“He’s dead?” Helaneth shrilled. Even whispers traveled well in the lecture room, and so her shouts were earsplitting as they bounded across every walnut-paneled wall. “Days, days searchin’ for the damn dog, haulin’ ourselves out to the middle of nowhere and back, and you’re tellin’ me the old nutterbrain’s gone and keeled over anyhow?”

  “Miss Helaneth,” Al’mar grunted through his teeth. Elbows out to either side, he closed a hand over his fist and lowered his head in apology to the overseer of their task. Magistra Bellanaume, now pending head of the Grimros Mages’ Association, restrained none of her disapproval, her sharp face a weapon in itself. She cast her gaze down at the young Fenvar from her own impressive height, thin eyes narrowing to knives in the barred shadows of window frames. Her pointed chin jutted with a shift of her jaw.

  “Is this how you represent your company?” she asked. “Do you speak so crudely of everyone with no regard for their position?”

  “I ask for your lenience with my colleague’s rudeness, Magistra,” said Al’mar. “She means no disrespect to the founder of your chapter. Our task has proven more arduous and eventful than anticipated, and it has taken a toll on her.”

  “Lenience,” said the sharp-eyed wizardess, “Is what eroded the Mages’ Association to its current state as the laughingstock of magical practitioners across Esyrene. In a place as crooked and antiquated as Grimros, we suffer that effect tenfold. If I’m to even begin to surmount centuries’ worth of decline, I must be stringent with my associates, and even more so with those I commission for business.”

  “I reiterate, we apologize. I would like to think, Magistra, that in spite of Miss Helaneth’s blunder, we’ve shown good faith in bringing back the late First Wizard’s dog.”

  “That is granted, and in no way does your colleague’s little gaffe diminish it.” The loose bell of her sleeve crumpled against the podium as she thumbed over a sheet of parchment. “Change is coming to the Mages’ Association, myself the catalyst, along with others of similar rank across Nelthemar. And this letter I have here is from our first correspondent in Uminora. Suffice it to say, our cause is gaining traction. These changes start with the small things, you see, such as a simple warning to you and your company that each one of you will conduct yourselves professionally, lest you cease to find work within our walls. Stress, fatigue, or simply being rough around the edges are no longer acceptable excuses. Please do deliver that message to your superiors.”

  Al’mar lowered his hands to his sides and tilted his chin upward. “I will relay this, Magistra.”

  “Good. Now, I’m sure you’re on the tips of your toes waiting to discuss your reward. One hundred Esda, as promised.” She ducked behind the podium and retrieved a lockbox from the shelf, then unlocked it with a key from her sash. “Your help is appreciated. So long as mutual respect is maintained, you are welcome to seek out work from us anytime.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Thank you for this opportunity, Magistra,” said Al’mar, accepting with both hands the bag of coins which she passed to him. He hesitated before stretching out his overlapped palms to accept it. He couldn’t miss his opportunity to ask the favor they needed, however unnerving her rebuke. “I hate to ask in the same breath that airs gratitude, but would you be willing to have a look at something we found while on this task?”

  “Surely it’s important, if you would be so bold as to ask. Please, do show me.”

  Helaneth shuffled forth with her bag cradled in her arms, looking down at the floor. Al’mar reached in and produced the flat box. The wizardess double blinked, then took the box to examine it. She ran her fingers over the debossed “M” on the top, her nose wrinkling as if she’d smelled something foul.

  “With this, I cannot help you,” she said, handing it back to Al’mar, “The lock is warded under a spell far more potent than you could afford to compensate me for, were I to open it. I care little to take the risk.”

  “Wait – does that mean it’s dangerous?” Helaneth asked.

  “Only if mishandled. If you put it back where you found it, you should have nothing to worry about. Sometimes it is well that you do not tamper with such things.”

  “I beg your forgiveness, Magistra, but this box was found beneath what appeared to be a shipment of corpses,” Al’mar insisted. “We could find who did this.”

  “Do you believe I want to participate in such reckless do-gooding? Perhaps take it to the king’s wizard, if he’ll be so gracious as to see you. You have been paid for your work, and as it stands, you are still welcome to come back. It would be a shame for your continued prodding to jeopardize that.”

  During the silence that followed, Al’mar grasped for anything to persuade her and quickly reached the end of the rope. A misstep barring them from future prospects with the Association would be dreadful to explain to Deventh and Anna, despite his itch for answers.

  “We’ll just go and put this right back where it was then, ay, Al’mar?” Hela chimed in. “Maybe she’s right, ya know, about mindin’ our own business.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” Al’mar tightened his grasp on the bag of coins as his other hand surrendered the box to Hela. “Thank you again, Magistra, for this opportunity.”

  “And thank you for doing this final service to the First Wizard. It would be a great sorrow for our losses to be two, even if one is an animal. No doubt crosses my mind that the dog will be well loved as a community pet.”

  “Does he have a name, Magistra?”

  The wizardess nodded. “Leonarde.”

  The dog — who had been soaking up sun rays on a recamier beneath the window — wagged his tail at the sound of his name and jumped down to the floor. After a quick stretch and a hearty yawn, he trotted over, then wedged his snout between Helaneth’s fingers and gave her palm a slobbery lick. In a short-lived moment of glee, she giggled, but her smile soon dropped, and her voice became soft and wistful.

  “Looks more like a Bowen to me, but who am I to judge?” She gave Leonarde a pat on the head, ruffling his ears. “Let’s… let’s go now, Al’mar.”

  Leonarde’s claws clicked against the hardwood floor as he tried to follow them out. Helaneth stopped in the doorway and shook her head, crouching to eye level with him and patting his head one last time.

  “You’ve got to stay, pal,” she said, “Magistra and the others will take good care of ya. Promise.”

  Magistra Bellanaume snapped her fingers and called Leonarde over. His tail drooped and he gave a whimper, but he returned to her, sulking the whole way.