A Zoologist’s Guide to Surviving Magical Creatures

I swallowed hard, my brain still struggling to reconcile this wolf-turned-mogul.

"Uh, yes, that's me. Carl Suis, MECCP zoologist, occasional problem solver, and apparently, troll representative."

His lips quirked into the barest hint of a smile. "Well, you don't look like a troll. But then again, appearances rarely tell the whole story, do they?"

I resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment about glass houses and wolfish disguises. "I was told this involves conflict mediation?"

Fenrir motioned for me to follow him, his polished loafers clicking against the smooth marble floor of the Trial Center. The air here felt different—charged with magic and tension, like it was alive and watching.

As we walked, I noticed the subtle details of the place: runic engravings that pulsed softly on the walls, and floating orbs of light that adjusted themselves based on Fenrir's movements.

"Conflict mediation is an art," Fenrir began, his tone as smooth as the Bifröst Bridge itself. "It requires patience, strategy, and the ability to navigate delicate egos."

I nodded along, trying to look like I hadn't just Googled "conflict mediation tips" before arriving.

"We'll start with a practical exercise," he announced, pushing open a massive set of double doors that led into what looked like an observation chamber. Through the glass, I could see a simulated arctic landscape—a breathtaking stretch of frozen coastline complete with glittering icebergs and frosty caves.

"Your scenario," Fenrir said, handing me a sleek tablet, "is a territorial dispute between a yeti clan and a pod of narwhals. The yetis need this space for their annual ice fortress construction, while the narwhals claim it as their ancestral hunting grounds. Your task is to broker peace."

"Right," I said, glancing at the screen. The briefing included detailed profiles of the yeti leader, a towering figure named Glacial Gus, and the narwhal matriarch, Dame Tuskalina. "No problem. Just a casual negotiation between mythical creatures. What could possibly go wrong?"

Fenrir's sharp grin told me he was enjoying this far too much. "Before you dive in, we'll do a little role-playing."

I blinked. "Role-playing?"

He gestured to a nearby platform that looked suspiciously like a game show stage. "Prepare yourself."

The next ten minutes were a blur of awkward improvisation, as Fenrir alternated between impersonating a hot-headed yeti and a melodramatic narwhal. To his credit, he committed fully, even mimicking the narwhals' squeaky vocalizations with unsettling accuracy.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" I finally exclaimed, waving the tablet like a white flag. "I need to validate their concerns, propose a win-win solution, and avoid triggering a snowball fight."

"Precisely," Fenrir said, his expression unreadable. "Now, let's see how you handle the real thing."

The simulated environment was so lifelike I could feel the chill in the air as I stepped into the arctic zone.

Glacial Gus was already there, his frosted beard sparkling like diamonds as he loomed over a crude blueprint of an elaborate ice fortress.

A group of younger yetis stood behind him, their expressions ranging from bored to outright combative.

On the other side of the icy expanse, Dame Tuskalina floated regally in the shallows, her long tusk glinting like a spear of moonlight. A pod of narwhals surrounded her, chattering nervously and occasionally jabbing the ice with their tusks.

I took a deep breath and approached the center point, a neutral patch of ice Fenrir had designated for the meeting.

"Good morning, everyone," I said, trying to project confidence despite the sweat freezing on the back of my neck. "Thank you for coming to discuss this issue peacefully."

Glacial Gus snorted, sending a plume of frosty air into the sky. "Peacefully? Tell that to them! They've been poking our ice with those oversized toothpicks for hours."

Dame Tuskalina flicked her tail in indignation. "Toothpicks? Our tusks are sacred instruments, not some—"

"Right, right," I interrupted, holding up my hands. "Let's focus on the issue at hand. Gus, you need this area for your fortress. Dame Tuskalina, your pod needs it for hunting. Surely there's a way to share the space?"

The negotiation was going about as smoothly as a penguin trying to ice skate uphill. Every suggestion I made seemed to offend one party or the other. Fenrir, observing from a hidden balcony, looked far too entertained.

Then it happened.

A narwhal calf, oblivious to the tension, tossed a bright orange rubber toy into the air. It bounced across the ice with a loud, comical squeak, landing right in front of Fenrir.

The mighty wolf froze. His amber eyes widened in sheer terror, and he took a full step back, his polished facade crumbling.

"It's the squeak," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "So… unnatural."

The yetis and narwhals stopped bickering, their attention now on the quivering god-like CEO. Sensing an opportunity, I quickly stepped in.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I said, gesturing dramatically to the frozen landscape.

"What if we turned this area into a shared space? The yetis can construct their fortress above ground, while the narwhals use the underwater caves below. And to commemorate this historic agreement, we'll commission a Yeti-Narwhal Friendship Ice Sculpture!"

There was a beat of silence, followed by murmurs of agreement. Glacial Gus stroked his icy beard thoughtfully. "An ice sculpture, you say? Could it feature a yeti riding a narwhal into battle?"

Dame Tuskalina nodded regally. "As long as the narwhal is depicted with dignity."

"Deal!" I said, relief washing over me like a thawing glacier.

********

Back in the Trial Center, Fenrir was waiting for me, his composure restored. "Impressive," he admitted, though his tone was grudging. "You managed to broker peace and save face—for everyone involved."

"Even you," I teased, raising an eyebrow. "Should I add 'rubber toy negotiator' to my resume?"

He narrowed his eyes but couldn't hide the flicker of amusement. "Careful, Carl. You're starting to grow on me."

As I left the Trial Center, clutching my newly earned certificate of mediation, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Now, in my hands, I held the license to manage and mediate conflicts anywhere in Mythica. Before I left, Fenrir tossed me a token.

"A gift," he said mysteriously. "It will come in handy one day."

I held the token in my hand. The symbols and runes on it gave off a strangely familiar feeling.