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Today, Headmaster Tolsten asked me for a word. This was... alarming, as the only previous times this has happened in my decades-long tenure as the head of security on the grounds of this Academy were when a threat needed eliminating. Fortunately, this was not the case.

Tolsten sat behind his desk, looking as always bothered by my arrival at his door. To my surprise, Count Meunier was there as well.

"I apologize, but there is nothing I can do to soften the blow of my appearance," I reminded them. Master Tolsten shook his head.

"Dubhan, sit. Please."

I did.

"You're... I'm sure you can't be ignorant of Lady Brannagh's passing?" he asked me.

"I am aware of the late Lady's condition, yes."

"Then you'll understand why we're searching for another professor of law." Tolsten crossed his arms, looking at a loss.

"I suggested we bring you on," the Count filled in.

It was lucky I was sitting. "Do you think that wise?" I asked.

"I think it folly not to consider it," the Count said. "You're older and wiser and probably have a lot better things to do with your time than wander around the grounds on horseback."

"That does not mean I am a suitable teacher," I pointed out.

"Did you even meet Lady Brannagh? Old girl was hell on wheels on the best of days," the Count said.

"Sidgeir!" scolded the headmaster. "What I, what we mean to say is that the school needs a professor who is well-versed in the customs and ways of many different civilizations."

"And so you thought of me."

"Precisely," said the Count. "If nothing else, you can't discount the audacity of the idea."

Silence fell. I considered it. They had a point.

"Are you completely certain this is the path you wish to take?" I asked. "Unlike the Lady, I will not die off and require replacement."

"All the better." Tolsten stood up, hesitantly extending his hand. "What do you say?"

I have nothing to lose. Perhaps teaching law is for the benefit of us all. I have been here for six years shy of three hundred as a watchman, I should like to think my skills have better use.

Chiyohime, the fighting instructor, is working overtime to ensure there are no similar incidents to Prince Espinosa's utter bludgeoning of a peasant boy. The poor woman is tasked with security more often than our guardsmen.

I have floated the suggestion of reinforcing the wall between the school and the city by Master Tolsten. We shall see what he thinks. If students continue abusing their power around the citizens of Staffordshire, we may have more than an incident on our hands.

A wall has been built. The guardsmen have finally been given something to do. Is it shameful that I have seen a handful of them sitting in on Chiyohime's archery lessons? I can only hope they're improving.

They will have all summer to do so. The graduating class this year consisted of only the two fae princes. Princess Miela has managed to fail her courseload yet another year. At least now I do not feel out of place in bringing her shoddy grades to the attention of her mother—it appears the poor girl has never been instructed in written language. No wonder she continues to underperform. The Count is schooling her over the summer to bring her up to speed. Hopefully, she will graduate next year. How something of this magnitude escaped all six professors, all four of her years is beyond me.

Signora is busy organizing an event for next year, though she will not say what. She has long lamented the absence of tradition at the school. I expect that if anyone were to fix that, it would be our fierce Signora.

On a personal note, I do not feel wrong in saying that the staff have finally grown used to me. I daresay Count Meunier was right. A grim dose of finality in the law department may have been just what the school needed.

The new students are here. Fewer than last year. The staff have been doing their best to hide the reason from me, but it is not far from my (admittedly limited) imagination. Master Tolsten has shown no intention of dismissing me. Not yet, at least.

A prince from the Song Dynasty has at last reached our shores. The Count is having a hard time finding things for him to do while he still learns the English tongue. He is progressing rapidly, but perhaps not rapidly enough. Prince Chien Li is getting on admirably with Princess Miela, however. Perhaps it is their shared difficulty in language that has brought them together.

The wall is holding up nicely. I have left instructions for the new head of security to pick up where his predecessor left off. Hopefully, this decorated general will do better at corralling the guardsmen than Frau Bjanca did.

Count Meunier's "project" is not going well. I do not know why he asked my help, I cannot possibly be of assistance. I am a being of death, but my presence is several universes away from being akin to murder. He may ask all he likes, but I cannot make his tree grow any faster by abstaining from walking on the grounds.

Gods be praised. Tolsten has granted me tomorrow off. Hopefully, this can hold true throughout my tenure.

The Count is in an absolute uproar. Someone thought it funny to kill the sapling he planted on the grounds. Had Chiyohime not trapped him in the dungeon, he would undoubtedly be out for blood. I can hear him screeching from below the floor of this room. I have my suspicions as to the culprit, but I will keep names to myself. I expect no one on payroll to object.

Master Tolsten is launching an investigation into the disappearance of several books over the past fortnight. The staff's quarters have already been searched. While I admit to having kept Signora's copy of [illegible] a few days longer than was probably necessary, I cannot for the life of me explain why someone thought to make off with the library's master copy of the English language primer.

Peculiar. I have discovered that the one who left the little wrapped box outside my door last weekend was Prince Espinosa. He looked disappointed when I told him I hadn't opened it. I had rather thought he disliked me. (Inside was a blown-glass figurine of a friendly-looking bear. What in the name of Samhain am I to do with this? Moreover, where on campus did he have the time and space to set up glass-blowing equipment? Must investigate.)

Master Tolsten has granted Chiyohime permission to give the Count a holy circle of magic with which to protect his new sapling. When he is not teaching class, he is outside sitting right beside it. I cannot imagine why he is so protective of this tree. The grounds are mostly barren, yes, but a young tree hardly warrants this sort of protection. Perhaps he will let me in on the secret. If nothing else has come from the Count's odd pursuit, I am allowed to walk the grounds again. I am glad my presence is no longer associated with pestilence and famine.

Signora's busywork has paid off, it seems. There is a ball being held tonight. I am not attending. (What would I do? A jig? I thank you not.) I did enjoy watching the princes and princesses traipse into the dining hall wearing their finest gowns and robes, though.

We have received news of the Duke of Aquitaine's passing. Beyond this, nothing. The number of students is dwindling, our enrollments for next term are uninspiring at best.

The Count and I have been working to build up the stables, as the increasing number of mounted military units increases. Our boys and girls must know how to lead, but also how to ride. What good is a tactical advantage if the leader itself falls off the horse?

Master Tolsten has been vetting possible riding teachers. It is slow going, as expected. I should offer my services had I not grown so fond of my position in law.

Small party tonight. Our friend Yongshu has obtained his jinshi degree not four years after graduating from our halls. It is, truth be told, not the first time he has attempted the imperial exam, but this is his first pass. And the only one he shall need—this will send him down a wonderful, illustrious path. I am disappointed he stepped down from leadership, but we all have high hopes for him.

The news is lost on our students. They are concerned with graduation and studying for finals. As far as they are concerned, the goings-on in the East do not concern them. Hopefully, their ignorance can remain blissful.

I have been pulled from the school for a day or two. King Olaf II of Norway has made a mistake.

He looked dreadful. Three wounds, the last of which had gone under his mail shirt. Thorir Hund and the pagan farmers decimated the crew. Ultan and I worked all night to round up the dead. I do not envy whoever must clear up the rest of the material mess.

"Professor?" asked the fallen King. "Have I failed?"

"Perhaps, King Olafr Haraldsson."

He looked crushed. They always do.