Chapter Text
You learn something new everyday
The click and clack of studded boots echo in the near empty room, the Sorcerer, with his shoulders squared and hands neatly folded at the small of his back, marches back and forth before his three students, sat in the front row of a chamber filled with upturned tables and chairs.
At the very least the trio managed to clear the front of the chamber, three desks forming a line and the fourth one, a little bit closer to the entrance, facing towards them. Behind Jack, a blackboard hangs on the wall and in his clenched hand, a scrap of chalk waits for the right time.
“I gather we all know what we are doing here, right?” It has been years since Jack walked the halls of Hyperion, inducing as much fear as he did respect. Now it’s time to slip back into the long forgotten role of a lecturer, something he does with quite a lot of pleasure. There isn’t anything quite as satisfying as watching a study room full of students listen to every single word of his wisdom. Three heads nod in unison. “We don’t need to have a talk about the birds and the bees?” a collective shake of heads comes, “nor about the birds and the birds for that matter? Or bees and bees? Or I don’t know, dragons and unicorns? You kids on board?” By now they all are shaking so vigorously Rhys looks like he’s about to shake his brain out through his ear, eyes going a little hazy with self induced vertigo. “Splendid!”
The strangled squeak escaping his apprentice at the previous explanation of what the intended purpose of the ‘dragons’ or how the younglings took to calling them, ‘floppies’ will be a fuel for at least a couple pleasant dreams for Jack. And it seems like the older sister updated the younger on this issue as well which, in all fairness, makes Jack feel a little relieved, he still needs a few more centuries before he’s ready for another talk on how babies are made. Back then he just didn’t trust Nisha to do a good job of breaking the news to his daughter and the memory still haunts him.
To his right, a ball of very excited energy starts squirming, all of their eyes drawn to Rhys who’s currently going through some strange ritual of wiggling nervously, shooting shifty glances left and right and interchangeably lacing and unlacing his fingers. Sensing the attention centered on him, the boy finally gives in, a little red in the face from all his excitement, and without waiting for a prompt, opens his mouth to speak.
“Jack!? Uhh…” taking in his surroundings, Rhys seems to rethink his statement, “master? Mmm… no. Teacher! Where’s Angel?”
That’s… that’s disrespectful and Jack all but twitches to give his apprentice a good clip around the head.
“First of all stupid thing,” with both fists resting against his hips, the Sorcerer aims for his best, menacing glare. And he has quite the wide range of those, none of them ever failing to put fear in the unfortunate recipient, “do not speak unless spoken to when we’re here. And that goes for all of you.” Just to make himself clear, his eyes take a wide sweep over the rest of his students, “second of all...well, I did ask her to come but she said she finds human anatomy disgusting and she wants nothing to do with it.” Behind a simple shrug hides all of his dejection at her turning down an opportunity to do some quality bonding with her father. Over artificial dicks but that’s beside the point. The feeling seems to be shared by the younger of the sisters, manifested in a morose sigh escaping her. “Third of all, that’s ‘professor’ for you, I happen to have a degree!” He’s not going to be disrespected in his own castle, oh no.
“And just what do you have a degree in? Being a twat?” The older girl matches his arms haughtily crossed over his puffed out chest with a gesture of her own.
“Excuse me? I’ll have you know it’s in necromancy. Passed all the tests with flying colours!” He couldn’t be more offended right now, snatching a cane, the sign of his position in the class, and waggling it menacingly at the girl.
“And what of it?” She doesn’t seem to be particularly impressed, a mocking grin curling the corner of her lips. “In this day and age it means nothing, magic is nothing more but a relic of the past, for all the king and his court care, you can very well wipe your ass with the papers.”
The death glare he’s shooting the older sister is bordering on becoming quite literal, angry sparks of his magic crackling in the air around him.
“Be careful what you say child, this relic of the past is putting food on your table. Besides, “ and here he cracks his most charming smile, previous anger dissipating in a matter of seconds, “I assure you, a shiny new era is tiptoeing nearer. Magic will once again rule this world!”
“Oh? And where do we feature?”
Subconsciously, his agitation and ill meaning aura brings dark, heavy clouds swirling above the castle and first, gloomy drops of the summer storm begin tapping a steady rhythm of a wardrum against the roof.
“Just listen to teacher!” The darkness so far fended off by the lit candles begins creeping closer, seemingly feeding the Sorcerer’s own menacing air, as the shadow he casts starts growing, perhaps an illusion perhaps a more tangible thing. The lights flicker with uncertainty. “So be prepared for the chance of the lifetime. The kingdoms will once again bow to the Handsome Sorcerer!”
“Oh yeah! We’ll be prepared!” Rhys, bless this child’s unwavering adoration, is as always on board with each and every of Jack’s plans. “For what?” Even if he doesn’t always know what he’s agreeing to.
“For the death of the king!”
“Is he sick?”
“No fools, we’re gonna kill him! And those blasted witch hunters too!”
“I love the idea!” the younger of the sister’s eyes light up, “who needs a king?”
“Interregnum!” his apprentice snatches the opportunity to show off with yet another fancy word he has picked from the books he still keeps on devouring daily, springing to his feet in barely contained excitement. The meaning behind it is clear enough though, and the girls chime in, happily repeating the word over and over again, quite effectively getting on Jack’s nerves with their lack of forethought.
“Shut up morons! -I- will be king!” It doesn’t dampen their enthusiasm in the least and the maniacal laughter pushing through the ominous smirk on Jack’s lips is aided in dramatism by a thunder splitting the sky open, momentarily drowning the chamber in a flash of bright light, the shadows painted against the wall growing even longer and more grotesque.
“Alright, enough!” a longer while is needed for the resounding shouts of ‘long live the handsome king’ to die out, Rhys, by now having jumped on the table and waving his fist in more or less the direction of the capital. “Sit down all of you, before we move on to the regicide, we have other things to attend to.” Namely, bringing back his old business.
See, that’s the very reason Jack used to be beloved by his students, he never needed much to sidetrack, something they used to abuse, goading the man until he inevitably started one of his infamous rants on this or another subject, a better alternative to listening to him passionately drone on and on about decay.
Regardless, now he has a clear goal in mind, and after bringing some discipline into his, rather small class, the cane coming in handy once again, he’s good to continue.
“By the end of today, each and every one of you will design their first toy so listen closely. Through years upon years of research, I have separated them into four main categories, insertables, penetrables, wearables and buzzers. We’ll start with the former.” It’s time for the chalk to shine, the Sorcerer furiously scribbling across the blackboard until he can present his students with the effects of his work. Half an hour he needed to finish was enough to have them all start dozing off, the cane angrily thumped against his desk making them snap their attention back to the drawings. Quite realistic drawings to be fair, cross-sections of human reproductive organs with arrows leading to the points of interest and approximate measurements added on the sides.
After that, Jack picks a few personal favourites out of the chest, going over little details until he’s sure they more or less got at least the gist of what he’s trying to tell them.
Then comes Rhys’ new favourite, a lunch break, a couple of treats deposited into three greedy sets of hands and Jack kicks everybody out so he can go over his notes in peace.
Or at least that’s what he thought he did, until someone decides to perch their backside on the edge of his desk.
Eyes snapping up, he’s met with blueberry stained teeth shown in a wide grin and a sweet bun pressed to his lips. For Rhys to willingly share any of his food is quite an unusual occurrence, the kid usually guarding his treats to his dying breath. Which means he’s probably trying to butter Jack up. Or it’s another of his silly ideas. The Sorcerer mostly decides to leave figuring which one it is till after he’s done chewing on a small bite he just took.
“Hmm…. professor?” there is something entirely inappropriate about the way the word drips from Rhys’ lips and as Jack leans back and Rhys leans closer, he’s left slightly regretting tossing that off-handed comment.
“What is it?” The kid is all up in his personal space, idly kicking one leg about and smiling in that infuriating, warm way of his. So it’s the latter, a silly idea currently getting implemented. Whatever the idea pertains however, is still a mystery to the usually omniscient Sorcerer.
“I have to admit to something,” that’s nearly purred, the sweet scent of baked blueberries reaching Jack’s nose, carried with a puff of breath ghosting over his skin.
“Oh? Go on.” The smile turns into something far more apologetic, a knit of two fuzzy eyebrows and slightly downturned corners of lips telling the Sorcerer that he’ll need to step in and save this moron from whatever troubles he has ran into this time.
“You see, I uhh… might have completely, absolutely, terribly forgotten to do my homework today… my apologies, professor…”
What? The gears are slowly, very slowly turning in Jack’s head. This little devious shit, gradually learning to live up to the Handsome Sorcerer’s legacy. That’s enough to send him springing to his feet, the few inches he now has over the sitting boy only stroking his ego more.
“My my, you aren’t a very diligent student are you, sugar?” A shake of a head comes and the very picture of remorseful innocence before him tries to hide the smug grin making the corners of his lips twitch. “You see, I happen to condemn corporal punishment,“ he has lied many times in his life, but this particular one nearly makes him choke on his own tongue, “but when it comes to lost cases such as yourself… I see no other option.”
That finally has Rhys breaking into a full blown smile once again and the boy cranes his neck slightly and moves to close the distance, a brush of his lips just side to the corner of Jack’s turning out to be a thinly veiled attempt at snatching a missed crumb sticking to his skin.
“That is quite dreadful…”
Of course it is, after all, the whole kingdom feared the vengeful Sorcerer, his apprentice playing with fire here.
It’s not the time nor place to continue, even more so when the girls return and he ends up sending Rhys back to his seat with a very scornful ‘I’ll deal with you later’.
The trio receives blank sheets of parchment and charcoal shavings with a stern command to get to work. He gives them an hour to brainstorm their ideas, occasionally chiming in to quell ever more ridiculous ideas. Once they are done, it’s time for carving knives and pieces of wood, splinters flying left and right as they sometimes less sometimes more skillfully give shape to their designs.
The encroaching night has swallowed the last slivers of sunlight by the time three ‘dragons’ varying in shapes and forms sit atop the table. There are stray wisps of hair sticking to their sweaty foreheads, the air heavy with heat and the smell of oils, resins and something herbal, Jack’s secret formula he mixes in a huge cauldron to pour into molds before the cooling process makes them harden.
“They are… acceptable. You kids did good.” Fiona’s is the one most realistically looking, without useless decorations or embellishments, Sasha’s somehow reminds him of a sword handle and he doesn’t question the spider-like design she has eagerly painted along the sides not the four appendages sprouted on either side. Some things are better left unanswered. Rhys’ is the most whimsical one, the kid clearly taking his inspiration from the resident real dragons mixed with the spiral design of, what he can only assume is, the Queen’s horn. That’s another thing he doesn’t need to know too many details about.
A knock on the door and soon Angel is popping her head in, shooting a brief, shy smile towards the young and narrowing her eyebrows at her Father.
“I have something for you…” she’s holding a long stretch of material, woven with the iridescent silks she can produce. A new banner with ornate letters spelling the new, improved name of their venture.