Well Oswald’s busy washing my underclothes so I suppose I’d
better write this myself. I knew that burning the latrines down would come back
to haunt me eventually, but I hadn’t expected bloody Headmaster Rixen Arvel to
show up. Maybe it was the temporal disturbance and vibrations of the
teleportation circle, maybe it was my body attempting to fly away with jet
propulsion. Either way, I’ve had to have Oswald out scrubbing for over an hour
now. Never thought I’d be so glad to smell the overpowering incense of the
college again. I don’t think Rixen noticed, thankfully. Anyway, as you’ll have guessed from the fact that you’re
reading this… I haven’t been obliterated and the fragments of my being sent
spinning across the planes. As if beholders, otherworldly primordial beings,
and resurrecting storm dwarfs hadn’t been provided enough entertainment for the
universe at my expense, the man I’ve spent the last half decade hoping is too
busy to come looking for me finally tracks me down… And offers me a promotion. Not just “a” promotion. “The” promotion. He only went and
made me the bleeding headmaster! Fuck me, what would have happened if I’d blown
up the rest of the college? I'd probably have been made a minor god. Hmm… I wonder…
No, probably best to not test that one So I signed the forms, took the staff, and he buggered off
on his retirement. It was all over so fast, there was barely time to eat two
dozen of his almond biscuits. I can scarcely believe it. I don’t have to run anymore. Screw this
quest, screw the world, I’m finally going home! I’ll have a wine fountain
installed again, belittle some students, and assign Felaby to class 48F where
the room always smells of old feet. Oh, today is a wondrous day. Oswald seems
to have finished, so I’m off to pack. Goodbye Chult, hope you sort out the
whole death curse thing. What? Oh stop looking at me like that Owl!
You too Dog, stop it I said!
Yes of course I’m leaving, why would I not? Oh they’ll struggle along just
fine, they’re a capable bunch.
Well… okay yes they probably will get themselves killed, but that’s not my
problem.
Moral high ground? No, I prefer my high ground physical thank you very much.
Anyway, up in that tower I’ll have more high ground than I could ever use.
Oswald are you writing this conversation down?
Why?
Oh you really are a prick Oswald, its easy to make me look bad when you never
write your own bits.
What did you just call me?
Right give that here! Ahem, well... sorry you had to read that. Trouble with the
help, you see. Anyway I really should be going to pack now. Oh for fucks sake, I can’t do it. Perhaps I’ve gone soft,
perhaps I’ve gone native. Either way I can’t just up and leave them yet. I
can’t leave Borgen after I came all this way for him. I can’t leave drev’nae…
well she’s already mad at me for leaving her when I popped out for ten minutes
to sign some papers and eat a biscuit or two (or twenty one), imagine what
she’ll be like if I left properly. I can’t leave Velverin running around the
jungle somewhere with that bloody gem in his chest. And Hawk… well its probably
for the good of the world that I don’t leave Hawk. I feel like if I take my eye
off him for more than an hour, he’ll bring about an apocalypse by accident.
Right then, once more unto the breach and all that. Never let it be said that
Professor Faelon leaves things unfinished.
I refuse to let down my friends, the crab sandwiches in the College canteen can
wait…
Oh shit, why didn’t I get some to take away while I was
there? Idiot, idiot, stupid bloody idiot!
