”A good merchant knows anything can be bought, a great one asks the price.”

  — Oshani Proverb

  Whitewood closed the door to his office and turned to Quinn, who was standing awkwardly beside his desk. He hadn’t taken a seat on account of his muddy appearance— deciding to wait until Whitewood took care of it as he had promised.

  “Now let me see…” said Whitewood, trailing off. Reaching into a small coin pouch he had at his side, he grabbed a hold of something and, in a motion that hurt Quinn’s brain, the mouth of the pouch opened wider than should’ve been possible.

  From the non-Euclidean pouch mouth, Whitewood retrieved a leather bound tome that was worn from years of use. It was strange for Quinn to see such a thing in Whitewood’s hands, given how much it contrasted with his otherwise up-to-date and tidy appearance.

  Flipping through the pages, Whitewood found what he was looking for. Removing a stylus from loops along the book’s spine, he flipped to a new page and scribbled out some glyphs. Quinn thought he recognized one meant for defining boundaries, though he had to admit he hadn’t been able to pay attention all that well in his first lecture on glyphs. The teacher was a bore.

  “This should do it.” Said Whitewood, flashing him a grin. With a flick of Whitewood’s wrist, an Aether flow opened, and Quinn felt a presence wash over him.

  The mud peeled off his clothes and skin, and seemed to slither its way down his hair, before grouping in a ball right before him. It then floated over to the trash to the side of Whitewood’s desk, before falling in with an unceremonious plop.

  The Aether flow then faded away with another motion of Whitewood’s hand.

  “That’s convenient, thank you!” Said Quinn to the young professor.

  ”Oh, it was no bother, it’s my fault you had to trek through this downpour anyways— My office isn’t exactly in a convenient location for meeting with students.” Whitewood said as he took a seat behind his desk, motioning for Quinn to sit down as well. Taking a seat across from Whitewood, Quinn finally took some time to study the office he found himself sitting in. It didn’t take long.

  His first thought was that Whitewood’s office couldn’t have been more different from the office of Professor Hindleton. The room had an almost sterile appearance. The only piece of furniture other than the desk and chairs, which they presently occupied, was an empty bookshelf that seemed to be built into the wall.

  Survey complete, Quinn turned back to Whitewood, only to find himself being studied by the professor in much the same way.

  ”How do you like my office?” Whitewood asked.

  ”It’s… nice?” Said Quinn, fishing for an answer that wouldn’t offend the person who had offered him free tutoring.

  The corner of Whitewood’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. “Oh there’s no need to try to pad my ego— I know it’s a pretty blank slate. I haven’t had the chance to fully move-in yet actually, I was offered this post right before admissions week and then was busy with that. I had hoped to do some unpacking before our appointment today but…” He frowned a little, “Other matters had to be attended to this morning.”

  Quinn’s mind flashed back to the student leaving Whitewood’s office in cuffs. He certainly admired the professor's diplomatic way of phrasing things. He also appreciated the opportunity it gave him to ask a question that had been nagging at Quinn since his reading of the University Handbook last night.

  ”What exactly is your position here, if you don’t mind me asking, Professor Whitewood?” He asked, although he had a suspicion he already knew.

  “It’s just Adjunct Professor actually— but you can also just call me Elias. I don’t teach any official classes, so the whole ‘Professor’ thing seems kind of silly.” Replied Whitewood, “As for my position here, I am the Peacemaker’s Liaison to this esteemed institution.”

  Quinn eyes widened slightly. He recalled the Peacemakers from Bao and Clint’s crash course on Locros— They were some sort of international peacekeeping force that hunted down rogue mages. Well, they operated internationally, but Clint had mentioned that their authority wasn’t really recognized in some nations due to conflicting views on what constituted a ‘rogue’ mage.

  Bao and Clint had then had a small argument that, to Quinn, sounded like conspiracy theorists arguing about a shadow government, before moving on from the topic and assuring Quinn it wasn’t something he needed to worry about. ‘Just know that they take care of rogue mages and that should be good’ were Bao’s exact words.

  He was questioning the wisdom of his roommates.

  ”I see you have heard of the Peacemakers!” Said Whitewood, having read Quinn’s change in expression, “I must say I’m impressed that someone who didn’t even know the date a few days ago has heard of us.”

  ”I’ve picked up a few things since then.” Quinn said cryptically, instinctively clamming up around what he gathered to be the magical equivalent of a cop.

  ”Good, that’s smart.” Nodded Whitewood. “Means I will have to do significantly less explaining than I thought I would need to today. Tell me, do you know the role of the Peacemaker Liaison?”

  “You’re the one responsible for handling violations of University rules, right?” Supplied Quinn, although something nagged at his mind still.

  Whitewood’s lips twitched down slightly, “Yes, I suppose that is correct. I simply handle—“

  The pieces clicked together for Quinn then. The specific phrasings of the rules in the handbook. The repeated reminders that he should read it. Whitewood’s disappointed reaction.

  ”Wait!” Said Quinn, cutting off Whitewood. “You said you don’t teach any official classes… but you do teach something, don’t you?”

  Whitewood paused, his expression remaining level but the hint of a smile reaching his eyes.

  Quinn continued, “It’s the job of the Peacemaker’s to hunt down rogue mages, and all mages start their training here at the University. You enforce all the rules of the University….”

  Quinn laughed.

  ”You’re like a magical DARE program!”

  Whitewood, who had slowly begun to smile as Quinn spoke, was now frowning. “I’m afraid I don’t know what a ‘dare’ program is?”

  Quinn waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, “Not important. What I meant to say is your job is to discourage mages from becoming rogue mages in the first place. And I also suppose you teach the skills necessary to catch rogue mages… but wait, doesn’t that also mean you teach mages how not to get caught? That seems a little counterintuitive.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Whitewood let out a chuckle, “You are exactly right— about my job being meant to discourage rogue mages from becoming such in the first place. As for the rest… it's a lot more nuanced than that. We could discuss it if you would like, but I had other things in mind first, if that’s alright with you.”

  Thoughts of fantasy James Bond danced their way through Quinn’s head, but, as Whitewood reached into his pouch, the thoughts danced their happy little selves back into the corner of his mind.

  ”That’s fine. What else did you have planned? And what should I expect out of these sessions going forward?” Asked Quinn

  Whitewood paused his search, and grinned at Quinn.

  ”Well, in your classes this semester you will begin learning basic glyphs, Aether control, and other introductory topics. Important things, mind you, which will be built upon in semesters to come, but things that aren’t immediately useful to helping an Outworlder such as yourself.”

  Pulling his hand out of the pouch, the same well-worn book from earlier emerged with it.

  “Of course, when you put them all together, they definitely can be helpful. That is what I aim to teach you with these sessions. Think of this as your class on ‘Practical Magic’.”

  Quinn felt a thrumming in his chest, excitement at the opportunity to advance his developing magical skills. This thrumming was counteracted by a gnawing sense of worry. What reason could Whitewood have for taking such an interest in Quinn? What did he have to gain?

  Quinn expressed as much.

  “That seems- Well it seems great, but it does leave me wondering… Why exactly am I getting this special treatment? Surely there are other students here that are more deserving of your attention.”

  Whitewood regarded him for a moment, before responding in a tactful tone. “That is true, but don’t sell yourself short. You’re an Outworlder and, if history is any indication, your type tends to do great things. Think of this as an investment on my part in your future. One thing you’ll learn is that a mage can never have too many friends.”

  He clapped his hands together before continuing in a more upbeat light, “Besides- I never said you are the only student I’ll be meeting with. My role here affords me a lot of downtime. Time that I intend to use in productive ways. Might as well earn that title of ‘Adjunct Professor’ while I’m here!”

  Now that was something Quinn could understand, and he was quite appreciative of Elias’ honesty. While he was still a bit apprehensive about the situation, it couldn’t hurt to make friends with someone like Whitewood. Well, it probably could if he got roped into something, but Quinn didn’t see that as likely.

  “In that case, what was your plan for today?” asked Quinn, deciding the pros outweighed the cons.

  “I figured we could start where we left off, so to speak. Do you remember the practical test from your entrance exam?”

  Quinn gave him a blank stare, before reaching into his bag and retrieving the wooden plate he had been given yesterday, with that very circuit inscribed into it, as an answer.

  “Ah, I see you do… that works out well for us. Now tell me, do you know what each of these glyphs mean?” questioned Whitewood.

  Quinn furrowed his brow and examined the tablet, recalling what he could from his first class in glyphs. There were only really three glyphs here, and he found that he recognized them all. “This one around the outside is the base, it’s the glyph common to all circuits. It defines the boundaries of the spell.” said Quinn, tracing his fingers along the engravings of the plate, “This cone-shaped glyph is the start of the circuit, it's where you feed in the Aether. Then the last one, the one that looks like the sun, that’s the glyph for light. Of course, this circuit is slightly different from the admission's one, which also had a glyph for drawing in Aether.”

  Looking back up at Whitewood, Quinn saw a small smile on his face. “Very good, and so what does this circuit do?”

  Quinn frowned, sensing a trick in the question. “I mean, it emits light when you channel Aether into it, right?”

  Whitewood’s smile broadened.

  “You would believe that is what it does, and so you are right, but that isn’t all it does. Tell me, have you heard about the different types of casting in Aether Control?”

  He vaguely remembered something about that from the first class. Quinn nodded his head. “Yes, but not much.”

  “That makes sense, it is something that isn’t typically taught till later on. I, for one, believe that is a mistake. Limiting yourself now only makes things more difficult later. As I said, you believe this circuit is meant for emitting light, and it has glyphs related to that, so when you channel into it, light appears. But as I said, that isn’t everything it can do. If you simply change your way of thinking…” Whitewood trailed off and an Aether flow opened.

  It weaved its way through the air, floating like a leaf on the breeze, headed towards the circuit. Quinn pondered at the control required to do something like that. He remembered the torrent of water in his head when he had tried to channel. This was like a gently flowing stream in comparison. Something he should proba-

  The Aether made contact with the circuit and the room was plunged into darkness, the sudden change derailing Quinn’s thoughts. Just as quickly as the light had vanished, it reappeared as he felt the Aether flow be released back to… wherever it was Aether came from.

  Quinn stared at Whitewood, wide-eyed.

  “...then you can change your way of casting as well.” he finished.

  Questions formed in Quinn’s mind, the first and foremost of which he voiced out loud. “How did you do that?”

  Elias laughed.

  “If you were paying attention, I told you how I did it. Care to take a guess?”

  Quinn thought back to the professors words, carefully turning them over in his head. Realization dawned on him.

  “You didn’t believe it was a circuit for making light, you believed it was a circuit meant for taking away light.”

  The professor gave an encouraging grin, “Yes! That is correct.”

  This caused a new question to worm its way to the front of Quinn’s crowded mind.

  “If that's the case, then why do we need glyphs?” he asked

  Whitewood grimaced. “And that is the question that makes this a topic not taught until later years. Allow me to explain with a question of my own- What side of the hall do you walk on to class?”

  Quinn looked at Whitewood like he was crazy, before answering in a hesitant voice.

  “I mean, I walk on the right side of the hall. Most people do… What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Everything.” was Whitewood’s cryptic reply.

  Quinn didn’t think that answer was very helpful, but he didn’t get the chance to express as much as there was a knock on the door to Whitewood’s office. Seconds later, the door opened up, and his secretary peeked their head in.

  “Elias, there has been an incident with the transport and your assistance is requested.” she said.

  The ever present sly grin vanished from Whitewood’s face, and he stood from his chair. “Understood, we were just finishing up anyway. I will be right out.”

  The secretary gave a nod and pulled the door to the room back shut.

  “Well, I know this is an abrupt way to end things, but this is a good stopping point. I want you to think on what we just discussed. I believe you will find the exercise quite enlightening.” he cracked a smile at the pun.

  Quinn stood and nodded his understanding, “I will, thank you.”

  Whitewood let Quinn pack up and then ushered him out of his office. Locking the door behind them, Elias said his goodbyes and departed down the hall, leaving Quinn lost in thought in his waiting room.

  Of course, as was the norm for Quinn at this point, he wasn’t left to his thoughts for long before the clearing of a throat brought him back to reality. Whitewood’s secretary greeted him with a warm smile, outstretched hand offering something to him from behind her desk.

  A wooden rod, identical to the one Andrew had let him use earlier outside the gatehouse.

  “This might be of use before you head to class.” she said in a kind voice.

  Quinn mumbled his thanks, taking the rod. He also gave a brief promise to return it to her next week before setting off to find his first, official, class of the day. Alchemy.