Tristan woke to the sound of a loudly clanging bell. He shot up in bed and ran for the door, realizing just in the nick of time that he would need a bit more clothing before he stepped out into the hallway.

A few moments later he was running down the hallway his long, wavy blonde hair in a tangled mess and his dressing gown inside out. He burst through the door to the Majesteria’s quarters, a large brass candlestick in hand.

“What’s going on?” he shouted in a panic.

“Oh I’m so sorry Tristan!” Edwina said, “We didn’t meant to scare you. We just wanted to make sure we weren’t late for the trip!”

Tristan relaxed, loosening his grip on the candlestick as he realized his friends were not in immediate danger. He looked out the window at the bright morning sunshine and knew that he had slept far too long. He’d planned to wake at the break of dawn to give himself ample time

to prepare for the journey but it looked a lot more like late morning.

No wonder the Majesteria had rung the alarm bell they usually only used for emergencies. Possibly missing the ship to bring the Royal Cinderflower to the Queen’s Coronation definitely qualified as an emergency.

“It’s quite alright Edwina, thank you for waking me,” he said, taking a deep breath and setting down the brass candlestick.

“Were you going to use that to defend us?” Marigold said, her giggle barely contained behind her paw.

“I-I-well…you know, I was in blind panic, alright?” Tristan said, smoothing his long hair behind his ears. “Let me just get dressed and I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Don’t take too long, we’re already late!” Edwina said to his retreating back.

“And we might need you to defend us with a candlestick!” Marigold called as he closed the door.

‎

He returned to his quarters and rushed to his bedroom, the anxiety building as he realized just how late it was and he wasn’t even dressed. He ran past the trunks of his personal items he’d packed the night before, full of all his clothing, magical tools, and quite a few volumes from his large collection of pirate romance novels. He looked at his bookshelves and wondered briefly if he’d brought too many books. One row was almost entirely empty with only one tired volume clinging desperately to the side of the shelf. He wondered for a moment what the title was, he looked and saw it was The Ethics and Study of Ancient Ferns in the Southern Hinterlands. Ah, well, that can stay home then. He shook his head and returned to the task at hand, getting dressed for the day. His first day aboard a pirate ship, he realized with a shiver. This was going to be very interesting.

He quickly brushed out his dirty blonde hair and braided it behind his head just as he had every day for years, carefully tying the end with a small black leather cord. Then he put on a starched white shirt, which he buttoned carefully, and some well-fitted brown trousers with a matching waistcoat. He laced up his leather boots and went to pull a cloak from his closet, at which point he realized he’d already packed all his usual cloaks. There was one left hanging in the mostly bare wardrobe, it was a deep brown wool and too warm for this time of year. He considered the cloak, he would be overly warm but…he remembered one time at the local tavern a barkeep had told him that it made his shoulders look good.

He put it on and admired himself in the mirror, swishing the cloak back and forth. The barkeep had been right, the cloak did make his shoulders look good. But he felt that something was missing. What was it? He looked at his outfit in the mirror and felt that he simply wasn’t dashing enough to travel on a pirate ship. He needed something more.

A little glint on his armoire caught his eye. He went over to his small collection of jewelry which he rarely wore. In the metal dish on the armoire was a stud earring set with a shiny pearl. He picked up the earring and looked at it, twisting the shimmering white orb in the bright morning light. It was certainly beautiful.

But…

Well, last time he’d worn it had been a lot.

He’d bought the earring at a holiday market in Sweetriel a few years ago, he had loved how the shining pearl looked on him, he thought it made him look more intriguing. He hadn’t realized it when he’d bought it but…pearl earrings wasn’t exactly the style at Teakley, which tended towards the drab. He’d worn the earring the next day and everyone had commented on it. At least a dozen people had mentioned his earring at some point throughout the day. The comments weren’t rude, exactly, but there was definitely a few raised eyebrows. After that he’d put the pearl earring back on his armoire and only worn it on special occasions.

He looked at the little pearl in his hand and decided to try it. Even if he had to endure more commentary on his fashion choices that was better than being underdressed on a pirate ship, wasn’t it?

He put on the earring and looked at himself admiringly, oh yes, that was exactly what the outfit needed. So much better! All that he needed now was his gloves to cover his Starlight tattoos. He grabbed his favorite pair of fingerless gloves, the soft leather worn in from years of use, and slipped them over his hands, carefully tying the laces.

He looked around his small bedroom, wondering if there was anything he’d forgotten to bring. There probably was but he didn’t have time to figure it out, it was far too late now. Had he brought enough sweaters? How cold would it be on the ship’s deck? Everyone in pirate novels was always wearing delicate linen blouses, but that was fiction, he suspected that in reality the ship would probably be windy and cold. Would he need a hat? Would they have tea? Okay, now he knew he was getting out of hand. Of course they’d have tea! He threw a couple more sweaters into the top of his luggage for good measure and began lugging the over-stuffed chests into the hallway.




A little while later he arrived in the Majesteria’s quarters to a flurry of activity. The three mice were running around their living area, scurrying up and down the ropes from the tables of their workshop. The sitting room was usually occupied by a few large tables full of papers, plant clippings, candles, tiny potion bottles, quills, and piles of books of all sizes. It was exactly like any mage’s workshop except…smaller.

But at the moment, quite a lot of these items were being carried across the tables and ferried up ropes from the floor onto a growing heap of brown-paper wrapped parcels.

“What’s all this then?” Tristan said, sitting down at one of the human-sized chairs near the Majesteria’s tables.

Marigold, a slender grey Hi-Mouse in a pointy black witch’s hat and deep green dress with floral embroidery stopped in front of him, a stack of tiny books in her paws.

“We’re packing, Tristan!” she said.

“I thought we packed everything last night,” he said, shooting a look at the trunks waiting by the door.

Another, somewhat larger grey-brown mouse walked up to him. Edwina was her name, and she wore short trousers, a thick sweater and a small sword the size of a toothpick at her hip.

“That was just the first round,” Edwina said. “This is all the stuff we forgot yesterday.”

He saw Chica, the third mouse, scurrying across the floor with a bundle of scrolls under her arm. Chica was the most traditional of the mice when it came to fashion, she almost always wore a Majesterial robe, which often had a celestial theme of moons and stars, usually made of shimmering fabrics or glittering beadwork. She began climbing the rope while gripping the scrolls under her arm and soon arrived at the top of the table, depositing her goods onto the ever-growing pile.

“This is nearly half the things you own!” Tristan said, looking at the heap, “Aren’t we only going to be gone for a few weeks?”

“But what if we need this?” Marigold said, holding out a very small quill with a decorative pink plume.

“Why would you need that?” Tristan asked, examining the fancy quill. “Won’t one of your other quills work?”

“I don’t know why I might need it yet,” Marigold explained, “which is exactly why I need to bring it!”

“If we’re not sure, we pack it,” Chica added, patting the heap affectionately. A few small books became dislodged and skittered across the table. Tristan sighed.

“Besides,” Edwina said “you can just put anything that doesn’t fit in your luggage!”

Tristan opened his mouth to protest but quickly realized it wasn’t worth the breath. The Majesteria were formidable opponents when they set their minds to something, and the pile, although large, would probably fit in one of the trunks without too much trouble.

“Alright, I’ll load it up,” he said with a sigh.

“Oh, and Tristan?” Marigold said.

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget to bring some cheese for the trip,” she said.

“I would never forget the cheese,” he said, his tone deadly serious.

He had just closed the lid of the last trunk when there was a knock at the door. His heart skipped a beat and his hands began to tremble. It wasn’t that he was dreading the trip, in fact he was rather excited for it. It’s just that his excitement didn’t stop him being nervous. He had been worrying about all the things that could go wrong on this journey since that day in Blanchard’s office a month ago. What if some enemy of the Crown found out they were on the ship? What if the pirates were awful and dangerous? What if someone found out about the Royal Cinderflower? What if something terrible happened to the Majesteria? It didn’t bear thinking about.

The knock on the door was surely the Junior Apprentices ready with the wagon to take them to the Sweetriel docks, and that meant there was no going back now.

He took a deep breath and put on a confident smile as he opened the door. Standing in the hallway was a small group of people, he counted seven in total, their sizes, skin tones, and genders varied, but they were all younger than him. They wore the mid-length beige capes of a Junior Apprentice, their chests gleaming with their gold ink-bottle lapel pins. He smiled at them, remembering when he first became a Junior Apprentice, the burst of pride he’d felt to put that pin on for the first time.

“Good morning, Sir!” One of them said cheerfully, stepping forward with a bundle under one arm and a clipboard in her hand. “The wagon is ready to take you do the docks!”

“Yes, of course, come in,” he said, opening the door wider for the apprentices to file in. He noticed a few of their eyes darting around the Majesteria’s quarters with excitement, it was rare for a Junior Apprentice to get to see inside the Majesteria’s workshop.

“Where are the trunks, sir?” a nervous apprentice asked him, looking around the quarters like he was trying to memorize every detail to share with his friends at the tavern later.

“There’s a few in the hallway and more in the sitting room,” he said, directing the apprentices who scurried off to look for the trunks.

The lead apprentice leaned in conspiratorially:

“Which trunk is the um, you know, the special one?” she asked.

“I will be transporting that one myself,” Tristan said solemnly.

She looked aghast, “Of course, Sir, I would not have presumed such an honor for myself, I am terribly sorry for being so rude.”

“It’s fine, Ivy, you’re doing great,” he said with a comforting smile.

She looked relieved, and returned to examining her clipboard.

“Alright, I have some things for you,” she said, handing him one of the items from the bundle, a package wrapped in parchment paper and tied with string.

“This is from the Tailor, she said you might need a heavy cloak for the journey,” Ivy said. The next item was a small black lacquered box. “These are your new Academy brooches, please remember to wear them at all times. The Academy cannot protect you if you are not wearing your brooch.” She sounded like she had memorized that part carefully.

She handed him the box and continued, holding up a small stack of paperwork and a jangling coin pouch.

“These are your maps of the region, your itinerary, travel ticket, and, of course, your travel money.”

He took the items, feigning interest in the maps for her benefit. In reality, he had spent the last few weeks meticulously preparing for this trip. He’d memorized the route the ship would be taking to Fairefeux, and carefully looked up all of the surrounding islands and possible dangers. The only new information to him was about the ship itself, he noticed the travel ticket told him it was called The Snapdragon.

She handed him a small envelope

“This is from Lord Blanchard, Senior Liaison to the Grand Majesterium and Collected Mages,” she said, not pausing for breath as she said his full title. “He gave this to me before he left for the Coronation and asked that you make sure to read it before you leave, he said it was of critical importance.”

“Understood,” Tristan said, nodding his head solemnly.

There was a loud crashing behind him.

Tristan and Ivy ran into the sitting room where the Junior Apprentices had dropped one of the trunks, apparently on someone’s foot. One of the apprentices was crying and another was comforting them, while a third looked absolutely mortified. The three mice were standing on one of the tables looking at the activity with the interested sniffs of the staunch gossip fanatics he knew them to be.

“I’m terribly sorry, Sir,” one of the Junior Apprentices said, “It’s just that these trunks were quite a bit heavier than we were expecting.”

Tristan shot a look at the Majesteria who appeared completely indifferent to this comment.

One of the apprentices looked nervous and nudged the one who’d spoken, whispering to them. Tristan thought he heard Blanchard’s name at one point.

The apprentice looked back at Tristan nervously, then he bowed deeply and said,

“My apologies Lord Mulberry, Majesteria Handler to the Teakley Majesteria of the Grand Majesterium.”

Tristan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Blanchard was a plague and Tristan was dearly looking forward to some time away from his nonsense.

“Please, don’t call me that,” he said sincerely. “You can call me Tristan, and I’m definitely not a Lord.”

“Sorry Sir,” the apprentice said, looking more upset than ever.

“Don’t worry Gerald, you’re doing great,” Tristan said, patting the young man on the shoulder and wondering if he had been this nervous when he’d been a Junior Apprentice.

He thought about it and realized he’d been worse.

“Tristan,” Ivy said, “Do you think, um, you could possibly help us bring down the trunks? Matilda always says we’re to ask you if we need help carrying heavy things.”

Although he had a relatively narrow frame and spent most of his time reading books and carrying cheese, Tristan was not as frail as you might expect. A critical part of his job was as a conduit for Starlight, which was a massive strain on his muscles. To make this easier he worked hard to have strong muscles throughout his body, usually by helping out his friends in the gardens or chopping wood for the winters. After a while he became known around Teakley as a good person to ask if you needed to move something heavy.

“Of course,” Tristan said, taking off his cloak and rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll bring them down while you get Ash to the Healer.”

“Thank you Tristan!” Ivy said, grinning with relief.

He nodded and got to work.




“Oh look, it’s Lord Mulberry!” Marigold said when he returned from loading the cart.

Edwina and Chica both started giggling. Tristan rolled his eyes.

“Alright, alright,” he said. “Come on, let’s get our brooches on, we’re already late enough as it is.”

“Yes, your Lordship,” Edwina said with a dramatic bow.

“Did you read Blanchard’s letter? What did he want?” Marigold asked as Tristan set the black lacquered case on the table.

Tristan sighed, “His usual nonsense, just trying to throw his weight around. Mostly the letter was just him telling me that I had to make sure I didn’t tell anyone about you or the Royal Cinderflower, and that I was to remind you not to do magic.”

“We’re not supposed to do magic?” Edwina said, surprised.

“Apparently, he says it’s too risky. He said you never know where a dangerous mage or nefarious criminal might be lurking who would feel the presence of your powerful magic.”

“Hmph,” Marigold said with a frown. “I thought the whole point of taking this pirate ship was to avoid the mysterious, dangerous mages.”

Tristan shrugged, “Me too. But you know how Blanchard is.”

“Awful!” Chica declared. “Now let’s get our brooches, I wanna be shiny!”

“You’re already blinding me,” Edwina said, looking at Chica’s shimmering robes. “But I’m excited to see the brooches too!”

Tristan picked up the the black lacquered case and opened it carefully, feeling the weight of its importance. The inside was lined with red velvet, adding to the prestige of the jewelry. Inside was four brooches, one for him and three miniature ones barely bigger than his pinky nail, custom made for the Majesteria.

The brooches were shining gold with dark brass accents. They were beautifully crafted in the shape of a shield with a teacup on it, the symbol for Teakley Academy. He picked up his brooch and flipped it over, on the back etched in delicate script was his name, Tristan Mulberry. He carefully picked up the mice’s brooches and was briefly awed at the craftsmanship of them. They were perfect miniature replicas of his own brooch, down to the tiniest detail, including the mice’s names etched into the back.

He set the tiny brooches back down and the Majesteria scurried over to grab them and hastily affix them to their clothing, the gold glinting brightly in the morning sun.

“I’m SHINY!” Chica stated, twirling around in her sparkly dress.

Tristan smiled and pinned his own brooch onto his cloak and felt that surge of pride just like when he’d worn his first Teakley brooch as a Junior Apprentice.

“These are very nice,” Edwina said appreciatively.

“Indeed, excellent craftsmanship,” Marigold agreed with a knowing nod.

“They’re so shiny!” Chica added.

‎

Tristan looked around the half-empty room with a sinking pit in his stomach. All that was left now was to leave.

“I guess it’s time for you three to get in the Boarding Trunk,” he said, looking at the breadbox-sized box sitting on the table. It was the Majesteria’s travelling abode, although they rarely spent much time in it once they arrived at their destination. The Boarding Trunk was mostly just a convenient way for them to travel without being observed by inquisitive humans. The box had mesh screens on one side to look out of and lots of small, soft pillows inside to make the journey more comfortable.

“I wish we could just walk there,” Marigold said with a sigh.

“Yes but we’re supposed to be going incognito,” Edwina said.

“Like spies,” Chica said.

Tristan laughed, “Alright, let’s just get to the docks.”

The mice all scurried into the Boarding Trunk, Tristan shut the lid, put the trunk under his arm, and headed out to the wagon.