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The levi-bus shuddered as it lurched to a stop outside the Schola gates. You and Jamarco disembarked, weary but exhilarated after your first day at Zlatino. But as you stepped off the vehicle, a grim-faced Deacon Benedict was at the entrance, his usually calm demeanor replaced by raw panic.
"Thank the Emperor you're back!" he gasped, rushing towards you. His voice was strained, a stark contrast to his usual stoic pronouncements.
"Thank the Emperor you're back!" he gasped, relief flooding his weathered features. "Are you alright?"
"Deacon? What's wrong?" you stammered, alarm bells clanging in your head.
"You... you shouldn't have been sent off-site, Anon," he blurted, his eyes darting around as if searching for unseen threats. "The Schola shouldn't have... it was a mistake."
"A mistake?" you echoed, utterly confused. "Is there some danger I wasn't aware of?"
"Danger?" the Deacon repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "You might be far more important than you realize, Anon. Staying within the Schola walls is *imperative*."
Just then, Instructor Seflejo emerged from the building, her brow furrowed at the Deacon's agitated state. "Alé, Benedict," she said, her voice laced with concern. "What seems to be the trouble?"
The Deacon spun on her, his voice rising in a hiss. "Trouble? Why did you send him to the industrial district, Seflejo? Don't you understand? He can't be out there!"
Seflejo's brow furrowed in confusion. "He received an internship offer from Zlatino, Deacon. A golden opportunity for his future, wouldn't you agree?"
"Pff- Zlatino." Benedict's composure fractured. "This is no ordinary student, Seflejo!" he nearly shouted, his urgency hanging heavy in the air.
The commotion drew the attention of the monstrously obese Drill Abbot, who waddled over like a gelatinous mountain. "Benedict, Benedict," he soothed, a greasy smile plastered on his face. "Here now, calm yourself." He reached into his robes and produced a plump pouch that jingled with coins. "Little Jamarco's parents, bless their worried hearts, couldn't bear the thought of their son being all alone at Zlatino's harsh workshop. Surely you can appreciate their... generous contribution, eh? Perhaps a little reconsideration is in order?"
Benedict's eyes narrowed, his gaze burning through him. "This isn't about the money, Theophil!" he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. The coin pouch dangled limply in Abbot's hand.
"Cancel the internship. Immediately," the Deacon spat.
The Drill Abbot chuckled, a sound like oil bubbling in a vat. "Now, now, Deacon. Here at the Schola, we may take your students, but how we run our programs? That, my friend, falls outside your jurisdiction." His gaze flicked to you, a cold glint in his greasy eyes. "As for you, Anon, your quarters await. Dismissed."
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With a sigh, you tossed another pile of admirer letters onto the opulent table of your VIP quarters. Collapsing onto the vast bed, you finally got to rest for today.
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