Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 36: 36. The Headmaster

Read chapter 36 of Shadows Over Arcadia by Zacheas on NovelPedia.

36. The Headmaster I am Lord Lucian Kael, age 61, and I am the Headmaster of the Arcadian Academy of Magic, Member of the leading council of the Kingdom of Arcadia and this world’s leading researcher of all types of magic, magical tools and Monsters. No human who has ever lived has known more about magic than I. https://shadowsoverarcadia.com/api/storage/objects/uploads/3d3f5d81-071d-42fb-a332-aae1897386a1 “Whatcha reading, Lucian?” comes a high, playful voice off to my right. Perched atop a precarious stack of books on my desk is Lavender, a twenty-centimeter-tall pixie with pink skin and an ever-present glint of mischief in her eyes. She kicks her tiny legs back and forth with restless energy, clearly bored and itching for entertainment. “It’s Headmaster Kael, Lavender,” I reply dryly, barely glancing up as I turn the delicate page of an ancient Elvish tome. It’s one of the academy’s few surviving volumes on Elvish magic—a priceless chronicle of lost wisdom that I personally preserved after the senseless war against the elves. So much knowledge was needlessly destroyed. We humans, so short-lived and arrogant, erased the lifetimes of insight that older, wiser races had gathered. How foolish we were. “Want me to translate that book for you?” Lavender offers with a sly smile and a flutter of her wings. “No, Lavender. As tempting as it might be to have this text translated into Common,” I say, pausing to scribble down another line in my own translation, “I’m well aware you’d ‘helpfully’ translate it into some other obscure language I don’t speak.” Lavender throws her head back with a dramatic pout, scrunching up her nose. “You’re no fun, Master Kael.” “Already regretting our pact, my little fae friend?” I reply sardonically, gesturing to the Elvish-to-Common dictionary propped up beside her, nestled among the stack of books she’s arranged into a makeshift throne. “Absolutely not!” Lavender exclaims, stretching her arms high above her head. Unfortunately, I make the mistake of looking up. She’s neglected her clothing again, her tiny pink body shamelessly bare. The sly look she gives me confirms it’s intentional—another not-so-subtle attempt to steal my attention. “Forming a pact with you has made life so much easier!” she continues, rolling onto her back and stretching her legs in a clearly provocative fashion. “Before I met you, I spent years chasing my next meal. Watching you read dusty old books is far better than starving.” “Glad to hear it,” I mutter, eyes narrowing at the page. “Now put some clothes on and stop trying to distract me.” “Fine…” she sighs, clearly annoyed. With a flash of light, a tiny blouse and skirt appear on her—just enough fabric to be considered clothing, though it leaves little to the imagination. She sits back up with a smug little grin, clearly pleased with herself for obeying the order while defying the spirit of it. “What is it you hope to achieve by teasing me like that?” I ask. “Well,” she says with a sigh, shaking her head in mock disappointment, “I was kinda hoping you’d ask me to fix the size difference so we could make love. Then I’d shrink you down to my size.” “That sounds unpleasant.” “It would’ve been hilarious ,” Lavender corrects with a grin. “Being reduced to twenty centimeters is a cruel joke.” “Relax. You’d return to normal,” she scoffs. “I couldn’t maintain a spell like that for long anyway.” I turn the page of the tome I’m translating. The chronicle describes how elves once forged pacts with the fae, mutually beneficial bonds in which the fae granted access to their magic in exchange for small, regular offerings of blood. Not enough to weaken or shorten a lifespan, but sufficient to carry the lingering essence of life the fae could feed upon. When I discovered that elves once used these pacts to enhance their magic, I naturally wanted to attempt it myself. That was how I met Lavender. She’s a lesser fae, not yet five hundred years old. When I found her, she was starving and desperat