A Word of Caution C andlelight flickered in the dimly lit room, casting
sprightly figures of dancing light across dusty leather-bound tomes, containing
secrets they dare not whisper. The senescent tomes were adorned with intricate designs
and archaic runes that hinted at promises of ancient knowledge. Despite a thin layer
of dust, each tome was purposefully arranged within towering oak bookshelves wainscoting
the perimeter of the Headmaster’s chamber. The foundation of this study,
replete with tabulated chronicles of lore was set in timeworn stone at the
heart of the College. Within
the Headmaster’s chamber lingered a silence that exuded a sequestered tranquillity,
emblematic of the College’s enigmatic founder, first Headmaster Myrdin
Silvestrys. He was a shrewd and eccentric Moon Elf with a vision for the
College that reminded Felaby much of the Mithrendain Watchers who kept vigil
over the gate into the Fey Dark. Felaby
had not known him personally, for Myrdin was long before his time. Still, he
felt as though he could imagine what it might have been like to stand in Myrdin’s
presence from the academic cloister he left behind. The first Headmaster’s name
surfaced again, and again, within every three dozen pages of historical records
of the college he combed through. There was a staggering gap in the records,
from the time of 4 th Headmaster Aurelius Tuduvallus to 5 th
Headmaster Rixen Arvel… There seemed to be no mention of administration staff
activity or artefact inventory. “Most curious…” Felaby thought aloud to himself, as his quill
formed elegant calligraphic letters on fragrant Astrazalian parchment, his personal
favourite from the Feywild’s city of Starlight. A
sudden creak from the chamber door interrupted Felaby’s rumination, seemingly announcing
an uninvited visitor. Headmaster
Felaby did not deign to lift his eyes from the parchment as he spoke in his
usual modulated tone, “Most would have
the decorum to knock before entering." “Headmaster, you know very well I am not ‘most
people’. I knew this was as good a time as any.” A voice seeming weary from decades of responsibility
answered. “Ah yes” said
Felaby, as he finally lifted his attention from the parchment. “The ever-insightful Professor Eve Pryor always knows.” It was difficult to
discern whether his reply was a genuine complement or if it was laced with condescension. “What I am meant
to know, that is.”
Although Eve seemingly presumed the former, she didn’t appear at all too
concerned which of the two it was. She and Felaby had never been at odds with
one another, nor did he possess any tangible reason to harbour such intent –
now more than ever. “And that is
precisely why I am here." Headmaster
or not, Felaby knew that Professor Pryor did not simply turn up uninvited
without good cause. With his quill still in hand, he gestured for her to
continue. “You are well aware that I do not interfere in
matters… except that its purpose is gr eater than personal issues and current
politics.”
Eve began. Her voice was warm and gentle belaying an underlying sense of urgency. “Of course Professor, it is for that reason the
College prides itself for having you as Professor of Divination.” Felaby admitted. Eve
nodded and her wizened gaze strayed, complements and flattery did not move her.
What care for idle flattery could she have while inundated by the weight of burdens
far heavier than she cared for. “I have
no intentions of entertaining… this rivalry you have with Faelon." Felaby
levelled his gaze at her use of the word ‘rivalry’. “I beg your pardon Professor. Faelon would need to at least be a minor
threat to even begin to qualify as a ‘rival’." Eve
gave a deep sigh and reminded herself that she was not dealing with an initiate
in his formative years any longer. “Forgive
me Headmaster, I’m accustomed to my students’ juvenile tomfoolery." Felaby
observed Eve quietly for an uncomfortable moment. He was well aware of the
gossip transpiring in the college and the dubitable atmosphere in which the
uncertain Headmaster transition created. He mulled her words over, unsure
whether he should accept her apology or not. “… You were saying?" “Yes... I must advise that you proceed in your designs
with caution. Although it involves personal trifles, the repercussions may
exacerbate certain events towards far more than simple trivialities.” Eve expounded with a patience that exuded the
inexplicable well of foresight. Felaby
arched a brow sceptically at the allusion. He was not yet certain what she
implied. “My intentions for Faelon are
purely didactic. If you think I’m plotting his death…" “You know better than that.” Eve corrected gently. It was true, everyone
knew – Felaby especially – that Professor Pryor accused only after witnessing
such, post divination. “I speak of that
Summer Court noble you insist on meddling with.” “I see…”
Felaby paused and considered her words. He wondered how his involvement with
Drev’nae could aggrandize into something far more than interpersonal concerns. “I’ll keep your advice in mind. Thank you.”
Still, he knew full well that Eve would not issue false alarms or empty
warnings. Professor
Pryor observed Felaby for a moment until she finally seemed content with his
response. Satisfied that her warnings were heeded, she turned to leave. “Oh and Professor… One more thing? Should your
divination have any insight that is”,
Felaby called after her. The absence of courtesy or condescension in his tone
made Eve stop in place. Was that a tinge of sincerity she heard in his voice? “Why do you suppose it is she resists me?” Felaby questioned candidly. There
was no mistake. This was the waltz of sincerity and puzzlement intertwining as
one. Eve stifled a snicker at his youthful obliviousness. She reminded herself that as a diviner, she
could not expect everyone else to see as much as she could. For what she saw was
precisely the reason why she did not covet the position of Headmaster. Finally,
Eve peered over her shoulder with a soft smile and answered. “Perhaps… You are not as important to her as
you are to yourself, Headmaster.” Felaby
eyed Eve incredulously as she spoke and then closed the door behind her,
leaving him to his paperwork. “… Well now. That will have to change, won’t
it?” Felaby chuckled to himself, as he turned his
gaze toward the faerie-like candlelight that danced whimsically across his work.
