"Just how stupid are you?" He ignored the words of the girl who leered over him. he was too focused on the book in front of him. 'Murder of Mages. Written by Grog the Mage Killer.' Ironically in the biography section of the book, Grog had brutally had his flesh melted off his bones during one of his 'hunts'. Still, it was the first book on how to defeat a mage that he could find in the library's catalogue. He would never want to go through that again. As it would turn out the largest library he had ever seen also had the largest catalogue which was a nightmare to go through. This would be his only resource for his duel later today as it seemed that books on how to kill mages were nonexistent. He wasn't sure if that was because books on how to kill mages seemed to be one of those things that 'mysteriously disappeared' or because it was impossible. Master Ossege was a knight who supposedly fought dark mages, it must have been possible to kill if you threw enough bodies and arrows. However, even as a servant the boy knew the rules of mages. The Golden Order was separate from kingdoms and was banned it participating in wars and kingdom disputes.

The boy covered his head with a pillow and screamed in it, he was no army or even a knight. He'd probably be burned, frozen or had all his bones broken before he could even land a single hit.

"Today, you have till sundown to become a mage capable of winning a fight against another, tell me again? How many spells do you have? Cause last time I remember it was zero." The girl who he had met in the library sat next to him. They" were currently in the healing ward with Clarisa who was going through a physiatric checklist. The whole thing started off as a joke when the nameless girl from the library found out about the duel challenge yesterday, she dragged him by the collar to Clarisa as she thought he must have been brain-damaged. He had been quite vocal in his annoyance throughout the experience.

"I'm aware of the situation."

"You say that. Yet I don't think you do, what are you going to do when a fireball is hurtled towards you? Normally I would think a person would avoid it yet you seemed to be thrilled about the idea of killing yourself."

"I will admit the idea is starting to seem more pleasant." He glared at the girl who met his eyes with her own. He knew how screwed he was, the last thing he needed was to be continuously reminded about his idiocy. "And what pray tell would have you done? I wasn't exactly in a position of power. She was right, they wouldn't give Chelsea to a novice who had no money or education."

"So fight it! Make her wait the month and piss her off as much as you can. Who cares if she gets the child? Your first priority should be you, not some child you could just make again. At least my way, you wouldn't die and this child that you apparently care about so much would get home and wealth along with a master which is a lot more than what most novices get. Literally, everyone wins in that situation."

"Chelsea is my responsibility, I can give her wealth and education. Some of us aren't as selfish as to only care about themselves, you might be your first priority but I'll be damned if my child isn't mine."

"Oh get off your high horse. If she really was your first priority then you'd let her live with whoever this Redkin person is. The only reason you are doing this suicidal fight is for you. Cause you are selfish. You are the one who wants the child, you are the one who is willing to take away her future and you are the one who can't just swallow their pride." The boy couldn't respond. How dare she? He was going to probably suffer from a range of magical injuries for a child that wasn't even his despite what he claimed. He had been nothing but selfless. She had no evidence that the Redkin could care for a child. So far all mages have been soulless bastards and he'd be damned if he let Chelsea grow up the same.

"Get out." His voice was quiet barely a whisper, but she had heard it. He knew she did by the hurt in her eyes. No, it wasn't hurt, he didn't think he was capable of hurting mages' feelings when in the eyes of all of them he was some outsider.

"Excuse me?" She asked, her eyes seemed to flicker with anger. He didn't care, or he had been fed up with how every mage treated him. Squeezing the blanket that covered him he took a few breathes to steady himself for another argument.

"I want you out, now." He had expected her to scream, argue or maybe light him on fire on the spot. She didn't, she didn't do anything for a few moments only looking at him with what he thought was a mixture of disgust and hatred. She had opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

"Fine, die for all I care." Words finally managed to escape her mouth, she couldn't even look at him. Before the boy could hiss back an insult of his own the girl had stood up off the bed that he laid on storming out of the healing ward.

He didn't know why she was so hurt.

"She's got a point you know." The apprentice healer said. Of course, she wanted to give her opinion now that all the shouting and fighting had been finished with. "The best-case scenario would have been if you just let Chelsea go." The boy scowled at the healer. Did she just not see the previous fight about the exact same topic? They didn't understand, Chelsea was his responsibility, the only thing he had left. If he lost her he would quite literally be alone. Was it really selfish? Maybe... but he would stand by his decision. He had dug his grave and he would lie in it.

Though Clarisa was something of the anomaly of mages along with Zerin. They were the only ones who used Chelsea's name, a recognition of identity, of her name. Racheal, the nameless girl from the library and even the older healer had always referred to Chelsea as the child. A quiet insult as if to say they don't recognise the name she was given, if they used her name then they recognised that she had a life that started outside of the academy, that she wasn't theirs to give.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Perhaps, I haven't had a child of my own, but is it really worth throwing your life away? You might be old coming into the academy but you'll still have a chance at learning magic. Even the worst mages are well off, kingdoms are willing to pay a lot of money for magical help."

"I am prepared to die." He didn't hesitate to say it. He saw Clarisa's eyes widen at the sudden response. He wasn't lying or being overdramatic, it was just that if he died nothing would change. If he died Chelsea would get that amazing life that everyone had been telling him to follow, if he lived he would live a life of being a mage. The idea of commanding nature at his fingertips was such a novel idea back when he was a servant. "How do you kill a mage? You're a healer, there must be a way regular folk can kill mages." He didn't think she would tell him. Why would she? She was against this whole duel thing, he wouldn't be surprised if the healer was thinking of a way to trick him into surrendering. Clarisa though to her merit took a few seconds before opening her mouth.

"I do not condone magic duels. I in fact hate them, those with powers such as I should never promote infighting. The whole point the Golden Crown is so effective is because its blessed united without an opposing order. But, hypothetically, If a regular person wanted to kill a mage they would need to be quick. Hypothetically, I might have been able to look at Racheal Redkin's records and discovered she was a mage that specialises in advisement."

"And what pray tell, is that... hypothetically of course." He smirked at the girl. Despite his playful attitude, he looked the young healer in the eyes, attempting his best to thank her with only his gaze.

"There are lots of different types of mages, healers who study the body, combat mages who learn to cast spells as quickly as possible, some who go to research distant lands and the undiscovered regions of the world. One type of mage are advisers, they don't specialise in any field of research but they learn magic to help bodyguard. They learn how to detect poisons with magic and protect them from threats, although most importantly they deliver messages from the Golden Crown to monarchs."

"So hypothetically how could I beat on in a duel?" The girl leaned in close as if she was worried the walls could hear her. It certainly wasn't illegal for the discussion of defeating a mage, although he doubted it would be a topic that was seen favourably.

"Advisers generally do know how to fight, they have to stop the occasional assassin and mob every so often. But unlike combat mages who are off fighting monsters, advisers just need to know the basics of combat spells. Why learn to create a tsunami of stone and mud when a simple fireball will melt any regular human whose dumb enough to charge directly at them? She doesn't know advanced combat spells and the offensive spells she does know probably require hand gestures or a chant. There is no reason for advisers to learn to cast combat spells without a chant as no human is fast enough to close a distance before a few words come out. She probably knows the basic repulse spell wordlessly but if you can get close enough to strike her then maybe you can avoid the repulse and take her down."

"Hypothetically of course." He added.

"Of course, hypothetically." she gave a knowing smile. "Still I find it very unlikely you will get close enough to her before she is able to burn you alive. I of course will be there to make sure you don't die along with Master Greenmist."

The boy got up from his bed, Clarisa gave him an odd look as if to ask what he was up to. He of course didn't bother to respond walking past the girl who was willing to provide him with a little support despite her strong stance against the duel. The healer probably thought what he was doing was stupid, he could see it in her eyes that she was pitying the boy. She knew Chelsea was going to be taken away and she probably thought it was for the best, yet she had supported him regardless and he would owe her for that.

"Thank you, now if you don't mind me I've got to prepare for my death." With that as his final words to the healer, he quickly made his way out of the healing ward. He didn't have time to spare, he had to prepare for the fight of his soon to be very quickly over life.

"Please don't die Anon."

"That's not my name!"

His first instinct was to run to the cafeteria, not for his last meal but rather where he knew laid plenty of sharp high-quality cutlery. With no personal chiefs or anything of the like it often fell to the mages themselves if they wanted to prepare something extravagant for themselves. The boy found the largest knife he could along with equally sharp but smaller knives hiding in his boots or pockets. This robe would have to go through, it simply got in the way too much. His tunic and trousers would be far more suited for a duel. Stuffy and itchy as they might be it would allow him to move faster than he could in robes. Maybe he could get Zerin to steal one of those leather combat robes that seemed to flow like water around them. He might have asked the girl from the library but she probably wanted him dead.

He couldn't focus on her right now he needed a way to defeat a mage. He'd stocked up on knives but that surely couldn't be all he could do. Was, he even allowed knives? In all honesty, he had no idea about the rules of mage duels, were weapons even allowed? If not he was even more screwed.

When the boy had made it to Zerin and his room he found his door strangely ajar. It was probably Zerin in his rush around the castle to do everything but complete nothing. The boy had too much energy, even for someone as young as he was. The boy expected to open the door and see either an empty room or Zerin at the desk trying his best to fight his potential ADD while studying magic. What he hadn't expected was to see the young-looking but old man Master Greenmist examining the drapes of the room.

The squeak of the door alerted the older mage to the presence of the boy. The experienced healer turned towards him, his tired eyes scrutinising every aspect of him. Had it not been for recent backstabbing and child stealing events he would have been pleasantly surprised at seeing the healer. But now he couldn't stand the sight of the older man, he didn't know what correlation Clarisa had to the man but they shared the same family name so they must have been related by blood. Despite the connection, he didn't understand how someone kind like her could have been raised by the man who stood before him, she didn't share the same presence he did. When he stood near the healer he felt drained, as if the tiredness and apathy were infectious.

"What do you want? Looking for more children of mine, unfortunately, I'm fresh out." If the man was offended he certainly didn't show it, even if he was. The man didn't seem to care about anything.

"Your room is in terrible condition, there is dust everywhere." The healer spoke in a poor attempt at changing the conversation. Yet the boy was far from appreciative of his intrusion and if he thought that he could prevent him from acting like a spiteful child he was dead wrong. Ideally, he would like to make this experience as unpleasant as possible.

"Yeah, that tends to happen when you spend your whole day cleaning the massive castle. Ironically not enough time to clean your own room."

"I see. I myself was never a novice. I only ever entered an academy at the age of twenty when my own mother brought me in after she deemed me component enough in healing to at least gain some work experience."

"I don't care," His eyes narrowed. "Did you come here just to gloat about how amazing you are, or are you here to throw yourself out the window? Because please don't let me stop you, by all means, go ahead."

"I apologise, I suppose it does sound like gloating but I assure you that wasn't my attention. Though I suspect no matter what I say you're not going to make this any easier are you? The rude gesture the boy supplied seemed to answer his question.

"I thought as much, I know your probably not going to like hearing this but I don't mind how this has all ended, either the child does to a person who could at least provide some support, however, the other option while lacking in funds clearly does care for the child and is willing to get pretty injured for her in a fight he has no chance in winning."

"I'm glad my suffering brings you so much joy."

"What I'm trying to get to is that I don't mind how this whole duel ends. I am not against you, despite what you might think. I don't want you to die." The man reached into his robes and pulled out a coin pouch slightly larger than his own fist. that sagged with the weight it held. The boy only watched in curiosity as the man poured a little bright red dust into his hand.

"This is fire pixie dust. As you know under the castle is a menagerie of exotic monsters and creatures." He had known, he was very adamant about never being the novice to get stuck cleaning the cages but unfortunately, it seemed it was a job everyone wanted to avoid. "I personally don't condone the living conditions that alchemists keep them in but I suppose it has its uses. Fire pixie dust has a habit of combusting when magic flows into it." As if on cue the dust in his hand exploded into a burst of flames.

"Make sure you flick your wrist and throw the dust or you'll just end up setting your hand on fire. It's not a guaranteed win but if you get close it could surprise her." He placed the pouch of pixie dust on the desk of his room sitting it next to Zerin's very flammable notes. He'd have to tell the boy to not touch it or this entire room could go up in fire.

"This doesn't make up for what you did."

"That's good cause this wasn't an apology, this was merely a 'please don't die' gift. I wholly believe I did the right thing by allowing the girl to be adopted by Ms Redkin. Had you not barged in and gloated her I would have done it." The boy let out a deep growl that came from his throat, feral and primal. A challenge for the older mage to keep talking and risk getting pixie dust thrown in his face.

"I wouldn't expect a boy like yourself to be anything less than selfish. Perhaps my breath is wasted." Mage Greenskin continued. "I bid my farewell, but before I go how are your nightmares treating you. My apprentice has informed me that when she puts you to sleep you are quite restless, of dreams of a mage in a library trying to move a small wooden doll?"

"What of it?"

"I am a healer, I find irregularities important to correct or at least improve the quality of life of my patients. My medical advice, keep your dreams to yourself. Nightmares aren't uncommon even for mages, even we aren't immune to trauma. Your vivid dreams are quite unnatural, a mage who gets angry while studying? Quite tame don't you think? Not to mention this is an occurrence you say you've had your entire life according to Clarisa."

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying that it's strange that's all. So do yourself a favour and keep quiet. There are a few rules we mages must follow, but a few of the main ones are, no shapeshifting magic as shapeshifting is a tool only for murders and assassins, not a mage. No creating sentient life, some horrors are better left off uncreated. Finally, no mental magic. The ability to erase and create memories can only be misused. The memories of a mage that isn't yourself might set off a few alarm bells in the heads of more strict mages. Not only that but your attitude also is a bit concerning."

The boy opened his mouth to retort but the healer cut him off faster than he could speak. "I don't mean that as an insult but rather an observation. You've been more demanding, selfish and loud. Something to expect of a tired and drained mage rather than a servant which you claimed to be for your life. Perhaps it's you just getting more used to the castle and mages, perhaps it's something more."