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Merle is alone in his office today. All he can hear is the patter of rain falling onto the street outside his window. Storm clouds filling the sky make it seem much later in the day than it is. It’s not often that Wizard City sees anything other than blue skies, but as the saying goes literally, “when it rains, it pours.” From his desk, he can see that the Commons is all but abandoned. His students must have turned to indoor entertainment for the afternoon. He must say – he’s glad he doesn’t have any meetings scheduled.
He squints down at his work, just barely able to read the words in front of him. The first paper he picks up is a budget proposal for the following year, one that would allocate more resources to the balance school. It would give them enough to turn parts of Golem Tower into classrooms and offices and still have some left over. He’ll sign off on it, of course; he just needs to make sure the numbers are correct… He should turn on his lamp. His eyesight isn’t what it used to be.
Merle turns on his desk lamp, letting a warm, yellow light wash over the surface of his desk. The paper under the proposal is a note from Halston, inquiring if there’s any way Merle can create a special circumstances scholarship for an exceptional young student from Marleybone currently seeking refuge in Wizard City from some family feud gone very, very wrong. He’ll approve this one, too. It’s not the first time he’s given out a full scholarship, and it certainly won’t be the last. He believes that all young wizards are entitled to a quality education. It’s why he’s founded a school in the first place. He writes out a quick reply to tell Halston that he’ll do it first thing tomorrow, and he sets that paper aside to be sent the next day.
The last item in this pile of documents is a folder. He flips the cover open and skims the first few lines. He feels a smile reach his tired eyes. It’s Malorn Ashthorn’s application for a permanent position as an assistant teacher of death. Merle had been hoping Malorn would take him up on the offer that he presented to him at his graduation. Years ago, he worried that it wouldn’t be fair to impress such a great responsibility on such a young wizard, but Malorn proved him wrong every chance he got. Merle recognizes a bit of himself in his former student who took an unprecedented challenge in stride: a true example of what it means to go above and beyond and to be dedicated to one’s craft. He marks Malorn’s application as ‘accepted’ and makes a mental note to send him his congratulations tomorrow.
Then, only one pile remains. It’s been in the corner of Merle’s desk for what feels like ages. He would have chosen to ignore it and leave the office part of his house for the day had it not been for a new paper materializing directly over the pile with a soft *POP* and floating down neatly to meet the others.
He knows what it says. He doesn’t want to read it. But he just can't stop himself.
It’s another letter from the Wizard, somewhere in Khrysalis, begging for some sort of help. For some guidance. They have their companions, but it’s not enough. Morganthe is just too dangerous, and they need backup. They can’t face her alone. What are they supposed to do when the time comes? And why won’t Merle say something, anything ?
There’s nothing Merle wants more than to write back immediately, pledging his support, rallying the Council of Light to be physically at the Wizard’s side when they face Morganthe for the final time, but he can’t. By this time, the Wizard has wandered into places of such shadow that the Council can’t reach them. Yet for reasons he can’t explain, Merle has been able to receive correspondence from the Wizard’s side. In a way, it’s a blessing that Merle can receive their messages. It’s how he knows the Wizard hasn’t died yet. It’s no concrete evidence of their safety or overall wellbeing, but at least he knows that at the moment they sent the letter, they were still out there.
It’s not for lack of effort that Merle doesn’t answer the Wizard’s pleas. It wasn’t until recently that their channel of communication collapsed, when the Wizard ventured further into Khrysalis. Since then, he’s consulted his colleagues, both at Ravenwood and in the Council of Light, for help, but no matter how far back they’re able to trace the Wizard’s messages, they simply cannot send anything through to Khrysalis. They haven’t given up on a solution; Merle himself still desperately researches ways to contact the Wizard. But for the moment, the Wizard’s letters go unanswered.
Merle puts down this newest letter. He still isn’t any closer to finding a solution, so the Wizard will just have to wait another day. He hopes they don’t think the Council, that Merle, abandoned them. He can almost picture them now… Alone, or maybe with their companions, somewhere in the darkest corners of Khrysalis. Alive, or maybe dead. He must remember that the letter only guarantees an instant.
Merle leans back in his chair and rubs his temples to try to stop the headache he feels creeping in. He’s always had faith in the Wizard to do what was right, and the Wizard has always had faith in him to be there for them.
If… no, when the Wizard returns, he hopes they can forgive him.