Headmaster Friksul felt a cold shiver run through his body as the red gem he had enshrined on a small pedestal on his desk began to glow.

“@#R$! No… it’s not my fault!” He shouted at the gemstone. Drawn by his yelling, his assistant hesitantly knocked on the door before letting himself in. He saw the gemstone’s glow and immediately left to find an enchanter or activator. Forty seconds later a harried woman stumbled into the room, being pushed from behind by the assistant.

“Professor Neffle! Perfect! Activate this communicator!”

“Headmaster! I was teaching class! What is the meaning of this!?”

“Patricia Forrester is on the other side.”

“Oh…” The color drained from the professor’s face as she stared at the cursed stone. She shied her face away from it like she was considering running away, but made a frustrated deep breath before stepping up to the shrine. She turned her Magic Soul over and over through her channels, confused at the huge amount of magic required to activate a regular communicator gem. Once she finally felt the connection snap into place, she sighed heavily and made for the door. She did still have a class to teach, after all. Also, she knew only words were going to come out of that gem but even the name of the woman on the other side terrified her. She had no interest in hearing the voice of the woman she once idolized. Times had changed, and you should never meet your hero.

Before she could escape the room, however, an explanation for the heavy activation cost came in the form of a wave of magic power potent enough to blow all three adults off their feet. The assistant, being the youngest member of the trio, was the first to right himself despite the pain in his hip. He felt like crying as he watched all the carefully organized paperwork in the room flutter about, any semblance of order forgotten with the magical bomb.

“Headmaster Friksul. Why are you not doing what I asked of you?” Her message was short and succinct. It was also the last thing Friksul wanted to be questioned on. He didn’t get his position without a little elbow rubbing though, so he tried first to deflect.

“I am not sure what you mean, Lady Forrester? You asked me to take care of your son and ensure his safety, yes? I personally went to your home and invited him to the Academy. Last I had heard, he was also still quite safe… no?” He wasn’t sure why he had shifted into his politician demeanor to try to talk his way out of trouble. He desperately hoped it would work, though did not have high hopes in the regard. Expecting another wave of magic, he tensed up with each new shiver his body made him go through.

“You personally invited him… yet he has not attended even a single class. Perhaps you were not persuasive enough? Did you not put in enough effort, Headmaster? Furthermore… you claim he is safe? How is it then that he has already dueled a Royal Prince and publicly performed a penectomy on two attempted rapists? The first of which happened on your academy grounds, the second at your entrance gate! So please… explain to me again why you are not doing what I asked of you?”

“I… I will go to your estate in the morning and personally escort him to class. I’ll have Professor Neffle, who is standing beside me after activating the communicator, teach his first lesson. You can rest assured, Lady Forrester, your son will receive a fine education here!” Friksul had already resigned himself to this fate when he heard that Prince Rue was laid out nearly dead in the arena infirmary the previous day. When an investigator from the Palace arrived that same afternoon and requested the Magister accompany him to a potential crime scene on the roof… he felt his fate shift from misery to extinction.

Up on the rooftop they found nothing. Literally nothing. The roof was cleaner than it had ever been. Not only was there no crime scene like Friksul was imagining, there was even a spherical space that completely lacked any magical interaction. It was like the world was struggling to reincorporate that sphere into its own space. Magic permeates everything, all the time. Except in a strange sphere two meters in diameter directly above Friksul’s own office. The investigator did not seem to notice the void with their senses as they simply walked through it, stirring the surrounding magic into mixing faintly with the sphere. Friksul may have used backroom means to get his position, but he did still possess the skill to rightfully stay in it. Noting the ‘void’ of magic was well within his means. Honestly, who still accuses her of being a healer?

Is she here in the capital?! Why bother involving me if she was here all along!? He had thought at the time. But now he knew. He was being targeted by a bored, widowed woman to provide entertainment before she ultimately destroys him. It was as plain as day. Friksul gritted his teeth but bowed his head again anyway.

“I am afraid you caught me at a bad time and I am running out of power. I must retire.”

“Headmaster. Do what I asked. If I am forced to come to Pecunia to make my child attend class myself, I will be… shall we say… frustrated.” Friksul let out an exaggerated sigh and plopped back down at his desk lifelessly as the gem lost its glow.

“It has to actually be me, does it not? No one else will be able to see through his illusions. He could just pretend to go along with whoever and then vanish without a trace.” Friksul mused, his face scrunching up and frowning. Professor Neffle and the assistant just shared a look in silence.

* * * * *

It was a beautiful day to be alive. Syron glared not at Marigold whom had woken him up by opening the curtains to his window, but at the light itself. Well, he tried to glare at it. He had to glare with his sight, but the fact that it was too bright was why he was upset with the light in the first place. Cranking his magic soul up for the morning, he immediately dimmed the light so he could acclimate a bit as he rolled out of bed.

Without a word, Marigold left the room with all the prim and proper grace of a lady. Syron scowled at her dignified retreat, gifting her with a pair of red horns and a forked tail as she walked away. Focusing on his illusion to better wake himself up, he found he could track her relative location within the mansion so long as he maintained concentration. This focus was welcomed. It reminded him that he could do fun things with his magic too, not just ruin people’s lives.

It’s not like he felt guilt over those two men in particular. On the contrary, he felt that their punishment was a little too light. Obviously for the attempted sexual assault they should have their junk removed. But what about the physical damage the girl received? Should they not have received comparable damage? At the time, unfortunately, his flight response kicked in so hard he bailed before he could actually finish what he started.

As it turns out, I don’t deal well with hurting people like that. I may have been an adult in my previous life, but it’s not like I ever acclimated to stabbing people in the jewels. Instead, I left those scum to the three girls that always accompany me… hah… hopefully that delivery twin is fine at least. She would probably feel safer around the knight pair and maid anyway.

Syron could feel Marigold’s illusions returning to the room, so he quickly got dressed in the fresh and clean uniform she had put out for him. He chuckled darkly to himself.

Is today the day I finally attend school again? I never thought I’d be going back there once I graduated, that’s for sure.

Along with Marigold, Kasumi and Renee were also present.

“Young Master. You have an escort to your class today.” Marigold said without changing her expression.

Attempting to pull himself back into a positive mood, Syron forced a smile as he walked down the steps to the front door. Waiting at the gate to the estate was Magister Friksul with an Academy carriage. Syron stepped before the Headmaster and waited for an explanation, but instead of more thinly veiled condescension he got resignation.

“Lord Forrester, I humbly request you come with me to the Academy. It is no exaggeration to say that my life is on the line.” He then bowed his whole body at the waist.

“No… um… no need to exaggerate. I’m sure your life would be just fine without me in it.”

“Indeed, but the Lady Forrester has contacted me. Suddenly dying would be the least of my worries in the case you are truant once again.”

“Nonsense. My mother wouldn’t murd… huh… scratch that. Alright Frisky. Let’s go slay some math problems or whatever. Care for another game while we ride?” Syron smiled as he climbed in the carriage ahead of the Magister, a playing board already materialized with the pieces for Lordling’s Gambit. Kasumi interjected herself in between Friksul and Syron, entering the carriage second like she hadn’t just rudely pushed someone else out of the way. Syron just pretended like it didn’t happen.

“Unless you’d like to play a variation? I like to call it Tkhess. I imagine you might enjoy it more. The Lordling is the weakest piece on the board.”

After testing Friksul’s demeanor shift with mispronouncing his name, as well as Kasumi’s unexpected rudeness, Syron was pleased to note that the Magister didn’t get angry. Syron also felt a little guilty too, but since Friksul wasn’t acting like a tool anymore, he felt no need to continue being heavy handed with the unfortunate Headmaster. Syron trounced him because of the unfamiliar rule change while they rode with an only slightly strained ambience. Kasumi spent nearly the whole trip glaring at Friksul.

After Kasumi was left at the gate, Syron was all but frog marched to a classroom.

“This is Professor Neffle’s class. She teaches Applied Imbuing. Since we don’t know what you even intend on learning here, and the semester is halfway done anyway, just… listen to whatever you want. I don’t care a whit if you learn nothing from this experience, but I’ll be damned if I just roll over and let you throw my life away. Understand?”

“Fair enough. I’d like a course list and syllabus. I can catch up on my own with reading and asking questions, but not if I don’t even know what to study. At any rate, I won’t get in your hair as long as you don’t get in mine. I only have one real reason for attending here anyway, and education isn’t it.”

Friksul had relaxed enough to bristle at Syron’s claim he didn’t care about the education he would receive at the most prestigious school in the Kingdom, perhaps the world.

“And what reason would that be?” Friksul asked through pursed lips.

“To make friends of course! I have a long life ahead of me. I can’t be a social pariah forever you know. Eventually, people will look back and think ‘Huh! That Syron is such a nice bloke! I’m glad I became friends with him back before he became the Grand Duke. Now I can go to wicked-awesome-cool parties he throws and I don’t have to feel awkward because I was never a condescending douche to him!’”

Friksul stood frozen in the hallway, staring at Syron with dead eyes.

“This is happening to me… because you want to make friends?”