Some folks have double lives. They go to work, or school, or whatever, and they’re different than they are at home. Then, they come back and the cycle repeats. When they go to bed, they y down and wonder which one is the real them. The worker, the student, the friend, the family?

  Those suckers don’t even know how complicated it can get.

  You’re Rumpelstiltskin the pimp and a former pirate captain. And you’re Rampant the lead journalist and hidden boss of Hacksonville.

  Most of all, you’re Quinn, powerful Lust Demon of your own pne, party freak, freaky momma, dicky daddy, cunny connoisseur, and patron of over a hundred lost souls and the spawn you share with them.

  But only at night.

  By day, you’re the meek high elf with a little bit of innate holy magic, Scarlet Lily. A cleaning dy dressed like a nun, paying for csses with your work. You get up before dawn to clean the 9 o’clock tower, working up the floors over the course of several hours. It’s a bit depressing to climb every floor and find nearly every room unused.

  Well, it makes it easier to clean. At first you splurged using holy magic. Now you save energy by using the wind and water arcane spells you’ve learned. Aside from Star and occasionally Paragon Jesper, you don’t encounter people regurly in the tower.

  Every now and then, some bare-bones css meets up in one of the cssrooms, or a group of desperate students use a room to study together before a test. You’re surprised when you spot them, and they’re surprised to see you before you shut the door and scurry away.

  Normally, you’d leave without a word to avoid drawing attention.

  Today, you stuck around to talk. It was a small css headed by a centaur, History of the Pins Tribes. Six students, with one snoozing in the corner. Hardly worth the trouble.

  But…You couldn’t help yourself! The centaur teacher had a huge dam of DESIRE roiling behind her toned fnks. Not as much as Star, sure. The dhampir was trained to deal with her impulses, though.

  Miss Tenderhoof definitely wasn’t.

  When you found her, she was teaching the same chapter for what was apparently the third time. It was clear to you that her DESIRE was leaking through the ECS. Not enough to break it, but enough to have an effect. She was distracted by the strange sensations. And you were distracted by her huge tits and cute horse ears.

  So, you talked to her. Miss Tenderhoof was confused about her mood swings and memory pses. You kept your cover too! You applied some holy magic to calm her DESIRE, rather than let it shape you and fuck her in front of her students. And if you sipped a teensy bit of the DESIRE that leaked through her, as a little snack, nobody would really care.

  Right?

  “Scarlet Lily to the main office.” A robotic voice buzzes from one of the intercom crystals hovering in the hallway.

  You wince. There’s the other shoe dropping.

  Best get there fast, then. The main office is on the first floor, and you’re on the thirtieth. You look down the spiral staircase…could you?

  You spray frost on the railing. It’s one of the new spells you’ve learned. You test it.

  Slippery.

  You giggle and hop on, shooting ice in front of you to yer the railing in ice as you zoom down the spiral staircase. Every three floors you make a big jump across the open-air entrances, occasionally doing flips for style points.

  At st, you nd on the first floor and pose for appuse. There’s none.

  You may be getting a bit too used to having people cheer you on for your greatness. At least you’re going to someone who’s going to immediately humble you. You stride through the empty main office and make your way to the only personal room. You open the door without knocking and casually wave.

  Dean Sher’khan is sitting at the old desk, mumbling as he reads a thick grimoire. He waves you to the rickety seat in front of him. You settled down, uncomfortably moving your thick vestments around.

  “Do you know why I called you, Miss Lily?”

  “Because I’ve been acing my csses and you want to reward me…?” You smile sheepishly.

  Your magic pcement exams came back the other day. Marked ‘Skilled’ in nearly every category. Several grades higher than most incoming students.

  “Not quite.”

  The door locks behind you and magic fills the room. Uh-oh. Wait, you know that spell. That’s the one that blocks all information from leaving the area. Now that you know more, you could probably reverse-engineer it. Something about filling an area with your magic—

  “I’ve noticed an…intrusion. A strange feeling, like I was being watched.”

  Oh.

  Last night, you experimented with the Astrologer’s Tower. You wanted to see if you could spy on people without relying on the seeing eyes. The gadgets are efficient, but they’d get noticed immediately in Camelot.

  Sooooo you spied on your favorite wizard.

  You only got a few boring seconds of footage before Sher’Khan flicked his hand and the feed cut off. Along with a big portion of your magic reserves.

  “I was testing something out.” You’re hoping you could watch over your spawn in Camelot.

  “Be wary, strange things happen to those who look where they shouldn’t.”

  You nod. Lucy implied that you could use the Astrologer’s Tower to spy on other pnes…including where you came from. You’re not dumb enough to even try looking ‘outside’, let alone at Earth or wherever the fuck your home reality was called.

  “If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”

  Sher’khan stares at you in surprise. His soul wiggles around in delight and he commits that tidbit to memory. The more you interact with him, the more you realize that his fvor of DESIRE is one that craves knowledge. Not that you can use it to your advantage; his contract is unbreakable, his power incredible, and he knows a lot more than you do.

  He is the youngest living archwizard, after all.

  “As for your more recent behavior…” He snaps his fingers and a scroll appears in front of you, rolls out, and pys back sketched rotoscoped footage of you talking with Miss Tenderhoof. “You should be more careful.”

  You throw your hands up in the air and groan. You did everything right! You moved modestly, spoke softly, and barely showed more than your face. Was it because of the ankle slip when you left the room? Also, why go through the effort of making a scroll appear and py like that?

  You reproduce the footage, opting for a projection pying on the desk.

  “Where did I mess up?” Your footage changes to you as a centaur plowing Tenderhoof and her students one by one. Projection-you is about to surprise the sleeping student with your huge horsecock when you lose control of the spell. “Hey!”

  “Quinn did not ‘mess up’.” The projection glitches and resumes just after your conversation with the centaur. When you used holy magic. “Scarlet Lily did, when she used her powers to quell Paragon Prairie Tenderhoof’s affliction.”

  Wait, that frumpy, big-tiddy teacher is a Paragon?

  “One that affects ninety percent of centaurs her age,” The Dean sighs as you shrink deeper in your seat, “that no cleric or priest could cure. Until now.”

  Oooh, this stinks of politics.

  “Thankfully, Prairie can be reasoned with. And she’s used to keeping secrets.” Sher’khan eases off you and you realize he’s been pressuring you with his sheer magic girth. The power he could wield on your supple body… “Please don’t make that expression.”

  Shoot, you were thinking about his magic sexually. Competence is sexy. So is power. You hate to admit it, but the weird looking wizard in front of you is both. Too bad the Dean is a magic-obsessed virgin wizard. You imagine strange, metaphysical lewd encounters with him for another moment before wiping the horny off your face.

  “Let us hope the depths of your holy abilities do not attract the attention of the Holy Order. They tend to canonize easily maniputed girls with such powers.” They gather vulnerable girls and make them into Saintesses? That’s a great idea! “And your…‘backstory’ would make you an ideal candidate.”

  You should find some of these girls. For…reasons. Plus, he does have a point. Nothing like a poster girl to fight against the rising threat.

  “Yeah, that would really get the knights to fight off the demon raids.”

  “…the what raids?” Sher’Khan’s pressure returns.

  Does he not know? Holy (owie!) crap, he doesn’t! They do have radio towers and magical communication…from what you’ve seen, they’re only really in the bigger cities.

  Maybe if you leverage this, you can get some…wait, no. Page 435, article sixteen, section A. ‘If signatory is aware of any present danger to the people of Avalon or Pillia, they must communicate it to the contractor.’ One of the simplest cuses buried under a mess of bullshit.

  Well, it’s not like you can’t ask anything for the information. You should get something important…

  “When I tell you, can you reward me with your dick?”

  “No.” Sher’Khan frowns.

  “A date?”

  “Eugh. No.” Okay, that one hurt.

  “Using your magic to viote all my holes after you leave the room?”

  “How is that lower on the list than a date? No.”

  “An unbreakable, undetectable spell to communicate over long distances?”

  “More reasonable. Still, no: There is no message that cannot be intercepted or decrypted.”

  “A horde of Niflheim demons wiping out secluded vilges throughout Prillia, most recently seen by Hacksonville.”

  “Why would I have—” The Dean’s eyes bug out. “Those raids?”

  You sit there with a big grin.

  “The reports say they’re quick, organized, and leave no survivors.” He grumbles and rubs his goatee. “Demon hordes aren’t typically organized. The signs point to kobold attackers and assorted bandit groups.”

  “Well, the survivors of Greenbrook have something to say about that.” The chair creaks as you lean back and huff. “I feel like Aevum’s involved somehow.”

  “This again.” Sher’khan shakes his head. He still doesn’t believe that the Aevum who wrote the book and the Aevum who took control of the airship are the same person. “You’re bming a dwarf who’s been dead for centuries for the actions of an elf you’ve never seen directly. The elf was likely a mentee of his who took his name after he died. It isn’t rare for the apprentices of geniuses to go mad.”

  You cross your arms and pout. Your soul sight registers a thimble of regret in him. He’s speaking from experience. The wizard sighs and rubs his salt and pepper hair.

  “How long have you known about this?”

  “A couple days.” You look away as he gres holes into you. “I thought you knew already!”

  “I understand how you could come to that conclusion. To you, I seem a strange, omniscient being.” Dean Sher’khan grumbles. “But I am far from it. I am not even the strongest wizard in Camelot. So I ask: Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “I told you a lot already.” You lean back in the rickety chair. “Landing in the pins, meeting the minotaurs, the unsexy zombies and the very sexy equints, getting captured, getting double captured, exploding, nding in Hacksonville and fighting the vampire cyborg—Oh right!”

  “Are you just realizing your strange storytelling methods leave much to be desired?” So what if you gloss over the boring details?

  “I learned something about Paradox…” Surely, he’ll take this information well.

  A few minutes ter, you leave the room smoking.

  Not because you’re hot.

  Sher’khan didn’t seem keen on the revetion. Turns out, he does care about Star. That’s nice.

  What isn’t nice is experiencing his small pse in emotions. An archwizard’s temper is not something you want to see again. Thank goodness he sucked up the explosion before it ruined your clothes. The smell of ozone follows you out of the office and you make your way to the stairs.

  Good thing you’re almost done cleaning! Wait a second…

  “Darn it, who left all these puddles on the stairs!”

  Your life has taken a turn. For the strange.

  You’re not quite sure if this is the right kind of strange. You are Dean Sher’khan, and you’re not sure you can manage the demon. Well, if worst comes to worst, you can. But you hate using such permanent solutions.

  The strange creature calling herself Quinn has already proven quite valuable. She’s given you the first verifiable evidence of the spell causing the declining popution, she’s exposed several fws in the main library’s security system, and she has access to strange and incredible information.

  That said, she vaciltes between incredibly clever and just…so dumb. The way she’s advanced magic in a wholly independent direction based on her unique traits is inspiring, genius, even revolutionary! And the ideas she brings to the table? Wonderful!

  But by Celeste and Soria, she can be stupid. It may be because she doesn’t have any context to what is normal. Or what should be communicated. Or the consequences of her actions. In fact…

  You focus, your third eye showing you Quinn grumbling as she magics away all the water she left on the staircase. Of course.

  Nevertheless, she is useful. The demon raids are news to you, and it would have taken a while before the information came to Camelot. You send a message to the bigger knight orders so this incident can be rectified.

  In addition, Quinn is convinced that Star had a doppelganger that was solely responsible for the Hacksonville incident, and that Aevum Emit Sisto is involved. You’ll bring a witness to corroborate her cim, though the odd fluctuations in the weave of magic attest that something very strange happened far south. By Hacksonville.

  There’s still a couple matters that need your attention. You briefly push out the worry that Quinn will be bad for Star; your student can take care of herself. She’s long since become your equal in mind magic. Though Quinn learns quickly, Star is in a league of her own.

  The bigger issue is that Quinn is getting faster at cleaning, and soon the csses you give her won’t be enough to occupy her time. She might do something dumb soon. You concentrate on your constructs.

  The tertiary magus-minds you’ve set to your normal duties as dean are operating well within parameters. You've managed compints, banced the checkbooks, invigited csses... Paragon Jesper has asked for a meeting, which you’ve deyed as much as you can.

  Purely to annoy him.

  Onto more important matters: Klein Bottle has more than enough credits to graduate, but he wants more. Which is why he’s nervously waiting behind the door.

  “Come in, dear boy.”

  The young man shuffles in and sits in front of you. You don’t need to read his mind to figure out why he’s so quiet. You haven’t talked to him much after you found the traces of hypnosis on him. It’s likely that he assumes you’re disappointed in him.

  Understandable; he isn’t at the same level as your previous apprentices. If anything, he’s the weakest mage you’ve ever taken under your wing.

  “I’m not upset at you, Klein.” He sits up straighter. “You found yourself in some strange circumstances. Thankfully, I recovered the books.”

  The books Quinn returned poof in front of him. He looks at the tomes with amazement, then hunkers down in shame again. There’s a reason he’s one of your favorite personal students. A sense of shame means he’s willing to learn from his mistakes and work hard to fix them.

  “Sir, I’m…I’d like to undergo the Apprenticeship Trial.” He squeezes his eyes shut and rambles all in one breath. “I know I’m not as talented as the other personal students, and I know that it took me long to even be qualified, but I want to make your proud and graduate as your Apprentice!”

  Ah, yes. Apprenticeship Trials traditionally have the student seek their master’s approval as an official disciple by having them undergo a momentous task. Sure, they could graduate with a thesis, but there’s a lot of prestige to becoming officially recognized. Your thoughts speed on by as he takes a deep breath to continue speaking.

  You remember your own Apprenticeship Trial. Your master, Orion Everbright, gave it to you after he invited you to dinner with his family. At first, he wanted to have you bring back a cambion soulshard from a Twilight Crypt. You almost spat out your tea.

  Thankfully, his wife convinced him to just have you bring back the dark wizard Vilethorn’s head. Tricky, but not nearly as impossible as braving a Twilight Crypt. Your Trial ended with quite a duel. After reverse-engineering the dark wizard’s spells and traps, you trapped him in an improved version of his own hex. The pride on Everbright’s face when you presented him the wizard trapped inside a space fractal is something you’ll remember to the end of your days.

  Typically, students work for five years under a wizard before asking to undergo the Trial. Of your twelve personal students, only two haven’t requested the Trial after exactly five years. Star, because she never bothered. And now Klein. You expected him to wait at least ten years before he got the confidence to ask, but here he is after only eight.

  “Please, Dean Sher’khan, I don’t care if I have to catch a manticore or defeat a dark wizard. I want to—”

  “What gave you the confidence to request this now? It’s strange.” You interrupt and he shrinks down. That almost sounds insulting. You rephrase. “I didn’t expect you to come to me. I thought you’d be more like myself, and I’d have to give it to you when I decided you were ready.”

  When you compare him to you, he brightens up. Indeed, the gulf between Everbright and yourself eclipsed the gulf between you and Klein. Sadness brushes past the mental lock you’ve pced on yourself.

  “Sir, it’s…my girlfriend.” He blushes and you stumble over your thoughts. “I showed off some of my magic and Cirrus was really impressed. I guess catching lightning in a bottle was a bit…much.”

  Cirrus, Cirrus…you riffle through the mental registry you keep of the students. Here we are: excellent grades, great conduct, majoring in Atmomancy. A goblin? Strange…It’s rare to see mixed race couplings in Camelot. Not that you understand coupling either way, you dumped that part of your mind to make space for more important things.

  The bigger problem is what Trial to give Klein. His combat magic scores are, frankly, abysmal. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, but his reflexes and battle intuition are subpar. Even if he goes with help, he will be a liability. His pride will be hurt if you tell him that.

  Pride is for idiots. He’ll learn that in time. His talents lie in more important things than the meat-headed glory of combat. And the Trial is meant to be more than the st test, but the st lesson. An idea for Klein’s Apprenticeship Trial comes to you, born from years of solving problems with other problems.

  “I was recently made aware of a demon horde wreaking havoc across the continent. What were initially thought to be a series of bandit raids were revealed to be an organized campaign. I’ve confirmed outlying towns like Greenbrook, Crimson Peak, Ravencrest, Frosthelm, and Sunridge to have been destroyed in the past week.”

  The more you talk, the quicker his breath comes. Good, he’s scared.

  “The Knights of the Principality, the Arcanoknights, and Holy Knight Order have already been alerted. They will call for mages and wizards to join them in what might be the Fifth Crusade. It will be bloody, violent, and there is no guarantee that any who volunteer will survive.”

  He’s well and truly terrified now. He should be commended, because he sits up straighter and reassesses himself.

  “If you so choose, your Trial would be to find the leader and bring back its head.” He opens his mouth to say yes, but you magic his lips shut. “Or…you could take on an even more thankless Trial, one that can chisel this moment in the annals of history.”

  “Wh-what’s that, Dean?” Klein leans forward in interest.

  You swivel around in your chair. Whoever invented the swivel chair was truly an innovator and one who appreciated the dramatic.

  “It took a week before word got to me about Greenbrook. It was only by some powerful divination spells that I was able to learn of the other towns. Even with radio, message spells, and all the magic in Camelot, most of Prillia outside the walls of the biggest cities is chaotic. Towns disappear under the constant assault of magical phenomena, monsters, bandits. And we are often caught unprepared when rge catastrophe strikes us.”

  You intertwine your fingers and lean forwards. Not dramatic enough. You kick your chair away and wave your cloak around. Better.

  “It is not merely by might we win these wars, my dear boy! Information and logistics determine the victor, now more than ever! Your Apprenticeship Trial, should you choose to accept it, is to build a reliable communication network! Your skills in spatial magic and management make you the unsung hero in this coming Crusade!”

  Klein jumps up, moved by your words.

  “Thank you, sir! I accept! But Dean, are you sure I can—”

  “Of course you can!” You interrupt your frazzled student. “Remember, you are not limited by your own abilities! If you have questions, find someone who would know the answer. Recruit whomever you’d like to complete this project!”

  “But where can I—”

  “You can reserve whatever rooms in this tower you so desire! Except the top and bottom levels, those are occupied.” You twirl around, your cloak pushing piles of important papers on the floor.

  “Wait…” Klein’s face whitens. “Isn’t this where the dhampir lives? Are you sure there’s not a dark wizard you need me to sy?”

  “Too te, you said yes!” You rush him out of your office. “I believe in you!”

  That should resolve a few problems. Strange that Klein would ask to fight a dark wizard instead of working in the same tower as Star. He probably doesn’t know that when a wizard sends a student to sy a dark wizard, they’re often telling them to get rid of a former student who's gone bad.

  You’ve always thought that to be an inelegant way of tying up loose ends. You clean up your own messes.

  Permanently.

  Dee_DubbleYew

  Rampant Corruption brings yellow journalism to the magical nd of Prillia! Will the noir detective uncover her foul pns? Find out, NEXT TIME!

  [colpse]