Fairgarland was several weeks into winter now, with the temperatures dropping rapidly with the academy being up north. The snow did little to deter students from enjoying their time on campus, however. Students bundled up, carried small magical heaters, or wore magicked cloaks of warmth. Despite this, some students still struggled in the cold. Shanessa, the lamia, was one such student. Her long snake body was covered from her waist to the tip of the tail by a very large and long form-fitting wool sock. Even that wasn’t enough to keep the cold-blooded woman from shivering constantly. She had placed a large obelisk outside of the Seeker’s House. The large, onyx colored pillar had a white marble base and let off more than enough heat in a small area to keep her from freezing in the frigid air. The snow around the monolith had melted, the warmth coming directly from the Onyx Sands. Shanessa enjoyed her time outside on a Friday afternoon, lounging in a chair with a cup of tea in hand. A few other members of the house read books and studied for their classes, “You need to perform those hand signs and then use the salts and twigs while you chant,” Shanessa explained to a student that sat nearby. 
	“I see…” The student scratched their head with their wand and changed the script they had written down. 
	A few others asked Shanessa for guidance in their studies and she happily gave it. Her expertise was in necromancy, focusing on healing magic, but she had knowledge in many other schools, even those she had given up. Many younger students that had been in her house in prior years greeted her warmly, “Shanessa!” A goblin hurried up the path to her, “Good afternoon!” Rald smiled.
	“Oh, hello, Rald. Good afternoon,” Shanessa smiled. A few others trudged up the path behind the goblin. Her brother, Blud, the sectare sorceress Reccoa, the president of transmutation Manus, and her council members Galahad and Fredrik, “Done with one club and heading to another?”
	“Of course. We finished up The Iliad this week and we’re deciding what to move onto now,” The goblin explained, “I’ll probably just let Manus figure it out. Did you ever finish your reading on your own, Galahad? You didn’t make it to book club this week,” The duelist nodded slowly.
	“Still sick?” Shanessa frowned, “Are you sure you can handle your club, Galahad?”
	“I can,” His voice was hoarse, “Just a little… low on mana.”
	“More than a little,” Rald shook her head, “I’ll catch up with you guys, I haven’t talked to my old mentor in a while.”
	“Old?” Shanessa teased, “My, Rald, I believed you thought better of me!”
	“That’s not what I meant!”
	Miss Manus smiled, “Take your time, Rald.”
	With a few nods and waves, the group moved on to the gym. Shanessa watched them go and quickly leaned into the goblin, “So, you and Sean?” She giddily gossiped in a hushed tone.
	Rald smiled, “Not really official or anything, I’m not changing the status of it online yet. But, the man is wonderful!” She giggled back. 
	“You know, him and I were a fling for a while, I think he has a thing for abhumans. Sorry, demi-humans. I never saw him with another human, to be honest,” The snake woman grinned, “He has good taste, to be honest.”
	“Definitely. He treats me like a princess too,” The goblin bragged, “I barely know how to pay him back, I think he just enjoys the company where he can throw off his princely and presidential personality for a time. Just a real gentleman.”
	“Think you’ll make it official?”
	“Oh, when he’s ready of course. I’ll try not to be too disappointed if it doesn’t work out. Anyway, how was your vacation?” Rald ceased the hushed chatter.
	Shanessa calmed down a bit, “Well, I spent time on campus making sure none of those left here were too lonely. Put together a secret Santa exchange for them and everything. We had some lovely dinners. It was a much needed change of pace after the whole… Butcher fiasco. I still can’t believe you got involved in that.”
	“Same here,” She sighed, “I’m just glad I brought some strong wizards together to deal with it. To be honest, I said in interviews that I didn’t get Galahad but he showed up anyway. I have no idea how. HE refuses to explain himself. All he says is he was ‘tipped off.’ Dude is so weird.”
	“I am just glad that he did arrive. And yes, he is quite strange. I am just glad he is a great student,” Shanessa admitted, “How was your break?”
	The goblin smiled, “I was surrounded by family, thankfully. We had a great Christmas morning and didn’t really do anything for New Years,” She shrugged, “But it was nice. What about classes?”
	“Oh, I am still just working through necromancy mastery classes, I unfortunately have to take a class on raising the dead, and one on astrology, and I might end up dropping my botany class. These high level ones are very tough.”
	“Ugh, I hope you don't. I'll need your help when I take those classes,” Rald frowned, “I’m doing the same thing. Some low level necromancy healing classes, one on evocational healing as well just in case, and that botany class. I’m getting on in my thaumaturgy studies. I’m… gonna be sad when I’m done, honestly. I’ve had a great time here despite the big issues that have been going on.”
	“Ah, you are still quite studious, Rald. I’m very happy for you,” Shanessa grinned, “Do not let me keep you any longer, dear Rald. You have a club to get to, right?”
	“Eh,” She frowned, “Yeah. Gotta make sure my blockhead brother doesn’t get hurt. Galahad gave him a damn firearm.”
	“What!?” 
	“Yeah, like one of those spell slinging ones,” She sighed, “I guess it's not as bad as a real old world gun. I’m still just worried.”
	“Well, you had better catch up to them,” Shanessa urged, “I will speak to you later, friend. Check in once in a while this term, I miss you all a lot.”
	“Okay, I will, Shanessa. See ya!” Rald hurried down the path to the stadium. The snake woman sighed and stared at her now empty cup, only left to wonder if she should have allowed students in her house to join the dueling club.

. . . . .

	Students stood on the now snowy floor of the arena, each one eager to learn today’s lessons. Miss Manus watched as Galahad leaned heavily on his staff. He eyed his club members from behind his hood and scarf. The man coughed as the students began to take their heavier and warmer clothes off and place them on the benches nearby. Galahad bit the nail on his thumb as he glanced at his class. Blud was already showing off his new casting implement to the now nervous club. The goblin had traded in his red conical hat for a white ten gallon hat. He spun the firearm on a finger and pointed it in the air, “I’m so ready for today.”
	“Yee haw,” Someone chuckled.
	“Ya gonna finally beat someone, Blud?” 
	“The little cowboy needs a pony! Don’t we have a conjurer?”
	“Alright, fellas. Hold yer horses,” Blud flipped a bullet in the air, opened the chamber of his weapon, and caught the bullet in it, “Who wants some first?”
	Galahad shook his head, “Get in pairs,” He grunted, “Similar skills.”
	Everyone knew who to pair up with. Reccoa was with Blud. The sectare stared at the weapon, “Feel stronger?”
	“You don’t know power ‘till you use one of these,” He cackled, “Come on, we should start.”
	The rest of the class stood on the sidelines as they saw Blud and Reccoa move to one of the lined out areas. Everyone was curious to see how the weapon worked. Galahad sighed and stood at the side of their lined out arena, “Give it your all,” He wheezed, “But you’re not killing each other. Please. I will stop you if things get out of hand.”
	“I didn’t think you could speak that much!” Blud laughed.
	“I… Can’t,” His voice was weak and dry. His throat was killing him with how parched he felt after just a few sentences. He drank from a flask, and raised his hand as a signal for the two to get ready. Blud prepared a bullet and shoved it home in the chamber of his gun. Reccoa enraged herself and prepared her first attack, her crystals encircling her hand. 
	Galahad mustered enough strength to chop the air, starting the match. Reccoa reared back, building up a bit of flame to throw the goblin’s way. Blud drew his gun and let loose with his first round. BANG! The sound painfully reverberated off of the walls as a line of orange magic flew from the barrel. It was too fast for the sectare to avoid, taking the stunning hit to gut. Blud flicked the lever, opening the chamber, and flicking it on its side to dump out the steaming round. He grabbed another from his pocket and began to enchant it. Reccoa was doubled over, the rage was still there, but the spell she was preparing had quickly fizzled. 
	“Reccoa!” Blud called as he loaded in a second round, “Do you need a break? Was that too strong?”
	“NO!” She bellowed, her anger growing with her pain. The sectare called forth her inner flames and wreathed her arms in bright orange magic. The flames spun and roiled as she built up her power. Blud leveled his weapon and hesitated for a moment, realizing the spell the sectare was throwing at him. He drew his wand with his other hand and prepared a rectangular barrier. Reccoa’s fire was unleashed in an impressive display, a wave of flames galloping along the floor towards Blud. The goblin ducked down and evaded the flames behind his barrier, hiding under his enchanted cloak. When fires passed over him, he patted himself down finding that it had luckily only singed his wool cloak. Reccoa panted, a little worried with how much power she put behind her spell. Blud popped up, his cowboy hat falling off as he drew his gun and let off a shot. Reccoa did her best to block it, waving a flame barrier across herself. While it dulled the impact, it still hit her hard in the shoulder, knocking her back on her heels. 
	“Blaa-aad!” She growled the goblin’s name, a deep, burning fury in her chest. The look in her eyes terrified Blud and he fumbled with the next round, attempting to get the last one out while still holding the new one. Reccoa rushed him, closing the distance between the two in half seconds. Blud dropped the round and readied himself. Her attack came out quickly, a flaming blade coming down at him. The goblin rolled to the side, narrowly dodging her fierce attack. She went for another, but he managed to duck under it, pulling out another of his rounds and quickly sliding it into the chamber. With the gun cocked and leveled, he fired in a panic, not bothering to aim. The paralysis spell struck Reccoa, making her fall as her body contorted painfully. Galahad moved to her side as quickly as he could and helped remove the paralysis. 
	“Blud,” Galahad helped Reccoa to her feet and nodded to the goblin.
	“Y-yeah?” He shrank, feeling like he was in trouble from the dry tone Lox used.
	The man nodded, “Good job. Rest, Reccoa,” He ordered.
	“No!” The sectare smoldered, nearly filling the arena with smoke. Fire came back to her hands, another spell was being charged up.
	Galahad was much faster, despite his injuries. He countered the spell with one hand, grabbed Reccoa’s wrist with the other, yanked her into himself, and body checked her. The wind was knocked out of her and she fell to her back onto the soft, powdery snow, “Attacking after you already lost?” Galahad gave her the glare like a father would a misbehaving child, “I am so disappointed in you. You’re barred from sparring for the day. Leave my club. Now.”
	The sectared scrambled to her feet, snatching up her scarf and running from the arena. She went for the door, looking back at Blud and Galahad. The goblin thought he saw tears in her eyes. She threw the door open, slamming it into the stopper with a loud bang and quickly fled out into the cold snowy day.
	Galahad turned and saw Manus with a hand over her mouth and a class full of shocked students. He hoped it wasn’t at him. Blud fidgeted with the three rounds he had used, “Did I do something wrong?” He wondered, his ears drooping low. 
	“No,” Galahad grunted, “Let her cool down.”
	“But–”
	“Sit,” The duelist nudged the goblin with his staff and nodded. Blud sighed sadly and found somewhere to sit in the bleachers, his will to duel spoiled by guilt. He had won his first duel but instead of triumphant he felt utterly deflated. Galahad cleared his throat and drank again from a flask. He went into a coughing fit as he waved a few more pairs out onto the field. The students were roused from their shock and did as instructed, taking positions across from one another on the small drawn out arenas. All of them looked to their instructor for the signal to start. Galahad scanned them, walking to each student and prodding them with the butt of his staff to push them into the correct combat stances, “Spread the legs,” Galahad grunted to one, “Hands up. Rotate yourself a little, make yourself a smaller target” He instructed a few, “Eyes up. Don’t look at the others, look right at Jeremy there. Don’t act all meek and shy, this is a duel.”
	He raised his hand, prompting each wizard to begin casting their starting spell. He looked back over his shoulder to see Manus give him a tiny smile. He returned it the best he could and brought his hand down, instructing them to begin.	

. . . . .

	"By the Pillars I need a break," Angerdese moaned, her face down on one of the tables in the Karak'Albrac main hall, a miniature model airship of her own design next to her. She was struggling to get the tiny engines working.
	"What has you belly aching now?" Asked Holmit who sat across from her. He was fiddling with a mechanical contraption, pulling it open to show its many small and intricate brass tubes before he cast a spell to redirect them and transform them. He attempted closing it and activating the device only for it to sputter out and fail.
	"I almost got locked out of Mister Corvelli's class today," Angerdese groaned, "I just made it in as he shut the door behind me."
	“At least you didn’t have to cast that awful stone step spell to get in,” Holmit shuddered, “I hate the slow way a person’s body is shunted through the door when they use it.”
	“Oh, I’ve gotta learn that one, Holmit! That’s transmutation, right?”
	“Aye… Don’t be surprised if the professor just teleports you out of the room when you’re late, though,” He chuckled, “Good times in Professor M’Grole’s class. The explosions in his transmutation class were a bit too extreme for these old bones.”
	The two laughed for a moment before silence filled the room. Holmit kept fiddling with the contraption while Angerdese stared at him. After some thought, she put her own project aside. Finally she broke the silence.
	“Holmit?” Angerdese asked softly, “Ya’re not the graybeard I’d expect to be workin’ as a wizard.”
	He gave her a look before starting his tinkering again, “Where in the hell is yar mind wandering, lass?”
	“I mean,” She scratched her head, “Most of the dwarves that I’ve seen here are graybeards or young greenbeards like me. What brought you here at this middling age in your life? Most dwarves yar age are set in stone what they want to be!”
	“Oh, ya don’t want to know that,” He grumbled softly.
	Angerdese leaned over the table, “Come on, Master Drak-Hide. Dwarf to dwarf? Ya’re from a smaller hold, right?”
	“Aye, I am. What’s that got to do with it?”
	“Well, I know yar hold doesn’t have a court wizard. Hasn’t since the old world,” She pointed out.
“And how do ya know that?” He wondered half-heartedly, having already guessed the answer.
“I like to know a little bit of everything about every dwarf I know," She replied, “So what’s yar deal?”
	“Seems to me you already figured it out,” He grumbled, “Yer right, we don’t have a court wizard. I mean to be him.”
	“I knew it!” She clenched her hands and smiled, “See? Wasn’t that hard. I know us clan dwarves are a little reserved, but ya can talk to another dwarf, eh, Master Drak-Hide?”
	“That’s only half of the story,” He admitted, his eyes glancing around the main hall for any ears that might be listening. When he was satisfied that no one was around he leaned in closer to his kin, “It’s for a lass.”
	Angerdese’s eyes grew wide and sparkled in the light, “No way… Really? A lass? Oh, she must be the most beautiful lass in any keep to go that far for her!”
Holmit reached into his pocket and procured a small locket, opening it to reveal a photo, “Aye. Here’s her in an old ad when they started selling her father’s ale worldwide.”
	The dwarf snatched the offered picture and gazed upon the locket. It depicted a blonde-haired dwarven woman lounging on the beach in a black one piece swimsuit with golden runes on the chest near her neck. Her face was covered in freckles that drew one's gaze to her emerald eyes and she had a cute smile that accentuated her rosy red cheeks. Her golden locks were done in elaborate braids decorated with green and white gemstones that curled and gently rested over her bosom. One arm propped her up and the other held a dark bottle full of mushroom ale that she offered whoever was looking, “She’s so pretty!” 
	“She’s practically royalty too,” Holmit added proudly.
	“NO WAY!” Angerdese yelped before the older dwarf snatched the locket back and hid it away. 
“Pipe down, ye blown out bagpipe, I don’t need the whole house askin’ ya questions,” He shushed her.
“I don’t get it, Master Drak-Hide, why keep it a secret?”
	“Ah, the beardless fools wouldn’t get it. The feelings we have. They would hear ‘royalty’ and think me some kind of power grabber after her gold, hm? Nay, my relationship with her goes back to when I was a beardling– no, earlier than that. I was sweet on this girl for a long time. A real long time. Friends forever too. Her father, Galmek Drak-Barrig, was one of the best brewers, cigar makers, and even goldsmiths, in the Drak clans. He was the first to find a perfect kind of mushroom in this world for brewing and another for cigars. It was as if old world fungus had bred with ones from this world. They both–” He stopped and sighed, “Sorry, I doubt ya care about mushroom cultivation. Anyways, when we came of age, me an’ Beyel’nn I mean, her old man was gettin’ real wealthy. Other clans, halflings and even humans were importing his brew. He had mushroom liquor, ale, and even wine. The old man had so many customers from around the world he had more money than he knew what to do with. So he bought a lotta land and a title. He was nobility now, royal brewer and jeweler. Ya see, the Drak clan is small but wealthy. We have some of the best liquor already with safe guarded recipes an’ all!”
	Angerdese nodded, “Now ya were a commoner and she was royalty?”
	“Aye– well kinda,” The dwarf sipped his liquor, “But ya’ve got the right of it. I missed my chance. Her father didn’t want just anyone for his little girl. Her husband’s gotta be someone just as powerful or wealthy as his family. See, she was the face of the Drak-Barrig brand now. A real regal, beautiful lady. While we did still see one another behind her father’s back, we both knew we couldn’t be together. But I made her a promise. I’d return in fifteen years and work my way up to royal wizard with a degree from the most prestigious magical university. The Drak clans haven’t had one in a real long time. He’d have to let me marry her then. I’d be rich, powerful– both politically and magically, and with the most wonderful beard he’d ever seen.”
	“She’s gonna wait for you to return? Pushing away other suitors and everything?” The lass inquired, “I don’t know anything about noble dwarven courting rituals, is this unusual?”
	“While she is being courted, none will take her hand. Her father turns down many suitors on his own, those that are allowed to speak to Beyel’nn usually get turned down for her own reasons. Generally she does this by giving them some kinda task to complete in a short time. Nearly impossible ones. A chalice full of water from the fountain of youth, an imp’s tears, the smoke of a dragon’s fire…” He trailed off, unable to think of other examples, “Goblin… nose hair, I think?” He chuckled, “As if a goblin could grow nose hair.”
	“I see, I see,” Angerdese nodded, “Thank ya fer sharing. I kinda wish ya’d have told me sooner,” She chuckled and returned to tinkering with her ship model.
	“Aye… Well… I didn’t know if you were another lass who had gone sweet on me,” He chuckled back and returned to working on his project, “What about you? Why are ya working on yar wizardry?”
	“To get away from home, Master Drak-Hide,” She said somberly, “Home isn’t in the best state. My parents sent me here to find a better life. I really only plan on getting a general degree, maybe a little more,” She explained, “I’m jealous ya’ve got someone waiting for ya back home.”
	“Aye… Sorry lass. Do ya have a plan for later?”
	“Well… Maybe I’ll become yar assistant, Master Wizard Drak-Hide,” Angerdese beamed at her upperclassmen, “Ya’ll need one to sort yar affairs and all.”
	Holmit chuckled, “Aye. I suppose I will. Impress me, and I’ll be sure to hire ya.”
	“Of course! Ya know I can!” She grinned and got back to work.
	Holmit smiled softly, already imagining what it might be like. He gave his contraption one last adjustment and closed it up.

. . . . .
	
	Sean knocked on the door of Fritz’Eleo’s dorm. It was getting late, and the abjurationist was running out of daylight. It was his last visit of the night, a golden and tall wrapped gift rested under one arm. The door was opened by Dottathum, the dwarven woman on Harold’s council, “Ah, Sean. Here to visit our illustrious president?” She asked sarcastically. 
	The president smiled, “I am. Is he home?”
	“Yes, he is,” The dwarf pulled the door open and let him in. The dorm for the evocationists was bigger than any of the other houses. Desks, tables, and shelves along the walls. There was just more of it all than the other houses. They needed it, too. Most every table and desk was in use as students worked in groups to figure out the new spells they were learning, a reminder to Sean that there were more evocationists in Fairgarland than most other schools of magic, “Come on,” Dottathum beckoned Sean. The two went upstairs where more books lined the walls and a few couches sat in front of a trio of TVs, each one in a different third of the room and protected by a barrier that kept you from hearing the other two TVs. The dwarven woman opened the door to the private dorms. It was like the inside of a hotel, complete with a receptionist who was most likely just an illusion.
	“Welcome, Dottathum,” She bowed. She wore a red and white pinstriped vest over a black button up. She was pretty, but her face was a little off, like it was flat from specific angles, “Headed to your room?” She offered a key on a chain.
	“No, Harold’s room. Password: Honey flows where Babarry Goes.”
	“Ah,” The attendant handed over a plastic card, “Take the elevator to the top as usual, Miss Dottathum.”
	“Mh,” The dwarf moved on, stepping out of the tiled lobby and into an elevator with a crimson carpet and mirrored walls. Sean ran his fingers through his hair to slick it back into place, “When are you going to force him out?” The woman asked as she slid the card. There were eleven floors, with the top being the penthouse where Harold resided. She pressed the button and the doors slid close.
	“He is performing his duties still. I know he is delegating the petitioning of professors to his underclassmen, but everything that is needed for your house has been getting done. It is not that he doesn’t care…” Sean sighed, “Don’t tell him I said this, but he is so much like a goblin or fey, even, he just gets obsessive is all,” Dotti couldn’t contain her giggle fit at the idea. The elevator rumbled as it rose to the top past floors lined with rooms leading to the private dorms of each student, “Think about it. Remember Float Pencherkneckle? That little green guy was obsessed with cryomancy. He nearly got a masters in just ice magic. Harold is the same, but said obsession changes. It was Sophia for a time, then he got really into dueling, then fashion, there was that halfling he was courting, then Manus, and now…” He trailed off as the elevator dinged. 
	The two stepped into a small lobby in front of Harold’s door. Dottithum rapped on the door, “Visitor, Mister Babarry!” There was shuffling beyond the door, “I think you might be right, Sean. I just… wish I felt like he put us first.”
	“I understand. Perhaps I will bring it up in our chat,” Sean smiled. 
	The door opened to reveal Harold in a crimson blazer with a white undershirt. The symbol of his family was embroidered over his heart, “Ah, Sean. For what do I owe the pleasure? Sorry for the informal attire, I have been hard at work today.”
	“Not a worry,” Sean offered the present under his arm to the man, “I simply finally have your little Christmas gift. It took a time to get here.”
	Harold took it with a raised brow, “Enter, friend. Is there anything else Miss Azum-Barowitz?”
	She grinned while imagining Harold as a little, pathetic, and cowardly goblin, “Nothing at all. See you in the morning.”
	Sean entered Harold's room after nodding in thanks to the dwarf. The evocationist was quick to tear into the golden packaging, revealing the contents within, “Oh, my friend. You shouldn’t have!” He held up the bottle of deep amber colored wine. His finger traced over the elven characters, Silvensong wine, some of the best the elves had to offer, “This is wonderful. Thank you.”
	“Yes, you’re welcome,” Sean smiled, “How are you feeling? Still inflicted with that illness?”
	“No, the best healers on campus have mended my wounds. They still are not sure what the cause was, I simply blame it on the Butcher’s evil magic,” Harold shrugged as he sipped on champagne.
	“Wonderful. I am… glad to hear… it,” Sean’s eyes had shifted to the three corkboards. The Galahad mystery was still on Harold’s mind, obviously. Arthur Maxamillion and Nambra Faith were both very prominent on the research boards now, "Still convinced you know who Galahad is?"
	"I am," Answered the prince.
 	“If I did not know better, I would say you were going to try courting the young man next!”
	Harold rolled his eyes, "Oh, please. I'll have you know I'm giving up on the whole thing."
	"Really?" Sean was in disbelief, "So soon after you had just come to the conclusion? What about the big reveal?"
	"I shan't be pursuing it any further. I had a good talk with my grandfather over Christmas and I have decided that I do not wish to disturb Loxley with incessant questioning. We ARE friends now, after all."
	"So you are courting him," Sean prodded the prince again.
	"Would you leave off?" Harold grumbled.
	"Alright, alright. Does Galahad know you're friends?"
	"That… could pose a problem. I had not extended my hand in friendship yet, and I do plan on apologizing to him for how I have acted in the past, but…"
	"But…?" Sean echoed.
	Harold turned away from his friend to look at the corkboards, "I know not the words for it… how do I ask forgiveness for causing such hardships?"
	"Hey, Loxley, it's me, Harold, sorry for all the trouble I caused you," Sean did his best impression of the prince, which did not amuse him. 
	Still, with a sigh he nodded and turned back to Sean, "Perhaps it really is that simple. I should apologize to him and Miss Manus."
	"Why her? What have you done to her lately?" Asked Sean.
	"Nothing really, and I plan to keep it that way. I will pursue her no further as well. I will leave her in Loxley's capable hands."
	"You're giving up everything like that, huh? Has something happened?" The abjurationist asked, folding his arms across his chest. 
	"She does not like me, Sean. I cannot make her like me, and that is simply the end of it. I shall look for love elsewhere to further my lineage."
	"Maybe you could go back to that halfling woman, what was her name?"
	"Ahh. Alice Redarbor. She was the sweetest woman a man could ask for, and the finest chef among all the halflings. Alas, my family ruined any hopes of that life with their wicked thoughts and sharp tongues. She was never meant for House Babarry."
	"Still, I wonder what she's up to now." Sean sighed, "You two were quite the pair."
	"We were. I hope that life for her has treated her well, at least."
	"What of Sophia?"
	Harold scoffed, "That old flame? She's got a wild side to her like her mother. No, I couldn't tame her and neither could that golden wonder from Karak-Albrac. Why are you so interested in who I court suddenly? Are you up to something?" 
	“Just… You seem unlike yourself when not chasing after some new flame or prize,” Sean quickly explained.
	Harold looked confused for a few moments before smiling and chuckling, “I will find a new focus. For now, I will work on my studies.”
	“AND your house?”
	The prince thought for a moment, “Of course. There is always much to do.”
	“Why don’t you step down, Harold? You have seemed distracted from your duties recently,” Sean asked.
	“And let my house members take the fall for my recent failures? No. I will ride it out until they are placated,” He decreed, “I will continue to do all I can at the top rather than have to sit at the sidelines and watch another flounder in my stead. Maybe when everything is said and done I can do that, but for now I will remain president.”
	"What is there to do? And how do you plan to fix it?"
	"Well, for one I will look for another house to offer a trade in times, perhaps the necromancers could use some night time labs. Another thing I am considering is commissioning as many transmutationists as I can to make lab equipment similar to Fairgarland's."
	"That's an awfully expensive idea."
	"Very. Though not nearly as expensive as commissioning your house for a sizeable pocket realm, potentially for every House in Fairgarland."
Sean coughed, completely caught off guard, "You what?! Do you have any idea how much that will cost? Do you even have that kind of money?"
	"I will. Somehow.”
	Sean raised his eyebrows, “Well, you may need an entire dragon’s horde worth of gold for this, Harold.”
	“If I can at least get one or two more labs in pocket realms made, that would help every house,” Harold declared, “This is my plan. Perhaps a fundraiser over the summer is a good idea,” He frowned for just a moment, “I will figure something out.”
	“Well, alright. Let me know if I can help at all, Harold,” Sean gave a tiny bow, “Good night, friend.”
	“Good night.”
	Harold went to his window as he heard his friend shut the door. He poured himself another glass of champagne and sighed deeply. He truly was unsure where to get the money. He had time at least, another three years here at Fairgarland to figure it out.

. . . . .

	Dusk had cast its purple and orange glow across the campus grounds many hours ago. It was late at night, too late for anyone to be scouring the tall shelves of Fairgarland’s library. The bottom floor was full of clean tables and vacant chairs and the cafe was empty. The second floor where meetings took place had also been vacated. On the highest floor with dusty old tomes and books that had not been opened in decades, Reccoa looked through the literature and scrolls for the solution to her problem: how to obtain power. She grabbed a book on sorcery and pulled it open, sneezing as she inhaled the ancient particles. After skimming through it for a few moments she scowled and put it away at random, “Nothing good,” She hissed and looked for another.
	“Reccoa, please,” The beetle familiar on her shoulder begged telepathically, “It is late. You must rest. May we return to your zen garden? A nice long session of raking sand will calm your nerves.”
	The sectare’s skin smelled of coal as it smoked, “No, Hiirogami, I need more power. Why can wizards become powerful? Why am I to be left in the dust while they learn new spells, hone their craft, and get stronger and stronger. Even Blaad is beating me. Little goblin boy, Blaad. Weak little Blaad gets an item from his friend and now he can beat me.”
	“Would you say that to his face, Miss Reccoa?” The beetle companion scolded, “Would you call him that with him around?”
	Reccoa slid down to the floor and laid on the dusty carpet, “No… I would not. Blaad would cry if I was too mean to him.”
	“Then why are you talking like this?” Hiirogami shook its horned head.
	“Frustration. I am angry. I have not attained anything I wanted to here. You remember, I am sure,” Reccoa scanned the books at the bottom of the shelves, picking up a few and trying to read their contents. It wasn’t that she couldn’t read, but nothing was jumping out at her at all. In her frustration she threw one of the books and kicked her feet. 
	“Did you ever have goals? I laid out what you needed to do. Learn control, learn other scholarly pursuits, and try to make friends,” The beetle replied.
	“No. No, that is not what I want. You are my guide, yes. But–” A thump made Reccoa jump. A bit of flame appeared on her body but fell away as she looked toward the noise. 
	“See? You are going to burn this library down!” Hiirogami sighed, “Let us leave, please.”
	Reccoa saw an old tome on the floor, the source of the noise with dust particles filling the air around it. She took the tome in her hands; it was even more dusty than the others. On one side, it was particularly caked on, “It must have been on top of this,” She looked up, the shelf was nearly ten feet tall. It was definitely possible her rolling around had shaken it loose. She looked at the spine. The book was so old and unnoticed that it lacked the plastic sticker that labeled an author and its dewey decimal number. She opened up the book to the back cover where a rune should be. The rune had been rubbed off, leaving it unable to be tracked by the library staff. The sectare looked back and forth down the dim aisle before slipping the very large book into her bag, “Fate,” She whispered in English.
	“Reccoa!” Hiirogami hissed in her mind, “What are you doing!? You are not a common thief!”
	“I am checking it out!” She fibbed. She could feel the power radiating from the old, dusty tome, “I simply need some free hands,” She picked up another book from the shelf, one she had glanced at earlier, “I will check both of these out, Hiirogami.”
	The beetle familiar seemed to sigh at his ward, “May we retire? I am quite drowsy now,” The beetle rested on her shoulder, gripping onto her cloak as it attempted to sleep.
	“Of course. I am satisfied. You may rest. I must check this book out and return,” Like the sectare said, she took the book in hand and returned to the first floor, the lights on the second and third floors shutting off automatically. An orb of swirling, green colored dust floated over the checkout desk. Reccoa brought out her school card and tapped it on the orb. The green dust turned blue as it continued to swirl. She then took the second book on sorcery and tapped the ward on the back of it. The orb flashed. The book was now checked out to her. Reccoa poked at her guardian, only to find it sleeping. Just to be safe, she did the same with the other book, but the orb did not light up at its touch. She smiled and quickly left the library.
	She put her scarf on and hurried to House Faith’s tower where she quickly opened the door and stepped into the main room. The first floor smelled of incense, though the sticks had stopped smoldering hours ago. Bean bag chairs, a few communal tables, and a big couch were all set about the room. On one side, behind the stairs to the second floor had a lot of supplies for art. Upstairs had lounge chairs and a TV that was currently off. No one was awake, at least not one that was out here. Photos covered the walls of current and previous members of the sparsely used house. Reccoa gripped the handle of the door upstairs. It buzzed for just a moment before the sound of a deadbolt unlocking rang out. Reccoa pulled the handle up and then out before stepping into her private dorm. She sighed and locked the door behind her.
	Reccoa’s room was very cluttered. A sliding closet dominated one side and had numerous posters taped to it, most were of comic book characters. The far wall had two doorways, one led to a smaller room with a zen garden. It had flat stones around the outside acting as a pathway around it. There were two large stones amongst the well-raked sand. The other door led to a private bathroom where a small collection of bonsai trees lived in the bathtub. By the door to the dorm, Reccoa had an acoustic guitar on a stand that had been played less than four times. Next to it was a small chest on a little stand filled with wind instruments. Wall scrolls of art from her homeland hung up on the walls next to the magicked window. The floor was currently covered in a bamboo floor mat, and a low table sat in the center of the room with sitting pillows placed around it. A small stove and mini fridge sat in the corner with a rolled up futon next to it. The sectare moved her calligraphy set to the table, laid out the futon and pulled the comforter down from the window. She sighed and sat cross legged as she disrobed. 
	“Reccoa,” Hiirogami nestled into a small box cushioned with a few rags, “You did well today. You are coming along well in your studies. Perhaps you will be done at Fairgarland soon?”
	“I-I don’t know,” The sectare drew the shades over her window, “Where will I go?”
	The beetle snuggled into its bed, “Ah. A question for you to answer on your own. For now, rest.”
	“Yes. Good night,” Reccoa pulled the cover over her head like every night. She stared at the darkness that lingered beneath the blanket and wondered to herself for a time. What was she to do when Fairgarland decided she was trained enough to handle her magic? She couldn’t think of an answer to her own question before sleep took hold of her. The only thing on her mind was that book she had found. She paused, listening for the movement of her guardian. She heard nothing but the simulated wind from her magicked window. Reccoa reached across the floor, dragged her bag to herself and removed the mystery book she had found. The power within pulsated in her hands as she wiped the dust off of the book. She pulled the covers back over her head and cast a tiny light. The pages were pulled open, the vellum inside had its dust fall off to reveal the black and red inked words within. Reccoa squinted, just staring at the text made her eyes hurt, but once she blinked, the pain ended. To her surprise and absolute delight, the text was all in Japanese kanji. She grinned, turned to the start and began reading, excited to see what power awaited her.

Chapter 22