Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

"I'm sorry, Wulf," Dr. Arnau said.

That didn't bode well.

Wulf stepped up to the table and faced Lord Umoch, putting on a brave face. He'd never spoken with an Orichalcum before, not in this life, and not in the last. There was something different about them. A pressure sprang up in his senses, like something was weighing on his mind, and when he cast his attention down to his cores, it was like a strong wind was trying to blast away their surfaces.

And the wind came from the direction of Lord Umoch, father of the boy they'd disgraced and gotten kicked out of school.

"Let's not pretend," Lord Umoch began, "that I don't know who any of you are. You think you're mysterious, you're not. You think you're hiding, you're not. You are a bunch of Istalis kids who got lucky, whose unchecked ambition got rewarded, and I find your very existence in these hallowed halls disgusting." He crossed his arms.

Dr. Azanthius looked down at the ground, and Dr. Arnau shook her head.

"Take a seat," Lord Umoch said, motioning to the chairs. No one moved. "Or not. I won't be long, and all the ceremony and head bowing gets old after a while."

He paced across the room, passing in front of Dr. Arnau, then paced back the other direction. "I suppose I should thank you for one thing, though. You gave me an excuse to get rid of my delinquent son for good. He was never going to be a powerful Mage, but he was my only son. My inheritance would've gone to him. Disgusting, but the way of the world."

Wulf's stomach dropped. He glanced at Kalee. "We didn't kill—"

"You gave me the excuse I needed to kick my son out," Lord Umoch said quickly. "Which was wonderful, I will admit. But you share a hand in the headache he caused, and I wouldn't be much of a Guildmaster if I couldn't get my affairs in order—or punish those who put them out of order. Now, if I don't look like I've taken action against you four for this, then I'll look weak. Again, it's just the way of the world—and the last thing any Guildmaster and Lord needs right now is to look weak."

"He likes to talk…" Irmond muttered.

"Quiet," Wulf hissed. Lord Umoch would've heard it anyway, with how his Marks would've enhanced his senses, with how many he would've obtained over the long years of his life. And you didn't make it to Orichalcum without having a Grand Mark.

Speaking of Marks, Wulf had been hoping for something after the fight in the harbour. There hadn't been anything yet, though.

Unless the Field still registered that they were in battle.

Wulf glanced back at Lord Umoch suspiciously.

"Don't worry," Lord Umoch said. "I won't kill you, and though I could demand that Azanthius expel you four or lose the funding my family gives, I am more merciful to my enemies than he would be."

That comment seemed more directed at Azanthius than Wulf and the others. Dr. Azanthius replied, "I didn't make you my enemy, my boy. You did that yourself."

"You picked her over me," Umoch snapped, glancing back at Dr. Arnau. "The offer's still open if you finally wish to join the family, my dear. I am, after all, in need of some new heirs." He held his hand out to her almost sarcastically.

"I wish I'd never shared a cockpit with you," Dr. Arnau replied.

"Ah, well, it was worth a try." Umoch shrugged. "You can't say you didn't have fun while it lasted, though."

"It was one summer, then you broke it off to be with another girl." Dr. Arnau was glaring at Umoch, now.

Wulf felt like he was watching a conversation that should've happened in private. He'd partially expected the Orichalcums to be slightly more dignified, but this?

"Reign yourself in, my lord," Dr. Azanthius said. "You are young, and there is no need for this."

"You're not my mom, and you're not my headmaster anymore," Lord Umoch said. "You're just an old man who couldn't get past Ruby."

"Like father, like son," Seith whispered.

Kalee, this time, was the one to kick Seith's ankle. Irmond and Seith were going to get them in trouble.

Azanthius folded his arms together and stood by the door with a look of regret on his face. "My mistake for thinking you would be different, my boy. But you taught me to pick my pupils better."

Judging by how Azanthius looked at Dr. Arnau, Wulf assumed the headmaster was referencing picking her over Umoch, but he didn't exactly know the context of that fiasco.

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"You don't seem to mind using me in the present, though." Umoch shook his head. "The fiends are only getting stronger, and I will not be able to help outside an Oronith soon. Low-Gold fiends are the highest I can kill without an amplification array." He paused, then added, "The family Oronith will take time to prepare, and I am no Pilot. It will take much longer to respond to fiends on your behalf next time." He spoke that part with a veiled threat.

"Apologies, sirs," Wulf said, trying to be as polite as possible, though it probably came out a little awkwardly. He hated it, but he also didn't need to get smited by Lord Umoch with a spare thought. "But…was there a reason that we were brought here?" He tried to resist for a moment, then added, "Except, of course, to air out grievances that a Bronze and few Coppers shouldn't be hearing."

Glaring, Umoch spun back toward them. "Like I said, you caused me a headache. Of dealing with my son, of handling his stunted magical growth, and of trying to find a new heir. It makes the guild look weak, and others will try to snap up our customers. The blame must be placed somewhere."

"On him?" Wulf suggested.

Lord Umoch tsssked, then shook his head. "That has already been done. But without your…antagonization, I'm sure he'd have stayed in the good graces of the academy. The blame must be spread, and I'm not going to save face in any other way." He glanced at Arnau, then back at Azanthius. "Besides, it's personal. You shouldn't have become their prize pupils if you didn't want to share their skeletons."

"We're not their prize pupils," Kalee said. "Azanthius barely knows us."

"And Dr. Arnau…I've only known her for a few weeks," Wulf added.

"I see all the signs." Lord Umoch shook his head. "Forgive me, but in time, you'll understand that I did you a service."

"Is it just me, or, like, has no one actually made the punishment clear?" Irmond asked.

"Punishment?" Lord Umoch chuckled. "That comes later. First, you must fail. I've made arrangements. If your crew doesn't reach High-Iron by the end of the year, Silent Wraith will be handed off to someone far more deserving, and you won't see your precious Oronith again."

Wulf's stomach dropped. It was a challenge, of course, and he could rise to it. But he'd felt Wraith's fear. He'd felt the Oronith's spirit, and he'd started working together. The prospect of losing his Oronith after all that made his stomach churn.

"High-Iron?" Seith exclaimed. "That's impossible! For all of us? Artificers always grow slower, especially as the ranks go on."

"At least the scum know their basics," Lord Umoch said. "But yes, that is impossible for people like you." He shook his head, then marched toward the door. He brushed past Dr. Azanthius, flicking his cloak on the way past. But he paused in the doorway and looked back. "I wish you best of luck, dear Arnau, and Headmaster…" Lord Umoch opened his mouth, then shut it again, then finally, said, "I hope your tea is lukewarm, at best."

With that, he marched out of the office.

Everyone stood around in complete silence, glancing at each other. When Lord Umoch's steps faded, Seith opened her mouth, but Wulf lifted his fingers, a sign to keep quiet. Umoch would hear them, even if they couldn't hear him.

Finally, after a few more seconds, Azanthius exhaled. He deflated and shrank down, then hung his head. "I am sorry, you four. I should not have taken interest in you. Now you have quite the task ahead of you, and though you've pulled off miracles in the past, I somehow doubt you'll make this one work."

"You have a say in who goes on the crews, don't you?" Wulf asked. "Can't you veto…whatever he's doing?"

"I could've, but…I made a deal. I apologize. I already agreed to give up Wraith if you don't make it to High-Iron by the end of the year—school year, that is. It was the only way he would agree to aid us."

Irmond's face went bright red. "Why, you little—" He rushed forward, but Wulf caught the back of his shirt and pulled him back.

"The passions of youth…" Azanthius muttered. "I wouldn't have done it if I didn't have to."

"We would've won anyway!" Seith insisted.

"Not without losing lots of Oroniths," Kalee muttered.

Wulf couldn't believe he found himself on the same side as Azanthius, but he couldn't deny it. Someone like Lord Umoch would blame the middleman, but they were better than that, and Azanthius had made a choice in the moment. The true culprit was Lord Umoch. This family was going to cause no end to Wulf's headaches.

When he was strong enough, he was going to mash Lord Umoch's face into the ground, same as his son.

"It's not over yet," Wulf said. He wouldn't thank Azanthius, and he wouldn't praise the man, but he wasn't going to rush forward and attack, either.

"I have nothing more to say," Azanthius said. "I don't expect you to accept my apology, but consider it a reward for your service tonight: for the rest of the year, you will receive a double allowance of mana-water. That's about as much as I can give you without harming your future advancement. You are dismissed."

Not exactly an apology, but Wulf wouldn't say no. He dipped his head, then backed away.

As he left the office and walked down the stairs, he narrowed his eyes. His sheet of enchanted parchment finally flared up, notifying him of something, probably a Mark. He'd deal with it soon—it wasn't a Grand Mark, or Mantri would be here.

But first, he needed to clean off, get changed, and calm his mind. His fingers trembled, and he clenched his fists. The Fletchers were going to get the world destroyed with their petty politics, and sooner than later, Wulf would have to put the guild in the ground.

And maybe, just maybe, the rest of the guilds would fall into line.

He'd been a soldier, a warrior. Someone who hit his problems until they no longer existed. This world of politics eluded him, and he needed to stop playing their game. He didn't understand how it worked.

When he was strong enough, he wouldn't have to worry about the machinations. It wouldn't matter how Umoch or the other guilds talked—he'd go right through them. And preferably, before the world fell apart.

When the four of them reached the bottom of the stairs, however, footsteps thudded behind them. Wulf stopped and looked back.

Dr. Arnau ran down the stairs, holding her granite briefcase, her hammer swaying on her back. "Wait, Mr. Hrothen."

"Yes, ma'am?" He tilted his head.

"I want to help you."