My accountant has accepted the resignation of the office assistant. The woman was serving the required apprenticeship to obtain her accountancy qualifications and, times being what they are, was not paying for the privilege, but being paid something above the minimum wage.
She was madly, wildly in love, also, with a man who had his doubts. Undeterred, the apprentice applied to the sorcerer for a love potion. (There is a great deal of local commitment to magic and sorcery in Monculi and its hinterland).
The lovelorn apprentice used the office computer system to choose her mago and, after the divinations and recommendations, to obtain the potions at the best possible price via internet. The dose, unusually for these kinds of circumstances, having been delivered safely to the unwilling lover, it worked well enough for a holiday to be enjoyed together. After which, he dumped her. But written in the entrails (or whatever - who would like to guess at the horridnesses of Tuscan divination?) was that she was pregnant.
Swain, unconvinced by rituals that bore a remarkable resemblance to old-style family pressures, had some samples in for analysis in the twinkling of an eye. Not only not guilty - not pregnant.
My accountant regretted, but a resignation was a resignation. And opening the office computer system to magical influences was overstepping the mark.
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