Hell Political Academy, Carona Manor.
On a whim, they had spent another sleepless night entwined in passion.
Fischer lay on his back atop the soft, warm, luxurious bed, gazing serenely at the ceiling, feeling like a candle burned down to its last wick.
His mind was still as water, saintly as a sage, Buddha-like in his calm.
He would swear that even if the Drow dark-skinned beauty he had loved most during his posting at the Gerson Consulate were standing on top of him right now, dancing an ecstatic disco, not the slightest ripple would stir in his heart.
He had now risen above such lowly pleasures—a pioneer determined to devote his entire life to Zelandia's great magical research enterprise!
The only reason he still lived this sort of life was to fulfill his duty as a husband to cherish his wife, and as a father to lead by word and example.
Smooch.
The countess, clad in spider-silk lingerie suspenders, bent down to give Fischer a deep, affectionate kiss. Then she rose at the bedside, lit an Evermeet Island elven-made 1982 cigar, took a deep draw, and smilingly blew the drifting smoke toward her husband's face.
"Darling, I'm off to teach at school. Get some proper rest—you still have to get up for work later."
Scenes like this had practically become daily routine for the married couple.
But today seemed somewhat different.
Knock, knock, knock.
The bedroom door was pushed open by a sexily dressed maid. She bowed respectfully to the two Masters and said:
"Madam, Mr. Carol from the Magic Research Institute has delivered two letters. One of them is an appointment letter for Lord Fischer."
"An appointment letter?! Let me see!"
The Red Robe Mage instantly sat bolt upright from his deathbed, his eyes brimming with unprecedented excitement.