Dear Mom,
I can hardly believe it’s over, but two years of hard work have finally paid off. As of high noon, I am officially a novice of the Order of the Crimson Tunic (with that minor in Liberal Studies). I only wish you could have made it to Graduation, but that’s the Parole Board for you.

It was a wonderful ceremony. They held it in one of the Castle’s rose gardens, the one behind the gallows. (Remember that hands-on demonstration at Parents’ Day? That one.) Afterwards, we had a great surprise. Lady Glunderpus, from the Placement Office, stood up and told us that Sir Robin the Bloody had reviewed our resumes and was hiring all eight survivors from the graduating class!

I can’t tell you how relieved I was. I’ve been worried sick about this soft job market ever since I was passed over for that summer internship. In the long run, I think it worked out for best for me. I know Tommy Wilkin’s widow feels that way.

Lady Glunderpus, though, she never lost faith. “Don’t fret, boys,” she’d say. “All the jobs are entry level positions!” I always thought it was a joke, ’cause she had this weird laugh whenever she said it.

Oh, well. No time to worry about stuff like that now that I’m “on the job.” I’ll write whenever I can.

Your Son,
Harold the Dim
Novice of the Crimson Tunic

P.S. I need a better atlas. Sir Robin mentioned where we were headed, but I can’t find the Caverns of Attrition anywhere in mine.