Chương 116: Chapter 113

This time there was no stroll, no sightseeing, or meandering. With as much decorum as they could scrape together, they'd bolted out of the kitchen, attempting to catch Mia before she could do something Mia. What did that mean? Cal had a couple of theories, and he was trying to make sure none of them were put to the test.

"Did you sense her?" Olivia said between breaths, back pressed against the wall as she recovered from their mad dash.

"I was preoccupied." It hadn't been a full sprint on his part, but he couldn't say the same for Olivia. Her augmentation was barely up to the task, and he dearly hoped neither of them had been spotted along the way.

"That's harder than you might think," Cal admitted.

"She's slippery." Cal didn't actually know Mia's signature. In terms of magic, he'd only ever seen her use the hair clip, and that accessory didn't give him a lot to go on. If that didn't make things difficult enough, Mia had a tendency to use the tunnels under campus for travel. With their odd nature, Cal really wasn't sure whether they'd passed her or not.

"I hope you're aware of how absurd that sounds coming from you," Olivia responded dryly, tugging on her blouse.

"Are we clear?" True to her word, Olivia had found out where Basem was holed up. While the student body treated the rumors of his arrival as an entertaining diversion, the staff had an entirely different perspective. Shira's reputation for wealth had sent imaginations running wild. For some, it made retirement appear a single generous tip away. With that type of prize dangling before them, the workers in the know weren't keen on sharing their knowledge.

That hadn't stopped the Federation agent from finding it out, and he'd rather not know how she accomplished that.

"From what I can tell, but the entire place is warded," he said, feeling their presence woven within every surface.

"They're better than the ones in our dorms. Not that it makes a huge difference." His best move for dealing with wards remained violent deconstruction. He could likely still work his way through them, but he didn't see the point in wasting his time with it. Knocking on the door seemed to be the easier solution.

"They wouldn't have housed him here without them," she said, staying in her position against the wall.

"Can you check the corner?" She'd been acting uptight ever since they'd infiltrated this building. Apparently, the campus had sections dedicated to visitors staying overnight. If Cal had known that, he would have assumed that's where they'd stuck Basem. He would have been wrong. Instead, the diplomat was staying in one of the faculty buildings. They'd cleared out three floors for him, and getting up here had been easier than it should have been. Cal's entry point was a terrace on the third floor.

He'd leaped to it without issue, and was thankful that the cafe it housed was currently closed. Fiddling with the lock leading indoors, he managed to get it open as Olivia clambered over the stone railing. She had been noticeably less enthused by their entryway and the alleged slapdash manner in which he tackled the rest of the floors. Keeping with the theme, Cal didn't cautiously poke his head around the corner, rounding it casually with his hands in his pockets.

The hall was remarkably similar to the ones from his dorm. There was a rich red carpet under his feet, and chandeliers above his head. The lower half of the walls was covered with dark-wood paneling, and the rest white plaster. There was some discoloration on the plaster, indicating paintings had been recently swapped out. The current fare depicted inoffensive scenery, and he guessed the previous ones had been a tad more controversial.

"Total ghost town," he confirmed, keeping the magic running through his body out of vigilance. He may have appeared laid-back, but if there had been someone lurking behind the corner, he would have instantly retreated out of sight.

"I suppose it's time to find out if she took my joke seriously or not." Olivia shot him a sharp look, evidently not convinced it had been a joke. It was a reasonable amount of suspicion to have. His senses were top-notch, and escaping from them was a difficult proposition. To let a girl with no martial ability get away from him, he had to be complicit, right? No. In actuality, all that was required to blind a person who could trade blows with a Hand was a cutting board and unprocessed produce.

Wait, that wasn't fair. A professional chef to compare against was also needed. Cal hadn't even gotten their name…

"What's your plan with him?" Olivia asked, reminding him he had more pressing concerns than the name of a worthy adversary.

"As a prospective heir of a state, he'll dissect any information you give him—intentional or not." There might have been an implication there, but if there was, it was hidden enough to pretend it didn't exist.

"To use my natural charm and have him spill his guts," Cal said, projecting more confidence than he had. That was the type of line he would have fed to the PR department, which Olivia had the honor of standing in for. His actual plan was difficult to put into words given its fluid nature.

"Please do not improvise a meeting with, and I apologize for reiterating this, a future head of state." She didn't sound very sorry.

"And I cannot believe this is something I have to say," she continued, raising a hand to push her frizzy hair out of her face. It had been thrown into disarray during their run.

"Try not to disembowel them either." Where did she—oh. Hadn't he used that one around her before? Maybe she didn't want to take any chances given his track record.

"I won't go above a broken nose," he said, walking down the length of the hall.

"But I make no promises on emotional damage." It wouldn't have killed him to be a tad more serious, and as he approached the end of the hall, he worked on getting in that mindset. Contrary to what he claimed earlier, this would not be a one sided affair where he unilaterally made demands. He was going to use a far lighter touch than that.

"Are you certain you don't want me to handle this?" she appealed.

"You would have to brief—" Cal shook his head dismissively. Not only did he already have a rapport with Basem, but that would require him filling her in on the full scope of his objectives. Suffice it to say, he wasn't doing that.

"I have his measure, and leverage," he said definitively.

"Just don't freak out if I say anything odd. There's a method to the madness." She sent him a very skeptical look that he ignored in favor of the upcoming door. His eyes glossed over its gilded surface, accustomed to that sort of ostentatiousness. There was a door knocker he could try, but before that, he reached for the knob. It twisted open without resistance, and he was immediately blasted by a frigid air. It seeped past his skin, but wasn't oppressive enough to reach his bones.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Without delay, Cal crossed the threshold and entered into a new domain. The first thought he had was 'bright.' From floor to ceiling, it looked like every part of the room had a silvery sheen, reflecting the sun's rays that peeked at them beyond the expansive windows. The second thought he had was 'water damage.' Nearly every surface was frosted over, and while it was aesthetically pleasing, it would cause serious damage to the room once thawed.

The saving grace was the inbuilt drainage system. Canals had been carved into the floor, fed by water cascading down a rock formation on the western end. It stood taller than Cal, and didn't look to be something Basem had added. The streams divided the room, creating mini-islands. On the centermost was a familiar girl. Cal's third thought was 'damnit, Mia.'

"Young friend!" Basem's boisterous voice greeted.

"I was beginning to doubt if you would come visit me." The Adjunctor wore fresh robes, but of the same style as before. Silky and loose, the biggest change was that his head was now cleanly shaven, removing the short fuzz he had on top before. One island over from Mia, he stood upon a block of ice, arms held wide in greeting. A bowl of ice was before him, its purpose unclear. Cal was, frankly, more concerned with the girl seated at the banquet table.

It was more long than wide, with icicles hanging off the table cloth and dinnerware evenly placed. The plates were empty save for one that looked to have a serving platter's worth of tiny cakes dumped onto it.

"I'm sure we both needed time to recover from our trip," Cal politely responded before turning his eyes to Mia.

"I see you two have become acquainted." Basem followed his line of sight, a peculiar expression falling over him. Mia kept her unblinking eyes on the ice mage.

"Acquainted, yes," Basem said dubiously, inspecting the oddity that was Mia.

"That would be one way to put it. She appeared in my humble quarters with nought to say and helped herself to my mid-morning refreshment. Had I not known she was with you, I might have been disturbed." If Cal understood that right, Mia walked in here, stole the man's food, leveled her fighting face, and refused to elaborate. It occurred to him that her knowledge of bullying might be unreliable. He decided this was a good thing. Although, there was one piece of what Basem said that bugged him.

"With me?" He questioned, wondering if Mia hadn't been as quiet as he assumed. It didn't seem like Basem knew of Mia's status, and if she wasn't going to point it out, Cal wasn't going to either.

"She is wearing your house emblem," the man said with a raised brow.

"And I believe part of your uniform. Is this a new custom of barbarians?" Cal's eyes traced to his jacket resting on Mia's shoulders, hoping she had kept to her usual routine of going unnoticed.

"It is not," Cal supplied, cresting the small stream and joining her island. He walked up behind her, ready to retrieve his property. But… wasn't it cold in here? It would be wrong to deprive her of an extra layer. That Olivia's blouse was far less suited for the weather than Mia's uniform was conveniently lost on him. If she really had a problem, she could wait outside instead of watching silently from a corner.

"That said, why follow traditions when you can make them," he finished, hoping that didn't sound as lame as he thought. Basem smiled widely, nodding his head emphatically.

"I could not agree more, young friend," he said with a short laugh.

"Though I do wonder if this one is planning to eat any of the delicacies on her plate." Mia, in direct opposition to the man addressing her, opened her book and began reading at the table. Cal didn't know of any culture where that wouldn't be considered rude, and it appeared Shirai's was no different, with Basem's smile losing some of its luster.

"She just had a big breakfast," Cal blatantly lied.

"And reading helps with her appetite." For all he knew, that last bit might have been true.

"I would have thought the effort to sneak past me would spawn the mightiest of hungers," the man said in a grand voice before shifting to a lighter, quicker tone.

"Yet I can see it does not. The Empire has hidden depths, wouldn't you agree?" It took a second for Cal to catch on, and when he did, he found it slightly amusing that Basem thought Mia was some mystery heavyweight. He was technically correct, but not in the right way.

"You could say that," he responded, wondering what Mia thought of this.

"Are these hidden depths the reason you're making a bomb?" Basem remained perched on his platform, standing over a bowl of ice larger than an oven. The magic condensed inside it had only grown since they started talking, and if it was an explosive, now was about the time Cal would start getting worried.

"A bomb? I'd think not!" Basem rejected enthusiastically, caressing the rim with one hand before giving it a push.

"This is but a pale imitation, but gaze upon the splendor of my home." The bowl trembled before leaving the ground, floating toward them. It spun like a top, but a leisurely one, crossing the distance at its own pace. Cal intercepted it before it could get too near, probing it with his magic. He realized two things: One: it wasn't a bomb; two, it wasn't a bowl. While the general shape was correct, it was unmistakably a city, and a dense one at that.

At its core was a ziggurat—tall and imposing with each terrace stretching out to house entire districts. Five spindly towers flanked it, their pointed heads just barely coming short of the temple's peak. Between and beyond those structures was a maze of smaller towers, some standing alone, others connected at the strangest of places. All fell under the shadow of the massive walls that encapsulated the city, curving inward to better protect it.

"I took artistic liberty in depicting her bulwark," Basem explained as the walls began to glow. Images flowed beneath the ice, as if beasts were swimming within its depths.

"Enlarging their physical size to match their historical significance." That piqued Cal's interest, and Basem seemed more than obliged to continue.

"Let Anis have her hallowed oasis, Edin her guardians, and Tubern her forges. We of Shirai have our own wonder." Mist seeped from the walls, conjuring amorphous specters. They collapsed as soon as they were formed, creating an eerie veil that concealed the city. Even though it was just a replica, Cal had a sense these were not the same type of walls that protected the Academy. He surmised they were of similar origins, but born of different visions and builders.

"I'll have to see it one day," Cal said, sharpening his vision. Basem, through skill and time, had added a startling level of detail. There were thousands upon thousands of figurines on the streets, each a tiny bit different than the last. The windows weren't mere decorations either, but portals in which he could see interior living spaces.

"There will be no better time than the Conference," Basem replied.

"Its spectacle will have no rival. This I guarantee." Mia turned the next page a bit too forcefully. He couldn't see any damage done, but she still smoothed it out with her hand.

"Dangerous," Mia said, repeating what was quickly becoming her favorite word. She was simultaneously right and wrong. The Conference was absolutely dangerous. Any meeting of world powers would be. However, the danger wasn't a secret, and the Free City hosts had never failed in their security. Privately, Cal knew Oracle and Mask had also contributed.

"The Titan of Shirai would crush any who dare break the peace," Basem said, losing his cheer as he spoke of his mentor, the City Lord.

"And who would?" Cal asked, trying his best not to sound too eager.

"Break the peace, that is." The Conference wasn't his concern, but the enemies of Shirai, and Basem, were.

"That, young friend, is rather uncouth," Basem said, purple framed eyes regarding him with intrigue.

"Why would you ask that? Moreover, why should I reply?" Cal was hoping he'd take the chance to throw his enemies under the bus, but perhaps that was wishful thinking. It was a good thing he'd prepared an excuse anyway. Less good was Mia somehow beating him to the punch. Again.

"Tell," she said, pointing at the miniature city.

"Or it breaks." Basem looked torn between being amused and offended by the threat. Cal took it with the severity it warranted.

"I strongly recommend the tell," Cal said, altering his angle so that he could react to any move she made.

"But if you want more of an incentive, this relates to the favor you owe me." The Adjunctor lost all interest in Mia, zeroing in on Cal. His posture turned guarded, waiting for the younger man to continue.

"I'd like House Ardere to have exclusive trade rights with Shirai," he said, marveling at how a frozen room could still freeze over.

"I understand it will cause a slight uproar, and I need to know who would want to harm Shirai, or yourself for agreeing to such a proposal." Alice had told him about her dream to cut out House Procellae, and here he was talking about it without her. It felt wrong. Worse still, he was using it as a cover to conceal his other motives. However, to secure House Ardere's future, Cal was willing to go far. Farther than he would want her to see.

She could handle the nitty gritty—all he needed was to get a tentative agreement. A smaller part of him felt guilty for springing this on Olivia, but her being in the room was a gesture of goodwill to begin with.

"Is this what passes for barbarian humor?" Basem asked, shaking his head ruefully.

"I do not see the appeal. I would counsel the young friend to reconsider what—" A screeching chair cut him off. Mia stood up, hands braced on the table. She held that position for a second, and Cal noticed how the miniature city began to float back to Basem's side.

"House business is private," she said, reciting a rule he'd heard many times before. Mia removed his jacket, handing it over to Cal, who took it with some amount of confusion. She didn't seem to care, walking past him and towards the exit. As she crossed Basem's path, she stopped, holding the man's stare before tugging at her sleeve. Basem's eyes grew as he caught sight of her shoulder, where a house emblem that Cal swore wasn't always there sat. It was not House Ardere's.

Message sent, the woman walked past, leaving a cold and potentially panicking Olivia in her wake. As the door shut behind her, one voice spoke.

"It seems I've stumbled onto a proper coup," Basem said, nodding like this was normal development.

"How interesting." Damnit, Mia.