So I was strolling through the moonlit night, the twin crescent moons glistening like the last teeth in a hick’s head, the cobblestone pathway pocked like the rippling ass of someone saying “just one more slice”, and to my left was a woman. She smelled like a distillery covered in vomit, with matted hair that looked like it was dipped in dog shit and set on fire. She had tear streaks on her cheeks and was cackling like a crow mounting another, dying crow. Not the best first impression, but I’d found someone desperate enough that they could be trained as my apprentice.

Her crow mating ritual began to reach climax, and her cackles turned to gasps while her eyes stayed closed. As she entered the spooning/regret stage, she began muttering about “mum” and something called a “Kixi”, so I deftly manoeuvred her past the many dangers of the Guild’s courtyard using masterful hoverhand. Without her realising my heroism, we avoided puddles, benches, and in the gutter; Up-Chuck Charlie and exactly what you think Up-Chuck would leave behind.

As she began breathing normally again, she opened her eyes and I saw the light die in them like when someone snatches the final chicken wing. Ah, despair, now that’s something I could work with.

“So, whaddya say? Want in?”

“Want in with what?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow as she looked up at my mighty bowl, as it reflected the walkway lamps back into the sky like a beacon of hope. While she stared I grabbed the rim of my bowl and turned it away from her, but it did nothing, because it was a bowl. The feather drooped in front of my face as I leaned in close.

“Advanced lessons.” I muttered. “Literally the only thing we’ve spoken about.”

“What?” Her eyes opened wide before slamming shut like the shithouse door on curry night. “How?”

“That’s a yes.” I stated as I reached for one of her withered claws before simply lurching forward instead and picking up the pace. “Almost there.”

“Wait, almost where? Do you even know where you were supposed to take me, because this is nowhere near my room.” Snippy. She did have some bitch in her.

“We’re going on an adventure. Also, Runes.”

“I am not going a step further until you explain to me exactly where we are going. You are supposed to be escorting me to my d-”

“Not doing that.” I turned my head back to face her, “Come. If you’re found without me, my mummy will call your mummy and my dad will beat up your dad.”

She had already turned around and begun walking away toward the second-year dorms. With her head in the air and a thumb up her ass.

I was beginning to regret offering my services. She seemed high maintenance. Asking stupid questions like ‘Who are you?’ and ‘Where have you taken me?’.

“Runestones! I can save your Runestones.”

That got her attention. She swivelled back and looked me up and down before following along a few steps behind, about a whistle-blow's distance away.

It seemed as though she was trembling, surely with anticipation. I was taking her to one of my many hideaways. She didn’t need to know how many I had. We rounded a few more corners, bobbing and weaving through many poorly placed alleyways between buildings until we reached the backside of building 4-28E, a first-year dormitory. Its backside was built tightly against the cliffside but the building naturally shifted and moved deeper against the cliffside, sealing the entrances on the side. There were still cracks present to show the back of the wall, but the best entrance was a sizeable hole toward the bottom. Without looking back, I knelt down and began to scuttle sideways through the gap. With my skilful scuttling I reached my destination quickly, a doorway with no door, better known as a hole.

As I stood up in my lair I could hear the shuffling in my “hallway”, so I had time to prepare for my potential associate. I laid out a bath mat to welcome her through the door, shuffled the rats off from whence they came, and lit a cinnamon scented candle, because she had to be lying. Then I placed my most professional beanbag in the centre of the room’s dirt floor, and settled comfortably onto my favourite sitting bucket. Then I played the waiting game; generously wafting the scent of the cinnamon candle toward the entrance.

I saw the princess poke her head around the doorframe and peer around. Her body visibly cringed away from the wall and her lips curled as though she expected to catch syphilis from the air. Eventually she stood up in my doorway, coughing and spooking my spidery roommates. She was inside, and she came to get Runestones. If she were to blab now she’d be going down with me.

“Welcome Ra, have a seat in my office,” I pointed to my beanbag.

“My name is Sierra Rivergold,” she muttered with the kind of glare that says ‘sir, that seat is taken, can you not see my purse?’

“Yeah Ra, got it.”

This was followed by a pause that was not so much pregnant as just fat and awkward. She did not accept my beanbag.

“You said you could help me keep my Runestones.”

“Indeed!” I bellowed as I did a 180 on my bucket to face my desk. “Step into my workshop.”

I pulled another bucket out from underneath my work desk, grabbed a chisel from the shelf above me, and began shuffling through my drawers in search of gems. As she peered over my shoulder her eyes lit up at the sight of a series of gemstones that shimmered like sunshine through piss.

“Now, what stones were you busted for having?”

“I crafted the entire base set.” Her nose was still in the air. She continued to snub my beanbag.

“Ra, we both know what the base set is,” I do not know what the base set is. “Which ones did they see?”

“Well, I think he tested a Heat, Chill, Reservoir, L- ” she continued talking but I wasn’t really paying attention. The point was that she’d made a lottle, not a little.

“Riiiiight, write that down, we’ll go one at a time. Observe.”

I proceeded to hold aloft a beautiful ruby with only a few light scuffs, filled with hopes and dreams. I watched as her eyes tracked it back and forth, right before dropping it into the bucket I had placed near her feet. It was acid, and the stone hissed and squealed like a snail in salt.

“Why would you do that?” she shrieked in the fashion of a banshee on the rag. This upset my most trusted advisor.

Rrrrnnnnnngggh. Rrrrnnnnnngggh. Rrrrnnnnnngggh.

“It’s cool Maurice.” I continued rifling through my drawers in search of extra stones for the acid bath. “Ra’s just fragile.”

Rnnggh.

Her eyes darted to Maurice, ever so slightly to my left, on my desk under a hot lamp. Maurice is a cat. Well, less cat and more pile of hatred. He looks like a sausage that rolled under a cupboard and his skin feels like an old avocado. Maurice is great.

“What is that… thing?” she gestured vaguely in Maurice’s direction. As she leaned closer to my feline friend, her face shrivelled like a dick in a river.

Rrrrnnnnnngggh. Rrrrnnnnnngggh. Rrrrnnnnnngggh.

She reeled back, and I gave a reassuring pat to my folded pile of grey and questionable fuzz.

“Yeah, don’t touch him, eh?”

“What is it?”

“Cat.”

“How can you tell, and where is its head?”

“That’s a bit of a personal question,” I said with excessive indignation. Honestly, I could never tell, all the wrinkles just folded together.

“Ugh, how old is it?”

“Older than me,”

“And how old are you?”

“Younger than Maurice.” Before she could wound me with her rapier-like wit I began to hear a soft sizzling. “Hold up, cookies are done”. I knocked the bucket over with a tap from my boot and watched as the acid gave the floor the closest thing to a cleaning that it would ever receive. I reached down to grab the first stone and, just like me, that shit was hot.

“Damn, damn, shit, damn, damn, ass, damn, cold, got it.” Nailed it. I placed it on the table, grabbed the chisel, a bottle of plonk, and a began scratching away at the thing with an over, under, in-and-out, etcetera. After only five minutes I picked up the candle and drizzled a thimbleful of wax over the rune to quickly seal it in.

“Voila, next one coming up,” I droned, tossing the stone in Ra’s general direction.

“What is this abomination?”

“Heatstone.”

“No. It is not.”

Without turning around, I clawed at the air behind me for just long enough to feel awkward before I felt her drop the gem in my hand. I quickly rubbed at the wax covering the rune with my thumb as I poured a small portion of myself into the stone, feeling it grow warm in my hands.

“Seems fine. Hand please.”

“Nobody would believe I made this.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t even describe how far from adequate this is. I’d be surprised if it lasted more than ten activations.” The derision in her voice dripped like an egg sandwich.

“What.” Without even touching the ground I rotated on my bucket to stare up into her eyes, the arm holding the Runestone remaining pointed toward her face, like a clock with that moves its base. “WHAT.”

Rrrrnnnnnngggh.

“My Runestones were perfectly crafted. My record shows that my work is always exceptional. I dedicated months to those gems, and you expect me to hand in this piece of garbage?” Her arrogant fart-huffing was visibly inflating her ego.

“Excuse me princess, have you ever carved a Fourth-year Rune in under five minutes?”

“Of course not. Nobo-”

“Have you ever given away expensive-ass Runestones?”,

“No, I haven’t.” She sighed, releasing her freshly huffed farts.

“No, you haven’t,” I blew out the cinnamon candle. Bitch didn’t deserve it. “So unless you know someone else who can replace your Runestones by tomorrow, I suggest you plant your uptight ass on my beanbag.”

“This is ridiculous! I should have known this was impossible.” She spun on her heel. “I’m leav- UGH!”

RRRRNNNNNNGGGH!

Maurice had assumed the position.

“Good work Maurice.”

My fur sausage had appeared before the hole, blocking the exit. Maurice always believes in me.

“Please move your pet. I wish to leave.”

“Colleague. Maurice belongs to no one.”

“I really don’t care. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and my headache is worsening by the moment.” She clutched her temples. “I came to this creepy den for my Runestones, but I should have known it would be impossible for them to be saved. Especially by someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” I wanted to glare at her, but now I just felt exhausted in every possible way, besides, I still needed her.

“How exactly does you being a lazy, cheat of a student help me?”

“Nevermind. I shouldn’t have expected you to get it.” I’d show her some of what this lazy cheat could do. I placed the Heatstone on my work desk and trudged over to the beanbag. Unfurling the drawstring, I dumped the contents on the floor, masses of straw and dozens of Runestones rolling out. “See these?” Her eyes widened in shock and she bent down to pick one up.

“These are decent street market quality.” Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Where did you get them?”

“I made them. I know what I’m doing.” I mumbled as I returned to my desk.

“Why don’t I just use these?”

“Too good.” I picked the fresh Heatstone back up from my desk. “This looks like a first-timer's practice stone. Layers removed to practice, cheap test seal, barely functional.”

“So, I’m actually better than the fourth years?” She said with smug self-satisfaction.

“Nobody cares because you weren’t meant to make them. You also practiced on a ruby. No one does that.” I didn’t believe she was that good, and at this point I didn’t care.

“But the book said-”

“Look, bring these stones in. If they work, then you’ll owe me.” I muttered as I sat down, pulled out my bucket, the next stone, and lit a new, non-cinnamon candle.

“If they call me out, I’m telling them you stole my real ones.”

“Fine.”