Naymila stepped into her master's chamber, finding Cassem engrossed in his usual sea of paperwork. He ignored her entrance completely, his focus never wavering from the documents in front of him. His desk was a clutter of parchment stacks, quills, and inkwells that contrasted with his organized and methodical nature.
Sunlight poured through the room's only window, casting a golden glow that highlighted the dust motes and cobwebs clinging to the neglected upper shelves and corners. Naymila moved along the room, her gaze drawn to the cabinets of dark, polished wood lining the walls. Their surfaces gleamed in the setting sun, concealing within all the curiosities the world had to offer—the personal trove chest belonging to the Shadow Guards' superior.
Cassem rarely allowed strangers to enter his chamber. If there was a need for a meeting, he preferred one of the many empty locations across the Academy's campus. With the number of adepts dwindling each year, he had more options than ever to conduct his affairs away from his primary lair.
Naymila paused before a display case. Inside, enclosed behind thick glass, three flowerpots stood in line, edge to edge. They were made of delicate porcelain and adorned with elaborate paintings of flowers and birds, each one unique yet following a similar style. Despite their beauty, a shared tragedy united them; the pots cradled nothing but the remnants of dried plants that lay atop soil just as parched and barren as they were. Each plant had sprouted merely a pair of tiny, frail leaves before succumbing to its fate.
"I worked so hard to get you those seeds, and you forgot to water them?" Naymila's voice trembled slightly, a pang of hurt evident even as she kept her face composed.
She moved past the withered plants, making her way to the sofa while Cassem remained engrossed in his paperwork, barely acknowledging her with a response.
"It's the second failed attempt," he said. "They all wilted again at the same time, as if they had agreed to give up together."
"Maybe because you're keeping them in the dark? Plants need sun, you know. Have you thought about that?"
"The first batch stayed on the window ledge. This time, I wanted to make sure they stayed isolated from external factors," he explained, his voice carrying a tad of defensiveness.
Settling into the cushions, Naymila watched Cassem sift through document after document, wondering for whom it was all and why he had always been so busy, especially considering he answered only to the emperor himself. Her fingers idly tapped on the velvet armrest, enjoying the texture. Then her hand shifted to her chin, fingers absently tracing the contours of her neck. She wished he would inquire first, to show some semblance of concern, but she was all too aware of the consequences of withholding information.
"Ari will be fine; she's in stable condition. Extreme Power deficiency—that's what they called it. Or was it depletion? I don't remember, but the important thing is that she'll live," Naymila finally shared.
Her words seemed to float, unacknowledged, met only with silence as Cassem continued his meticulous review of the papers before him. The mention of Ari's condition elicited no visible emotion from him, his face impassive as he considered her fate. If he did.
Naymila bit her lip and continued. "I spoke with Fang. He says he doesn't see her passing his class. He mentioned he does not doubt she must have a very unique ability for you to choose her as your disciple, but as it stands, she can't use her Power at all. His last request was to forward him what the plan is, so,"—Naymila made a slight pause—"what's the plan?"
"Plan?" Cassem finally interrupted his work and looked at her. "There is none. If she cannot meet the required standards, she'll have to leave, just like any other candidate."
"And then what? Do we kill her?"
"Kill her? Why?" Cassem's eyebrow arched in curiosity.
"What else? You want to let that thing roam free?"
"And would you be the one to do it?" he challenged her in response. "Last time, you weren't particularly eager. As I recall, you had spent all your efforts on not being spotted rather than attempting to fight 'that thing'. Have you grown bolder over the last few years?"
Naymila tried to give Cassem a hard look, but she knew she had failed. The recollection of that night at the docks still haunted her dreams. "But we can't just let her go," she argued instead, sidestepping his provocation.
Cassem stroked his short beard, his gaze distant, a thoughtful look spreading across his face as he considered the possibilities. "If you're worried that much about our little Ari, I could always take her as an independent apprentice. She'd stay in the Academy, having access to all its resources, but she'd never earn the title of Great Mage," he said, still lost in thoughts. After another moment, he blinked and added, "But let's not get ahead of ourselves; the month has just begun."
"In the entire history of the Academy, there has never been such a case where the candidate couldn't use the Power at all. It's unprecedented. What will the month give her if she's inherently not capable?" Naymila argued, skepticism clearly pronounced in her words.
"She did pretty well during the assessment day if you'd ask me," Cassem pointed out.
"Did she? Or did you pull some trick to secure her admission, hoping she'd have just enough talent to stay backed by your authority? But she is Bandawi. They can't use the Power."
"Even you against me," Cassem sighed, shaking his head, disappointed. "Well, we'll see how it unfolds. For now, let's concentrate on the immediate agenda. It's time for our monthly meeting."
As he concluded, a towering, hooded figure entered the chamber. Naymila swiftly rose, positioning herself in front of Cassem's desk as the man took his place beside her. She threw a sidelong glance at the newcomer. Craning her neck, she attempted to peer into the depths of his hood, but a shadow obscured his face. Standing next to him, she felt diminished, almost childlike in comparison—she barely reached the man's shoulders. And not only was he tall, but his breadth was imposing as well, cloaked in a thick brown cape that draped over his frame like a curtain, obscuring his arms and giving the impression of a mountain towering over her.
"Welcome, Greg," Cassem greeted, clasping his hands together and leaning forward, his chin resting on his interlocking fingers. "I think we can start; others, as usual, are still away on their assignments. Let's hear your report first, Greg."
The giant grunted and sniffed. "As you command, superior," he said in a deep, hollow rumble. Whenever Naymila heard his voice, she could not shake off the feeling that each time it had a different flavor, leaving her with the peculiar impression that were she not to see him, she might not recognize his voice at all.
"As we suspected, Richard Pagard is indeed planning something," Greg began. "He's secured the lands surrounding Sarelli's mines, and I'm convinced he's preparing to launch a hostile takeover soon, likely with the use of force. He's already amassing troops—officially, to safeguard his trading routes, but it all concentrates around Sarelli's properties."
Cassem nodded, his gaze drifting as if piecing together a puzzle. "So, those secret meetings we've been hearing about…"
"Exactly," Greg continued. "He's trying to solidify support for his plan, drawing other nobles into his fold to ensure the transition of ownership meets minimal resistance. He remains cautious in his actions, yet I predict he'll grow more brazen as he edges closer to his goal. What actions shall we take in response?"
"None," Cassem declared, spreading his hands wide while keeping his elbows anchored to the desk. "Our primary concern lies with maintaining imperial stability. The minor squabbles among nobility are theirs to manage. Considering most Great Mages eventually establish their own noble lines, it's natural—and perhaps even beneficial—for there to be a thinning of their ranks now and then. An excess of nobles only muddies the waters of power. If they can resolve their disputes internally, then it falls outside our purview."
He reclined in his chair, musing further. "However, the timing baffles me. Had I been in Pagard's position, I would have made my move much sooner, immediately after the last Great Mage of the Sarellis had died. Pagard likely believed the bloodline had fizzled out after Sarelli failed to produce a new Great Mage in two generations, and doubled down, hoping to capitalize on the gradual decline of their fortune to acquire the mines at a bargain when they were most vulnerable.
"But this year's admission of Ria Sarelli as an adept throws a wrench into his plans, thus, his sudden urgency. But his actions still make little sense. He's not young himself anymore, and his own family hasn't produced a new Great Mage, either. Unless, of course, he's banking on the potential of his youngest grandchildren. But even then, Ria's eventual graduation will put him in a precarious position. She'd steamroll him for any harm done to her family, dismantling any gains he could hope for. She could even kill him without worrying about repercussions. Given the circumstances, the emperor wouldn't even blink in a case of a strong, fresh graduate that can serve for years, versus an old mage that already served his purpose and was at the end of his life either way. On the other hand, Ria is now protected by the Academy and Pagard can't touch her anymore. Risking such a feud is illogical."
"Why would Pagard wait till Ria's admission to act?" Naymila asked, her brow furrowed in thought.
"We're likely missing pieces of the puzzle, but given how nobles love to boast about their offspring, claiming they are prodigies destined for greatness, Pagard might have dismissed the news of Ria's talent as just another exaggerated claim," Cassem said.
"But the massacre at Makina village hardly counts as just an exaggerated claim," Naymila pressed.
Cassem frowned. "Pagard is aging. It's possible his judgment isn't as sharp as it once was. Regardless, I'll assign a shadow to discreetly monitor developments. However, I see no need to divert our elite agents to what seems a rather trivial affair. Greg, do you have anything to add?"
"If our interest is minimal, then that concludes my report," Greg said, and paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "However, since Naymila mentioned Makina—there's talk that Pagard struck some deal with the Burt brothers."
"The Burt brothers. It rings a bell, but details elude me," Cassem said, squinting his eyes to place the name.
"Pirates, predominantly active in Inaroa and Paltra," Naymila cut in. "Quite strong in the Power. Their youngest brother sought to make his mark on land a few years ago, leading a band of outlaws. He died during the Makina incident. If I recall the report correctly, he kidnapped Simon Sarelli, the senior, and his daughter Ria. Then, well, besides the Sarellis, everyone died, including all the villagers."
Cassem offered her a smile. "Very good. I see you're taking your task of observing little Ria seriously. So pirates are now into the mining business, huh? Interesting. Did they come for revenge? Time will tell. Thank you for your report, Greg. Naymila, it's your turn to share your findings," he said, shifting his full focus to her.
Naymila moistened her lips, gathering her thoughts. "Our professor from Paltra and his pupils have sailed down the river without issues. The latest report indicates that local Bandawi have joined them and they have commenced their journey into the Highlands. It'll be a while before we receive any further updates about them."
"And… Um…" She paused, cursing at herself for not writing down her key points beforehand. She was always sure she would know what she needed to say, but once she was on the spot, her mind went blank.
"Ah, right," she finally recalled, exhaling. "Reif—Ari's father, I mean—went with them. At first, I thought he was only responsible for handing them off to a local guide at the foot of the mountains, but it turns out his sons were with him, and it seems they've all tagged along for a family trip deep into the Highlands."
Cassem responded with a light-hearted chuckle. "It's amusing how our cases are becoming interconnected. How did Reif get involved?"
"My Bandawi guy and Reif apparently know each other. Old friends or something like that. I didn't probe too much—it could make him suspicious."
"Well, that works in our favor. With Reif away from the city, he won't pose any distractions for Ari. I've been concerned about how long she'd adhere to our rule against visiting her family. It simplifies matters if there's no pressure from their end, especially during this month."
"She did ask me again a few days ago about a possibility of seeing her mother, but it seems she's come to terms with our condition to wait until after the branding ceremony. I don't anticipate any issues on that front," Naymila said.
"Good. Anything else? What about those people in the undergrounds reported by Ria? Last month, you mentioned needing more time."
"I'm still investigating; nothing has popped up so far. The Academy undergoes a replacement of servants during the summer, resulting in a high volume of people moving in and out, which complicates matters. It's possible that whoever was spotted by Ria might have already left." Naymila paused, considering her next words. "I've instructed our Shadows to pay extra attention to who enters and exits the undergrounds, but we don't have enough people to cover all the entry points, especially if this turns out to be nothing more than children's imagination."
"That's a reasonable approach, yet we must remain vigilant. Our main crystal, the Tramiria, is vital. We need to be certain there's no real danger to it and should anyone attempt to breach its security, I need to be informed right away. Ensure this matter receives the attention it deserves," Cassem said, his expression turning serious.
Naymila acknowledged the directive with a nod.
"All right." Cassem leaned back in his chair. "That concludes the reports. For you, Naymila, nothing changes. Continue with your current assignments. And for you, Greg,"—Cassem shifted his gaze to the towering figure beside Naymila—"I have a new mission."
A smile played on his lips as he elaborated. "It's been a while since you've had the opportunity to venture beyond the Empire's borders, and I find myself in need of a reliable courier. Last week, we received a letter from Doha saying their communication stone had broken. The tangling of a new pair is already underway; once it's ready, you will take one and make sure it safely arrives in the Argenta's capital."
Naymila glimpsed a fuzzy change in the lighting across Greg's face, barely visible under the shadow of his hood. (Did he frown?) she mused.
"And why would you need me for such a trivial matter?" Greg asked.
"The stone that had broken was fairly new, and they had not provided in their letter any explanation."
"Things break; that's how it is," Greg said.
"Indeed. But the letter mentioned also something else. An examiner was murdered two weeks after the assessment day. Decapitated on the street, to be precise."
This time Greg said nothing, waiting for more information to come.
Cassem, seeing no objections, continued. "The time-line is a bit off. The Encompassing Law clearly mandates that a new communication stone must be requested without delay." He looked at his agents. "So, how long does it typically take to deliver a physical letter from Argent Steppe?"
"About a month?" Naymila offered.
"Probably less, using express delivery routes," added Greg.
Cassem nodded at their responses. "The letter is not dated—another peculiarity—but assuming it was sent as quickly as possible after the stone had broken, it still leaves over two weeks between that and the examiner's death. And yet we only learn about it from the letter. Why had they not used the still working stone to inform us? Examiners deaths are under the Empire's jurisdiction.
"And if they delayed requesting the stone, then why? What advantage could they gain that outweighs the risk of attracting the Empire's scrutiny?"
Cassem sighed, having no answers to his questions, then he continued. "I looked into the dead examiner. Rick Orteves; from Inaroa; very mediocre abilities. He retracted his readiness for this year's assessment day. Why?"
"He landed a better-paying job," Naymila said.
"Yes, that's the most likely scenario." Cassem nodded. "The assessment day is the only time during the year when examiners can earn their wages as officials. So, Orteves chose Doha over his duties in Inaroa and lingered there for two weeks post-assessment until his eventual demise. What kept him there? Was he still on the job? Was the job even related to the assessment day? Doha is not known for its hospitality, so I doubt he stayed to enjoy leisure."
"Perhaps he found true love," Greg suggested.
One side of Cassem's lip lifted in reaction. "Perhaps, or perhaps, it's all just a coincidence. But the time-lines are off; the communication stone broke, the examiner died, and it all stinks. Greg, you'll deliver the replacement stone and unearth where do these discrepancies come from. If love killed him, so be it."
"Yes, superior," Greg said. "Do I go officially?"
"You can use all the authority of Shadow Guards. Start with questioning them about the time gap between their letter and the examiner's death. Frame it like the issue interests you solely from the bureaucratic point of view; like your primary concern is their failure to comply with the Encompassing Law. Handle the rest according to your own judgment."
"Yes, superior," Greg repeated.
Cassem rubbed his temples wearily. "That's all I got. You're dismissed, both of you. And Greg, there are still at least a few days before they finish tangling that replacement stone, so until they do, you're relieved from duty. Rest."
"Yes, superior," Greg said for the third time, while Naymila only nodded.
Together, they exited the room in shared silence, their footsteps echoing through the ancient, stone-lined hallways of the Academy. As they navigated the maze of corridors towards the exit, Naymila stole occasional glances at the hooded giant.
"Argent Steppe. That's nice," she eventually mused aloud, breaking the silence. "I'm never getting assignments reaching beyond the Empire, and now I'm stuck with babysitting."
"The puppy must stay close to the master," the hoarse voice sounded from above.
"Puppy? Is someone envious here?" Naymila's voice turned sweet.
"May be. The puppy grew up, and now is hurting that master had found a new, younger puppy, to play with."
Hearing that, Naymila halted. Her gaze lingered on Greg's retreating back as he stepped out into the daylight, leaving her momentarily alone. She opened her mouth as if to retort, then closed it, deciding against it.
(I'm not hurting. I don't care what Cassem does. I have my own life and this is just a job,) she asserted in her mind. (But I need to know what his intentions are with those kids he handpicked).
With that thought firm in her mind, she stepped out into the daylight too, the fresh air washing over her as she pondered her next move.
*
Ari lay in her infirmary bed, her silver hair splayed across the white pillow, her red eyes fixed on the monochrome ceiling. Despite Ria's constant chatter, she remained distant and unresponsive, lost in thoughts.
The room was quiet except for Ria's voice echoing off the cold, sterile walls. Ari was acutely aware of the pristine white sheets that covered her and the brisk, clean air nipping at her nostrils with each inhale. The blanket's warmth was a soothing balm against the room's pervasive chill. Her hands were tightly bandaged, the white fabric blending with her pale skin. The itch was starting to nag again, yet she chose to ignore it, focusing instead on Ria's words.
"... and that's why Te-a is more important than Tau. Remember that; it may be on the exam. Next, the teacher said that…" Ria's exuberant voice continued to fill the infirmary as she informed Ari about everything she had missed during her already four-day stay. Seated on the bed's edge, Ria leaned in, her narrative unwavering, as if the words themselves could bridge the gap between Ari and the world she was missing.
Despite her concentration on Ria's words, Ari confronted the harsh truth: she could never pass the practical exam. She was a Bandawi, an ultimate Powerless, and despite her invitation to the Academy, the Power refused to flow through her body.
The prospect of missing out on all the knowledge and skills she needed to become a proper adept while she was bound to her bed was overwhelming. Despair washed over her in waves, making her feel nauseous and small. She wanted to puke, but there was nothing left inside her stomach to bring up—the infirmary staff had kept her on a strict diet of light broths. Still, she did not interrupt Ria. She pretended to listen, letting her mind tune out the sound of her friend's voice until it was nothing more than background static.
Ria had seemingly appointed herself Ari's personal academic guardian, determined to prevent her from falling behind in her studies at the Academy. Despite her own bleak thoughts, Ari could not bear to dampen Ria's spirits. The girl was buzzing with excitement, ready to update Ari on all the classes and events she had missed. So, Ari lay there, feeling lost and helpless, wondering why she had ever thought becoming a Great Mage was a possibility for her.
A dull, heavy knocking interrupted Ria's monologue. Both girls turned their attention to the room's entrance, where a man stood, his fist poised to knock again at the wooden frame.
"Good evening, girls," the man said cheerfully, stepping into the room.
Ria's eyes went wide, and she scrambled off the bed as fast as she could. "Good evening, Master Toaro," she replied once she stood up, casting flickering glances between Ari and the newcomer. "Um, I think I've told you everything. I'll come back again tomorrow. Take care."
Without waiting for Ari's response, Ria bolted from the room. Master Toaro chuckled with amusement at the sight as he approached Ari.
"How are you feeling? The nurses have told me you're doing well now. They'll probably keep you for another week to ensure you're fully recovered, but besides that, they seem confident that no lasting harm was done," he said.
(Another week? I'm finished,) Ari mused. Her mental barricade wavered a little, and a few tears ran down her cheeks, followed by a suppressed, quiet cry.
"Now, now," Master Toaro said as he claimed the spot Ria had just vacated. "That's good news. No need to cry."
"I w-won't make it," she stammered, attempting to wipe away her tears with her bandaged hands, yet the tears continued to flow.
"You'll have two weeks to catch up, and there's nothing beyond the reach of a dedicated adept. Moreover, from what I've heard, you had already succeeded in outputting your Power. You were even too successful and almost drained all of it," he said, offering her a reassuring smile. "Besides, do you remember your Assessment Day? I was very impressed that day; you have undeniable potential."
"You were impressed?" She halted another sob halfway through, looking up with curiosity.
"Absolutely; why else would I have taken you on as my personal apprentice?"
"I'm your apprentice?" she asked, her eyes still gleamed with tears, but she was no longer crying. She had often heard people calling her "Cassem's girl," but she assumed it was merely because he had overseen her examination. The picture she pieced together from information about his involvement in assessments was that he was never taking part in them. And this year, out of nowhere, he had appeared at her examination to hand her a golden envelope with an invitation already customized with her name. "You are exceptionally dumb, my child," her father's words popped into her mind. He was sure it was some kind of Empire's ploy, and not for the first time in recent days, she thought that maybe he was not entirely wrong. But on the other hand, she could feel the Power within her even if she could not release it, and that was a fact.
"Ah, yes, we never spoke about it. It's supposed to be official after the Branding," said Master Toaro, scratching the back of his head. "That's why I insisted you should focus on foundational classes rather than exploring your innate ability. You need to pass the exams and become a branded adept before we can delve into your real strengths."
He took a moment, then added, "Also, I must admit, I didn't expect the issues you're facing. But, in my defense, we had never had a Bandawi student before, so this is uncharted territory for both of us. On the bright side, we've learned that you can use the Power. Granted, self-harm is not ideal, but it may be just enough as a starting point. So, lift your spirits and focus on not falling behind in your studies. Leverage Miss Sarelli's enthusiasm in helping you to keep up with the theory, and you'll still have two full weeks to tackle the practical aspects afterwards."
Ari sniffled and blinked several times to clear her eyes, her mind whirring with thoughts. She wanted to ask about her father's theories, but she was afraid the bubble would burst, ending her dream. She preferred to stay oblivious as long as she could, and Master Toaro gave her just that—a way to extend her dream.
She looked at her bandages hiding the skin ravaged by the escaping Power. Could she use that to her advantage? She did not know, but if Master Toaro was hinting at that, she would try it.
"I'll do my best," she said, sniffing again.
"That's what I wanted to hear." Cassem patted her quilt-covered leg and stood up. "I'll ask the doctor to release you as soon as possible. For now, rest."
He left, leaving Ari alone with her thoughts.
After visiting Ari, Ria's day had taken her from the infirmary to the Academy's shadowed corridors, where the underbelly of the institution sprawled like a forgotten labyrinth. She followed the winding pathways, her step confident as her gaze meticulously scanned all the entrances to the undergrounds she had passed by. Her past encounter with the suspicious men talking about the city's main crystal had left her uneasy. She would not tolerate spies of the necromancers roaming freely in the heart of the Empire. But her report to the Academy officials had evaporated into indifference, their actions—or lack thereof—suggesting a disbelief or disregard for her concerns. Undeterred, Ria took it upon herself to patrol between the undergrounds' entrances in the search of elusive figures that had sparked her alarm.
Her vigilance had yet to pay off, and today was not the day. She finished her route to her planned destination—the vast door of the library—with no encounters. Stepping inside, she could not help but to let her frustrations envelop her deeper—her thoughts shifting from necromantic spies to her own squad.
It started all too well, no surprise it would not last, crumbling into dust right after she finally escaped her irritating sisters and made her first real friend. Ria supported Ari with her whole heart, but she had no delusions; the Academy turned a blind eye to virtually all transgressions with but a slap on the wrist for the heavier offenses, however you had to be worth it, you had to back yourself with vast amounts of the Power.
To make it worse, the rest of their squad were boys. After Ari was gone, who knew if they would secure a replacement, given the initial squads were meant to last for life. Kiran was kind of all right, but he never talked to her, just following her and Ari like a shadow. They spent the summer roaming together, so through their shared adventures, she had grown used to it by now. The others she met only a few days ago. Alec had not made the best impression when he tried to burn them alive the very first night, and his bulky frame did nothing to inspire confidence in his agility or reliability. How was she supposed to trust him to have her back out in the fields, surrounded by a horde of undead?
Elathiel was not even worth mentioning. Why would the Academy admit anyone from that traitorous family was beyond her. She was determined to see him removed from their squad, though she doubted any other group would willingly accept a trade. Including the loss of Ari, it meant they needed two replacements. (Perhaps it would be easier to dump them all and find a new squad for myself,) she mused.
Lost in these ruminations while passing the library's endless aisles, Ria's thoughts were suddenly interrupted. A flicker of white caught her peripheral vision, causing her to halt mid-stride.
(Thinking of the devil…)
"Ho, what do we have here?" Ria hissed at the boy standing farther down the aisle. "Immersing ourselves in tales of treachery, are we? Trying to justify your family's sins, or perhaps seeking redemption and absolution for your heavy conscience? Maybe there's hope for you after all."
Elathiel shifted his gaze from the thick tome in his grasp to meet Ria's eyes, his voice a whisper yet loud enough to bridge the distance between them. "There's a certain allure in reading about the turmoil, about how the mighty Empire struggled against a mere island, and how your chronicles try to downplay the situation, yet are unable to cover the scale of it. Have you ever delved into the accounts? Doesn't anything strike you odd?"
"What struggling? You were wiped clean in two days, and the rest was nothing but a hunt for scattered rogue mages," Ria retorted in a hushed tone. "I should have known that the sliver of hope I got for you was utterly misplaced. Trash remains trash, no matter what. Enjoy your brief tenure in the Academy, traitor." She barely could hold her voice down any longer, so to avoid making a scene, she stormed off, her expression darkening with every step.
(He smirked at me in the end! He smirked! Absolutely disgusting trash,) she fumed internally as she approached the end of the library's central lane. Fueled by rage, she was at her destination in no time, hardly noticing her surroundings as she dedicated her mind to adding more scornful thoughts to her inner fury.
"How can I help you, miss?"
The inquiry cut through Ria's tumultuous thoughts like a breeze, instantly cooling her fervor. She shook her head, chiding herself for behavior that could put her mission at risk, and then focused on the old librarian standing behind the counter. His sparse silver hair haloed around a scalp that gleamed under the library's subdued lighting, and even though he looked like a dried, wizened husk, his eyes beamed with sharpness.
Ria swallowed, not so sure about her great plan anymore, but since she was already here, it was a bit too late to retreat, especially with all the other things falling into ruin.
"Um, I'm a Life mage, and I was wondering if you could recommend me any books on Death magic?" she said.
The librarian frowned, and Ria felt a lump form in her throat.
"Is the fact that you are a Life mage of any importance here?" he asked.
"Well, I was thinking that, uh, I need to learn how to heal damage done by Death Power, and it's better to start early—it must be a lot to learn," she said, proud of being able to formulate a plausible reason.
The librarian's frown deepened. "Death Power is a taboo, my child. There is no way to learn about it. It's forbidden to know about it. And there is nothing to learn for healers like you. You can't fix what's already dead."
"But how are we supposed to defend ourselves against it without understanding it?" Ria could not stop herself from raising her voice.
"Defense is a separate matter. While deep understanding of your attacker's Power is helpful, it's not essential for developing protection strategies. I'm afraid you are limited to the subsection about the Death Power countering; there's nothing else on the topic."
"Death Power countering subsection?" Ria repeated automatically.
"Yes, the one that is part of the Life section. You must be familiar with it, if you're a Life mage."
"Ah, right, that section, of course," Ria laughed nervously. "I was hoping for… well, something a bit more in-depth." She licked her lips, taking a shy peek in the direction of Life section.
"There's nothing more. Don't even think about getting to know more. It's forbidden for a reason," he warned, his voice firm yet not unkind.
"Understood, my intention wasn't to overstep. I only wanted to ensure I'm well-prepared should I ever encounter a necromancer," Ria clarified hastily.
The librarian's expression softened into one of understanding, and he nodded in approval. "Preparation is wise."
Ria offered a modest bow of her head and began to turn away. "I'll explore the Life Power materials then. Thank you for your patience, and my apologies for any inconvenience," she said.
"That's why I'm here. Should you require specific volumes or further guidance, do not hesitate to ask," the librarian offered.
Ria bowed her head one more time and marched at high speed towards the Life section of the library, resisting with all her might the urge to break into a run. As she wove through the library aisles, she became painfully aware of the time she had wasted so far on her fruitless search.
(I've combed through all these aisles, scouring every shelf for titles that even remotely suggested they would contain specks of information about Death Power, finding nothing. And now it turns out that what I wanted lay in the one section I had ignored on purpose.)
She clenched her fists. Why did she have to be a Life mage? Why was she destined to be a mere support class? That was not fair. And now, because she had tried to defy her fate, she also lost the chance to learn early about whatever the Academy permitted about Death Power. The universe had been tirelessly working against her.
[In the annals of Nadoo's history, the motives of its monarch, the Great Mage Savitas Candalore, have long been a subject of debate and speculation. The islands themselves have a storied past, marked by numerous separatist movements, and were among the last to submit to the Union's authority and recognize the role of the Frontline Empire. Despite this, Savitas Candalore was initially perceived as a wise and loyal leader, earning the Emperor's blessing upon his coronation and pledging his allegiance to the Union's ideals.
However, the sudden outbreak of aggression from Nadoo's court, led by Savitas, has left many puzzled, with no clear explanation yet uncovered. The failure of the Gray Fortress siege and the swift punitive response of the Empire helped to contain the incident, and the rebellion was ultimately quashed in a mere matter of days. Nevertheless, the perplexing motivations behind Nadoo's ruler continue to intrigue historians and scholars alike, leaving the true story of this turbulent period shrouded in mystery.]
Elathiel snapped the book shut, shaking his head. It happened five years ago. Five years. And the author had made it sound like a tale from ancient history.
He returned the volume to its rightful place, between two other thick tomes, then cast a lingering glance at the spot from which Ria Sarelli attempted to enrage him a few moments ago. The spot was empty now. Ria was only a mindless, ignorant pawn; he should not entertain her. But she was also irritating like a persistent, buzzing mosquito, and upon graduation, she was poised to become an important cog in the Empire's political machinery. Yes, he concluded, his hatred was not misplaced.
Surveying the shelves once more, Elathiel decided against delving into further texts. They all echoed the same distorted narrative. That his father attacked the Gray Fortress, the only place on the island leased to the Empire as a local diplomatic base. That he failed the siege, got killed, and his forces scattered. A bunch of lies.
Elathiel was there that night. His father did not initiate the attack; he sought to resolve the issue peacefully, risking a personal meeting with the Empire's representatives inside the Gray Fortress. But they killed him. That was the trigger.
And all these sources he had found in the library were missing the most crucial part: his older sister. They did not mention her at all, as if she did not exist in the first place. Even the annalists dealing with the aftermath of the rebellion kept eerie silence about her, despite her being the reason why all of it happened. What had the Empire done with her? Had they killed her too? Or perhaps they were keeping her imprisoned somewhere? He would find the answer—that's why he agreed to enroll in the first place, but the official records were of no use. He needed access to the restricted archives.
Elathiel made his way back to the central lane, heading towards the librarian's desk at the far end. His pace deliberately slowed as he noticed Ria wrapping up her conversation with the aged librarian and then quickly departing into one of the adjacent aisles. Her haste piqued his interest, yet he made a point of lingering until she was well out of sight before approaching the librarian himself.
The old man raised his head from the sea of notes cluttering his desk. "Yes?" he asked, with an air of distraction.
Maintaining the impeccably upright posture instilled in him from a young age, Elathiel offered a polite, measured smile as he addressed the librarian. "I wish to take a library management course as one of my specializations."
"Why?" the old man barely let Elathiel finish his sentence. "It's a mundane and boring choice, not befitting a Great Mage. We typically invite gifted students from noble families who seek a scholarly path yet fall short of the Academy's rigorous standards to take care of the library."
Elathiel's smile remained intact, undeterred by the piercing gaze of the librarian. "Books have always been my companions. I believe this is my place to be," he lied with practiced ease.
"You're welcome to spend as much time as you'd like here, but there's no need to waste it on the specialization," the librarian countered.
Elathiel's smile waned into a facade of solemnity. "Considering my circumstances, I think it would be for the best if I kept myself to less frequented specializations. My presence is not well received in the Academy," he said.
The librarian's eyes briefly flicked to Elathiel's distinctive white hair, then to his right hand, questioning, "Have you been branded yet, young man?"
Elathiel presented his unmarked palm. "Not yet, but it's a formality."
The librarian chuckled. "Confident, are we? Well, come back once you're branded. As it is now, you're not even a proper adept yet."
"Are there any prerequisites I need to fulfill?" Elathiel asked, keen to gather as much information as possible.
The librarian frowned for a second. "No, not really," he said slowly. "But you will need a quite good memory to finish the course."
"Thank you, Master Librarian, in that case, I will enroll right after the branding ceremony." Elathiel bowed in a similar fashion as Ria had before and directed himself toward the library's exit. After a few steps, he unwound his ability.
As he walked, a wave of subtle impressions flooded his mind, fainter than he expected, but he should have anticipated that in the contemplative silence of the library. The most pronounced signal emanated from behind him; the librarian's gaze lingered on Elathiel's back as he was departing. This knowledge, gleaned from the ambient impressions, offered scant detail.
Deciding to gamble a bit, Elathiel summoned his Power, crafting a discreet probe directed at the old librarian. His previous ability was a safe one; perceiving impressions worked like hearing or sight—he was receiving the passive stimuli without alerting others to its use. The probe, on the other hand, was a very much intrusive endeavor, susceptible to detection and tracing. To reduce the risk, Elathiel conjured a very low energy, invisible probe that would report once and then vanish.
The first phase proceeded smoothly—the probe approached the librarian's head uninterrupted; he must have not raised his personal zone. As the old man mentioned before, working in the library was not a thing usually done by Great Mages, allowing Elathiel's probe to reach the target undetected.
Upon contact, a flurry of surface thoughts brushed against Elathiel's consciousness. He dared not delve deeper, yet this brief encounter revealed much; the librarian had indeed recognized the signature white hair and identified Elathiel. Despite that, the emotional undertone was surprisingly neutral, tinged only with a hint of amusement. No animosity or suspicion marred the librarian's perception of his request to specialize in library management.
Almost as quickly as it had begun, the connection was lost, the librarian's thoughts spiraling into an indecipherable whirl. The old man's mind must have subconsciously detected that something was wrong, derailing any further musings he might have had, forcing him to focus on the present instead.
Keen to get out of the librarian's sight, Elathiel hastened his step a bit, just the right amount to avoid undue attention. It would be a disaster if people started making connections between being confused and his presence nearby.
With that in mind, he still stopped abruptly at one of the side aisles. At its very far end, Ria sat on the ground surrounded by mounds of books from every side. A few tomes were open, and she was constantly switching between them as she turned pages, clearly following references.
(So she is the hard-working student type, huh? I'd never guess that,) he mused, observing her. An idea to snarl at her flashed in his mind in an instant, but he discarded it as fast. Avoid attention—that was the right thing to do.
He left the library.
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