Chapter 7 - Ms. Proctor's Past

17 Years Ago

It had been a disturbingly pleasant morning when Ms. Proctor’s worst fear came true. She had been happily plucking invarneed from her garden beds. Invarneed was a nasty weed that was covered in thorns, and sucked the life out of the soil and the plants within it. She was nearly finished when a bird made of deep blue and gold paper alighted on her shoulder. A summons from the school board.

Ms. Proctor took off her thick leather work gloves, and wiped her dirty hands on her apron before offering her hand to the bird. With a rustling hop it landed on her outstretched hand, and became an envelope. She cut open the top, pulled a sheet of paper out, and read it. Her hands began to tremble, and the paper wrinkled from her tight grip as she read.

Ms. Proctor,

It has recently come to our attention that you are having a relationship with Groundskeeper. While normally we consider such things outside our jurisdiction, in this case, as a tool of the academy, we believe it is within our rights to determine whether to allow this to continue or whether it would be prudent to find other methods of testing prospective students in the future.

Consider this an official summons to discuss the matter with the School Board and accept our judgment on the matter.

Signed,

Harriet Shyox

School Board Secretary

PS: Please present this letter for entrance into the School Board Meeting Room.

This was it. The culmination of all of her greatest fears. Her relationship for the last forty years with Groundskeeper had been a secret one. It wasn’t explicitly forbidden, but as a servitor spirit she didn’t truly have rights. Most of her kind lived for no more than a week, some living only hours or minutes as required. So having lived for over two hundred years, the servitor spirits that served Bearlisp Academy were something of an anomaly.

A servitor spirit was a purely magic creation. They were created by mages to complete a task quickly and efficiently, and then die out. They were usually given tasks like fetching or delivering things. Some of the most advanced servitor spirits were used as waitstaff.

What Anton Bearlisp had done was truly unique and only he would think to protect the vision of his perfect magic school by creating long-term self-sustaining servitor spirits. That is what Ms. Proctor was. Her entire purpose was to ensure that the students who attended the school were the best and brightest. It was a duty she took very seriously.

In fact, it wasn’t until relatively recently that she did anything else. About seventy years ago, she felt something change inside herself. She hadn’t been able to understand it at first, but it finally clicked when she realized that she felt bored. It was in the middle of the school year and she had nothing to do. She was responsible for the entrance exam and nothing else, so until that point she had simply stayed in her quarters at the end of the women’s staff dormitory and done nothing until it was time to test prospective students.

With nothing better to do, she decided to walk the grounds. Without realizing it, she had entered the endless garden. Something about the rows of trimmed bushes and flowering plants had put her slightly at ease. That was where she had met Groundskeeper. At first, they said nothing to one another, just a polite nod of acknowledgment. Then, she gradually got to know the other servitor spirit.

After thirty years of walking, working, and talking in the endless garden, Groundskeeper kissed her. She had seen some of the older students doing this with someone they considered special, but in all her time, she had never been kissed herself. A warmth filled her heart and face at the unexpected intimacy, and Ms. Proctor pushed Groundskeeper away.

Ms. Proctor had avoided the gardens for a week, and stayed in her room. Groundskeeper had come to apologize everyday, leaving her one of the flowers from the garden. When she was certain that Groundskeeper had left, she would bring the flower into her room and add it to the collection she had started in a spare glass.

Finally on the seventh day, Ms. Proctor was waiting for Groundskeeper in front of her door, and invited her in. They talked, and resolved to have a secret relationship. At first it seemed like they wanted to understand what they were feeling but eventually love blossomed between them.

Tears filled her eyes as she read the letter clutched in her hands again. She knew there was no use in delaying the inevitable. If she kept them waiting too long, they would simply summon her magically. The letter had been a formality, so that she could show up of her own volition.

As she walked down the hallway, having magically cleaned her outfit before departing, she passed many students who were watching her and whispering things she knew she wouldn’t care to hear.

“Ms. Proctor!” a voice yelled from behind her, she turned to see Adeline, one of the only students who treated her not as a servant but as one of the faculty, “Ms. Proctor, is everything alright, you look troubled.”

“Oh, Adeline, you are very sweet, but surely you’ve heard the gossip.”

“Bah,” Adeline said, making a nasty face, “I’d rather hear the truth from you. Are you and Groundskeeper really seeing each other? That’s so wonderful.”

A lump formed in Ms. Proctor’s throat, something that she hadn’t even known was actually possible until now. She tried to swallow it down, but found she couldn’t. So she pursed her lips and nodded.

“Are you going to get in trouble? Is that why you look so miserable?”

“I think so,” she managed, resting a trembling hand on the young woman’s shoulder, “I don’t want to alarm you, but they may decide to end my contract. Which means this may be the last time you see me. Please remember to take care of your studies even after I am gone. You have a brilliant mind and a bright future ahead of you. I knew it from the moment you took the entrance exam.”

Ms. Proctor gave Adeline a brave smile, and continued on her way to the School Board’s meeting room. She handed the rumpled paper to the board’s secretary, Harriet Shyox, a woman whose face always looked like a duck had just eaten something sour, before continuing on to the meeting room.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Her eyes met Groundskeeper’s as she made her way to the empty chair in the middle of the room. Groundskeeper gave her an uncharacteristically gentle smile. Ms. Proctor tried to return it, but it was betrayed by the tears that fell down her face.

The Deans sat and argued for hours, back and forth about what to do about this turn of events. Ms. Proctor sat silently next to Groundskeeper, her eyes never leaving the dizzying pattern of the rug in the center of the room.

“Clearly, this could lead to our academy being considered a breeding ground for dissidents and-,” the Dean of Discipline was interrupted by the sound of shouting from outside the door.

“What in the blazes is that racket,” the Dean of Curriculum demanded.

The loud shouts of protest were temporarily louder as the secretary scrambled through the door, “I’m sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but we may have a bit of a problem with the students.”

“What do you mean, Harriet,” the Dean of Students demanded.

“They seem to be up in arms about something, I honestly can’t tell what, sir,” Harriet’s face was still sour but also somehow panicking.

“Who’s leading them?”

“I’m not sure, sir.”

“Well, go find out, and drag them in here. I want answers,” the dean of the student pounded his fist against the table, and pointed to the door. Harriet blanched.

“Yes, s-sir,” she stammered as she left into the angry crowd.

“I mean, this is ridiculous,” the Dean of Discipline harrumphed, “First, a torrid affair between magical tools, and now a protest. What’s next, the hollows have a sit in for equality. This is madness.”

Ms. Proctor couldn’t help but gasp when Harriet dragged young Adeline Riddlemark into the meeting room by her ear.

“Ow ow ow ow ow.”

“Is this the person responsible for the interruption of our meeting, Ms. Shyox?” the Dean of Faculty asked.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“What do you have to say for yourself, young lady,” the Dean of Students asked.

“I’m not quite sure how to put this, so forgive my rudeness, but I don’t think you should be allowed to decide whether Ms. Proctor gets to be in a relationship,” Adeline said.

“Oh, and why not?” the Dean of Discipline demanded, “All things in this academy are under our purview, and Ms. Proctor is a tool of Bearlisp Academy.”

“While that may be true, it is well documented that the Servitor Spirits of Bearlisp Academy do not function quite the same as an ordinary Servitor Spirit. If you need proof, look no further than the case of Chef.”

“Chef?” the Dean of Discipline huffed, “I’m not familiar with this case.”

“Chef is the head chef of our cafeteria here at the academy. During the later years of our founder’s life, one of the Jans began to behave rather oddly, almost human. She decided that she didn’t want to clean, and that cooking was her true passion. Is that the case you are referring to, young lady?”

“It is. Anton Bearlisp himself intervened in the case before she was dismissed, and allowed her to change her life goals so that she could cook.”

“And what does that have to do with this supposed relationship between Ms. Proctor and Groundskeeper?” the Dean of Hollows asked, leaning forward in their seat.

“It was the wish of Anton Bearlisp that should the Servitor Spirits he created wish to do something different with their life, that they should be allowed to do so. He didn’t see them as tools any longer, but as people, deserving of respect and freedom. He considered it his academy’s duty to aid the people he had accidentally created as part of his legacy.”

“Where did you learn all this drivel?” the Dean of Faculty asked.

“In his own biography, of which we have no less than 30 copies in the school library,” Adeline said, “Based on the founder of this school’s own wishes, we the student body have gathered to petition the School Board to allow Ms. Proctor and Groundskeeper to continue their relationship. And should they attempt to dismiss them instead, we are prepared to take action.”

“Action?!” the Dean of Discipline spat, his eyes wide, “Just what are you planning you little dissident? Will you attack the heads of this Academy? Will you-”

“Hold on, Matthew,” the Dean of Hollows interrupted, “If this is the will of our founder, then we must respect his decision.”

“Like hell we do,” the Dean of Curriculum shouted, “We all know he was losing his mind at the end of his life. I mean he also claimed that he knew of the location of the Crown of Mab, something that definitely doesn’t exist. How do we know this isn’t just another one of his delusions?”

And with a nearly audible snap, Ms. Proctor’s patience ran out. She stood from her seat, gesturing for Groundskeeper to do the same.

“I will not sit here for a moment longer and listen to the good name of our creator, and this fine academy’s founder, being dragged through the mud. If the ladies and gentlemen of this board were half the mages he was, this would not even be up for debate.”

“M-ms. Proctor?” the Dean of Hollows stammered in shock, “What do you-”

“I am not finished speaking, you will hold your tongue. There is nothing inappropriate about the relationship I have with Groundskeeper. If the question is one of whether or not we are truly independent sapient beings, I advise this board to develop a test that can accurately determine such a thing with no margin of error and we will submit ourselves to it. Otherwise, you will pardon the metaphor when I tell you to stay in your lane. What I and any other servitor spirit in this academy do in our free time is wholly none of your business unless it adversely affects the running of this academy, at which point I will step in and handle it. Do you agree that this is a duty I am capable of doing?”

“Well, I imagine-” the Dean of students started.

“I put it to a vote immediately,” the Dean of Hollows announced with a wide grin, “All in favor of allowing Ms. Proctor to serve as representative of and police to the Servitor Spirits of this academy, say aye.”

“Aye,” everyone said, some hesitating more than others.

“It is unanimous,” the Dean of Students announced, banging his gavel, “Ms. Proctor and Groundskeeper will be allowed to stay, and Ms. Proctor will henceforth serve as representative of the Servitor Spirits including their discipline. Congratulations, Ms. Proctor.”

“Thank you, Dean,” she said, and grabbing Groundskeeper's hand, she walked out of the meeting room with a large grin on her face.

“Is she going to be alright,” Filomena interrupted Ms. Proctor’s memories, pointing to Max passed out on a couch nearby.

“Yes, I think she just couldn’t handle the strain of two high level hollows being summoned,” Ms. Proctor said, “She should wake momentarily. Quite hungry I would imagine, but otherwise unharmed.”

“Good, I’d hate to have failed her again so soon after being re-summoned.”

“It’s a pity you never met Maxine's mother Adeline, Filomena. She was something else,” Ms. Proctor said, drinking her tea, “Maxine looks a lot like her, you know. Now, why don’t you tell me about this first time you failed to protect your mistress.”