“Thomson is right!" (Patreon)

Rebecca declared. "If you hobble your security, something horrible is bound to happen! What if there is a, whaddaya call it, Vulpian Hit Squad?"

"Vulpitanian," Thomson corrected.

"A Vulpitanian Hit Squad," Rebecca continued, "disguised as disaffected students could be plotting a lethal trap for you this very instant! What if- what if they build an ingenious box trap baited with something you simply cannot resist? And if you try to neutralize the trap with a stick, it will trigger an even bigger box! And then a trap door! You’re completely undefended! The entire world could be plotting your downfall!”

I stared at Rebecca and wondered if there had been something in the soap she used. She was being far more irrational than usual. Before I could chide her for her hysterics, Thomson interjected.

“All of those things are very unlikely to happen," she explained, while stroking Mr. Calaveras' cranium. "I was merely wondering, what is the point of keeping her on as a bodyguard if you are going to prevent her from fulfilling her purpose. If one of your employees is acting out more than you can bear, you should just fire her. Perhaps up until now you had no one comparably lethal to do the job, but now that I am here there is no need to resort to Burnside if she annoys you.”

I switched my quizzical stare to Thomson. She was being completely lucid and sensible all of a sudden. Surely there was some mind-bending ingredient in all of those fruity soaps in the bathroom. Thank Fuma I had the foresight to use my own secret stash from my Elfintory! (Skunk fur requires special care that most soaps simply can’t provide.) I glanced at Burnside to make sure she was out of earshot, and observed her with a pot on her head, trying to have a conversation with a gloomy-looking student who clearly wished to be elsewhere.

“First of all," I said, shaking my head, "I have spent much of my life without a bodyguard and I am still alive. I mainly offered Burnside that position to distract her from trying to maul me to death with her confused ideas of love .. which she very nearly did anyway. Secondly, Burnside is a walking, talking, semi-intelligent weapon of mass destruction. Do you know how she survived the Plague of Battles? By being so bloodthirsty that the Plague had no effect on her beyond causing her to have what she called 'a real good time.' If I didn't retain her here in my service where I can keep an eye on her, where would she be? And what atrocities would she be committing? Thirdly, you two are not giving me nearly enough credit. You honestly think I'm dumb enough to handicap my personal bodyguard? I assure you, despite her current bumbling, my geas will not affect Burnside's ability to attack and defend. By way of demonstration: Thomson, try to punch me. Sock me in the jaw-”

Before the words were even out of my mouth, Thomson's fist was swinging towards my roguishly handsome face, almost as if she had been waiting all this time for a chance to suggilate someone.

Before Thomson's hoof could connect, she was suddenly tackled to the ground and there was a knife to her throat.

"Any last words, Floozy?" Burnside snarled.

"I do believe you've gotten better," Thomson murmured in frank admiration. "That was amazingly fast."

A group of students gathered around and began chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

“Okay, good job, Burnside!” I exclaimed quickly, before she decided to complete the kill. “Good demonstration, you’ve made my point. Go back to making friends.”

“Tee-hee! Acrobatics are fun,” Burnside giggled as she hopped off Thomson and tried to skip away, promptly tripping and falling into a box full of banana peels. The students dispersed, muttering in disappointment.

“You’re right, Mr. Calaveras," Thomson said as she got up and dusted herself off, "that was very enjoyable.”

"All right, I know Burnside’s an Unseelie, psychotic, deranged mass murderer," Rebecca admitted, "and saving the rest of the world from her is the reason I let her stay with me, too ... but permanently robbing her of her autonomy seems mean. If you stick with this, won’t you be almost one-tenth as bad as she is?”

“This isn’t going to be permanent," I protested. "It probably won’t even last for the whole time we’re at the Hoardblemish Academy. This is a temporary disciplinary action, plain and simple. I’ll change her back to normal as soon as she learns her lesson. Every time Burnside acts out in spite of my warnings, I will punish her in a creative and entertaining way. Think of it like this: If my life were a fictional story, or for example a play being acted out for the amusement of the common rabble - which is absurd, I know, but bear with me for the sake of the analogy - if my life were a bit of lowbrow entertainment, then Burnside's punishments would be inane and ridiculous things the audience would yell out for the actors to do. Interactive theatre, I think they call it.”

“Interactive?" Rebecca repeated, cocking her head. "OH! Can I pick one? Burnside used to do so many things back at the coven that would really get me steamed. She would chew with her mouth open, belch without saying excuse me ... and every time I found a nice mel she would lure him away and threaten to slit his throat so she could have venery with his leftovers. She might have actually done it a few times too; I'm not sure. Oh, and she would track mud in the cabin-”

“May I pick some punishments as well?" Thomson asked. "I’ve only known her briefly, both before and after my entombment, but this is something I definitely want to get in on. Plus, her accent is really annoying.”

“-She went through a phase that lasted for years," Rebecca continued, "where she would call me Hoppy-Hops, which is a SLUR among rabbits-”

“Uh-” I floundered, slightly stunned by how quickly Rebecca and Thomson changed their attitudes, but it was best not to question Fuma’s luck. “Sure, why not?”

“-And she does this horrible thing with her nails while everyone is trying to eat-” Rebecca continued.

I suddenly spun around and pointed dramatically at no one in particular. “Maybe I’ll even let YOU pick one of Burnside’s punishments! What do you say?”

“Uh- Punishment?" Headmaster Hoardblemish flustered as he stepped around the corner. "Detention is usually enough…”

“And she kept using my best witchy costumes as knife-cleaning rags, which is why I had to wear that stupid Robin Hood getup!” Rebecca continued, getting gradually louder.

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