DRAGON
Kindergarten, plain and simple.
“Adept, I specifically asked for no circus tricks. I get it, on your ancestral swamps during those long, boring fall evenings, you might practice stuff like this. Why not just throw knives at your dean while you’re at it? What’s with the cheap theatrics? Are you aiming to be a circus princess? If so, why bother with a diploma? Any traveling carnival would snap you up. You’d shine in a sequined leotard, wowing the small-town crowds.”
The half-grown girl in the singed jumpsuit, with soot smudged on her left cheek, nervously twists her too-wide mouth for such a small face. Her unusual swamp-green, doll-like eyes fill with tears and despair.
“I didn’t… I’ll fix it. I need that diploma.”
Great. Scaring kids is one thing I haven’t done in my messed-up life.
“Yeah, I know you need it. The circus is for the young. A diploma, though? That’s forever.”
Right away, I could tell this kid didn’t grow up with luxuries. Thin bones, pale skin, bitten nails, not even a hint of a proper hairstyle. Even if I didn’t have to, I’d hire her. She’s gotta eat somehow.
More importantly, it’s a downright miracle. Not the slightest hint of an unhealthy obsession with my dragon nature. None of that specific interest that drives me up the wall and hounds me like a family curse.
And this mess on my desk? It’s practically screaming that all my deadlines are shot.
I can’t do a thing without a proper secretary. A clerk, as they call it around here. A female clerk, to be precise.
Because the guys here are either combat mages or necromancers. They come from rich families—hereditary magic tends to make you wealthy unless you’re a complete idiot. So, no way they’re taking a side gig as a secretary.
And when I recently had students work off skipped classes or failed tests, well, just look at the state of my desk.
By the way, there was definitely a sandwich here. I saw it just a minute ago. Where’d it go?
I’m starving. And it’ll spoil soon with this heat.
Phew, it’s hot. But unbuttoning my shirt in front of an adept? That’s asking for trouble. She’d probably claim I’m obligated to marry her, being an honorable man and all. It’s so stuffy, I can barely breathe.
Hold on. Why’s it hard to breathe? What heat? It’s October. She’s a month late for classes.
Could it be an infection? Nah. We don’t get sick. Our body temperature kills viruses. Heck, we don’t even notice the temperature around us. We’ve got our own internal thermostat.
Then it must be a hex. Did she curse me? Ridiculous. I didn’t detect any magic. If there’s anything there, it’s in homeopathic doses.
Still, I need a secretary. Even if she hexes me. Magda can undo it. No big deal. At least this adept isn’t fawning over me, prying into my life, or passed out from awe. It’s so unusual, I could almost be offended—if that wasn’t exactly what I needed for the job.
The girl looks straight into my soul—mine, her dean’s—with those tear-filled eyes.
Why’s she doing this? I can’t stand it when they cry.
“Alright, adept. Focus. We agreed on this. It’s not a test. Just concentrate and show me something from your family magic. What else can I give you? Oh, found the sandwich. Though it’s a bit squashed—had a paperweight on it.”
“That’s fine,” she says, her voice steady. Good for her, stress-resistant. “That’s perfect. Let’s use it. A sandwich is even better.”
She gingerly picks up my would-be lunch with two fingers, nails bitten down, and slips it into her sleeve. Unhygienic. I can just imagine what my poor mother would say about this.
She’d definitely tell me not to turn my desk into a pigsty or put random junk on top of sandwiches.
“Mom, you’ve probably cried all your tears over me disappearing. But here I am. Mission unaccomplished.”
The barrier won’t let me back to my parents without a mate. And that’s sad, because my father waited for my mother for millennia. Mostly in stasis, sure, but still.
There’s no mate for me here. What am I supposed to do?
And what’s this adept up to now? Some sharpshooter named Tyan, whatever that means. If she hits me with that sandwich, it’ll leave a grease stain on my shirt. I’ll have to go to the household magic department to get it cleaned, and their dean will definitely think I’m hitting on her.
Phew. Hot again.
“Adept, just be careful.”
She bites her lip. On other girls, that’d look flirty. With her, it’s clear she’s just focusing. And then she waves at me again, stubborn as ever.
Oops.
Before me is a porcelain plate with three sandwiches. Toasted. That’s why it felt so hot.
“Not bad at all, adept. You’re hired,” I say with my mouth full. A pair of green, doll-like eyes under a mop of messy red hair glares at me with disapproval. What, I can’t talk with food in my mouth? Another etiquette expert, huh. Is skipping breakfast and lunch allowed, then?
We dragons can’t go without food. Our metabolism is insane. We need to eat on time and a lot. Well, a lot by human standards. For us, it’s just enough.
Why’s she staring?
Come on, don’t look at me like that. It’ll get stuck in my throat.
“Take one, adept,” I hear myself say, seeing my hand extend the plate to her. My hand, mind you, which makes this whole situation unthinkable. Dragons don’t share food. True, it’s technically not my food. It’s hers. But still.
Her small hand grabs a sandwich, lifts it to that big mouth of hers, and the sandwich vanishes. Just like that, in one gulp. Heaven help me if I ever get that hungry.
“Adept, what do you know about clerical work?” I ask, pretending I didn’t just see her swallow that sandwich whole. “You missed lunch. Dinner’s not for another five hours.”
“Nothing,” she replies calmly. “I’m full now, thanks, sir. I’ve heard a lot about clerical work. Pretty much every day, from my dad. Though I’ve never actually done it. But I’m a quick learner.”
“I hope so. Because you’ll be expected to keep this desk clear of papers. Sort through correspondence. Bring the important stuff to me for signing and review. Deal with the unimportant stuff however you see fit. Record and send out orders, handle mail. And bring me coffee and lunch from the diner across the street. The portions in the cafeteria are way too small.”
“That’s no problem. I can increase them by about three times on average. And if I really try…”
There it is—pure bliss.
“No need for more, adept. Three times is just right. As for the rest…”
And then this nutcase waves her hand again.
The desk is clean. Well, the paperweight, pens, and inkwell are still there. But not a scrap of paper.
“What have you done, Adept Tyan?” I clutch my head. “You’ve just killed me!”
“I made your desk clear of papers. But if you’re against it…”
She waves her hand again, and the desk is buried under a ton of paper, just like before.
No, this won’t do.
“Adept Tyan, papers need to be sorted by purpose. You know, incoming, outgoing, filed, numbered.”
Those green eyes look at me like I’m an annoying fly buzzing around. Maybe even a mosquito, not a dean.
I won’t tolerate disrespect.
“Sir,” says Adept Tyan, “may I ask, how long has your desk been like this?”
“A month, adept,” I complain about my life, forgetting about hierarchy for a moment. “Ever since everyone worked off their absences and failed grades. And it’s pretty sad, honestly.”
“And nothing terrible happened, sir?”
“Well, how do I put it? Finding a sandwich was no small feat. And the schedule for the second semester got lost. Now I don’t even know if we have enough instructors.”
“Second semester’s still a ways off,” she brushes off my complaints.
“True, nothing major happened. You’ve got a point there,” I admit. I always give credit where it’s due. I’m fair and peace-loving. In the broadest sense of peace-loving, anyway.
“My dad used to say if a paper hasn’t been needed in a week, it’s not important. And how do you tell the schedule apart from the other papers?”
“Well, it’s huge, you know, on thick paper. And it’s got so many corrections, I can’t always tell which one’s the latest.”
Oops!
Now I’m holding a rolled-up schedule. And it didn’t come from the desk. It flew out of the cabinet, where I now remember stashing it so it wouldn’t get lost.
Hmm. An extraordinarily talented adept.
I look her in the eye and nod. She nods back, and the pile of papers vanishes. Does she have some kind of spatial pocket in that sleeve?
I’ve got one too, by the way. But I don’t clutter it with papers. I keep my most precious stuff there. My mother’s hat, because she told me never to go without it.
And there’s a valentine in there too. I suspect it’s from my mate. But how do I check? The barrier won’t let me out of here. If I’m right, we might never meet again. And we didn’t exactly part on good terms. She tore my valentine in half.
Why’s it so hot in here, though?
“Adept Tyan, do you feel how hot it is in here?”
“I’m always hot if it’s above 77 degrees. And cold if it’s below 75.”
“My condolences. So, how is it for you right now?”
“I’m cold.”
“No surprise there. With those holes and barely any fabric left. Your jumpsuit is practically just sleeves at this point. You’re so good at doubling and tripling things. Why not make yourself a new one?”
“I don’t know how to sew or patch, sir. I mean, I could make two jumpsuits. But they’d be identical. Holes and all.”
“Then the household magic department is exactly where you belong. They teach that kind of stuff there. But for now, go get yourself a uniform. It’s nothing fancy, but at least you won’t freeze. Only problem is, I’ve got nothing to write a note to the quartermaster on, since you’ve cleared all the papers…”
A sheet of paper floats down in front of me.
“You’re a treasure, adept. How did I ever live without you? You’ve brought me back to life…” I stop as I see the alarmed look in those wide eyes on her smudged, half-childish face.
Hmm. I’ve gone off track somehow.
“What I mean, Adept Tyan, is that with your enrollment as my secretary, the administrative side of my life looks a lot brighter. Nothing personal.”
She lets out a relieved sigh. For some reason, that stings a little.
“Here’s the note. Go get your uniform. The quartermaster will show you to your room. There’s not much to choose from. You’re pretty late. But I hope something works out.”
She silently nods to show she understands the instructions, takes the note, and leaves, quietly closing the heavy door behind her.
Man, those bitten nails. A clear sign of a neurotic temperament. And neglect. What kind of parents send a kid out into the world in a tattered jumpsuit, hungry?
Good thing Ruzhena doesn’t skimp on the academy cafeteria budget. At least this Tyan won’t go hungry or cold.
By the way, why’s it so cold in here now?
Oh, right. It’s October. Fall’s already here.
So, is he hot or cold? Make up your mind, buddy.
Who Adept Tyan meets on her way to get her uniform, and what comes of it, we’ll find out in the next chapters.
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