Alex waited by the stage station. He sighed, air puffing out into the cold like dragon's breath. Damien should have been here by now. The clock tower in the center of the city rang twice, and Alex jumped as a sending coincidentally came through at the same time.
Are you two on your way? I can’t get through to Damien. That boy better not have a ring of mind shielding on him.
That would be Damien’s mother.
Haven’t seen him yet, but I’ll go check in on him. We’ll be late for dinner, I’m afraid.
Alex sighed and slung his bag over his shoulder. It was a quick walk to Damien’s flat. Flat might be a stretch – university housing tended to cling to the most miserly definition of the word, regardless of one’s year. He climbed a flight of stairs and knocked. No response.
“Damien?” More knocks, followed by more silence. Alex tried the door. Unlocked. Lucky, but he knew where to find the spare key either way. He pushed the door in, a little uneasy. Alex had been worried about his friend these days. After his advisor had twisted and published his work, Damien’s outlook on life had shifted from melancholy to downright depressive.
Alex let out a sigh of relief, seeing Damien deep in a trance at his desk. The flat was barebones: to Alex’s right, a door led to a bathroom, this place’s only luxury. To his left, a dresser hugged the wall. A messy bed jutted out from the right wall a bit further in, littered with a half hearted attempt at packing. Directly across from Alex was a small stove for heat, the desk where his friend sat, and a small window with the curtains drawn shut. A kettle was on top of the stove, though fire had gone out, contributing to a light chill in the room, and stacks of papers and books were strewn across the desk and nearby floor space.
“Damien, it’s time to go,” Alex said as he crossed the short space to the dresser. He pulled out a few shirts and slammed the drawer closed with a loud bang. Damien startled awake, about falling out of the chair as he muttered what Alex could only guess were obscenities in undercommon.
“Alex?” Damien said groggily. “Wha– What are you doing in here?”
“Packing, apparently.” Alex shoved the shirts and the clothes on the bed into the half packed duffle. Then he went over and tore the curtains open. The clock tower was clearly visible from here. Fifteen past two. Damien’s eye bulged and he scrambled up.
“Oh, shit.” He took over hurriedly packing. “Gods, I’m sorry, Alex. I was up all night grading. Shit, I also have to turn in the final grades by today.”
“You’re always up all night. And it’s not me you have to worry about, it’s your mother. It seems that your vampiric sleep schedule has made her believe you have a ring of mind shielding.” Alex chuckled.
Damien groaned. “It’s not my fault she tries to send so early.” He buckled up the bag. “Ok, packed. What else...” He glanced down. “I should probably change. Right, I'll just be a minute.” He turned to the dresser again before Alex cast prestidigitation on him.
“No way I’m waiting in this stuffy room for another hour, Dami.”
Damien looked annoyed, how much was from the casting and how much was from the nickname was unknown.
“Regardless, I do have to drop off these papers, first. Then we can go. And grab coffee. There’s some on the way to the station.” He slid the bag over his shoulder and grabbed the stack of tests from the desk.
“You know, I heard someone at Kas is working on an endless iced coffee jug,” Alex said.
“Really? That sounds incredible.”
“Yeah, endless jugs with temperature control seem pretty revolutionary apart from the coffee part, too. Imagine the possibilities!”
“I'm mainly imagining coffee right now.”
The two hurried down the stairs, though Alex had to wait outside once the winter sunlight reminded Damien he had forgotten his sunglasses. Once he returned they carried on at a swift pace.
“Did you ever hear back from Dr. Wynfir?” Alex asked.
Damien’s frown deepened. “No, she never got back to me. Maybe it’s for the best... I mean, Waterdeep is so far.”
“The new train more than halves the time. Plus, any out from your current advisor would be good.”
“Maybe... She seemed interested when I interviewed. And she’s younger than the elvish professors here. There’s more drow students in their department, and they don’t have restrictions on magical affinity for graduate studies.” He shook his head. “Silverymoon is a great city, but this place is regressive.”
“Maybe she’s just slow to respond. Elf timelines, or something.” He put a reassuring hand on Damien’s shoulder.
“Maybe.”
They arrived at the college for arcane studies. It was a tall brick building in a classic style, but with obvious influence from newer architecture. The halls were dimly lit, as the break had just started. Five flights of stairs later, and they were in the department for theoretical magics. It was brighter here, as it was primarily filled with offices instead of classrooms. Damien led the way to an office hidden in the corner of the floor. A placard next to the door read:
Graduate Offices
Basil Day
Damien Simmyns
Basil was another student that had transferred a year after Damien started his studies under Dr. Edwards. Alex had met him once, he thought, but only briefly.
“How’s Basil doing these days?”
“Hmm?” Damien unlocked the door and pushed it in. “Haven’t heard from him in a while. Last I heard he was teaching in Darkon, of all places. Has a wife and two kids now.”
The office was dim and dusty. The dimness didn’t seem to bother Damien, though. There was a bookshelf along the far wall, two desks in the middle of the room, and yellowing posters covering the other walls. Alex sat in the chair of what was obviously Damien’s desk.
“Don’t they ever clean in here?”
“Once a year, I think. I just take the trash out to the disposal in the hall.” The drafty sound of the building’s central furnace kicked in. Damien grabbed a thin notebook from his desk and rolled his eyes seeing that his spot had been taken. He took the notebook and sat at the other desk, writing in the grades from the stack of papers one by one.
“I thought you were against grades,” Alex chimed in after a few minutes.
“I am. Departmental requirements. They want a graded midterm and final, at least. I average that with the percentage of pass / fails on the other assignments, usually.”
“You sound like an easy teacher, I’d take your class for the A,” Alex joked.
Damien, in turn, winced. “My advisor reprimanded me last semester. Said my reviews complained the class requirements ‘weren’t clear enough.’ It’s Intro to Metamagics, sure, the theory is easy to gauge with a number, but half of the class is about exploring different applications and research areas... I think some of the students just don’t want to do the class presentations and lab demonstrations.”
“I think you get bad reviews because you don’t give extra credit.” Alex smiled. He liked playing the lazy student. Damien looked unamused and went back to calculating grades. The distant clock chimed the hour, and shortly after Damien stood, completed grades in hand.
“I just have to pass these on, then we can go.” As he opened the door, an older professor stood on the other side, hand also on the doorknob.
“Ah, Mr. Simmyns, glad to see you finally came in today.” His smile was as sharp as his eyes. His thin gray hair was as disheveled as his suit. The older man once would have towered over Damien, but age and a hunch brought him nearly to Damien’s level.
“Dr. Edwards,” Damien said in surprise. “I was actually just on my way to the department head to turn in the finalized grades.”
“I see. Well, if you will just hand them over I can turn them in on the way back to my office.” He held out his hand and Alex watched as Damien almost instinctually passed the notebook over. Alex was convinced that his friend’s advisor could have asked for Damien’s own head on a platter and in that moment Damien would have instantly complied. “Your reviews came in, by the way. Satisfactory overall, though reviews on your lecturing have dipped. You know I’m too busy to directly supervise your classes, but you could always utilize my old class materials if creating your own is proving too taxing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Hmm, I would have expected more of a response from our foremost arcane education student. Though I suppose you have switched your focus back to more pure theory. Regardless, do keep it in mind.” His eyes flickered over to Alex for the briefest of moments before returning back to Damien. “Have any plans for the winter break?”
Damien cleared his throat. “Yes, actually, I’m leaving today to visit my family. I’ll have my notes with me. I’m hoping to work on some writing while I’m there.”
“Oh, so you intend to take the full break?”
“Uhh, I mean, I can come back early if there’s something I need to be here for.” Damien rubbed the back of his neck, nervous.
“I wasn’t trying to make you change your plans, Mr. Simmyns. It’s your thesis, afterall. Just remember the journal deadline is coming up in less than two months.”
“Right...” Damien looked down.
“Oh, one other thing before you go. I spoke with Dr. Wynfir recently.”
“You did?” Damien’s gaze jerked back up, at attention.
“Yes, I didn’t know you had interviewed with her. Thinking about transferring again?”
“Well, I–” Damien began but his advisor cut him off.
“Regardless, I gladly answered her questions. She was very cordial. Did you hear back from her at all?”
“No, no I haven’t... What did you tell her?” Damien’s voice teetered between anger and dismay.
“Oh, the usual. She wanted to know about your research, your work style, your temperament, if you had any external funding, etc. Very standard things.”
“...And what did you tell her?” Damien’s voice shifted more towards desperation.
“The truth, obviously,” Dr. Edwards chuckled. “But Damien, I think the problem here may be more simple than you want to believe. I don’t mean to sound overly harsh, but even before I took you on you interviewed with, what? Five or so professors in this college alone? Now, I took you on because I can see your potential, but to truly build that potential requires a team spirit and open communication. I think that’s what’s hindering you. Like with this Dr. Wynfir. If you want to transfer, fine, but you should have at least told me, so I could have prepared for my chat with her. You’re never going to get out of here doing things like that under my nose. It doesn’t look good on either of our academic reputations.”
“I’ll– I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Right, good man,” Dr. Edwards' smile returned and he clapped Damien on the shoulder. “I’ll see you after the new year, then.” He nodded towards the two and left, closing the door behind him.
Damien collapsed back into the office chair and held his face in his hands. The air from the heat vent suddenly stopped, drowning the room in silence.
“What in the Nine Hells was that?” Alex asked in disgust.
“Well, this explains why Dr. Wynfir never got back to me,” Damien muttered, ignoring the question. “I knew that was going to backfire.”
“Damien, you have to get away from that guy. I don’t care if you have to drop out and become a janitor. He’s just using you as a substitute teacher and data generator.” Alex stood up and collected his things. Damien still sat with his head down.
“I asked to do supervised teaching.”
“Yeah? But where’s the supervised part?”
“Let’s just go before he comes back.” Damien stood as well and gathered his bag and notes.
They made it to the stage station, coffee in hand, just in time for the last coach to their destination. Damien’s family lived a town over, technically, though it was barely an hour by horse away from Silverymoon proper.
“Round trip or one way?” The ticketmaster asked them.
“Round trip,” Alex chimed in.
“Actually, one way for mine, please.” Damien interjected.
“You’re not seriously thinking of coming back early, are you?” Alex asked, turning to face his friend.
Damien shrugged. “I mean, I do have a lot to do before that deadline. Maybe I won’t focus as well at home.”
“I can’t believe this! Can you believe this?” Alex asked the ticketmaster, who just shrugged in indifference.
“Listen, just because it’s one way doesn’t mean I’ll come back early. It just leaves the option open.”
“Not happening. Two round trip tickets. It’s cheaper, anyway.”
Damien sighed. “Fine, fine. Whatever. I just want out of here.”
Tickets bought, they squeezed into the carriage, glad to be out of the chill wind. Alex plopped down with a massive sigh of relief, draping his arms across the back of the seat and lounging back. Damien settled in beside him. Juniper appeared across from Damien once the carriage started moving. The big fluffy dog panted and gazed up at Damien.
“Yeah, yeah,” Damien muttered and pet the dog until he started sneezing uncontrollably.
“I still don’t believe you’re allergic to him,” Alex said, cracking an eye open.
“Oh yeah? Then why am I sneezing?” He sniffled.
“Jun’s a familiar. You can’t be allergic to familiars, it doesn’t make any sense. You should know that.”
“Alex, please–” He burst into another fit of sneezes.
Alex sighed. “Fine, fine.” He dismissed Juniper who then reappeared as a hairless female cat. “Better?”
“Thank you.” Damien was still wiping his eyes and nose and Juniper hopped into his lap. “Gods, my mother is going to be pissed with how late we are.”
“The benefits of not being her actual child,” Alex said sitting up, “is that I don’t have to face her wrath. I only get her undying love and threats of death if anything happens to you.”
Damien rolled his eyes. “Let’s just hope we don’t get delayed. I may not make it back at all if she kills me first.”