Chương 20: Chapter 19

Ryan grunted in exertion as careful steps took him up the staircase. His grip on the box shifted slightly as he balanced it with the others stacked precariously on top.

"We could have taken more trips. You didn't have to carry them all in one go." Jess tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for him at the top of the staircase with her arms crossed.

"That basement creeps me out. I'm not going in there any more than I have to." Ryan had been drafted to assist with pulling out the fashion club's gear from storage.

"Is my big, strong man scared of some dolls?" She teased with a smile. Anyone who visited that place knew that 'some' was a vast understatement. There were hundreds of those things down there. The club used them to model designs before moving on to full mannequins. No one ever wanted to get rid of their work, so they just left them down there to collect dust. He swore some of their eyes even tracked him. Not that he'd admit as much. He crested the top step, turning to look at her as he passed.

"And my big, strong woman could help carry some of this stuff."

"You're lucky you are carrying that," she said sharply. He was certain she had been contemplating stepping on his foot just then.

"Now hurry up; lunch period is only so long, and that stuff isn't that heavy for you." She walked in front of him again, leading him towards the club room. She was right; balancing the tower may be tricky, but the weight itself was well within his capabilities. A mischievous thought crossed his mind, and his next step ended up short. He gave a yell of surprise as he stumbled forward, the boxes beginning to tumble down. He caught them, of course. He wasn't that crazy.

"Not funny," she called out, further ahead of him now, not having bothered to pause her step or even spare him a glance.

"That's all imported, so you better hope you don't actually drop any of it."

"My dear, I fear your disappointment greater than any failure the world may thrust on me," he said theatrically, imitating a line from a character in her favorite play.

"Dork." That was the sound of someone blushing and him scoring points. They reached the room, and she held the door open for him as he walked through and settled the boxes on the floor. Charitably speaking, the room was a mess. Boxes and fabric strewn about everywhere. That was to be expected this early in the year. All the clubs were frantically trying to get their bearings before recruitment started. He heard a thump and turned to find Jess had started unpacking one of the boxes he'd carried.

"When you said imported," he said with a frown.

"I didn't think you meant I was hauling anything snake made."

"I'm not sure what you are referring to," Jess replied while placing the device over some loose papers occupying a desk.

"We purchased these through Edin merchants."

"Uh-huh." He walked over and lifted another of the devices out of the box. Flipping it revealed a section had been shaved down.

"Jeez, I wonder what used to be there." There'd been an embargo between the Empire and Federation since before he was born. For as long as he could remember, Free City merchants were happy to blatantly violate it. He gently placed the object on the desk and backed away.

"Stop being so dramatic." Jess rolled her eyes and grabbed another of the devices, dropping it on the table to his wince.

"It's a sewing machine, not a bomb."

"You sure about that?" Ryan said testily.

"They can be creative when making weapons." He wasn't slated to go into the family business. That didn't mean they shut him out, and he had seen far too many examples of seemingly innocuous items having alternative uses.

"Really? You know this uniform I look so cute in?" She popped out her hip and placed a hand on it.

"Don't you think the design looks a tad familiar? I know you're not complaining."

"That's different," he muttered, taking a seat on a different table.

"How so? I got them straight from the magazines you procured for me." She stalked up to him.

"Were those weapons? Did you check them for poison before handing them off?" Her face leaned into his and then pulled back abruptly.

"Ancestors! You did, didn't you?!?!"

"Technically, my family did it for me." He defended himself without shame.

"It's a standard precaution; you can't put anything past them."

"Our parents hardly knew the last war, and the borders have been quiet since then." She went back to unpacking the various boxes.

"Those times are past us."

"Are you sure about that?" His question made her pause. He glanced at the closed door; he was treading dangerous waters here.

"You received another letter from your brother then?" She sighed but continued her work.

"Have they discovered anything new?" This was confidential information, and he shouldn't be telling her. Strictly speaking, he wasn't meant to know it either. He did though, and if there was anyone in the world he could tell it to, it would be Jess.

"We still don't know what type of weapon they were testing. Whatever it was worked. A little too well, in fact. It destroyed the facility where it was being tested and woke up the rest of their military. It's unclear what happened after, but multiple members of the Constellation may have been involved in the cleanup." She paled, and her breathing fell out of rhythm. He fell silent.

"Continue." She demanded with a quiver in her voice.

"Vows we may have yet to give; however we share burdens all the same." Something panged in his chest. The feeling left as quickly as it arrived, and he continued with his explanation.

"There's a shakeup in their leadership. High-level positions are being quietly replaced. If that wasn't enough, there are rumblings along the border. Signs point to them mobilizing, even if they've gone to great lengths to hide them." Reading between the lines, they were moving to a war footing.

"Is purging leadership a precursor to war? I would have thought they'd wish to avoid the instability it brings."

"Isolated it wouldn't be, but with the mobilization, it's pretty clear they're getting rid of people not on board with this insanity." It was the conclusion he'd come to, and his brother confirmed their family reached the same.

"Had it been another delivering this news, I would refuse to believe it. I was under the impression relations had been normalizing."

"From what I knew, they were." His family always encouraged an inquisitive mindset. Questioning things was par for the course in their household. So he knew the valiant stories their history books painted had trouble reconciling with reality. Rarely did the Federation initiate hostilities. That they did now was a bad omen. She stood up, straightening out her uniform from when it had gotten wrinkled while crouched.

"You said multiple. Which ones?" She whispered the question; the mention of that group was considered a slight taboo.

"Oracle and Aegis, maybe more."

"I'm not sure why I even asked." Her head shook slowly.

"It makes little difference which of them was involved." He understood her meaning. A monster was a monster; it didn't matter what type it was. The fact that two of them were needed for anything...

"There's only five of them." His words rushed out.

"Don't forget we have the Right and Left Hands of the Emperor. With them and all the Fingers, the Constellation won't be a threat." He lied through his teeth.

"Here I was looking to share your troubles, and you end up comforting me instead. A poor wife I will make." She commented bitterly and walked over to the window. Placing a hand on it and looking out longingly.

"I don't want this to end." That pang hit him again. He didn't dwell on it. Too distracted with capturing the moment. A soft click was heard, and her golden hair whipped out, impacting the window.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself." She eyed his phone, and her posture relaxed.

"I suppose my preference is for you to take photos of me rather than other girls."

"What other girls?" A sly smile came over him "You're my only muse."

"Humph." She closed her eyes and faced away with crossed arms.

"Don't think I didn't notice your handiwork on that portrait of Lady Arcutien." Ryan recognized that tone and got on a knee.

"My lady, please forgive this one's impertinence." He shaped the magic into his hands; it was difficult, but he was well practiced. A bouquet of wildflowers was soon held out to her. Despite not having an affinity for earth or water, his brother had insisted he learn this small growth manifestation. Seeing the eye peek open and the upturning of lips, Ryan felt his efforts well placed.

"Dork." She took the bouquet from him, placing one of the flowers in her hair. Opening the window, she released the rest to float away.

"That was a happy accident." He continued, rising to his feet again.

"As a proud member of the photography club, I couldn't pass up the scene." A club he was currently blowing off to help with hers. It's not like they had much gear. The guys and gals would manage without him.

"Accident implies you were not stalking the poor boy." She huffed, but a smile remained on her face.

"Stalking is a strong word. I was following intently." He leaned against a desk, hands by his side, with a thoughtful expression.

"Don't tell me you're not the least bit curious about him. The fifth or third year would make sense. Coming in on the fourth year? As a bastard no less? That's all kinds of weird. Add on his class schedule showing he clearly failed the placement exam, and you have to wonder what's going on."

"That's your family talking." She dismissed while pushing him off the desk. Fixing whatever he had misplaced.

"Peering into everything as if it were some grand conspiracy. Not that it's any of our concern, but have you considered the state of House Ardere to begin with? Their title is hollow these days. They are liable to Name anyone with an ounce of magical talent that shares their blood."

"Maybe…" he trailed off in an unconvinced tone.

"Rather than waste your time chasing your wild imagination, you should try focusing on helping the other bastard in our life." Gregor.

"He rebuffs me whenever I try." He didn't try to keep the frustration from showing.

"There's not much else I can do. At this rate, we'll just have to wait for him to reach majority and see what happens. Either his Name is confirmed and we get the old Gregor back or it's revoked." He didn't say what would happen in the second scenario. He didn't want to think of it.

"The Naming process is cruel," Jess said emphatically.

"To take someone into your house and name them as your blood, only to strip it away should they prove inadequate by majority? There must be a better way of doing things."

"Well, you know my thoughts on that." Ryan gruffed. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. She stretched out her palm towards him.

"Keep your radical thoughts to yourself." Some would find it strange that one from a family known for their contributions to the foreign intelligence field would harbor such thoughts. It was precisely his background that birthed them. His family saw the writing on the wall. Since time immemorial, the Empire had always had the upper hand. Time and time again, they'd ventured over the Great River. The Federation's armies melted away in their presence, and the Empire occupied territories in the name of ancient glory.

Yet their holdings never persisted. Unlike the Holy Enclave, who accepted their position of vassal with grace, the people of that land refused to break. Soldiers would find their throats slit in the night. Plague would spread in the camps. The food of Nobles would be poisoned. The snakes even touched the Imperial homeland, with entire lineages being wiped out. The gap in strength that made them employ such horrendous methods was closing. It may even be already gone. They had progressed too quickly. No, not had.

Were. Those fools in the Diet didn't realize that by clinging to their ideals, they weren't preserving their way of life. They were dooming it to extinction. Grudges ran deep, and he wondered if the snakes were finally coming to collect. He took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment and focusing on his partner's signature. It was dim, with her not actively using magic. However quiet, he heard the melody all the same. It soothed him. He opened his eyes and complied with the hand.

She'd heard his rant enough times to recite it herself.

"I was hoping including Callum in our group would let them bond over that stress. A fat lot of good it's doing; the guy's too carefree. I think it might start having the opposite effect soon."

"Then why do you keep including him? We owe him nothing. Oh right, it's because of your conspiratorial mind."

"You're putting words in my mouth. I don't think it's some dastardly plot; I'm just curious, is all."

"Curious enough to hurt your actual friend." He winced, not having a good reply for that.

"That's enough distractions for today. There's still plenty to do." She tossed an empty box towards him, which he took and started to collapse.

"You're wrong, by the way. About him being carefree. There's an underlying anxiousness that accompanies him." Was there? He hadn't noticed. Jessica did. He watched his fiancée work. She had sourced a scrunchie from somewhere and put her hair in a loose ponytail, the flower sticking out. They'd been engaged for as long as he could remember. His parents had called it a near-perfect arrangement. Both of their families were of similar rank. They were members of the same political circles.

Geographically, their lands were near enough to support one another and far enough to prevent overlapping claims. Their blood's affinity matched well. One side had a spare son. The other had a similarly aged daughter as heir. It was as if the goddess of marriage, Urel herself, had risen and blessed their future union. No one had asked their opinion. He didn't know if she loved him. He didn't know if he loved her. He did know they got along. That would have to be enough.

"Stop lazing about." She tossed another box his way.

"We have a lot of work to do." He caught it with a grin. Could be worse. Cal had been ditched. He didn't begrudge them. Frankly, he was astonished it had taken this long. He was being melodramatic. The others had decided to use today's lunch period to go work on club tasks. That's what they said at least; it could be they were tired of his presence and needed an excuse. He'd gotten used to eating with them during the standard class days too quickly; it felt weird to do otherwise.

Prior to deciding where to eat by his lonesome, he'd stopped by the registration building to see if he could have that chat with the Spirit. The only thing in the building was a signpost that said 'out to lunch'. Cal couldn't tell if it was a joke or not. He burned it for good measure. He settled on the central dining hall, wanting some familiarity with where he was eating. He waited in line while scanning the floor. It would be difficult to grab an alone spot with the increase in traffic.

The line inched forward, and Cal was beginning to regret his decision not to eat at a less populous location.

"Excuse me," a voice spoke from behind him.

"Callum Ardere, correct?" Cal turned to face the speaker. Yep, this was a mistake. The grey-haired young man from the city stood there. The leech, if he was to believe Lily. He looked different from before. With an easy-going smile on his face. Cal didn't trust it.

"Apologies." Cal read from the 'how to handle pushy nobles' playbook Claire had drilled into him. She'd written it; he'd titled it.

"I'm currently preoccupied. I'll be happy to have a discussion with your person at a later, more opportune time." The trick was there would be no opportune time. It wasn't much of a trick.

"The fault lies with me for approaching you so suddenly." The young man took his refusal in stride.

"In way of amends, why don't you join me in dining upstairs? You'll find there will be more exclusive options with nary a wait." Cal's line moved another inch. The glacial pace cemented his choice.

"Sure, lead on." He said with a shrug, dropping the act. This guy was trouble. Cal ate trouble for breakfast. Err, lunch in this case. The point is, he was hungry, and he doubted this guy's ability to do anything but annoy him.

"Wonderful." If bothered by Cal's change in demeanor, the young man didn't show it.

"Please follow me." He was led up a few floors to a private room. A servant bowed, opening the door for them. A single round-clothed table with two seats and menus occupied it. A large set of windows operated as a backdrop, letting in light. Cal didn't wait for the servant to pull out the chair for him and promptly plopped down. He couldn't say the same for his companion, who seated himself the 'proper' way.

"Where are my manners? I failed to introduce myself. Allow me to rectify that, I am Petro Lucerna." The man picked up the menu; not sparing it a glance, he handed it to the waiter.

"We won't need these. Fetch us a bottle of Calidum; your oldest vintage will do. For the meal, we'll take the Chef's recommended course for the day."

"Of course, my lord." The waiter gave a slight bow and retrieved Cal's menu as well.

"Wait," Cal called to the waiter.

"Nix the wine for me. Get me some apple juice, like the one from downstairs. Thank you." The waiter assented with another bow and left them. Cal watched Petro, noticing the smile showed signs of strain. Excellent. He'd agreed to do his best not to besmirch the Ardere name. Given Alice's reaction, he was betting this guy didn't count. The brothers didn't count either. They'd started it.

"I forget; this all must be a rather fresh experience for you." The smile eased again.

"I'm certain you'll adjust in time, provided you receive the proper guidance." Cal suddenly felt slimy. He didn't get a chance to respond as the waiter had already returned with the drinks and first course. It was…Cal didn't know what it was. Some sort of vegetables. Cal purposely took the dessert spoon and began eating.

"Did you know?" Petro held any thoughts of Cal's antics to himself.

"That we are cousins of a sort?" They weren't. Although he hadn't known Alice had a cousin, let alone one she loathed.

"It's true, our house used to be one some generations ago."

"That's interesting," Cal replied casually. He had a good idea of where this conversation was headed.

"I'm glad you feel that way." Petro swirled the wine.

"There are those who don't like to speak of our shared history." Cal could think of one in particular.

"To family," Petro raised his glass. Cal grabbed his. Took a swig. And clanged the glass while Petro was still frozen from his actions. A part of him had wanted to put too much force and 'accidentally' break the glasses against each other. He held himself back; that'd be rude to the staff responsible for cleaning. The waiter entered again carrying another course. The interval seemed shorter than Cal remembered it was supposed to be. It must be some condensed version to accommodate the lunch period.

Cal grabbed the small bowl of soup. Slurping it in the most obnoxious way he knew. If Mask was watching him right now, they might shed a tear. Or claim copyright infringement. You never quite knew with them. Petro frowned and set down the spoon he was about to use.

"In the spirit of family. I was hoping we'd be able to spend more time together and discuss the future of our house. Apologies, I meant houses." Cal did not believe that to be a slip.

"Sure thing." Cal pointed at Petro's untouched soup.

"You mind? Thanks." He didn't wait for a response before taking the bowl and repeating the process. It was good soup.

"I'll tell Alice and we can set a date. We'll be like the three amigos."

"That won't be necessary!" Petro said. The words in a race to escape his mouth.

"She and I, we don't see eye to eye on some matters. It would be better to limit the conversation to ourselves."

"I don't know; doesn't that seem like we're going behind her back?" Cal asked like a child questioning if the nice man in the white van really did lose his puppy.

"Perish the thought. We're simply two members of noble society discussing matters relevant to us." Cal faced a fork in the road. He could end this now or play the dumb hick longer and get more information on whatever plan he was cooking up. Judging from how this guy acted in front of Marcus, he didn't have the same resources or influence as the dukedom's heir. Cal also wasn't being forced to spend time with him due to the meddling of an over-perceptive drunk.

The door opened, and the waiter pulled in a trolley with their entrees. That made it easy.

"Thanks for the food." Cal got up, intercepting the waiter and grabbing one of the plates.

"This guy is covering everything, right?" He received a small nod, prompting him to dump the contents of the second plate on his.

"Cool, I'll take this to go. Later Pedro."

"Wait, we're not finished…did you call me Pedro?"

"No clue what you're talking about." Petro made to rise after him. He didn't make it far as the wine glass tipped and spilled its contents over the man's uniform. A loud curse came out, the noble facade cracking. Curiously, none of the wine landed on the table itself. Cal smirked as he walked out. The idiot hadn't realized the magic he'd sneaked in when their glasses touched.