Chapter 218 - Troublemaker

It was a day like any other—mundane, predictable, and dull. Perhaps even more so than usual.

At the grand private academy of Herow, where only the most talented and noble youth were admitted, the headmaster sat at their desk, buried in paperwork.

The documents were of the most tedious sort—schedules, regulations, and preparations for the upcoming academic year. With just a month before classes resumed, everything had to be in order. At Herow, only the highest standards were acceptable, and the headmaster was nothing if not a perfectionist.

Not a single mistake would be tolerated.

The headmaster, Jouska Hyptho VI, came from a long lineage of esteemed scholars, each bearing the Hyptho name with pride. Among gnomes, the Hyptho family was synonymous with intellect, order, and discipline. Their reputation stretched far and wide, respected in the highest circles of academia.

A knock at the door shattered the headmaster's focus. The pen in his hand hesitated above the parchment, a bead of ink swelling at its tip, threatening to stain the pristine page.

With a measured breath, the headmaster set the pen down with precision on the desk next to the paper, perhaps a bit too close. "Enter."

The door creaked open, revealing a visibly flustered assistant. Their robes were slightly askew, evidence of hurried movement—a lapse in Herow's well-oiled machine. Everything here was expected to run smoothly. No rushing. No fumbling. No nervousness.

Had the assistant been of gnomish descent, such sloppiness would have been an unforgivable disgrace. But they were reptilian, and Jouska had learned to temper his expectations. Some species, he reminded himself, struggled to grasp the natural order of things.

The headmaster steepled his fingers. "What is it?" 

"A… visitor, Headmaster."

The headmaster's brow twitched. Visitors were rare, and unexpected ones were almost unheard of.

"I assume this visitor has an appointment?" 

The assistant swallowed. "No, Headmaster."

Silence.

Then, after a slow inhale, the headmaster asked, "And who, exactly, has seen fit to disturb me without an appointment?"

The assistant hesitated. Whatever name they were about to utter carried weight. Finally, they answered: 

"He introduced himself as Vellichor. And… he carries the seal of Herow."

The pen, like the breaking of a dam, had reached its limit. A single drop of ink splattered onto the edge of the immaculate papers.

The headmaster's lips pressed into a thin line.

"…Bring him in."

The assistant bowed and hurried out. Moments later, a white-haired man strolled into the office, wearing an infuriating bright smile. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his black robe, his posture hovered just on the edge of disrespect—relaxed, unconcerned, as if this meeting was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Behind him stood a small group of girls, shifting uncomfortably under the headmaster's sharp gaze. They were young—but too old to be first-years. They carried themselves without grace, so the headmaster knew that they carried not even a drop of blue blood in their veins.

The headmaster's fingers tapped against the desk. "Mister Vellichor."

"Headmaster Jouska," Vellichor greeted smoothly. "Looking as exact as ever."

The headmaster ignored the flattery. "What is it you want?"

Though he tried to give a tone of polite annoyance, he cursed the man in his mind with words he'd never dare say aloud, as he knew that this man would bring nothing but trouble and chaos.

Vellichor gestured lazily toward the girls. "A favor."

The headmaster's eyes narrowed. "No."

A dramatic sigh. "You didn't even hear what it was."

"Indeed, I did not. I don't need to. The answer is no."

Undeterred, Vellichor took a step forward, his smile fading into something with more compassion and pity. "They want to learn," he said. "They need a place where they can do that."

The headmaster's gaze flicked back to the girls. Some avoided eye contact. Others met their stare head-on. One, a green-cloaked girl slightly older than the rest, stood out—there was something different about her, a fiery spirit. She crossed her arms.

"They don't belong here," the headmaster said.

Vellichor tilted his head. "I still carry some authority here, don't I?" And put the seal of Herow on the table.

The air in the office grew heavier. 

"That was a special case," the headmaster said coolly. "Your authority was annulled sixty-five years ago."

Vellichor's smirk returned, just slightly. "Was it?"

The curses in the mind of the headmaster turned even more impolite.

A tense silence stretched between them.

At last, the headmaster leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing the girls with cold calculation. "They do not seem to be of noble birth. Do they have potential? Do you think they have enough to be here?"

"They don't," Vellichor admitted bluntly. "Not yet."

The girls stiffened at his words. The one in green glared at him.

"But," he continued, "give them a year, and they might surprise you." 

Jouska let out a short, dry laugh.

"A year?" He thought. "The audacity of this man…!"

After a long pause, he exhaled sharply. "They would have to pass the entrance trials."

"Good thing they've got a month to prepare."

Silence stretched once more as Jouska studied them. Then, rubbing his temples as though already regretting his decision, he relented.

"One month. If they fail, they leave. No second chances."

Vellichor extended a pale hand, his smirk widening.

"As always, a pleasure."