"Oh", he muttered to himself, "That just won't do. No, no, no- that will not do at all" he grumbled, panic slowly building, his breathing suddenly becoming labored. Quickly he scurried over to his chambers and slumped onto the large working desk, strewn with all manner of... well, all manner of everything, really.
Frantically, Lian glanced around the room as if the solution to his dilemma were posted on the wall or hanging across the room like a parade banner or streamer. Nervously, he flickered his eyes at Candace, "What are we going to do? I was supposed to study the Legend of the Five Blind Kings this week... a-a-and then learn more about Sir Bellio and what it was he actually did to the Orc King's daughter!! The war wasn't started for no reason!".
He shuffled papers around the wide oak table before him- maybe the answer was underneath one of them? First, the sheets of parchment were rifled through, then his search escalated to the dusty tomes and steel-bound volumes on his right, and at last, to the stack of scroll cases balancing perilously at the leftmost edge of his desk. They remained in place as long as they could, but even they were no match for his agitated rummaging. Like a log trap in some deep, dank crypt, they all rolled off and tumbled to the ground, scattering about like the toys from a child's overturned play-box.
"AHA!" he exclaimed, startling the already high-strung weasel so that she slid under his coat and down into the hidden pocket where she rested. "Perhaps... yes, perhaps... perhaps I can accept Lord Braynard's offer and in return.... in return..." he paused, tapping his chin with a thin, bony finger. "...in return, he might tell me of his travels into the Valley of the Blue Man!" rejoiced the young mage, pleased at himself for finding the bright light in this otherwise gloomy change of plans.
Suddenly and without prompting, a chittering sound emitted from the sleeve of his coat as the head of a furry brown weasel emerged, its glossy, curious black eyes focused squarely on Lian; he knew she was right, and in that instant, he let out a long, heavy, defeated sigh.
"Right then... I suppose... you're right- that really wasn't optional. We know Lord Braynard well enough... he might have made it sound like the decision was up to me- but we both know that it's truly not. Frankly, I'm in no position to bargain. Especially after what happened with those pots in the second pantry..." he bitterly grumbled to himself. Sliding off his stool and extinguishing the lantern with a hearty puff of air, he ambled over to the door and paused for a moment, just long enough to glance over his shoulder. Perhaps he will uncover the answer to every question... another day.
With that... and another sigh... he made his way through the door of his room, closing and locking it behind him, before heading straight for the dining hall. It would not be long before he was rubbing some magical sphere and ending up in some gods-know-where backwater town, shackled to some dreary mission to find someone's grandmother's old bonnet.
...one more sigh.