2. Ink Spot

Viktor was not a fan favorite amongst the academy's researchers. To be fair, he did make their jobs a lot harder than it had to be sometimes. But, he was only there to make sure that the young starry eyed adventurers that they employed were not taken advantage of the way that the academy so often wanted to.

He knew that not every body saw it that way though. That's why he was surfing through his four hundredth and second complaint about all of the sanctions he had put on the sponsors of research missions this year. In response, he was telling everyone the same thing.

He was not going to be bullied into lifting rules that kept people from dying.

No matter how much money was thrown his way or how many angry letters he got with death threats from overzealous academics and scientists. He rolled his eyes as he wrote the same thing on another letter.

There were so many that he would have to waid through today, but he had no idea how much of them he would be able to get to because he was going to be part of the graduating ceremony today.

Viktor sighed, a migraine pounding his head. Sometimes, he questioned his life choices.

Another letter.

This one reading:

Dear Vicktor,

*I am not sure who you managed to piss off this time, but I just got a threatening message in my inbox saying that if I don't get you to lift the ban on breeding dragons, they're going to kill my entire family. As you know, I've already told you to stop making rules that are so inflammatory to some people. I understand why you made this decision as dragon breeding has gotten humanity in trouble before, but perhaps you could write a letter to this man where you very politely explain your position.

[Adress enclosed.]

Signed,

The Dean*

Vicktor rolled his eyes. He knew that there was no way that reasoning with people like this would help anything, putting restrictions on what an academic could study and go see was something that made a certain subset of the community very pissy.

"Ugh." He muttered to himself. He plucked out a piece of parchment paper and rolled his eyes, trying his best to formulate the most dimplomatic type of response possible. Considering the mood that he was in, he would consider that quite the feat of his writing career. Because if he was being completely honest, he didn't really give a damn. He hated having to placate people because they were pissed that he had morals.

He scribbled out a response to this person and shoved it in an envelope. He would seal it later. He so desperately wanted to get out of this office. It was stuffy and smelled of petrichor and he was losing his patience.

He needed a cup of coffee before the graduation ceremony today. He knew that he was expected to be on his best behavior there as well.

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