Algernon peaked out his window; in the distance he could see the fading lights of Crosstown Court. He lived on the edge of uptown, the only place a impoverish galdor could afford. His parents had taken to paying most of his income and buying most of his clothes personally.

The previous morning, without notice, Algernon left his office. The only evidence that he wasn’t leaving for a quick snack break was the note lying on his desk. It read:

I CAN’T HANDLE IT ANYMORE.

Needless to say, most of his colleagues were dumbfounded. “Flighty” was the correct word to describe him in the days before, but none were expecting him to leave. He hadn’t spoken to anyone, only doing what was asked of him and nothing less. He would usually do what was asked and more. He was always trying to impress his superiors. When lunch came, he would eat on his own and eat very little. He was not the same, at all.

As he stared at the dying city, he downed a bottle of wine. His drinking had increased rapidly, almost to the point of gluttony. He had a talent for drowning his sorrows in a bottle of fine Bastian wine. During his first year at Brunnhold, he decided to take up drinking to distract himself from not seeing his family. His addiction quelled after a few years, and until the deaths, he had a drink only once every now and then.

After finishing the last drop of the Bastian drink of choice, Algernon retreated back to his study. Books upon books filled his trunk to the brim. The only subjects they detailed were Living magic and the science of healing. Algernon was already well versed in the ways of living magic, even managing to learn a few intermediate spells in his last year at university. He always had a Living grimiore on him; he never wanted to not be without it.

Life in Vienda was slowly killing him. Algernon’s basic instinct was to help; it overwhelmed him everywhere he went. When he saved a man at a garden party, he was filled with extreme happiness. He wanted to help everyone, he wanted to help Hesse, he even wanted to stay in Hesse and help his parents with his grandfather; He just wanted to help. Alas, neither the city nor his current job would allow him the freedom to save people.

After placing the last publication (Plumgrove’s Medical Encyclopedia, vol VI) into his chest, he slowly made his way for the front door. A plain black carriage sat outside the house. The driver, a human looking to be in his mid-thirties, sat in the front seat smoking a cigarillo.

“Boy, can you carry this to the storage compartment?” Algernon’s voice was monotone and indifferent. The man quickly complied with his employer’s words. He lifted the trunk as if it was a sack of bread. No real problem for a human, thought Algernon.

After the driver had stored the chest, he returned to his seat and his smoke. Algernon decided to leave everything else to the next owner; everyone loved an already furnished house. Leaving the key on the mat, he made his way to the carriage.

After making himself comfortable, he found his thoughts racing. They asked tedious and meaningless questions, questions Algernon didn’t want to hear. After a minute, Algernon was able to silence his mind; he took out his pipe and started puffing. After relaxing and calming down, he finally said:

“To Brunnhold!”