Leo had always assumed that the most dangerous form of espionage involved shadowy figures in dark alleys, coded messages, and the kind of international intrigue that belonged in spy novels.
What he had not anticipated was how thoroughly his life could be complicated by a two-inch-tall knight with delusions of grandeur and an apparent talent for organizing the academy's hidden population of magical creatures into an intelligence network.
The revelation came during breakfast in the Great Hall, when Sir Reginald emerged from Leo's pocket with the kind of self-important swagger that suggested he had been conducting important business while Leo was trying to eat his porridge in peace.
"I have news," Sir Reginald announced, settling on Leo's shoulder with the air of someone delivering a crucial intelligence briefing. "Significant news. The kind of news that could change everything."
Leo looked around nervously to make sure no one was close enough to overhear a conversation with a pixie. "What kind of news?" he whispered.
"I've been conducting reconnaissance," Sir Reginald said with obvious pride. "Gathering intelligence from the academy's... shall we say... less visible residents. And what I've discovered is most illuminating."
"Less visible residents?" Leo asked, though he had a sinking feeling he already knew what Sir Reginald was talking about.
"The magical creatures, of course," Sir Reginald explained. "Pixies, brownies, sprites, the occasional garden gnome who's achieved sentience. This place is absolutely crawling with small magical beings who go about their business completely unnoticed by the human students and faculty."
Leo stared at his tiny companion. "You've been talking to other magical creatures?"
"Talking to them?" Sir Reginald puffed out his chest with indignation. "My dear giant, I've been organizing them. Coordinating their efforts. Establishing a proper intelligence network with clear chains of command and standardized reporting procedures."
"You've organized the academy's magical creatures into a spy network?" Leo's voice rose slightly in pitch, causing several nearby students to glance in his direction.
"Keep your voice down," Sir Reginald hissed. "This is sensitive information. And yes, I've established what I like to call the 'Tiny Intelligence Division.' We have operatives throughout the academy, gathering information on everything from faculty meetings to student romantic entanglements."
Leo felt a headache building behind his eyes. "Why would you do that?"
"Because," Sir Reginald said with the kind of patience usually reserved for explaining obvious concepts to very slow children, "you clearly need all the help you can get. Your attempts at maintaining a low profile have been... shall we say... less than successful. I thought it might be useful to have advance warning of situations that could compromise your carefully constructed anonymity."
"My anonymity is already compromised," Leo pointed out. "I'm the academy's most famous bucket-thrower, accidental golem-defeater, and theoretical magical researcher. I don't think I can get any less anonymous."
"Precisely why we need intelligence," Sir Reginald said. "If you're going to be famous, at least you can be prepared for the consequences of your fame."
Before Leo could respond, a tiny voice piped up from somewhere near his left elbow. "Sir Reginald! Sir Reginald! I have a report!"
Leo looked down to see a brownie no larger than his thumb scrambling up the side of his breakfast tray. The creature was dressed in what appeared to be a miniature military uniform made from leaves and flower petals, and it carried a tiny scroll that was nearly as large as its entire body.
"Ah, Corporal Nutkin," Sir Reginald said with obvious satisfaction. "What have you discovered?"
The brownie saluted with military precision, nearly toppling over from the weight of its scroll. "Sir! Intelligence from the faculty lounge, sir! Professor Sparklebottom has been telling the other professors about the student with the 'revolutionary magical techniques' and the 'unprecedented natural talent for chromatic spell work,' sir!"
Leo groaned. "They're talking about me in the faculty lounge?"
"Oh yes," Corporal Nutkin said cheerfully. "Quite extensively, sir. Professor Grimwald mentioned something about 'interdisciplinary theoretical frameworks' and 'groundbreaking research potential.' Professor Aldwin was very interested in your 'innovative approaches to magical problem-solving.' And Professor Thornfield said something about recommending you for advanced placement in theoretical studies."
"Advanced placement?" Leo's voice cracked. "I don't want advanced placement. I want to be placed as far back as possible. Remedial placement. Basement-level placement."
"I'm afraid that's not going to happen, sir," Corporal Nutkin said sympathetically. "The consensus among the faculty seems to be that you're some kind of magical prodigy who's been hiding your abilities for mysterious reasons."
Sir Reginald nodded approvingly. "Excellent work, Corporal. What else have you learned?"
"Well, sir," the brownie continued, consulting its tiny scroll, "there's also been considerable discussion about your romantic situation. Apparently, Princess Seraphina has been asking questions about you."
Leo felt his blood turn to ice water. "What kind of questions?"
"The usual sort, sir. Your background, your interests, and whether you're currently involved with anyone. The kitchen sprites report that she's been quite... thorough in her inquiries."
"Kitchen sprites?" Leo asked weakly.
"Oh yes," Sir Reginald said with obvious pride. "They're some of our best intelligence assets. They overhear everything that happens in the dining areas, and they have excellent memories for gossip."
As if summoned by the mention of their name, a tiny sprite materialized on Leo's water glass. It was no bigger than a dragonfly, with gossamer wings and an expression of barely contained excitement.
"Ooh, ooh!" the sprite squeaked in a voice like wind chimes. "I have news too! The princess was talking to her ladies-in-waiting about the 'mysterious and heroic student who saved her life with such brave determination and noble self-sacrifice!'"
"Noble self-sacrifice?" Leo repeated. "I tackled an assassin into a pond. There was nothing noble about it. It was panic-driven pond-tackling."
"That's not how she described it," the sprite said cheerfully. "She said it was 'the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her' and that you were 'refreshingly modest about your heroic qualities.'"
Leo put his head in his hands. "This is a nightmare."
"It gets worse," the sprite continued with obvious delight. "She's planning to invite you to the upcoming Harvest Festival as her personal guest!"
"Personal guest?" Leo's voice rose to a pitch that only dogs should have been able to hear. "I can't be her personal guest! Personal guests get noticed! They get talked about! They get their names in the society pages!"
"Actually," said another tiny voice from somewhere near his right shoulder, "your name is already in the society pages."
Leo turned to see a garden pixie perched on his collar, holding what appeared to be a miniature newspaper. "The Academy Herald has been running a series of articles about 'The Mysterious Hero of the Eastern Gardens.' Quite flattering coverage, really."