Chương 117: Chapter 42

The bar was as dingy as he remembered. He'd been careful with his approach here, circling and zigzagging to the best of his ability. There weren't any guarantees, but he felt fairly confident no one had tracked him. Alice had wanted him straight back to campus after their community service but had crumbled rather quickly when he expressed his desire to check up on Emily. Ditching Lily hadn't been as hard as he expected; all he had to do was rattle something off about needing space.

Cal's eyes raked over the bar's inhabitants, looking for anyone out of place. He found one, just not who he was expecting. He approached the counter and plopped down on a seat beside the curly-haired man wearing everyday street clothes.

"Lennard." Cal clasped the Federation agent on the shoulder, causing him to freeze.

"Fancy seeing you here. Is there a special occasion?" Cal didn't wait for a response and grabbed the glass in front of the agent, bringing it to his nose and sniffing. There was no scent of alcohol.

"Not that special then. Come on, spill; I don't bite." Some memories flashed through his mind.

"I don't bite humans." Plenty of things tried to take bites of him in the past; he wasn't above returning the favor. Cal retracted his hand from the man, giving him some space. People being scared of him was far from a new thing. Back at the Federation, he tried to be considerate about it and simply ignored them most of the time. If that wasn't practical, well, he tried to act professional. Emphasis on 'tried', results varied.

However, this wasn't the Federation, and a field agent working in the heart of the Empire should really have more of a spine. He slapped Lennard on the back again to check for one. While he did find one, he also prompted a coughing fit. Cal waited patiently for it to clear up while keeping an eye on the room. Olivia wasn't behind the counter, so he wondered if he'd picked a bad day to drop by.

"Was." Lennard pounded on his chest and slowly got himself under control.

"Trying to prevent a repeat." Cal understood what he was getting at. Olivia being taken again would be unideal for a variety of reasons.

"Thanks," Cal said on her behalf. He wasn't sure if she would have said it herself.

"Is it just you?" Lennard looked around the room discreetly before replying.

"Cassey does the most shifts. I'm filling in today." Cal would have preferred her to be here instead; she came off as the more easygoing of the two.

"Pass on my thanks to her as well then."

"Pretty sure that's not why she's doing it," Lennard muttered, and Cal opted not to delve too deep into that statement. He decided to look at the man's presence as a good thing. He was meaning to solicit their group's advice anyway, so this saved time.

"Callum!" A bright voice came from the back.

"I didn't realize you were dropping by today. Making friends I see." Emily strolled up to the counter. Her face was smiling, but Cal didn't buy it for a second.

"Why don't you head to the back; you remember the way?" Cal got up, the rickety stool creaking, and downed whatever was in the glass he'd stolen; it was something fruity.

"Sure thing." He grabbed Lennard's collar and hauled him off the barstool.

"Bringing some company, he's a good listener." The man didn't protest, and soon they were in the back room. Cal was sat on a regular old chair while Lennard had been tossed on the ratty sofa. Cal had one leg propped up on the other and was shaking his foot. Lennard's gaze was unnerving. What did they say about fear? Something about the root of it being a lack of understanding? In that case...

"Got anything you want to ask?" Cal broached the subject somewhat reluctantly.

"I'm apparently chatty today." Lennard's mouth opened for a moment before closing without uttering a sound. His brow scrunched up, and he looked troubled. Whatever debate raged in his head quietly resolved itself and Lennard posed his first question.

"Do you work with them a lot?" It took Cal a second to realize who 'them' referred to. He supposed that made sense; the Constellation were essentially celebrities in the Federation.

"Not as much as you might think." Cal was thankful the question was broad enough for him to pick and choose who he spoke about.

"Tagging along with them is overkill. I do help Millie, erm, I mean Prodigy, with her experiments from time to time." It wasn't like their names were secret, but to the public, they went by their epithets. The practice was meant to make them appear larger than life. Frankly, he didn't think they needed much help in that regard.

"You help her with research!?" Lennard sat straighter, his eyes threatening to leave their sockets.

"I read one of her papers in school. I didn't think anyone was smart enough to work with her." From the fervor of his speech, Cal deduced he'd stumbled on the man's favorite. He also realized how his words could be misconstrued. He thought about letting the statement hang before choosing to clear things up. He didn't want to take credit that wasn't his.

"If you're hoping for some inside scoop or trade secrets, I'm not the guy for it. I don't really help with the math or science side of things." Lennard's face changed from awe to confusion. Cal pointed a thumb at himself.

"You're looking at the best test subject on the continent." Millie had said it so it must have been true. He even had it printed on a mug Mask had gifted him.

"Aren't her tests usually…" Lennard looked to have trouble finishing the sentence so Cal stepped in.

"Incredibly lethal? Sometimes." Like the rocket that was his primary method of transportation to the Waste, Millie tended to forgo safety measures in her experiments. She was still a genius, so more often than not it went fine, but when things went wrong, they went wrong. They were the kind of 'oopsies' that caused the entire facility to be put on lockdown.

"I get roped in because she's incredibly persistent and death is more of a suggestion to me." The major reason he found himself agreeing again and again was because she didn't act out of malice. She was also genuinely regretful whenever something went wrong and apologized profusely each time. That counted for something. There was an uncomfortable silence that followed, and he realized he'd made a slight misstep.

Cal was not a well-known commodity, but that Captain had probably shared some details about their mini vacation to the hells. Cal imagined that he'd just reminded Lennard that the person who sat across him was less of a person and more of a force of nature. He searched his brain for something to talk about, something to make the Constellation members seem more human.

"The First Seat is a germaphobe." It wasn't a piece of trivia he ever thought would be useful.

"Personally, I think that's the real reason his shell is so tough. He's afraid of getting sick." The concept of Aegis existing only because of his fear of germs was amusing to think of. He was known as the Federation's ultimate shield. Unpassable, unmovable, and unyielding.

"Is it true nothing can get past his shell?" Lennard's curiosity looked to beat out any other emotions he might be bubbling up in his head.

"I heard he could stand in front of a category five demon with impunity." Cal roughly thought back on his experiences with the First and demons.

"I don't know about him being invincible, but he can easily let a five whale on him." The category system was rife with flaws, but he had seen what some on that level were capable of.

"I tried way harder than that and couldn't crack it." It was as irritating as it was impressive. Lennard didn't respond, and Cal, once again, realized he'd stuck his foot in his mouth. He was saved from having to find another talking point when Olivia entered. She provided them both terse nods before taking a seat on a free chair.

"Callum, it's good that you are here. We have something important to discuss." He didn't like the tone she was using; it was the type that said her mind was already made up. She turned to Lennard.

"Give us the room." Lennard was halfway off of the couch when Cal interfered.

"He's not going anywhere. I have things to talk about as well, and he needs to be present. Besides, we're all on the same side here." He met her stare of challenge.

"So be it," she assented, and he mentally chalked up another win against her.

"Me first." He spoke before she could continue and, critically, before he could forget again.

"I need money." Cal held a hand out; he was tired of having other people pay for him.

"There's got to be some discretionary funds for this mission, and if not, I should really be getting paid." The look he was given made him feel like he'd said something wrong.

"Callum," Olivia spoke slowly as if carefully choosing her words.

"You are paid." He was? Cal had never seen a check. Granted, he wasn't sure that was how people were even paid.

"Then I'm not getting paid enough; I want a raise." Clearly, it wouldn't have been a lot if he had yet to notice it. There was a pause where the only thing that could be heard was the fan spinning overhead.

"You are one of the best-paid combatants in the Federation." One would be forgiven for thinking that line had caused her physical pain.

"I believe only Prodigy beats you out, and that's if you account for her patents and research budget. How do you not know this?" In his defense, whenever he wanted something, he took it. There was never any money changing hands.

"Do I have an account then?" It was slightly embarrassing to have to ask that.

"How much do I have?" Cal thought for the briefest moment he saw her eye twitch. With stiff movements, Olivia took a napkin out of her pocket. She wrote on it and passed it over to Cal, who inspected the number. There were zeroes, but he didn't have any frame of reference to say if it was good. He gave it to Lennard, who paled on seeing the number.

"That's ridiculous." He seemed to count the numbers again to confirm.

"This trumps some departmental budgets." Olivia exhaled through her nose, conveying what she thought of his apparent financial situation.

"It has to do with your legal status. Due to your age, you couldn't be officially hired. My predecessor worked out a compensation plan for you based on threats killed. I don't think the negotiations anticipated your participation in Beast Waves; those tilt things generously in your direction. Even accounting for your extravagant expenses, your account is healthy."

"What extravagances? I'm pretty low maintenance." Cal liked to think he lived a pretty simple lifestyle. Were they charging him every time he went to the mess hall? He would have been annoyed if that were the case; even if he could apparently afford it, it was the principle of the matter.

"Callum, who do you think paid for the repairs to the stadium you tore up in your last mission?"

"Isn't it the taxpayer?" That was what Albert had told him whenever he needed to get rough with the environment, although he was smirking when he said it…

"In a roundabout way, I suppose that is true." A series of memories played in his head. The stadium had been handled cleanly, all things considered. In the earlier years, when he couldn't rely on his speed as much, things tended to end messier. The bridge had to be the worst one. It was a multi-lane suspension bridge that spanned over one of the larger tributaries of the Great River. He hadn't left much of it, so they would have had to rebuild it from scratch.

A lot of subtle comments made by Albert suddenly made sense in his head. Cal snorted; it was a pretty good prank. Perhaps if money meant anything to him, he'd be upset, but it didn't, so he wasn't.

"Then what? Is it in some bank?" If he ever did decide to leave, he doubted they'd let him take it with him. Although some cash might smooth things over travelwise.

"It was held in a trust. Now that you are at majority, you can access it when we return. Speaking of." There was a shift in her demeanor.

"I've decided it's time for us to pull out. We're going back to the Federation." There was no sign of humor on her. Cal nodded on the surface before giving his actual response.

"Nope." Short and sweet, it got his position across. He wasn't going to leave when he was finally getting somewhere.

"This isn't-""Nope." If she wanted to unilaterally make choices for him, then she couldn't rightly complain when he refused to entertain them.

"Ca-""Not listening." He thought about plugging his ears but didn't want to look that childish.

"Lennard, what are your thoughts on this?" The man looked between them, clearly not pleased to be put in the spotlight.

"Great point," Cal pretended Lennard had answered.

"It would be dumb to leave a job half done." The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"Can I speak now?" Olivia had crossed her arms. He could tell she was not impressed with his antics.

"The risks are too great. The plan was ill-conceived, and we risk too much being here." Cal was reminded of her kidnapping again. Was it any wonder she was getting cold feet? At the time, she seemed to take it well, but that could have been just a front. That didn't mean he was willing to leave things as they were.

"I get that you might be scared, but where did that talk of duty go? I have actual, verifiable intel now." He put his foot down and leaned forward, cupping his hands together and having his arms rest on his legs.

"If a grand summoning happens and I'm not here, well, you know what will happen." There was no reason to rehash the consequences of failure.

"I'm sorry," Lennard, of all people, interjected.

"Did you say grand summoning? Your mission is related to the grand summoning?" Cal had never brought it up, but as agents in the city, he presumed Lennard and company were, or knew about, the team investigating the summoning.

"Yes? What else would I be doing at the Academy?" Lennard shifted uncomfortably under the intensity of both of their gazes.

"It's just that we ruled out the Academy months ago." Cal's eyes shot to Olivia; she had a severe expression on her face. It was a tad scary.

"Explain." Her tone brokered no argument, and Cal was happy to not be at the other end of it.

"We received a missive from command telling us the Academy was off limits. They spoke to their counterparts in the Empire and were assured that nothing of a demonic nature could step foot on campus grounds. They stressed the city is, and always should be, the focus of our efforts. The Captain verified the orders herself. It makes sense; the Academy has wards that survived the Fall." There were plenty of things that could be said after that revelation.

Cal could have commented that the Board was playing games and sending him to the Academy for the wrong reasons. He could have mentioned that at least they hadn't completely made up the summoning. Rather than say any of that, he reached into his pocket and placed a marble on the coffee table between them.

"Does anyone care to tell me what this is?" Poking it with a finger, it rolled noisily across the wooden surface.

"And more importantly, where I got it." A beat passed, then two.

"This is a demon core. Changed somehow." Olivia picked it up and examined it closely.

"This was on campus?"

"Right, so that imperial was either overconfident or a liar. Maybe both; he's noble after all."

"There's no way-" Lennard's words were cut short when the marble was passed to him. He held it gingerly and looked to Cal, who shrugged in response.

"Dead gods." Lennard shook his head, collapsing back on the couch and looking up. A hand rose and massaged his temples.

"Dead gods. This is bad; this is really bad." Maybe from his perspective, but from Cal's, nothing much had changed.

"This doesn't change anything." Olivia, surprisingly, agreed with him.

"We're still leaving." Or not.

"I don't see why we should. That right there proves I'm getting close." He was overplaying the importance of it, but it was a lead.

"Do I need to remind you about that lovely lunch we shared?" It took a second for Cal to realize she was referring to her conversation with Alice. In his mind, he echoed Lennard's previous words. This was bad.

"It's not that bad." Alice had actually downplayed much about what happened, so it was, in fact, worse.

"Are you saying you didn't have a match against the Crown Prince? Or defeat the Academy's third strongest student? Do you understand what the term low profile means?" Damnit Alice, he was reasonably confident that was meant to be her bragging on his behalf. No amount of signals he had sent with his eyes had gotten her to shut up.

"Okay, some of that stuff might have happened, but it's not a big deal. I even smoothed things over with the prince recently."

"The Crown Prince should not even know your name. You were supposed to blend in as a normal student." He was trying his best and maintained much of this could have been avoided had he been properly prepared. That's not to say there wouldn't have been any incidents. He wasn't that naive.

"To most of the student body, I am a normal student." He may have been gossiped about a good deal, but as far as he knew, his strength was known to only a few.

"I'm even in the cooking club. That's totally normal student behavior." It was rarer for students to not have a club pin than the other way around, so he was right about that.

"Cooking…" Olivia dialed back assault and a contemplative look came over her.

"That's an unusual occupation for nobles to be associated with."

"Exactly." Cal sensed a building momentum for him and sought to add to it.

"It's even led by a commoner, so there's no risk of getting involved with more important people." Her eyes snapped in his direction.

"Commoners require someone to sponsor their presence in the Academy, who is theirs?" Rats. Cal averted his eyes and muttered his reply.

"Speak up." She pressed him. He rolled his eyes and threw his hands up before sitting back indignantly.

"Fine, it's the Crown Prince. I meant what I said, though. We're cool; he's not going to cause problems. He even offered-" Cal nearly bit his tongue and wondered how to play this off. He wasn't fast enough, and she hooked her jaws around the meat that was that verbal slip.

"Offered what?" Cal wasn't stupid enough to tell his state-sponsored babysitter he'd essentially been offered an avenue for defection. He wasn't entertaining the idea of joining the Empire but also didn't want to plant any ideas in her head.

"It doesn't matter; that family may be crazy, but they won't be a problem. I promise." That wasn't a promise he expected to be able to keep, as he couldn't reliably predict Rolland. On the bright side, the Third Prince had been fairly quiet recently.

"You said, family." Olivia's dry voice intoned.

"Why did you say family?" Cal opened his mouth, ready to spin another lie. He shut it. It hadn't been working for him thus far, and staying silent was looking like the better option.

"This is precisely the risk I'm talking about. I've put a great deal of thought into this. I want to complete the mission, but if we continue down this path, we could start an international incident. Justified or not, the Empire can utilize your killing of a noble as a call to war. You're attracting too much attention; we can hand off the information you gathered to our colleagues here and let them handle it." Lennard blinked, recovering from the earlier revelation after being addressed.

"No, no. If it's on campus, we'd be working with our hands tied behind our backs. We can't infiltrate it without substantial preparation; I'm amazed they were able to get him in at all. If it's the killing you're worried about, we covered our tracks well. The others have more experience here and are confident nothing will come of it." With the reinforcements, Cal jumped back into the fray.

"Lennard's right, the Justiciars on campus have barely talked to me." He kept it minimal, sticking to the facts and not his rampant speculation.

"They're already on campus!" Lennard said in an alarmed manner.

"They were not meant to move that quickly." These reinforcements sucked.

"All the more reason to pull out. Once we're back, we can use your contacts to back channel and alert the wider Empire. If we spread it wide enough, the city and campus can be forced to evacuate until the threat is passed. It will have an unpredictable effect on our relations, but between that and all those lives, it's an easy decision." Cal had no idea what contacts he had that could achieve that. If he were to be honest with himself, as far as options went, it wasn't a bad one. He mulled over it.

There were no guarantees they'd listen.

"No. We're staying." At the end of the day, Cal didn't like the idea of leaving this to other people.

"I am your superior. This is my decision; respect it." There was a finality in her voice, like she expected that to be the end of it. He wasn't that easy to convince.

"Superior huh?" If what she said was to be believed, the kidnapping itself wasn't factoring into her decision. In that case, he had some room to maneuver.

"Everyone who didn't get kidnapped by the minion of a two-bit noble, please raise your hands." Cal raised his own and then continued when he saw the reluctance of the other person not named Olivia in the room.

"Lennard, that means you." Her eyes narrowed in his direction, and Cal took note of how Lennard did not join him in solidarity.

"The Whistling Death was not, how you put it, a minion. He was a feared mercenary known across multiple countries. I can't have reasonably been expected to fight off his ambush." It sounded like an excuse to him.

"Dude was a punk, you tell her." He looked to Lennard, deciding to give him a chance at redemption.

"I'm actually on her side. I wouldn't have stood a chance against him; he could have wiped out my entire team. I don't want to get more in the middle of this than I already am, but isn't she your handler?" The implication was that he should be listening to her. It was official; Lennard was persona non grata to Cal.

"I do what I want." Not as often as he'd liked, but he was on the backfoot here and not going to admit to weakness.

"While we're on the topic of the dead guy, someone in the know suggested we hire him to pretend to be Petro's killer. Good thing we kept the cloak, right?" He kept the headmaster's identity out of it. Cal hadn't planned on bringing it up, but at this point, he was simply trying to muddy the waters as much as possible.

"That would not work. Unless you can match his magical signature, the ruse would be seen through and only invite greater suspicion." Olivia was quick to shoot it down, but he was relieved she'd taken the bait at all. Lennard raised a hand as if he were in class. He realized what he was doing and quickly put it down. Cal waved a hand, urging him to get on with it. When that didn't work, he kicked the sofa.

"He wasn't known for leaving witnesses. I'm sure he dealt with nobles, but they wouldn't be jumping to identify him, and neither would the criminals he worked with. Not to mention, most of them wouldn't be skilled enough to identify him based on a signature."

"He was a member of Infinita Nox." Olivia mentioned that edgy name again.

"The reports I read indicate they use covenants to keep a roster of members. They would have realized he was dead."

"Don't be so quick to assume that. He was a member of the Blessed Order; I find it hard to believe he didn't learn how to break a covenant. And even if they say it's an imposter, would the Justiciars believe them?" There were other ways to break them aside from overpowering the other party? The more you knew...

"There are too many 'ifs' at play. You're overstepping your position here." That Olivia pulled rank gave Cal pause; was there merit to this idea?

"What's that Nox group?" He decided to get that cleared up first. Olivia hesitated, and he raised an eyebrow in response. Was there something she didn't want him to know?

"Infinita Nox is a loose collection of for-hire criminals with no ties to any country. They operate under the same banner but do so out of convenience; they hold no loyalty to one another." So contractors working for the highest bidder? Neat.

"It's not a viable plan. He was a rather advanced practitioner of sound manifestations. We shoul-" Cal snapped his fingers, and all sound died. She frowned at him, and he snapped them again, his point made.

"That wasn't in your file." There were lots of things not in there.

"We're straying. In order for this to work at all, you'd need to show yourself to someone the Justiciars would believe and then do something to prove your identity. Can you project a condensed stream of sound to pierce your opponent?" He suspected she somehow knew the answer to that, which was no.

"I can do it with wind; who's going to tell the difference?" In the heat of the moment, he doubted anyone would be able to differentiate the two.

"The sound is what people remember. It's very distinctive; that's what earned him the moniker." He tried to remember what it sounded like; maybe he shouldn't have killed the guy so quickly.

"Respectfully, ma'am," Lennard returned with a more formal voice. Presumably to make up for his interjection.

"All he would have to do is whistle for real to achieve similar results." That was a simple solution. There was one itsy-bitsy problem. Cal couldn't whistle.