Yesterday, I missed the weekly meeting with the High Priestess. It is a time that the entire coven comes to worship. Although, with the plague running rampant through the land still, several coven members watch the ceremonies in their scrying mirrors. I had slept too long, my familiar allowing me to rest for once.
Alas, this resulted in a rough night’s sleep last night. I didst dream terrible and confusing prophesies and woke before the rooster. ‘Twas most sad. I didst get to the academy early, which was good as I had much work to do.
Alas, I quickly learned that someone had killed the scribe. Didst happen just last week as well. I had to wait as a new scribe was woken and the dead body was taken out. I had to send the elf who assists me down during the first class of the day to have the scribe make more copies, yet she thought she had to wait for the witches and wizards who barged in; insisting their copies were more important. I arrived an hour before the appointed time, they could have as well. Yet more poor elf could not stand up to them and I am still behind in my work. ‘Tis most sad. I shall discover, anon, which witches and wizards it was and challenge them to duels.
The Middle-Aged Single Fantasy Witch 