighed as she saw the sparkle in the eyes behind the mask. 
	Fredrik tapped the book with his staff, absorbing the power from the magical script of the page into it. The golden staff glowed with a bright, silvery light. Speaking in his own magical incantation, he pointed the staff at the snow and ice, letting the magical blast go. ZZAPP! The spell screamed as it struck. Suzie shivered and covered her head with her arms to brace herself.
	To her surprise, she didn’t turn to gold or explode. The silence of the car was broken as the door opened and Galahad jumped out, “What is that?” He chuckled, “Is that… carpet?”
	“Merely a temporary change,” Fredrik nodded, “Metal would still be too slick but carpet should help our friends maintain their footing, and what better way to give a royal welcome than rolling out the carpet?" 
"Always the showman," Galahad smirked. Suzie slid out of the car, easily helped down by him onto the plush gold carpet. The gnome could see the carpet led in a little winding, and twisting path to the cabin door.
	“A wise choice,” Manus praised as she was helped from the truck by the duelist.
	Holmit stumbled from the truck and wound up face down in the snow due to his short and stubby legs, “Ach, could have done with conjuring up some step stools too,” He grumbled, pulling himself up from the snow, his beard caked with the powdery white substance.
	Soon enough, the group had collected their bags and transported them inside. The inside of the cabin was aggressively wooden and very dark. But for the fireplace nearly everything was made of some kind of wood, from the furniture in the lounge to the countertops in the kitchen. Galahad dropped his bag on the floor, “I’ll get some wood for the fireplace,” He decided before heading back out into the cold.
“Look at this!” Holmit gasped, “A beautiful, dwarven carpet! My, I have one of these at home! Made by the Gran-Derrak hold too! Look at these runes! Amazingly crafted!” He looked around, “And this axe!” He scuttled to the fireplace and used his magic to bring one of the two crossed axes hanging from the brick work into his hands, “Reign-Derazzi made this! Much better than the one I have!” He seemed to expertly drop into an axe-dwarf battle stance and swing at the air, laughing the whole time.
“Can’t use an axe, huh?” Suzie scoffed, “Scared of a little cold, you old drunk?”
“I– Well– I’m just… testing the boy, yes. Testing him,” The dwarf cleared his throat and put it back, “Need to know how loyal he is to Karak-Albrac.”
The wooden floor of the living room was covered by the dwarven-made rug next to the big fireplace. Fredrik could easily imagine it roaring with flames to warm the cold building. There was a big, wooden framed leather couch, a fabric loveseat, a recliner, and a big, stone top coffee table. A little Christmas tree sat in the corner, decorated with a few red baubles and garland. To the right was a full kitchen with a long dining table. A wood fire stove, a big ice chest, plenty of counter space and cupboards full of more dwarven crafted kitchenware. Octagonal plates made of some kind of light stone, wooden flaggons, expertly made wooden cutlery, forks, and spoons, iron cooking pots, and very nice rags, towels, and most other things you would need to cook. There was also a door leading to the back yard where a hot tub sat under a wooden awning and on a stoney deck. A few pieces of firewood were here, left from the previous visitors.
	On the left side of the building were five doors down a hallway. There was a master bedroom with its own bathroom, two big beds, and its own little fireplace. Another bedroom which was much smaller with a bunk bed and a desk, a third bedroom with a queen sized bed and a couch, a big, wonderfully crafted bathroom with a standing shower and a big bathtub. The last door, at the very end led to another hallway that led to the outdoor sauna.
	Suzie had already grabbed some wood from outside and thrown them into the wood burning stove, “Let's get those pork chops cooking!” She declared as Miss Manus started moving all the materials to the counter or into the ice chest.
	Fredrik glanced out the window. Galahad had already felled a tree, looking like he had burned it toward the trunk. The duelist wreathed his hand in lightning, grunting as he brought his plasma-covered arm down onto the log and slicing it up into more manageable lengths with his powerful evocation magics. Once they were in easier to manage pieces. He switched to using abjuration. He carefully pointed his staff at the bark before snaking his blue, translucent magic into the cracks of the wood. Once stuck through to the other side, he poured his mana into the abjuration to expand it, splitting the wood in half before doing it again on the two halves. Soon, he had broken it down into near identical eighths. 
Fredrik nodded, a bit surprised with his technique, “Holmit, would you gather the wood and take it out back?” With the wave of his hand, the golden wizard removed the bottle the dwarf was about to open and placed it on a high shelf, “You can do some work like the rest of us before getting drunk. Also, you can take the room at the far end, with the couch.”
	“Ugh, fine,” He grunted before throwing a thick cloak and woolen hat on as he stepped out into the snow.
	“We’ll take the bunk bed,” Suzie offered as she started the fire in the oven.
	“If you say so,” Fredrik nodded as he then prepared the main fireplace. Just as he thought, the roaring fire’s heat quickly began to spread across the house. He fell onto the couch, eager to rest for the week. 

. . . . .
	
	Carly licked her lips as she carefully adjusted the lens of her camera. She focused it as she zoomed in at nothing in particular. The camera stared into the black void of the night, “As we know,” She began, “All of our sightings of the Butcher are in the same place. He always comes back on the same path, and from what we can see, he leaves that way too. BUT we’ve never seen him go out there with our own eyes. So, we suspect invisibility. And that’s where our thermal camera comes into play,” The group was hiding within an igloo on the southeast part of campus where the classrooms were. From where they sat, they could see the path they had seen the Butcher take before. The ABUG crowded together around a little screen connected to Carly’s brand new thermal camera. 
	“It's just blue,” Sophia frowned.
	“Because nothing warm is over there,” Blud smirked, “This baby should let us see when the butcher wanders out into the woods.”
	“But what if he’s a vampire?” Rald wondered, “I’ve heard some of the necromancers are actually undead! Would they show up on camera? I know they don’t appear in mirrors. Cameras use mirrors for pictures, right?”
	“This is a little different. Also, I think we’d know if they were full of undead,” Carly gave the goblin a scoff as she sat back, “We’d have a ton of articles about such a scandal.”
	“I guess so…” Rald sighed, trying not to be vocal about every necromancy spell she knew about that could obfuscate numerous forms of undead, not to mention the illusion spells that could do the same thing. 
	Blud watched the screen intently, slowly turning a dial on the side to focus the picture a bit better before checking the batteries for it, “Lookin’ good. It’ll last like, four hours I think. By then we’ll call it.”
	“Agreed,” Sophia nodded. The cat witch peered into the screen. There was nothing but a deep violet cover that blanketed the view and she was hardly able to make out a tree or two from within it. On the left side was a bar that listed various colors from blues to reds to white and what temperatures they represented, “Technology is fascinating,” The witch muttered. She could think of a spell or two that would let her see invisibility, but not to the range of this camera. 

	Time passed. The group stayed warm with a tiny spell that covered them in an invisible blanket of warmth. Each passed time in their own way, taking half hour shifts of watching the camera. Blud played video games on a little hand held device, Rald knitted, Sophia meditated, and Carly checked, double checked, and then triple checked her gear before moving on to eating numerous packs of fruit snacks between each gear check.
	“Look!” Blud hissed. A haze of orange started to waft into view of the camera.
	Sophia squinted, “What is that?”
	“Magic lets off heat, especially illusions. It's a way you can tell them apart. Though I don’t see why someone like you would carry around a thermal camera,” Carly explained, “I think that’s our guy. You can see the cloak, the mask… look how cold their skin and mask are. The Butcher is on the move. We need to get going!” She grabbed her bag and hastily tossed all her things into it.
	“Stay here, Rald,” Blud ordered as he grabbed his bandolier of magical components and messenger bag.
	“What!?” The goblin gave him a cross look, “Why?”
	“Mom would kill me if she found out I let you follow along,” The goblin said as he condescendingly patted his slightly shorter sister’s head, “Just stay here.”
	“But–”
	“This isn’t a debate. I’ll be right back. We’ll only take a minute,” With a wave, Blud, Carly, and a nervous Sophia all began to walk into the woods with all their gear. 
	Left alone now in the cold with wind blowing in her pointy ears, Rald started to fume, “He is such an idiot,” She cursed, “A real… moss collector,” The goblin hissed, “And that moss collector,” It felt dirty on her lips, like a word she should never say. But her brother was definitely acting like one, the lowest of the low, “He is gonna get them all killed with his bull headedness,” She sighed and checked the time on her phone, “Can I do anything? The night watch? No… Lox!” Rald dropped down, ready to run before stopping short after a single step, “GAH! He’s out of town! Of all the times–” She stomped her little goblin foot in the snow while chanting goblin, dwarven, and orcish swears.
	Her mind started to race, she really was worried about them, but what to do? The wheel in the goblin’s head spun faster and faster, trying to think of someone that would help. Rald snapped her fingers, “That’s it! But…” She frowned before shaking her head and sighing, “That’s the only option. He has to help,” She decided before running down the path towards the dorms.

. . . . .

	The dark woods around the cabin were highlighted by the dancing lights coming from within it. Holmit snored in the recliner, a bottle in his hand and a few shot glasses on the coffee table in front of him. An unfinished BLT sandwich sat on a plate near him with the crumbs of spicy chips around it. Across the table, Suzie flipped her two cards, “Two pairs,” She brandished her ace and gestured to the ace and the two tens amongst the five cards of the river.
	“Quite well done,” Fredrik nodded, “However,” He revealed two tens from his hand, “Four tens.”
	“GAH!” The gnome howled in frustration, “You… you!” She swore in dwarvish and orcish at the golden wizard, making Galahad burst out into laughter, nearly choking on the soda and chips he was snacking on.
	“I will assume you were swearing at me,” Fredrik decided before swiping the poker chips towards himself and stacking them up in his pile in front of him, “You were the one who wanted to play poker!” He swiftly reminded her.
	Manus stared into the fire, a drink in her hand that did very little to intoxicate her due to her feyish nature. She didn’t care much for the taste either, “You okay?” Galahad nudged her. The two were seated on the love seat, “It's your turn to deal a hand.”
 “Oh, right,” The fey woman set the bottle down and shuffled the cards magically with the wave of her hands. She flicked her wrist and everyone was dealt two cards.
	“Can we PLEASE do some traditional shuffling?” Suzie begged, “Fredrik DEFINITELY has a pair! I mean, look at him!”
	Galahad frowned, “I… don’t see anything. It's not like his mask moves with his face.”
	“The glimmer in his eyes,” The gnome hissed, “I can see it.”
	“Oh? Are you enamored by the intelligent gleam in my eyes? Perhaps you find them charming? You enjoy how I stare like a hawk, do you not?” He teased her, “Maybe it makes your heart race,” Suzie’s face turned red as she started to steam and swear quietly. 
 Once again, Miss Manus folded upon seeing her cards. Galahad smirked and checked her cards, “Eh, not a bad hand.”
	“But not a good one,” She replied.
	“Right, but you’re not gonna get those gold coins back if you fold nearly every hand,” Galahad attempted to encourage her but she still shook her head, “Alright, fair enough,” The man leaned back in his seat, “Check.”
	“Check,” Fredrik decreed with Suzie knocking on the table to check.
	“Flop,” Manus muttered as she tossed a card aside, “River,” She revealed three cards. Seven of hearts, four of clubs, and a king of hearts. Fredrik and Galahad both glanced over at Suzie who immediately had a glimmer in her eyes. 
	“Check,” Galahad repeated.
	“I will raise five piece,” Fredrik declared.
	Suzie smirked, “Raise by ten!”
	“Oooh, fifteen smackaroos,” Galahad tossed his cards in, “This crap ain't worth that.” 
	“I shall call,” Fredrik decided, pushing in ten dollars of chips. Miss Manus nodded and flopped another card and revealed another in the river. The five of hearts. 
	“Raise,” Suzie immediately called out, pushing in ten in chips.
	Fredrik paused, staring at his hands and his mountain of chips. Suzie had very little to her name, “Raise,” He pushed in another ten which the gnome copied. The next flop and river came. An ace of hearts, “Bet,” Fredrik placed five in which Suzie excitedly copied it. Fredrik scoffed, “I have a straight,” He showed his three and six.
	Suzie cackled, “Flush! I win!”
	“A congrats to you, friend,” The golden wizard pushed the chips over to her, “Another hand?”
	“Yeah, one or two more,” Galahad agreed. Manus discarded her drink and got ready to play again. Though she didn't care much for the game itself, she found herself enjoying the reactions of her friends.

. . . . .

	The snow was thick. Too thick for Sophia. She shivered and shook in her long boots. Her robes were dark and thankfully not inlaid with gold or silver, but they were still made for looks and not for warmth. Carly led the march into the woods with Blud right behind her and Sophia trailing behind. She could only wonder what she was really doing. Going to battle a killer, what was she thinking? Blud might be the only one who was somewhat qualified since he hung around the big Karak-Albrac duelist. Carly was preparing a camera as she wandered onward. She waved a hand and the path was revealed to her, “Looks like we keep straight,” She whispered.
	The forest was silent beyond the whispering winds and the noise of ice and snow crunching under the group’s boots. Sophia brushed the snow out of her face, “Are we really going to do this? Shouldn’t we just stake it out and bring a bigger force? Like we could get Harold, Galahad, and Sean.”
	“We won’t know if he’ll be there if we come back,” Carly quickly pointed out.
	“A simple bolt to the skull should do him in,” Blud gave a thumbs up, “We’ve got this.”
	Sophia was already pulling up lawyer contact information in her head. The best way to spin it, rather than being vigilanties, was acting in self defense. They weren’t heroes, not even sanctioned wizards. The guilds would not look favorably on vigilantes. Sophia doubted these thoughts had even crossed Blud’s mind, certainly not Carly’s. While she was all for stopping the killer, she was not all for killing him. 
	The crunching of snow stopped, prompting Sophia to stop too, “What is it?” Blud hissed.
	“Do we really need to crouch walk? It's killing my precious knees,” Sophia whined.
	“Ssh!” Carly hissed. She crawled forward, carefully hiding behind a bush. Through the thermal camera, the witch could see her target. The lingering warmth of illusion magic clung to the cloak of the caster. He had dropped his invisibility spell, no longer needing it this far into the woods, Carly figured. He was a tall and foreboding figure that made Carly’s heart pound. She could see the side of the figure’s mask glowing white in the moonlight. It was the perfect shot for her story. She swapped to her photo camera, easing her shaking hands as she excitedly brought it to her face for a shot. She breathed in, her index finger starting to press on the button. Carly breathed out, steadying herself, especially her hands as she had many times before as she tried to snap a photo for her journal.
	CLICK!
	A flash went off with the snapping of the photo.
	All three of the ABUGs’ hearts dropped in that instant. Carly and Sophia froze as the Butcher’s gaze fell upon them. There was only darkness behind the mask, eyes full of shadow and despair that pierced their hearts. His hand raised, staff at the ready. A blast of dark, sparkling energy was quickly lobbed at them, “AAAH!” Blud hollered as he swung his wand, slashing through the bolt and sending it flying to his sides. With a loud incantation, the goblin put a spell into his hand. He pointed a finger at the Butcher, “BANG!” He cried as his small spell turned into a crossbow bolt that the Butcher knocked aside with a hiss of pain. 
	With the wave of the Butcher’s hand, Blud found himself shrouded in an impossible darkness and his heart weighed down with despair. His limbs and eyelids felt heavy, “You… dung eater,” He hissed as he fell to one knee, dropping his wand. The Butcher waved his staff again, slowly building energy for another spell. Carly managed to come to, breaking through her fear. She brandished the only thing in her hands: the camera. With a rapid finger, she continually pressed the button, attempting to blind their attacker with the continuous flash. The butcher groaned, in a strangely feminine voice before letting their magic spell go and vanishing into the darkness, hastily retreating from the flash.	
	Carly shrieked as a slow moving burning blast was lobbed at them. Dark flames cast a dim light as it flew at them in a crescent. Carly put her hands up to defend herself. Blud could hardly move due to the magic affliction and Sophia was still paralyzed with fear. 
FWOOM!
	The spell exploded as it struck. A dark, fiery explosion enveloped the group. Slowly, Carly opened her eyes. She pat herself down with one hand, amazed that her body was still whole. She sighed with relief and looked at her two other ABUG members, “You two okay?” She asked, her voice raspy and wheezing as her heart was still racing from the adrenaline. 
	The magic that weighed Blud down was gone, “Yeah, yeah…” He exhaled before slowly getting up.
	“Sophia?” Carly called quietly, “Sophia?”
	“I am here,” The cat-witch sighed, “But we have been found out, friends.”
	“What?”
	“Blud!” Rald rushed to her brother, “Did he hurt you?”
	“Rald, you’re supposed to be back at campus,” The goblin groaned, still shaking off the evil magicks.
	“If I didn’t come here, you would be dead!” She scolded, “You should be thanking me. Actually, you should all be thanking him.”
	“Huh?” Carly peered into the darkness as another figure stepped closer.
	Wearing black robes with a blue arm band and a blue tie, she realized it was Sean Reagal. He straightened his aforementioned tie and glared at Carly, “What have you gotten these three into, Carly? Chasing a killer with just the three of you? If I had not seen him myself, I would have called you insane. And Sophia, I thought you were wiser than this. I should look into having you expelled for putting them in this much danger!”
	The cat-witch glared back, “If not us, then who!? No one will take us seriously. Not security, not the police, not the heroes of old! What other options do we have? Allow him to keep murdering people!?”
	Sean crossed his arms, “You should have told me about this. Or Galahad. Or Harold. Or even Fredrik. Any of them would have been able to at least go toe to toe with this supposed killer. I may have been able to help along with some of my other task force. Harold or Galahad could have made short work of this.”
	“Ugh, would you have wanted to ask Harold?” Rald stuck her tongue out. Sean was silent, “And I would have asked Galahad but of course he’s gone right now.”
	The group was silent for a moment with Sean sizing everyone up. Blud looked around, finally feeling better, “Now what?”
	“We go after him. He’s onto us now, we can’t let him get away,” Carly decided as she looked at the group, pleading with them, “This is our one chance, he will come after the five of us next. He ran deeper into the woods, Blud, I think you drew blood, can you track him?”
	“I think so. I can smell it at least,” His nostrils flared, “At least I think I can. I smell something. Something close. Too close.”
	“Are you all really going to do this?” Sean sighed.
	Rald nudged his thigh with her elbow, “Come on, Sean. Didn’t you say I could come to you if I need anything? With you here, how could we lose?”
	Sean blushed and cleared his throat, “Alright. This needs to be dealt with and I can aid you. If something was to happen to you four, I would never be able to live with myself if I stood by and did nothing.”
	Blud spun around, “I can smell it! He’s here!” He shouted as he drew his wand again. Everyone drew their own casting implements as a tall, barely visible person in a hood stood just outside their vision, “Die, monster! You won’t get me this time!” He shouted as he cast another spell into his hand. Sean, Sophia, and Rald all readied their own casting, preparing for their showdown. 

	Despite the snow that covered the grounds of Fairgarland, it was a clear and sunny day, the sun beaming down over the campus. It was so bright that the light reflecting off the snow  forced students to keep from looking at it lest they blind themselves. Reccoa was no different, her four eyes struggled to see through all the light. 
	She stood on the edge of campus breathing deeply, her familiar sitting on her shoulder whispering in her ear, and with her crystal shards at the ready. As she breathed heavily, her emotions calmed down for a time before she riled herself up again. By usual sorcerer metrics, there was a one to five scale for your emotions corresponding to how strong the magic associated with that emotion can be. One is usually a very impotent spell, for Reccoa it manifested as an easily controllable handheld fire. She threw the flame into the snow, quickly melting a patch of it. With the snap of her fingers, she extinguished it and manifested another ball of flame in her hand.
	With firm control of herself, Reccoa’s anger increased by a stage. At two, she was able to shoot a burst of flames from her hands. She rubbed her hands together as the flames died down, the lingering warmth keeping her exposed hands from getting numb. The rage was pushed again, letting her throw a larger fireball, exploding in the snow and instantly vaporizing it. 
	Reccoa panted as she tried to regain her energy, not daring to push herself further for fear of causing real damage, “A fine showing,” A man called as he trudged down the path, “Not often do we see such powerful displays from sorcerers. Most are too worried about collateral or some such nonsense,” It was the old professor in reds and yellows, Reccoa noted, “By my estimate, you would give the students in my house a run for their money,” He joked as he stopped near her, not daring to stray from the cleared path, “Have I met you before? No, I think I have seen you with young Galahad at his club.”
	“You are professor teaching him, yessums?” Reccoa asked.
	“Headmaster, but yes, I am. Headmaster Xavos of Fritz’Eleo,” He introduced himself, “Interested in dueling, are you?”
	“Yessums.”
	Xavos easily picked up on the foriegn beetle woman’s caginess, “I am sorry for coming off so strong. I merely wanted to say this: I have brought it up to Galahad before but if you and your peers asked him, he might be willing to do a second round of dueling for his club. Otherwise, the only dueling you will see is the official tournament at the beginning of the year and sorcerers scarcely join that.”
	All four of her eyes lit up, “Truly…? Dream of fighting Lox comes true?”
	“Yes, easily. I cannot see him not participating if he was to put it together!” Xavos smiled, “Sorry, but I must move along. ‘Lox’ is waiting for me. Good day,” He gave a nod and continued down the path, using his staff as a cane. Reccoa hesitated for a moment, part of her wanting to continue practicing her spellcraft, while the rest of her wanted to follow the headmaster and catch a glimpse of the kind of training the two of them might get up to. Eventually her curiosity won and the sectare sorceress chose to follow after Headmaster Xavos.
She watched as the wizard in red entered the arena. She thought to wait for a time so as not to bump into him. After a few minutes, Reccoa quickly made her way to the door, heading inside and towards the arena’s court. She could already hear spells being flung by the two, hiding herself around the corner of the hallway. Poking her head into the main area and watching two wizards who stood on the sandy floor, “Galahad,” Xavos started as he used his staff like a walking stick, “You seem to have a penchant for lightning magic, why not practice that?”
	“I could do that,” Galahad stretched his arm and rotated it in a circle as he warmed up. It had been two weeks of being trained by the Headmaster. Classes, clubs, and council duties ate up much of the duelist’s time, but he was now feeling almost completely booked up. Xavos slung a firebolt his way, the duelist reacting instinctually, knocking it away. It hadn't taken him long to get used to the headmaster's magical signature, but every now and then Xavos would pull a new trick from his sleeve. Another firebolt fired off, followed by another. One was harder to deflect than the other, but still Galahad managed to stop the attack short. This was another of Xavos' tricks, by some means the headmaster knew how to alter his signature, making it harder to defend against so easily.
	Loxley waited for his opening, seeing it as the headmaster slung a fireball with his aim being off to the side as he slightly miscast it. The duelist grabbed the top of his staff and channeled the power into his hand. With a cry, he thrust his arm forward and shot a powerful arc of lightning from his hand. Xavos raised a hand, feeling the brunt of the attack on his palm. He raised his eyebrows as the attack continued, even increasing in strength as Glahad put even more mana into it. Xavos wove a spell and slashed through the arc with his staff, breaking Galahad’s concentration by putting him in a short feedback loop.
	“Enough,” Xavos pointed to the wall and fired out the excess mana as a stream of flames, “You are going to give me too much mana at this point. I do not enjoy mana burn.”
	“Sorry,” Galahad grumbled as he stretched again.
	Xavos waved his wand, “Here, practice your casting on these,” He conjured a trio of armored wooden mannequins. The animated wooden humanoids moved to stand in a triangle formation, the one in the front wielding a shield. The headmaster folded his arms and watched Galahad work. A powerful blast in a cone shape was slung at the mannequins. He was amazed how much mana the first year wizard had to throw around. It was akin to that which a sorcerer might have. While uncommon, it is possible for a wizard to have inherited those deep mana pools from a parent with sorcery magic. He claimed to learn from his father, Xavos recalled, a sorcerer and a wizard for parents. Though the sorcerer could be his grandparent or even great grandparent. The elder wizard stroked his beard as the younger wizard casted a few powerful magics. The thoughts of Galahad’s past would not leave Xavos’s head. 
	
. . . . .

	“Right this way, sir,” Sean gestured to the elder magi to follow him down the path. He still couldn’t believe it, Arthur Maxamillion in the flesh! The archmagi was much more… plain than he had anticipated. The old wizard had a trimmed white beard which tapered into a short point on his chin. His hair of similar color fell onto his shoulders from underneath his wide-brimmed, dark blue hat. His cloak matched his hat, with long, drooping sleeves that ran down either arm, “May I just say that it is an honor to have such an esteemed guest here. Not many can say they have had a visitor for whom their house is named for.”
	Arthur nodded, “The honor is all mine, Mister Reagal. Few have asked me to speak due to my wizarding knowledge and not because of my status as a hero of legend. It is quite the nice change of pace.”
	“I am told our contacts barely needed to talk you into it,” Harold chuckled as he followed along with one of Sean’s council members, “A grandmaster needs to be recognized for all the work put into his craft!”
	The grandmaster wizard smirked behind his beard, “My heart was set aflutter when the dying flames of my ego were stoked by your headmaster. Nambra’s playful teasing and praising only goes so far these days.”
	“And you didn’t even ask to be paid?” Sean wondered.
	He nodded again, “I don’t think I could spend the money I already have in three lifetimes, even with my children.”
	“How many do you have?” Harold pressed, “It seems like the amount changes from report to report.”
	“Let’s see here… those three have flown the nest, three in schools, two at home, I believe,” The wizard thought for a moment, “Seven.”
	“You listed eight, sir,” Sean hastily pointed out. He glanced over to see Harold’s mind racing.
	The elder wizard scratched his temple, “I did? I meant seven. Hard to keep track of them all. Ah! That must have been my mistake. My eldest, she has a husband you see. He has been part of the family for almost a decade now. Love him like the son I never got to have.”
	“Ah, that makes sense,” Harold sounded very disappointed, “You never had a son?”
	The wizard nodded, “Yes. In my many years with my lovely wife, we were never blessed with one,“ He sighed, “No wizarding magic aligned children either. I would have liked my own apprentice– from my bloodline, I mean. I’ve trained a few wizards in my time.”
“Uh… huh,” Sean furrowed his brow at the grandmaster’s rambling. 
	“I hear an abjurationist won your duels, is this true, Sean? Someone from your house?” Arthur asked.
	“Well," Sean chuckled, "While he did not win the duels, he did defeat Harold, the reigning champ. Broke his arm doing so and I hear some consider him the true winner, so I am not surprised you heard that. Though he is quite proficient in abjuration, Galahad is not in my house,” Sean explained, “He’s working on a metallurgy mastery of all things.”
	“Galahad… Galahad…” Arthur repeated as if tasting the name on his tongue.
Harold watched him closely, looking for changes on the wizard's face, “His last name is Loxley. Have you heard of such a house before?”
	The elder abjurationist stroked his long beard, “I cannot say I have. Someone else’s parents had a penchant for Arthurian names, it seems.”
	“Well, perhaps the sight of him may clue you in, I think I see him in that crowd over there,” Harold pointed to a group around a small tree next to the path. 
	A gnomish woman was pointing up the tree and speaking frantically to Galahad. The wizard looked up and frowned. He cast a spell to summon his fat rat familiar who, with surprising speed, climbed the smooth tree as the wizard looked through his eyes. There was a spectral looking squirrel hanging out on a leafless branch, “Yeah it looks like your familiar is up there. Why a squirrel, Suzie?”
	“I-I dunno, they’re like cuter rats! Fluffy and spry!” The gnome explained with a very sad look on her face, “Steve is already running away from me…”
	“You need a firmer grasp on it,” Rald explained with Manus and Fredrik nodding in agreement. Blud stared at the tree as Reccoa futilely attempted to climb the smooth bark. There were no low branches for the tall beetle woman to grasp.
	“A wandering mind cannot control a familiar,” Manus explained, “I unfortunately have too much on my mind to maintain one.”
	“Manus, can you transmute my hands into something grippy?” Galahad asked, “I should be able to climb up and grab it.”
	“Can’t she just de-summon it?” Blud asked.
	The duelist shook his head, “It’s outside of her control range, and even if it was it isn’t listening to her so it would still try to escape. Best thing to do is to try to trap it so she has an easier time focusing on it.”
	The group hadn’t noticed the small group of wizards standing back and observing, or so they thought. Harold felt goosebumps on his skin and a shiver down his spine as the fey-witch gave him a sideways glance before transmuting the skin of the first year. Galahad grimaced as he rubbed his now rubbery and sticky fingers against his palm, “It will pass in ten or so minutes.”
He nodded in reply, shed his robe, and slapped each onto the bark. With very little grace, Galahad managed to drag himself up the tree. His boots scraped off the bark on his way up, leaving him to pull himself up one hand after the other. It was about ten feet up to the first thick branch where the first year was able to take a break, “I never realized he was that shredded,” Blud wondered with a chuckle.
	“A good wizard needs to be strong in both body and mind,” Fredrik replied as Galahad began to climb again. Harold motioned for Sean, Arthur, him, and the few other abjuration council to move closer.
	“Why not just use a levitation spell?” Sean asked with a chuckle as the group approached the small crowd.
	“He asked for a transmutation spell. Not a levitation spell,” Manus replied, “Hello, Sean… Harold. I see your most illustrious guest has arrived.”
	Reccoa and Blud gave confused looks, “Whom’st?” The beetle woman asked.
	Rald punched her brother on the arm, “You knucklehead! That’s the most famous abjurationist to ever live!”
	“A good day to you, Grandmaster Abjurationist Arthur Maxamillion,” Fredrik gave him a grandiose bow.
	Arthur chuckled, “No need for such formalities. Though I know how futile it is to ask you to treat me as any other elder grandmaster wizard.”
	“It is not every day we are graced with the presence of a hero,” Miss Manus gave a brief curtsey, “A good day to you.”
	“Good day,” He replied, “I believe I have heard of you, the transmutation president Manus, I assume.”
	“You are correct.”
	Blud, Rald, Reccoa, and Suzie all stood around nervously, feeling quite star struck, “Is Galahad nearly done up there?” Harold wondered, feeling quite impatient.
	“Why do you care? He is retrieving a pet,” Sean shook his head and folded his arms, “Are you up to something?”
	“No, no…” Harold chuckled, “Why would you think such a thing?” Sean gave him a scowl. 
	Galahad spotted Randy the fat rat staring at the squirrel above him. He drew his holdout wand, a tiny stick with a ruby inlaid on the handle, from his pant leg. He whispered a spell to the wand, letting it shoot off an abjuration spell, catching the squirrel in a little translucent orb. It squeaked and whined as the wizard directed the orb into his hand before casting a slow fall spell on himself and leaping from the tree with Randy in his other hand, tucked under his arm. He reached the ground with a soft landing and handed the trapped squirrel over, “I’d recommend banishing it for now. Work with it again in a small, or at least confined, space.”
	“Got it,” Suzie sighed as she touched her fingertips together before swiftly parting them, causing her new familiar to be shunted into its pocket dimension.
	“Don’t look so glum, I’ll help you get it under control. Although maybe we should pick a slower form.”
	“A wonderful showing,” Arthur praised with a chuckle, “You must be Galahad, the one these two told me about.”
	“I am, sir…” Galahad trailed off, waiting for the man to introduce himself.
	“You don’t know either?” Rald balked at the first year student.
	“No need to snap at him. I am a relic of years past. I am Arthur Maxamillion, the single grandmaster of Abjuration and hero of the new world.”
	Harold was intently staring into their faces, trying to discern anything telling in their expressions. To his disappointment, nothing telling ever showed, “I am sorry, sir,” Galahad smiled, “You’re a lot… younger when depicted in the history books.”
	“As I said, a relic of a bygone era. Tell me, why did you go into transmutation when you are obviously so skilled at abjuration?” Arthur asked.
	Galahad paused for a moment, “What’s the point of getting an easy degree? Have I really toiled and struggled where my peers would if I arrive with a plethora of knowledge to ace all my classes? I want to be challenged and forced to think. It would be quite boring to take the easy path.”
	“Quite well put,” Sean nodded.
	“Yes, if only more had your mindset,” Arthur nodded before checking a pocket watch, “Goodness, I am going to be late for my talk. I know it's mostly for House Maxamillion students, but you and your friends are welcome to attend. I am sure there will be more than enough room.”
	“I would be delighted to,” Galahad gave the old man a smile, “Is anyone else interested?”
	“Aye,” Fredrik and Suzie nodded quickly.
	Miss Manus eyed her duelist, “I will attend. I must say, your application of abjuration has made me curious.”
	“I wouldn’t mind tagging along,” Rald nodded.
	Blud shook his head, “I would, but we already got plans. We’ve got some cookin’ to practice. C’mon San.”
“Yessums,” The beetle woman nodded and the two waved to silently bid farewell. 
The group of transmutationists and the elder abjurationist all began to head to the speaking hall. Harold turned to step away, “Harold?” Sean folded his arms, “Where are you going?”
	“Well,” The disappointed evocationist folded his arms, “I have something to take care of as well. Enjoy the talk, Sean.”
	“Ah… I see. Goodbye, friend,” Sean nodded and caught up with the group.
	Harold scowled, feeling like he had hit another dead end. It was time for another approach.

. . . . .

	The auditorium for Arthur's talk was filled with abjurationists and those of the Seeker's House aspiring to become such wizards themselves. Many had come wanting to learn from the grandmaster, while others wanted to hear stories from his time as a hero. The wizened grandmaster cleared his throat before he began.
	“Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different had I gone to a college of the arcane arts,” Grandmaster Arthur Maxamillion said as he stood on the stage before a wooden podium. On the stage with him was Dean Zuccarius and Kal Spellbreaker, the abjuration house headmaster, “While I am grateful to have been taught as an apprentice, part of me thinks I would have learned better from a professor. My mentor, Master Delliorise, may he rest in peace, was a strange one…”
	Sean Reagal sat in the front row, slowly adjusting his blue tie as he began to think. Harold seemed to be acting quite strange, then again he had been since his loss in the arena. The president of House Maxamillion couldn’t help but let the brain worm creep in that his friend, if he really was his friend, had only set up this talk to somehow get to Galahad. It sounded insane in his head, what could he possibly gain from doing such a thing? But even so, Harold’s strange, intense look had been obvious to Sean, but what was he getting at? It didn’t add up to the president.
	“Of course,” Arthur coughed and straightened his old body up, “Abjuration is a wonderful school. You focus on the defense of those around you, and yourself should you need it. You protect those in need, defeat opponents in a non-lethal manner, and so on. It is about the preservation of everything…”
	Sean glanced to his right. Galahad and friends sat to his right in a row. The first year watched the talk with great interest along with President Manus and Fredrik. The gnome– Suzie, he recalled, and the goblin he had not yet been introduced to, were passing papers back and forth. Notes? Sean wondered. Maybe they were attempting to delve into the greater meaning of the grand master’s words? Sean was too distracted to attempt to discern the notes. The distraction was… the goblin, of all things, her lips were curled in an unusual way. It reminded Sean of his mother’s familiar, a marvelous short haired cat. The happy look it always gave him was most akin to the goblin’s face. Sean put a hand on his head. Nostalgia? No, that’s not what made his heart flutter. Perchance he needed to be introduced to her after the speech. But… would that be weird? Sean slumped in his chair.
	“I admire each and every one of you,” Arthur smiled behind his silvery beard, “Honestly. You have the opportunity of a lifetime!”
	Sean glanced over at the goblin again. The only person between him and her was the gnome, Suzie. 
	“Although I love my expertise and encourage you to delve into it, please do not limit yourself. Simply knowing one school does not make a great wizard. Conjuration…” As the wizard summoned a snow white ferret, the room “oohed” and “aahed.” 
	The young president glanced over again. They were none the wiser about his peering. He folded his arms and jumped at the thunderous applause that broke out as Arthur’s speech ended. Sean glanced over at the two and leaned close, “What did he say at the end? Unfortunately I was… distracted.”
	The goblin woman smirked, “He went through a few schools of magic: conjuration, evocation, and enchantment.”
“Then he said ‘thanks for listening to me ramble,’ and said he’d stick around for a meet and greet,” Suzie continued with a shrug.
	Sean nodded, “That is just like him,” He sighed, “Thank you, Suzie and… I’m afraid I haven’t met you, miss.”
	The goblin smiled, her cat-like mouth’s corners rising, “Rald Raxpadalia. You’re Sean, right? The president of abjuration?”
	“Yes, I am,” He chuckled as the two rose to follow the rest of the transmutation house, “Well… uh, nice to meet you. If you need anything, feel free to let me know.”
	“Uh, sure. Thanks,” Rald gave him a confused look but thought nothing more of it as the group left.
	Sean stayed in his seat with a smile on his face, watching the younger members of his house crowd around Arthur for the chance to ask him a question or get him to sign something. He nodded, proud of himself for how smoothly he had gotten introduced to the goblin.

. . . . .

	The lonely trudge through the snow felt cold to Miss Manus. Not because of the chilly wind blowing snow into her face, no, it was because she made the trek by herself. For once, all of her colleagues said they needed to attend to something. Even Galahad was occupied with his own personal matters, whatever they may be. The witch gripped her hat and stepped across campus. The snow did little to slow her down as she stepped on top of it. As a fey, she willed herself to not sink down into the powdery, cold white as she hurried to her house where their week three meeting was taking place. With a sigh, she pushed the door to her dorm open. She was glad to be ahead with her classes now, but a little disappointed with her council mates’ sudden strangeness. Her eyes scanned the room to see her council members sitting in the corner with numerous stacks of pizza boxes near them. A few Karak-Albrac students grabbed slices before heading back to their dorms or upstairs. 
	“Are you sure you’re fine staying here?” Suzie asked, turning to Todd.
	The mono-eye nodded slowly, “Someone has to watch the place. And I hate the train…”
	“Aye, the young ones might need it,” Holmit grumbled and folded his arms.
	Fredrik tapped the keyboard on his silvery shelled laptop before nodding his golden, mask-obstructed head, “Done. We are set. Tickets and lodging. Is Miss President–” He turned to the door to see Manus brushing the snow from her fluffy robes, “Ah, Miss President is… here,” He closed the laptop slowly and rested his finger-interlocked hands on the table. The rest of the council all turned to their president.
	“Good evening, Miss Manus,” Galahad called as the witch slowly made her way to the table, “We picked up some pizzas for the house if you want… any…” He trailed off as he saw her eyebrows were furrowed in a glare under her hat. 
	“You five have been going under my nose for a week or more now. Do not assume I do not see nor hear you plotting,” The uncharacteristic anger in Miss Manus’s voice made her council paralyzed with fear, “As your president I will not demand to know what you are up to,” The anger was wiped from her face almost as quickly as it came, replaced by an immeasurable sadness, “But as your friend, know that I am hurt you would all act so underhandedly. I believe I will cancel today’s meeting and retire for the night.”
	“Manus, wait!” Suzie gripped the edge of the table as she looked to her other council members, “I don’t think we can wait any longer, guys. We’ll all wake up as toads and cats if we keep this up,” Her voice was full of regret.
	Fredrik nodded and cleared his throat, “Miss President, from me and the rest of your council, we would like to present you a gift.”
	“A… a gift? Is that what this has been about?” Manus gave her a look.
	Galahad nodded as he grabbed Fredrik’s laptop and opened it up, “I’m truly very sorry, Miss Manus. This was all my idea. I just wanted us to do something nice for you in your last year at Fairgarland,” He turned the screen around for her.
	Manus approached the table. As she gazed at the glowing screen, pictures of a serene landscape appeared. Rolling hills, tall pine trees created a secluded area, and a mountain range made for a gorgeous backdrop. And like icing on the cake, snow covered the land. The next screen she was shown was of a cozy looking cabin with a fireplace inside. Three rooms, a fireplace, a dining table, full kitchen, and even a sauna and hot tub, “We hope it is to your liking,” Fredrik sat back in his chair. Even if she couldn’t see them, Manus knew his nervous eyes were on her. 
	Miss Manus looked at all of them, “You all went out of your way to plan a getaway for me? For us? And you kept it a secret?” She chuckled to herself as she took her hat off and rubbed her forehead.
	“Yeah… do you hate it?” Suzie frowned, “Do you hate us?”
	“Of course I do not,” Manus assured her as she took her seat, “I was beginning to worry you were having thoughts of supplanting me.”
	“Never would we dare!” Holmit cried out, “In another circumstance, I would have been offended. Worse than if you had lopped my beard off!”
	“I didn’t think that was possible,” Suzie jested, “So, what’aya say, Manus?” 
	The fey witch sighed, “Yes. I must admit had you pulled this last year I might not have accepted, but I am open to new experiences.”
	“Wonderful!” Fredrik sighed with relief and clasped his hands together, “To clue you in, we will take a train out west to the mountains. From there we will load into a rental truck or two and drive to the cabin. A wonderful Christmas Vacation awaits us!”
	“Oh! We should set up a secret Santa!” Suzie proposed, “What’s Christmas without a gift or two?”
	“Good idea,” Galahad nodded, “Maybe we should figure that out later. Manus, what was on the agenda for tonight?”
	“First off… I could use a slice of pepperoni. Next, we have the opportunity to have a guest speaker. Do we know who we would like to invite?”

. . . . .

	Catherine Blanchet, the campus night security had finished her third circuit of her patrol route that night already. The gargoyle looked at her badge for a moment before sticking it back onto her puffy vest right side up. The freezing air of night threatened to put icicles on her exposed wings, forcing her to wear the wings like a cloak to keep herself and her wings warm under another, much thicker cloak. There were a few thoughts in her head of knitting some kind of wing-sweater to keep them warm, but then how would she fly with it on? It would be much too thick and heavy. Her wary eyes glanced back and forth, the lights lining the path only offering so much vision in the snowy fog. 
	A noise behind her made her jump and draw her spear. She waited for a moment, trying to discern the threat. Once more, it was just snow being knocked out of a tree and landing in the grass. The gargoyle huffed and straightened her back. She scanned the foggy area around the dorm towers and nodded. There was a group of three next to the necromancy dorm, each smoking from a pipe but Catherine decided to leave them be. Although it was late, there really wasn't a rule against being out. 
	From the labs came a small contingent from Frtiz'Eleo, each one grumbling about the cold and being out so late as they held their alchemy projects close to keep it or themselves warm. The gargoyle nodded as she passed them, turning back to make sure there wasn't some kind of altercation with the necromancy students. 
	She continued south to the southern part of campus, past the labs and boarding school to where the snow had been fashioned into snowmen by the younger students. Balls of snow gained more mass as the snow kept coming down on them. The gargoyle's eyes scanned the woods beyond. Off limits to the younger wizards, but some of the college aged men and women would go out there to practice. Catherine would be lying to herself if she denied that some of the younger students went out too, for whatever reasons they had. Love or a test of courage or some such nonsense.
	Catherine's ears twitched again. Her hands went for her polearm as her eyes began to dart back and forth. The lights lining the path went out and the gargoyle took a defensive stance. A light crackling gave away the position of her first attacker. A bolt of lightning shot toward her, easily blocked as her wing turned to stone. There was another attack, the hurtling of a few stones at her which were easily batted aside with the other wing. Third was a blinding light, illuminating the gargoyle and stunning her for a moment.
	"Wait! Wait!" A voice cried.
	"I-is that the night watch?" Another gasped.
	"We have a night watch?"
	Catherine squinted her eyes, "Kill that damn light!" She barked. In a moment it was off and the overhead lights came back on. Four figures timidly stepped into the light. A cat person, a human, and two goblins, “What are the four of you doing?” She scrutinized the human woman a little more closely, “You, you’re that journalist! Don’t tell me you dragged these three into some crazy scheme.”
	The four looked nervously at one another for a moment, "Well," Sophia cleared her throat, "It's not really a scheme this time."
	"Yeah!" Carly nodded furiously, "We're the ABUG!"
	"The… a boog?" The gargoyle gave her a blank look.
	"The Anti Butcher Union Group!" The journalist declared, "We're hot on that killer's trail, oh he's gonna get his and I'll get my killer story!"
	Blud put his head in his hands, "Did you have to let EVERY cat out of the bag!? How do we know she ISN'T the killer!?"
	"What the blazes are you talking about?" Catherine barked, "Butcher? Killer? Are you– oh, hell, you all bought into those rumors of the cloaked figure at night."
	"They're not rumors!" Rald protested, "We've seen him! All four of us! He's real and soaked in blood!"
	Catherine shook her head, "I've heard students report it, but I'm out here almost every night and I have never seen it. It's just a prank, an illusion maybe. You know how that imp loves her tricks."
	"Yes, but–"
	"Enough. To bed. All of you. For all I know, you're the ones being reported by the students. Skulkin' around at night… butcher… pssh.”
	Carly glared at the gargoyle but Sophia gripped her forearm, "Drop it. It's time to turn in."
	"... Fine…"
	"Let's get you two home," The cat witch snapped her fingers, dispelling the black coloring illusion from everyone's cloaks.
	"I don't care if you four are out at night," Cathedice added as she put her polearm away, "I just don't want y'all causin' trouble. Understood?"
	"Crystal clear," Rald nodded.
	Cathedice nodded, watching until a bright green spell enveloped the four, making them disappear. The gargoyle sighed and continued with her patrol.
	A few moments passed after she walked away, the four members of the Anti Butcher Union Group reappeared where they had seemingly teleported from. Blud crossed his arms and looked to the others, "Gotta be more careful about who we ambush."
	“And who we cross at night,” Rald added.
	"Carly, you should be our identifier," Sophia proposed, “You’ve got a good eye.”
	“Aye-aye,” The journalist nodded, feeling quite good after the compliment, “Shall we return to our positions?”
	“Yeah, try not to fall asleep this time, Rald,” Blud teased as he went to his position.
	“Shut up…”

	From the sky, a downpour of powdery, white snow came. Inside the safety of the library on a cold, snowy morning, Suzie Bottomhill took her time going through her notes. Every so often, she would pause and check her phone, quickly going through her various social media accounts. Cat pictures, book releases, art, gnomish parables, and dwarvish metal sculpting and artistic reliefs, all things she enjoyed. She frowned and her stomach rumbled, her favorite kind of coffee was back in stock at her favorite coffee shop according to her browsing, but she had no way to get it for herself. Not unless she planned on hoofing it for ten miles there and back or paying for a taxi just for some coffee. She couldn’t do that, Suzie knew, she was more sensible with her time and money. She grumbled and cursed in dwarvish to herself as the gnomish language had no real bad words to use, “Where is he?” She growled, starting to feel hungry and perturbed.
	“Pray forgive me for being late,” Fredrik quickly announced his presence as if he had heard her, “I made a trip into town. My car does not handle snow very well.”
	“What could you have possibly needed in town?” Suzie groaned, “We’re supposed to be studying–” A large drink set down on the table in front of her instantly shut her up. She could smell it, the peppermint infused with coffee. Steam came off the piping hot liquid caffeine, inviting her with its warmth. Suzie removed her warm, wool-lined gloves and tentatively wrapped all her fingers around the plastic cup, letting its warmth travel up her fingers and hands. She brought it to her lips and sipped it down, sighing with relief as the hot, steaming drink slid down her throat and into her stomach followed by her blissful sigh, “How did you know?” She quietly and sheepishly asked.
	“I remember the fuss you made last year. And the year before that. And maybe the two or three before that. Plus, if you recall, I got you some last year when you got debilitatingly sick, hopefully you recall that nicety,” The golden wizard explained. He had a small cup of black coffee of his own, “Did you eat? I had a sugar craving as well,” He placed a box of fresh glazed donuts on the table between them.
	“I suppose I could eat one or two,” She said in a faux-disinterested tone before smiling ear to ear. She took one and bit into it. It was delightfully fluffy and sweet. The glaze was maple flavored, contrasting the pepperminty coffee she drank, enjoying the almost sickeningly sweet flavor.
"How is it? Fredrik asked, his vibrant blue eyes ever watchful through his mask. Suzie hummed her approval as she chewed, before it dawned on her that the Golden Wonder was only watching her eat.
"Aren't you going to have some?" She asked after swallowing, "There's plenty for both of us."
"Yes, well, I ate on the way over." He admitted, "I just could not wait, I know, bad habit and all that. Personally I would be happy if you took the whole box with you after we study," Suzie eyed him curiously before continuing to eat her maple donut. Instead of opening his books for study the wizard in gold kept watching the gnome. Something fishy was going on, was Fredrik always so attentive? Suzie wondered. He had always been the conscientious type looking after his fellow students, but there was something different that had come to her attention. Fredrik was always going on about his 'muse,' but no one even knew who it was and he refused to tell a soul. It was a secret almost as closely guarded as his face. He had been doing this for weeks– maybe months, now– teasing the idea, but never acting any differently. Only now it didn't seem that way to the gnome. Suzie had seen him act this way with one other person: Sophia. At the time he was head over heels for that cat-witch. Suzie recalled when Sophia had broken off their relationship, Fredrik had been so distraught he had shut himself away for weeks. She really felt for him, doing her best to cheer him up, so she was relieved when he came back twice as outgoing and doubly dazzling. 
"Suzie?" The sound of Fredrik's voice startled the gnome and snapped her back to reality.
"Y-yes, what is it?" She asked, trying her best to act casual.
"You have been eyeing me for some time now, is there something on my mask?" He asked innocently. The gnome shook her head before putting the last bite of her donut in her mouth. It was time for another mode of attack, she thought. "Nope, not a thing. Say, Fredrik?"
"Yes, Suzie?"
"I know you don't want to give it away, but could you tell me anything about this muse of yours? Any little tidbits or hints? You know I wouldn't tell," The gnome asked as casually as she could as she went for another donut. Fredrik was silent for a time, which only drove Suzie's wits up a wall until he cleared his throat.
"Well… if you promise to absolutely tell no one," He began. Suzie nodded furiously as she took the first bite of her second donut and sipped more peppermint coffee for a chaser. Fredrik leaned in close to the gnome, her ears perking up as his mouth drew near. 
"I've known her for a long time." His soft-spoken voice had Suzie wondering for a moment if it was the warmth of her coffee or something else that was making her ears tingle.
"D-do I know her?" She dared to ask, trying her best to keep her voice down. Fredrik nodded in reply before going back to his side of the table, "I-Is she in the same class–"
"Ah, ah, no more questions, I would not like to spoil the surprise," She could hear the smile in his voice. Was he teasing her? Something in the gnome's heart told her she knew who it was, but she was afraid to even guess.
"Well, when are you gonna surprise her?" She pressed him. He looked away, pretending to play with his curly hair for a moment and hum before he answered.
"Well… shouldn't be too long now. I was thinking at the beginning of spring."
"That'll give you both some time," Said Suzie timidly, "W-what are you gonna do?"
"I have that all taken care of, worry not. I have made reservations at a local establishment and have a plan to get her answer on availability," Fredrik proudly announced, "Now really, no more questions unless we are studying."
"R-right. Where are your books?" Asked the gnome.
"I seem to have forgotten them, may I share yours for today?" The wizard inquired, scooting his chair beside her.
"S-sure," Suzie squeaked out, her face flush with something besides hot coffee in the winter.

	. . . . .

	Headmaster Xavos blew a spray of hot flames from his staff across the grass in front of his tower. He hated the winter. He couldn’t garden, he struggled to maintain his lawn under all the snow, and worst of all it was much too cold to sit out on his porch. He sighed after clearing a small section of his yard and went back inside. The humid warmth of his tower did wonders to reinvigorate his old bones. The outside cold made his joints ache and his nose numb. It was Friday morning and Xavos refused to teach classes on that day, preferring to keep it as a day for chores and tasks and Sunday as a day for rest; he was Catholic after all. Saturdays were mostly up in the air as for what he did. Make up chores he missed, tutoring, catch-up grading, and meetings were just a few of the things he did on Saturday. 
He retrieved his tea kettle along with a list stuck to his fridge by magnets with the faces of his grandchildren and great grandchildren on them. He went over the to-do list again, 'Order the delivery of groceries, a birthday gift for a grandson… speak to Galahad Loxley about the altercation on Monday,' Xavos sighed, he wanted to smooth everything over after his students had caused such a fuss with the poor lad. This was the very thing he meant when he told Zucarius about his distaste for house politics. Needlessly obstructing a student willing to learn, and the teacher in charge never put a stop to it herself. Xavos thought to have a word with her too, she was only a student but would need to be spoken to as well and corrected. The whole ordeal had pushed another student away from learning a different school of magic, and Galahad was only one of many this had happened to. The bad blood between his house and Karak-Albrac would only spell disaster as their president continued to shirk his responsibility. The old wizard decided then and there that he would not put this off, today would be the day he made amends with Galahad Loxley. It was late into the morning already, he had to move quickly as he was mostly unaware of the Karak-Albrac duelist’s schedule beyond his friday afternoon dueling club. 
Xavos quickly placed his tea kettle back on the counter and grabbed his red robes and hat, wanting to look the part of the Fritz'Eleo Headmaster. He hurried to the top floor of his tower up a spiral staircase. At the top was a dark room, only illuminated by a red glow from a stone in the ceiling once he waved a hand. This room held small shelves carrying tiny magical objects for various high level incantations. Dragon scales, dried mandragora, bubbling troll fat, diamonds and other gems, a bar of fools gold, a cursed genie lamp absent a genie, and a few hairs from a lich’s nose along with that lich’s toe bones– just to name a few of the many curiosities he owned. In the middle of the room was the centerpiece, a rare item that was not made too often anymore. The methods had been lost to time and new, ‘more efficient’ methods existed now. Xavos snorted at the thought as he removed the crimson cloth from atop the item. An enchanted crystal ball, a relic of the old world. Unlike modern crystal balls this orb was possessed with the soul of a minor demon, though imprisoned and not nearly as pinpoint accurate it was much more powerful than the contemporary equivalents. They simply weren’t imbued with such power, merely a mundane glass orb that a divinationist would cast a spell to imbue it with their own mana for a short time. Maybe it was more efficient this way, but Xavos wasn’t a diviner and he was going to do it the old fashioned way, dammit. The evocationist rolled up his sleeves and began to ponder the orb, a red mist filling it as he rolled his fingers across the top. The words of power were muttered; rather than politely asking the artifact, Xavos demanded it do as he willed. As always, the orb’s own will pressed back against his, only to be beat back by the wizard’s superior power. Images flashed in his mind as the orb showed what he willed, first it was a map of the school within the orb,  with Galahad’s face being projected into the wizard’s mind. A red dot blinked at the Seeker’s house, letting Xavos know Galahad was there, or would be in the next ten or so minutes. Xavos pushed his thoughts on why he might be there from his head quickly. He hurriedly began to scry the wizard’s next moves. Within thirty minutes, he would be moving to the library judging by the thickness and richness of the deep purple-plum leading from that house to said library. He would walk right past his tower on the way.
	Xavos grabbed the cloth and concealed the orb again, “Enough time to finish my tea,” He told himself.

	Twenty-eight minutes later, Xavos had ventured onto his front porch with a cup of warm tea in his hands. He shivered despite the thick clothes he wore under his headmaster’s robes. The headmaster stood as he saw a small cluster of students walking toward the library. The tallest of which was the golden masked wizard he had seen around along with Galahad who was only a few inches shorter, “Act naturally Xavos,” The professor whispered to himself as he finished his tea. He stood and left his porch, intercepting the slow moving group of seven easily, “Ah, rare to see so many students wandering the grounds in this weather,” Xavos nonchalantly gave them a smile as he leaned on his staff. The six armed fey-witch, the gnomes, and another man all gave the headmaster a quizzical look. Most of them had Karak-Albrac armbands mixed with a Maximillion and Hamilton armband.
	“Can we help you, Headmaster Xavos?” The fey-woman asked. Xavos struggled to remember her name for a moment before shaking his head, grumbling at himself.
	“Well, to be honest,” He dropped the facade quickly, “I wish to speak with Mister Loxley. Privately.”
	Everyone looked at Galahad. The young man shrugged, “I spoke to Zucarius and Miss Manus here about the little fight I had in that evocation class already. It won’t happen again, sir.”
	“No, no, I had other topics to discuss beyond that. Could you spare a few moments of your time?”
	Galahad looked at the fey-woman, “Looks like I’ll be a little late, Miss Club President,” He teased, “Fine, I can talk, sir.”
"Come, walk with me," Xavos beckoned him, "I won't take up too much of your time."
The young duelist stepped in line with the red wizard, the two of them strolling back down the path. Xavos waited for them to be out of earshot of the other students before he cleared his throat, "I actually wanted to apologize to you, young Loxley. The conduct of my house has been… regrettable," He said looking at the young man, studying his expression.
 Galahad shook his head, "You don't owe me an apology, sir. As I understand it, you’ve been gone for quite some time."
Xavos shook his head and sighed, "Oh but I do, while I may not have been here in Fairgarland for a time, House Fritz'Eleo is still my responsibility, in part. I find it utterly reprehensible that a young lad such as yourself was made to feel denied the ability to learn. That is why you're here, after all, not to engage in witless feuds between houses. Am I correct?"
"You are, sir." Answered Galahad.
"So, as you recall, I have seen your duelist club and I approve of it," The old wizard continued.
"How could I forget," Galahad chuckled, "You aren't planning another impromptu duel are you?"
"Goodness no, at least, not yet,” Xavos chuckled, “Let me cut to the real reason I wanted to speak with you," Xavos stopped in the middle of the path and turned to Galahad, "You wanted to learn evocation and I assume you still do. Would you be interested in learning it from me personally?"
Galahad's face was a mix of excitement and worry, "I would, but I don't know if I have the time," He exhaled, exacerbated, "I switched into another conjuration class, actually. I also have my two clubs, my tutoring and my council member duties…"
"Is that all you're worried about? As a headmaster I can give you credits, if you need them.”
	Galahad sighed, “Well, as nice as those would be, I don’t think I really need them.”
	“If you have time on Saturday, we could spend an hour in the morning with your tutoring, leaving you quite a time for the rest of the day,” Xavos offered, “We could take as long as you like, months, years, decades if you find you like it! I wish to see you learn my field, as I understand it you are adept at abjuration. You even casted a sixth rank spell in the duels despite never taking an abjuration class here.”
	“Ah, come on,” Galahad chuckled, “That ranking system is way out of date. It's a lot easier now than it used to be. The maze spell I trapped Harold in is merely the ace in my sleeve. It was the highest level spell my father knew.”
	“Then let me teach you further. A powerful abjurationist will easily pick up evocation. Will you not at least give it a try?”
	The duelist finally relented, “Sure. We can try it. But I would like the credits, it’ll make my later years here easier.”
	“Wonderful! Will I meet with you tomorrow morning at eight in the arena?”
	The student nodded, “Of course, I’ll see you then. I gotta run, I’ll be late for the club. See you then, headmaster.”
	“Yes, yes,” Xavos nodded and watched him go. He would kill two birds with one stone tomorrow, teaching Galahad evocation and seeing if he could determine who’s son he might be through casting technique.

	. . . . .

“Master Harold, you have hardly eaten your food,” The old live-in butler, Thomas whispered to the prince who simply waved him away. Harold sat at the far end of a long table that stretched from one end of the dining hall to the other. His chair was the furthest from the head where his grandfather Garnalga Babarry sat overlooking the spread of the family Thanksgiving feast. Harold’s father, Horace Babarry sat to the right of his grandfather at the head of the table, his eyes never once passing over him.
	“He has the right of it, Harold, you had best eat,” His younger brother, Edgar urged from beside him.
"I'm not hungry," Harold grumbled.
"Is… something the matter?" Another of his brothers asked. It was Stewart, only a year older who sat across from him. His worried expression gave Harold reason enough to at least try some of the food set before him. He quickly stuck a cut of the turkey in his mouth and chewed.
	“There, now cease your worrying, both of you.” Harold said between bites. 
	“And why shouldn’t they be worried,” Said Gregory, the eldest brother, “After all, they have such a disappointment for a brother.”
	“That’s uncalled for, Gregory,” Stewart hissed at his elder.
	“Is it? If the papers are to be believed, then he has disgraced the family name once more,” Gregory replied before taking a sip from his wineglass.
	“Is it true?” Their father spoke from across the table, “Were you really bested?”
	Harold’s head hung low as he willed up the courage to reply to his father. He swallowed, forcing himself to look up, “It is true,” The face of his father reddened, his brow narrowing, “He is no normal man– if he is one at all! He could best Gregory, much less me!” Harold tried his best to convince his father, but it was already too late.
	“Gregory was not the one who was bested, you were! You let some vagabond waltz all over you and tarnish our good name!"

At once, Harold's eyes snapped open and he was awake, lying back in his bed, in his dorm at Fairgarland. Though it had been a dream it was a reflection of the reality he had lived only a few weeks ago. His father had been livid, nearly throwing him out of the house before his grandfather interrupted him.

"A young man with fiery-red and orange eyes, if I recall," Garnalga Babarry had silenced the room with his commanding tone. The head of the Babarry family stood from his chair and walked over to Harold, instructing that he alone should follow him to the library.

Harold sat up in his bed, going to his nightstand and opening the first drawer, where he held the book his grandfather had given him. It was a census much like the one he had read before, only his grandfather knew something was wrong with it.

"Tell me, Harold, have you already looked into this Loxley fellow?" Garnalga Babarry had asked him as he opened the book.
"I have, but I found nothing in my own copy. No noble family had such a son named Galahad." Answered the prince, "Though he could easily be lying about his name."
His grandfather stroked his beard for a moment before giving his reply, "I thought as much myself, however I know you are more clever than your father would care to admit. Have you any leads?"
Harold felt a swelling of joy in his chest, an eagerness returned to him, "I have a few. As I said, he knows how to chain his spells together in quick succession. Only nobility and war-magi of the old world know how to do that."
"If what you say is true, you are correct in your assumption. Good. To cast so swiftly in the heat of a duel is something few know, I shall narrow it down for you further by marking off those who do not know such skills." Garnalga took a wand from his coat pocket and began making scratches in the book on several pages, crossing out many of the families with a magicked red 'X' over them. "Your copy is newer than my own, however there is a discrepancy between them," He explained before closing the book and handing it to his grandson.
"You know this?" Harold asked meekly.
Garnalga Babarry nodded solemnly, "I do, though I do not yet know to what extent. I merely perceived that the book had been magically altered some time ago."
"Altered? It cannot be just your copy then." Harold surmised.
"Indeed, I had the same thought and cross-referenced the books of my subjects and peers, each having been similarly altered."
The surprise on Harold's face was plain,  "Was this done legally?"
"No doubt, and by quite the powerful wizard, but that much is obvious. Take my copy and find the discrepancy, then perhaps you will learn who this Loxley is… and save face within the family."
A smile crossed the prince's lips and he held the book tight against his body, "Thank you, Grandfather! After I learn who he is I will redeem myself in our next duel!"  
"Do not be so certain. There are some of those families even I would struggle to match." His grandfather warned. "Now go, before you and your father ruin our Thanksgiving supper."

Though his grandfather seemed harsh at times, it was he who thought to help him along, not his own father. It was any wonder to the prince that he liked the old man more. Looking at the census Garnalga Babarry had given him, he quickly grabbed his own and began comparing them again. He had already gone at least a hundred pages through. Though his grandfather had narrowed it down there was no reason he should not be thorough. He would look over the nobility again when he had finished his initial comparison. Hours passed and yet he found nothing even up until the end of the census. Harold glowered at the pages, flipping the books over and going back to the front of both. A moment passed while he rubbed his eyes and groaned, what was he to do if he found nothing? When he opened his eyes again he realized he was looking at the front matter of the census. Curiosity took hold of the prince and he opened the same page on his own copy.
Nothing. Nothing had been changed, nothing was different, nothing came up short-- but then something did. The book counted every single citizen in the country, the births and deaths of everyone in two simple, summarized counts. It was a census after all, and though Harold's copy was 'newer' it was merely a reprint of the same census. There should be no difference in births or deaths, and yet the count in Harold's copy registered one person less than his grandfather's. It was as Garnalga Babarry said: they had actually done it, whoever they were they had actually removed Loxley from the census. Harold quickly turned the pages on either book, matching up each noble family and war-magi. The list now was only six different families, two of which were fully demi-human. The possibility of being adopted persisted but they would come last. He would narrow this down further, family by family until he had his answer. First he would reconfirm his suspicions in those fiery red-orange eyes.

	. . . . .

	A sleek black car with a single gold line along either side slowly rolled through downtown Lindiburg. Fredrik sat in the driver’s seat with Galahad riding shotgun. In the back was Suzie, Rald, and Manus. The fey-witch’s eyes were glued to the window of the sportscar, staring at the snowy, sleepy town around them. She watched every building as they went by, wondering what they could hold beyond their dim windows.
	“I bought too much candy,” Suzie mumbled to herself, “Probably enough for the whole term.”
	“Did you find anything good, Rald?” Galahad asked.
	The goblin nodded and dug through the bags at her feet, “I found some neat candy at that store Suzie blew her tuition at, a dress for the summer dance, and a cute new set of robes that should keep me warm.”
	“Oh, those robes were wonderful,” Miss Manus agreed, “Mayhaps I should have bought something for myself.”
	The goblin smiled, “I can’t imagine you in anything other than those comfy looking, fluffy robes. But if you want to go back sometime, I’m sure Galahad will take you. Maybe you could come over again too, a few of my siblings thought you were ‘totally cool.’”
	“Me? Cool?”
	Galahad smirked, “Hear that Miss Manus? You’re popular now!”
	“We’re here!” Fredrik interrupted, “Thank you for riding with Jeoffrey chauffeurs, please gather your belongings and trash before exiting the vehicle and have a good day.”
	“Are you going to do that when we get out too?” Suzie asked, “See ya later, Rald!”
	“I’ll see ya at school, Hills, Lox, Manus, and Fred!” Rald called with the others returning the good-byes. She stepped from the car, a bag in both hands as she hurried inside and out of the freezing air. 
Her father, Crud, stood behind the counter of his store even though it was a slow day, “Hey, lil’ greenie. Have fun with your friends?”
“Yup. Here Dad, catch!" She reached into her bag and threw a piece of hard candy his way.
Crud caught it and looked it over for a minute before smiling, "Ohh, I haven't had a Gut Buster in years!" The old goblin's smile widened when he looked back to his daughter who was now showing off the clothes she had purchased.
"Lookin' to score a man with those?" He teased, raising a brow. 
"Daddy!" Rald groaned, "These aren't for that!"
"Then what's with that one?" He pointed to the dress, "That one for keepin' ya warm?"
"It's for the summer dance, Dad. I don't know why I'm even explaining this," Rald nursed her head, "Where's my blockhead brother?"
"Blud? He's upstairs with that San girl, practicing." Said Crud, pointing a thumb back at the stairs.
"Practicing?" Rald parroted her father, "Practicing what?"
"Can't you smell the cooking? They've been at it all day," The old goblin grumbled, "My stomach's been growlin' the whole time."
	Rald frowned and headed to the back and up the stairs into her home. Her shoes came off and she hurried to her bedroom before her siblings noticed her. The goblin’s father was right, the scent of gore, blood, and fresh meat hit her nose. Despite the dumplings and ice cream she had gotten with her friends, her stomach growled. Within her private bedroom she quickly set about putting everything away. By human standards it would have been quite small, but to a sub four foot, green-skinned goblin, she could easily be cozy. She had a little half-sized bed with a low frame, a fluffy pink down comforter, with numerous pillows. A single stuffed manticore plushie lay on her bed. It had a grotesque, snarling face, a mangy looking mane, and a soft spine on its tail all pointing to its years of use comforting the goblin. There was also a small TV on a dresser with a dusty, disused, hand-me-down VHS and DVD combo player. Rald had intended to put her purchases away, but the scent of food was getting to be too much and now she needed to see if she could eat something. 
	A few of Rald’s siblings were crowded by one of the entrances to the kitchen, all staring with wide eyes. The goblin-witch heard before she saw, “GO!” San hollered.
	“Yaaah!” Blud’s warcry was followed by a squelch. Rald poked her head over her siblings. A tarp was laid across the floor with blood streaked across it and the white drawers. The sink was full of sinew and half eaten eyes. Blud had driven a massive axe into the neck of a dire boar’s corpse. Blud panted and released his enchantment, “Trollspit! I can’t keep this up, San.”
	“You must! Doing well!” San encouraged him with a smile, “Last meal good. Go on Culinary Cooking Champion soon.”
	“There’s no way we’d win on that human run crap. Maybe on Malgar’s Mean Cookin’.” 
	“Not if we don’t cook boar! Chop! Chop!” She grabbed a glaive and took a big slice out of the boar. Blud sighed and did the same. The two skinned and chopped up the boar, the goblin set about skinning the meat. Some of the boar was prepared to boil, the rest would be grilled into pork chops or cooked into a big slab of meat. They didn’t do as much with the innards as most orc cooks did. 
	The pots and pans full of meat and innards were plopped down onto the stove top and into the oven. Both casters drew their implements and looked at one another. San glared while Blud took hold of his feelings. Fire burst from the stove top and oven, quickly and surprisingly cooking the boar meat quite well. Blud used his magic again to draw out the meats and held them in the air while Reccoa slashed through them with a polearm before both of them worked to plate it up and garnished with pineapple and butter. All of it was moved to the table where the goblin’s younger siblings as well as Rald hurried to devour the delicious morsels with Blud and Reccoa leaving some for themselves, “Alright…” Blud wiped his brow, “Done?”
	“Again. I collect deer next,” The beetle woman excitedly said.
	The front door opened and closed down the hall, “I’m home!” Root called, “Something smells good!” 
	Blud slowly looked around the blood stained and bone covered kitchen, “Oh no. She’s early.”
	“Early?”
	“Blud? What are you–” Root stopped and looked around her precious kitchen, a silence ran through the room so thick you could hear a pin drop, “My beautiful kitchen…” Blood and gore covered everything as well as the two chefs who stood timidly in the center of the room.
	“Mom, I–”
	“Blud. I’m going to go downstairs,” The mother goblin slowly and calmly said, “This kitchen had better be SPOTLESS when I return, or you’re going to have to find a dorm on campus,” Root left quickly, stomping over to the stairs, “And you better have a plate of whatever you made ready for me!”
	“Hurry,” Blud ordered Reccoa, “Please,” The panic was obvious in his voice as he started to frantically get out the trash bags. 
	Rald chuckled, “Better start burning everything! Ash might be easy to clean up!”
	“Yessums! Good idea!” Reccoa replied.
	“SAN! NO!” Blud shouted before the room was bathed in a surprisingly gentle fire.

	. . . . .

	Every member of Karak-Albrac took their seat at the table. The scent of fish was overpowering, even over the sweet perfume that Suzie wore, “Can’t believe ya picked a place like this,” Holmit grumbled.
	“Afraid of a little fish?” Suzie teased.
	“Nay. Just never got much of a taste for it. Eastern food neither,” He continued as he examined the conveyer that went around the room.
	The floor, walls, and ceiling were all a sanitized white tile. The booth they sat in was red and plush, and the table was a fake marble color and texture. Holmit was bewildered as a plate with a little cover went by with a piece of raw fish above a roll of rice bundled up in a piece of seaweed, “By Raggald-Berak’s holy beard, they mean to poison us with raw meat,” He hissed.
	Fredrik shook his head, “I understand you have not done this before, but I can assure you it is safe to dine on. Lots of safety measures are in place for this. Reminder to keep the plates you eat off,” He grabbed two yellow ringed plates for himself. Salmon and cucumber rolls.
	A waiter approached in a bright pink apron, a human woman who bowed for the table of wizards, “Can I get drinks for anyone?”
	“A bottle of sake for the table,” Todd requested, “Can I get a sashimi dinner plate, please?”
	“Of course! Anyone else?”
	“A plate of Philadelphia rolls for me,” Galahad requested, “Manus?”
	“Uhm,” The fey-witch felt overwhelmed by all of her options, “Just some tea for me. I will partake of the food going around the room.”
	“Can I get a bottle of that Japanese soda? With the glass marble tops? Uh, green apple, please,” Suzie quickly requested. 
	All eyes turned to holmit. He was even more overwhelmed than Manus had been. Fredrik nudged him, “How about a salmon and tuna donburi? It is cooked.”
	“Ah, that sounds wonderful,” He quickly agreed, “And a second bottle of that alcohol for me.”
	“Got it. I’ll bring that all right out,” The waiter bowed again and left, writing everything down.
	The mono-eye looked very hungry, the most hungry Galahad had seen him, “Thank you for picking this place. I love their food,” Todd smiled.
	Fredrik nodded and chuckled behind his mask, “I recall your requests to be driven here for lunch!”
	“T-that was four years ago… I was a lot smaller then,” He tapped his fingers together timidly, “I have to request an open cart to ferry me into town now.”
	“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” Miss Manus assured him as she checked another plate of sushi, “Ready to start our short meeting?” There were multiple nods around the table. The fey-witch cleared her throat before continuing, “Thank you all for reinstating me as your president. I will not let you down, just like every year before this. Next, in house news: our duelist has healed and is making great strides in teaching every house about dueling. He still has not yet had to put his power to the test against another house. Tensions with Fritz’eleo are rising. A few houses are taking our side like Zucarius, but most remain neutral. Pranking on our students has decreased dramatically, either due to our alliance or the focus on Mr. Loxley for pranks,” She smirked at him before returning to her speech, “You all passed your classes and are continuing on your way through your studies. Anything I missed?”
	“There’s rumors of those red bands wanting to replace Harold,” Suzie pointed out as she grabbed a plate from the carousel, “But his council is too chicken to go against him.”
	“Rumor mongering again?” Holmit grumbled, “I would suggest getting involved, especially Galahad. But I’m sure I know what you all will say.”
	Fredrik nodded along with Manus and Todd, “It is not our place to intervene. If one of them approaches us for help, perhaps our duelist will be willing.”
	“If not,” Manus continued, “We can only motion for the collection of presidents to impeach him.”
	“Whata’ya think, Loxley? Care to go toe-to-toe with him again?” Suzie jested.
Galahad shrugged, “I know his mana now. Maybe I could three-to-zero him.” 
	“Now that’d really rile him up!” The gnome laughed, “I wonder when the rematch of the century will happen. Ah, anything else?”
	“Well, I would like to see who is willing to replace me once I have graduated and transitioned to a full-time teacher,” Miss Manus quietly explained, “Fredrik? Suzie?”
	“Not I?” Holmit grumbled.
	Fredrik shook his head, “I understand her decision. You are in your seventh year, compared to Todd’s eighth and Suzie and my ten. Not to mention Miss President’s dozen. You are a good transmutationist, and command a deal of respect. We simply have the experience.”
	The dwarf’s sigh signaled his concession, “I understand. But I’ll get my chance in a few years.”
	“Well,” Todd continued, “I think Fredrik might be a good pick. A more gentle hand for our house.”
	“What’s that supposed to mean?” Suzie sneered at the mono-eye. 
	“I like Suzie,” Holmit declared, “She should keep the riff-raff in line.”
	Eyes turned to Galahad. The duelist was staring at the menu’s desserts while picking at his ear. He looked up at the council, “Huh? Me? In my opinion, I shouldn’t really have a say, I've only been on the council for little more than a month. Let Miss Manus break the tie.”
	The fey-witch thought for a few moments, folding her many arms and frowning, “I believe I need more time to decide. I was hoping one of you would decide they did not want the position to make it easy. But, as neither of you have, I would request more time to mull it over.”
	“You do have two terms to decide,” Fredrik nodded in agreement, “It appears our food is here.”
	Before long, everyone had their food, either ordered or from the carousel around the room. Cups of alcohol were poured for all, and friendly, warm conversations were abound. For once, Miss Manus felt like her council meetings weren’t something that just had to be done, it was more like spending time with friends like she had only recently learned to do.

	. . . . .

	Sean Reagal had retreated to his private sanctum for the night, fatigue from a busy day within his house left him tired. Bookshelves lined the walls, each one holding old, dusty tomes and scrolls of parchment within tubes. He wrote slowly in his journal, cataloging the various goings on throughout the campus over the week. There had been three fights over the last few days, higher than usual. An orc and a mono-eye had gotten into a fistfight in the snow but made up quickly after one of Sean’s task masters intervened. Another was two wizards, each only getting one spell off, putting each other to sleep. The third slightly concerned the president. Galahad had a little spat with the evocationists in a classroom. The duelist had turned himself into the dean who merely gave him a slap on the wrist along with the evocationists, but what if he got into a bigger fight? Galahad could easily demolish most who would try him. Sean was worried, unsure if even he could stop a rampaging Galahad. He wrote as much into his journal.
	With a sigh, he set aside his journal. A handwave snuffed out all the candles and he stepped through a doorway and into the main room of his dorm. The living room was decorated with expensive art pieces, paintings and a designer couch with a matching coffee table. At the couch, a man sat, reading through a thick tome and making marks, “Harold,” Sean greeted, “What is the occasion for you barging into my dorm?”
	“No hospitality for an old childhood friend?” Harold frowned and mock sighed, “I wish we had the friendship our fathers have.”
	Sean rolled his eyes as he went to his mini fridge and grabbed a bottle, “Funny for you to say that. Aye. Would have been nice. But your mad grab for power and fame has spurned all your friendships.”
	“I do not know what you are on about,” Harold brushed off his fellow president’s comments.
	“Me, Rita, Shanessa, Sophia, and even Manus. I remember when we were all the best of friends in the boarding school here at Fairgarland! Visions of grandeur, power, and what have you all got into your head,” Sean hissed as he poured himself a mug of rum with soda, “Tore us all apart.”
	“I am NOT that Harold! I am now like my father. Powerful and respected,” He protested.
	“Respected? Feared maybe. You lost a fight once and you completely changed. If I didn’t know better, I would say this recent Galahad situation is what’s changed you again.”
	“Sean. Please, I am not here to fight with you,” Harold quickly changed tones as he interrupted the other president, “I wanted to extend an olive branch to you. We, my house, have fallen on hard times. Our enemies all unite against us and even you have thought to join them.”
	“‘Enemies?’ I’ll ignore that, but aye. I have.”
	“Sean. I want to be friends with you again. Manus and Shanessa have completely spurned me. I hear Rita helped Galahad win against me and Sophia has not spoken to me in years. But you, you and I were like brothers, weren’t we? You must feel the same if you came to see me two weeks ago,” Harold stood with his friend in the small kitchenette, “A small token. From my father’s reserves, the first of two gifts,” He handed over a bottle of dark, red wine. 
Sean’s eyebrows raised as he checked the label. Rosegold Meadows, one of the fifty some bottles brought from the old world to this one. Indeed, it was marked with a twelve. He had only had a sip of this wine once in his life, “I am listening,” He put the bottle in a cupboard, “What is it you want with me?”
	“The olive branch, like I said. Our houses are both strong and will be stronger together. I will not ask you to go against the others, just have our backs.”
	Sean nodded, “Fine. We have little quarrel between our houses, to be honest.”
	“And my second gift, I would like to assist you with garnering a guest speaker for your school of magic,” Harold explained, “Pull some strings and such for you.”
	“Oh? Who did you have in mind?”
	“The namesake of your house of course! Arthur Maxamillion: grandmaster of abjuration and hero of the new world,” The evocationist flourished as though he were introducing the man in question.
	Sean nearly spat out his drink, “He is the only grandmaster of abjuration alive! How will you get him!?”
	Harold chuckled and poured himself a shot of rum, “Ye of so little faith. Lady Hamilton was not the only benefactor they had. Both our fathers worked to aid them. The disgraced wizard king and his wizard scholar advisor. That could be the two of us some day. I am sure my father could get his attention,” He assured his friend.
	Sean tapped his foot, “I see no reason to say no. I pray you can work your magic. Or your father’s magic.”
	“Wonderful!” The prince downed the shot and shuddered before chuckling again, “We should find a day to… hang out, as they say.”
	“Yes. We should.”
	Harold nodded and smiled, “I should take my leave. You need your sleep for a long relaxing weekend.”
	“It has been a tiring time,” Sean admitted, “My council meeting today–” He stopped himself from over-explaining, “Forget it. Have a good night Harold– I mean, friend.”
	“Same to you,” Harold stepped from the abjurationist’s dorm with a smirk on his face.

	White. The entire campus of Fairgarland Academy was coated in a layer of powdery white snow. The cold of autumn now seemed warm in comparison as winter had rolled in before the next semester began. It came with cold, crisp air, low hanging icicles, frost on windows, and snow piling up on the trees and shingles of every building. Most noticeable to each student was the steaming breath from every creature living in Fairgarland save for Headmaster Crixx, who as a construct need not breathe at all. Snow was unavoidable but for the magicked paths of the campus, enchanted stone that allowed no ice or snow to slip up any pedestrians. The Fairgarland Houses changed as well, each one’s banner colors muted in the coldness of winter, while inside they became every student’s escape from the chilling winds with cozy magicked fireplaces and soft blankets and comforters adorning every bed, couch and chair. Each student was dressed accordingly, layers and layers of wool, fur and cotton coats, leather jackets, trench coats, wool knit caps and hoods. The students who could not afford such things were not without some warmth as the school had provided enchanted lanterns that produced their own warmth spells each day, allowing for safe travel from each side of the campus. Galahad himself was neatly dressed in a wool overcoat knitted and provided to him by Blud and Rald’s mother, Root.
 
	“I’ll not hear any protesting,” The goblin had told him, “Don’t worry about the size, just try it on!” Galahad had struggled to keep it on his shoulders as he put his arms through the sleeves. It was much too big for him, but Root simply giggled at him, waved her wand and the wool overcoat shrank to size.
	“Not bad,” Galahad smirked at her in the mirror, “Not bad at all. It’s a little snug, though.”
Root rolled her eyes and shoved him away, shooing him out of the house. “You can keep it if you keep Blud out of trouble!” She warned him.
	“What about Rald?” Galahad had asked.
	“She can handle herself.”

That had been a few days ago. Galahad smiled to himself, thinking about how much the Raxpedalias had done for him. Support in the duels, a Thanksgiving feast, and even a few warm coats and cloaks. Today was the first day of his winter semester. Most of Galahad’s classes had remained the same, Alchemy 101 being one of the easier classes as well as Conjuration 101. Now he was taking Alchemy 201 and had decided to drop conjuration altogether as he had lost interest in it. Instead he had decided to take Evocation 115, figuring as the house duelist and head of the dueling club he would need to expand his knowledge of martial spellcasting. He was on his way to the transmutation building across the campus when he realized that for a few moments there had been no other students in sight. Something was up, he knew in his gut. Slowly he drew his staff from his bag.
"GET 'EM!" Came the battle cry of a dozen students jumping up from the bushes on either side of the walkway, each pelting snowballs at the duelist from all sides. Galahad could only hope to block so many before he was struck-- each snowball kept their form, sticking to him like gum. He quickly understood what was happening, and turned to lock eyes with the president of the illusionary house herself, "Rita!"
"Hey, Galahad, how's the arm? Hope you had a good Thanksgiving break!" She stuck her tongue out at him before she turned tail and ran, her peers following after her before they all cast an invisibility spell on themselves.
Galahad tried to brush off the snowballs, but they merely got stuck to his hand instead. This particular spell was something he hadn't seen yet, which he didn't know whether to be angry or impressed. That imp must have thought this one up weeks ago, he figured. Now walking was a whole new challenge, the weight and awkwardness of the snowballs forcing Galahad to trudge across campus as if he were in five feet of snow.
"G-guess I t-t-technically am…" he grumbled to himself through shivers. As he neared the road on the west side of campus he passed by one of the warmth lanterns hanging on a sign by the crosswalk. Immediately some of the snowballs dropped off of him and melted like ice cream on hot pavement.
"So, that's the trick, is it?" He mused, quickly waving his staff over his body, blowing warm air across himself until he was clear of snowballs. Galahad shook his head and made for the other side of the campus. Rita's gonna get some pranks in return, he thought, she never said I couldn't fight back. He needed to learn a dispel invisibility spell soon. 
Along with most other students, Galahad crossed the street on the west side of campus to the teaching buildings. His first class was in the same room as last time with the same teacher. Miss Manus stood at the front of the room, browsing her textbook for the class in between speaking to some of the younger students. She had a few students in front of her, each one trying to hand something in. The duelist decided to leave her be for now. Soon after Galahad had taken a seat in the front, the bell rang and the rest followed suit.
	Manus stood at the front of the room and scanned the crowd, “Good morning, I am glad to see so many returning faces. It appears I was not… hard enough on you all last term,” She jested, though many were unprepared for the fey's new attempts at humor and weren't sure if it was a joke at all. Manus ignored their lack of response and quickly continued, “Welcome to Transmutation 102: Introduction part two. I will not take up too much time, we all know what is expected in this class at this point. Last term focused on transmuting liquids, a very malleable form of matter. This term will be focused on transmuting solids into various forms. A much harder prospect, but not as hard as the ever elusive gaseous matter we will focus on next term. Any questions? No? Mister Loxley, if you would, please come to the front and demonstrate what I taught you over the break. It makes it quite easy for me to direct if I do not have my hands full.”
	“Right,” Galahad nodded and took a spot at a table and drew his staff. Miss Manus waved a crystalline hand and summoned a glass cup full of sand. The wizard took a deep breath as all eyes were on him. He traced the rim of the glass with a finger as he muttered to himself. In a flash, he brought his hand up and jabbed his middle and pinky finger into the sand, his other three fingers clutching a tiny pearl. 
	“As you can see from his technique, unlike with a liquid, touching the material you are working with can make working with solids much easier,” Manus explained, “Galahad, when you are ready.”
	The wizard’s mouth was dry. A pounding in his chest made him feel off. He took a deep breath and channeled his mana into the sand. There was a warm tingling in the tips of his fingers as the mana left his body. The sand glowed slightly and began to climb the wizard’s fingers. Particulates started to fall off when they got to the bend of the fingers as they turned into a red liquid. He grunted before tensing every muscle in his body and blasted every bit of sand into the air around him like a sudden sneeze.
	Miss Manus sighed and used a cold swirling gust of air to collect all the sand and placing it back into the glass, “It is understandable to struggle with it,” She assured him, “You may sit.”
	Galahad said nothing and shoved his fingers back into the sand. He regulated his breathing and waved his staff in the air. The words of magic escaped his lips. Again, the sand crawled up his fingers before turning into a liquid, this time pinkish. He kept focused, the speed of the moving sand increased, and more and more liquid was made from the sand. All at once, the rest of the sand lifted out and became a liquid, and only splashed on the desk a few drops. Galahad exhaled with relief along with the rest of the class before picking up the glass and downing it, “Needs more strawberry in this lemonade,” He noted aloud.
	“Stubborn as always. Please sit,” Manus gently scolded. Galahad nodded and trudged to his chair, “Your task for today is to transmute sand into a liquid. Any questions?”
	“How come the glass didn’t turn to liquid too?” A young woman asked.
	The fey-witch nodded, “Excellent question. While glass does not have anti-magic properties it does resist it, making it a great material to hold magical compounds. Similar to how scientists use glass beakers for acids and such,” With the snap of her crystal fingers, a cupboard on the side of the room opened to reveal more glass cups full of sand, “Please get one or two at your own convenience.”
	Galahad settled back into his seat and stripped off his cloak and coat, the sweat still trickling down his body as he tried to let the cool winter air lower his body temperature, “So you’re her duelist and her favorite student too?” A snide comment came from the gnome next to him, “Give you an A last term, did she?”
	“I had one of the lowest grades in this class last term,” Galahad grunted, “If anything, she’s harder on me because she expects more now.”
	The gnome snorted, “I doubt it.”
“Leave the guy alone,” A gryphonite with large wings behind him growled, “I know you’re still in the Seeker’s house, but this is the guy that got us insanely better lab times.”
	“Well, yeah but–” 
	“Just shut yer damn yap!” A dwarf passing by grunted, “Or this whole room’ll be jumpin’ down yer throat!”
	“Maybe we should transmute his mouth off,” A cat-man purred.
	The gnome shrank in his chair, “I-I’ll be quiet,” He whimpered.
	Galahad looked behind him at the few who had spoken up. Those that came to his defence and those who had overheard the conversation gave the duelist smiles, thumb-ups, or just nods of respect. He couldn’t help but smile back before returning to his studies. Like he had demonstrated to the class, he shoved his fingers into the sand and slowly transmuted it into strawberry lemonade again. He turned to see an orc, without touching the sand, turn it into a glass of clear water and then back to sand with ease. Galahad withheld his emotions and went back to practicing. Despite all of the power within him, such simple seeming magic continued to elude him. He resolved to practice more instead of continuing to harbor jealousy. 

	It was a quick jaunt to the duelists' second class. Like the first, it was in the same classroom as last time. Professor Sh’Lak was at the front of the room with her clipboard again and just like last term was directing students to their tables. The elf took one look at the duelist, “Table six again, Galahad.”
	With a silent nod, he made his way to the table and sat down, “Was wonderin’ when you’d show up, Lox,” Blud smiled as he started bringing out his textbook, “Good morning’.”
	“A good morning to you, too,” The duelist replied, “How was the rest of your holiday weekend?”
	“Well, despite my mom’s constant teasing, I hung out with San some more. We went to that new orcish place downtown and we both had way too much to eat,” He explained, “We also got in some dueling practice. Ya spend all your time with Manus?”
	“Not all of it. I actually rested and watched some TV. Every time I saw Miss Manus she wanted me to study or be taught something new,” Galahad smirked, “She’s working me really hard. I got a C in her class last term, to be honest.”
	“Alright!” The elven professor shouted as the second the bell rang, “You know who I am. But as a refresher after your week-long holiday where my precious teaching surely fled your heads as they were stuffed with turkey,” She grumbled to herself as she adjusted her metal visor, “I am professor Sh’Lak. Welcome to my second alchemy course. Last term we worked on consumed potions, this term will be topically applied salves. And poisons. It should be fun!” She threw her arms in the air to try and rile up her sleepy students only for her metal visor to almost fall on her face and bash her nose, “Looks like those stoppers are coming in handy already,” She sighed with relief as she put it up and tightened the screws, “Anyways. Open your book to page forty-seven. If you have questions, let me know, but I think you can all make a simple healing salve without my guidance at this point. We may have a use for them later in the week.”

	To Galahad's surprise, the alchemy class had gone on without any explosions or injury to students or Professor Sh'Lak. Blud had done well making his healing salve alongside the duelist, as did most students who had gotten over the initial shock of the crazed elven alchemist. Now it was time for Evocation 115. It took Galahad a moment to work up the courage to step into the evocation building. He already knew tensions were high between his house and Fritz’Eleo, but he was just another student that wanted to learn. He fixed his cloak and wandered inside. The evocation studies building was warm and the halls were covered with portraits and a few busts on pillars. The sofas and benches of the other buildings were nowhere to be seen, making students loiter around and lean against the walls. The sounds of conversations seemed to end just as Galahad entered the building. Eyes turned to him, most with the red armband of house Fritz’Eleo even glared.
	Galahad lifted his scarf over his face, leaving only his fiery eyes visible. With haste, he stepped into his first class and found a seat in the front. The rest of the students filed in shortly after, some whispering to one another as they sat in the back of the room. The only students near Galahad had armbands for the Seekers House or Maxamillion. None of them paid him any mind, but he could feel the glares of the Fritz’Eleo students like daggers in his back. He did his best to push it from his mind, thinking of what he had learned in his previous classes as he waited for the professor to arrive. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait much longer. A tall, lanky half-elven woman with thick glasses resting on the bridge of her nose took to the front of the room. She pulled her crimson hair back and blinked her ruby eyes at her class, “Forgive me for being late,” She brushed ash off of her plum colored robes, “There was a fire in my previous class. I am Ferrow Mjald, ninth-year of Fritz’Eleo. Welcome to Applied Evocation. No you are not in the wrong class, this class is also known as Evocation 115. Though it is a beginner course, I expect you to know how to cast evocation already. Now then–” She looked at the front row, “You in the front. Face coverings and hat off. I do not tolerate either in my classroom. Especially when your hat is so tall,” She heard a sigh before the hat was removed. She knew that face, those flame-colored eyes especially, “Ah,” Her lips turned into a frown, “You. Might I ask why I have you in my class?”
Galahad blinked, “To better help others learn in my dueling–” He grunted as he felt a sudden jolt strike his back. Numerous students behind him snickered.
	“Hmph,” Ferrow turned away from him and grabbed her textbook, “Let us turn to our textbook and begin.”
	Galahad grabbed his from his bag only for it to be ripped from his hands and into the hands of one of the evocationists in the back. All of them snickered as the person who did it smugly held the book up at their victim. Galahad bit his tongue, struggling to keep it in, “You lack the required materials for this class?” The half-elven teacher sneered as she looked up from her book, “You know–” She looked Galahad in the eyes, gasping and stepping back as she stared at the fiery, silent rage in his eyes. 
	From the back, another student shot off a little, near harmless firebolt at the Karak-Albrak wizard. With a screech, the chair he sat on flew back as the wizard stood. He whipped around in an instant, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, before swatting the bolt with his bare hand, reflecting it back at the attacker, striking them painfully in the chest forcing them to double over. With another wave of his hand, his book slammed into the nose of the man who stole it before it flew back to his hand, “Anyone else?” He snarled as he slowly sank to his seat, “No? Damn moss-collectors, the lot of you,” He slowly began to calm down, everyone in the room staring at him with wide eyes, “I don’t see why you all hate me so much. Your president is the one who gambled your precious lab time away.” 
"Why are you even here?" One bold evocationist in the back bellowed, "You come here to brag or somethin'?"
"I came here to learn, same as you," The duelist retorted.
"What's to learn? I bet you just came here to pick on the newbies."
"Why don't you all just shut up so we can all have our class?" One of the abjurationists snarked, the Seeker students grunting their agreement.
"Maybe we should take this outside, instead? Take back our lab time ourselves?" A snide evocationist voiced with only a bold few daring to agree.
Galahad stood up again, finally fed up with them. He stormed from the room, stopping right before the door and turning back with a scowl, “If you want them back so much, how about you come to my club? I’m sure you’ll do so much better than the prince did,” Galahad left the classroom, heading straight to the faculty offices and resolving to change his third class. From what he had been told, he would have to petition the dean to let him change classes. Fair enough, he told himself. He would have to explain himself to Dean Zuccarius anyways.

. . . . .

"So, who here can remember what caused the calamity of the old world?" Miss Manus asked her students from the front of her desk. "Anyone at all?"
One young student raised his hand, "It was caused by the demon Sol Eater, right?"
"Correct, but how did it happen?"
"He and his followers used their combined magicks to blot out the sun so the demon could… consume the world unabated?"
"Close, William. Sol Eater's ambition of total world domination was so vile, so mad that he plotted to extinguish all life in the old world and wipe the slate clean, leaving he and his followers alone to rule. He and his demons didn’t wish to simply blot out the sun, but to devour its mana entirely, thus his name ‘Sol Eater.’"
“Oh, right…” The young student blushed, embarrassed that he had forgotten something so obvious to his peers.
"Why would he do that?" Another student asked.
"No one knows why, many have surmised he was a madman and left it as such, but there are others who claim he was driven mad by another yet unknown force. There are some who theorize Sol Eater was once a man, not too different from ourselves, but his lust for power led him down a dark path that eventually brought him to chase our ancestors across the stars to this very world, where he was ultimately defeated and destroyed."
"Who defeated him?" One very attentive halfling student asked.
A half-elven boy snorted, “You must really live under a hill if you don’t even know that.”
Many of the students giggled at the halfling boy, only for a chill wind to run through each of them along with the flicking of the light switch, on and off. All eyes were on Miss Manus, who’s expression was a piercing  stare that was colder than any Fairgarland snow, "There are no foolish questions in my class.” She sternly announced, before looking at the halfling with a warm smile, “That brings us to the next topic, Radgild! The heroes of the old world and new! Often referred to as The Eight or even The Big Eight, they dealt with the demon Sol Eater. The great heroes of our time, some of which this very academy you all now attend celebrates, were some of the most wise, brave and powerful men and women the world has known. From all walks of life, they came together to put a stop to Sol Eater’s ambition. Some of you may already know who I speak of, but to belabor the point, House Maximillian and House Faith are both named after two such heroes, Arthur Maximillian and Nambra Faith, a grandmaster abjurationist and a fierce sorceress - both of which are still alive today, if you can believe it,” Manus smiled, watching the faces of her students disbelief at such a fact.
“The other six members of The Eight are as follows: Reece Grathar, the leader of The Eight and a paladin who hails from one of the old world kingdoms known as The Holy Empire, Vaelyn. He resides in the Holy See in the Vatican today.” 
“He’s alive, too?” A student wondered aloud.
“As an elf, he enjoys a long and youthful life,” Explained Manus, before turning to the other half of her class, “Then there was Thr-lack, an Orcish warrior coming from the East. Even to this day no one knows much of him, but he was one of the strongest of the Eight. Next was Heldir, a dwarven cleric who came from the dwarf hold Karak- Morgenthuul in Finland. Shine Bolt-Wrench," The mention of the name had every goblin student cheering, forcing Manus to wait for a moment before continuing, "she was an artificer and technomancer from Kentucky, some say she invented technomancy as a school of magic."
One of the goblin students raised his hand, which Manus quickly called upon, "Why don't we have a technomancy house?”
“Fairgarland Academy teaches the traditional magicks as opposed to the new advent of technomancy-- but on top of that, it is very expensive. You think your tuition is hefty now, but should Fairgarland fund a technomancy house your fees would likely double,” Manus turned and paced back towards the other students, "Seventh was Karl Farfanx, a ranger from the old world who sadly gave up his life in the effort to defeat the demon. His gravestone marks the edge of the Great Crack in the French countryside. And last but certainly not least was Ludolf Woodbarrow, a halfling cutpurse who managed to steal away the very materials required for the enemy's ritual: The heart of Fargoth the Divided. So you see Radgild, even smallfolk can stand up for themselves and the ones they love." She smiled at the halfling student, who sat up and seemed to look a little more confident in himself, “You will find a short assignment at the end of this chapter of your book. Please spend the rest of class working on it. It will be due on Thursday.”

	Manus finished her tea and watched her students all leave her class a short time before the noon bell rang. She took up the papers on her desk and swiftly sorted them before stashing them in a binder and bringing it under her cloak. The fey-witch adjusted her hat and cloak and stepped from her classroom to find someone waiting for her. For once, it was not Loxley, it was Prince Babarry. The princely wizard didn’t look as confident and regal like he usually did, Manus would even go as far as to describe him as disheveled, “Harold?” Miss Manus frowned.
	“President Manus. Have you seen your student and council member Galahad acting strange?” The wizard asked.
	“Hm? No. He has not acted off at all,” The fey-witch replied, “Why do you ask?”
	“Well, it would surprise you to know that he got into an altercation with some students in my house yesterday,” Harold explained, “Reflected a minor fire bolt and bashed another in the nose with a book they stole from him. He has been warned, as have my students.”
	“So he was retaliating. I will speak with him, but I still do not understand why you have seeked me out. To be honest, the absence of your courting made last term mildly pleasant,” She frowned.
	Harold leaned in and began to hiss, “He is NOT who he says he is. I am not sure who exactly Loxley may be yet, but he must be found out for the safety of all our students.”
	Miss Manus’s frown turned to a glare, “I care not who he truly is. He may be hiding his lineage, but I trust him.”
	“Are you sure? There have been whispers of a cloaked, bloody figure on campus. Could he be butchering people from the nearby towns?” 
	Manus turned heel, “I will not hear such baseless claims. Especially from you. Good day to you.”
	Harold grabbed the witch’s shoulders to keep her from leaving and spun her around, “Manus. This is not between you and me. This is about you. I am worried that man is up to something. I am worried about YOU.”
The fey-witch used four hands to slap him off, her eyes darkening as they looked into his, "I have never told a soul my true name, Harold, do you think me a murderer? Dean Zucarius knows who he is, and that is enough for me. I say again. Good. Day. Sir,” The force in her voice made Harold step down. He shrunk away from her, quickly retreating into his own mind. Manus found no more resistance as she left the building.
	The fey-witch stepped through the cold and across the heated, clear paths across the campus. How could Harold stoop so low to accuse her student of such a vile thing? Galahad butchering poor townsfolk? Such a thing wouldn't go unnoticed by the authorities. Zucarius himself, with his ever watchful eye, would never allow it! Other students hurried past her, freezing in the cold air as they wrapped themselves in their cloaks. Miss Manus sighed, the cold didn’t bother her much. Her breath, unlike the others around her, did not vaporize in the chilly air. She stepped off the path and onto the snow to let a crowd of students pass. The fey-woman’s lineage let her walk atop the snow rather than sink down into it, keeping her shoes from filling with the cold powder.
As she exited the frigid outdoors and into the cafeteria she sighed again, the heat of the building was apparent due to all the students crowding together and the heaters placed around the room on the walls. Manus quickly put in an order for a few cuts of sweet ham with steamed vegetables before looking for her usual spot. Galahad and Suzie were both already there, talking in hushed voices as they looked at a laptop over their food. Suzie had a plate of spaghetti and a salad while Galahad’s plate was piled high with a veritable mountain of fries and chicken strips, “Hello, friends,” Manus called from a distance to get their attention.
	Suzie slammed the laptop shut, “Hey, Manus,” She chuckled nervously.
	“Good to see ya,” Galahad smiled, acting a little more inconspicuous.
	“What were the two of you doing?” Manus wondered as she sat across from them.
	“Just watching a video,” Suzie hastily explained, “How has your new term been so far?”
	“Quite well, but I did learn something strange today.”
	“Oh?” Galahad idly ate a few fries, watching her carefully.
	“Galahad, did you get into a fight with some of the Fritz’Eleo students?” Miss Manus asked.
	Galahad nearly choked on his food, coughing for a few moments and drinking some water before finally speaking, “Yes. I did. Did Zucarius tell you?”
	“No, Harold did. What happened?” 
Suzie shook her head, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this,” She smirked. 
	Galahad took a deep breath and bowed his head, “Well. I took an evocation class. Applied Evocation specifically. Of course, they weren’t accepting of me.”
	“Any of us would have told you not to take this class,” The gnome groaned as she swirled up her spaghetti, “Did you at least give them a good beating?”
	“Eh, I bashed one in the face with my book they stole and mirrored a fire bolt back at someone else before that. Zucarius let me off with a warning since I was acting in retaliation,” Galahad explained, “He gave them warnings, too, since I struck them back, but they did start it.”
Manus nodded in understanding, “I will not reprimand you, Galahad. But I do not want you to resort to violence against other students like this outside of the arena. Not only will it make you look bad, but our house as well. Am I understood?”
“You are,” Galahad reached into his bag and revealed the mirror talisman. He put the necklace on and sighed, “I’ll stick to barriers and illusions to get myself out of any situations I may fall into. I just hope Rita can’t see me through this.”
“Good. Now that that business is out of the way, we should work on scheduling our next house meeting,” Miss Manus suggested, “I have you all to thank for reelecting me this year.”
“Of course. Who else would we vote for?” Suzie chuckled, “Holmit is in no way a good pick.”
	“I believe you or Fredrik would do just fine,” The fey-woman assured her, “Todd or Galahad could do some of the work in my stead as well. But I do agree that Holmit is a little too headstrong, but he is a valuable asset and wonderful debater. Speaking of, I shall need to appoint one of you as my successor once I graduate,” She noted, “I would not like to be your president while I am a teacher.”
	“And a master of transmutation, right? Isn’t that the goal?” Galahad quickly checked.
	“Of course. Though I am not incredibly worried about that. Could you two decide on a day for the meeting? I should be free any evening this week,” Manus asked as she was called for her food.
	“Let’s do Friday. Maybe we should do the usual?” Suzie decided, “You’ll work up a big appetite at your club, Loxley.”

Manus trudged up the steps of the transmutation building, heading for her master level transmutation class. She had just left her class on learning to teach. It had gone smoothly as it always did, but the constant back and forth was more draining to her than the mana she had to expend in her final class: Master Transmutation two. Behind her were Fredrik and Suzie, the latter of which was complaining about the stairs as she always did.
"Just lift your knees," Fredrik teased her, the gnome scowling at him before they both made it to the top. Manus was already waiting at the door where Headmaster Crixx greeted her.
"Good morning, Miss Manus. Suzie, Fredrik."
"Good morning, Mizz Crixx," Suzie smiled, still trying to catch her breath.
"A very good morning to you, Headmaster," Fredrik bowed his head before entering the classroom. Jasper Crixx turned to Manus with a wide smile on her porcelain white face, "It happened again!" She excitedly whispered to the pale, blue fey. 
Manus cocked her head to the side, looking up at the headmaster, "What happened again?" She asked cautiously, her mind racing at what the construct could mean. 
Jasper leaned in close, cupping a hand around her mouth, "My secret admirer left me another letter. Whoever he is, he is head over heels for me. Would you like to read it while we wait for the others?"
Manus eyed the letter that Jasper had drawn out of her robes, its broken wax seal looking oddly familiar to the fey, though she could not quite tell from where she had seen it. The sigil was of a hawk spreading its wings and soaring. Manus decided it wasn't worth thinking about, and instead took the letter her headmaster offered. The contents were full of flowery language and sweet nothings with piles and piles of compliments. It was no wonder that the construct professor was so cheery after every letter, they were very in-depth about her as a person, from the way her very form changed with her emotions down to the way her hair looked and felt almost real, a true wonder of artistry and magic. Even Manus blushed at the flattery in every word, but the last sentence mystified her.
"Professor, did you read this part here…?" Asked Manus, holding it up with three hands and pointing to the end with a fourth. Crixx squinted at the line, clearing her throat.
"I look forward to seeing you teach again."
"Could they be one of your students?" Manus inquired. Jasper put the letter back in her robes and thought for a moment.
"It could be, but I teach so many classes, it could be anyone."
"I disagree. The writing in that letter is much too elegant for any young student to have thought up."
"Do you think so? Perhaps it is one of the men in this class?" Crixx wondered, watching as several other students finally made their way up the steps and into her classroom. Manus eyed each of them as they passed by, recalling that none of them, while all attentive, were focused on much more than their mastery. Perhaps it was a facade, or perhaps it was a charismatic young student who could put words together on paper better than most could speak?
	Manus found herself shrugging, “I do not think I can place a name," She fibbed, as one such individual quickly rose to the top of her list of suspicions. She dared not ruin his plans however, as it was his secret to tell. Manus walked inside the classroom and saw Fredrik and Suzie idly chatting to one another, the golden wizard chuckling about something. Manus took her seat beside him and thought more and more about it. It would make sense he would be Professor Crixx's secret admirer, it lined up. But what if it was only obvious to her because of coincidence?
"So, Miss President, do you think we will pass with flying colors?" Fredrik leaned over to ask, breaking her train of thought.
Manus looked at him, his eyes barely visible through the holes in his mask, "Do you fancy the headmaster?" She quietly blurted out, watching for his reaction. To her shock, Fredrik's eyes betrayed nothing as they merely smiled back at her.
"Manus! You can't just ask him that!" Suzie hissed, more surprised than annoyed with the fey-witch.
"If you mean to imply my muse is in this very classroom, you are close." Came Fredrik's sly retort. "I never imagined Miss President would be interested in such things."
"Me neither," the gnome agreed.
Manus stared down at her desk, wondering just who he could have meant, "Neither did I," She squeaked out. If he wasn't after Headmaster Crixx's heart, then who was? Before she could think on it further, the construct in question took her place at the front of the classroom, her 'skin' practically glowing with glee.
"Alright everyone, today we will be practicing a technique I like to call division," With the wave of her hand she magically placed in front of each student a simple mechanical clock. Manus studied hers for a brief moment, its wooden finish over the metal gears and screws, the glass cover over the clock's face, most of the components of this clock were of a different material.
"As usual, I shall first demonstrate what I mean by 'division,' then I will instruct you on how to perform it yourself," Explained Crixx, taking hold of a clock of her own. She held it aloft, focusing her mana on the clock. After a few seconds the clock began to pull apart and float in the air before her, the materials sorting themselves from one another. Wooden panels from the clock floated to one side, the adhesive to another. The metals divided themselves up according to their elements, brass with brass and aluminum with aluminum. Screws, cogs and gears, even the hands of the clock were sorted by metals. As all the parts were sorted, Crixx waved her other hand, each of the sorted components clinging to one another before quickly melding together. Each of the metals fell onto the table with a THUNK, having been transmuted into small blocks of their respective elements. The glass was turned into an orb, which Professor Crixx placed between the metals. Lastly the wood, which was quickly turned into a single plank. After all the pieces were placed on the headmaster’s desk the class gave a round of applause.
	“The execution is quite simple really: you all know how to separate out different materials already. Same as always, feel out the different materials with your mana. This is similar, but you will be needing to manipulate small, fine materials rather than one large, mixed block of elements. Careful not to overcompensate for the gaps in material or you will likely destroy your clock. This is your task for this week. We will work on progressively more difficult objects. Next term, we will end with dividing objects and then turning them into new ones. Take your time today, figure out a way to divide that works for you,” Crixx instructed.
	Manus was quick to grip her staff. She set the clock on its back. First, she removed the wooden exterior, morphing it into a small wooden duck for fun and setting it aside. Next the glass face came off and was made into a small cube. The hands, face, gears, screws, and all other components were carefully pulled apart and sorted before being broken down to its base materials into little bars. Fredrick’s clockwork was floating in the air, each piece one by one was stripped off and put into a block of each respective material. Suzie used a powerful spell to conjoin every material into one large cube that swirled with each material slowly being drawn out into its own section of the large block. When the gnome finished, she waved a single finger, separating each into their own long, perfectly angled, rectangular bars. She grinned at Fredrik who chuckled at her flaunting among other would-be masters. Each student had their own way of performing the task at hand, few taking much time at all and even fewer struggling to perform as instructed. Jasper Crixx smiled at each of their skillful demonstrations, “Good, good, I see everyone has a firm grasp of division. I expected nothing less from you all. As I said before, we will be moving up in difficulty, so now we will try something a little more modern.”
	Soon enough each student found themselves staring down a digital clock that had been placed on their desk. Fredrik picked his up first, examining the exterior of the device before putting his hand to the chin of his mask, “Rubber and plastic,” He grumbled.
	Miss Manus looked across the device as well. There was a screen, most likely some form of clear plastic and a simple display behind it, “Do not try to break down the battery. We do not need a fire,” Professor Crixx warned, “The chemicals within can be volatile. And yes, magitech could have been even worse. The aetheric crystals can be volatile when taken out of its carefully made housing.”
	Fredrik was first to attempt to break down the clock with most others simply watching him. He easily removed the screws holding the device together. Plastic, rubber, and other man made components were placed to one side. He quickly removed the metals from the circuitry and placed them into neat stacks of raw material. He discarded the battery as instructed then turned to the rubber. It floated in the air before him. He removed the gauntlets from his hands and raised his hands to manipulate it. He brought his hands together, his fingers curled in and swiftly moved apart, rending the rubber to pieces. Next, he heated it up with a quick spell and formed it all together as a sphere. 
The wizard put his gauntlets back on as he noticed everyone watching him, “It is much tougher than it looks,” He admitted.
“As you all know, some man made materials such as rubber, glass, and plastic are resistant to our magicks,” Crixx explained, “And unlike glass, rubber and plastic need much more work to manipulate with our transmutation spells. Class is nearing its end. Please take one or two clocks with you to practice on until Thursday. Please have a good rest of your day. Class is dismissed.”

	Manus was eager to get to her last appointment of the day: Galahad’s tutoring. As usual, the fey-witch made her way to the library. The chilly darkness of winter made most students retire early for the night, most simply checked out a book and returned to their dorms after a hot meal. Not so for the duelist and his tutor, as it was the perfect place now to study undisturbed. Miss Manus had made a quick stop to collect a small bag of sand to instruct him with. She also had the clock from her earlier class to do a bit more practicing. Upon her approach to the usual table, Manus spotted a second person chatting with Galahad. They were swiftly recognized as Fredrik, obvious from his golden garb. The two spoke quietly, going over something on Fredrik’s phone, “Ah, President Manus,” The golden wizard gave her a small bow, “I feel as if a joke about not expecting you here would be unwelcomed.”
	“May I ask why you two are meeting in secret?” She eyed them both warily. With Harold’s warning and her student’s sudden bout of secrecy, Manus was starting to feel worry creep into her mind.
	“Simply forming some plans. Can two friends not do that?” Fredrik asked with a shrug. His president’s icy gaze made him nervous for once, “Well, we wanted the choice for our meeting place to be a surprise. Galahad, Suzie, and I have narrowed it down to three places.”
	“We’re going into town for it,” Galahad added quickly, “A little time out on the town as a group then get some food. Rald knows the town well and I thought you could use a break from academics. Even over the holiday break you were working on your schooling!” The duelist sank into his chair with shame in his voice, “You don’t feel like I’m going behind your back, do you?”
	Miss Manus took a seat and removed her hat with two hands before a third gently rubbed her forehead, “No, well, I do not want you to think you cannot have your secrets. Your identity and background are both shrouded in mystery afterall. I merely have a lot on my mind.”
	Galahad frowned and bowed his head, “In due time you’ll both know,” He quietly said while twiddling his thumbs, “But not now.”
	Fredrik was sensing his guilt quite easily and pat his friend on the back, “Please do not beat yourself up. I do not understand your need for this, but we will not pry. Good day to both of you,” He took his leave quickly.
	Miss Manus gripped the hem of her hat before putting it back on, “Is Galahad your real name? Or are you a fey avoiding using your real name?”
	“I promise you that I’m a man– a human man,” He assured her, “Galahad is my real name. But Loxley isn’t a last name,” He whispered, “What were we practicing?” He returned attention to their real purpose for the meeting.
	Manus blinked, “Of course. We are attempting to increase your speed with transmutation. You did well today, but I wish to get ahead of the curve by speeding up your work. Please, show me your casting.”
	Galahad nodded and stuck his finger into the sand filled cup. Slowly, each particle turned to a liquid, red and tart smelling. At the end the fledgling transmutationist was left with a bitter cup of cranberry juice which he taste tested, “Could be worse,” He noted.
	“You are not focusing on all of the sand. You are focusing on them one by one to change them,” The fey-witch noted, “Go wider, expand your focus, expend a little more mana, focus on every little grain of sand at once.”
	He nodded back quickly. He stared at the glass of sand, examining all of it before shoving his finger into it. The sand glowed and Manus stared excitedly at it, eager to see her student succeed only for the sand to explode into a shower of cranberry juice all over the wizard. The two looked at one another for a moment before Galahad burst out laughing at himself as he looked at the sticky juice covering his robes, “Could you lend me a hand?”
	“Of course,” Manus chuckled as the initial shock subsided. With a spell, she pulled almost all the juice from his clothes and returned it to the cup, “You managed to do it all at once. But you were too overzealous with your mana use. Try again, would you?”
	“Yeah, I got this.”

	
	“All in favor for voting in a new president?” The council room remained silent, each of the members of Fritz’Eleo eyeing one another stiffly from their seats. Not one of them dared to step out of line for fear of being branded some kind of ‘traitor’ and being cast out of the council themselves. All eyes gradually shifted to the front of the longtable where Harold Garnalga Babarry sat, lost in his own thoughts. In his mind he played his defeat at the hands of that first-year over and over again, trying to understand how he was able to not only learn such an advanced technique, but from whom? Harold’s attempts at puzzling it out with no clear answers had left him in a foul mood. Eventually he stood up from his chair, clearing his throat.
 “This meeting is adjourned.” He announced, turning to leave.
	“President Babarry?” One of the council members asked. 
	Harold spun back around, furrowing his brow, “What is it?”
	“What are we to do about the unrest among our peers?”
	The prince thought on this for a moment, his frustration clear in his expression, “Tell them this: I, Prince Harold of Babarry will make things right. I only need more time to make an effective plan before I challenge House Karak-Albrac again to win back our time.”
	There was a shift in the council members, some of their worries had been eased, but others were only more disheartened. “What of the time Karak-Albrac had bargained to House Calmashorne?”
	“Once I defeat the transmutation house’s duelist, the enchantment house will have no option but to give us back our time. If they do not I will personally contest any bid they make with a duel.” The prince growled, his patience wearing thin. “Now, as I said, the meeting is adjourned.”
	At once, everyone stood and filed out of the council room, each going his or her own way. All but one, who sat at the far end of the longtable. Harold was about to leave himself before they stood up and shut the door with the wave of their hand. The prince looked back, his irritation rising again.
	“Who dares?” He hissed through his teeth, watching as the council member strutted around the table towards him with a scowl on her face.
It was the dwarven woman, “Dottathum Azum-Barowitz,” She replied, “You’d do well to remember the names of your own council.”
	“And what do you want, dwarf?” The prince inquired, “It had better be worth you wasting my time.”
	“What I want is for you to take this job seriously. I want a president for Fritz’Eleo who ‘as our best interests at the very forefront of 'is tasks, not some petty princeling grudge-bearer with a first-year student what whooped ‘im but good.” She barked.
	“I will pretend I didn’t hear that last remark from the hill-dwarf that lost her first annual duel to a conjurer,” Harold remarked with contempt. Dottathum bit her tongue, that very conjurer had won the entire competition, “As for the rest of your complaints, what would you have me do? Roll over and give up on dueling, politely ask the transmutationists for our time back?”
“No, but we are actively alienating ourselves from the rest of the Fairgarland ‘ouses. If we keep trying to strong-arm every ‘ouse into capitulating to us, we’ll be short of friends and rich with enemies. Concede the time to Karak-Albrac and move to strengthen our bonds with the other ‘ouses! I’m sure ya can work a deal with a house we are still in good relations with. If there even is one.” 
“I did not catapult Fritz’Eleo into being the number one house by bowing down to the whims of every other house. Reasonableness ended a long time ago when they first spurned me and I will not turn back to it now. I will find a way to defeat Loxley and I will take back our time. If you think you can do a better job at running Fritz’Eleo, then give it a try-- after you have bested me in a duel yourself,” He snarled, drawing out his staff. The dwarf stood stiff, red in the face. Her eyes glared up at Harold, but she dared not make a move against him.
	“No? My, such restraint, for a dwarf,” Hissed Harold as he withdrew his staff. “Do not think less of yourself, you know better than to try and fight a master of dueling over something so foolish. Now go about your day before I decide to–”
All at once, the prince was interrupted by the quaking of the room. He looked into Dottathum’s eyes and saw terror in them. This was not her doing. The floor beneath the two shook, the chandelier rattled above them and the chairs vibrated, dancing from their positions under the longtable. Dottathum clambered under the table, hiding away from the crystalline chandelier that swayed back and forth from the rafters, threatening to shatter across the floor. Harold pitied the dwarf for a moment before cautiously moving toward the window. Several students outside were experiencing the quake as well, each of them scrambling to steady themselves. Harold heard Dottathum scream, the skies darkening outside until finally it all culminated in a thunderous crash and an explosion of magical, blinding light. The room settled, and the light dimmed, and Harold found himself looking out of the window to see a very tall, very old tower standing now beside House Fritz’Eleo.


	. . . . .

A cluster of students crowded around the north side of campus. Blud and Reccoa stopped to see what was going on. The two had just gotten lunch and were on their way to the arena, but a sudden quaking had halted their hopes of reaching it. Now that things had calmed down they had more than enough time to stop and discover what had happened, “Ugh, I can’t see,” Blud grumbled as he was way too close to the ground.
	“Uppies,” Reccoa declared as she put her hands under the goblin’s armpits and lifted him into the air. The beetle woman was taller than most, and with his newfound height Blud was taller than all. A tower had appeared on the north end of campus near the Fritz’eleo house. It was taller and thicker than the house’s dorms, but this one was also decorated with the banner of Fritz’Eleo, “See something?”
	“A tower. Ya can see it too, can’t ya?” Blud asked, “But who made this?”
	“Ah, I see that Headmaster Daldomel has appeared right on time,” As if to answer the goblin’s question, Dean Zuccarius had appeared along with a few of the headmasters. The crowd of students turned to look at the dean.
	“Daldomel!?” A student gasped, “Truly!?”
	“Yes, we were informed last week but did not see it wise to scare the populace with that promise,” The dean explained, “Give the good headmaster some space, students,” He instructed before approaching the tower. With his long, wooden staff he knocked on the door, “Daldomel! Are you home?”
	“Yes, yes, I am here,” The headmaster appeared, slowly opening his door. His head was shining and bald, his beard was long, white and well kempt, and his robes were crimson red with yellow shoulders and long yellow vest embroidered with symbols of evocation magicks. His hat– which he was slapping dust out of before placing it on his head– was matching red with a yellow band. It sat crooked on his head, though the old wizard paid it no mind. 
	“Professor ‘Ketchup and Mustard’ is back…” A student near Blud chuckled at the little nickname.
	“What is the, as the kids say, ‘down low’ at Fairgarland these days?” Daldomel asked the dean in a raspy, gravelly voice. The human wizard was definitely on in years, but his natural affinity for magic kept him limber and healthy.
	“I have not heard anyone say that in some time,” Zuccarius chuckled, “Come, friend. There is much to show, including your new office.”
	“Oooh. I hope you got me a couch this time. Maybe a color TV, even,” He jested as the two headed off with two headmasters following.
	“I guess his tower is just there, now,” A student grumbled, "Like Fritz’Eleo needed another building…"
	Another scoffed, “At least he didn’t teleport it somewhere illegal or kill someone with it.”
	“Downsies?” Reccoa asked the goblin.
	“Yeah. We gotta get over to the arena, c’mon,” The goblin waved for her to follow before stalking off.

	. . . . .

	“So the whole thing started over some girl?” Rald asked in disbelief, “A human girl!?”
	“That is the supposed reason for the Trojan war, yes,” Miss Manus smiled, “You will find that this is a common theme in many mythos. Some would call it romantic.”
	“Heaven above, at least make her an elven maiden or something! That’s slightly less boring!” 
“But remember, this was before the cracking,” The fey-witch pointed out.
“That didn’t stop them from adding in gorgons to Perseus’ story,” The goblin grumbled. Sitting on the bleachers on the side of the arena on the ground floor were Miss Manus and Rald, both of them were reading for the Myths and Legends club, quietly discussing the story as they went so the fey-witch had an idea for what to go over next week. 
	Galahad trudged across the field, currently set up as a tennis court. There was a green glowing crystal inlaid into the wall near the entrance, “Is this how we do it?” The duelist wondered as he gripped it. It hummed and warmed up at his touch, “Dueling arena,” He ordered. 
	Runes across the walls glowed a deep orange. The clay tennis court dissolved into sand, roughly a half inch deep, as was regulation. A set of lines signifying a single regulation sized arena appeared, “Remove lines?” He quizzically ordered again.
	The markings vanished as the wizard commanded. Galahad nodded with satisfaction, drew his staff, and started to draw lines in the sand with conjured black paint, “Galahad! I hate this Hera bitch!” The goblin hollered.
	“Oh yeah? What do you want me to do about it?” He shouted back.
	“Uggh, I don’t know! Tell me I’m right!”
	Galahad laughed. As he opened his mouth to speak again, the boom of thunder outside interrupted him. Next, the earth shook violently. Galahad stumbled and caught himself with his staff, Rald shouted in terror, and Manus covered herself and the goblin with her enchanted cloak to protect them from potential debris. Galahad struggled to prepare an abjuration spell with the shaking of the earth. 
As suddenly as it began, the thundering and shaking stopped. As it did, Rald, Miss Manus and Galahad all looked around. Slowly, Manus pulled back her enchanted cloak from atop the goblin where they sat on the bleachers, “Galahad, what was that?” The witch asked.
	Galahad shrugged and went back to painting thick black lines in the transmuted floor. The duelist cordoned off four small fields for practice duels, “Dunno. The arena didn’t come down, so I think we’re good.”
	“D-do you think it was an earthquake? What if one of the house towers came down!?” Rald whimpered, holding her hard backed copy of The Iliad over her head like a shield.
	Miss Manus shook her head, “It felt different and the thunder stopped as soon as the quake did. Might it have been magical phenomena?” 
	The goblin nodded slowly, “Y-you’re probably right… Where were we, Manus?” She returned to her book.
	“Put it away until your heart has calmed, Rald. Besides, the club meeting time is very soon,” Miss Manus spoke gently so as to calm her.
	“Rald. Would you mind helping me?” Galahad grunted as he removed his sling after finishing his drawing.
	“Lox!” Rald hollered as he winced in pain. 
	“I’m fine– I’m fine,” He grunted as he straightened his arm out, “I need you to heal me. My bones are set, just mend it a little more to ease the pain.”
	Rald frowned but nodded at her friend. She drew her wand and muttered the magical words to herself as she rubbed a sprig of a magical plant on the once broken arm. The plant glowed, slowly vaporizing and merging with Galahad’s arm as its healing properties were transferred to the duelist, “There,” Rald subconsciously ran her hand down his forearm, “Feeling better?”
	“A lot better, thank you,” He pat her head, ruffling it a little bit and displacing her hat. Rald blushed and quickly sat back down with Manus.
	“The champion of Karak-Albrac moves freely once more!” Fredrik cried as he stepped across the sandy floor. His mask of the day looked like a golden, growling, one-eyed wolf.
	“Fredrik! Glad you could make it,” Galahad grinned at his friend. Right behind him was a grumpy looking dwarven woman, “You brought a friend?”
	“Mister Loxley, this is Dottathum. You should recognize her from the first of the duels,” Fredrik introduced.
	The duelist nodded, “I think I remember now. You went against that gnome. You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve been really frazzled since my duel.”
	“Call me Dotti. You don’ know ‘ow many times I’ve rewatched that fight. Only thing that’s given me any joy recently,” The dwarf grumbled, “Could ya beat ‘im up again? Maybe beat some damn reason or sense into ‘im this time?”
	Galahad chuckled as more people filed in. He was surprised he had a group of around thirty that filed into the stands, “I’ll let you know if I get the chance,” Although Galahad had been told that the news of his duelists club had spread like wildfire, he had not expected this large of a turn out. He expected maybe a dozen at best from the few notices he and Manus had posted on bulletin boards around campus.
	Fredrick, Manus, Rald, and Blud all sat next to one another in the front row, each one looking to Galahad to begin. He rubbed his arm and swallowed nervously, “Hey,” He greeted. A few in the crowd replied with similar greetings, “I’m Galahad, duelist for House Karak-Albrac. I, uh, guess that I'm the club leader. I’m not sure what you all expect from me for this, but I was hoping for this to be a place for you all to practice and learn from one another. Miss Manus, could you pass around the sign up sheet? We might need more than one.”
“Understood,” Manus called back as she procured the pages in question from her bag. 
“I’m, well, not really a teacher,” The duelist continued with a sheepish admission, “But I feel as if Fairgarland has wholly undersuited you to combat, so I feel like I will need to do at least a little teaching. Where to begin…?”
“If I may, Mister Loxley?” Miss Manus stood. Each of her hands were visible as they poked out from beneath her cloak. The top hands were human, the middle two were crystalline, and the bottom two were large, scaled, dragon hands. Each set pressed their fingertips with their opposite counterparts, “Mayhaps you should show a technique and have them practice it in turn?”
The duelist nodded, “I suppose that’s for the best. How about we start with throwing spells back and forth, focusing on dodging or blocking your opponent's attack? Let’s stay to low classified spells for your attack. Use enchantments, illusions, abjuration, and even transmutation or conjuration to defend yourself. Let’s get four groups of two out here… Fredrik, you and Dotti. Blud, get out here with that friend of yours next to you. Uh, you in the back, the minotaur, bring that guy next to you up here. Aaaand… You two in the front. Chop chop, I wanna see some spells fly!”
	Miss Manus was surprised as she saw Galahad begin to instruct others, “Blud, spread your legs more, have a wider stance so you can dodge easier. Dotti, try not to kill Fredrik, that’s not the plan right now, alright? You, a little stronger, okay? He needs at least a little bit of a challenge, alright?”
	“Not a teacher my rear,” Rald scoffed.
	Miss Manus nodded, “Teaching? I am not sure. Perhaps drilling is more apt. Seems to be something instinctual for him. I think he is telling the truth about having been taught from a young age. His father who taught him as an apprentice must be someone who is very knowledgeable.”
	“SAN! Cut that out!” Blud shouted as he dived down into the sand. The woman’s powerful blast of fire struck the far wall whose protective runes absorbed it.
	The woman shook her head, her hood obscuring much of her face, “I am not sorries, Blaad. You must learn. Is not a reason we is here?,” Her voice seeped with anger as her casting implement - numerous red crystal shards hovered around her chitinous hand.
	“Hey, lay off the guy,” Galahad instructed as he stomped over, “While we are learning, this is practice. Keep the power level down.”
	“You are Lox?” The woman asked as she slowly removed her hood. Galahad didn’t flinch as he stared at her inhuman face, each eye training on him, “I was expecting… taller, stronger, maybe… handsomer?”
	“San–” Blud grunted, brushing the sand off himself, “Lox, this is San– or ah, Reccoa. She’s the one who was itchin’ to meet ya in the arena.”
	“Is that so? Blud, take five. Tell me, Reccoa. You’re a sectare, yes?”
	“Yessums, you know of us?” She replied as she chittered excitedly. Galahad was taking a position across from her, “I am sorcerer, come from Japan.”
	The duelist drew his staff, firmly planting the butt of it in the sand. He pulled his scarf up on his face and adjusted his cap, “Know of you? Not really, only read a few things on your culture, but Blud never mentioned you were one. Enough talk, come on!”
	Reccoa nodded, slowlying hyping herself up, throwing her emotions wildly into a rage. Flames came from her red crystals and now burning hands. Her hands rose above her head, the flames turning into a disc of burning energy. With all her might, she lobbed it at the duelist. Galahad sneered. With the wave of his hand, a simple barrier appeared, the disk collided and drilled against the barrier, threatening to break through until Loxley snapped his fingers, dissipating it into nothing more than ash. The beetle woman froze, blinking all four of her eyes at her opponent. 
	“Powerful,” Galahad admitted, “But you have no focus. Like an old, pre-cracking blunderbus. Mana being flung everywhere with every spell. Your reserves probably run deep if you’re casting like this. Are you from a long line of sorcerers?”
	With a glance to her shoulder and whispering to some non-existent thing for a few moments. Galahad swore he saw the glimmer of something perched on the shoulder of the sectare woman, but said nothing, “No. Am not. First in line– in many long time.”
	The butt of Galahad’s staff slammed on the floor, “Ready?”
	“Yessums. Pre-pear-red,” Again, with only a moment’s meditation, tears began to roll down her cheeks as thick, swirling plate armor made of flames and conjured stones fashioned like chiton on a bug. The wizard looked around the arena, all other practices had stopped as all eyes were glued to the demonstration. Galahad pulled his spell book from his bottomless bag and poured over the pages. Toward the end he stopped and pointed to a spell. The words came off the page in a ghoulish, ghostly form and went into his staff, making the tip glow red. Red lightning crackled on his staff, which he quickly pointed at his sparring partner, carefully aiming along its charred, black shaft. The swirling, crackling lighting in the crystal ball glowed brightly as Galahad thrust it forward. The sadness turned into sobbing from Reccoa as she tried to maintain her armor against the powerful, long bolt of crimson lightning. She stumbled backwards slightly as she struggled to maintain her magical armor. She felt her heart skip a beat as her armor cracked, all of her sadness had been washed away by a strangling, deafening fear. Reccoa’s sorcerer magic teleported her in a flash of fire and smoke backwards to the other side of the room and right out of her crumbling armor. She slid to the floor, clutching her chest. Galahad’s attack hung in the air, it had only been cast to go through her armor and stop before actually striking her. The sectare woman panted as the other club-goers gaped at the display.
“Let’s swap out,” Galahad decided, bringing everyone back to focus on the club, “Another eight, come out here,” He quickly broke them up into duos on assumed power levels, “Take care to use lower spells, alright?” They quickly agreed as Galahad took a seat on the bench with his friends. He sighed and took a sip from a flask.
	“Since when are you an expert on evocation?” Fredrik chided his friend.
	“I’m not. I picked that one up last week for demonstrations. Uses way more mana than I wish it would,” He grumbled.
	Reccoa panted as she approached, still winded from the massive expenditure of mana. She dropped to her knees, putting her hands on them, and placing her face close to the floor, “I am sorries. I was assuming that princling of Babarry was not real challenge. Coddled princeling do not make great challenge. Lox’s strength is apparent. Am forgiven?”
	“You are as long as you understand that overpowering your sparring partner doesn’t lead to either of you learning anything, alright?” Galahad scolded gently. 
	“Am understand. I am sorries, Blaad.”
	“Yeah, yeah. Just get off the floor. It's embarassin,’” The goblin sighed as the sectare woman stood and took a seat at his side.
	Dotti folded her arms, “So yer from Japan? What’re ya doin’ out ‘ere?”
	Fredrik moved his head toward her, his face inscrutable behind the mask, “Are you unaware of how Japan views mages? Since the Cracking, the Empire of Japan has had a very rocky relationship with magic. The Emperor quickly moved to illegalise all magic outside of sanctioned casters. They are very strict on this. The Russian Tsars did the same. The French Monarchy’s wizard king has put a similar decree into effect, though they are quite eager to bring more casters into their fold. Italy has completely outlawed wizards, excluding holy warriors such as paladins and clerics,” Fredrik paused his tangent, “Pardon me. Back on topic. Sorcerers are beings of magic. It is impossible to simply not practice it. I would understand why your parents would want to move you to America where you will not be persecuted for your magic.”
	Reccoa nodded quickly, “Yessums. You have the correct of it.”
	“Your parents came with you, right?” Rald whimpered.
	The sectare woman shook her head, “No’s. I… smaaggled out of home land. Only guide is Hiirogami, ancestor spirit,” She explained, revealing a beetle larger than her fist that sat on her shoulder. Dotti, Rald, and Blud made ‘oooh,’ noises and Miss Manus was sure she saw it bow, “Not speak in english, sorrowfully.”
	Galahad nodded and stood, “At least you speak it well enough to learn. Speaking of which, I had better go give this group my two cents.”
	
	. . . . . 

"So tell me, old friend, what have you been up to in the last few decades?" Zucarius asked. The older dean sat behind his desk, reclining back in his chair as Xavos Daldomel sat opposite of him, leaning against his staff with one hand while sipping tea from the other.
"Avoiding your school, for one," Xavos replied with a grin, "Never could stand the half-baked house politicking. Teaches the students bad habits."
"I feel it prepares them for the world they'll be a part of," Zucarius replied calmly, the old dean idly stroking his beard.
 Xavos snorted, "Ha, they're better off living off the land and helpin' one another than bickering over arbitrary nonsense like who gets to browse the library at night or who gets to use the bathroom in which building. Utter nonsense."
Zucarius leaned forward on his desk, locking his fingers, "You may be right. But I feel this helps them work together even when they butt heads. Better to fight with words than with wands, as old Ludolf would say."
Xavos shrugged and took another sip of his tea, "And yet we allow such dangers as dueling. Besides, our old professor couldn't win a fight with words or wands. He would always get tongue-tied the moment he was flustered or challenged and usually by me. Ahh, but you're probably right, which is why you're the dean and I am simply a humble headmaster," He japed, the two wizards smiling at one another.
"To be fair, the dueling also helps prepare them for the world, whether it is ours or yours," Said the dean.
Xavos nodded, "I'll concede that point, both worlds are dangerous."
"Speaking of, would you tell me what you were doing in Yellowstone?" The dean asked, raising his bushy white brow.
Xavos took a deep breath and sighed, looking his friend in the eye, "I'm sure you already know the answer to that."
"Humor me, would you?" The smile on Zucarius’ mouth had disappeared and was replaced by an intense stare. Xavos grumbled to himself for a moment, looking down at his hands before nodding.
"Alright, fine. I was looking for highly condensed mana for my experiments," He explained, waving his hand as if it was nothing to be concerned over. 
The ever watchful gaze of Zucarius’ eyes stared him down, "Still trying to 'fill in the cracks,' I take it?" He inquired, resting his knuckles over his mouth.
"My theory is correct, I know it can be done, I've seen it with my own two eyes but the IMA is full of fools and incompetents," Xavos erupted, throwing his hands up and consequently his tea. He groaned and cast a spell with the snap of his fingers, cleaning the mess and placing the teacup gently on the desk.
Zucarius shook his head, "I have spoken with the International Mages Assembly. They say it is pointless to even try, 'a fool's errand' I'm told. The amount of mana required–"
"Is astronomical, yes, yes I've heard it all. Nothing worth doing is without sacrifice,” Xavos cut in, clearly irritated by the repetitiveness of the response, “They also say that the people living in the Great Crack have chosen that life. How can you take anything they say seriously when they won't even consider the good it would do for those people to have real, living ground beneath them? Mana to breathe life into their lives?"
"Or perhaps an illustrious new title to your name?" Zucarius mused from behind his clasped fingers.
Xavos frowned at the accusation, his mustache drooping low. He quickly decided it best to change topics, "Alright then, what have you gotten up to? Anything groundbreaking happen in Fairgarland?"
"As a matter of fact, there was. Why, not so long ago we held our annual dueling tournament,” explained the dean.
"Yeah, so?"
Zucarius smiled a wily smile, "You'll never guess what happened."
"Prince Babarry won again, I'm sure," Xavos said with a bored tone. Zucarius shook his head and chuckled, "Not the prince?" Now Xavos was interested, "Then who?"
"A young lad by the name of Loxley, Galahad Loxeley. Only joined Fairgarland six weeks ago as a first-year," Explained Zucarius, leaning back in his chair and watching as the wheels turned in his friend’s head.
"A first-year participated in the duels? A first-year beat Harold?" Xavos couldn't believe his ears. He had to know more, "What kind of person is he, what school of magic does he practice? Is he still in the Seeker House?"
The wizened dean shook his head, "He is no longer in Seeker, he was inducted into Karak-Albrac the day he beat Harold– and before you ask, no, he did not win the tournament."
Xavos could only blink as he processed the information, "Transmutation? He's studying transmutation? Whatever for?"
"That is not for me to say," Zucarius answered, "As for what kind of person he is, well… from what I have seen and heard, he is quite kind, if not a little stubborn and reckless. He studies hard and helps where he can. Why, last week he even started a dueling club to 'help teach the other students how to duel,' as he said."
"A dueling club? Is he holding it in the arena?" Asked Xavos, now leaning forward in his chair.
"As we speak. One of my selves can see it now." 
The dean winked at Xavos, who stood up immediately, "Then I should go see for myself!"
"Xavos, try to keep your travels to the outdoors, please. Startling the students is  bad for their health," Zucarius urged him.
"Ha. The best I can do is keep it to my tower and my classroom," Xavos grinned down at his friend.
"If that is the best I can hope for…" Sighed Zucarius, motioning for the headmaster to go ahead. After a short pause, Xavos held up his staff and with a low thunder and a gust of wind he disappeared, leaving the dean watching as the papers on his desk swirled in the air where his friend once stood. With a sigh he flicked his wrist and collected each page back to where it belonged.

Xavos stood before the arena doors, adjusting his red robes and hat to make himself at least a little presentable. When he was satisfied he opened the door and waltzed inside, his ears perking up upon hearing the clatter of spells being flung and deflected.
As he entered the arena proper, he witnessed the golden masked Fredrik casting a spell of golden darts, only for a dark-haired student to bat them away at once, each dart sticking into the sand below.
"Just like that, it can be deflected. It's not just about the amount of mana you put into your ward, but your physical strength, the angle that you block and the speed that you hit it. This is especially true for physical spells like what my friend Fredrik here just used," The first-year explained to the crowd in the bleachers. Xavos stood silently and listened, eyeing the young man from the doorway. 
"For pure mana spells, the strength of your arm becomes less important, but it still counts for something. And another thing - Dotti, hit me with a fireball, please."
"Ya sure, Galahad?" The dwarf asked, wary of what might happen.
"Trust me," Galahad's confidence convinced the dwarf. She stepped into the arena and prepared a fireball as instructed. Galahad gave her a nod before holding up his staff, Dotti slinging it towards him. The young wizard forced his hands forward, the fireball striking his ward at the same time. The force caused a blowback and the fireball dissipated as if it had been snuffed out like a candle in the wind.
"Depending on the spell, and particularly fire spells, you can completely nullify them with a stronger burst of mana. It's very similar to how real fire works: should a bigger flame rage next to a smaller flame, it will steal its oxygen - or in this case, mana. This will only work if you have enough mana to burn, so it can be risky if you're not careful. Anyway, enough of me talking, let's get back to practicing. I'll come around again to check your form. Don't be afraid to ask questions!"
"I've one," Xavos spoke up with a smile, walking towards the young man. 
Galahad turned and looked at the old wizard, smiling, "Well let's hear it."
"Where did you learn all that?" Xavos asked, stopping before the sands. 
Galahad raised his brow, "I… learned it from my father." He replied, unsure of the question, "I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself, I'm–"
"I know who you are, Mr. Loxley. Your name has made the rounds all over campus, I'm told," The wizard in crimson and yellow smiled, "I am called Professor Xavos Miligary Daldomel the Inquirer, many simply call me Daldomel, or Xavos the Red if you like. I am also the headmaster of evocation."
Galahad looked back and saw that many of the students practicing had stepped aside, watching the conversation unfold, "Professor Daldomel–" 
"And you haven't answered my question, Mister Loxley," Xavos interrupted, "I asked 'where' you learned that."
At once, Xavos let loose a firebolt aimed for the man, Galahad instinctively warding if off. The firebolt hit the sand and burst into embers that sprayed the rest of the court. The young wizard winced, but he stood his ground, glaring over his staff at the headmaster, "I'm sorry to say I don't answer questions at the point of a staff."
"Ha! A good answer," Xavos chuckled, "Well, you're doing a fine job, so I'll not take up any of your time," In an instant the headmaster raised his staff, shaking the ground for but a moment before he disappeared, finding himself sitting before Zucarius in his office again.
"Well?" The dean asked expectantly.
Xavos took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his bald scalp, "Well, he is knowledgeable in abjuration that much is plain. He deflected a firebolt I cast copying Harold's mana signature with little to no effort. How many times did those two fight?"
"Just the once." Answered Zucarius.
"WHAT?!" The red wizard leapt from his chair, "He memorized the prince's mana resonation after just one duel?!"
	“After a single round, by my estimate,” The dean added.
	Xavos tapped his fingers on the table, “He is no ordinary student. He is no ordinary wizard either. Surely you must know more, you approved his entry into the tournament, did you not?”
	“I did approve his entry,” Zucarius waved his hand, opening his window before grabbing a long, wooden pipe with swirling carvings on it. He loaded it with mana infused pipe-weed, “How could I not after the letters of recommendation he showed me.”
	“Who? Who were they from?” With the snap of his fingers, Xavos ignited the dean’s pipes, “Tell me, I must know.”
	The master of illusion puffed on his pipe, blowing a ring above his head. A mischievous smile slowly spread across his lips, “Where is the fun of that? But I will tell you, a few were very prominent figures in the magical community.”
	“Magical community. More than just wizards then,” Xavos quickly assumed, “Fine, you mischievous–” He bit his tongue and held back his insults, “I will continue my search.”

          “Who can tell me three things that came of the Great Cracking?” Miss Manus asked, “And citing the portal does not count,” She saw one of her students raise a hand, “Neither do demi-humans and the races of man coming through said portal,” She announced, and the teenager’s hand shot back down. Her eyes wandered from student to student, ”How was the world changed?”
Miss Manus slowly paced back and forth at the front of the room with her teacher’s version of their Magic History textbook floating in front of her. A cup of tea and a half eaten blueberry muffin were held in one hand each. The white board behind her magically wrote a one, two, and three with telekinetically controlled markers.
“Uh,” One student raised their hand, “Magic?”
Miss Manus nodded as magic was written next to the one, “Yes. The Great Crack in the earth was formed due to the absence of mana. It was wrenched deep from the earth and spread all around our planet. Some say this took a toll on the earth’s lifespan, but this is unconfirmed.”
	Another student raised their arm, “The changing of alchemical formula? Like combustion not working?”
	“Yes. It is theorized that mana is snuffing out combustion. Though this does not seem to hold up due to fires, candles, and matches all still working as intended. This will be something to consider learning transmutation if you want to make your own discoveries,” The witch explained as she wrote ‘Combustion’ next to the two, “Another?” The room was quiet until a boy in a thick coat in the back raised his hand, “Yes?”
	“The Sundered Lands?”
Miss Manus nodded and wrote it on the board again, “Correct. The massive gash put in the earth from where the portal was created is a Sundered Land, usually called the Great Crack. This Sundered Land is quite mundane and people even live on the walls of the one to three mile deep valley walls. Entire cities are constructed here. Does anyone know of any other Sundered Lands?”
“Didn’t Yellowstone park turn into one?”	Another student asked.
“Ah, Yellowstone. Mana was blown out of the geysers, most of it hanging thick in the air. Orbs of water and mounds of stone float eerily in the air. You should see a picture of it on page three-hundred sixty-four. Unlike the Great Crack, Yellowstone is dangerous. Lightning, fire, poison and even spontaneous explosions can be easily brought out of the area’s mana if you step wrong or touch something you should not. A tree could shoot lightning at you, a pool of water could ignite, and the very air could… sunder you. We call this being Sundered should you perish to this. That’s nothing to say for the Yellowstone Caldera, which is the most dangerous and unstable part of Yellowstone. These are dangerous places and most are restricted zones, and some can even take you to places unimaginable on Earth.”
“L-like the fey lands?” One half-elven boy whimpered.
“Some have reported that they can, though some also say that many have disappeared, never to be seen again.” The fey-witch answered. “The Military, International Mages Assembly and local police forces work together to keep looters, criminals, and regular citizens from entering.”
“Why would people want to enter such dangerous places?” A gnomish boy looked a little shaken from what Miss Manus was talking about. 
The fey witch’s icey eyes turned, “Some believe there are arcane artifacts to be found. There is no evidence of this. However, mana does take a raw, physical form here due to how condensed it is in the air. Raw mana in a physical form is something highly sought after. Huge untapped quantities of aether and mana all sit in the Sundered Lands.”
“ARE there riches there!?” A dwarven woman demanded to know as she rose to her feet as if she was going to dash off to the nearest one.
“Some will tell you there are, but consider the following,” Miss Manus calmly replied, “The health hazard due to the possibility of being Sundered, having to get past security, and attempting to safely handle the raw mana you find make it quite difficult to get rich. You also have to worry about other Mana Seekers if you do find any. Some say there are gangs who will gut anyone and take everything they have. I would say it is not worth it.”
The dwarf sighed, “Aye. I get it.”
“If you wish to see a Sundered Land, there is one in the crater of Mount Saint Helens that is quite mundane. Rocks and snow float in the air along with mounds of ash. Mana-filled smoke continues to billow from it as well, and there is a low chance of Sundering if you go with a knowledgeable guide.”
The students began to chatter amongst themselves, whisperings of trying to find concentrated mana in one or fighting those mana bandits for whatever haul they have. Miss Manus looked at a clock on the wall, there was only five minutes left. With the flicking on her hand, a small packet of homework was distributed to each student, “Before you is a short assignment. You have until Tuesday to complete it. Please review this week's portion for the answers. Have a wonderful weekend, class,” She gave them a small smile as they put away their things and hurried from the room. 
Miss Manus sighed as she slowly finished her tea. Her mouth was dry from all the talking she had done. She placed the textbook in her bag and finished her muffin next. With a stretch, she left the room to find Galahad waiting for her, just like he did most Thursdays, “I caught the end of that lecture,” He commented as the two started down the hall, “When the heck was Saint Helens reclassified as safe? I still remember the footage of that scientist getting turned to ash,” A shiver went down the duelist’s spine.
“Quite recently. Two years or so,” Miss Manus replied, “I am still somewhat skeptical, but I have been assured it is safe.”
“By who?”
“Headmaster Jasper Crixx went with some of the other faculty as soon as it was clear for them to go. Many academics did,” She explained as they headed down the stairs and out the building.
Galahad nodded, “I see,” The two stepped out into the cloudy sunshine of the chilly day, “Oh, speaking of Crixx; how was your meeting with her today?” He pulled his cloak around him as a brisk wind blew across campus. 
The fey witch rubbed her temples with one set of big, fluffy hands, “I am on track for graduating and moving on to my mastery exam.”
“Hey, that’s good to hear,” Galahad gave her a big smile, “Or is there something else?”
“Well…” A few arms poked out of the witch’s fluffy cloak, “I need to join one or two school clubs for extracurricular credits.”
“That’s necessary to graduate?” The duelist scoffed as they made their way to the lunch hall, “I better get that out of the way then.”
“Mhm,” Manus was nearly silent as she looked to see what was available for lunch today. Two food carts were outside, one for pho and the other was a fried chicken and burger cart. With a sigh, she went to the halfling restaurant that was situated inside and ordered a shepherd's pie. Galahad ordered the same and followed her to a small table, the two sitting in silence for a few moments before Manus cleared her throat, “Galahad, what kind of clubs would you join?”
With a frown, the first year looked out the window, “I really don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know a lot about them. What about you?”
“I am unsure what is available. I doubt I will find one related to my interests,” The fey-witch rapped her fingers on the table, “Perhaps I should try to convince Headmaster Crixx to allow some kind of alternative credit I could do.”
“No, no, no. We both need to find a club, I can help you look,” Galahad offered with a confident hand on his chest before adjusting his other arm’s sling, “If we can find a club schedule, I’m sure we can find one agreeable to both of us if we go look. We’ll skip tutoring for the day. I’ll help you since you’ve been helping me so much. It’s the least I could do.”
“I find your urge to help even in your condition admirable, if not a little entertaining,” Miss Manus smirked, “Your assistance in this matter would be greatly appreciated. As you know, I am not much of a social butterfly.”
	Galahad shrugged, “You seem to do more than fine when I see you delegating with your fellow council members and when teaching.” 
	“That is different than conversing socially with strangers,” She noted, “I can speak professionally but flounder outside of it.”
	“I’ll take your word for it. Food’s done, it seems. Lemme go get it for you.”
	Miss Manus glanced over her shoulder as she watched the duelist collect two plates of food, putting one in his injured hand and grabbing the other with his good one. It seemed nothing could slow him down, completely surprising Manus.

	Miss Manus read through her latest book of ancient mythology, this one covered the Egyptian mythos. Tombs, curses, mummies, and gods were all described within. Her final class had ended, and now she rested for a short while in the main room of the Karak-Albrac tower. Most students in her house were tending to their evening studies or lab work. 
As Miss Manus’s mind began to think about dinner, the door of the tower opened, “I found it,” Galahad panted as he approached the fey-witch.
“Some form of club ledger?” Manus clarified quickly as she stashed her book under her cloak.
The duelist nodded as he caught his breath, “I, uh, learned it was online and I got Blud to help me print it,” He presented the spreadsheet he carried, five pages all stapled together listing each club and their scheduled meeting times. 
With a highlighter, Miss Manus marked which ones were meeting that Thursday night as they may have time to see them, “Wonderful. Shall we?” As she rose to her feet, she looked the first year up and down, “Were you running across campus?”
	“Uh, a little. I felt like I was taking forever,” He admitted sheepishly.
	Miss Manus shook her head, “You are going to hurt yourself, Mister Loxley. But it is not my place to scold you. Come. I have devised an efficient route for us to see the few we can tonight. We shall start at the arena,” She concluded. Galahad nodded and followed her from their house out to the ring of other towers. It was around five-o-clock and numerous students were out in the evening sunset’s dimming light. They headed to the mess hall, the gym, or elsewhere on campus.
	The duo got a few looks as they went. The fey-witch easily ignored it, but the faces were starting to get to Galahad. He could only wonder if people still thought of him and Manus as a couple due to that newspaper article from weeks ago or if they thought bad of him due to his victory against Harold. He wondered what the Babarian prince was up to now, he hadn’t seen him at all since the duels. Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t seen or heard mention of him from Miss Manus either. Galahad looked to his fey-president, “Have you seen or heard from Harold at all?”
	“I have not. The presidential elections are coming up soon, so as such I assume he is campaigning to maintain his seat on the council. Most students care not for politics, so we are still unsure whether he will be contested or not.”
	“Let’s hope he stays quiet for a while,” Galahad grumbled to himself, “I didn’t expect to be back here so soon,” He nodded as he looked up at the tall walls of the arena before holding the door open for Manus. The two stepped down the near empty halls as the sounds of shoes screeching on the court reverberated down the hallway. 
The two looked into the arena, seeing that the dueling arena had been magically changed to four tennis courts. There were about twelve men and women playing tennis in doubles and singles, a few sitting out and waiting their turn, “Uh,” Galahad stopped peeking into the court, “Are you into sports?”
Miss Manus pulled back from the door and adjusted her hat, “I never was much of a fan. I used to watch soccer when I first joined Karak-Albrac, but you would be surprised to learn that these hands and feet do not have the coordination for it.”
“Makes two of us,” The duelist sighed, “I assume your physicality is incredibly tuned for casting. If you’re like me, the casting and light cardio developed most of your musculature at a young age. It's a very different set of hand-eye coordination skills. It would almost feel unnatural for the two of us to attempt to play soccer or tennis, even despite me knowing swordplay.”
“I– yes. You are correct,” Manus was shocked how much Galahad knew about the topic, “An unfortunate side effect of being trained and tuned for magic since birth. You and I should focus on other endeavors club-wise.”
“Agreed. You’d probably enjoy something more… cognitive anyways. Where to next?” 
Miss Manus scratched a few clubs off her list, “Tennis, soccer, basketball, and every weight lifting related club is out. Next, let us head to the cafeteria.”
“For dinner?”
“To see more clubs, Galahad,” The fey-witch gave him a bemused look, “Or are you that starved?”
“Well, I could eat,” He chuckled. The two headed west across campus, passing north of the ring of house towers, the massive, magic infused oak, and the professor’s offices at the very top of campus. Students were pouring into the cafeteria, along with Manus and Galahad. The two of them walked past the restaurants and tables into a back hallway and up a set of stairs, “I had no idea this was here,” The duelist noted as they arrived in a hallway with a few doors on either side.
“You would have no reason to come here. I doubt you will take a class here in your time at Fairgarland. Mostly home economics classes are here,” The fey-witch explained, “Though you have surprised me before… I suppose we should observe this class first first,” She mused aloud as she pushed a door open. The smells of baked breads, gooey cheeses with spicy peppers, and sweet creams and frosted cakes filled the air. Various students toiled away as they worked on their baking. Muffins of all kinds, cheesy rolls, cupcakes that were quickly frosted and packaged up, and simple loafs of bread were all being worked on by around twenty students. 
Small groups of students worked in their own kitchenettes, mixing, baking, cutting, and eating their creations.
“Suzie! Your president and her attack dog are here!” A student a ways further into the rectangular room called. 
“Attack dog?” Galahad scoffed, “Whatever,” Manus motioned for him to be at ease, while her other hands clasped together in waiting.
Soon the gnome appeared before the duo. She had traded in her usual robes for a little light blue apron that said ‘Double, double, toil and trouble,’ on it, “What are you two doing here?” She wiped her hands on said apron, getting a white powder all over the front of it, “Come to taste test my latest creation? I’m trying to perfect a spicy and cheesy bagel!”
Galahad’s stomach growled, “What kind of cream cheese would you put on that?”
“One with chives and onions, I’d say,” The gnome guessed.
	“Regular cream cheese may do, but that does sound great,” Galahad sighed dreamily, his eyes almost sparkling as he looked at the food, “So you just bake sweets and eat it?”
	“Well, we sell most of it to fund the other things we bake. The baking is the fun part to us, not the eating,” She explained.
	The disappointment Galahad felt in his heart and soul was obvious on his face, “I’d eat you guys out of house and home.”
	“Suddenly you’re a foodie?” The gnome scoffed.
	“Really just for baked goods. A bit of a weakness, admittedly,” The duelist sheepishly explained as he hid his blushing cheeks behind his scarf.
	“Maybe Harold can beat you next time with confections,” Suzie giggled at her own joke.
	“Did you not observe how many rolls he consumed at our council dinner?” Miss Manus teased, “I am somewhat interested in baking. I will keep it in mind, though the introduction your classmate gave me was definitely off putting.”
“Don’t mind Davis. That guy is just a butt-head. You know how devils can be,” The gnome turned and stuck her tongue out at a denim blue devil who returned the gesture before laughing, “Let me get you some cinnamon rolls slathered in maple syrup, Galahad. We’ve got some that never sold– but it's still good!” The gnome dashed away and dashed back with a plastic case with said sweets in it.
“Thank you, Suzie. I can pay for it if you want me to,” Galahad gladly took it.
“Don’t worry about it,” She quickly shook her head, “If you’re interested in joining, lemme know. I can get you two added to my pod.”
“I shall keep it in mind, thank you. Good day, Suzie,” Miss Manus gave a small bow before taking her leave, “Those smell… almost sickly sweet,” She noted while observing her fellow council member salivate over his gifted sweets.
“I want it so bad right now, but I’ll spoil dinner,” He whined as he slipped it into his bottomless bag, “Where to next?”
“Right next door,” Miss Manus pushed open another door a little ways down the hall, “Sewing might interest me,” She noted as the two entered through a doorway. Three rows of sewing machines sat in the room with only roughly ten students working on them by Galahad’s count. Most were stationed near the door and almost all of them looked up when the two entered. They offered polite greetings before going back to work.
	“Hello, Manus,” One near the door, a tall, slender woman with a fluffy fox tail grinned, “Looking to get something mended by our club?”
	“Maybe she’s looking for Holmit,” The human woman next to her whispered, “She brought her duelist too.”
	“On guard duty, Mister Loxley?” The fox woman asked as her bright tangerine colored ears twitched atop her head.
	“Nay,” He chuckled, “We’re just looking at clubs.”
	“Oi, I made those leather straps ya wanted,” Holmit grumbled as he approached the front of the room. His robes had been doffed and he wore a plaid button up with slacks and a tool filled leather apron, “Manus?” He cocked his head and furrowed his thick eyebrows.
	“Hello, Holmit,” She smiled at her fellow council member, “You are not in trouble. We are simply observing clubs. What are you doing here?”
	“I am, as the younger dwarves call it, craft-maxing. I can forge, I can brew, now I can work with leather and cloth!” He proudly declared.
	The fox-woman giggled, “He still has a way to go, but has made great efforts thus far. Holmit is the first brave man to join our club in years. We cannot call ourselves the Seamstresses anymore because of him.”
	“Care to join, Miss President?” The dwarf asked.
	“I will list this as a possibility,” The fey-witch decided, “But we have much more to see.” 
“Suit yourself,” The dwarf smirked before returning to his work.
Miss Manus bid them farewell and returned to the hallway, “One more in this building. The… hat club.”
“Hat club?” Galahad adjusted the red cone atop his head and the circlet underneath it, “I guess I’m ready.”
	Miss Manus nodded and slowly opened a door at the end of the hall. A grouping of seven students of all kinds sat in a circle with the tables pushed against the walls. Manus observed as one excitedly opened up a large hard case, “Behold,” The human woman declared. She pulled a magicked hat from her case and put it on. It was a raven black hat with sparkling stars. She adjusted the hat, turning it to reveal the sun, Mars, Earth, Saturn, and all the rest orbiting the sun in real time, “The Astrologer’s Keepsake, as I call it.”
	“Oh, I adore it!” A gnome cried, “I MUST have it! You so liked my aquarium hat from last week, yes?” He revealed a wide brimmed wizarding hat that was crystal clear, the inside of it was a fish tank full of water with brightly colored tropical fish, vibrant pebbles to line the bottom, and numerous plants.
	An orc rubbed her chin, “Hmm… I would trade my mood hat and the trucker hat for it,” The first hat she revealed had a small brim, was completely black with a bright yellow color starting to emanate from where she gripped the brim. The second had no brim, but the back of it was a breathable mesh and the front was blue and white with the words ‘My other truck is a flying carpet’ on it and a little brightly colored carpet embroidered above the words.
The arguing and bartering for the astrologer’s hat continued. There was a hat shaped like a black duck that quacked when jostled too hard. A hat with a silvery brim and the cone part of it was translucent and filled with goop of blue, orange, and red colors that moved like a lava lamp. Last was a hat where the conical portion was covered with a winding, metal chandelier covered in ever burning candles and dripping wax that was caught in the metal brim.
	“Is this what this club is about?” Galahad wondered. 
	The chatter suddenly stopped. All seven members gave Galahad incredulous looks, “A man without so much as a slightly fancy hat would not understand,” The gnome scoffed.
	“Where did you buy your hat? From a pre-Cracking lawn gnome?” The human woman joked, making the rest laugh in a snooty fashion.
	Galahad glared, “This hat happens to mean a lot to me. Not that sentimental value would matter to you folks.”
	All of them instantly disregarded Galahad and turned to Manus, “Such simple elegance,” One cooed as they stared at her fluffy hat.
	“Useful too. A warm hat for a cold-looking fey woman,” The second agreed with a nod.
	“I would love to have it. Would you take this astrology hat for it?”
	“No, no, she wants this!” A dwarf revealed a neon green hat with a blue brim and a white front with ‘#1’ embroidered on it in red. On either side of the hat was a holder for a canned beverage along with straws to bring it down to your lips.
	“Oh, nobody wants that,” Another snarked.
“Umm,” Manus gripped the hem of her hat defensively.
“How about this? You’re a bit short, this might help,” The orc grunted as she revealed a very tall– nearly two feet tall and colored black with a belt and buckle right above the brim on the cone of it.
	“Galahad,” The witch whispered, “Give me an out.”
	“On it,” He threw a handful of salt into the air, the dust lingered between them and the club members who were slowly getting up with more ridiculous hats in each of their hands. With the wave of his staff, the duelist summoned a semi-translucent barrier, locking the club in the room and letting the two escape, “It’ll vanish in fifteen minutes!” He called to the muffled protests of the club as the two briskly headed away.

	After getting a quick dinner, Galahad and Manus were back to looking at clubs. First, they headed south of the cafeteria to the library. As usual, the same elder witch manned the front desk, using her magical rod to move books back onto the shelves when left behind by careless students. Cups, remnants of food, and discarded pens all magically made their way to the trash bins, “Let us start from the bottom and work our way up,” Miss Manus headed to the back and down a set of stairs. The basement smelled musty and the air was stale. Old, outdated tomes lined rooms stacked thick with shelves. At the far end, lights and noises came from a dim room, “There is a computer club,” Manus explained. 
	“Computers? I didn’t think you were interested in that kind of thing,” Galahad chuckled.
	“Well, I usually am not. But I am more than willing to experience new activities. Are you familiar with computers?” The fey-witch stopped as she poked her head in the door. 
	“To be honest… not very. My family had a computer, but I was always busy studying,” Galahad looked into the room as well. 
There were desks situated against the walls, each one holding its own computer with a monitor or two. There were ten computers for five students. Four of them sat at the far side of the room, chatting and yelling at one another as the same game played on all four. Close to the door sat a familiar goblin who tapped away on his keyboard. He shuddered and looked at the two wizards staring at him before taking the yellow-tinted glasses off his nose and removing the earbuds that he was wearing, “Lox?” Blud looked surprised, “What’re you doin’ here? With your president too. Lookin’ for clubs, right?”
	“Hey,” Galahad finally stepped into the room, “Yeah, we are. What do you do here? Just, uh, computer stuff?” 
	“Yup. Those guys are death matchin’ over there and I’m working on some code,” He pointed to his screen as he put his yellow glasses back on. He went to his second monitor and paused his music, elven screamo as Gahad saw it, “I’m workin’ on a game,” He pressed play on his code and Miss Manus watched in abject confusion as symbols and words appeared on the screen, “Ya gotta figure out the right codes– I based it on alchemy, before the time runs out so you can advance to the next level. It's pretty basic, but the idea is it gets more challenging, some modifiers get added, I add in some sneaky things to trip you up. I even made little alchemy graphics to help people learn," The goblin rapidly typed in the commands and executed them, playing through the alchemy game like it was second nature, "Like I said, basic but–” Blud stopped as he looked at his friends. 
Both Manus and Galahad had completely blank looks on their face and Manus’s eyes might have held a twinge of confusion, “I… cannot comprehend the formulae and magic behind these runes,” She mumbled.
“It’s… just C sharp. I…” Blud scratched his big nose, “Ma–ybe this ain’t the club for the two of ya.”
“I believe that I have to agree,” Manus nodded, “Such arcana eludes me and I am satisfied with that.”
	“Well, I wouldn’t call it magic,” Blud nervously tapped the table.
	Galahad shrugged, “It might as well be to us, Blud. We should probably go, those four are ogling you, Manus”
	“Ignore ‘em. Them death-matchers have never been this close to a woman,” The goblin joked, “Oh, Lox, would ya do me a solid? A friend of mine wants to meet you. In the arena.”
	The duelist sighed and shook his head in disbelief, “I’m not opposed to a friendly spar, I just hope they aren’t looking to prove something. We’ll be in touch about that, alright?”
	“Sweet! Thanks! I’ll catch ya later!”
	Miss Manus was quick to leave with Galahad right behind her. Back up the stairs and to the second floor they went, within one of the large meeting rooms where there was a small group of people playing games. A square table near the door had a large mat laid across it where four people gathered around. Silently Manus and Galahad entered, they stood at the edge of the table and watched as enchanted clockwork miniatures moved across the table with one player waving a specially made wand, “My elven sorcerer champion attacks your holy knight,” He pointed to the sorcerer and to the knight in question. A little green laser pointed between the two as the elven miniature took up a casting pose.
	“He has a two up save against magic,” The other man explained, a dwarf. He turned and looked at the two who had just appeared next to him, “M-Miss P-president!?” He wheezed, “W-what are you doing here?”
	“We are observing various clubs today,” She explained, “What are you playing? These clockwork pieces look quite intricate.”
	The other player, a half-elf with a blue arm band rolled some dice, “Looks like I miss… Well, I’ll move my abomination up,” He pointed at a large hulking monstrosity and a ring appeared around it. The player pointed to the edge and the beast crawled to the point marked out, “I pass my turn.”
	Galahad only saw dollar signs in his head as he watched the complex motions of the intricately painted creature, “Yeah, these do look great.”
	“It’s Forged in War. Over there they’re playing the card game,” The dwarf answered. He pointed to a table across the room. Six people played three games. Each card as it was played on an enchanted mat showed illusionary forms of the beasts and men they played.
	“It’s the latest and greatest in tabletop gaming!” One of the onlookers explained, “There’s even a pen and paper role-playing game in the same setting. What’s cool is that all three of these games are compatible with one another.”
	“No wonder it is called the Forged in War club. This one with the mechanical pieces is all about strategy and moving your pieces, correct?” The fey-witch asked, “Perhaps Fredrik would enjoy this. He speaks of being a war mage, he could use the practice of being a general.”
	“I know Fredrik has expensive taste, but these look costly. The enchantments, the clockwork movements, and that detailed paint job,” The duelist rubbed his face.
	“Well, not exactly,” Someone shook their head, “You paint it yourself. The paint and stuff isn’t expensive. We all put a lot of effort into it.”
	“Ah. So it's still expensive, but not as expensive,” He chuckled.
	The dwarf pointed at one of his horse riding knights and to another piece. A counter appeared next to the illusionary line showing how many inches it was away, “Alright, my crossbowmen are within the commanders range so they get a bonus to hit and damage,” Another line was drawn between the crossbowmen cluster and the abomination.
	“He has the natural armor ability so that negates your buff,” The half-elf explained.
	“Nah, they’re crossbowmen so they get the penetrating attack ability. They trump your bonus,” The dwarf smugly explained.
	“Hmph,” The other one folded his arms as the dwarf rolled a handful of dice into an enchanted dice box. Each of the crossbowmen shot a little illusionary arrow at the beast. During this, a number appeared above the box, a five, and thus five of the arrows struck the beast who silently howled in pain.
	“Rollin’ damage,” He picked up five dice and rolled them again along with an extra black die. A twenty appeared in white and a six in black.
	“I got fifteen armor, but piercing attack removes two of it, so seven damage, the abomination’s right arm is out,” He sadly explained.
	“He’s down an attack with his best unit now,” An onlooker explained, “And that right arm attack is strong.”
	“I should be able to heal him. I’ve still got my druids!” The half-elf declared.
	“Eh, not anymore. My lancer knights charge on your druid and his assistants,” He pointed a line between the two and rolled a ten on two dice. The horse riders dashed into the fray. 
	Galahad could see the gears turning in Miss Manus’s head, “Thinking you’ll try this club?” He asked quietly as the game continued. 
“Perhaps. Although exchanging my scholarship money for toys would not be wise, it does sound enticing,” She explained. Galahad wasn’t sure if that was a joke, “The hour grows late and our little trip nears its end. We should be off before I get any spendthrift ideas in my head.”
	“Agreed,” Galahad nodded, having the same frivolous ideas now running in his own mind. On the same floor in the smaller meeting rooms on the other side were where the literature clubs met. The duo approached that side where a cork board was strung up on the wall with details of each club. Galahad went for the door handle for one of the rooms that seemed to have some students in, “In here?”
	“Nay. Stay your hand. All the info I need is here,” She looked at the board, “Right now is… Literature in Comics club. They focus on comics, graphic novels, and… mang-gah?” She gave a confused look.
	“Probably foriegn,” The duelist guessed.
	“We have the romance and comedy club, some fantasy and sci-fi, action…” She frowned and shook her head, “I see none here that interest me particularly. Mayhaps I shall pick one at random and treat it like another class?” She continued to examine her options, seeing few that really sounded enticing.
	Galahad shook his head, his determination still obvious, “We should keep looking. I don’t want you to languish in something that’s supposed to be fun.”
	“Galahad. There are few we have left tonight.”
	“Then we can look tomorrow, this weekend even,” He insisted.
	“No. It will be more of the same. I am defeated,” She admitted, “If Headmaster Crixx will not allow me to substitute these credits, I will choose a literature club and suffer through it,” Miss Manus started down the stairs with Galahad right behind her.
	“Isn’t there another way?”
	Manus paused in thought as the two neared the cafe, “There may be one more. But starting my own club will most likely be off the table.”
	“Why’s that?”
	“I doubt I could find the support for it. One earl grey with lavender decaf tea, please,” She asked the barista before putting down a few coins on the counter and one in the tip jar.
	“What kind of club would you make? I’m sure we could scrape a few people together for it,” He insisted, “Uh, just some lemonade for me, please. Strawberry,” He handed over a few dollars and took a seat with the president at a small table, each one sipping their respective drinks, “You like reading, right? What do you like to read, ancient myths, right?”
	The fey-witch stared into her cup and nodded, “Pre Cracking mythos and legends have always been interesting. I would love to find others who share that interest.”
	“There you go, will you start that club then?” 
	“I would like a back up. I will have two weeks to attain at least five members after the start date– not including myself. Should I fail this, I will join another. But which…?”
	“Make two clubs. Make the second one something more general,” Galahad suggested quickly before loudly sipping on his lemonade.
	“I do not wish to bear the load of running two clubs, Galahad. I appreciate your enthusiasm, I truly do, but this is beyond even me.”
	“Then I’ll lead the second club. I’m sure I could handle it,” He offered.
	Miss Manus’s eyes lit up, “Truly? You would do this? Despite being a first year?”
	“I’m a lot older than the actual first years, Miss Manus.”
	“True, but what club would you start that could draw a crowd?” 
Galahad looked down in to the sour, strawberry-filled drink and mulled it over in his head. He had an answer, one that he wasn’t sure he would be happy with, “I’m sure if I started a duelists club they would flock to me. Remember what Blud said? His friend wanted to fight me. Whether to learn or prove themselves, I’m sure I can get enough.”
“What would I do? I have to participate,” The fey-witch reminded him. 
“You could referee. Under your watchful eye you could call the points and make judgements. You’d also be there to make sure no one dies,” He shrugged, “I know you’re not an abjurationist nor a chirurgeon, but they should listen to you, at least.”
	Miss Manus finished her drink, “Very well. I will leave management to you for this duelists club. Friday afternoon should be a good time for you, the arena should be free. I will take the morning on the same day for my own club. Come, we must submit applications to the dean before the day is up. Thankfully for us, Dean Zucarius stays quite late compared to other staff members.”

	. . . . .

	A week later marked the end of the sixth week of the fall term. Friday morning had come and Miss Manus had made her way to the upper floor of the library alone, her thick cloak weighed on her shoulders and her heart pounded anxiously. Would anyone show? She wondered silently as she clutched one of her favorite books to her chest. She checked the cork board next to the meeting room, ‘Myths and Legends in History’ was the name she had decided on, deciding to expand the club to include other race’s myths eventually. She sighed and opened the door to the room. A gallon-sized jug of water had been placed in the middle of the table with ice cubes in it. A goblin set a little stack of disposable cups next to it before taking a seat. 
	Miss Manus looked around at the faces who had already shown. Galahad had shown, as she expected, but Suzie and Rald as well. Suzie was showing Galahad how to find the book on his phone, “And people really read on their phone?” He gawked at his screen.
	“There are entire sites dedicated to reading on the internet, Galahad,” The gnome sighed, “Not even just books. Short stories, comics, textbooks.”
	“This is gonna hurt my eyes,” He grumbled as he took it back.
	“Good morning, President Manus!” Suzie called, “We got here early to set up.”
	“I see you already brought tea,” Rald sighed in defeat as she put away a little kettle and cups.
	“Thank you all for coming,” Manus smiled. Both Galahad and Suzie were surprised how big the smile was, “We–”
	The door opened again, “Is this the myths club?” A gnomish man with glasses and a head of white hair asked. There was a short griffonite man behind him as well.
	“Yes it is, please take a seat,” Miss Manus smiled, “Welcome. Please write your name down on this members list. Secondly, you will need to acquire a copy of our first book on your own time. We will be starting with The Iliad, a recount on the oft thought fictional Trojan War. It is amongst the oldest works of western literature along with our next book, The Odyssey,” She looked at her club mates, “How silly of me. We should have begun with introductions. Let us go around the table. I am The Multifold Manus of Alderia, president of House Karak-Albrac, and enjoyer of legends and myths.” 
	Miss Manus was filled with glee as her fellow club members went around the table and introduced themselves. She had all the members she needed already and had nothing to worry about now. All that was left was to do her best to run the club. It should be no different than teaching, no? She told herself with a near silent chuckle.