A Bored Lich

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'To think that all of this was gathered by a servant.' Larque said as Cerlius read through Olpi's letter. 'It even lists locations to talk, instructors' mannerisms, details of the Magic Academy's facilities, and schedules; this is an impressive amount of information that Olpi has gathered. I don't trust it.'

'I, on the other hand, do,' Cerlius said as he folded the letter up. 'She has nothing to gain from misleading us, and we already displayed what we do to people who get in our way. She probably made it this far because she studied the academy like a book, learning how it ticks. I'd do…similar things in her position, but maybe not as passive.' He frowned. 'It's a shame. She knows about all this, but she doesn't seem willing to act on it, almost like she refuses to manipulate people.'

'All the better.' Larque smirked. 'So much untapped potential, ripe for the taking.' A low growl invaded the silent Meditation Chamber. 'I'm a little hungry. If you wouldn't mind.' Cerlius rolled his eyes and spent the rest of the hour digging up as much hatred as he could muster, yet at the end it only made Larque sigh. 'It's nothing compared to Doev…your old self, but it'll have to do.'

'I can't just switch between states of being so easily.'

'After watching you for this long,' Larque remarked. 'I beg to differ.'

After the hour was up, the first years gathered in the Mess Hall for dinner. As Doevm neared his usual spot, an isolated corner, something struck his back. He tumbled forward and barely managed to catch himself, preventing his head from smashing into a table's sharp corner. Someone chuckled as he whipped around, but the tide of passing students provided enough cover for whoever pushed him.

He cursed and looked for Travis, but the student in question was at the opposite side of the Mess Hall. He stared absently his table full of notes, occasionally grabbing a paper, crumbling it up, and throwing it over his shoulder.

Cerlius lurched forward as an elbow caught the back of his head, followed by more chuckling. 'It's only a matter of time,' Larque said. 'Until that vacuum of power is filled. You can bet that you'll be the first to know when it does.'

Everyone sat and, even though there was no evidence, Cerlius's gaze gravitated towards Travis's old crones, who kept glancing at him. The Demis arrived with steaming plates of the same, boring fish; cooked the exact same way as the prior meals. 'Why me?' Cerlius thought.

'Probably because you emasculated Travis, the previous representation of power. Now there is an open seat, and someone has to sit there. You of all people should know what Humans do in that kind of situation.'

'I have other things to worry about,' Cerlius thought, staring at Olpi as she made her way over.

She handed Cerlius a dish. Her sleeves were longer than usual, covering her hands. Cerlius grabbed onto the bottom of the plate, which lightly seared the tips of his fingers. He made no indication of the pain, even as he pushed his reddening hand flat. After all, a thin note could hardly insulate him. Luckily Olpi's dark sleeve was easy to reach. A simple flick of the wrist and no one was the wiser. Olpi moved to serve another student.

The food might look the same, but every meal tasted worse than the last. Glancing around, the other students seemed to be having the same thoughts. The worst was the oil, which clung to the back of the throat. 'Deal with it or not,' Larque said. 'You're going to be challenged. You're going to be picked on. It seems that your example only worked on Travis.'

'Why me?' Cerlius asked.

"Because you stand out." Lance explained to Cerlius the first thing after dinner. Most of the first years may have returned to their quarters, but disciples always had additional schooling. "I should know," Lance sighed as the obsidian door to his office folded back into place. "I was in the same position as you once upon a time."

Cerlius pulled a seat out for his master to sit and raised an eyebrow. "Really? I wouldn't have thought you to…"

"Be bullied?" Lance swept a hand, gesturing to all the neat stacks of paper and books in his office. "Normal is an average. It's actually not common to be normal. Everyone sticks out. It's all a matter of to which degree they stick out."

Cerlius blinked, looking at Lance a little differently. "And how do I fix that? How do I blend in more? If I don't blend in, I'm going to take someone's head off and get thrown in the Dimmer again. I don't want to bother with tearing through every single one of my peers."

"Looks like you could use something to calm you down," Lance placed a tray of sweets on the desk, which they both immediately partook in. Cerlius let himself relax as the dry sugar took away the fish's oily aftertaste. "The short answer is that you're not expressive and you don't talk to people. In order to be "normal", you need to bond and make friends."

"I thought I did that," Cerlius shrugged.

Lance gave a faint, pitiful smile. "I don't count. That might even be one of the reasons you're a target. No one likes a know-it-all or a teacher's pet. Just learn how to be the most common person's picture of normality." He glanced out the window. The orange and purple rays shifted to softer dark blues as the moon peaked out of the clouds. "I'm sorry to cut it short but we need to get started with the lesson."

Lance pushed the sweets to the side and placed a mound of papers on the desk, but his eyes wandered to his mangled arm and ink-stained sleeves. He let out a long sigh. "Actually…maybe we should deal with this now. Here's what I'll do: I'll split the lesson. Is that good with you?" Cerlius nodded.

"We'll start with a smile." Lance put on a smile but even Cerlius know that it was fake. "Smiles and laugher are a good start, but they have to seem real. People like us, who display little emotion, give people the creeps. We would look like psychopaths if we gave fake emotions. They don't truly feel." He looked at Cerlius expectantly.

"No, I'm not psychotic." Cerlius chuckled. They both looked to the truth-seeking orb, which stayed dull. "Out of curiosity, why do you ask?"

Lance shrugged. "Just checking a theory. The last dark mage that I knew turned out to be a psycho, although no one could tell. It was as if in, one day she became a different person entirely. She had this great broad smile." He used his fingers to adjust his smile to appear more real, happy. Cerlius, however, didn't see happiness. He saw something familiar, someone dangerous. He stood up, nearly fumbling over his chair. A red-haired face flashed in his mind.

Lance furrowed his brows. "I am not psychotic either." The orb remained dull. "You know very well that I have feelings, feelings which you just hurt by the way. You can just tell if someone is by how they act. Psychopaths are charismatic. They can read people like books. They can turn empathy on and off again like a switch. They're the most dangerous kind of person."

"You mean Human," Cerlius muttered.