It was Festival Day at Lumrin Academy of Magic. It was the only day of the year that the normally closed and magically protected field of the school was open to the public. On any other day if anyone tried to climb the gilded gates that surrounded the field, they would be forcibly ejected and thrown towards one of the designated landing points outside the gates. No one was ever hurt, but the ride was disorienting, and the city was responsible for cleaning up any puke that was expelled during the experience.

  On Festival Day the field was filled to the brim with booths, stalls and other types of small spaces for businesses, clubs, charities and groups to either provide or advertise their services. Many of the participants were from the city of Lumris, but many others came from farther cities in hopes of bringing some commerce their way. The Lumrin Academy even had their sets of stalls to allow the non-magical community to see what kind of things the school did.

  All of this was said as much in the pamphlet that was handed to Castelle as he waited in line to enter the festival. A line that stretched from the field gate, through the city and all the way to the docks, which was about a two hours walk. The city had to shut down certain streets so that the line didn’t interfere with the lives of those who didn’t or couldn’t attend the festival.

  Castelle had been waiting in that line since the previous evening. When the field gates had opened, which was an hour earlier than last year, there was a two hour wait to enter from his point in line. Waiting in line for that long would make most people sleepy and liable to lose their place in line from lack of attentiveness. However, thanks to the mental potion his assistant had brewed him, Castelle was able to not only stay awake, but could block out the unending noise of people talking and yelling and being a general nuisance. He wished that she was able to come with him, so he at least had someone to talk to. With nothing else to do, he had stared at the same stone wall all night, while occasionally listening to others' conversations, which were less interesting than the wall.

  The light of the morning had begun to turn from orange to yellow when Castelle made it to the entrance. The gates, which glimmered gold in the light of the sun, were open and there were two women and a man standing next to each other wearing brown and green robes. Colors that Castelle had tried to get the headmistress to change back when he attended.

  When it was his turn, the women in the middle of the three motioned for him. He walked up and handed a silver coin to her.

  “It’s good to see you again Mr. Dovetail.” The woman said. She took the coin and deposited it into a box that levitated behind her.

  “Likewise,” Castelle said, trying to piece together a vague memory of the woman. She had dark brown hair which was tied back except for a couple strands that hung over her weathered face. It was the matching brown eyes that finally clicked the memory into place. “Mrs. Baron.”

  The woman chuckled. “Took you a moment.”

  Castelle ran his hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

  “It’s alright. Your aptitude was never in trinkets and charms. Your hand please.”

  Castelle gave his hand to Mrs. Baron who stamped it with a silver seal. When she lifted it the back of his hand had the number 443 on it. This was used to keep track of how many people entered the festival and made sure that they didn’t overfill. As soon as you left the festival, the numbers would disappear.

  As Castelle entered through the gates, the sound of the festival managed to pierce through the effects of the potion. It wasn’t an unpleasant sound, but the roar of hundreds of people took a few minutes to get used to.

  A path cut into the grass led from the gate entrance down to the beginning of the festival stalls. The rows and rows of stalls spread out across the field making a rectangular shape. The grass path split off to surround the entire area. Other paths connected that with the various beginnings of rows of stalls. Castelle continued down the path to the main central path.

  On each path in the festival proper, stalls sat on each side in even rows. There was a small space in between each one. Every stall was different. There were ones for food with people cooking over stoves or open flames. There were ones for selling products, everything from toys to trinkets and jewelry to clothing, tools, magical items and even animals. There were also some stalls that were recruiting for apprenticeships or local militaries and jobs like on fishing vessels. Each stall was designed with their purpose in mind, like the food ones having stools and chairs for customers or the military one having a uniformed person in the front. And this was only in the first few dozen stalls Castelle could see as he entered. The entire festival was like this, with more elaborate things in more dedicated spaces farther into the field.

  Castelle took his time walking through the festival. Not just to look at each stall to see what was worth his time, but because it was easier to go with the crowd and not try to push through everyone. The first stall that caught his attention was one that sold saddles specifically for flying animals. His current one had cracks in the leather and the buckles had been tied together with rope. Before each takeoff he triple checked the knots so he wouldn’t slide off.

  There was a short woman with bronze skin and bright hair selling the saddles. As Castelle approached she began showing off the most expensive ones she had. “Hello Sir,” she said jovially. “You look like someone who does his share of riding. If you want practicality and the jealousy of your peers, I suggest this one. It’s made with green dragon leather and adorned with rubies.”

  Castelle stayed long enough for the woman to finish her pitch before he politely excused himself. These particular saddles were well outside his price range, with the cheapest one being enough to pay for his assistant’s pay for half a year.

  For the next couple hours, he explored the festival, walking up and down the criss-crossing paths stopping by any stalls that interested him and walking away because they didn’t offer anything he wanted. One food stand sold his favorite treat, spiced lizard tails. The aroma of grilled meat with the sharp burn of fairy pepper guided him over like a retrieval spell. At the stall, the tails hung off skewers. Castelle bought four of them. As he turned around a voice came from behind him.

  “Excuse me. Do you know what they do to those reptiles to get their tails?” The voice came from a young man who looked to be about two or three years away from eighteen. The boy had blonde curly hair that cascaded well past his face. His clothes screamed stable boy with his faded yellow shirt and brown trousers which were connected to a pair of black suspenders that hung loosely on his shoulders.

  “Actually, I do.” Castelle said. “It’s done…”

  “In a cruel way,” the boy interrupted. He looked up at Castelle with a mixture of anger and hurt.

  “Uh, no. It’s done by…”

  “Did you know that the lizard’s from which those tails are taken are chained up and force fed to be kept alive and when their tails are regrown, they are ripped off painfully only for the process to repeat itself.” The boy took a long breath after his scripted explanation.

  Castelle took a minute to compose himself before responding to the boy. He heard this kind of thing a lot. It was the kind of misinformed propaganda one heard in his line of work.

  “Actually,” he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “These lizards are well taken care of and are fed a balanced diet. Yes, the food formula they are given encourages the tails to fall off sooner, but it’s no different than when they shed their skin.”

  The boy frowned. “You say that like you think you’re an expert.”

  Castelle sighed. “That’s because I am.”

  “Every non-wizard thinks they know everything.”

  Castelle had a few ways he could continue this conversation. He could pull out his badge which signified his expertise, but both hands carried two lizard tails and he didn’t want to shuffle around in his pockets. He could also try to continue to argue with the boy and encourage him to do more research, but that never worked on people like this. He took the third option.

  He walked past the boy. “Well good luck with your protest, I guess.”

  “You do know if you eat those, you are supporting the cruelty of those lizards.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Castelle waved one of his hands in a dismissive gesture with the lizard tails waving along. “Noted.”

  The conversation evaporated from his mind the instant he bit into the first tail. The fairy pepper spice bit his tongue and his mouth began to salivate. The tail was gamey and hard to chew, but that was one of the best parts. It took awhile to chew up the meat enough to swallow, but that allowed the spice to penetrate more of his taste buds and up into his nose.

  By the time late morning hit, Castelle had made his way around the entire part of the main festival and decided to head towards the part that showcased Lumrin Academy itself. Just like every year, it was situated in the very back of the field, for space and magical reasons. There were no stalls and no real organization in this area. Posts connected by ropes surrounded the entire area, not to keep people out, but to signify to patrons that they had entered a different part of the festival.

  This was the part where the Academy Clubs set up shop. Each club had an area that was specifically designed for their area of expertise. The Potions Club had different sized cauldron’s boiling. They had signs selling everything from love potions, which weren’t very potent, to medical type potions for curing certain diseases or mild headaches. Much like non-magical medicine, effects of these potions only lasted a short while. Other clubs included the Spell Weavers Club, which experimented with magical infused clothing; the Magical Melody club, which combined music with spell casting; and of course the Magic Zoology Club, which dealt with animals. The only thing was, the Magic Zoology Club wasn’t there.

  When Castelle attended Lumrin Academy the club always participated in Festival Day. They would set up a small enclosure and bring some of the animals for the non-magical to interact with in a safe space. It was one of the most popular parts and one of the reasons he had come to the festival. An area had been fenced off, but there were no animals and no people. Just a sign that said the club was unavailable.

  “They decided they wanted to be more hands on this year.” The voice made Catelle jump. Standing next to him was a woman wearing the Lumrin robes. Her long hair was a jumbled mess of rainbow colors. “At least that’s what they said.”

  “Uh, hello.” Catelle said.

  The woman smiled. “Hello Mr. Dovetail. I am Miss Jubilee, Music and Magic instructor as well as the activities director for the school clubs.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “The Club Alumni Board’s Wall of Fame. It’s hard not to recognize you with that mane of red hair.”

  Castelle ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve grown it out a bit since then. I don’t remember any Wall of Fame.”

  “We only started it last year. It was my idea.”

  “I see.” Castelle looked towards the empty paddock. “You said the Magic Zoology Club is doing a more hands-on approach. What exactly does that mean?”

  Miss Jubilee’s smile faded. “They’re out in the festival trying to...promote the well being of magical creatures.”

  “Is that who that was?” Castelle said remembering the boy.

  “You met one of them?”

  “I think so. He was spouting some rhetoric about the alleged mistreatment of lizards at one of the food stands.”

  Miss Jubilee looked down. “He’s not the only one. The whole club is like that.”

  Castelle crossed his arms. “Can’t you do anything about that. That isn’t what the club was about.” The words came out sharp and a little louder than he meant them too.

  “We try not to interfere with the way the club’s are run. Let them figure things out.”

  “Yes, but that way of thinking is also dangerous.”

  “That's actually why I approached you.” Miss Jubilee put a pleading look on her face. “I was hoping you would come by the school as a speaker and try to educate them. It’s been hard trying to justify their club activities to the headmaster. I don’t want to shut down the club because I want them to learn. As the club director I can assure you that you would get paid for time. I just want to help them before they do anything extreme like some of the other groups.”

  Castelle sighed. In his line of work he had to deal with these kinds of people on a regular basis. Most of the time it’s just protestors who stand outside a restaurant or a farm and shout rhetoric at them and any people that happen to pass through. At worst it usually only takes a polite but forceful word to get them to move on, but there are times when some of these groups take violent steps to achieving their goal. It’s easier when the group is made up of non-magical people who think they know how to deal with magical creatures. They just want to be special. But it’s the wizard extremists who can be more dangerous.

  One such group was PhIRE or the Phoenix Intervention Rehabilitation Exercise. Phoenixes are immortal-like creatures who when they grow old, they burn, die and are reborn. There are special places that attract the birds who are about to go through this process and protect them while they do. PhIRE was a group of wizards that believed this was an unnatural process and the facilities forcibly killed the phoenixes to harvest their ashes and then force them to be reborn so they could continue the practice. They were the first group Castelle had to deal with when he began working for the Magical Animal Control.

  “I wouldn’t mind it.” Castelle said. “I’ll talk to my superiors when I return and send you a reply.”

  Miss Jubilee grabbed his hand and smiled. “Thank you.” A student called from one of the booths. “Ah, well back to my duties. I look forward to hearing from you.” She let go and jogged off.

  At that Castelle decided to check out some of the other club stalls. One of them was next to a pond that he only just noticed. It wasn’t so much as a stall as it was a dozen or so chairs sitting on the edge of the pond with two or three people sitting in them and fishing. There was a sign that said Fishing Club and had a crude drawing of a fish right underneath it. It wasn’t as elaborate or pretty as the other signs for the clubs were. He chuckled at it.

  “You don’t like it?” Castelle turned to see a girl around the age of 16 or 17 staring at him with her arms crossed. She had unnaturally blue hair that had a slightly luminescent glow to it. It even glowed underneath her sunhat, which complimented her dark short sleeve shirt and short trousers. “My club might not be as fancy as the others, but it’s mine. And I made that sign too.”

  “I’m sorry,” Castelle said. He bowed his head. “I wasn’t laughing at the sign. I just thought it was, interesting, to see a fishing club at the school. When I came here, something like that would be part of the Magic Zoology Club.”

  The girl put her hands on her hips. “Well, it's not.” She looked at the empty corral. “And for good reason too.” After a few moments she looked back at Castelle. “Well, since they’re not here and as a way of forgiving you for insulting my sign, why not sit down and fish.”

  Castelle agreed and allowed the girl to guide him over to the pond and sit him in one of the chairs. To his left was an old man with a wooden fishing pole who seemed to be dozing off. On the opposite end was a woman sitting down with her son who was standing on the edge of the pond with his own fishing pole. The boy kept looking back at his mom to make sure she was watching. The girl walked over to a stand that held more poles and grabbed two of them. She also grabbed a small bucket on her way back.

  The girl put the bucket down on one of the empty chairs and handed a pole to Castelle. “You know how to use one of these right?”

  “Of course.” Castelle put the pole between his legs and reached into the bucket which was full of mudworms. Perfect bait for catching fish. He stabbed the hook through the worm and cast off the pole. The hook hit the water with a little splash.

  “Not bad.” The girl said. She sat down on the other side of the bucket and did the same thing. Her cast off had a precise grace to it as the hook sailed and landed just a bit farther than Castelle’s. After a moment of smugness she reached out her hand. “I’m Iris by the way. Iris Riverloch.”

  “Castelle Dovetail. I used to be a student at Lumrin.” He shook her hand.

  “I know. I’ve seen your picture.” Iris looked out at the pond.

  The next hour or so was quiet, or as quiet as it could get with the general murmur of the festival going on behind them. However, it was easily ignored with the simplicity of sitting there and hoping to catch a fish. The little boy, after having no luck, left with his mother. The old man continued to sit there. Every now and then he would move as his pole twitched, but after he checked and saw there was no catch, he went back to sitting still. A couple of times Castelle managed to get a snag, but the fish got away before he was able to pull the line even half way back. The water was clear enough that he could see the fish swimming around, none seemed interested.

  After another fish snagged and got away, Castelle tried to will the next mudworm he put on the fishing line to attract a fish. There wasn’t magic involved, since he didn’t know of any spell that could actually make a fish get caught. He cast off again and just as the worm hit the water, it was snagged and was gone. Sighing, he reeled the line in for the last time. He was going to thank Iris and say good-bye when he noticed her free hand moving on her lap.

  In that hour Iris had caught several fish. They were sitting in a large bucket next to her which was filled with ice on the bottom. Castelle chalked it up to a fisher’s intuition and skill, until he looked closer. He looked from her hand to the pond and saw a fish get gently pushed by a current of water. It was hard to notice at first, but the slight awkward movements in the fish made it easier.

  Castelle chuckled. “Isn’t that cheating?”

  Iris shrugged. “I don’t think so. Other fishermen use tricks of the trade. Scented bait. Enchanted hooks. I just use a little magic to guide them to my hook. Nothing more.”

  “I suppose that's…” Castelle was cut off by a chorus of screams coming from the festival. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  Iris waved a dismissive hand. “It’s probably just some stunt or advertising thing. It happens. I wouldn’t…” Iris was also cut off by more screaming. People began running out of the festival area. Iris dropped her pole and stood up.

  Miss Jubilee ran from one of the stalls and intercepted one of the runners. “What is going on?”

  The man breathed heavily and tried to speak but more screams followed by the sound of wood breaking echoed in the area. Castelle looked up and could see pieces of stalls as well as chairs and random things being flung into the air. A couple of people were also thrown into the air and landed out of sight.

  “What is going on?” Miss Jubilee asked again, trying to raise her voice above the growing cacophony.

  “S-stampede.” The man said. He shook and fell to his knees.

  “A stampede of what?”

  Before the man could answer, the stalls that bordered Lumrin Academy’s festival area exploded and out came running several pure white horses with silver spiral horns on their heads. They were majestic as they ran, and they were headed towards everyone. It was a unicorn stampede.