The library door clicks open softly, just as before. Smewgy comes in with that same impassive frog-like face, and the room seems to draw itself tight around him.
He does not look at the shelves first. He looks at the ledger, then at Lewis, then at the neat line of copied work, as if he is measuring a specimen.
Smewgy
Excellent. The hand is improving. I thought it might. That is why the prep room was offered.
Smewgy
Not as a kindness, gentlemen. As supervision. If a boy is to wrestle with theology, he must do it where his mind can be watched.
The implication lands cold and plain. The private room, the books, the silence, the courtesy, all of it was never refuge. It was an instrument.
C. S. Lewis
So the question is not whether he helps. It is what he means to make of the helping.
Smewgy
You have an uncommon turn for difficult reading, Lewis. I mean to see what you become when pressed properly.
Parsley keeps still. Friedrich’s pen pauses. In the warm lamp light, Smewgy’s politeness feels sharper than a rebuke.
✓ Quest Accepted
Understand what Smewgy intends to make of Lewis
“Does he intend to use my theological studies to mould me into a school prefect?”
YES, AND MORE (Likely, rolled 5)
Smewgy
You are to be the model of the new order, Lewis. A prefect who understands that the mind is the most effective tool for maintaining the discipline of the house.
C. S. Lewis
He does not just want a student. He wants a weapon.
Smewgy leans closer, his spectacles catching the lamp light and obscuring his eyes, leaving only the wide, unblinking mouth visible as he waits for the weight of his ambition to settle.