Chương 132: Chapter 130. Distinguished

"What?" Headmaster Meris leaned forward in his chair, the springs creaking in protest. His bushy white eyebrows formed perfect arches above bewildered eyes. Valiant blinked rapidly, his whiskers twitching with barely contained energy. He wore a charcoal suit at least two sizes too large, the sleeves rolled up multiple times to free his paws. A silver pin in the shape of a lightning bolt adorned his lapel, occasionally emitting tiny sparks.

"What do you mean 'what'?" Valiant squeaked, tail lashing behind him.

"What did you not understand in what I just said?"

"Nothing, to be quite frank," Meris replied, adjusting his spectacles.

"Absolutely nothing at all."

"Oh!" Valiant's ears perked up.

"Well, that's great then! So, my name is Valiant, and me and my goons—""Not your goons, little boss," rumbled Thormund from behind him.

"It's a figure of speech," Valiant hissed, turning to face his companion. He lowered his voice to what he apparently thought was a whisper.

"Don't embarrass me in front of the mage." The "whisper" was perfectly audible to everyone in the room, including Meris, who maintained a look of polite interest despite the situation. Valiant cleared his throat, tugged at his oversized collar, and turned back to the Headmaster.

"So. My name is Valiant. I am an information broker with an extensive spy network throughout Arkhos. My associates and I—" he gestured grandly to the three people standing behind him, "—have uncovered some deeply troubling information regarding Farmusian activities in the city."

"Yes, I understood that part," Meris said, tapping a quill against his desk. Valiant's tail froze mid-swish.

"Then what didn't you understand?!"

"Perhaps you could repeat the part about Farmus and the attack," Meris suggested mildly.

"Just to be certain we're on the same page." Valiant's whiskers drooped. He shot an aggrieved look at his companions, as if they might rescue him from the indignity of repetition.

"Really?" he muttered, small paws fidgeting with his oversized cufflinks.

"You want me to say it all again? The entire thing? Word for word? As if I hadn't spent twenty minutes explaining every single detail while you just sat there looking... looking... headmastery?" Meris waited, expression unchanged, hands folded neatly on his desk.

"Fine," Valiant grumbled, smoothing his suit jacket with jerky motions.

"But I'm abbreviating." He puffed out his tiny chest, took a deep breath, and launched into his explanation.

"Three weeks ago, one of my people—the one who watches the northern docks, not the western ones, those are Krill's territory and he gets snippy if we cross—anyway, northern docks, strange ship, middle of the night, no cargo manifests." He ticked points off on his clawed fingers as he spoke, never quite finishing one thought before jumping to the next.

"Twenty-seven passengers disembarked. Humans, mostly. Two beastkin. One of those weird tall ones from the eastern islands that nobody talks about. They scattered into the city like someone kicked an anthill." Meris leaned forward slightly, his attention now fully captured.

"We tracked sixteen of them," Valiant continued, occasionally emitting small sparks when particularly agitated.

"Lost the rest in the Lower Quarter—which, by the way, needs better street lighting, it's a public safety hazard and I've filed three complaints with the city council." Thormund cleared his throat meaningfully.

"Right, yes. Focus." Valiant's tail swished in annoyance.

"The sixteen we tracked have been setting up safe houses. Purchasing odd quantities of very specific alchemical ingredients. Meeting with known criminal elements. Bribing dock officials. Watching guard rotations. Mapping the sewers. Classic pre-attack behavior."

"They're Farmusian?" Meris asked.

"Obviously," Valiant said, his whiskers twitching as if the question offended him.

"Their accents. Their coin. The way they hold their forks—Farmusians stab food like they're killing it a second time." He began pacing a small circuit in front of the desk, his oversized shoes occasionally catching on the carpet.

"But here's the interesting part—" he spun dramatically, pointing a claw at Meris, "—they're not just spies. We've seen their kind before. These are advance agents. Saboteurs. The ones who prepare the ground for something bigger." Thormund nodded solemnly. Lissa—the scarred woman who hadn't spoken yet—produced a small notebook from her pocket and slid it across the desk to Meris.

"Names. Locations. Contacts. Known associates," Valiant explained.

"All neatly organized because I am a professional." The notebook was bound in worn leather, its pages filled with cramped but meticulously neat handwriting. Diagrams, maps, and what appeared to be coded messages filled the margins.

"So," Valiant planted his paws on his hips, "do you understand now?" Meris studied the notebook for a long moment.

"Yes," he said finally.

"I believe I do."

"Excellent." Valiant looked genuinely relieved.

"But why tell me?" Meris asked, closing the notebook.

"I'm merely the headmaster of a mage academy. Wouldn't it be better to take this to the relevant authorities?" Valiant's ears flattened against his head.

"We have reason to believe some of those relevant authorities are compromised."

"How so?"

"Three of the spies we've been tracking have had regular meetings with people in very interesting uniforms," Valiant said, picking at an invisible piece of lint on his sleeve.

"City guard. Customs officials. One particularly grumpy fellow from the harbor master's office."

"That's troubling, but hardly proof of widespread corruption," Meris pointed out.

"No, but it's enough to make us cautious," Valiant countered.

"If they know that we know what they know, then they'll know to stop us from knowing more, you know?" Meris blinked.

"I believe I followed that."

"We need help," Valiant admitted, his voice dropping to a more serious tone than before.

"But we can't risk approaching the authorities without knowing who to trust. You're one of the most influential figures in Arkhos. You could get this information to the right people."

"And what makes you think I'm not a traitor?" Meris asked, his expression unreadable.

"Well, our contractor said—""Contractor?" Meris cut in, suddenly alert.

"Were you sent here?"

"No! No, no, no," Valiant backpedaled, waving his paws frantically.

"Nobody sends me anywhere. I'm the boss. The boss!" A small electrical discharge popped from his whiskers, singeing the edge of his oversized collar.

"I came here of my own volition," he continued, trying to regain his composure.

"Because I wanted to. The associate who sent—" he caught himself, "—who asked, very politely, if we might consider coming here, told us you were reliable." Meris's gaze shifted to Thormund, who sighed heavily.

"We were supposed to come without him," the one-armed man explained.

"But he insisted."

"I don't trust middlemen," Valiant interjected.

"Information gets fuzzy in transit."

"This associate of yours," Meris said slowly, "I assume they wish to remain anonymous?" Valiant straightened his posture, attempting to look professional.

"Of course."

"They wouldn't happen to be a student of this academy, would they?"

"Naaaaah," Valiant dragged the word out unconvincingly.

"He's definitely not a student. At all. I swear."

"So it is a 'he,'" Meris noted, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

"That narrows the pool of possibilities considerably." Valiant froze, his eyes widening as he realized his mistake. He glanced at Thormund, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Well, that's all we came to say!" Valiant declared abruptly, jumping down from his chair.

"Very busy day ahead. Information to broker. Spies to spy on. You know how it is." He began backing toward the door, his companions following his lead with varying degrees of reluctance.

"Keep the notebook. A gift. No charge. Professional courtesy," Valiant babbled, fumbling with the doorknob behind him.

"We'll be in touch. Or not. Probably not. Forget we were here." The door swung open, and Valiant nearly tumbled backward through it.

"But if you need us—" he added, poking his head back in.

"I know how to find you," Meris finished for him.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Valiant muttered, and then he was gone, the rapid patter of his tiny feet echoing down the corridor. Thormund lingered for a moment, exchanging a meaningful look with Meris before following his employer. Meris watched the door close behind Thormund's broad back. The office settled into a familiar silence, broken only by the ticking of the ornate clock in the corner. He pulled the leather-bound notebook closer and began to flip through the pages.

The information was meticulous—dates, times, locations. Sketches of faces with annotations about distinctive features. Maps of Arkhos with routes marked in different colors. Lists of purchased items with quantities and vendors noted. As he read, Meris's expression grew increasingly grave. The sparks of concern ignited by Valiant's erratic explanation were fanned into a steady flame by the cold, hard evidence before him. After several minutes, he closed the notebook and sighed.

"Never a dull moment," he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples.

"Some dark days ahead, indeed." With a single movement, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small communication crystal. He turned it three times counterclockwise in his palm, then tapped a specific sequence against its faceted surface. The crystal warmed, glowing softly. Meris held it near his ear.

"Meris?" The voice was clear despite its distance, deep and familiar.

"Gaius," Meris replied, "I'm afraid that thing we were suspecting is about to happen. Farmus is preparing to attack." Silence stretched between them for several heartbeats.

"How do you know?" Gaius finally asked.

"Is the information reliable?"

"A strange mouse beastkin brought it to me," Meris said, glancing at the notebook.

"Sent by young Adom, I presume."

"Ah."

"We should heed the youngster's words," Meris said, rising from his chair to pace before the window.

"Be proactive."

"The academy will have to be closed, then," Gaius replied.

"We'll need to lure the perpetrators out—not stop them immediately, but let them spring their trap while we prepare our own. The evidence we gather could serve as proof against the Prince." Meris paused by the window, looking out over the academy grounds where students moved between buildings, blissfully unaware of the dangers brewing.

"Say, old friend," he said.

"Yes?"

"It's about time you had a discussion with young Adom." A weighty pause.

"I was going to," Gaius said eventually.

"After all this. Maybe." The crystal cooled in Meris's hand, signaling the end of the connection. He returned it to his pocket and stood for a long moment, watching the normal, peaceful life of the academy unfold below. Soon enough, that peace would be shattered. But for now, at least, the students could enjoy a few more normal days.

A few weeks later... Adom stood as the bells of Xerkes Academy rang out, signaling the end of the semester. Sunlight poured through the living glass walls of the Basic Bonding classroom, catching in the fine silver tips of Zuni's spines. Three weeks gone in a blink. The academic year finished, just like that. You're looking uncharacteristically pensive, Zuni observed from his perch on Adom's shoulder. Are you contemplating the inexorable passage of time, or simply wondering what's for lunch?

"A bit of both," Adom admitted, gathering his notes.

"Hard to believe it's over already." The semester had flown by in a blur. With things like the tournament, the prison break, and international conspiracies, school had become almost an afterthought. He'd attended classes, of course, but his mind had often been elsewhere. School was, well... school. Boring, even in his second life. Adom preferred learning at his own pace, without forced assignments and arbitrary deadlines. And speaking of assignments...

Professor Elowen tapped her wooden rod against her desk, gathering the class's attention. The sound quieted the room immediately.

"Before you all rush off to celebrate the end of term," she said, her voice carrying easily through the space, "I'd like to say a few words." She moved to the front of her desk, looking over the students with a gentle smile.

"Basic Bonding was never designed to produce fully formed druidic partnerships in a single semester. It was intended as an introduction—a taste of what druidic practice entails." Beside Adom, Merin stroked her quillick's sandy fur, her expression already turning wistful. Across the aisle, Tanner was deliberately avoiding looking at his assigned companion.

"As I mentioned on our first day," Professor Elowen continued, "those of you who haven't formed a complete bond will need to return your quillicks today." A ripple of disappointment moved through the room. From what Adom could tell, only a handful of students—perhaps five or six out of thirty—had managed to establish the mental communication that indicated a true bond.

"This isn't a failure," the professor assured them.

"It simply means that particular pairing wasn't meant to be. Many druids try several companions before finding their match." Heartbreaking, Zuni commented privately to Adom. Though I must say, Bixby looks rather relieved. Poor Tanner hasn't the faintest idea how to communicate. All static and shouting. Adom glanced at Tanner's quillick—a tawny creature with unusually large ears. Now that Zuni mentioned it, the quillick did look somewhat relieved.

"What's Bixby saying?" Tanner asked, noticing Adom's glance. Adom hesitated.

"He, uh... appreciates the effort you've made." What a diplomatic translation, Zuni snorted mentally. What he actually said was 'thank the Great Oak it's over, my ears may never recover.' Adom suppressed a smile. Understanding other beings had been useful, helping struggling classmates understand their companions. Though sometimes, like now, discretion seemed the better part of valor. Orrin is quite distraught about leaving Jace, Zuni observed, gesturing with his head toward a gray quillick across the room.

They were close to breaking through. Another week might have done it. Professor Elowen was still speaking.

"Those of you who have formed bonds, please stay after class to discuss your options going forward. The rest of you, please bring your quillicks and carriers to the front." A slow procession formed as students reluctantly approached the desk. Some quillicks went willingly into their carriers. Others required coaxing. Adom realized with a start that he and Zuni had never actually discussed what would happen today. The thought of returning the small blue creature had simply... never occurred to him.

Zuni had become such a constant presence, it was like contemplating returning his own arm. You've gone very quiet, Zuni noted, pressing his warm weight against Adom's neck.

"I just realized we never talked about... this," Adom replied, gesturing to the students saying goodbye to their quillicks. Ah. You're wondering if I'll be returning to the academy's care.

"Will you?" Adom asked, surprised by how much the answer suddenly mattered. Fishing for compliments, are we? Zuni's mental voice carried its usual dry humor, but there was something softer underneath. I must say, I've grown rather accustomed to our arrangement. The food is better, for one thing. Your pockets are warmer than the academy nests. And I've developed a habit for sugar now. Before Adom could respond, Professor Elowen appeared beside their desk.

"Mr. Sylla," she said, "might I have a word?"

"Mr. Sylla," Professor Elowen said, her eyes crinkling at the corners, "I've been observing your progress with Zuni these past weeks. Among all the students, you've formed the most successful bond—by quite a margin."

"Thank you," Adom replied, unsure where this was going.

"There's something you should know about Zuni." She gestured to the quillick.

"He's what we call an elder quillick. He's been with the academy for some time." Elder? Zuni's mental voice carried indignation. I prefer 'experienced' or perhaps 'distinguished.'

"How long is 'some time'?" Adom asked.

"Zuni is ten years old, in human terms," Professor Elowen said. Adom shrugged.

"Okay, so?" The professor's expression turned gentle.

"Quillicks typically live around twenty human years, Mr. Sylla. While you two can certainly stay together—and I would encourage it, given your remarkable bond—you should understand what that means. When a druid forms a true bond, the eventual separation can be... destabilizing." Twenty years? Zuni's mental voice lost its usual composure. Only twenty? How utterly tragic. I had no idea my life expectancy was so cruelly abbreviated!

Adom felt a pang of something unexpected—not just for Zuni's distress, but at the thought of eventually losing him. It was strange how quickly the small creature had become important to him. But considering everything he'd been through, the idea of avoiding connection because of future loss seemed absurd. And so...

"I don't care," he said firmly.

"I still want to continue our bond." Rather direct, aren't we? Zuni remarked, recovering some of his usual dry tone.

"Life is unpredictable," Adom continued, thinking of his own rebirth and all the impossibilities he'd already witnessed.

"I'm not going to avoid something good just because it might not last forever." He looked directly at Zuni.

"So, what do you say? Want to stick together? Fair warning—my life gets complicated sometimes." My dear friend, Zuni replied, your 'complicated' is my 'entertainingly unpredictable.' I accept your offer. The academy nests are dreadfully drafty anyway. Professor Elowen watched the exchange with visible interest, though she could only hear Adom's side of the conversation.

"How fascinating," she said.

"You've reached an advanced level of druidism in months, Mr. Sylla, yet I didn't sense it as an innate talent in you. It's almost as if..." She trailed off, studying him with renewed curiosity.

"As if?" Adom prompted.

"No," she finished.

"That's a discussion for another time." She smiled, the curiosity replaced by warmth.

"I hope the two of you have many adventures together. May your paths be green and your waters clear." Druidic blessing, Zuni explained. Rather traditional, but she means well.

"Thank you, Professor," Adom said.

"Class is ended," she said, stepping back.

"Take care of each other." As they headed for the door, Zuni pressed his head against Adom's jaw. Twenty years, he mused. I suppose I'd better make them count.

"We both will," Adom promised. As they stepped into the corridor, the sounds of students celebrating the end of term filled the air. A group of third-years were already tossing their notes into the air while younger students dodged around them, heading for the exits. So, Zuni said, settling more comfortably on Adom's shoulder, today is the last day of school. What do you plan to do now that you're free from academic tyranny?

"Well, for one," Adom said casually, "I'll be giving you to Sam right away." Wait, what? Zuni's mental voice spiked with alarm. After that touching scene we just had? Adom burst out laughing, drawing curious glances from passing students. Oh, Zuni huffed, realizing he'd been had. Very amusing. Mocking an elder quillick's emotional vulnerability. How very mature of you. Adom switched to mental communication as they navigated the crowded hallway. There's a lot of danger coming soon.

I have a few things to take care of before the prince's trial tomorrow. Always with the ominous foreshadowing, Zuni replied. And here I thought we might have a normal day for once. But tonight, Adom promised, we feast. Consider it a celebration of our official partnership. I shall require sugar, Zuni declared imperiously. Copious amounts. Those candied peanuts from the market, perhaps. And possibly those little honey cakes from the bakery near the west gate.

Of course, Adom agreed, heading for the academy's main entrance. Nothing but the best for my distinguished companion. Distinguished, Zuni repeated with satisfaction. Yes, I rather like that.