Series?… we will see.

I will leave that to the reader. Please leave your thoughts in the comments! Thank you for reading along!

“Barnabas, I feel it’s my duty to inform you that your grace period here at the School of Scribes is up.” The statement felt severe. The picture painted by the interaction thus far, bleak.

Barnabas found himself biting his lips as his eyebrows ran in the opposite direction of the slightly downcast corners of his mouth. This was serious business. The room was heavy with expectation and foreboding.

Barnabas frowned. He hadn’t meant any harm. Fredrick had basically asked for his head to turn into a Dodo’s. If he’d asked him nicely to turn him back, he might have tried but instead he’d just started squawking and chasing Barnabas in circles until he tripped on his own foot and fell to the ground. The awful spawn had then continued to peck him mercilessly.

Barnabas’s cheeks burned as he did his best not to laugh at the mental image passing through. He should have changed his stupid head back to normal right as he was lashing out to peck. How dumb would Freddy the royal jerk look bumping his head into his classmates outstretched foot?

The apprentice kicked his shoe from beneath the chair, annoyed at the missed opportunity and then embarrassed by his careless thoughts. No wonder he said the wrong things… He was never thinking about what was happening right in front of him.

Maybe, I need to focus on being present. Barnabas realized at that moment, that his mind was always ahead or behind him in time and space. It was just like Master Bartonellae was trying to explain in the morning assembly. He opened his mouth as if to offer the insight to the headmaster but paused as he captured the determination on his current overseer’s expression. Barnabas closed mouth again and remained quiet. Awaiting further explanation.

The headmaster broke the silence to reiterate the notion, “if I have to tell you to close your mouth and think about what you are saying on behalf of your guides and overseers, even one more time, it won’t be expressed in words. Not from me at least. We’ve concluded that it is in your best interest to face your repercussions without us stepping in the way. We feel this may be the fastest method to teach you what life is trying to get you to see, more clearly.”

Barnabas offered a small nod. Looking down at his hands.

Basil cleared his throat resolutely and continued, “I can never be quite sure what will come about from these lessons. I am always amazed at how clever and personal the outcomes are. Never once, in all my years here, have I seen the same repercussion dispensed twice.”

Barnabas swallowed hard. A lump had formed in his throat upon receiving the summons. The boy reached for the goblet of water he’d been given. He looked at his shaky hands. He wasn’t sure what to say. Or if the point was that he shouldn’t say anything at all unless it was meaningful, and he still wasn’t sure exactly how to gauge that.

In his mind the words he’d spoken had made perfect sense at the time. If he was honest, he was still convinced the escalation over what he’d said was, severe, in any case. His thoughts continued swirling. He sat quietly, doing his best to avoid eye contact with the headmaster.

“We talked about this the last time you were in here, I won’t repeat old lessons, I’m sure you remember the topic of that visit. You will greatly benefit from transforming your need to vocalize things into an opportunity to deepen your internal reflection of the matter and its proper and positive resolution, preferably before you speak.” Barnabas’ cheeks brightened at the subtle accusation over his impulsiveness.

“It’s like Chess.” The headmaster continued. “But in layers. Dimensions. You make a move, and the force opposing your mission makes one, and so on and so on.”

He rolled his hand in a continuous motion. A swirl of red ora was left in the wake of his fingertips. There was a depth radiating around its edges, as if the radiance had its own shadow. For a blip of time Barnabas was mesmerized by it, and all at once he came to as the headmaster was saying, “That’s if you end up finding interest in field work.”

The headmasters’ expression made him appear as if he were glowing. All the Master Scribes held the quality. It was normally activated to highlight an important truth being conveyed. It was incredible to witness. Barnabas tuned back in, listening harder than ever.

The Elder hadn’t missed a beat, Barnabas did his best to catch up. “But that’s not for everyone and that is a wonderful and exciting point to mention. If you can learn these early lessons and use them to shift your perspective and guide your way of interpreting your surroundings, natural law will direct your path into your ultimate pursuits.”

The Elders’ lips tightened and then released as he continued speaking, “You might want to begin stretching the way you relay your inside voice my dear Barnabas. It’s more important than you know to visualize what you are getting ready to vocalize, and picture yourself on the receiving end of what you are about to release. How would you like to be spoken to, what outcome would you hope to see unfold if it were you in the opposite shoes?”

The headmaster heaved a sigh. “I am sure it seems elementary, but it amazes me how unique each practice evolves, where it leads.” His gaze was far away as he mumbled the last phrase. He shook his head as if coming too from a trance and chuckled. “It is the way humanity used to communicate before it was corrupted. I know it is a difficult process in the beginning, but it does get easier, and then the lessons grow more difficult, and you grow stronger and wiser, and then it gets easier, and the cycle starts all over again.”

The lesson was spoken with kindness. The idea of it all sank in as guidance and reminders, rather than threats and warnings. The two figures sat silently, absorbing the situation from their own sides of the festive and elegantly carved desk standing between them. The Wise Master continued when the silence was complete. “Barnabas can you tell me your side of what happened?

“… We will both understand the consequences of what follows. You’ve been warned what seems a fair amount. The wind shifted when I was notified of our need for this meeting. We’ve gone over the basics together many times, you are a brilliant child Barnabas. That’s why you are here.”

The headmaster smiled at his apprentice, “Don’t cheapen your experience because you get hung up on a simple lesson necessary for moving through training with the others in your group.” The Elder rose from his chair and glid to the window. He gazed out into the vibrant courtyard below and beyond. Offering Barnabas an opportunity to speak should he wish too. When silence loomed thickest, he continued.

“So, for this repeated offence to yourself and surroundings, young Barnabas, I am going to place a final judgment on the repeated cycle, as it goes against the agreement you made, and instruction hasn’t taught what you needed to learn. It’s time for your guidance to step aside. The creed you repeated at the beginning of this seasons’ training session.” The Master paused again, as a kindness, offering the young apprentice time to collect what he was saying. “You might what to go back and revisit what your ethos states. I like to refresh it often in my own mind.” He offered.

The boy looked back at him, offering a barely visible nod. “I am leaving your punishment for speaking beneath your abilities to natural law, I and others have intervened enough and now it’s time we release you to deal with natural law without our buffer to protect you from the reactions that rise due to what you speak into life. This role, is not to be taken lightly young master.”

The room grew perceivably darker. An almost red glow radiated from the walls. As if to highlight the man speaking. The shadows the red glow cast over the headmasters’ face and folded hands painted him in an ominous light.

His voice echoed off the walls raising only in the slightest as he went. “Lazily manifesting is dangerous for our kind. Your tongue is a weapon, and your tongue is a river, and a ray of light. You choose which to embody, but you reap what you sow. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded his head rapidly, his hands slipped down to the sides of his chair, he clutched the wooden wicker of the seat, tracing a finger over the weave. It was comforting. Barnabas imagined the chair having roots that dug deep into the ground beneath. His hands and fingers and feet grew roots that dug into what was underneath and inside of them. Oh, wait. He was in trouble. He jolted from his daydream. The headmaster was midsentence and holding the summons scroll out between them as if it were a pointing stick.

“… you don’t get that luxury anymore as an apprentice. As soon as you were accepted into these walls, you entered into an agreement with Natural Law and what it answers too. This way is not one to be trifled with. It either serves you perfectly so you in turn serve it to perfection, or it trips you until you pay attention. Out there,” the headmaster pointed, insinuating in the life Barnabas had come from. “Out there, it will give you a million chances and opportunities and forgiveness’s of how horribly it is misinterpreted but in here. It will help you to relearn everything quickly through submersion into the reality you create through your thinking, speaking, and actions.”

The Wise Man counted the options out on his fingers. “The point I’m driving to is this Young Barnabas; Your agreement wasn’t with me, or this place, it was with the Roots that run through everything and extend and commune with what lies beyond all of that and more.” He spoke solemnly as if talking about an old friend. His tone was full of fondness that came with a sense of longing.

His words penetrated deep into the young scribe in training, painting an image in his mind that made his soul lurch. Barnabas tapped his toes uneasily on the cobbled stone floor. He didn’t feel capable of meeting his headmasters’ gaze.

“So. Do you understand the gravity of the agreement that you made? Not I nor anyone else in this realm of learning can be held responsible for the severity of consequences. That decision rests between you, your potential, and the one with whom you made the agreement when you decided to follow this path.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Barnabas, I am going to need an answer. A sign of comprehension.”

“Yes, Master Basil.” Barnabas murmured reverently. “I understand the gravity of the agreement.”

“I want you to think very carefully about the event that brought you in for this visit Barnabas. I will give you some time to ponder and then I want you to share with me, your side of things. That is important as the others so long as it is true to your memory of it.”

Again, the apprentice offered a small nod and looked down at the floor.

The headmaster watched Barnabas with a steady gaze. He could remember being in the child’s shoes as if it were yesterday had it not been six-hundred, or so years, since.

The transition from speaking freely to speaking purposefully was difficult enough without a uniform that induced claustrophobia.

Headmaster Basil had started his own journey as an orphan. He became a scribe’s apprentice, then a student of the arts, he’d learned his way into teaching. He rocketed into the role of Master Scribe after a stint of field training which he had returned to periodically since to keep his skills sharp. He’d travelled the realm and revisited the forests he’d appeared out of.

When he’d finally returned after a century exploring the world, he return and resume teaching at the abbey with a deeper fondness for these formative beginning stages. Now, after all these centuries Basil had finally reached the pinnacle. He was the man who’d sat across from himself when he’d been in young Barnabas’s shoes.

How could he relay all of that to a child barely starting out. How could he explain that everything would come full circle to someone so young?

Maybe that was the point. It wasn’t the boy’s duty to know where he might end up. It was his duty to become who he was meant to be, so that someday he’d see the circle of life for himself.

Basil allowed himself to appreciate the differences and similarities between his life now and then. He was grateful for every moment looking back. Of all his positions he’d held over the centuries, the role of headmaster felt most like home.

He felt like a Shepard over a peaceful field. His favorite activity of all time was looking after his prized flock. Sometimes he had to remind himself hard lessons are important. They lead, and guide, and show the experiencer what they are made of.

When Basil had returned from his travels he made sure to put his experience to use. Once he’d started his role as a Master Scribe, he realized he could accomplish new additions to the curriculum and core training as well as the changes he hoped to implement with the design of the living quarters, if he had allies.

Together with a group of motivated, likeminded scribes he had put together a list of all the improvements they could find. Since the list had been established each season brought new items to be crossed off or added.

Basil appreciated the small evolutions they’d been allowed to make as much as the large. The uniforms had been his first point of interest. He found the optimum material and fashions to improve upon free flow movement, growth, and comfort. Not only that but with each season the garb would change to cater to or improve upon the experience of the students and apprentices wearing them.

The school was a beaming learning experience, with lessons and examples budding around every corner that catered to each of the students personally in a specific way. Their homework was to follow their intuitions and gather the clues and serendipitous connections that would lead them to deeper understandings. Each week, they would write and then present their findings to the guides and elders that were assigned to them as they wandered deeper into their training, always learning more, and practicing the items in their own time.

The grounds had always been alive and buzzing with creative energy. The summer and winter storms were spectacular to witness from a window and terrifying to be caught up in the middle of. Under his guidance the school had shifted into a more peaceful, and radiant space.

The board had upgraded the facilities based on a blueprint he’d produced nearly one hundred years previously. It had taken fifty for the plan to be vetted and another fifty to be implemented. This was an exciting time. With the new additions and technologies, they had the ability to suit thousands of exclusive, budding capabilities and to foster wonder individually with each passing achievement.

As headmaster, Basil had used his position to superimpose and implement as many of the solutions on that list as he could. Any barriers he’d caught wind of were considered and rapidly responded to in ways that increased future growth.

Basil leaned into his hands. He would wait for the boy to articulate his side of things before giving the thoughts any more consideration. These lessons can be painful. The headmaster thought sadly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath willing to be patient as the silence dragged on.

Basil didn’t like to see any of his students suffer. But sometimes they refused to see or listen to the most important voice. The inside voice. He empathized deeply with the underdogs. The little ones, lost, who struggled to overcome their challenges and the insecurities they instigated. He’d been left an orphan on the doorstep of the academy. Just like Barnabas and his sister.

Basil reflected on how he’d felt when he was in Barnabas’ position. Sitting on the wrong side of the dean’s desk. Trying to impress. Trying to fit. Trying to feel any amount of comfort in knowing he’d ended up where he was for a reason.

It was students like Barnabas; gifted but careless, unsure of themselves, in need of attention and supervision while learning the ropes. They learned the hardest, but in the end, they always seemed to lead the pack when it came to putting the concepts into practice.

Basil recalled how watching the adults around him whisper and shake their heads over matters had made him feel. It had left him feeling afraid and anxious. He and his sister had found a sanctuary in a place full of guides, guardians, scribes, and nearly yearlong spring and summer seasons. And even then, Basil recalled feeling unsettled and cold for his first few years in the new place.

The headmaster remembered how easily and quickly shadowy images full of unknowns would confront him and keep him from paying attention. He had sat where young Barnabas was sitting.

Basil didn’t want those impressions to be pouring through Barnabas.

The headmaster chuckled and closed his eyes fading deeper into the memory from so long ago. Barnabas tapped his fingers against the chair. He was curious over where the Elder went when his eyes were clouded like that. But above that he was growing more nervous over the time passing between either of them talking.

Basil tapped his steepled fingers against each other. A pulse ran from his feet to the top of his head. The instructor hoped all this boy needed was confirmation and a reason to follow the training. He’d already been through so much.

Again, Basil found himself hoping the warning stuck this time, and from this point on, it was crucial that Barnabas watch his mouth and consider his words more sincerely.

Basil watched Barnabas. The boy barely moved on the chair. He was in deep thought. His eyes glued to a corner in the bottom sector of the desk.

Basil smiled slyly to himself while remaining stern on the outside. The lesson would stick this time. The expression he wore suggested as much to the elder. The old man’s mouth twitched. He was going to be alright. Better than alright.

Barnabas looked up to realize the headmaster was staring straight through him. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, only to close it again. His shoulders slumped in resignation. Basil couldn’t keep up the stern charade for much longer, the poor child was frozen. Locked up in anxiousness and indecision over what to say.

Basil softened. He smiled and then chuckled as the boys’ fear turned to confusion. Barnabas’s eyes darted back to the headmaster searching for explanation for his sudden good humor. The mood in the room instantly lightened.

“Alright are you ready to share your side of the story?” The young scribe to-be stiffly nodded. Still saying nothing. It was as if he couldn’t speak words unless they held meaning and nothing was coming to mind of high value. He was under too much pressure. Basil decided, in agreement with his internal council.

“Don’t be afraid Barnabas, be purposeful, that’s all.” Basil’s eyes gleamed with good humor.

Barnabas rubbed his eyes and squinted. He was afraid to tell the Role-Giver he was seeing a blue light radiating from his robes. He blinked back his surprised. As if trying to clear something from his vision. In the end, Barnabas said nothing on the off chance mentioning something that wasn’t to do with the currently lesson could be seen as foolish and punishable by… who knows what.

He’d seen a kid, two years ahead of himself burp out frogs, it had been terrifying, and then hilarious as they realized his punishment had been in direct correlation with what he’d been warned not to continue doing. Barnabas didn’t like the idea of something similar happening to himself. He bit his tongue and looked toward the floor.

“Barnabas.” He placed his hands together in front of him. The blue illumination traveled to the steeple his power fingers created. Each time he tapped them together little blue sparks twinkled and shot all around them.

“I,” The boy paused and then sighed in resignation. “I told Fredrick if he was going to act like a dodo he might as well look like one. I didn’t expect him to change completely. I was shocked as anyone else!”

The headmaster nodded along as he spoke. “And what was it he was doing that made him seem a dodo?”

“He just is. Everything he does. He acts like everyone owes him something. Like the fact that he showed up is enough for him to get attention.” Barnabas frowned. “He called me an orphan. Said he didn’t blame my parents for leaving us in the woods to be found by this place.” Outside of making me picture him with a dodo birds head the words didn’t affect me much. I just didn’t like the idea of Kate hearing him talk like that.

The headmaster nodded again. “So would you say what happened to poor Fredrick was fair, or just?”

Barnabas leveled a look toward Basil. “Yes.” He said without missing a beat.

“And why is that?”

“I didn’t picture anything dangerous or permanent to happen to him. Just. Something to make him think twice about what he said.”

“Don’t you think dealing out punishments should be left to something who understands balance might have been a better choice?” The wise Master scribe asked.

“Maybe, but I made my choice, Master Basil. And he made his by picking a fight with me and saying things that would make me angry. I was listening to a lesson I learned last week. Treat others how I want to be treated.”

“So, you would want someone to turn your head into a dodo’s head?” The headmaster returned the boy’s smirk.

“Well,” He thought about it for a moment, “Yes, if I was being one, I would want to know about it. It’s the painful lessons that stick. Right Master Basil?”

The headmaster chuckled. “Alright. The student becomes the teacher.”

“Barnabas. You can imagine, you can speak. But when your words or imagination target another living being or creature of any kind. It is best to not combine them unless the greatest good may be achieved by doing so. As a scribe, you will not have the luxury of expressing hatred, anger, annoyance, or fear. None of the negative realm can become a part of your reality if you hope to achieve the goal life has placed in front of you.”

Barnabas opened his mouth to respond with a question when a small knock behind the oak door broke the intensity of the moment. Barnabas remained still and quiet as the headmaster pushed his desk back and made his way to the entrance.

“Headmaster, I have Fredrick sitting in the hallway waiting to talk to you. It might be a bit hard until you get Barnabas to take back what he said. He is a little on the nippy and squawky side.”

“Thank you, Gerda.” The headmaster offered back. “Go ahead and bring him in, we will get this resolved and send them back into their lessons for the day.”

The door latch clicked shut. “Alright Barnabas, the moment of truth, will you choose forgiveness, or will you allow your peer to suffer his fate until the weight of your words wears off? Know that what you choose will impact the severity of your own punishments and consequences.” He warned as he took his seat once more.

Barnabas nodded. He pursed his lips and squinted his eyes as if the decision was a hard one. The door behind them opened.

Wooonk Woooonk Woooonk!

The dodo announced its entry with a loud lament. Barnabas burst into unintentional laughter as he looked over his shoulder to watch Fredrick approach. When dodo’s head turned to see Barnabas sitting there, laughing himself to tears, it hissed and honked louder rushing toward him to peck him on top of his head. He grabbed a clump of the boy’s locks and pulled.

“Ouch! Knock it off or I won’t turn you back!” Barnabas cried. Fredrick stepped back, craning his long birdlike neck to hiss his dislike for the other boy. Barnabas crossed his arms and smiled at his nemesis. “Okay, fine, I will forgive you for being rude and saying what you said. I take back my statement.”

Nothing happened.

“I take it back. You are released from having a dodo brain.” Again, nothing happened. Barnabas looked uncertainly back at the headmaster. His face betrayed nothing of what he might be thinking. After a short pause he broke through the incessant honking.

“Well, this is strange indeed.” A small smile collected over the headmasters’ face. “It appears my dear boys, that you’ve both stumbled into your next lesson.”

The sparks shooting from his tapping fingers were forest and electric green. It was beautiful and distracting. Barnabas was still getting used to all of this. He tore away from the miniature fireworks show and looked at his new lesson mate.

A sneer curled over his lips. A feeling of complete distaste washed through him. The nasty bird brain was staring at him out of his beady little dodo eyes. As soon as their eyes met Fredrick opened his massive beak into a silent hiss. At least Barnabas could rest assured the feeling was mutual. For some reason it made him feel better.

“Barnabas, may I ask why you are laughing at your new accomplice. That isn’t a good way to begin an alliance.”

Barnabas snapped to attention, eyes forward. “Sorry Headmaster. I was just thinking about how cool this lesson already is.”

Headmaster Basil cocked his head.

“I mean, I only mean that, well, at least now we know what a dodo’s upper body looks and sounds like.” He burst into a fit of laughter that then turned to braying. The headmaster’s eyes grew the slightest bit in surprise.

“Well now, isn’t this interesting.” His face glittered with good humor.

Barnabas brought his hands to his head. It felt heavier. He pulled his fingers through the buzzed mane of a donkey and followed along his furry faces’ outline until his fingertips reached and grazed over massive floppy ears.

Hee-Haw! Hee-Haw! Barnabas lamented loudly.

The headmaster lifted his hands out in front of himself. A calming soft pink glow filled the entire space, “I know you think you are speaking to me, the both of you, but I assure you that your language has been made foreign to me.”

The room fell silent. Huge tears had entered the corners of his bulging eyes. Hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-haw.

“Cheer up my young apprentices.” He rubbed his hands together. “This is but a lesson, the sooner the pearl is found, as soon as you uncover the treasure, the gold is yours forever. This will produce a wealth of knowledge I can feel it in the air.” He took a deep reverent breath in. His eyes sparkled with excitement.

Headmaster Basil clapped his hands together, “Alright then, meeting adjourned. Treat this lesson no different than any other. Go and speak to Master Franny and Master Rael. They will help you uncover your first leads.”

The two boys stood. Their eyes remained on the headmaster until he signaled their dismissal. They scuttled and loped to the door. As the door closed quietly behind them the headmaster burst into gleeful laughter. “Aren’t you unpredictable as always. So playful.” He chuckled his satisfaction at the joke and closed his eyes, following his pupils down the hallway as the did their best not to break into war.

To Be Continued…

Thank you for stopping in! If you’d like to see more from this storyline it’s being held hostage until it gains a little traction… Without a little feedback it might just stay gone forever. That would be really sad since I think this one is pretty cool. So, if you want to free the scribe please feel free to feed it comments, subscribes, shares, monitary donations. All of the above are entirely appreciated!

Have a beautiful day!