Silas Raggm, Professor of Minor Miracles, was a quiet fellow from a humble background that tended to keep to himself. Short and frail, with pale curly hair, he had to summon up all his courage to attend the weekly staff meetings, let along make the heroic effort to attend the College's annual Solstice festival. (Too many people crowded in one room had a paralyzing effect on him.) But he persevered at a cost to himself that no one knew.
Professor Amelia Tailfethers, on the other hand, a tall confident brunette who taught Advanced Sophistry as well as related subjects, was greatly admired by herself and others. Amelia had social connections in all the right places, came from a wealthy influential family, and was whispered to have once been courted by Prince Rupert himself. She was the niece of Dean Carew, sister-in-law to Proctor Smith, and currently privately tutoring the Vice-Chancellor's daughter. Her wit was of the scathing variety, she was first on the dance floor at the Solstice festivals, and she moved through the world like an armored war horse.
Silas was like a dormouse to her destrier. A meek little fellow like himself simply did not cross her path and walk away untrampled.
But Professor Raggm believed the principles of fair play and honest labor would always triumph.
When he walked by her classroom two days ago and heard Amelia merrily deriding his recently-published treatise on
The Vagaries of Deity Blessings as blatant plagiarism, bringing amused chuckles from her audience, his heart nearly stopped with the pain of her accusations. Silas Raggm, whose family was poor but honest, who wouldn't pick up a coin off the street lest it belong to someone else, blanched to hear himself described as a thief.
Silas tossed and turned all night, finally deciding the only right thing to do was to lodge a complaint with the Oversight Committee composed of Dean Carew, Proctor Smith, and Vice-Chancellor Melchior. Surely colleagues weren't allowed to falsely accuse each other of intellectual thievery, even for their own amusement. He submitted his impassioned grievance – the shocking revelation of Professor's Tailfethers' mocking words – filling out the form in triplicate as required - and received an appointment time.
Summoning up his nerve to meet with such august personages, he tottered into the hearing chamber after he was announced, and made the proper greetings, bowing to the Committee.
The trio sat on a platform behind a heavy wooden table which was ornately carved with ancient symbols. The Dean grunted in acknowledgment, while looking bored and drumming his fingers on the table; the Vice-Chancellor shot Silas an annoyed glance and then turned his glance to a small device in his hands that garnered all his attention; Proctor Smith nodded at Silas with a vaguely sympathetic smile. To the side was the sergeant at arms next to a small podium that seated the Bells of Judgment.
A junior clerk scurried up to the sergeant and handed him a scroll.
"Hear ye, hear ye," recited the sergeant, unrolling the scroll and reading from it, "Upon a grievance being lodged by one Silas Raggm against Professor Amelia Tailfethers, heard and adjudicated by the Oversight Committee this day, the findings are as follows: the Committee unanimously finds in favor of the accused. Furthermore, the Committee finds that the grievant Silas Raggm has trespassed on the grounds of poor sportsmanship, untoward behavior towards a colleague, and wasting the Committee's time with his frivolous complaint. Let the Bells of Judgment be heard."
The sergeant handed the clerk back the scroll and prepared to strike the bells, giving the sentence.
Silas's knees buckled. He?
He was the guilty party? He glanced up at the trio on the platform, shocked, and saw nothing there to reassure him.
The bells sounded. Once, twice, three times, now four.
Four bells! Suspended from his position! Silas could scarce believe it. The clerk led him out of the hearing chamber, quickly depositing him in the hallway, and shut the door. From a distance he could see Professor Tailfethers' haughty stride, headed in this direction. Oh no!
Silas scurried outside before he could meet his nemesis and threw up in the Dean's personal flower garden. (The petunias would never be the same.) Distractedly wiping his mouth on the pale blue school pennant that fluttered nearby, he then ran into the woods like a mad thing --deeper and deeper until he was out of sight of the school. Throwing himself down on the leaf-covered ground, he sobbed.
Oh gods, what had he done? Insulted the Committee's favorite professor. Desecrated the school flag. Violated the Dean's flower garden. First, suspended. Next would be ex-communication. The shame of his existence knew no bounds. He had brought dishonor to his family. His life was over. With chapped lips, he invoked a spell that rendered him defenseless.
As night fell, and the crickets began to sing, Professor Raggm continued to lie conscious but unmoving on the cold earth, while small animals happily frolicked on his body.
