Kanna was in her office when Rowan stopped by, reading a novel while curled up on her chair like a cat. Her eyes brightened as she saw Rowan at the door, and she put down her book, beckoning him inside.

Despite the blizzard swirling outside, Kanna’s office was cozy, and Rowan felt almost drowsy in the heated room as he reclined in the chair Kanna had offered.

“Hello, Rowan,” Kanna greeted. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too,” Rowan replied, an uneasy feeling welling within him. This wasn’t right. Things were progressing too smoothly. He had ignored Kanna for almost a month, and now here he was acting like nothing had happened.

“So—” Kanna began.

“Sorry, master,” Rowan said suddenly, bowing his head in apology.

Kanna raised an eyebrow. “For?”

“For taking so long to return. I—” Rowan hesitated. “I should have come back sooner.”

Kanna smiled. “It’s alright, Rowan, though I’m thankful for the apology. But it’s not necessary. I left you alone because I knew what you needed was not comfort, but time. There is no balm for emotional trauma, only the passage of time that lets us come to terms with what we’re feeling.”

Rowan nodded.

“Anyways,” Kanna continued. “How are you doing? Have you made sense of the emotions you were feeling after the Felupin dungeon? I know I saw you in class, but you’re too good at hiding your emotions for me to make anything out from those limited interactions.”

“I’m good,” Rowan replied. And it was the truth. Although he had just said the words to be polite, having spoken them, he now realized that it was true. He really was feeling good. Though he still felt guilty about his role in the death of Lekaar, the scene no longer haunted his dreams at night the way they had in the week immediately following.

“That’s good to hear,” Kanna replied, leaning back and reaching for something within the drawers of her desk. “Can I offer you some tea?”

A minute later, both master and student sat at the desk, sipping from steaming mugs with contented expressions as they talked about Galdurfest and the academy. Now that the part he had been dreading was out of the way, Rowan slipped right back into his relationship with Kanna, who as always was very keen to hear about the various goings on in Faebrook.

“Really?” Kanna asked incredulously. “

“Really,” Rowan swore. “I caught them myself, although they don’t know that.”

Kanna giggled. “I can’t believe it. His house is one of the most staunch anti-human houses in Tirsiog. For him to be dating a human, and a girl from the Empire at that, is crazy. They make a cute couple though. I hope they stay together.”

“They seemed pretty into being together when I found them,” Rowan responded, sending Kanna into another fit of giggles.

As her giggles subsided, Kanna wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m glad to see that, despite the passage of the years, some things never change. You caught them in the same place I caught Egil and Jera Sallotail making out back when I was in school.”

“You went to school with Egil?” Rowan asked.

“Oh yes, although he was a few years ahead of me,” Kanna replied. “I was a second year at the time and he was a fourth year, newly returned from his adventuring semester. Apparently, his tales of daring and prowess deep within the dungeons of Kalthiminn impressed Jera enough to make a move.”

“Wow,” Rowan echoed. “I really can’t see Egil with a partner.”

“He is married, you know.”

“He is?!”

“Yes, though not to Jera. He married a woman he met during a mission in the southern reaches of Valendia. Brought her back here when he accepted the job at the academy,” Kanna responded. “She visits him occasionally, but they’re both discreet people, so most students aren’t aware. Lovely lady though, and fierce like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever meet her,” Rowan promised.

“She should be here for the feast tonight, so you might just have reason to keep that promise,” Kanna informed him. As Rowan absorbed this new information, Kanna glanced at the clock on the wall. “Wow, has it been that long already? I suppose I’d better let you go so that you can get prepared for the festivities tonight.”

Rowan nodded, making to rise, but Kanna stopped him, motioning for him to remain seated. Confused, Rowan did as he was told, looking curiously towards his master for a reason.

“Believe it or not, I actually did call you here today for a reason,” Kanna told him. Reaching below her desk, she pulled out a large package, wrapped in colourful fabric that she slid across the table towards him. “Here, your Galdurfest gift.”

“Master,” Rowan began. “You didn’t have to—”

Kanna raised a hand to stop him. “Actually, as your master, I did. So spare me your false humility and just open it already.”

Unsure of how to respond, Rowan did as he was told, his fingers finding the gaps in the fabric and unravelling it to reveal a dark leather satchel. Almost black in colour, with clasps that blended in with the fabric rather than shone, it was a piece of leatherworker’s art; the night made real in the form of a satchel.

Awed, Rowan ran his hands over the surface, marvelling at the smoothness of the leather and the seamlessness of the craft. Whatever he had been expecting the gift to be, it had not been this. He had thought Kanna would give him a book, or maybe something to do with magic or magical theory.

“Do you like it?” Kanna asked, a coy smile on her lips.

“I do,” Rowan responded.

“Good. That should make dungeon diving easier for you.”

Rowan tilted his head, his eyes flitting to the satchel and back to Kanna in confusion. “Dungeon diving? Why would I take this into dungeons?” What if it got damaged? The last question he left unsaid, but he felt it was obvious enough.

“Because it’s got several spatial enchantments inlaid in it,” Kanna told him. “You could fit everything you own in there, and still have room to spare.” She paused for a moment, seeming to remember Rowan’s lack of worldly belongings. “Sorry, bad choice of words. You could fit the contents of this room inside it, and still have space for an apple pie or three.”

If Rowan had been surprised at the generosity of Kanna’s gift before, then he was positively gobsmacked now, totally lost for words as he considered the bag in front of him. A bag of holding—that was what they had called them back on the streets. Not that they were always bags, but those were the most commonly seen version and the name had stuck. Anyone with one of those was someone important and, more importantly, rich.

Although they were not necessarily rare per se, the enchantments inlaid on them were supposedly both difficult to cast and costly in terms of materials. All of that was to say that it took a powerful mage a good chunk of funds and effort to make one. And since mages with the ability to cast such spells generally had better things to do with their time, the bags and containers with such enchantments were not commonly seen for sale.

Given just how useful they were, and the supply issue that arose from the limited number of potential craftsmen, bags of holding were something that most owners held onto for life. Even here at Faebrook, where nobles and rich scions were as plentiful as leaves on a tree, the number of bags among the student base was low. In his months of dungeon diving, Rowan had only seen two parties with such objects, both of them in the hands of their respective party leaders.

For Kanna to give one to him spoke volumes to Rowan, and it was with difficulty that he choked back the emotions welling in his throat. “Thank you, master,” he said sincerely.

Kanna waved him off. “No need to thank me. I’m just doing for you what my master did for me back when I was an apprentice. This will make your journeys into dungeons a far smoother experience, and also quite a bit safer since you can stock it with any items you might need to survive within.”

Rowan nodded. One of the main problems many parties had was bringing enough items to account for any contingencies the dungeon might throw at them. While they could theoretically bring enough equipment to deal with any conceivable threat, doing so would weigh them down, reducing their efficiency in combat—a potentially fatal choice.

The common solution that Rowan had encountered was to give such items to the porter: him. But even that had its limits as the porter’s main job was to carry the loot from the dungeon, and overloading his pack and kit with equipment was counterintuitive to that plan.

Every pickaxe, divining rod, or torch Rowan was given was that much less space that he had to carry the items they found within the dungeon. And since dungeon divers were a naturally greedy lot, such a problem was an inexcusable flaw in that plan.

A bag of holding changed that completely. With the enchantments placed upon it, no longer was storage space or carrying capacity an issue. Everything could simply be shoved into the bag and dealt with once they emerged successful from the dungeon. Better than any shield or armour, the bag of holding was truly an adventurer’s best defence against the terrors that lurked within the dungeons below.

“Thank you,” Rowan said again.

Kanna motioned towards the door, a smile on her face. “Yes, yes. Now get. I’ve got to prepare for the feast, and you being here is only a distraction.”

Sensing from her words that it was perhaps time to leave, Rowan left, taking care to grab his new bag which he slung over his shoulder, letting it come to rest against his hip. With one last quick bow to Kanna, he departed, shutting the door behind him as he left her office behind.

As he walked, Rowan admired how he looked with the satchel on him. The dark leather contrasted nicely with his slightly lighter clothes, and although he had no mirror by which to judge himself with, he felt that he cut a rather dashing figure, if he did say so himself. Thus preoccupied, he headed for the dormitory to make his own preparations for the feast.

The festival of Galdurfest was celebrated across Medanas—in the North because he was a northern god, and in the rest of the world because it was a very convenient time to have a feast. Since Faebrook was located in the north, the festivities were naturally much more intense than Rowan had experienced in Taureen, and the lengths to which the academy had gone to decorate amazed him at every turn.

God of magic and trickery, Galdur was a capricious god, and the festivities reflected that. Grand illusions hung in the air, ever-shifting just as the mana tempest in the great hall was. Gone were the crystal torches that normally lit Faebrook; in their place, floating orbs of frost and flame that danced with magical fluctuations provided a light that shifted as suddenly as the illusions all around them.

Although the decorations were interesting, it was the feast hall that truly made Rowan gasp. Earlier, he had referred to the meal he’d had for breakfast as a feast. He was wrong. This was a feast. The tables were laden with scrumptious foods: trays full of meats, platters stuffed with casseroles, vegetables, and all manner of sauces and jellies, and cups filled to the brim with wine.

The scent of it all was intoxicating and Rowan wasted no time finding a seat, eager to dig in to the plethora of foods before him. Before he could, however, a ringing sound rang out through the cafeteria. At the head table, Lira Kess tapped her spoon against the glass, smiling gaily as she got the attention of the room. Above her, an illusion of a dragon roared broadly, coiling overhead as if intending to nest within her hair before disappearing in a flash of sparkling lights. Completely unphased by the arcane brilliance overhead, the headmistress continued.

“The first semester has gone by, and I’m pleased to see so many smiling faces in attendance today. While we understand that it is no one’s wish to be at school and away from their families during the holidays, it is our hope that Faebrook can be considered a second home to all of you. With that said, it won’t do to let the delicious meal our cooks have whipped up go cold, so have at it!”

Her piece said, the headmistress sat down, another professor near her leaning over to whisper something in her ear that caused her to smile. Unable to tell what it was, Rowan turned his attention to more important matters, namely the incredible spread laid out in front of him.

The first to fall prey to his questing fingers was a dish of meats. Spearing several choice cuts with the two-pronged fork within, Rowan tossed them on his plate and then promptly ignored them, his gaze already searching for dishes to complement the meat.

A bowl of potatoes was his next victim, two large slices of roast potato steaming in garlic joining the meats on his plate.

Reaching for a pie dish from which he could smell the telltale aroma of apples and cinnamon rising from, Rowan was horrified to watch his fingers slip right through the dish, passing through as if it did not exist.

Convinced that he must have seen wrong, Rowan tried again, only for the same result to occur. With a devastated look, Rowan decided that Galdurfest was the worst holiday he had ever had the misfortune of taking part in, and Galdur was the worst god for being party to it. Any god that would tempt a man with apple pie only to deny it to him was no god, but a devil!

“Here.”

With that short word, a pie plate was slid down the table, coming to a stop in front of Rowan. Similar to the plate that had caused such trauma to his fragile psyche, this too had the aroma of crushed cinnamon and baked apples rising from it. The difference was that this one was real.

Instantly reversing his views on Galdur and his festival, Rowan lifted his fork and knife and dug in, forgoing a plate in favour of simply devouring the entire pie. From the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw Morgana look on in amusement, the plate having slid over from her vicinity, but he was too busy eating his prize to confirm.

Everywhere around the room, similar scenes played out, sounds of shock, betrayal, and laughter ringing out across the cafeteria as students discovered the false dishes. Older students seemed prepared for this, all watching with eyes of amusement as the first-years reacted to the illusory plates.

Truth be told, the rest of the feast was somewhat of a blur to Rowan. Between the fantastic food, the incredible atmosphere, and the variety of arcane sights, he remembered only a feeling of fullness and contentment that had persisted throughout the night. If he strained, he could also remember dancing, but he had no desire to recall any details, lest it be discovered that he had been among the dancers, rather than at his usual place in the stands.

Nevertheless, Galdurfest came to an end, returning the academy to its normal holiday state. Thus reinvigorated by the festivities, Rowan went about his efforts with a renewed sense of purpose, studying and training with Droon, practicing the shield spell within Darm’s book, and exploring the academy with an eye for any more hidden passages that might exist within its storied walls.

Although he did his best in everything he put his mind to, Rowan only managed to find one other passageway in the week following the feast: a short tunnel beneath the statue of a snarling torebear in the west wing of the academy that led out into the grounds.

As it turned out, even with his skills, hidden passages were termed hidden for a reason. They were nearly impossible to find, and even those places that he suspected of concealing one were reluctant to give up their secrets. After all, knowing about the existence of a hollow space behind a solid stone wall was one thing, but knowing how to access it was where the real battle lay. The first had been opened by luck, but any others would have to be done so through skill.

Still, searching for the passages was fun, and provided one of the few distractions he had as he waited for classes to start up again. He did have one other distraction, however.

True to his word, Dugan did send several more letters, though they were all fairly short and without substance. It seemed that he really was using them as an excuse to see the cute postmaster, not that Rowan minded. Dugan was as interesting a writer as he was a conversationalist, and his tales of family life back at his estate never failed to bring an incredulous smile to Rowan’s face.

And just like that, the holidays slowly came to a close.