Chương 147: Chapter 144. Weird

The ceremony broke up in a rising tide of scraping chairs and overlapping conversation, the students filing out in clumps while the staff lingered on the dais to talk shop until someone had the courage to leave first. Adom did his part. He shook the hands he was meant to shake, accepted the welcomes, returned the names. Most of the faces he knew.

A few he didn't — the newer hires from the years since he'd been a student, who shook his hand a touch too carefully, as though not certain whether they were greeting a colleague or a celebrity, and landing somewhere uncomfortable in between. A few faces he'd expected weren't there at all. Mirwen had retired over the summer, he learned, finally; the alchemy benches had gone to someone younger whose name Adom filed away to look up later.

Kim was gone too, but still worked closely with Adom on other projects outside of the academy. And Coach Viriam — Xerkes' beloved Krozball coach — had finally hung up his whistle the previous spring. He was travelling the world now, by all accounts, and gone properly famous in the process; the broadsheets had him as a top contender for the presidency of the WKA, also known as World Krozball Association, which was no small thing at all. Crowley he already knew he'd be seeing plenty of.

Thornheart had given him a single sharp once-over and a "try not to end up in my infirmary too often this time, Professor," and the rest he figured he'd sort out over the term.

Eventually the dais thinned enough that leaving stopped being rude and started being possible, and Adom began the careful work of extracting himself — a nod here, a good to see you, we'll talk properly soon there, drifting by degrees toward the side door and the corridor beyond, where there was a real chance of getting out of the building before the bulk of the student body finished congregating in the courtyard to watch the new Magus go by. He'd nearly made it he heard a "Hey," followed by " Professor Sylla."

said in the most sarcastic tone known to man. Adom stopped and turned, finding Eren leaning against the wall just inside the side corridor, arms crossed, having clearly anticipated the exact route a person would take if that person were trying to leave without being seen. The expression on his face was unmistakably amusement.

"That's me," Adom said, resigned.

"You were sneaking out?"

"I was leaving with dignity."

"You were sneaking out." Eren pushed off the wall and fell into step beside him, the two of them moving down the side corridor at a brisk pace.

"I watched you do the whole circuit. Handshake, handshake, slow drift toward the exit. It was very smooth. I only noticed because I know what you look like when you're trying to escape something."

"And yet you intercepted me anyway."

"I'm the only one allowed to." Adom let that go with a snort, because it was more or less true.

"So. How are you holding up with all this?"

"With what?"

"This." Adom gestured vaguely upward, at the dais, the title, the whole arrangement.

"Me being—""My professor?" Eren shrugged.

"It's fine. Weird, but fine."

"Weird how?"

"Weird like I keep waiting for it to bother me and it won't." He turned a hand over, looking for the shape of it.

"You're up on the dais with Crowley, I'm down in the rows getting told to review for Thursday, and it should feel strange, and it does, but only for a second. Then it's just you again." He shrugged a second time.

"Also you're younger than me, which I will be raising at every opportunity." Adom laughed.

"You're just two months older."

"Two months is two months." They turned the corner toward the rear doors, the ones that let out near the old training grounds rather than the courtyard, and Adom felt the day starting to loosen its grip on him.

"I'll see you and the others tonight," he said.

"The usual spot. You, Sam, Karion — pull Damus along, he'll say he's busy and he isn't." That got a chuckle out of Eren.

"I'll get him there."

"Good. There's someone I want to bring. I'd like you all to meet him." Eren's steps slowed half a beat.

"... Wait. Are you… did you get a…" They locked eyes, and from Eren's expression alone, Adom understood exactly what he was thinking and corrected him before the thought could become a rumor.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no."

"... Oh." The eyebrows came down as the dawning excitement folded back up and put itself away.

"Right. No. Obviously." He said obviously like it was the most natural thing in the world that Adom would not have met someone, could not have met someone, that the very idea had been foolish the instant he'd entertained it. So Adom stopped walking, slightly offended.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Eren was already drifting toward the doors.

"It's just, ah, you. With a person. For a second there I thought—" He shook his head, grinning now.

"No, it makes sense. Forget I said anything."

"What makes sense? Finish the thought." Eren raised both hands, the picture of innocence, already backing toward the doors with a small grin.

"I didn't say anything. I'll see you tonight, Professor." He vanished through the rear doors and Adom stood there a moment longer, then heard a small gasp from down the corridor. So, naturally, he looked over. A group of first years had stopped near the far corner, staring at him with wide eyes and whispering among themselves. One of them even looked like she was trying to convince the others to come over. Ah. No. Adom knew how this went.

One student came over, then three more realized they were allowed to, and within minutes he would be surrounded by people asking for signatures, advice, handshakes, stories, and whatever else their nerves managed to produce. Then leaving would become rude, and somehow he would lose half his afternoon to being polite. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. He had plans.

So Adom gave the first years a small, apologetic smile, wove [Invisibility] around himself, and disappeared. The whispers stopped at once as he pushed the rear door open with a thread of wind, slipped outside, and closed it behind him before anyone thought to check. Then he wove [Flight], rose above the training yard, and took off toward the city, where today, he had a matter to solve for the creation of his new Guild.

The city sprawled beneath him as he flew, and Adom found himself having to navigate more carefully than he remembered. New construction had sprouted up everywhere in the past few years: towers and apartment buildings that hadn't existed during his student days. The skyline was denser now, more cluttered. He had to pull up sharply to avoid a particularly ambitious clocktower that some architect had decided needed to be exactly where his usual flight path used to go. Progress, he supposed.

Though it made getting around by air considerably more annoying. The financial district came into view, all gleaming stone and brass fixtures that caught the late afternoon sun. He descended in a controlled spiral, landing smoothly on the wide cobblestone plaza in front of his destination. The Goldleaf Mint. The building stood before him like a fortress designed by someone with excellent taste and unlimited funding.

Its facade was all polished marble and intricate metalwork, with security enchantments humming so loudly in the magical spectrum that even a non-mage could hear them. The building had only been completed two years ago, but it had already established itself as the premier financial institution in the city. Probably had something to do with the lutins running the place. Adom put on his pointy hat and pulled his robes more securely around himself.

The traditional mage outfit was excellent camouflage: generic enough that people tended to look past the wearer rather than at them. Just another mage conducting business. The two orc guards flanking the massive brass doors were impressive specimens; broad-shouldered and alert, their tusks gleaming as they scanned the plaza. Their armor was impeccably crafted, all polished plates and joints that somehow made them look more like elite security than simple muscle.

Lutins had a reputation for being absolutely incorruptible when it came to money. Something about their dual nature—part fae, part mortal—made them physiologically incapable of financial dishonesty. They could step between the mortal realm and the fae courts at will, existing in both worlds simultaneously. Their tall, lean frames and angular features, combined with the subtle shimmer of their skin and those ancient, intelligent eyes, made them uniquely suited for managing wealth across multiple planes of existence.

They were also reportedly the most secure banking option available, which was exactly what Adom needed. The whole adventurer guild situation was getting complicated. Technically, he could continue operating as an independent contractor, but the profit margins were terrible. Most guilds took thirty percent of whatever resources their members acquired during dungeon raids. Then there were equipment rental fees, processing charges, administrative costs, and a dozen other little expenses that added up fast.

It was designed to keep individual adventurers dependent on the guild structure. Which was fine if you were just starting out and needed the support network. Less fine if you were planning to make serious money from high-level dungeon expeditions. Starting his own guild and affiliating it directly with Wangara made much more sense. He could manage his own resources, set his own policies, and keep the profits where they belonged.

Cass had been enthusiastic about the idea when he'd floated it past her, probably because it meant Wangara would have direct access to whatever he pulled out of the more dangerous dungeons. Speaking of Cass, he really needed to pay her a visit soon. And Valiant, and Bob, and Kern and Filli. So many people to catch up with, so many relationships to maintain... Adom sighed and stepped toward the imposing entrance.

A small figure suddenly collided with his side, sending books and papers scattering across the cobblestones. An elderly woman stumbled, her cane clattering away as she lost her balance. Adom's reflexes kicked in automatically. He caught her arm, steadying her, while simultaneously casting a gentle retrieval spell to gather her scattered belongings. The books and papers floated back into a neat stack in his free hand.

"Oh my," the woman said, breathing heavily as she regained her footing.

"I'm so sorry, young man. These old eyes aren't what they used to be."

"No harm done," Adom said, handing her back her things and retrieving her cane.

"Are you hurt?" She smiled at him, her face crinkling with warmth.

"Not at all, thanks to you. Such a kind young mage. Your parents raised you well."

"I'm glad you're alright."

"As am I." She patted his arm gently, then glanced up at the imposing bank entrance.

"Actually, I was heading in there myself. Need to open an account for my grandson—the boy's finally old enough to handle his own finances, though heaven knows if he's responsible enough." She chuckled and started toward the doors.

"Would you mind terribly if this old woman walked in with you? These steps look rather intimidating." Adom fell into step beside her.

"Of course." The orc guards hadn't moved during the entire exchange, but he could feel their attention on both of them as they approached the entrance together. Time to get this done. He held open the heavy brass doors for the elderly woman, then followed her inside. Stepping through the doors was like walking into an entirely different world. The interior looked like a forest. Not metaphorically—literally.

Ancient oak trees stretched toward a ceiling that seemed impossibly high, their branches intertwining overhead to form a natural canopy. Soft moss covered the ground in patches between perfectly manicured pathways, and the sound of flowing water came from a cascade somewhere deeper in the space. The air smelled of pine and wildflowers. But it was also unmistakably a bank. Comfortable chairs were arranged in conversational clusters around the base of the larger trees.

The temperature was perfectly regulated despite the outdoor atmosphere. Discreet magical lighting provided warm illumination even in the shadowed areas. And there were butterflies everywhere. Except they weren't butterflies. They were pixies, about the size of Adom's thumb, with gossamer wings that caught the light as they fluttered between customers. One of them immediately approached the elderly woman beside him.

"Welcome to Goldleaf Mint!" the pixie chirped in a voice like tiny bells.

"How may we assist you today?"

"I need to open an account for my grandson," the woman said.

"The boy's just turned sixteen."

"Wonderful! Right this way, please." The pixie guided her toward a section of the forest where Adom could see other customers seated at what looked like naturally formed clearings. Another pixie zipped over to Adom, hovering at eye level with wings that shifted color as they moved.

"And you, sir? What brings you to our establishment today?"

"I'm here to open an account for an adventurer guild." The pixie's expression brightened.

"Excellent! We've been seeing more and more adventuring guilds lately. Very exciting business. Follow me, please." As they moved deeper into the forest-bank, Adom could feel the spatial magic humming around them. The place existed partially in the fae realm and partially in the mortal world—a clever bit of magic engineering that would allow the lutins to vanish into the fae courts with all their assets if anything ever went seriously wrong. Only the non-fae would be left behind. Which was exactly why Adom was here.

Having a merchant guild affiliation with the Wangara was useful for normal business, but this bank offered something more valuable: direct access to the fae realm. There had been problems over there recently. Problems that required adventurers to solve them. Problems that occasionally put those adventurers in direct contact with fae nobility. Bob had been frustratingly unhelpful on that front. Something about being a normal subject with no special privileges. But adventurers were different.

Adventurers got missions from the fae king himself sometimes. Rarely, but it happened. And if Adom could manage to rally the fae realm to his cause, they could prevent a lot of future disasters. Including the fae realm's own eventual doom. The pixie led him to a section where the trees formed a natural alcove. A desk had grown directly from the forest floor—or been shaped to look like it had—and behind it sat a lutin. Tall and elegant, with the sharp cheekbones and pointed ears that marked his heritage.

His skin had that subtle shimmer that meant he could step between realms at will, and his eyes held depths that suggested he'd seen far more than his apparently youthful face would indicate. He was dressed in what looked like formal business attire, but the fabric seemed to shift slightly in the light. When he looked up from his paperwork, his smile was genuinely welcoming.

"Hello there," he said.