Duke did not leave Baslin’s side for a long time. He did not know how long nor did he care, sealing the area around the cottage off from everyone and everything with his Ability. Eventually, he set aside the initial grief and set himself to motion with a snap to his feet. He did not have a plan, but just started constructing.

  When he was done, he realized that he had re-created Baslin’s tower as precisely as his memory served. He had never been to the top floor of the tower where Baslin’s personal chambers were, so he created something out of his own imagination. In the center of the room was a glass-like coffin which held the Archmage’s body while the periphery of the room held books and various artifacts collected over a lifetime that Duke found in the cottage. Duke had lovingly entombed Baslin with his staff in his right hand and his spellbook in his left, across his chest.

  Duke took his time saying goodbye to his friend and former mentor. His thoughts had swirled with his emotions, racing from blame to sorrow. He knew he had to be thankful that Baslin didn’t die alone but the Archmage had been alone for at least a century. Again. Duke clamped down on his emotions, keeping his anger under control lest he destroy the memorial he had just constructed. Finally, he decided that he couldn’t be in the tower any longer and TELEPORTED back to the entrance of the Academy. A quick scan showed him where Ophirian and Nystriel were hiding.

  He stepped into the campus tavern and was immediately surprised to see the barkeep was not a minotaur. In fact, he had no idea what to call what he was looking at. It was like a cross between a centaur and a unicorn. It was a female centaur with a horn protruding from her forehead the length of his forearm, and it was completely naked. The tavern was absolutely packed with students but it was easy to spot Ophirian as he was leaning over the bar, chatting up the bartender intensely.

  Duke shook his head, sighed, and looked for an empty table. There were none, so he pushed a wall out and made himself a table and chairs to sit at. Some students made to take the table but when they met Duke’s gaze, they collectively, shrieked, dropped their drinks, and fled the tavern. He ignored the commotion, casually waving a CLEANSE at the mess as he pulled a chair out and sat.

  It did not take long for a server to come to his table, likely attracted by the commotion he had caused. The server was an oversized man, swelling with the kind of puffy muscle that screamed “artificially enhanced” to Duke. He peered down at Duke for a long second before asking, “What can I get you?”

  Duke was surprised that the server hadn’t done or said anything about the sprouting table or the fleeing students. What surprised him even more was how much that put his emotions off. I know I’m looking for a fight, but this is not the place. Could he read that?

  “If you have it, I’ll take scotch whiskey.”

  “Neat or on the rocks?”

  “Bottle.”

  “That will be expensive. Are you sure?”

  “What do you consider expensive?”

  “A full bottle would be a medium crystal.”

  Duke produced a grand crystal from his INVENTORY. He could have created any value of crystal from dungeon essence but decided against it in this case – only the real thing would be appropriate today. He placed it on the table and offered the server a smile. His voice reflected the pain and frustration roiling through his mind as he spoke again, “Today we all drink to honor the memory of my friend, the first headmaster of this Academy, Baslin. Drinks are on me until the crystal runs out.”

  The server looked stricken before picking up the crystal and nodding with his assessment of its quality and authenticity. He looked Duke in the eye and responded in a serious tone, “I will take this to the owner. She may have something to say about it.”

  Duke nodded but didn’t say anything, instead leaning back in his chair to look around the bar. Most of the patrons were human or humanoid but there were a few centaurs occupying the corner opposite Duke. They stood around a table, seemingly keeping to themselves. They were all male and similarly unclothed like the barkeep. Is that just a centaur thing? Doesn’t matter, I guess. Not my problem or my business.

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  It was not long before the barkeep arrived with his bottle. Duke’s XENOGLOSSIA had trouble reading her body language as he refused to look anywhere other than her eyes. Even without his Ability, he could sense the trap waiting for him and he was not in the mood for dealing with it. She placed the bottle on his table with a short crystal glass, all the time leaning forward to put everything in his line of sight.

  He sighed, “Thank you for the bottle, but one of my closest friends in all this world just died. I am in no mood for games.”

  Her reaction was not what Duke expected. She spoke in a calm and measured tone, “Is Baslin truly dead? I heard that a tower rose from the ground next to his cottage.”

  “Yes, he passed away and I raised his tower as his final resting place. He is entombed on the top floor.”

  She moved to the opposite side of the table and produced a second glass and a second bottle from…well, Duke wasn’t quite sure where she had hidden them. The centaur poured for each of them.

  “You must be Duke.”

  He looked up suspiciously, “I am.”

  “Baslin spoke of you. In fact, he insisted that we keep this scotch whiskey on hand just for you. He knew that someday you would come back, and he wanted us to be ready. You see, Baslin taught my great, great grandmother Alchemy nearly two hundred years ago. She, in turn, taught her children, and they adapted it to magical brewing. That is where this tavern came from. It has been in the family ever since. Word of our indirect founder’s passing is hard to take, and I would join you in celebrating his life. That is, if you would have me.”

  “I’d say pull up a chair, but that doesn’t seem to be practical for you.”

  “Thank you for the offer anyway. We all have our own ways of doing things.” She raised her glass with her right hand while she cast a spell with her left while muttering an incantation that struck Duke as familiar but slightly different. Immediately, every conversation in the tavern ceased and most patrons stared around in stunned surprise.

  She stood taller. Duke was not sure how she managed to do it, but she towered over the tables as she spoke, “Everyone raise a glass.” She paused for everyone to comply which they did with haste before she continued, “King Duke here is the founder of our beloved Academy and the oldest friend of our revered first Headmaster, Baslin the Best.”

  Cheers erupted throughout the tavern as they celebrated. A few even raised their glasses to drink, but they were all silenced once again. She continued, “Yes, we are thankful for what King Duke has done for us but tonight, he brings us news that many of us have been dreading. Our beloved Baslin the Best has died.” The mood of the crowd immediately plummeted.

  Duke stood, raising his glass high, “To the man who first taught me the value of magic. To the man who put his life on hold for more than a century to uphold a promise, to the man who built this wonderous place from a simple vision and made it what it is today. But most importantly, to the best Archmage this world has ever known. To Baslin the Best! May he rest in peace!”

  The response was more muted as the news sank in. But no one hesitated in raising their glass in salute and draining the contents. Servers were already prepared and brought another round around the tavern, dropping off drinks as they filtered through. Most didn’t ask but any who did were informed that the drinks were on Duke. He received more than a few salutes as the centaur poured them each another glass.

  “I’m Cerlyn, by the way.”

  “Duke. But you already know that. Excuse my bluntness, but is this,” Duke gestured to her nakedness, “the norm for centaurs?”

  “At the Academy Tavern, yes. It prevents customers from getting too belligerent. Very few men can keep up a coherent rage when there is a pair of tits staring them in the face.”

  “Interesting perspective on things.”

  “And I do have to admit that I am impressed. You haven’t taken even a glance. Are you married, celibate, or something?”

  “Nothing like that at all. I simply have way too many things going on to get involved in another relationship.”

  “Oh, so glancing at my tits would put us in a relationship? Don’t I have anything to say about this relationship?”

  “You’re sitting at my table drinking scotch with me. I think we both know where this could wind up.”

  “So, you have experience with centaurs then?”

  “Not in that way, but I’m certain I could figure things out.”

  “Are you now?”

  “I do have a few advantages most don’t.”

  “Oh? I’m interested. Just what sort of advantages are we talking about? Are you hung like a horse?”

  Duke spit out his scotch. She laughed, making the drink sprayed all over her spill down between her breasts with his eyes following.

  “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

  “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “I can’t argue that point.”

  “Now tell me about these supposed advantages?”

  “Here, inside the Academy, reality is what I want it to be.”

  To demonstrate, Duke slowly created a grand crystal, paused for Cerlyn to take it in, and then shaped it into a perfect sculpture of her from her flowing hair to her hooves. It looked absolutely lifelike and stood half as tall as the bottle of whiskey. He placed it on the table before her.

  While she stared at the sculpture in wonder, he continued his line, “Anything I want it to be.”

  She looked up at him with her eyes full of fiery hunger, “You are coming with me. Now.” There was no room for compromise or argument in her eyes. Duke followed her out of the tavern realizing that his night was now spoken for.