Gaze upon my wisdom and despair, mere mortals, for never shall you see its like again! Think you that you can match my wits? Impossible! You simply do not have the equipment! Wizards are born flush with power, furnished with minds of such gorgeous complexity that they can decipher the very language of reality; then we have to attend several centuries of higher education to make sure we don’t accidentally set our beards alight with our pure magnificence, and a correspondence course that can stretch on for upwards of a thousand years to ensure that we remain up to date with the very latest developments in spell-crafting. It is exhausting! Exhausting!

Yet despite the myriad strains upon my most excellent mind, I still devote some small portion of it to the problems of the weak, worthless human race, trapped as you are within a world of little magic and even littler smartness. Not, as some have posited, because my shoddy kobold lawyers had me sign a contract to continue answering these questions without any escape clause; no, no. I am here because I care for you all so deeply. The only thing more boundless than my wisdom is my kindness. You worms!

***

Princess Leafa writes….

General Ulesorin,

Years ago, you served my father in the Sparrow Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Blue Jay Empire. I regret that I am unable to present my father’s request to you in person, but my pinecone has fallen under attack and I’m afraid my mission to bring you to Birbfeederr has failed.

I have placed information vital to the survival of the rebellion into the memory systems of this SqrLL unit. My father will know how to retrieve it. You must see this SqrLL safely delivered to him on Birbfeederr. This is our most desperate hour.

Help me, Ulesorin. You’re my only hope.

***

My dearest Princess Leafa,

It is with some regret that I must inform you that I have been dragged so often into the wars of men that I can scant tell one great historic victory from the next. While it is quite plausible that I served your father well in the Sparrow Wars, I am afraid the event in question has entirely slipped my mind.

My second regret is in no small part your own fault, rather than mine. It is customary in my world for gifts to be sent along with entreaties for assistance, and the fact that you did not mention the rodent accompanying this letter until the end has resulted in a rather unfortunate spit-roasting of said mammal. I believe that this is known as ‘burying the lede,’ and it is a truly awful habit that I would have hoped your noble father might have broken you of.

In retrospect, it is possible that I could have stopped eating my tasty treat upon reaching that part of your note, but there is no experience so terrible in all of creation as beginning a snack and then not finishing the last bite. It leaves you with a sense that the cosmic order is out of alignment, and while I am sure that the survival of your rebellion was terribly important, so too was my feeling of contentment when I nibbled upon the crunchy end of its tail.

My final regret is that without the information that this presumably loquacious tree-rat carried, I have little to contribute to your conflict with the… uh… Bluebirds? Perhaps next time it would be wise to place the information that will save your revolutionaries from destruction in a medium that is less prone to consumption. In all honesty, it is amazing that the fuzzy treat made it as far as me. With the loss of my beloved animated furniture to unionisation and that tragic fire, I have employed a staff of imps to assist me in the maintenance of my tower, and I have to tell you, those little blighters will eat anything that isn’t nailed down. I have awoken several times to the sensation of one nibbling upon my toes, working off the assumption that I have expired in my sleep.

But I have not expired. Ulesorin lives, and if you wish to feast upon his delicious extremities then you will have to strike him down with all of your hatred, you cowardly little imps!

***

Having relationship issues? Need career advice? You name it, our ‘Agony Ant’ can help!* Email your problems to thefantasyhive@gmail.com with the subject ‘Ask the Wizard’, or leave a comment below.

*Disclaimer: All answers are provided for entertainment purposes only. It may not be in your best interests to follow advice provided by a 1794-year-old man who lives alone in a tower with nothing but the distant memories of past glories for company.