Mr. Capricorn

Green flames flickered from the tip of a white wand, and the wooden shaft was slowly lowered on a cluster of fixed logs, setting the stack ablaze. Heat and warmth instantly filled the small clearing amidst the blackness of the Bulgarian night.

“S-so…” chattered a young voice, an accent emanating from the mutter. The speaker was a freezing youth who sat by the fire. His brown cheeks were growing ruddier by the minute as frost poured from above. He wore windswept robes, black and emerald in hue, and if not for the howling wind would look splendid on him. Books lay beside him, and a mattress was already prepared. “Y-you have…b-been s-studying A-Arithmancy f-for l-long?”

A hoarse, but surprisingly energetic, voice called from the trees, unaffected by the blistering cold. “Oh, yes, most certainly! I mean, x is y and z is equal to the number of doxies currently visiting Jupiter. Did I tell you I was from England, to be named variable B, wherein a certain quantity of matrices might be found?”

The young man stared nervously at the fire. “B-but…y-you haven’t…a-answered, señor, why they c-call you…the G-Goatman…”

Just then, a face popped out from the trees. It was a most bizarre sight, a man whose face seemed to be half goat, with a pair of short horns jutting from his forehead. “What do you say they call me, Alfonsie?”

“G-gah!” The young man jumped in surprise. “L-literally! Q-que va!”

“Ah, you wished to speak of literal coefficients and their relation to the Swarmara No Tecium Vex? The local students, to be named variable D, often ask-”

But Alfonsie did not seem to be listening. “Wh-what h-happened to you?!”

“Certainly you do not wish to delve into radical quantities-”

“N-no! I was s-sent here t-to interview you, not j-join you in y-your h-half m-meaningless existence, s-señor G-Goatman…”

“Ah, so we are going to talk about Invenioforca and nonreal roots-”

“ARRRGGGHHH! INCENDIO!”

And so Alfonsie stood up suddenly, wand accidentally aimed at the Goatman Philosopher. The madman yelped. “That hurt, boy!” A queer expression came into the afflicted’s face as he began flinging frozen numbers at Alfonsie. “Here, Alfonsie, factoring by elimination! Wingardium Leviosa!”

But having grabbed his books and mat, Alfonsie ran. “It’s Alfonso, sir! Th-thank you for tea-”

Alfonso didn’t manage to finish his sentence, as frozen models of inequalities started flooding from the wood, like the snow that continued to pour from the sky…

“B-blasted Numerology…” muttered the wizard as he scampered down the mountain path. “Arithmancy, count me out…”