"Yes, instructor Memp. I have been informed that the first year magic students will soon be departing for the metil mines beneath the royal palace. Because of the dangers associated with the region, I would very much like to escort the students and ensure their safety."
The heavy click of the door's locking mechanism hadn't been lost on Aaralon, and the student backed away from Memp in an effort to buy time.
"Ah, my dear Aaralon. As protective as ever toward your juniors," Memp chided disapprovingly, but his sharp-toothed grin remained plastered across his face, "or perhaps you are worried for Flora?"
Aaralon knew, then, that Memp was grasping at straws for his motive, and it gave him a brief sense of power to have an advantage over the cat-eared man, no matter how slight. Unexpectedly, the mention of Flora's name wrenched something inside of his stomach. She was the girl he had heard Michael refer to on several occasions as "the cream of the of the green crop". The thought of beautiful Flora in harm's way made him uneasy.
Aaralon pulled his thoughts away from the girl. He was an aspiring demon summoner now. Beautiful women would soon be a copper a dozen to him. The fate of Flora, a mere first year alchemist should be of no concern.
"But you forget that they have been under my tutelage. I daresay the students are perfectly up to the task," Memp continued, inching forward toward Aaralon until at last, the student fell backwards onto a pile of pillows and blankets in a flurry of cat hair.
"However, I'm certain that you and I could have a far more entertaining adventure alone here in this room than you might in some dank old mines babysitting a class of first-year magic students," Memp's voice had dropped to a purr and he stood over Aaralon, surveying the student's body up and down.
Lying on his back in the pile of pillows and blankets, Aaralon felt a strong urge to plant his heel directly into Memp's face with enough force to rearrange those oh-so-perfect feline features. He knew, however, that such an action would trigger massive repercussions. And, of course, he hadn't yet played his trump card.
At this rate, Aaralon knew, not only would he fail to receive permission to travel with the first year students to the metil mines, but he was now in serious peril of becoming a toy for this depraved instructor. Something had to be done quickly. |