From Art's POV
Today there was an assignment at school.
"Children, today we are writing again. Divide into groups of two and together write about the everyday life or special features of your family."
Naya and I, of course, sat together.
I started writing: "We have a family at home. Papa, Mama, and the both of us."
"Don't forget Aunt Mira," Naya added.
"Oh, right. There's also Aunt Mira. She is our papa's sister."
"Oh, I know," Naya said. "Our parents are mages."
"Uh-huh," I started writing.
"Write that our parents fight every day," Naya added.
I thought about it. "Well... yes."
And wrote: "They often fight and hit each other very hard, showing who is stronger."
We handed in our work.
The Aftermath
The teacher's face after reading.
"WHAT THE..."
He quickly scanned the class and muttered: "It's a good thing I decided to check everything first..."
Then quietly: "Poor children..."
But on Mount Slick, everyone has rights. The teacher walked up to us.
"Kiddos, what are your parents' names and where do you live?"
Naya answered immediately: "Father is Zenkhald, and Mama is Alastia. And we live over there... there."
"Alright. I will come visit you today."
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Naya and I looked at each other. And rejoiced.
Evening
"Mama, Papa," I began.
"Did something happen?" Alastia asked.
"Today the teacher said he would come visit us. In the evening."
"Did he say why?" she asked.
"No."
"Alright," she answered calmly. "Zenkhald, stop sleeping on the ceiling."
Zenkhald didn't answer. Not a sound was heard from the kitchen.
Alastia stood up and went there. Zenkhald was just lying on the ceiling. The meat was jumping into the pot of water on its own. A piece of rib dove in like it was a swimming pool.
"Zenkhald!"
Alastia jumped up, grabbed his clothes, and pulled him down. He didn't resist. Like a balloon.
There was some kind of crack on his right cheek. Alastia ran her finger over it.
"The mask is cracking," she said.
Zenkhald only blinked slowly.
Knock. Knock.
The teacher entered.
"Hello."
"Hello!" Naya and I said.
"And what are you doing?" he asked.
"Oh, we are building a city here," Naya said.
In our hands were small bricks, sand, and water.
"Wow..." the teacher said.
Alastia came out and said calmly: "Hello."
The teacher didn't ask anything else. Just handed her the sheet of paper.
"There was an interesting lesson today."
She read it. And invited him into the kitchen.
In the Kitchen
"I know that it's hard with children," the teacher began. "But if there is violence in your home, especially in front of the children, the laws of Mount Slick will help. You just have to say the word. Lately, I've noticed that Art and Naya are very tired, they come to class sleepy. And sometimes I see bruises. They are wonderful children..."
Alastia looked at him.
"I am Alastia Helvard. Does that tell you nothing?"
"If you think you can intimidate me with connections or status, then—"
"Wait... is that..." the teacher froze.
A piece of meat jumped out of the pot on its own, positioned itself under a knife that no one was holding, and flew upwards.
The teacher looked up. And flinched.
Lying on the ceiling was a guy of about fifteen.
"Who... who is that?"
"That is my husband," Alastia said calmly. "Zenkhald Helvard."
"But... but..." the teacher faltered. "Alright. Let's say I won't talk about... the age..."
"I am an excellent mother," Alastia said calmly. "And it is not for you to judge. You are a young teacher. And a little stupid. When you walk home, ask anyone who Alastia Helvard is."
She paused.
"And now I ask you to leave my home."
The teacher left. He was already planning to write a formal complaint. But he decided to go to the head teacher first.
"There were children today... they have problem parents... I went to see them... and she even used her name—"
"What was her name?" the head teacher asked sleepily.
"Alastia Helvard."
The head teacher instantly jumped up. And at that moment, a letter flew into the room. On its own.
"A letter from Alastia Helvard," he muttered.
Opened it. Read it.
"I thank the teacher for our children. For the care shown. I do not accuse him of anything. Moreover, I can praise him for worrying about other people's children."
The head teacher slowly lowered the letter. And looked at the young teacher. Very attentively.