Tinkletonkle Rattail, the fifteenth Chosen One. A green creature, small in height, young, says he will live at least another thousand years. He has proven uninterested in magic but extremely interested in our culture, economy, and history. I have found him in the Great Library countless times, reading tome after tome. Perhaps he can search our records and history for helpful information regarding the Red Death. We will consider academics to advance their magical talent. As of present, he is not much beyond a first year. We eagerly await his manifestation. Further evaluation will be required.
From the official records and expectations of the Chosen Ones.
Tinkletonkle Rattail
Expectation Rating: Extremely Low.
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"Holy fuck, ye completely and totally lack all magical talent."
Mr. Keeper was drenched in sweat as he stood in the open gardens inside the Gilded Towers.
"I—"
He continued his battering of insults.
"A fuckin' rat has more magical talent than ye."
"I mean, I just—"
Gwyn panted. It was hot outside, and she hadn't had anything to drink since her arrival.
"I think I have more magic power in my cock, than ye do in yer entire body."
Mr. Keeper relayed this information not as a joke, but as an irrefutable fact.
Gwyn waited for him to speak again, but when he didn't, she said.
"I just—"
"And another thing!"
Mr. Keeper interrupted for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Can I get one fuckin' word in with you?" A few scribes strolling through the gardens had stopped and looked at Gwyn. She glared at them. "What are you looking at?"
The two scribes hurried off back inside the Gilded Towers.
A malevolent smile spread across his face.
"Ah. So, ye can get angry."
Gwyn placed her hands to her hips.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Missy. This whole time, I've been fuckin' with ye," Mr. Keeper admitted, as if it wasn't obvious. "Aye, I admit. I'm not qualified to do magic. I learned lesser magic about eight hundred years ago and haven't used a wand since then."
"What about earlier?"
"Lesser magic, it was." He said, nodding his head. "Snakes were harmless, an illusion. Couldn't hurt ye even if I wanted to."
"You're telling me you read all day; you probably know more than anyone in this kingdom. Yet, you can't teach me magic?" She paused, thinking for a second. "Not even lesser magic?"
Whatever that is.
"Aye."
Gwyn sighed and placed her hand on her face, massaging her scalp.
"Missy… what was yer name… Elizabeth."
"Gwyn!" She shouted. "That's not even close! Did you listen to me at all when we were talking?"
"I listened when you told me about the little game sticks and, um, the moving pictures. Those were pretty interesting."
Gwyn scowled at him now.
"But I'm not?"
His cheeks darkened.
"I mean, I wouldn't say that."
Gwyn shook her head and found some shade under a tree whose bark was patchy like a quilted blanket. The leaves were of inconsistent shapes. She picked up a fallen leaf and inspected it.
Five years to kill the King of Terror.
That ugly thought wiggled its way back into her mind.
"Why can't this be easy? Why can't I just be powerful, imposing, and have people admire me through no action of my own? Be blessed by a god and… blow shit up."
Gwyn thought of Superman. A hero who normally didn't blow shit up, but he did defeat evil, virtually indestructible except for Kryptonite, which was a lazy storytelling device, in her opinion.
This world or even magic itself felt like her Kryptonite. She just spent the last… whoever knows how long repeating what Mr. Keeper said. Over and over again, and it all felt like some prank.
When are the cameras showing up?
She chuckled to herself as Mr. Keeper knelt beside her. His constant scowl tried to form a more sympathetic expression.
"I did try to teach ye at first. Honestly, I did." He looked toward the ground. "But you couldn't even grasp the basics."
Is he blaming me right now?
Gwyn almost laughed.
"You just told me, 'Go on and errrr, put yer hands out and think about stuff ya wanna do'!"
Gwyn performed her best "Mr. Keeper" impression. Which wasn't very good, but got the point across.
"I didn't say that exactly…" Mr. Keeper said quietly.
"That is, quite literally, exactly what you said."
"Point is. I like ye. I think ye have potential. But it's not you. It's me."
Is he breaking up with me right now?
"It's errrrr… I'm not a good teacher, that's all. I suggest ye attend Kaldere Academy." Mr. Keeper placed his wand back into his cloak. "I'll let the Head Whisperer know and—"
"Don't tell him." Gwyn's eyes shifted from the ground to him. "He's… Insane."
"Insane?" Mr. Keeper laughed. "Maybe a little… weird, but not insane."
Gwyn wasn't so sure. The resentment grew within her, or maybe it was guilt. She didn't know.
"Whatever."
"How bad could it be, right?" Mr. Keeper tried to sound optimistic. "Ye know, I had all the Lotman crawlin' over me in my college days."
He lied. He was a loner then, and a loner now, but Gwyn didn't have to know that.
She eyed him dubiously.
"How bad could it be?" A chuckle erupted from her. "You tell me. I have been here for approximately..."
Gwyn looked at her wrist, which was just her wrist. It didn't contain a watch and had no way of telling time.
"Who knows how long and I have nearly fallen off a floating disk thing, bathed naked in front of two creepy men, gotten told I'm going to die, harassed and laughed at, banged my head into a pillar, had snakes wrapped around me."
She glared at Mr. Keeper.
"Sorry about that."
Gwyn sighed.
"It's no problem."
This indeed was a very bad day.
"And that's all before…" She looked up towards the sky, but the tree canopy blocked her vision. "Noon, I'm guessing."
Mr. Keeper anxiously rubbed his hands together.
"I…" He hesitated. "I'm sorry."
Gwyn closed her eyes for a second. It felt so good for her eyes to be closed. The warm day was far more comfortable under this tree.
"I'm going to find my room, with a wonderous toilet, allegedly, then go to bed."
Gwyn turned her head and saw a lovely patch of foreign flowers. Little insects buzzed between them. The interdimensional jet lag hit her like a freight train.
"Come on, who cares about a toilet? It's midday! There is still plenty more for ye to learn."
Truthfully, his social battery had run out, and he wanted to be alone in the library again. He crossed his fingers, hoping she didn't call his bluff.
"I'll be fine, Mr. Keeper."
Gwyn looked over to him, then embraced him. Mr. Keeper's face flushed, and he wanted to say more but couldn't find the words. He watched as she stood up and walked back into the Gilded Towers.
A pang of guilt washed over him as she slowly walked away.