Chương 77: Chapter 14

"Vynderwynd preserve my faculties," Vycal muttered.

"I feel addled these days, unable to keep up with the proper forms of address of the times."

"The curse of immortality," Nivil said with a smile, spreading his hands to the sides.

"In part," Vycal scoffed.

"More like the curse of all this paperwork. Is your pet project nearly complete? I must say, I dearly regret accepting this position."

"She is doing well, a diamond in the rough as we expected," Nivil replied, leaning back into the armchair and crossing one leg over the other.

"I sense that she's already had a run-in with your people."

"Hm?" Vycal's brow wrinkled for a moment.

"Ah, yes. The merchant vessel she was on was attacked by an apostate and their apprentice, attempting to sink the ship and its food shipment. She helped put them down, but witnessed the apostate allowing their esper to possess their body. We couldn't let her speak of it further."

"Interesting," Nivil said, stroking his beard.

"She does seem to attract trouble, like her mothers."

"Not too much like them, I hope." Vycal's eyes darkened.

"No"—Nivil dismissed the concern with a wave—"but I'm more concerned about your son."

"Which one?" Vycal sighed.

"Is it Azreon again?"

"Indeed."

"What did he do this time?"

"Vycal," Nivil sighed and shook his head, "I had to suspend him almost two weeks ago. Two severe accounts of dereliction of duty in his first deployment. And that's not to mention his poor conduct elsewhere. He walks around like Luceri reborn, thinking he's immune to reprisal and trying to lord over other students and even professors." A dark look crossed Vycal's features as he listened.

"How public was the suspension?"

"I had him carried away by his own sycophantic professor," Nivil replied evenly.

"Gods." Vycal's hands tightened on the arms of the couch, the fabric straining under his strong grip.

"He continues to be an embarrassment to the family. Is there no saving him?"

"Perhaps you could speak with him, Vycal?" Nivil suggested as gently as he could.

"He is your son, after all. Or one of your spouses could?" His friend snorted at the suggestions.

"No, they've abandoned all responsibility for him, I'm afraid." He looked over at the stack of paperwork still on his desk and shook his head, "We've done what we can to temper his ambitions, tried to raise him to appreciate the world and his place in it… but no, you are probably all too correct when you say he thinks himself Luceri reborn.

He craves acknowledgement more than any of our other children, more than we can give—or care to, since he refuses to listen to constructive criticism and even beating the whelp fails to steer him right. It only grew worse after the… incident with the Lakael family." They paused their conversation as Orda returned with a tray of steaming hot tea and an array of Arcadia's finest pastries.

How Vycal kept his trim, muscular physique in spite of his sweet tooth was beyond Nivil, who had to assume the involvement of heretical magic. Both men thanked her as she exited with another bow, and Vycal ceremoniously poured two cups of tea for them—straining against his desire to quash his anger through desserts.

"Now that he's been made an example of," Vycal continued, around a mouthful of jelly-filled pastry, "can we shorten his suspension and spare my family name some embarrassment?" Nivil shook his head, expecting this.

"I thought you'd reach out well before this… Allowing him to return without steering him in a new direction will not help, Vycal. He's a capable warrior, but a fool that does not belong on the battlefield."

"Impossible." Vycal glared.

"He will become a commander of Zothiri's armies and must become a capable one. He must have inherited at least that much from me or his mother." Just your stubborn pride, Nivil thought to himself, and perhaps your sadistic streak, old friend.

"The Academy cannot shape that which refuses to bend, Vycal," Nivil insisted.

"It's not our job to correct problem children."

"It's not your job at all, Nivil!" Vycal snapped.

"We entertained your 'sabbatical' because of your prior service, but it's high time you return to your true duties!" Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"I believe you were the one looking to continue fighting after the line of Astoria won the Throne," Nivil countered, tone still level as he picked up a light, fluffy pastry.

"And that I wished to step away from hunting through shadows for threats to our Archon. Are there insufficient threats to the Empire for you to be entertained?" Vycal glowered, falling into one of his dark moods that Nivil was all too familiar with.

"The threats may be overt enough that I can trade this thrice-damned desk for a war table again, Nivil. Despite reports from our aethermancers that the ley lines aren't overflowing, reports of spawn attacks—led by Ur, no less—are on the rise in each kingdom. There's been enough rumours that spawn from different Titans are co-existing in close proximity that we're looking into it further. Something is stirring, Nivil, we don't have time for you to keep playing games—we need you leading the Inquisition again."

Nivil crossed his arms and smiled.

"Are you suggesting that I'm better at the job than you are?" Vycal rolled his eyes, fury abating somewhat at the friendly barb.

"I'm suggesting that my skills are needed elsewhere."

"I'll consider it," Nivil said.

"Do you think the dissidents will strike against the Academy again any time soon?"

"Perhaps. We're not sure how they got onto campus, but they've since gone to ground. A number of our leads and contacts vanished afterward… but we suspect they're going to bide their time before striking again. The food shortages are being corrected, slowly but surely; it will be more difficult to operate without agitated peasants to use as a shield."

"That's good, it gives me time to train our students faster and harder than before, to be ready for whatever is coming. As to the matter of your son: I'm willing to lift the suspension so he can still participate in mid-terms. I'm sure he'll still do well, despite his poor showing in his first deployment."

"Thank you," Vycal said, deflating further as he sipped his tea.

"We can't tolerate his disruptive behaviour, however," Nivil warned.

"We cannot have other noble children thinking they can get away with murder because of their station. Any such behaviour from him will be dealt with harshly, Vycal. It could reflect poorly on your house and on the Academy."

"I'll speak with him." The dark look in his friend's eyes told Nivil that Azreon would not walk away from the conversation unscathed. He only hoped it would be the last time such a conversation took place, for all their sakes. +++++"My exam's simple," Auric began. Shaya and her peers were arrayed before an artificial city that served as their testing grounds, each of them armoured only in standard gambeson.

"You'll see a combat scenario before you, you pick your weapons for it, and you engage it. Marks are based on how quickly and smoothly you can overcome the challenges. Magic will be allowed, but the clock will always be ticking—and your grades will continue to degrade if you take too long with it.

"The one exception is if you are challenging the course for credit"—Auric paused and looked at Shaya, the other students gasping as their gazes followed his—"in which case, you may not use magic at all."

"Good luck," Shaya, Bri, and Shep said to one another, bumping fists before splitting up. Shaya approached the first challenge, looking upon an open field with multiple unarmoured targets. She looked at the teaching assistant, who held up one finger to indicate how many weapons she could pick, then gestured to the weapons rack. Shaya tested a few of the short bows quickly and made sure to grab a quiver of arrows sized for the weapon.

Clawed fingers loosed arrow after arrow, each one thunking into the chest of a straw-filled dummy. The assistant whistled appreciatively and pointed her to the next challenge only a dozen feet over. Shaya squinted down range at three armoured targets, the closest one around sixty yards away while the furthest was around one hundred yards. She once again had to pick only one ranged weapon.

She chewed her lip as she debated between the accurate and hard-hitting arbalest and the more difficult to use Asharan compound bow. Hesitation would cost her precious seconds, so she grabbed the heaviest bow and trusted in her abilities. She checked the arrow tips in each quiver before grabbing one that had heavy iron bodkins made for punching through armour at range and got to shooting. She underestimated how much the wind affected such long-range shots and corrected for it.

It took her six shots, but she managed to take down the targets in less than a minute and rushed to the next station, thinking she still made better time with the bow than she would have with the arbalest. Behind her, other students still struggled with the ranged challenges. Those with enhanced strength spells snapped bows in their hands while others lost precious time putting up predictive magic. Ruby mages turned to their fireballs, straining their aether before the real challenges ahead of them.

But Shaya lost sight of them as a teaching assistant directed her into the city raised overnight by stone-shaping magic. The next challenge took place in a narrow alley, with three lightly armoured, wingless angels standing in it armed only with longswords. Without hesitation, Shaya grabbed a blunted spear from the rack and rushed down the alley.

They approached cautiously, the alley too narrow to swarm her, but Shaya made sure to manoeuvre them so their sword arms were always against the wall, preventing them from swinging at her easily. That advantage allowed her to overcome their ageless martial experience and she used quick, controlled stabs to muscle through the three beings and onto the next scenario while they evaporated into aetherplasm.

A deep, feline snarl made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as she approached an open space with no visible opponent. A teaching assistant stood in front of a weapons rack and held up two fingers as she approached. Shaya breathed a sigh of relief as she looked down into a pit, where only one normal tiger stalked back and forth. Then she realized that a mere tiger was not much easier to face than a spawn.