The Untrainable Immortal (Ragnar the Ruinous #8)

Professor Eldrin Nightshade here, embarking on a new, highly ambitious, and frankly, rather perplexing scientific endeavor: the training of Ragnar the Ruinous. Having conclusively proven his regrettable invincibility (and his alarming fondness for my emergency scones), I've concluded that if I cannot annihilate him, I must, at the very least, attempt to instill some semblance of civility. Or, failing that, teach him to fetch my slippers."

• The First Lesson: 'Sit' (A Study in Utter Disregard): My initial approach was classic conditioning, as recommended by a very ancient (and likely insane) text on 'Fauna Domestication through Polite Persuasion.' I held up a perfectly good scone (sacrificial, of course), uttered a firm "Sit, Ragnar!" and waited. Ragnar, for his part, simply tilted his head, regarded the scone with intense scrutiny, then promptly performed a rather impressive backflip, snatched the scone mid-air, and vanished under a workbench. Fifteen minutes later, I found him attempting to teach a dust bunny how to juggle. Clearly, he interprets 'sit' as 'perform impressive acrobatic feats for snacks.'

• The Fetch Debacle (My Favorite Shoes Are Gone): Confident that fetching, a simpler task, would prove more amenable, I presented Ragnar with a discarded slipper. "Fetch!" I commanded, with all the authority of a seasoned explorer. He seized it with enthusiasm, darted out of the lab, and returned precisely twenty minutes later. Not with my slipper, mind you, but with Mr. Blathersby's meticulously polished monocle. I spent the next hour apologetically explaining to him that his monocle had merely gone on "a brief, unscheduled interdimensional jaunt for research purposes." My slippers, incidentally, have yet to reappear.

• The 'No Chewing on Priceless Artifacts' Rule (A Glittering Exception): I attempted to instill a basic understanding of property rights. I presented Ragnar with a very old (and very valuable) alchemical parchment, clearly indicating "No Chewing!" He watched me, then, with a glint in his eye, proceeded to very deliberately apply a liberal coating of my experimental 'Iridescent Glimmer-Paste' to Blathersby's prize-winning abacus. It now glows faintly and hums a sea shanty. He looked remarkably smug. My lab, incidentally, now has a perpetually shimmering floor.

• The Toilet Training Attempt (A Flood of Misunderstanding): This was, perhaps, my most misguided venture. I set up a small, raccoon-sized litter box, filled with what I hoped was an attractive substrate. Ragnar, after a thorough sniffing inspection, proceeded to use it as a makeshift hot tub for my entire collection of miniature garden gnomes. The resulting flood required three powerful drying spells and a very strong cup of Evening Star for my nerves. The gnomes, I might add, are now convinced they've achieved spiritual enlightenment.

• The 'Controlled Chaos' Hypothesis (A New Beginning?): After these… enlightening failures, I've had a breakthrough. Ragnar is not untrainable in the conventional sense. He is simply… unconventional. His 'training' requires a shift in my own perspective. Rather than attempting to force him into compliance, I shall attempt to channel his boundless energy. Perhaps I can teach him to sort my ingredients by spectral luminescence, or to fetch specific tools (provided they're too large to eat).

• Coping with the 'Cafe Pet' (A Reluctant Acceptance): The Seventh Atelier now has a new, undeniably permanent, and utterly untamed mascot. I've begun referring to him as the "Atelier's Unofficial Quality Control Inspector" when he inevitably rummages through the tea boxes. Seraphina Gloomwater, bless her heart, insists he's a sentient guardian of lost cutlery. Captain Tiberius Krakenbeard believes he's a "land-squirrelish beastie with a glint in its eye and a soul for plunder," which is not inaccurate. I suppose a small, reinforced personal tea set for him is the next logical step. And perhaps a tiny broom. One can always hope.

Yours in reluctant acceptance (and the faint hope he learns to make a decent cup of tea),

Professor Eldrin Nightshade Alchemist of the Seventh Atelier