Jestro slouched in his new throne as he threw his head back and moaned, “Ugh, this castle renovation is taking FOREVER! I get that castles are big, but this one can’t be any bigger than the King’s!”

The Book of Monsters ignored Sparkks accidentally smacking Burnzie with a slab of stone as he told Jestro, “Have some patience, kid. Knighton wasn’t built in a day.”

Jestro leaned forward as he replied, “Yeah, but Knighton’s a whole kingdom, and these are castle renovations. They’re not exactly comparable.”

“That’s not-!” The Book of Monsters let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, you gotta be patient. Evil is a long process - consider this… part of your trainin’ or somethin’. These sorts of things take time.”

As the Book of Monsters, or rather, the Bookkeeper, turned to face the renovating monsters, Jestro argued, “You make it sound so easy. Oh, just ‘be patient’! Who do you think I am; Monstrox?!”

The Book of Monsters cackled. “You’re not even close to bein’ like Monstrox yet, joke boy!” His voice lowered to an annoyed grumble as he added, “But you do kind of remind me of him back when he was trainin’ to be truly evil.”

Jestro sat up, straightening his back. “You knew about him even while he was training to be evil?” he inquired.

“Uhhh, yeah, you could say that!” the Book of Monsters replied. “I heard he used to be real impatient, just like you. He was a huge pain in the butt, but he got better. And by that I mean worse.” He finished his sentence with a private chuckle.

While carrying a large boulder, Burnzie bumped into a pillar holding up the ceiling. The boulder slipped out of his hands and landed on his foot, causing the large lava monster to howl in pain.

“How about you watch where you’re goin’ while carrying boulders, lava-for-brains?” the Book of Monsters loudly berated Burnzie. “For the love of monsters, I thought Sparkks was the blind one! Not you!”

Jestro tuned the Book of Monsters out as the latter continued to yell at Burnzie. It was just more of the same from him anyway. What the book had said to him earlier was much more interesting: Monstrox used to be impatient when he was training to be evil. The greatest threat to Knighton, the older evil he had heard so much about, used to be like him in some way. It was an interesting thought. Just how impatient did Monstrox use to be? What kind of things did he like? Was he gifted or did he fight for his power? Was he an avid studier or a more practical learner? …What caused him to go bad in the first place?

Just who was Monstrox?

---

“Mordrell Synodus, we have arrived at the Golden Castle,” the mechanical horse rider announced.

Mordrell had never smiled as wide as he was smiling in that moment. He slid off the mechanical horse he had approached the Golden Castle on, using his wooden staff as support so he wouldn’t fall over. He paid the rider, then waved him goodbye as he rode the mechanical horse back to the pick-up station.

Mordrell turned to face the glimmering castle looking over all of Knighton; the very same one that was home to the Wizards’ Council. Only the most talented and hard-working mages made it into the Wizards’ Council, and there they would dedicate their lives to magic.

And today, Mordrell would joining them.

Unable to contain his excitement, he sprinted towards the castle’s gates. He ran and he ran until he was forced to a halt by a pair of lances crossed together, blocking his entrance.

A guard to Mordrell’s left chided, “Who do you think you are, thinking you can just run up the castle gates like that? State your name and purpose.”

“Mordrell Synodus, I’m the newest member of the Wizards’ Council?” Mordrell snapped in reply.

The guard to the right of Mordrell questioned, “If you’re part of the Wizards’ Council, then why aren’t you” -they pointed to the Golden Castle- “in there?”

“Because,” Mordrell growled, “it’s my first day. I have the letter sayin’ I was chosen to join in my bag, and it also says there’s going to be a big welcoming party, and I do not want to miss the baked goods that were promised.”

The guards exchanged narrow-eyed glances. “Suuuuuure…”

As both guards returned their gaze to Mordrell, the one to his right told him, “You don’t look like a wizard that’d be part of the Wizards’ Council. You don’t even have facial hair.”

“What does facial hair have to do with it?!” Mordrell exclaimed.

From behind the guards, another voice asked, “Yes, what does facial hair have to do with it?”

The guards spun around and looked at the person who had joined the conversation. The one to Mordrell’s left stammered, “M-Merlok!”

And it really was Merlok - the blue robes, the staff that curved into a near-complete circle at its tip and the long, tied-up beard were unmistakable. He had an eyebrow raised at the guards, though only in curiosity rather than annoyance.

Mordrell straightened his back as a cold sweat enveloped him. “M-Merlok? Merlok! Hi!”

Merlok looked from the guards to Mordrell with a smile on his face. “And you would be Mordrell Synodus, correct?”

“Yes! I have the invitation le-”

Merlok raised his free hand, gesturing for Mordrell to stop talking. “There’s no need to get the invitation letter out, Krystopher Talbal already foretold you would be coming at this exact time.”

“He did?! He’d use his powers of divination to see somethin’ as… as small as what time I’d be arrivin’?” Mordrell gasped.

Merlok chuckled. “Mordrell, this is no small event! You’re about to be officially part of the Wizards’ Council; only the best of the best get this chance!” He raised both of his arms as he dramatically announced, “Open the gates!”

The two guards looked at Merlok, then at each other and shrugged. They turned the cranks at each side of the gates to slowly open them. Once they were completely open, Merlok turned around and motioned for Mordrell to follow.

Walking under the golden arches of the castle was just as magical as Mordrell had hoped it would be. The front doors of the castle swung open, revealing that the inside of the castle was just as extravagant as the tales told. From the velvet carpet, to the golden spiralling staircases and the lavish paintings depicting older times in Knighton, Mordrell was blown away by it all. He and his parents weren’t poor by any means, but they could have only dreamed of living in anything as fancy as the Golden Castle.

The halls were mostly empty - Mordrell assumed this was because the rest of the Wizards’ Council was gathered in the banquet hall - but the occasional knight waved to Merlok as they passed by. The halls seemed to stretch on forever in Mordrell’s excitement. Merlok had clearly noticed his struggle to hold in his excitement, as he assured him that there was only one more turn to make. Sure enough, there was.

Merlok swung the banquet hall’s doors open, revealing the rest of the Wizards’ Council gathered inside. They had hushed their banter as the doors opened and stared at Merlok and Mordrell. There was a long table sitting in the middle of the banquet hall, draped with a fancy cloth and covered end to end with mouth-watering food. Sitting in the center of it all was a giant, multi-layered cake. When the invitation letter mentioned baked goods, Mordrell assumed they meant biscuits and gingerbread, not that beautiful, beautiful cake!

“Everyone,” Merlok declared, “the newest member of our council has arrived!”

A chorus of cheers erupted from the other mages. Merlok looked over to Mordrell as he motioned towards the inside of the banquet hall. Mordrell immediately ran over to the cake. With a quiet chuckle, Merlok walked into the banquet hall, closing the doors behind him with a simple telekinetic spell.

As Mordrell admired the cake, the elderly witch to his left chuckled to herself before asking, “You certainly have your priorities in order, don’t you?”

“Yes! Yes I do,” Mordrell replied as he briefly glanced away from the gorgeous cake to address the witch who had spoken to him. Unlike any of the other mages in the room, she wore white robes with a snowflake pattern at the bottom.

“The knives, forks and plates are over there” -the witch pointed to the aforementioned utensils and plates- “and the cake is chocolate flavoured.”

Mordrell’s eyes lit up at the mention of chocolate flavour. He enthusiastically grabbed a knife, fork and plate, which earned another amused chuckle from the witch. No one at the table had ever seen someone cut a slice of cake and begin eating it as fast as Mordrell did. And given how fast he continued to eat it, it was safe to say he was enjoying it immensely.

“I’m glad your enjoying my cake so much, Mordrell,” the witch told him.

Mordrell’s eyes widened. “You made this?!” he asked through his last mouthful of cake. “It’s soooo good! Thank you, Mrs… uh…”

“Eira Jacks,” the elderly witch, Eira, replied. “Current Elemental Mage of Ice.”

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you, ma’am!”

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Mordrell glanced around the banquet hall, making sure no one else was looking, before cutting himself a second slice of cake. He looked around the hall a second time as he ate, taking note of the appearances of the other mages. Most of their hair had gone completely grey. They were probably bald, too, since many of them wore classic wizard hats. The younger mages, for the most part, looked to be at least 10 years older than him. Then, as his eyes followed Merlok as he made his own way around the room, he spotted her.

The only other person in the banquet hall who looked to be his age.

Mordrell finished his second slice of cake as he waited for Merlok to finish speaking to her. Once he did, Mordrell grabbed some sweets from a small bowl next to the cake and made his way over. The witch looked at him curiously as he stopped beside her.

“You’re the new guy?” she asked.

“Yup!” Mordrell replied, puffing his chest out a little.

“Oh cool! I figured, but I couldn’t actually see you from where I was. You’d be surprised at how tall some of the mages here are.” She paused for a brief moment before asking, “It’s Mordrell, right?”

“Mordrell Synodus!” he beamed. “What about you?”

“Wanda Moorington.” She sighed as she added, “AKA Merlok’s younger sister, and before you ask, no that’s not Merlok’s last name as well. It’s my husband’s.”

Mordrell frowned. “Is being Merlok’s sister all you’re known for ‘round here?” He knew that Merlok’s last name was a topic of discussion in the streets, but honestly, he never would have asked. He simply didn’t care about it.

“Not all,” Wanda replied, “but it’s what got me into the Wizards’ Council so early.”

“Oh.” There was a beat before Mordrell asked, “How old were you when you got in?”

“20.”

Mordrell was glad he wasn’t eating one of his sweets when she said that. “You can’t be much older than that now, can you?!”

“I’m 26.”

Mordrell’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at the floor in disbelief. “Gornzibarf the Great, you’re only a year older than I am,” he muttered.

There was a minute or two of silence between them as Mordrell nibbled on his sweets. Then a thought occurred to him.

He looked at Wanda again as he asked, “Do you know what happens after this?”

Wanda thought for a moment before replying, “Well, once everyone’s done, you’ll go see Krys in his study. He’ll give you your job here and some stuff to say that you’re officially part of the Wizards’ Council. For me, that happened around… three hours after the welcoming party started. And then after that it’s recommended that you take time to explore the castle and know where everything is. Everyone goes back to their towers at 9:30 at night.”

“ …Three hours?” Mordrell asked.

Wanda raised an eyebrow. “Yes? You’re supposed to get to know everyone here in that time.”

It was hard to describe just how upset Mordrell looked as he let out a groan of dread.

“They’re nice people, Mordrell!” Wanda exasperatedly told him.

“But three hours?”

“Yes!”

Another younger wizard - he looked to be in his mid-30s - standing just a few strides away from Wanda commented, “Don’t be upset. My welcoming party lasted six.”

Mordrell softly whined.

The wizard then added, “Oh, I’m Harlan, by the way! How’s it feel to be part of the Wizards’ Council?”

Right now? Not great. Mordrell predicted his legs would start to give by the end of the day. The very, very long day.