A devilish grin spread across the purple imp's face. A sigil had been drawn on an isolated path on the south part of campus. Rita McKenzie grinned from ear to ear as she excitedly waited for a new victim for her little prank. She sat on a thick tree branch a few yards up from the path, hidden from view as she stared down at her trap. The look on the face of the unlucky soul to come down this path would be priceless, her tail flicking back and forth in anticipation. Within a few moments the imp found herself bored, waiting and waiting until finally someone turned the corner. She eyed them for a moment before a sudden realization hit her. It was Galahad and that gnomish woman. They were headed right for her trap! It would be exciting, but the duelist's arm– but what if the gnome sprung the trap instead, no no, too risky! Rita came to a quick decision and leapt down from her hiding spot, avoiding her trap as she sauntered over to the two.
	"Mister Galahad Loxley, to what do I owe this pleasure?" She said with feigned seriousness accompanied by her grin. The duelist smiled back but the gnome frowned, her eyes staring daggers at the imp. 
	"Hello, Rita. I was actually looking for you," Said Galahad, "Your housemates told me I'd find you somewhere around here."
	The imp sneakily used her foot to dispel her trap, "And you have! So what's up?"
	“Well,” Galahad adjusted his arm and glanced down at the gnome, “I was talking to my house, now that I’m on the council, I was asked to talk to you.”
	“And you are! Is that all?” She cheekily asked.
	“This isn’t gonna work,” The gnome grumbled. 
	The duelist rolled his eyes, “Look. We can't have you pranking our students this much, Rita. It's getting in the way of their studies as well as damaging their property.”
	“I am just adding some much needed excitement to the lives of a bunch of eggheads. Honestly, Galahad, did you have to join such a boring house? Oh, if you’re on the council, maybe you can breathe some life into those nerds!”
	“Boring!?” The gnome was taken aback, “We are focused on our schooling unlike you! We have diligence and–”
	Galahad put a hand on the gnome's shoulder, "Relax, Suzie. Let’s not get off topic. Why don't we make a deal? I owe you my thanks for your help with the duels, so what can I offer you in return?"
	Rita thought it over for a moment, her wings fluttering at the thought. What could he offer her? She looked over his bandaged and slung arm, the first obstacle for any reasonable or unreasonable demands she might have had. Pranking him now with anything like her last trap might hurt him further and on top of that get her expelled. She looked at the gnome who scowled back, she would miss pranking that little sack of potatoes and others like her, so whatever she asked for had better be worth it.
	"Come on, Galahad, this is a waste of time," Suzie hissed under her breath. 
	Galahad gently pat his good hand on her shoulder, "I can handle this if you have things to do," He replied. His stubbornness in his condition only made the gnome feel guilty. She sighed and resolved herself to stay, watching the wheels turn in Rita's head with a grimace.
	"I got it!" Rita exclaimed, pounding her fist into her open hand. "I'll stop messing with your underclassmen on one condition, Mister Loxley," She gave a wicked smile, pausing to wait for his reaction. She could see the gnome squirming behind him, but Suzie held her tongue. Galahad smiled back, which only mystified Rita.
	"Name your price, Miss McKenzie," he matched her tone in reply. 
	"I will allow you to heal that arm first. Afterwards, Galahad, you will become my single most valuable target,” Her lips contorted into the most devilish of grins, “All of my pranks will be played on you and you alone. My housemates, those of whom will listen, will also focus on you if they wish to prank anyone in House Egghead,” The imp laid out her rules smugly.
	Galahad nodded, "I'll agree on one condition. I’m not going to make it easy for any of you. Any spell that I can break, reverse or retaliate, I will. If I can simply avoid it, I’ll do that too."
	"Ohoho–o, that just makes it more exciting," Rita snickered at the thought, not only would she get another shot at pranking Galahad, she would get to see her housemates' faces should the boy outplay them.
	"We'll be extra sneaky, so you better be on your guard!"
	"Good. The sneakier the better, I could use the practice," The duelist smirked.
	"You're going to turn this campus into a warzone…" Suzie grumbled, “You better not let campus security catch you.”
	"They've never caught me before!" Rita proudly proclaimed, “And they NEVER will! Be ready Galahad, for as soon as that arm is healed, you will be the target of many a nefarious prank.”
	“I’m looking forward to it, Rita. Suzie, we should probably go before she decides she doesn’t want to wait,” Galahad smirked as he led the gnome away.
	“Right… uh, bye, Rita,” The gnome offered a tiny wave to the minute imp who returned the gesture.
	Rita grinned before cloaking herself in the shroud of an invisibility spell. She had much to do. Studying Galahad’s movements was the first one. Next, new and more ingenious pranks that she would brainstorm with her house members. Then the waiting game would begin. 

	. . . . .

	“Thanks for meeting with me, Sophia.”
	The cat-witch slouched in her seat. She was a little upset that this was the only person that would listen to her, “Of course,” She mewled slowly in a tone that betrayed her melancholic feelings, her ears drooping slightly.
	The journalist across from her looked over her notes. The sounds of the busy cafeteria on a Thursday evening set the stage for their interrogation. Bright lights overhead cast shadows across the cat-woman’s face from the wide brim of her hat. Carly on the other hand was practically glowing ever since Sophia had mentioned she had a story to tell. She looked much too giddy for such a serious subject, Sophia told herself.
	“Now then,” Carly cleared her throat, “About two weeks ago you submitted a report to campus security. Correct?”
	“Yes. I did.”
	“And what was it you described?” Carly prodded, placing her recorder closer to the cat-witch while she took the pen to her notepad.
	She saw the cat’s ears twitch as she tried to recall the waking nightmare, “I had just come back from town where my House had partied late into the night– it was the night after the last duels you see. I had taken care of a few things, and I was one of the last to return to the academy grounds. It was rainy, dark, and I caught the scent and feeling of something… off. I teleported myself into the lab building to watch the path below. A… horrid shadow came from the woods. There was blood, which they washed off with a spell, a mask to cover their face, and a dark cloak hiding the rest of them. I-I teleported down to confront them and they had already vanished into the night. I feared for the worst, since I've heard about missing persons on campus. Even some of the new students…”
	“Blood?” Carly furiously took notes, “A killer? Murderer? Hunter?” She paused as a smirk spread across her lips, “The Butcher! The Butcher of Fairgarland, on the prowl on a rainy night! Coming from the woods where–”
	“You’re not taking this seriously at all!” Sophia balked in disbelief, “There could be a killer on this campus right now, and you are GRINNING ear to ear!”
	“I AM taking this seriously," Carly protested, "But look at this from my perspective. If this is real, which I doubt,” A scoff came from the journalist’s mouth, “Then this is a wild scoop. More people will be on the lookout for the Butcher, people will be prepared for it if they're smart, and maybe someone will catch him! The campus will be that much safer with the story out. Maybe this is even how those student’s vanished!"
Sophia's ears fell back at the thought of anyone confronting said Butcher, "I-I suppose, but what if people panic–"
	"If it’s not real," Carly interjected, "most likely just the exhausted hallucinations of a hungover witch, it will make an interesting addition to our upcoming short fiction block. I’m leaning more towards fiction, knowing who your mother is. A wild old looney with too much money. Her daughter is much the same.”
	“How dare you. My mother–”
	“E-excuse me?” A voice interrupted the two. A meek looking, short goblin woman with a cat-like mouth nervously wrung her hands together, “The thing you’re talking about…”
	“The Fairgarland Butcher?” Carly sighed dejectedly, “No need to worry about it. It’s nothing more than the inane ramblings of–”
	“I believe her,” The goblin interrupted again, “My brother told me the same thing even before the duels. I-I didn’t believe him but…”
	Sophia looked from the goblin with her mouth slightly agape to Carly. Carly had stars in her eyes before furiously scribbling down the details, “Sit down. What’s your name?”
	“Rald.”
	“Damn goblin names,” Carly sighed, “So what did your brother tell you?”
	“Uh, it wasn’t much. The semester had just started, I found him passed out in a bush on a rainy night, he started rambling about blood and a cloaked figure. I-I shut him down and… slapped him,” She sighed, her breath filled with regret, “I should have listened to him.”
	Sophia’s tail flicked, “So, now what?”
	“Well, I could run the story, but there’s not a lot to go off of,” Carly grumbled, “I could embellish it. I need to interview your brother.”
	“We’re talking about a supposed murderer!” Rald hissed as she leaned in, “We are putting all of our lives in danger– YOU are putting all of our lives, and my brother’s, if you publish this.”
	Carly paused for a moment, it was as if the brain fog had finally lifted slightly. She was no longer only thinking about the scoop, the threat of death finally creeped into her mind as she continued thinking about it, “Right. But. Imagine the story if WE stop the Butcher!”
	“You cannot be serious,” Sophia rubbed her face.
	“Just the three of us? We should be involving the police!” Rald growled.
	“Now, now. No need to be hasty. There are three of us, plus the goblin’s brother, and one Butcher,” Carly decided, “We become heroes, we stop the Butcher, and most importantly: I publish my story. Win-win-win!”
	“Oh my Lord. You are serious,” Grief was the only thing in Sophia’s voice.
	“Doesn’t your mom have connections?” Carly quickly continued, “Like, big hero connections?”
	Rald knit her brow, “You mean the ‘big eight,’ right?”
	Sophia rolled her eyes, “Yes. The ‘big eight’ group of heroes and adventurers. The ones that stopped the second Cataclysm from happening. Stopped Sol Eater and all that. My grandmother funded them and my mother learned from Arthur Maximillion. I have met them a few times at parties my grandmother has thrown.” 
	Rald’s eyes grew wide, “You know Spark Bolt-Wrench!?” She gasped, “I wanted to study technomancy because of her!”
	The cat-witch nodded slowly, “Yes. I know the mother-goblin of modern technomancy,” She sighed, “But I do not want to involve them.”
	"Why not?" Carly questioned, "This is serious! Or so you say."
	"Because if the campus security won't take this seriously, why would they?"
	"You should still try," The goblin grumbled.
	"I will, but I already know their answer, 'You should be able to handle it,' or 'we have bigger problems right now, like war brewing in the east!'" Sophia put on mocking voices for conversations she had had many times before.
	“Fi–iine,” Carly scratched off a few headlines like ‘FAMOUS HEROES TAKE DOWN THE BUTCHER OF FAIRGARLAND,’ “Then who else? The D.H.I.F?”
	“Who?” Rald frowned, “Is that like a… what does Blud call them… MILF?”
	“No, no, no, no, no!” Sophia rubbed her temples, “The Demi Human Integration Force. They deal with weird creatures, monsters, investigations, race relations, a lot of stuff. They’re good, but maybe the Mage Council Task Force? They might listen a little more since wizards are vanishing,” The cat girl sighed, “But I don’t know if that’s a good idea, still.”
“So now what?” Carly frowned and folded her arms.
“Well, we’ve heard of missing persons, right? We could try to investigate that, figure out what exactly is going on,” Rald suggested, “But we really should keep this under wraps. If the Butcher knows we’re onto them, they could skip town and start again somewhere else.”
Sophia took off her big hat and ran her well manicured fingers through her hair, “Agreed. Who is the Butcher, well, butchering? That should be the main question.”
	“More field research is required,” Carly deduced as she started to write in another journal, “I need to see him, see where he’s coming from, try to figure out where he’s going, and most importantly, where is that blood coming from?” She spoke into her recorder before shutting it off and putting it away, “Give me your phone numbers.”
	“Uh, why?” Rald frowned.
	“You two are gonna be my partners for this. And we’re gonna catch the Butcher!”
	Rald and Sophia looked at one another for a moment. The goblin shrugged, “Alright. Fine. I’ll help you get your story.”
	“Yes, yes. I do not want your blood on my hands. Someone has to keep you from doing something stupid,” The cat-witch sighed, “If you are not too busy, I would like to meet with your brother and explain the situation."
Rald nodded, hopping up from her seat, "I’ll give him a call tonight, he should be somewhere on campus."

    . . . . . 

	"Ooh, and Grork Fork-Tusk is down for the count!" Blud felt deflated, watching as one of his favorite 'chefs' was knocked out by his opponent with a meat tenderizer. The goblin sank back into the couch and exhaled, his disappointment weighing heavily on him. It was late on a Wednesday evening and Blud was waiting for his sister to finish with her volunteering time at the infirmary. It was the necromancy house’s time block for the rec room and lab. Being in the Seeker’s house, he was able to use the lab or recreation areas whenever he wanted. He had lingered here all day, not having many classes on Wednesday. He was starting to regret being such a good big brother due to how much time he spent waiting for her. His mind wandered far as the commercial break came on alongside the fast scrolling credits of the cooking show. He thought of food, specifically of cow heart burgers and sweet breads made of breaded and fried glands.
	The couch the small goblin sat on creaked and rocked backwards as someone plopped down next to him, rousing him from his thoughts. When Blud looked over, he saw their eyes just as glued to the screen as his were a moment ago. A tall woman with crimson chiton covering her arms and legs. She wore dark blue, sheer, and silken robes with white flowers embroidered on them. A horn stuck out from beneath her hood in a J shape where it forked on the end as it turned from crimson to black. Blud made a face, “Ya don’t look like one of them necromancers,” He grunted.
	The woman next to him flinched before looking at him. The face that turned over to him was jarring right away. Four eyes with black sclera and bright yellow pupils, the absence of a nose, and two crimson, chitinous mandibles that tucked neatly against her chin. But there was some kind of feminine beauty in those inhuman features. She stared the goblin down with a near blank expression. It was almost as though she was unsure if he had said anything at all. All four eyes finally blinked in unison, “I did not sees you, small one,” She put on a little smile that showed off a row of sharp teeth, “I was so–” She paused, as if thinking hard on what she would say next, “Angrassed with the show, I did not see you when I jamped over the couch.”
	“Angrassed?” Blud echoed in confusion, “Jamped? What are you talking about?”
	“I am many sorry. I am not such good at english,” She meekly bowed her head. Her accent was very thick. Blud figured it was some eastern accent, but he wasn’t sure where to place it, “I come from fars away. I am Reccoa Sano.”
	“Uh, Blud Raxpedalia,” The goblin replied, “Of the Seeker’s House.”
	“Ah! A fledgling weezerd. I am in Hause Faith.”
	“So you’re a sorcerer,” Blud hazarded an easy guess, choosing to ignore the beetle woman’s strange speech, “I’m not really a fledgling caster, I’m just a generalist.”
	“Jeaneralist?” Reccoa echoed in confusion. 
Blud opened his mouth to explain, but the explosion coming from the TV and the orcish shouting brought his and the beetle’s attention back to the screen, “WELCOME BACK TO DA KITCHEN!” The opening shrieked, bombs exploded, and an axe chopped through a slab of concrete– which also exploded as the commercial break ended, “In dis episode, we got Boar-Drink Fryin'-Hands going up against da professional Grim-Chef Buffalo-Wings-The-Redeemer for da ever illustrious title of ‘BEST ORC CHEF OF DA WEEK!’”
	“I am believing that Grim-Chef has this in the, how you say, duffel,” Reccoa noted as she stared in awe at the screen.
	“I think you mean the bag,” Blud corrected. 
	“Bag of duffel. I am of understand,” Reccoa rolled her eyes.
	Blud blinked slowly, “Reccoa. Can I call you that?” Saying a full name like that didn’t really feel good as it left his mouth.
	“Yessums.”
	“Where are you from?”
	She looked back over, pulling her eyes away as Grim-Chef used a chainsaw to cut up an ethically sourced elephant, “I am from Japan. I had flee from the Empire along whit my family.”
	“I see…” For once, Blud regretted snoozing during geography and world history. He wanted to pry more into her past, but for once decided against it. Despite her bug-like appearance, there was something charming in that face and he didn’t dare scare her off. He doubted anything would come of it, but after befriending Lox, he was more than willing to meet new people, “Oh! Grim-Chef is climbing the high-dive!” He suddenly cried.
	“Yes! Yes!” Reccoa’s eyes– all four of them lit up as she clutched her chiton covered hands, “Is that the sauce of Buffalo in that tub?”
	“He’s gonna have to bungee jump down to it, the spice rack too,” Blud watched as the orc strapped himself in and grabbed a small goblin, one in each hand. 
	“I don’t believe it!” The announcer shouted, “Grim-Chef, havin’ run behind, is double dippin’ some gobbos to help ‘im grab dem spices and a bowl of buffalo sauce! Boar-Drink is just watchin’ now. Look at dat smug look on ‘is face. Now– Grim-Chef is jumpin’!” Just like the orc said, the famous chef jumped with a goblin in each hand. The bungee cord held firm despite the weight as they careened down to the spice rack that hung from numerous chains. The first bounce down they opened the rack. Up they went before falling back down, no cries coming from their stoic faces. As they reached it again, the goblins grabbed exactly what they needed. Four little jars in one’s hands and one in his mouth while the other had grabbed the sauce, salt, and pepper. The third drop down, Grim-Chef dropped off his goblins who hurried back to their stations. The fourth drop and the chef sliced through the bungee cord with a big cleaver. He landed on his feet and rolled putting his hands in the air in victory.
	“A four point landin’! How will Boar-Drink respond!?” The announcer cried.
	Both Reccoa and Blud let out an ‘Awww!’ as the TV cut to a commercial break, “Did you see that!?” Blud shouted.
	“Yes, yes!” The bug woman nodded, “The gobulins were used in wonderfulous fashion!” 
	The two suddenly stopped as a soft noise sent a shiver down their spines. Both turned to look behind the couch where a cloaked form stood. Clad in all black with skulls on the shoulders was a pale face framed in shadows from a hood. Her sunken eyes were fixed on the TV but after a moment of silence they peered down on the two students with a blank expression. Her nose curled up before she turned heel and stalked off.
	“Jeez,” Blud sunk in his seat.
	“The presidant of necro house. Edelgarde,” Reccoa whispered. 
	The goblin shrugged, “She didn’t seem too thrilled with what we were watchin’...”
	A few moments passed as a commercial for orcish meat cleavers came on, “Blaad,” The bug girl turned, quickly reading the room, “Mayhaps we should leaf this place. Go elsewhere to friend? Or–” She paused, “To hang-up? Watch orc show elsewhere?”
	“I… yeah, I’m down for that,” The goblin felt relieved, “But I gotta figure out a nickname for ya if we’re gonna be friends. Somethin’ one syllable long,” The goblin put his red, pointed hat on and rubbed his stubble covered chin.
	“Cylinber? Nack-name?” She echoed.
	“Like a…” Blud scratched his head, “Like, to a goblin, such as me, it's like calling a friend something new to show you’re friends. Ya’ know?”
	Slowly, the woman nodded, “Yes. Am understand.”
	“Rec, Coa… Sano? No. San? Yeah, I can call ya San.”
	“That is merely an honorific? Is not the new friendship name,” She gave a confused look. 
	“Ah, but most here wouldn’t call ya that and I got to it by shortenin’ your name. Just like my buddy Lox, or Loxley,” Blud proudly explained. 
	“Lox? Loxley?” Her face showed that her mind was racing, “You are knowing the dueling, Galahad?”
	“Yup. That’s my best buddy! I could arrange some kinda meetin’ if ya want.”
	“Oooh…” She looked at her hands, “I am wishing to meet this duel-Lox on the arena. Would he do that?”
	“I dunno, he’s said he doesn’t really like fighting. Despite the whalloping he gave Harold. It was just something he had to do for that Manus lady.”
	“President of Albrac. Is she enchantress? Put him under her spell? Needs help?”
	“Nah, Lox is WAY stronger than anyone here. He’s fine, totally fine. I can talk to him next time I see him, but he told me he’s gonna be busy tomorrow with his studyin’ or whatever. I’ll figure it out. After this episode, wanna grab a bite to eat and watch some more in the cafeteria?”
	“My heart flutters at the thought of new friendship! For that, I am up!” Reccoa grinned with her sharp teeth, “I do not enjoy the essence the necro-house reverberates over this room. Oh, but I am of great need to watch Grim-Chef win this combat.”
	Blud smiled, glad that she felt the same way. His pocket buzzed, the phone that sat in it notifying him of a message. He checked it to see he had been brought into a group message. His sister was one of them and he didn’t recognize the other two numbers. ‘Blud. This is Carly with the Fairgarland Inquirer. Could I please speak to you in person?’
	The goblin scoffed, ‘I’m not selling out Lox, lady.’
	Rald responded quickly, ‘It’s not about Lox, Blud. It’s about that guy. The one you saw that night. We need to talk.’
	 
	. . . . .

	“Oh!” Headmaster Jasper Crixx yelped in surprise as she pulled the door to her office open. Balloons, confetti, and even flowers fell out of her office. The same party decorations were covering the floor too. A sparkling, folded note was tacked to her door with an emerald colored thumbtack that caught the golem’s eye. She unpinned it and opened it up, sighing before she read the fancy cursive aloud, “You are more precious than any gold or gem, more valuable to me than silk or silver,” She read from the note, “Your secret admirer.”
Headmaster Crixx held the note close to her chest. Her body slowly shifted from a dull, gray metal to a lovely, sandy, pink stone, “Another note from your secret lover, Jasper?” A chorus of soft-spoken voices asked the transmutation headmaster in unison.
	“It seems like it. A good Thursday morning to you, Headmaster Larch,” Crixx smiled at the animated tree. Numerous formless and multicolored spirits flitted around it, each one just as eager as the last to start the day. The tree itself had a near permanent wooden smile on its bark, “I appreciate the note, but does he need to fill my office with this?”
	The spirit filled tree’s leaves rustled quietly as they peered into the office, “They seem to be conjured," One voice pointed out, "Did he leave you a dispelling phrase?” another asked.
	Crixx looked the note over again before looking at the back of it, “It seems to be a riddle… 'I attend every party, I am at every wedding. I celebrate birthdays and holidays. I look good in any color, and even come wearing flowers. When I arrive people love me, but everywhere I go I leave a mess.' What do you suppose that could be?"
	Professor Larch’s many sprites swirled around the hallway, “Cake? We love cake.”
	“Cake is not always messy. What do you use to celebrate? Balloons?” The sprites entered Jasper’s office and swirled up some confetti and flowers from the floor idly, “Is rice still used these days?”
“That is more of a wedding celebration, I believe.”
	"But it said it goes to weddings!"
	“Confetti?” Jasper guessed again. All at once, the balloons, confetti, and flowers that were all thrown around the room vanished, leaving only a bouquet of flowers in a glass vase on her desk. She sighed with relief, “Wonderful. I can finally work.” 
“Good morning, Headmaster Crixx, and a good morning to The Many of the Few,” Dean Zuccarius greeted as he slowly walked down the hallway to his office. He held his simple wooden staff with swirling, moving carvings on it in one hand and an open letter in the other.
	"Good morning, Dean Zucarius," the many spirit-filled tree cheered.
	“Good morning to you, as well,” Jasper nodded, “I hope all is well? I count a few wrinkles of worry on your face today.”
	“Worry?” The Dean chuckled, “I know not if I should be worried,” He presented the letter to the two deans, “But part of me does.”
	Larch took it, a few of the sprites presenting it to the rest. The cluster spoke after clearing their collective throat, “As of the high wizard court’s decision, for the crime of trespassing into the Sundered Lands of Yellowstone, Professor and Headmaster Xavos Daldomel shall return to Fairgarland Academy and be bound to the premises to teach as part of his community service for twenty years. To Dean Zacharius Zucarius, please keep an eye on him as he is not allowed to leave campus and please report any violations of this order to the high court.”
	“Xavos is returning to us?” Headmaster Crixx’s body changed to a faded, sunbleached limestone, “He has been gone for two years.”
	“Yes, he has been in a lot of hot water ever since he teleported his personal tower to Yellowstone, directly into a heavily restricted area in search of condensed mana,” Headmaster Larch noted, "Thankfully he did not find himself sundered and instead a security detail found him. The same could not be said for his tower," The Dean chuckled to himself.
	"So he's going to be here for the foreseeable future? When? For how long? Ohh, I hope he doesn't do anything reckless." Jasper whimpered.
	Zacharius nodded quickly, “I know not the details, but I for one am glad he is able to return to us, as I am sure Master Utosh will be as well. There are very few evocation grandmasters who are willing to teach or can actually teach. He will be welcomed back warmly by me.”
	“We have no qualms with the evocationist,” The Many of the Few concluded with its joined voices, “Good day to you both. We must take our leave and prepare for classes,” Numerous sprites flitted away and into the headmaster’s office while the tree itself took the rest to the outside. 
	“I believe your star student is approaching,” The dean smiled at Crixx, “Good day.”
	“Yes, good day,” The magical construct nodded as her body slowly morphed to a shining metal before she took her seat at her desk. She booted up her small laptop and pulled up some student files. 
	A blue face peeked in through the open doorway, “Headmaster Crixx?”
	“Please come in, Manus,” Jasper waved her in with a smile, “Good morning.”
	“Good morning, Headmaster,” Miss Manus sat herself on a wooden chair across from the magicked golem, “What pretty flowers.”
	Jasper set her admirer’s note next to them, “Yes, a wonderful collection, a rainbow of flowers,” She noted, “You should have seen the balloons and confetti that adorned my office just five minutes ago.”
	“What sort of fiend would break in and leave such a mess?” Miss Manus wondered as she folded her arms. Her middle set of arms held a warm cup of tea in a reusable metal bottle.
	“Whomever my mad secret admirer is,” Jasper turned a sandy pink again as she wondered about it, “I find his gestures romantic. Anywho, enough about that. Tell me of the going-ons of House Karak-Albrac.”
	“Galahad has become our official duelist. He moved in a week ago and has begun his classes again. Even with a broken arm, he has been doing well– at least grade B work in my class. On top of that he has made every other house back off our new lab and recreation time under threat of having to go against him. We have had the boon of high morale. The younger students have another decent role model, and our application rate is quite high because of it.”
	“I pray they do not wish to fight like him. They have no one to teach them basic magical combat,” Crixx sighed, “Although, a certain evocationist is returning to our humble academy.”
	“Headmaster Daldomel is returning to us?” Miss Manus gasped, “He was very involved in House Fritz’Eleo. Perhaps he will tone President Harold down?”
	“I know not his plans or the details of his return. But perhaps he will attempt to start a class on the basics of combat when he hears people have an interest in it?” The Headmaster wondered, “Anywho, Manus I am sure you want to chat about where you are with your path to mastery and be on with your day?”
	The fey-witch shifted in her seat, “Well, I would not say it like that.”
	“Come now, we both have things to do so let us waste no time," The construct headmaster tapped her student's paperwork together neatly before looking over it, “With your current projected path with your classes, you will have more than enough credits in two terms to graduate and apply for magical mastery of transmutation, and go through the exam as such. But…” She stopped at a page deep on the pile, “You will be missing some extracurricular credits. Unfortunately this will keep you from graduating.”
	“I see,” Miss Manus did not slouch or frown in response, “What must I do?”
	"The easiest course of action would be to participate in club activities. This would have been best to do during your earlier years as there would have been less studying by comparison, however I have confidence that this would not be a problem for someone as diligent as you."
	“How much do I require?” Miss Manus inquired quickly.
	“If you join one club, about two semester's worth of time. We are halfway through the first semester. You have more than enough time."
	Manus stood at once, "Then I must seek out a club to enter."
	"I will remind you, you must participate. Pick one that interests you, Manus."
	“Thank you. I look forward to speaking to you again next semester,” Miss Manus gave a little bow and stepped away, her mind sifting through what few clubs she could remember. Perhaps it was time to pay them a visit.

. . . . .

	It was five in the morning at Fairgarland. Amethyst eyes lay open, staring up at the ceiling of an apartment bedroom. Master Utosh hadn’t slept. Yesterday she had pulled an all nighter trying to keep on top of the duties foisted on her as the substitute headmaster of Fritz’Eleo as well as the students she was charged with teaching, not to mention her personal thesis project that had been put on the proverbial backburner for nearly two years now. How was she going to prove the existence of what she called Starlight Mana? Most people nowadays agreed that it was moon cycles that could control the strength of one’s spells, but that was just superstition. If mana was constant, then there was no way the moon would be responsible for its ebb and flow. It had to be the stars, but as of late there was no time for her to even attempt to prove such a thing was true. Her windup clock began to chime, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Alright, Yilandra, we can do this,” She said, forcing herself out of bed. She dragged herself to the mirror, immediately noticing how dull her purple skin had become, how little her sterling hair glowed. She felt like she was human again, all her energy sapped over these long two years, all because Professor Daldomel wanted to discover more fragments of condensed mana. Yilandra silently cursed the man for ignoring his duties for his own personal interests.
	She sighed as she waved a hand to pull the drawers of the vanity open. Firstly, she cleansed herself of what little grime she had on her body using a spell that covered her in a vanilla-cherry scent. Next she braided her long, silvery hair and folded it in on itself in a bun. A hooded robe that suggested a shade of amaranthine would be her attire for the day, at least until she could ask one of the healers to cast a rejuvenation spell on her later. For now she would have to down some mana infused caffeine and be Master Utosh. Once the brew was done she quickly downed it, grabbed her bag and several large mana potions, stuffed them inside and made her way into the hall and down the stairs, greeting each professor on the way down.
	“Oh, Master Utosh!” An elderly woman called out to her. Yilandra shuddered, knowing full well whose voice it belonged to. She turned at once, seeing the wrinkled gnomish woman with her tall, silver-veiled hennin fast approaching. “Master Utosh, goodness you look dreadful today. Are you quite alright?”
	“I am fine, Headmaster Lysteria.” Yilandra answered curtly.
	The divination headmaster shrugged, “If you insist.”
Yilandra sighed, “What is it that you needed?”
	“There will be another meeting shortly after classes are through today, around three in the afternoon at the Grand Hall.” The gnome asserted. “Though for some reason in my daily divinations I did not see you attending. May I ask why?”
	“I have no earthly idea, Headmaster. It is my intent to be at every meeting, you know this.” Yilandra retorted.
	“I am rarely wrong about these things, so I suggest today you be extra careful. I do not wish to see you hurt or collapse from exhaustion, so be mindful of your surroundings.” While the old gnome usually meant well, Yilandra had expected her to accuse her of skipping out on the meeting. This cautionary approach was… different. Did she really look so miserable? Perhaps getting that rejuvenation spell first thing before class was in order.

	The inside of the infirmary was empty, as it was too early for the volunteers and thankfully there were no injured students. It was clean as it always was, almost sterile by Yilandra’s estimate, with beds empty and sheets neatly folded over them, the walls completely spotless and the floors scrubbed - magically of course. At the back of the room was a door to an office where the master chirurgeon could talk to patients confidentially. Yilandra saw that the light was on. The head apothecary and master chirurgeon Percival Reedsong was rigorous in keeping everything tidy and ready for any emergencies, which the halfling no doubt would handle by his lonesome given the chance. He practically lived in the infirmary. Yilandra had only seen him work on injured students once or twice in the years she had been at Fairgarland, and from what she could tell even back then he was destined for mastery of the craft. Setting bones, stitching up lacerations, there was nothing the halfling couldn’t do when it came to the healing arts. It was no wonder to her that he was the head apothecary.
	“Percival Reedsong.” Yilandra called out as she entered the campus infirmary.
	“Yilandra Utosh.” He answered from the backroom, his annoyed tone implying he knew exactly what it was she wanted.
	“I brought the appropriate mana potions.” She said, hoping that would be enough to sway him.
	“Well, I suppose that’s better than nothing at all,” He replied, opening the office door. As a halfling, he barely came up to her waist, and though he looked like a young man in his early twenties, Yilandra knew he was easily in his sixties by now. He eyed her curiously, reaching back behind the door for his gnarled wooden staff. “Well, looks to me like you could use more than a spell to cure what ails you…” He grumbled, “Are you feeling alright?”
	“I will be once you’re done.” She answered, “I’ve just not been able to… keep up with my duties lately.”
	“This has been going on for some time. A year or two now, by my estimate. I am certain you are suffering from insomnia, mana withdrawal and a lack of daily vitamins, Yilandra. I cannot keep casting these spells on you indefinitely, even as an elemental you must rest,” Said Percival, taking her hand and turning it over in his. He examined her palm, her wrist, and felt her pulse while resting his tall staff against his shoulder.
	“You haven’t slept since yesterday, have you?”
	“What, did you take up divination recently?” The elemental replied snidely.
	“I don’t need divination to figure out what those bags under your eyes mean.” He retorted.
“Look, Percival, I just need to get through today’s classes– and a meeting, and I’ll take the rest of the day off to rest, okay? But I need you to get me through all of that,” She said before glancing at a clock on the wall. “And do it quickly, I have to be on the other side of campus in an hour.”
	Percival groaned, “Fine. I don’t want to hear that you collapsed from exhaustion today anyway.” He said, waving her into his office.
	Yilandra smiled at the halfling chirurgeon before passing by him on her way through the door. “Thanks, Percy.”
	“Don’t call me that. I hate doing this spell. It always leaves me drained by the end.” He frowned before starting the rejuvenation spell.
	“That’s why I brought you extra mana potions today.” Yilandra smiled, pulling them from her bag and placing them on his desk, “And a little something extra,” A paper bag was also brought out.
	Percival eyed the paper sack, “I don’t accept alcohol during work hours. It gives me shaky hands.”
	“Then drink it when you’re off.” The elemental woman laughed. “I know you like that Goldharbor brew. You were under the table with the stuff during the last Christmas party. Lysteria was so red in the face at the songs you sang.”
	“Just be quiet and sit still.” He grumbled, not wanting to be reminded of that embarrassing scolding he got from the wisened gnomish woman after he had sobered up.

	The spell had taken longer than Yilandra had expected, forcing her to run across campus to make it to the boarding school in time. She ran up the stairs, stumbling on the last one before catching herself on the rail, "Good morning, class,” She greeted as she hurried into the room, only two minutes late, “Today we will be doing some practical training for you beginner evocationists," Master Utosh announced at the front of her classroom.  Before her were young teenagers of all races and creeds, each enrolled in Fairgarland’s boarding school program. There was a collective groan from somewhere in the middle of the students, which irked her to no end. She flicked her wand and pushed everyone back in their chairs, bidding them to stand up and follow her. "Come along, we're off to the arena. I will instruct you there. Be sure to bring any casting implements and mana potions you have!"
	The students hurriedly fell in line behind her as she opened the door and made her way out to the Fairgarland road. They were abuzz with a renewed interest in today's lessons, as the last several had been in the classroom and merely entry level tests pertaining to controlling one's inner flow of mana.
Master Utosh heard many of the students behind her whispering, wondering what kind of spells they'd be learning today, what kind of practical training, were they going to spar with one another and so soon? Some began to boast that they’d already been training and that they would soon be casting spells like Harold Garnalga Babarry or  that new duelist, Galahad Loxley. She let them talk amongst themselves as they traveled, there was no need to stifle their interest by outright telling them they would only be throwing spells at training dummies for today, at least not until they arrived. As they made it to the arena, Master Utosh could already hear spells crashing inside. That was strange, there were no other classes, and no duels were set for today. Someone was merely practicing, she decided before turning to address her students. “Today I expect everyone to follow standard safety procedures, there will be no spells being flung at each other, no spells cast besides the ones instructed to, and by no means will there be any tomfoolery of any sort. Should you break these rules, I will cast a blinding spell on you for the rest of the day. Am I understood?"
	"Yes, Master Utosh," Her class responded immediately, "Good. Now, let's go inside and set up the training dummies."
	As they entered the arena, Yilandra could see who was casting spells across the court. Harold Garnalga Babarry? What was he doing here? He had his own training dummy set up across from him, one of the more advanced ones that was capable of not only dodging, but repelling spells and countering with preset spells of its own. The former champion of Fairgarland cast the familiar bolt spell he had during his duel with Loxley, whipping it behind the head of the dummy before it was reflected back at him. Yilandra and her students watched as he managed to take control of the spell back and fire it straight toward the dummy again, this time at full force. The dummy's ward went up but Harold's spell broke through and shattered the ward and dummy alike, wood splinters and magicked gears scattering across the arena grounds. Yilandra could tell he was not pleased with the results but her students immediately began to clap and cheer for the prince's display. He turned to them and without skipping a beat began to bow as if he had somehow planned this performance for them today.
	"Alright everyone, go retrieve some of the training dummies from the equipment room. One for each of you should do," Yilandra instructed, watching as Harold cast a simple mending spell on the dummy to repair it. When her students had gone she approached the prince.
	"Quite impressive as always, Prince Babarry," She called to him. 
	He shrugged, placing the dummy back on the ground across from him, "It was nothing. These contraptions do nothing for me nowadays…" he sighed, “Perhaps the school could pay for the newer models? I hear they have a changeable skill level and easily surpass this Mark 2K model!”
	"Why not spar with one of the other evocationists?" Yilandra suggested, quickly changing off the topic of budget, "Surely there is at least one who comes close to your level?"
	"Not a one," He replied, "Or at least none that would even accept such an offer. Would you like to be my sparring partner?"
	“Ah,” She laughed nervously, “I may be a master, but my lack of dueling training would not make me a good challenge."
	"You can see my conundrum then," He sighed.
Yilandra thought for a moment before an idea occurred to her, "Perhaps a distraction from your predicament could help clear your mind? Could I ask you to stick around to help? The students look up to you, they would definitely listen with you here.”
	Harold nodded, still thinking of his house and future members, “Of course! I would be delighted to. How about we begin with some fire magic? Gather around, students!” He called as the students laid their practice dummies out.
	“How untrained should I assume these young students of yours are?” He whispered to Yilandra.
“They have learned how to control their mana, but they do not know how to cast evocation magicks,” She explained.
	“Right,” Harold clapped his hands together, “So everyone line up right there. Good. Perfect. Now, outstretch your arms, all of you, palms up.” The students each did as instructed, Harold walking to the first in line before him starting from the right side.
“Now, this may be a simple lesson, one that everyone learns at your age, but do not make light of it. Learning this one lesson will open a new path to your entire lives, it is that important.” He looked at each of their faces before clearing his throat, “What I want you to do is focus on the palm of your hand. If you can control your mana, I want you to gather it up into your hand. Once you have done that, I want you to visualize a flame like that of a candle in your mind's eye. Focus your mana around that flame and push it out of your hand.”
	It took several tries for some students to get a grasp of it while others seemingly knew exactly how to light the fire immediately. Eventually all of them had little candles of their own lit before them, which pleased both Yilandra and Harold, "Excellent work. Now, each of you go to your respective practice dummies and await further instruction. Jason, you're too close to yours, back up by a foot or two. Elise you are too far away, you need to be at least ten paces from your dummy to be effective," Said Yilandra, motioning for Harold to continue once the students were in their positions.
	"Now, aim the palm of your hand at your targets, the dummies, and let loose your mana through that hand." He instructed, "Force it out, but don't tense up. That's it." One after another, each student fired a stream of magic flames at their dummies, some smiling, some frightened, others still were bored, seemingly having already casted this spell. "This spell is called Fire Spray, it is not very focused like other spells but it is simple to pull off, and one of the most basic evocation spells to learn." Harold explained as he circled the students. "Once you get a feel for this spell, master it, learn to use it without thinking, without even feeling the mana leave your fingertips and no other evocation spell is beyond you."
	"Can't we learn some stronger spells?" One of the students groaned.
	Yilandra scowled, "No, Jason, you heard President Harold, you need to master this spell."
	"I've been doing this spell for years! Long before any of the others! Look!" He pointed a finger at the dummie and fired a more concentrated fire spray, carving a silly face onto the dummy's head, much to the delight of the other students who giggled to one another.
	Yilandra looked to Harold, and he could see her desperation. He shook his head and laughed, "Oh, I was young once just like you, Jason, was it? Let me show you what years of practice looks like." He walked over to the young boy and gently moved him aside, preparing himself before the practice dummy. "Watch carefully now," He instructed. Using two fingers he quickly slashed the air, sending a burning blade straight through the mannequin. The spell disappeared as quickly as he had cast it and in the blink of an eye the training dummy was split in two, the top half falling over, it's insides a roaring blaze of fire while the lower half had been completely turned to ash within seconds, much to the amazement of the entire class.
Harold looked to Jason who was completely speechless, "There is always more to learn, even with such a beginner level spell. So always listen to your teachers."

	Classes were soon over and lunch was had, Yilandra had thanked Harold for his help, and the prince had humbly excused himself to let her continue teaching as that was her expertise. He had been so nice, it was a shame what had happened to him during that duel. For now the substitute headmaster was retreating back to her office with some neatly packed halfling food from the cafeteria– a hefty goose leg roasted and peppered with a hint of lemon, some cheddared garlic bread and a baked potato stuffed with just about everything from green onion and butter to sour cream, bacon bits and she swore she could taste manasalts which strangely added to the flavor.
	Just as she sat down at her desk, ready to dig in, a letter swooped in from her window and found its way into the mail basket beside her. "Now what could it be?" She groaned, sliding her food aside to make room for herself. She took the letter out and saw on it Zucarius’ seal. This was definitely important, she knew, and so she wasted no time opening it. From out of the letter came magical streamers and audible kazoos blaring their congratulations, for what Yilandra didn't know. She took the letter from its envelope and looked it over, her sour frown quickly curling up into a giddy smile. 'Professor Xavos Daldomel is returning. From this day forth you are relieved of your emergency duties as substitute headmaster. Thank you so very much for sticking to it, forever grateful, Zacharias Zucarius.'
Inside the card was a small pouch with several coins in it with a month's worth of extra pay inside. Yilandra let out a cheer, nearly flying out of her seat with excitement. She threw the letter up and fell back into her chair, awash with relief. Two long years of pulling double duty finally over. 
	With a grin, she decided a celebratory drink would be in order that night. Maybe she would invite Percy, too.

Chapter 13