Cpt L. Dubois

In every story ever told, whether it be real or fantastical, you will find a villain. The best of stories have villains that excite and haunt us at every remembrance. Others have perplexed us, plaguing us with metaphysical questions and moral dilemmas. Some villains are so wonderful, or so wicked, that the hero is a slight memory against the cape of his antagonist. Other times, the villain goes against the hero with such a wonderful tension that all the rest of a tale is suddenly unimportant. There are bad guys, misunderstood geniuses, wicked witches, and calculating totalitarians. Even in the midst of a horrid, boring story, a grand antagonist can emerge. However, there is no good story with a bad villain.

This story's villain is, I think, rather unique. Some villains are quiet, others austintatious. Midnight lurkers, cheery sociopaths, gothic sorcerers, and flamboyant generals all come with each their own style and tone. They appear suddenly, or slowly, or never appear at all. With great verve their authors introduce them, shrouded in symbolism and rich with emotion. My villain, would not at all appreciate such in entrance.

He is a machiavellian schemer who delights in the pragmatic. His tones are sharp and clear. Educated fully, in the way that people aren't educated anymore; his studies were of every aspect of life and living. Precise as a water clock, this man never forgets to shave nor to starch his collar. He is fit and lean, nimble and lithe as a cat. His prefered introduction is to put him in his proper place. He is a villain as I have described, a hostile soldier, astride a unicorn.

His name is Captain Louis Dubois.

A first person experiment

Blue light flashed in defiance of a waning sun. A crimson aura surged forth across the open plain. I set my stance and prepared myself; thirty paces away my opponent did the same.

She lunged forward, hurling another lightning javelin from the tip of her wand. I again leapt aside and sent a fireball as a counter attack. A restraining spell served as my follow up. She blasted it apart with enough strength to send most of the energy at me. Without time to dodge, I dispelled the attack with a ward. She pressed the offensive laying in a dozen quick strikes forcing me to tumble out of the way.

At the first opening I tried for a disarm. She dodged it with a snappy alteration. We locked eyes and as one raised our wands in front of our faces. The gathered crowd leaned forward in the stands. All knew that we had felt each other out; the real dueling was about to begin.

This was going to be a very close duel. We were both powerhouses, the top mythril class. I was a mixed duelist, using both magic and agility. She followed an offensive tactic of overwhelming the opponent with a high volume of spells. Normally this wouldn't be an issue, except she could put a lot of strength behind each of her spells. I couldn't relax my guard for a moment.

Unfortunately, I already had. During my analysis I was slightly distracted; my opponent noticed. In the span of a wink I was on the receiving end of a hail of spells, different ones too. Half of them exploded against my ward, a few twisted through the air toward me, the rest were a mix of ice and lightning darts.

She might have won right then if my reflexes had been just a little slower. Without thinking I doubled my ward and zig-zaged forward. I tried to deflect the spells back at her, but there were too many. I was forced to stay on the defensive. I turned my effort back to my ward, and had an idea.

I planted my feet in a weaver stance and reached out my wand toward my opponent. As I did, I pushed out my ward, curving it around my adversary. She looked confused at first, then as my ward got closer she understood. To defend herself, she cast a ward of her own to try and undo mine. I held firm, tightening my ward around her as closely as I could.

Light erupted where the two wards met. There was a smattering of applause from the audience as we held each other in check. Then I had another idea. Once I released my support, my ward was quickly eaten away. But it gave me the time to quickly conjure a long chain and animate it to bind my fellow duelist.

It reached her just before she resumed her overwhelming assault. As my chain entangled her arms and bound her legs, I launched another disarming spell. With a blast she deflected my spell, then disintegrated the chain. Our next attacks met mid-air with a forceful explosion

I picked myself up and wiped the sweat off my brow. An orb of energy rushed at me, no time for a war. I swung out my wand and directed the attack to my right. I dropped to one knee, finish this NOW! I told myself. I couldn't afford to redirect another spell. I bellowed and from my wand emerged a wide blast of raw essence. The blast destroyed a hastily cast ward and knocked back my opponent. I raised my wand, my next spell ready in mind. Then I heard it, "Yield! I yield." I won the duel.

The crowed applauded, an announcement was made that I, Arminius Traffurd, had won by disarming my opponent with a wand inversion. I got up onto my feet and staggered over to congratulate my opponent on a brilliant duel.

"That was very well done," I helped her to her feet.


"Thank you," she said in kind, accepting my extended hand. "You are a duelist of many surprises. I can count on one hand the number of times one of my spells has been redirected."

"I practice many unusual maneuvers," I explained. "And it's a good thing too! If not for that, you'd have had me from the start."

She nodded politely and stiffly began to walk off the dueling platform. "It was a pleasure dueling you." She smiled glancing back.

I smiled.

"You as well Miss Katarina," I limped off of the platform to accept congratulations from the duel's sponsors.

Intro Anselm prt. 3

“I don’t think so,” Arminius answered. “You are a wizard the likes of which I have never encountered. You are at least as powerful as me, but I have nowhere near your skill or detail.” Anselm quietly bowed his thanks. “Do you have anything to say Mira?”

        “Yeah, if you don’t hire him you’ve gone crazy.” Mira sassed. “Anselm,” Mira looked him in the eye. “If you can do all this without apparent effort, then I look forward to seeing the things you consider hard.”

        “Thank you, Professor Valithiano. . .”

        “Don’t call me that please,” Mira interrupted. “If we’re going to work together you should start calling me Mira.”

        “Hold on a moment,” Arminius interjected. “I don’t remember hiring Mr. Falioth.”

        “If I may, Principal Traffurd,” Anselm replied. “I am the most qualified applicant you have received. I’m likely the best magic theorist your school will have for many years. Short of an inability to write a charms curriculum there is nothing to stop you from hiring me.” Anselm paused to allow Arminius a word, but he didn’t say anything. “We also both know I’ve already started drafting a curriculum for charms because I sent you my draft so far. It is still, of course, your decision. But you had made that decision the moment I transfigured that block of wood. Am I correct?”

        Arminius let forth a ringing laugh. “I had almost forgotten that you were a noble.” He smiled. “Your politics are spot on. I think I’m starting to like you already. You have the job.”

        “Thank you Principal Traffurd, I accept your offer.”

Intro Anselm prt. 2

For the next two hours the two wizards stayed locked in conversation. For each question Arminius gave, Anselm returned a detailed answer, often adding gestures to expound upon small variances in theories. When Arminius began to use elvish, Anselm replied in kind without a moment’s hesitation. As they went on, Anselm began to expound upon small variances which Arminius had only been vaguely aware of. Soon, Arminius was so intrigued by the sheer minutia of Anselm’s knowledge that the principal left off asking questions and listened with rapt attention to the theorist’s explanations.

        They might have gone on indefinitely had Mira not entered the office.

Anselm rose and twisted in fluid motion. He bowed with a flourish. “Good afternoon, milady. Am I correct in supposing that you are Mira Valithiano professor of transfiguration?”

        “Well, yes. And you’re Anselm.” He gave a nod. “What are you two up to?”

        Arminius answered from his desk. “I was just listening to Anselm expounding on Greacus’s theory on psychic barriers. So, I suppose your interruption is perfectly timed.” Arminius rose and looked at Anselm. “We’d best move on to the next part of your interview.”

        “I look forward to the challenge.”

        “I’m coming along,” Mira chimed in. “I’d like to see how this goes.” Anselm raised his eyebrow, but said nothing.

        The three made their way to the classrooms on the lower level of the East wing. It was a short way, but that did not stop Mira from inquiring after Anselm’s artistic sense. As it would happen the applicant had a small wealth of artistic knowledge from his experience in high society. Mira was very pleased to discover this facet of Anselm, and for his part Anselm endeared Mira to him somewhat. Then they arrived at what would be Mira’s class room. Set at the center of the open room was a table laid with several items.

        Arminius strode up beside the table. “This shall be your next trial. I’d like you to identify the items on the table.” This was Principal Traffurd’s chance to see if Anselm’s spellcraft was as impressive as his resume would suggest. Mira also approached the table to see Anselm in action. Anselm, for his part, looked skeptically at Arminius; but, without a word he approached the table.

        Lowering his glasses, Anselm Falioth gazed down at the first object, a ball of bronze wire. He lifted it in his hand. “This is a duelist sphere. It is enchanted to collide with a target and deliver a slight jolt. They are used to train evasion techniques.”  He shifted over to stand in front of the next item. The item was a paintbrush. After a minute scrutinizing it closely through his glasses, Anselm set it back down. “This one is not enchanted at all.” He glanced at Mira and Arminius. “It has however picked up a large amount of essence residue making it look enchanted. I expect it belongs to you Professor Valithiano, the handle seems about the right fit for you.

        “Well spotted.” Was Mira’s only comment. Arminius said nothing.

        Anselm continued in his trial. The next item was a small red bloodstone. This one Anselm held before his eyes, twisting it in the light and giving it an experimental toss or two. “This is an atronach stone,” he squinted, “correction, this was an atronach stone. It hasn’t been useful for several years. It is also old, so old it is beyond refurbishing. It is now completely useless.” He set it back down. “It was for an elemental atronach. Based on the color of the stone one would expect a flame atronach. However, the enchantment is for a wind atronach.” Arminius made a non-committal sound. Anselm picked up the final item at the end of the table.

        He rolled the inkwell pen between his fingers. “This was recently enchanted. Within the last few weeks I’d say. It writes diction, that much is clear but there is something else.” Anselm raised it to eye level. “A mental link, in order to alter formatting. I imagine this would be very helpful in filling out forms.”

        Mira let out a low whistle. “You are good.”

        “Indeed,” Arminius concurred, even though he was disappointed not to see any of Anselm’s spellcraft. “You did it as fast as anyone, but you didn’t use a wand.” He made eye contact with Anselm. “How did you do it?”

        Anselm pushed up his glasses and tapped the side of the frame. “I have an enchantment on my glasses. I can selectively see spellcraft. This allowed me to read the enchantments.”

        Arminius nodded. “Impressive.” Mira shook her head, but did not say anything. Anselm had performed above any expectation, doing more without a wand than most did with a wand.

        The principal turned to the door. “There is one more thing I’d like to see today. A brief demonstration of your abilities.” He led the way to a door at the far end of the classroom. “Right this way,” he said as he led out into the courtyard.

        “I fear Principal Traffurd does not approve of my methods.” Anselm confided in Mira.

        “He approves plenty,” Mira replied. “He was just expecting to see your spellcraft. Personally, I think your way was more impressive than using spellcraft.”

        “Thank you, I appreciate your kindness Professor Valithiano.” With that Anselm exited to the courtyard followed by Mira.

        “A quick test of your transmutations.” He pointed at a block of wood on the paving stones. “”Transmute that into a brick.”

        Anselm politely nodded and drew from his suit a pale slender piece of wood with a curve at the mythril bound handle. He pointed the end of the rose wand at the indicated piece of wood. Arminius blinked and leaned forward. Anselm had indeed transmuted the block into a clay brick, but he had also altered it to the correct size. However, what really impressed Arminius was the sheer speed of the spells. There had been no visual process, no changing, nor any shrinking. The wood block simply was a brick now, no transition at all. Arminius could perform such spellwork, but it was enough to dispel his disappointment.

        Anselm held his wand loosely in his hand in a ready position at chest level. “What else would you like me to demonstrate?”

        This brought Arminius out of his daze. “Yes, I wish to see your conjuration.”

        “What did you have in mind?” Anselm inquired.

        “Something practical,” He paused. “A cloak, conjure a cloak.”

        In perfect form, Anselm raised his hands over his head and brought them down with a decided swish. A brown hooded cloak fluttered into existence in front of them. Anselm caught it and passed it to Arminius. It was of high quality, made of wool and had an emerald green trim running along the bottom. An impressive object for such a short notice conjuration. “I’m impressed. Outside of my teachers, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a quick conjuration have so much quality. I’m sure your enchanting is phenomenal.” He gave Anselm a quick smile. “But how about showing me an animation.” Arminius thought a moment. “Any ideas Mira?”

        Mira had been standing back, watching and studying Anselm’s technique. She responded by saying “Have it go around the courtyard and then fold itself.”

        “Two in one,” Arminius raised his eyebrows. “Are you up to it?” He asked of Anselm.

        In answer, Anselm flicked his wand at the cloak. It went up from Arminius’s hands, and walked a circuit of the courtyard using its corners as feet. Mira and Arminius looked on with interest as the cloak stopped in front of Anselm and collapsed into a neat square of folded fabric. “Will there be anything else?” Anselm modestly asked.

        Both Mira and Arminius took this moment to evaluate Anselm. He was still slouching, and wore a polite small smile of satisfaction in his work. Each of his spells he had undertaken in a very matter-of-fact way. Mira concluded that Anselm held no pride in his power. Arminius concluded that Anselm enjoyed a challenge to his prowess. 

Intro Anselm prt. 1

        A coach pulled up to the manor and deposited its passenger. The man had never been to Ithalreal before, as other job applicants had, but rather had arrived just that day for an interview with the principal. He wore a casual tweed suit, slouches, and had brown, floppy hair; he was a stark contrast to the others who had come before. After tipping the driver an unusually large amount of money, he strolled up to the door, seemingly in deep thought, his mouth moving in unspoken words. He rang the bell politely.

        Arminius heard the doorbell, and began to prepare his office to interview the new applicant. He looked back over Anselm’s resume to refresh his memory. The gentleman’s name was Anselm Falioth, he was from a wizard family, a noble family at that. Anselm was trained at the Valio School, and was a wand maker. This last part, Anselm being a wand maker, was the real reason for even considering this late applicant. Wand makers were few, and all of them were expert magic theorists, a fine addition to any wizarding school. Arminius hurriedly stowed the resume away in its file, and positioned himself at his desk ready to make an impression. As much as it was an interview, it was also, to Arminius’s mind, a recruitment.

        There was a polite knock at the door, to which Arminius said “enter,” as he rose to greet Anselm. The housekeeper ushered Anselm in, and Arminius was taken aback at Anselm’s appearance: modest clothes, wire-rimmed glasses, an unremarkable bowtie, and the one piece of expense was nothing more than a mythril chain, presumably attached to a pocket watch. Then Arminius noticed his mannerisms and was again surprised; he was quite tall yet walked with a slouch, had large hands yet held them delicately together, his hair was neat but not immaculate, and yet despite these things, his eyes were quick and left the impression of seeing every detail. Arminius revealed neither reactions. The two shook hands.

        “Good morning Mr. Falioth, how are you this fine day?” Arminius said.

        “Good morning indeed, Principal Traffurd. It is a pleasure to be here, the front grounds are works of art, I can think of few places else I would prefer to be.” Anselm courteously replied.

        Arminius hesitated, still unsure of what to make of this modestly dressed and nobly spoken individual. Anselm perceived the hesitation and glided over it with professional form.

        “I found especially pleasing the attention to detail in the restoration which is underway, it speaks highly of your abilities as an administrator.”

        “Thank you,” Arminius said, thankful for Anselm’s evading an awkward pause. “Please have a seat, we’ll begin at once.”

        Anselm acquiesced with a nod, and lowered himself into a chair.

        “I, of course, reviewed your resume. Tell me more about your position on Valio’s demonstration team.” Arminius began.

        “My position on the demonstration team was mostly dedicated to solo performances. In part because of Valio’s minute student body. The other part being my background and training as a noble. Few outside of those circles have received the same training in etiquette and poise.”

        “I see.” Arminius had hoped that he would reveal some idea of his skill as a wizard. “Most of the questions I would ask you, you have already answered in your letters and resume. Except for one. Why would you want to teach? You’re qualified as a magic theorist, and you’re a wand maker.”

        “Wand making is more of an art than a repeatable craft. I would find myself short of ideas before much time had elapsed.” Anselm took a breath. “As for leaving a career in magic theory, that reason is of a personal nature.” He straightened his glasses. “My desire to teach stems from my wish to share my understanding of wizardry. From the elemental barriers, to emotional transference and mental depositing. I have possessed innate prowess in wizardry from the beginnings of my training and I would want that ability reinvested into other wizards.”

        Arminius nodded. He had guessed as much about Anselm. Though, he did still wonder about Anselm’s wizardry. “Would you mind my asking a few questions to establish your ability to explain theory?” Anselm gave a slight bow of acceptance.

        

Intro Mira, prt 2

        The two friends and coworkers, with the attentive aid of their cabbie, chose a quiet pub in the merchant district. It was a typical affair for Strouton, plain wood planks, tarred shingles and a couple of brick smokestacks. The interior, however, was cool and inviting to private conversations.

        “The mansion has more space than we will need for years,” Arminius began having ordered his meal. “There are a few rooms that I don’t think were even touched when the manor was converted. Not only that, the grounds cover half a square mile, all of it enclosed by the fence.”

        “It sounds lovely, it really does. Are you sure you won’t tell me how you got the job?” Mira said, voicing again the question she had been holding in the back of her mind.

        “I told you, politicking, and making deals with the right people. The details are something you shouldn’t know.” Answerd Arminius, taking a sip of Stroutons famed apple and pear cider.

        “Why, would I be killed for such knowledge?” Mira said full of her normal good humor.

        “Perhaps, most probably by me” Arminius chortled.

        They talked about this and about that, from rising duelists to the deadlines for lesson plans. The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their smoked trout, a savory favorite of Cornell. Talking quickly resumed and before long the food was a thing of the past and Strouton’s wizards were once again back at Ithalreal, talking away in the magically clean sitting room.

        “When they refitted the mansion as a school, they altered a lot of things to make it more academic. I’d like to undo some of that as we clean up, give it back some of its grandeur.”

        “Arminius, you had better be planning on doing some of that yourself. I’ll be busy too once I start with my plans and lessons.”

        “Oh I am, I’ve already done a some of it, just to allow me to try and hire some staff.”

        “How is that going, by the way?” Mira asked.

        “I have many applications, the locals seem quite pleased with the idea of having an academy again. I’ll be starting interviews tomorrow, for the positions of housekeeper, groundskeeper and cook, if I can hire them by the end of the week we’ll be in good shape to start planning for the semester.”

        “Good, I’d love to get down to the fun stuff.” Mira smiled.

        “I have heard you say many things before Mira, but never did I think you would consider making lesson plans fun.”

        “Well, there are only so many paintings to paint before one looks forward to one’s true job.”

        “Fair enough, though I feel just the opposite right now. It’s been an age since I last saw a duel, or even better a tournament.” Sighed Arminius.

        “Perhaps once the work is done and before the students arrive,” Mira yawned, “in the mean time, I’m going to take advantage of that bedroom you mentioned, fifth door on the right, right?”

        “Fifth on the left.” Arminius corrected.

        “Yeah, goodnight.” Mira left the room.

Intro Mira, prt 1

Introducing Mira

        Arminius sat in his newly claimed office, eyes shut allowing the warm sunbeams to enter through the window and soothe his tense shoulders. A morning’s worth of completed forms were stacked neatly on the corner of his grand desk, while a much larger stack waited at his right hand. He exhaled slowly, psyching himself up for a renewed start at his paperwork. Years of study and practice in nearly every form of wizardry had done little to brace him for the copious amounts of writing he was now required to do. The one comfort his training afforded him was that his hand was free of cramping, as he had enchanted his pen to take diction.

        Opening his eyes, he placed an unfinished form in front of him, and drew his wand from a pocket of his jacket. With a small gesture to his newly bought, but already worn, pen it stood at attention, hovering near the top of the fourteenth section of the Academy Recompense Form.

        “Number of students, not available. Primary residence, Calcibar Manor, Strouton Cornell province. Not available, not applicable, no, no preferred method . . . .“ Such did the day progress for Principal Arminius Traffurd. In fact, nothing changed, save for the name of the legal form, until the sun had hid itself behind the west wing of the manor, behind Arminius. It was at that point that there was the slight jingling of bells, announcing the arrival of a much anticipated person.

        The person in question, had arrived in Strouton only that afternoon, coming in by the most direct train from the Royal City, which still made three stops along the route. Her name is Mira Valithiano, daughter of Jordan and Miranda Valithiano, silver class duelist and dabbling painter. As she stood at the entryway, one of many summer breezes blew past, forcing her billowy clothes against her frame and nearly undoing her loose bun. At a glance, one would not take her to be a wizard rather the opposite would come to mind, most wizards being fond of plain appearances and calm demeanors, Mira seems rather contrary to the mold. It is a comment her dower, wizardly mother never fails to tease on.

        The door opened, seemingly of its own will, and Mira took her entry into the foyer.

        “Welcome to Ithalreal, Professor Valithiano!” Arminius called down to her from the balcony which ran across were the second story would be.

        “It’s a pleasure to be here, Principal Traffurd!.” Mira replied, “Or at least it will be when cob webs aren’t framing each and every corner “

        “I thought with your artistic sense you would see past that to what this place could be,” retorted Arminius.

        Mira raised her eyebrow, “ahuh, in other words you want me to do the cleaning?”

        “I’m drowning in papers, and forms, and reports and job applications, I’ve done nothing else all day,” explained Arminius. “In fact, I’ve not even eaten. I know you just arrived, but how do you feel about going back into town and catching up over dinner?”

        “I feel like if I smell coal smoke from one more train I’ll swear off anything but horses. Still, if that’s the option for dinner, let’s be off before I get comfortable.”