Donovan blinked, looking around groggily, snapping out of a daydream as he met Mason's frustrated gaze.
"Come on…" Mason sighed, walking back towards George and the instructor. He didn't have the energy to scold Donovan; he wasn't the type to nag.
"Where are we going?" Donovan asked, still disoriented.
"Just follow me."
When they reached George and the instructor, Mason turned to Donovan with a more serious tone. "This kid claims to know Sir Michael personally and wants to be excused from attending the Great Wizard's speech. I need you to confirm with Sir Michael if this is true."
Donovan glanced at George, his face vaguely familiar from the list. "Alright," he said before turning and walking out of the building, leaving the three behind in awkward silence.
"So, uh, what do we do while we wait?" the instructor asked, breaking the stillness.
"We'll wait in your office. Is that alright?" Mason suggested.
The instructor, slightly embarrassed, nodded. "It's a bit messy, but sure. If you're okay with that."
"Sounds good to me," George chimed in, trying to keep his cool.
#
Donovan rode his horse swiftly toward the Emerald City Castle, gripping the reins tightly as the speed rattled him. He knew one wrong move could send both him and the horse tumbling, but time was pressing.
He skidded to a halt in front of the towering green gates, where two guards stood at attention. "Halt! Let's see some ID!" one guard called, unable to make out the rider in the distance. As Donovan came closer, their posture relaxed.
"Donovan, what brings you here in such a hurry?" one of them asked, recognizing his face.
"I don't have much time. I need to speak with Sir Michael."
The guards exchanged glances before one of them spoke. "I'm afraid Sir Michael isn't at the castle right now."
Donovan frowned. "Where is he?"
"He's gone to one of the nobles' estates. Not far from here. Let me write down the address," the guard said, scribbling the directions on a piece of paper before handing it over.
"Thanks," Donovan muttered before galloping off once more, following the address.
He arrived in one of the wealthier neighborhoods of the city, where the houses, though extravagant, lacked the signature green of the castle. Tying his horse to the iron gate of the property, he made his way to the entrance.
The private guards didn't question Donovan's authority, but another Emerald City guard stepped forward to intercept him. "Donovan, why are you here?"
"Mason Wolfe sent me. He needs me to confirm something important with Sir Michael."
At the mention of Mason's name, the guard nodded. "I'll have to check with Sir Michael first. Wait here."
Donovan stood at the gate, surveying the area as the guard disappeared into the estate.
#
Inside the noble's house, the contrast between the immaculate exterior and the chaotic interior was striking. Michael was standing on a chair, his hands gesturing wildly.
"I told you, Senator, you cannot build a golden statue of a beaver! I can't believe I'm even having this conversation!" Michael's voice echoed through the room, exasperated.
The Senator, his face twisted in disappointment, replied, "Why not? The people love beavers."
"No!" Michael snapped, stepping off the chair. "No beavers!"
"Sir," a guard interrupted, entering the room cautiously.
Michael sighed, rubbing his temples. "What is it now?"
"One of the Emerald City guards is here to see you. Donovan's his name."
Michael frowned, trying to place the name. "Fine, I'll meet him outside. I'm done here anyway." As he was about to leave, the guard handed him a letter.
"The bank sent this. Seems important."
Michael pocketed the letter, more irritated than concerned. "Didn't even send it to the castle... I'll look at it later. Let's go."
Outside, Donovan was waiting patiently. As soon as Michael appeared, Donovan got straight to the point.
"Sir Michael, I won't take much of your time. There's a kid at the academy claiming to know you."
"And who's this kid?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.
"George. He's one of the names on the protected list."
Michael's eyes widened slightly. 'This could have gone south fast.' He nodded at Donovan, composing himself. "Yeah, I know him. What does he need?"
"He's asking to be excused from the Great Wizard's speech."
Michael closed his eyes briefly, a wave of relief washing over him. "That's fine. Let him be excused. He's with me."
Donovan had expected Michael to deny knowing George, but this shifted his understanding. 'Does everyone on that list know Michael personally?' he wondered. "Understood, sir. I'll get back now."
#
Back at the academy, George, Mason, and the instructor sat in the cluttered office, waiting. Mason glanced between the two, weighing their expressions. George seemed composed, too composed. Mason still had his doubts—why would a kid from a fallen noble family know Sir Michael, the Great Wizard's right-hand man?
'This kid must be bluffing,' the instructor thought, crossing his arms. But George's unwavering confidence made him pause, second-guessing his own assumptions.
Suddenly, Donovan burst into the room. "Michael confirmed it. He knows George."
"No way," the instructor muttered, turning to George in disbelief.
Mason exhaled deeply. "Well, I guess I'll request your leave from the headmaster."
"Thanks," George replied, the weight lifting from his shoulders.
"But how… Why does he know Sir Michael?" the instructor pressed, still trying to wrap his head around it.
His question was left hanging as they heard footsteps racing past the office.
"What was that?" Mason asked, turning towards the door.
George shrugged. "Probably just some kid running down the hallway."
Meanwhile, Jame, clutching his notebook, ran down the hall, his eyes wide with excitement. "This is huge!" he whispered, already scribbling down the details of everything he'd overheard.