Professor Gale Dekarios of Blackstaff Academy. Educator of the esteemed School of Illusion.

It sounded great, in theory. Fantastic, even. He was free of the orb, and while not exactly back in Mystra's good graces, he was no longer on her bad side, which certainly beat the alternative. He could now impart all of his knowledge onto younger, aspiring wizards, so that they wouldn't make his same mistakes. His brain was also tadpole-free, and there were no more menaces waiting at every turn.

But, of course, Gale wasn't allowed to catch a break, oh no. Of course his old-time rival just had to also be teaching there. In the same department. Of course his rival had started a few months earlier and had seniority. Of course.

"Hey!" Gale called, chasing his rival through the halls. "Listen, I know we've had our differences, but this is really immature. Really? You scribbled all over my lecture notes? In crayon?"

He stopped, waiting for his rival to face him, which didn't happen, naturally. How silly of him to hope to have an adult conversation with a fellow professor. He felt like a chіld all over again, crying over his ruined notebooks. "What are you, five?" he shouted after the retreating figure. "Stop being such a brat!"

Gale's rival, of course, had no response, and disappeared around a corner, leaving him alone. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he mumbled, "I don't need a response, I don't need to talk to you. This is fine. This is just fine. This is—"

He kicked the nearest object he could find, which happened to be a doorstop. The doorstop did not react, presumably by virtue of being a doorstop, and did not yield. Gale did. "Ow! Ow! Gods damn it!"