Man of Archives

The flight to Malta was quick. I had to circle around Sicily to avoid any encounters with the local wizards. We stayed close to the water to evade detection by Muggle technology. Thankfully, we didn’t need to worry about ships, as our concealment spells worked perfectly.

 

During the flight, I noticed a giant black shadow moving slowly in the water below. Following it for a while, I realized it was one of the magical sea creatures that inhabit the Mediterranean: a Vastuk, a massive whale known for its ability to conjure storms out of nowhere. Although they are generally harmless, if provoked, this creature can reveal why it’s something to be feared.

 

Distracted by the Vastuk, I had to ascend quickly to avoid a giant cruise liner filled with regular people. They were going about their day, relaxing and enjoying themselves. Among them, I noticed two wizards who sent signals invisible to Muggles but visible to fellow wizards. I responded in kind.

 

After this brief exchange, I continued on my way, finally reaching Malta. As soon as I approached, two wizards in gray chainmail and white robes with red crosses dropped from the sky. I slowed down gradually and came to a full stop.

 

One of the wizards flew closer, while the other kept a sharp eye on my every move, ready to act if needed.

 

"***? ***? Who are you?" he asked in several languages until I recognized one: French.

 

"Timothy Jody," I replied calmly. "Master of Transfiguration from England."

 

"Show me your ring," he requested in English with a rough accent.

 

I complied, illuminating my ring. He flew in closer, pulled out a small monocle-like artifact, and examined my finger closely. After a moment, he nodded and relaxed a bit.

 

"Very well, Master Jody. Thank you," he said. "Allow me to escort you to registration."

 

"Of course," I nodded.

"Follow me," the wizard instructed. He nodded toward the other wizard, who had descended behind me. "My partner will cover the rear."

 

"Do what you need to," I replied, exhaling. I had nothing to worry about. Their emotions were calm, and there was no hostility, especially after verifying my ring.

 

Our small group ascended into the sky, picking up speed, before sharply descending toward a large, beautiful building made of an unusual white material. As we entered a certain zone, I felt the space tighten and become difficult to maneuver in—something only very powerful wizards could manage. Even Dumbledore might have struggled here.

 

Flying under a long canopy, we landed. I stored my broom in my bag and patted my pockets, ensuring everything was in place. Almost immediately, a giant man approached, exuding magical power. His face was obscured by a gleaming helmet, and his body was encased in armor, with a white cloak embroidered with a red cross.

 

"***?" he asked my escorts.

 

They responded quickly and clearly. He nodded and then turned to me. I felt a light touch on my mind and immediately reinforced my mental defenses. The Maltese wizard quickly withdrew, not probing further.

 

"My name is Alban," the wizard introduced himself. "I am the head of the Malta Guard."

 

"Timothy Jody, Master of Transfiguration," I replied in English.

 

"We weren’t expecting a master to drop in," Alban said.

 

"It was a spontaneous decision," I shrugged. "But if necessary, I can leave."

 

"No problem," Alban said calmly. "You just need to register, and you can stay as long as you wish."

 

"Shall we go then?" I asked.

 

Alban barked something to my escorts.

 

They responded swiftly and shot up into the air, disappearing into a small cloud that had mysteriously appeared.

 

We walked into the building. The first window offered a stunning view of nearly the entire island. The building was surrounded by a dense green forest, likely hiding many intriguing secrets. But what secrets could such a small island hold? I imagined all the information about this forest must be in books.

 

"This building is called the Verdala Fortress," Alban explained. "It was built in the 14th century and served as excellent protection against wizards from African countries. Now, this fortress produces elite battle wizards who either join the Order of Maltese Battle Wizards or other equally renowned organizations."

 

"I’ve never heard of it," I admitted.

 

"That’s understandable," Alban chuckled. "Only wizards who have reached the rank of master can train with us."

 

"And how much does such training cost?" I asked.

 

"A semester costs two hundred thousand Galleons," the wizard said calmly, naming the enormous sum. Of course, I could pay it, but is it worth it? That’s the question. "A semester lasts four months. Oh, and the training is personal, conducted by the best mentors of the Order."

 

"Which wizards trained here?" I inquired.

 

"From Britain, some notable ones include Albus Dumbledore, Alastor Moody, Tom Riddle, Bellatrix Lestrange, and a few others who are less famous." Among those mentioned were two of the most famous figures in England’s magical society. "It's a pity the last two went rogue," Alban added.

 

If that’s true, then the training must definitely be worth the cost. I was now leaning more toward doing it.

 

"And how many semesters did they complete?" I asked.

 

"Albus Dumbledore is the only one who completed the full course," the wizard said calmly, stopping by a large oak door. "The others only finished one or two semesters. Please, come in."

 

We entered a small but spacious office. The interior was spartan: a desk, a small chair, a bookshelf, and a few shelves displaying curious artifacts. A miniature dragon in a cage particularly caught my eye. The wizard waved his hand, and the chair grew slightly larger. It seemed he also practiced non-verbal magic.

 

A thick book with living chains appeared on the desk, its small eye blinking at me before turning to Alban. He slowly opened the book.

 

"You're all registered," he said calmly.

 

"What is that artifact?" I asked, intrigued.

 

"Oh, this was created specifically for the Order when the fortress was first built," he explained. "An excellent tool for keeping records."

 

"How interesting," I murmured. I’d love to study this artifact-book more closely, but I doubted he’d grant me access.

 

"So, what do you say about my offer?" Alban asked as he closed the book.

 

"I’m in," I said after a moment's thought. "I’m ready to complete one semester for now."

 

"No problem," the wizard nodded. It was a shame his helmet made it impossible to see his face. Emotionally, he wasn’t particularly accessible to me either. "You can pay right now."

 

Writing a check for the required amount, I physically felt my account shrink, but I hoped it would be worth it. Alban calmly stowed the check away, then conjured several bags from thin air and handed them to me, along with a contract.

 

The contract was short but clear. I signed it, agreeing to the terms.

 

"This will be your uniform," he said, nodding toward the bags. "I recommend wearing it during your training."

 

"Alright," I nodded, somewhat surprised as I accepted the clothes. I wondered what they were for.

 

"And one more thing," he continued. "You’ll be assigned a cell in the fortress. At four in the morning, Prior Aron will come to you. He’ll be your mentor for this semester."

 

"Prior Aron," I repeated, committing the name to memory. "And where is my cell?"

 

"Your cell is on the first underground level, room three," he answered. "Good luck and endurance."

 

With a direct dismissal, there was nothing left to do but thank him for the conversation. Shrinking the bags, I left the office and set out to find my cell.

 

I encountered several more wizards in chainmail. Stopping one of them, I asked where the stairs were. He calmly led me to them, then went on his way.

 

The first underground level greeted me with cool air and humidity. My cell was easy to find. When I entered, I was surprised. It really was a cell in the most literal sense of the word. A long stone slab served as a bed, with a single rough blanket and nothing more.

 

I attempted to transfigure the stone into a normal bed. It worked, but with great difficulty. The stone seemed to be made of a rare material resistant to transfiguration. It’s not something commonly spoken about, as it’s impossible to find in the wild. It only exists in places like this and a few magical institutes.

 

After giving up on transfiguring the stone into a proper bed, I decided to make a few cosmetic changes. These were easier but still not quite right. I managed to flatten the surface and make it more comfortable to lie on. It took over an hour, but I was satisfied with my work.

 

Transfiguring a few additional items from thin air, I noticed they evaporated after a while. Hmm. It seems things aren’t so simple here, and I definitely need to study this phenomenon. Luckily, I had a spare blanket, mattress, and a few other essentials.

 

I then headed to the highest tower to have dinner. The place was deserted, allowing me to eat in peace. Since it was autumn, night fell earlier. With the first signs of dusk, I returned to my cell.

 

Before falling asleep, I tapped into the local information network and started downloading various books. As I suspected, the dominant literature here focused on battle magic and its use against both humans and magical creatures. There was a wealth of knowledge, though I doubted it could rival the Hogwarts library.

 

I fell asleep realizing that I had signed up for a few very challenging months. But so be it—I couldn’t pass up the chance to learn something new and become a more skilled wizard.

 

I was up and dressed just as Alban had advised. At exactly four in the morning, the door to my cell flew open, and in strode a massive wizard, even taller than the local head. His clean-shaven face and bald head gleamed faintly in the light of mystical flames. His sharp eyes examined me, searching for something.

 

"Follow me," the wizard commanded.

 

Shrugging, I followed, trying to keep up. His long strides forced me to half-walk, half-run.

 

We stepped outside. It was still dark, though the sky in the distance was tinged with red—dawn was approaching.

 

"I am Prior Aron," he introduced himself as we exited. "I will be your mentor this semester. Before we begin training and studying new material, I need to assess your skills."

 

"Alright," I exhaled. It seemed he was going to behave like a strict taskmaster, the kind who relishes being a tyrant. I was sure many masters wouldn’t tolerate such behavior. Maybe for the first few days, but after that, they’d voice their discontent.

 

"Try to defeat me," Prior Aron said, drawing his wand. "I suggest you don’t hold back, or you’ll end up injured."

 

"I understand," I nodded.

 

In the next second, I was already defending myself. A strong magical blast flew past me, crashing into the barrier that surrounded us. Moments later, I had to dodge again as a wave of fire surged toward me, incinerating everything in its path.

 

With a quick flick, I conjured a wave of water in front of me, which immediately swallowed the fire, cloaking the area in white steam. In the next moment, I transfigured the steam into heavy stone blocks that flew toward Aron as if magnetized, but he easily blocked them.

 

A light wave of his hand turned the stone blocks into sand. Then, the sand began to revert back into steam.

 

He made another movement with his wand, and the ground beneath him turned into a trampoline. Rising into the air, he cast another spell—this one particularly dangerous for me. I had to make a sharp evasive move to avoid it.

 

Suddenly, roots erupted from the ground, racing toward me at incredible speed. I didn’t recognize the spell. How should I respond? What does it do? The seconds spent thinking were ticking by, forcing me to act quickly.

 

I began lifting myself into the air using transfiguration, creating a small square tower beneath me. The roots climbed the tower rapidly, causing it to wither.

 

Since I couldn’t apparate, I had to improvise. I made a sharp leap to the side, followed by a dive toward the ground. The roots immediately followed, but as I was falling, they couldn’t keep up. I cast a spell to soften my landing, and a gentle ripple spread out from where I touched down.

 

Two quick flicks of my wand. Liquid fire began pouring from it, attempting to consume the roots. But nothing happened. The roots surged forward, emitting a predatory light-purple glow. I realized I needed to focus on the wizard himself.

 

Before the roots could reach me, I began casting a spell. Swishes of the wand, mental focus, then a light gray sphere shot toward Prior Aron with a hum. I was right—he had to react, defending himself and breaking the root spell.

 

Aron made a few more wand movements, summoning a rainbow-colored shield in front of him. I didn’t recognize this spell either. The shield calmly absorbed my attack and then burst, spreading a dome of violet smoke. This gave me a moment to unleash a stream of simple spells and a few curses. But it was all meaningless to him. With a sharp motion, he created more shields that absorbed my basic mosquito-level spells.

 

What now?

 

A sharp spell struck me from the side. I flew back, rolling across the ground. Waves of pain shot through me, but I didn’t stop; I pushed forward with my hand. Pain flared in my ribs, but it only fueled me with anger. Three healing spells were already at work on my body, starting to ease the pain.

 

Another powerful spell was aimed at me, but I conjured a Protego just in time. The spell smashed through my shield but was neutralized in the process.

 

I cast another spell, and the ground rippled, lifting me to my feet, then began to transfigure into vague figures that rushed toward Aron. This transfiguration was dangerous—not just for the target but for the caster as well.

 

Aron summoned a silvery-white cloud that simply consumed my transfigurations. But I didn’t stop, immediately tapping into the level of magic accessible only to masters. Thousands of tiny mirrors formed a hemisphere, directing thousands of rays at the target. But to Aron, it was as if I’d spat at him. He brushed it off and forgot about it.

 

The Prior transfigured a mirror that reflected my attack. With another flick of his wand, my mirrors dissolved, gathering into a massive cloud of glass shards that flew toward him.

 

He gripped his wand with both hands, exhaled, and seemed to push with it. The glass shards slammed into an invisible wall and instantly stopped, falling harmlessly to the ground.

 

I noticed an expression of boredom on Aron’s face. It seemed my efforts were utterly uninteresting to him. Well then… how do I wipe that look off his face? I didn’t want to resort to witch’s curses—they were a last resort. What else could break through to him?

 

"Be a man!" the Prior finally yelled. "Use all your knowledge and skills! You’re fighting like a schoolboy."

 

"Technically, I just graduated from school this summer," I replied.

 

"Ah, right," the Prior drawled. "Alright, stop."

 

I relaxed a bit and lowered my wand. The Prior did the same, then holstered his wand. I followed suit. The barrier that had been containing stray spells lowered, and a fresh breeze scattered various scents.

 

"I’ve assessed your level," the wizard said. "Now, we’ll head for breakfast, and afterward, we’ll begin our first official lesson."

 

Breakfast was served in a large hall that exuded austerity. Massive wooden tables and equally large benches filled the room, where Maltese wizards sat quietly. The food was simple, almost bland.

 

The hall was silent, with only the sounds of spoons and forks hitting plates breaking the stillness. Not wanting to disturb the atmosphere, I ate in silence as well. Plain porridge and weak tea—that was breakfast. Simple and ordinary.

 

Afterward, the Prior led me to a small classroom, similarly austere in style. The desks were wooden, and the wall displayed a board with various inscriptions. I couldn’t quite make out what was written.

 

"Here’s what I can say," Prior Aron broke the silence. "Your performance is satisfactory, but it’s still not enough—not enough to be considered an excellent battle wizard. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve wiped you out in about twenty seconds."

 

"That’s nice to hear," I smirked.

 

"I’m just being honest," Aron said. "A battle wizard needs to be a walking killing machine, not some pretty little script."

 

The Prior approached the board and began drawing. It turned out to be a schematic of a wizard casting a spell.

 

"Battle wizards face only two types of opponents," he continued. "Other battle wizards or magical creatures. These days, the chances of facing another battle wizard are lower than encountering magical creatures. But we don’t stray from tradition and prepare to confront both types evenly. Personally, I categorize all potential opponents as magical creatures. It’s simpler that way."

 

"Even other people?" I asked.

 

"Of course," Aron replied, now officially my mentor for the next four months. "Remember, humans can be cunning opponents. That’s why we became the dominant species on the planet, not goblins or centaurs. So, I hope you’re ready to work hard every day, without breaks, and sleep no more than six hours."

 

"I’m ready," I exhaled.

 

If I’d known what lay ahead, I wouldn’t have been so sure. Prior Aron created a personal hell for me! At four in the morning, a battle, then breakfast, followed by theory, another battle using the new knowledge, lunch, more theory, and several hours of spell practice and tactical drills, finishing the day with yet another battle.

 

Every third day, we had a battle that lasted all day, often until we were utterly exhausted and unconscious. No matter how much pain I endured—from magical strikes, injuries large and small, or the desire to rest—I continued to do everything Aron demanded. He liked this "zeal" for learning and pushed me even harder. That was the first two months.

 

The next two months were a mix of training, battles with the Prior, and facing off against magical creatures. I don’t know where they got all these monsters, but I’m sure some of them will haunt my nightmares. Ordinary vampires were nothing compared to what they used as training aids. Every day brought something new or reinforced old lessons.

 

It became even more challenging because I continued downloading books from the local information space. This made my life harder, but I didn’t give up—I kept pushing forward.

 

By the end, food lost all taste, my desire to live was at an all-time low, and my will to get up in the morning was almost nonexistent. Still, I followed every command, aware of the progress I had made.

 

By now, I could last three minutes against the Prior before he found a way to defeat me. Experience truly is a valuable thing. My understanding of battle magic had grown so much that comparing it to my previous level was impossible.

 

"Congratulations," Prior Aron said as I blocked his final spell.

 

"What?" I asked, surprised.

 

"Congratulations on finishing the semester," he repeated. "You’ve just completed your first term in our Order."

 

Closing my eyes, I let myself drop to my knees and exhale. I didn’t feel a sense of freedom yet, but I imagined it would sink in soon.

 

"And how did I do?" I asked once I’d calmed down a bit.

 

"Very well," the wizard nodded. "I’d say you’re definitely among the top students who’ve completed the first semester."

 

"Are there some who don’t finish?" I asked.

 

"Statistically," Alban appeared behind me, "about ninety percent quit after the first week, another five percent drop out halfway through, and three percent quit at the very end. Only a rare two percent finish the first semester, and very few complete the entire course."

 

"I'm not ready to continue yet," I exhaled. "I need to continue my journey."

 

"I understand," Alban nodded. "So once again, congratulations on completing your first semester. You now have enough skills and knowledge to continue training and developing on your own."

 

"Thank you," I replied. "May I stay in the fortress a little longer?"

 

"You may, but only if you're planning to start the second semester right away," he chuckled. "Otherwise, no. But Malta will remain open to you."

 

"I see," I exhaled. "Then, I want to thank you for everything."

 

"It's my job," Prior Aron said. "Alright, I have to go. We'll meet again, Timothy."

 

"Thanks again," I said gratefully.

 

The Prior quickly left. Alban nodded in response, his helmeted head giving nothing away. I’d never seen him without that helmet. I wondered what was behind it, but it would be rude to ask.

 

"I’ll escort you," Alban said after a brief, awkward silence.

 

Returning to my cell, I gathered my few belongings. Nothing new had accumulated during my time here. There had been neither time nor desire for that. When I stepped outside, the wizard handed me a long tube. Opening it, I found a rolled-up parchment.

 

"What's this?" I asked.

 

"A certificate of successful completion of one semester," he replied calmly. "It’s a valuable document and a reminder that you spent part of your life becoming a better Battle Wizard. With this, you can apply for an apprenticeship with the Battle Magic Guild."

 

"Oh," I nodded. "That sounds much more useful. Thank you."

 

He led me to the top of the fortress, and from there, I launched myself into the sky on my broom. As I soared into the heavens, I laughed. There was a strange feeling of freedom, though I hadn’t been imprisoned. It was a curious sensation. But no matter. Making a large circle over the blue sea, I pulled out a map. I had made it myself because, as the Prior had said, "A proper Battle Wizard has a map of the world created with his own hand."

 

And so, I had my own personal map. The question of where to go next loomed large. I needed to analyze all the books I’d downloaded during my time in Malta before moving on. Yes, there was still much I hadn’t explored on the island, but I had no desire to stay.

 

Since it was full winter in Europe, I had little interest in participating in it. This meant I needed a warm country—and an interesting one, too. Or at least an interesting city. My eyes fell on Beirut, in Lebanon. Why not? A few years ago, a major war between magical sects had finally ended there. It had been a large and bloody conflict, involving both wizards and regular people. And, of course, many had pursued their own unique goals.

 

The war ended with the signing of a peace treaty. The consequences of that treaty had yet to fully surface. Maybe another war was brewing, or perhaps old grudges would be forgotten.

 

Setting my course with magic, I took off. The broom quickly picked up speed. Glancing at the water, I occasionally saw small boats and large yachts going about their business. These yachts were accompanied by both magical and ordinary sea creatures. Sometimes, the largest ships carried wizards who immediately identified themselves and expected me to do the same in return.

 

By evening, I reached Cyprus. No one greeted me as they had in Malta. My destination was Mount Olympus, the magical center of this island and a place of cultural significance. Maybe I’d stay here for a few days?

 

The mountain welcomed me with a large forest, swaying slightly in the wind. Diving into the greenery, I landed on solid ground. My legs were grateful for it. After stowing my broom, I did a few squats and jumps. I took a deep breath of the cool air and exhaled. Time to move on.

 

It was easy to find a trail. A simple spell, and within five minutes, I emerged onto a well-trodden path, where I could see the footprints of someone’s shoes. Climbing upward, I occasionally stopped to take in the surroundings and admire the beauty unfolding around me. There was plenty to admire. Several small towns at the foot of the mountain were connected by lines of life—roads filled with light. Along these roads, cars carried all sorts of goods, both useful and mundane.

 

Soon, I reached a large flat area with several big buildings and parked cars. It seemed I had arrived at the Muggle hotels. Interesting. Some people were sitting on benches, smoking and chatting loudly. Music, in a language I didn’t recognize—probably Greek—was playing from one of the hotels. Looking closely at the people, I realized they were ordinary humans with no magical talent. Or they were exceptionally skilled at hiding their traces. A trained eye can usually distinguish a wizard from an ordinary person. And a powerful wizard is hard to miss. I figured the first option was more likely.

 

Why not stay at one of these local hotels? One building had a brightly lit sign in Greek, with five stars shining underneath it. If I’m not mistaken, five stars is a mark of high quality.

 

Stepping onto the platform, I headed toward that hotel. The conversation and laughter outside stopped. I felt their curious gazes. They wondered who I was, why I had emerged from the forest at this hour, and what I was going to do next. Some of the women, dressed rather "freely," seemed to have a single question in mind: Was I a maniac?

 

Ignoring them, I walked into the hotel. The doors automatically slid open before me, allowing me to step inside. The hotel was decorated in a "rich and luxurious" style. Stylized antique columns supported the ceiling, leaving room for a large hall with steps adorned with golden railings and metal inlays depicting scenes from various Greek legends.

 

There weren’t many people around, but those who were here watched me with interest. The hotel staff weren’t much different from other hotels, though they seemed curious to see how long it would take before security threw me out.

 

"Good evening," I greeted them in English.

 

The woman behind the reception desk began to panic slightly. But a dark-skinned young man with slightly yellowish eyes stepped in to assist her.

 

"Good evening," he said with a strong accent. "Please excuse my colleague. She doesn’t speak English."

 

"No worries," I nodded.

 

"How can I help you?" he asked.

 

"I’d like to book a room for a few nights," I said calmly. A gold Galleon flickered in my hand, immediately catching the attention of both hotel employees. While the man looked merely surprised, the woman clearly recognized what it was. She whispered something in his ear, and he examined the gold coin more closely.

 

"Of course," he nodded. Meanwhile, the woman hurried over to a nearby phone.

 

The security guards hovered nearby, but since they hadn’t received any signals, they didn’t interfere. Everything was fine.

 

"She wants to clarify something with the hotel’s general manager," the man explained, nodding toward the woman, who had spoken quickly over the phone and was now waiting for a response. The feeling of calm and slight relaxation told me there was no need to worry.

 

The hotel employee whispered something to her colleague.

 

"The manager is on his way down now. Please wait a few minutes."

 

"No problem," I chuckled.

 

Shortly after, the manager appeared. He was a very weak wizard, stuck at the level of a first-year Hogwarts student. He was dressed in an official suit with a few badges. I subtly showed him my ring.

 

"Good evening," he said. "My name is Hermes, and I’m the manager of this hotel. And you are…?"

 

"Timothy Jody," I introduced myself, placing my hands on the desk. I noticed his eyes catch the glint of my ring.

 

"You have an interesting ring," he chuckled. "I’ve never seen one like it."

 

"I’m a master in a particular… field," I replied.

 

"Oh," he nodded, slipping into a strange state of thought. "You must have worked hard for that."

 

"Indeed."

 

A flicker of envy crossed his face but was quickly suppressed.

 

"Let me offer you a few excellent rooms," he said, his tone shifting. "With views of the island or the mountain."

 

"I’m more interested in a view of the island," I nodded.

 

"I can offer you an extra-luxury suite," the manager suggested. "Are you expecting any guests?"

 

"Not sure yet," I shrugged. "How much would an extra-luxury room cost for seven nights?"

 

"You don’t need to worry," he replied. "Everything will be charged to your company’s account."

 

"Thank you," I nodded. Of course, what he said wasn’t entirely true. He planned to contact the hotel’s director, who was also a wizard, and inform him about me. Wizards rarely stayed here, so the manager had his own methods of handling such things. If I were a regular person, they’d probably charge me some astronomical fee.

 

Once I received the keys, I immediately sensed the shift in emotions around me. The female staff members were intrigued, formulating certain plans in their minds. The men simply envied me. The security staff began thinking about how they’d need to beef up security—anyone who could afford such a room was certainly no ordinary guest.

 

The room was on the top floor, offering a magnificent view of the island. This hotel boasted many amenities for relaxation, including a jacuzzi, pool, and sauna. My room even had its own jacuzzi, perfectly positioned to gaze out at the scenery and contemplate life.

 

On the ground floor was a restaurant, where I headed after soaking in the bath. It felt incredibly satisfying to wash away four months of hellish training in Malta.

 

A local band performed on stage, playing something from their folklore. Waitresses bustled about, delivering food to guests. I was greeted and seated at a lovely spot on the second floor, with a nice view of the hall and the musicians. I ordered something local, made with seafood.

 

My order arrived thirty minutes later, and in the meantime, I observed the people around me. None of them were wizards or had any connection to the magical world. It created a strange feeling that was hard to shake.

 

The group of young men and women I had seen outside were also guests at this hotel—I realized this when I spotted them seated at the other end of the second floor.

 

And yes, it seems Beirut will have to wait.

 

***

 

Hermes sat in his office, the phone pressed to his ear. The sound of the line connecting echoed in the room. After a few seconds, someone on the other end picked up.

 

"Sir, it’s Hermes calling," the manager said. "I have some news for you."

 

A response came from the other end.

 

"A man with a master’s ring has checked in," Hermes immediately reported.

 

A brief silence followed.

 

"Timothy Jody," he added, after the person on the other end must have asked for the guest’s name. The silence stretched on as they processed the information, no doubt planning their next steps. The arrival of a master on the island was a significant event. Masters didn’t visit often, as the island lacked valuable materials and resources, though it was known for its magical anomalies.

 

"Yes, I offered him an extra-luxury room," Hermes continued. "I think he’ll stay here for a few more days."

 

Another response, and Hermes quickly jotted down notes. After a moment, he exhaled.

 

"Should I offer him a special menu?" the manager asked.

 

The reply came swiftly.

 

"Understood," Hermes said. "I’ll inquire about the possibility of a meeting and any preferred activities."