Luckborn

Bzzzz.

New Objective: Discover Emrys Gale's secret.

Otter barely registered the notifications. The ancient journal captivated him.

The vellum pages were stiff with age, the ink faded but still legible beneath the dim glow of the reading lamp. He traced his gloved fingers along the stitched spine, careful not to damage the fragile artifact as he turned to the first entry.

Then he tried to read it.

He was fairly certain the words were in Aurelian, although they seemed to contain more vowels than usual. At least, he could read the individual words. But strung together as they were, they made little sense. Half the sentences were twisted in ways that made his brain ache. A few words he didn't recognize at all. Otter furrowed his brow, picking his way through the first passage like someone stumbling through unfamiliar terrain.

"The firstborne structures stand resolute, yet my spirit findeth no contentment. Within the veree root there lingers a wayward hum, a trembling note unnamed, eludeing art and order. It is a thing unbounde, a shape unshaped. Mayhap my caution doth exceed its bounds—or mayhap this murmur be but the herald of that which lieth yet in shadow."

Otter blinked. It felt like his early days learning to read. He could pronounce the words but lacked comprehension. He looked to Quisling, who simply sat there with a broad grin and a twinkle in his eye.

Otter narrowed his eyes, pulled out a pencil, and began to paraphrase the passage.

The initial constructs hold firm, though I am dissatisfied. There remains within the foundation an unpredictable current, a resonance I cannot yet name. It defies categorization. Perhaps I am overcautious. Or perhaps this is the whisper of something yet unseen.

That was a little easier to understand, but the language was still quite formal. It was clear this was going to take some time.

Gale's entries varied wildly—some brief and sharp, others sprawling with notes on magic, academia, and mundane frustrations. He wrote about theories on mana production and spell architecture, about arguments with colleagues, about days spent in quiet contemplation.

What he didn't write about—at least not yet—was anything useful.

Otter sighed and kept reading.

"The Academy doth flourish, yet my heart is ill at ease. In structure lieth wisdom, yet woe betide the fool who taketh structure for truth. We build, we shape, we fashion anew—but do we, in sooth, perceive? Or do we but don the masque of knowing and call it understanding?"

Otter ran a hand down his face.

He barely made it through a few pages before Quisling cleared his throat. "Time's up."

Otter looked up, disoriented, like he'd surfaced from deep water. "Already?"

Quisling chuckled. "Yes, already. I must return this to the archives." He reached for the book, locking it back into its protective case. "After all, we have class tomorrow."

Otter hesitated, torn between frustration and eagerness. "Professor… would you be willing to let me study it more?"

Quisling regarded him with open curiosity. "You truly find this engaging?"

Otter hesitated. Engaging might not be the right word. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important buried in those pages.

"Yes," he said honestly.

Quisling studied him for a moment longer, then smiled. "Dedication is a rare trait in students these days." He tapped the case. "Very well. As long as you continue assisting me, I see no harm in letting you study this further."

Otter exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Professor."

Quisling hummed in amusement. "Don't thank me yet. You've still got a long way to go."

Otter grimaced as he glanced at the journal again. He wasn't wrong.

But at least now, he had time.

***

The candlelight flickered over the polished mahogany table, casting shifting shadows across the stone walls of the conference room. A chill hung in the air, though none of the people seated around the table acknowledged it.

Overseer Blackwood sat with his fingers steepled, his sharp gaze fixed on the man across from him. Overseer Kane, ever the picture of restrained intensity, leaned forward slightly, palms on the table. His expression was neutral, but his piercing eyes betrayed the storm of thoughts beneath the surface.

Between them lay a single sheet of parchment, covered in precise, flowing script—one of many reports detailing the increasing frequency of system malfunctions across the Academy. Around them, the other council members sat silently. Kane and Blackwood weren't rivals. Usually, they got along quite well with each other. But when they were at odds, the forceful nature of each man's personality often led to a strained tension that the others preferred to avoid.

Kane was the first to break the silence.

"It's all connected," he said, his voice calm but heavy with certainty.

Blackwood exhaled slowly. "That's a leap."

Kane tapped the parchment. "No, it's a pattern. The system anomalies. The Kaosborn incursion. The hooded figure lurking around campus. Otter Bennett." He leaned back, folding his arms. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Blackwood rubbed his temple. "I won't tell you you're wrong, but I will tell you to be careful. You're making assumptions based on circumstantial evidence."

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"Then let's examine the circumstances." Kane shifted in his chair. "Ever since that boy arrived, the System has behaved unpredictably around him. He was at the center of the simulation attack."

"Which was one of many simultaneous attacks throughout the realm," Silas interrupted.

Kane ignored the interruption. "He's been gaining skills at an abnormal rate for someone without a Class. There are confirmed reports of System glitches occurring. And now, someone is using advanced spellcraft on Academy grounds."

Blackwood raised a brow. "You think Otter's causing these things?"

Kane's lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't know. But whether he's the catalyst or just a bystander, the fact remains that wherever he goes, trouble follows."

Blackwood leaned back in his chair, glancing at the other administrators. Kane was making a serious accusation. Most of the faces he saw were neutral, undecided on the matter. Instructor Vael, however, was clearly in favor of removing the boy from the Academy. "Proximity to suspicious events does not imply involvement. Many other students could also be connected in a similar manner. Torrin Hale, for example." He began ticking off fingers. "He was in the simulation during the attack. He is also from Brighthaven. He was present during several of the System glitches. Do you suspect him as well?" Blackwood knew Kane had taken a liking to Torrin during his first semester course.

Kane blustered, "Well, of course not. He is lacking one very important piece of the puzzle. His existence isn't an anomaly."

There were a few nods around the table.

Blackwood's tone darkened. "Just because we don't understand what is happening to Mr. Bennett doesn't mean something sinister is involved. If we start pointing fingers without proof, we set a dangerous precedent."

Kane's jaw tightened. "I don't intend to start pointing fingers, Silas. But we can't ignore what's right in front of us." He lifted the parchment and gestured vaguely toward the stack of other reports. "How long before the anomalies become catastrophes?"

Blackwood didn't answer immediately. Instead, he let the weight of Kane's words settle between them. Finally, he said, "I share your concern with the dangerous potential we find ourselves in. However, there are many possible explanations, some more concerning than others. If the glitches are a result of Mr. Bennett's luck stat, it is unlikely that events will escalate. We will monitor the situation. Closely. If something else is in play, which I suspect to be the case, the boy is just as much a victim as everyone else. Offering him up as a sacrificial lamb will accomplish nothing."

Kane didn't look satisfied, but he nodded once. "Fair enough, I suppose." Then he looked at the others assembled. "Where are we with this hooded stranger?"

Overseer Hampton spoke up. "Existence confirmed. We have a corroborating eyewitness with one of the new guards. He claims to have seen the cloud of papers, as described by Mr. Bennett, and a person standing on a nearby roof. That is the only sighting, however, and no evidence of the person's identity has been found."

"Should we increase patrols?" Vael asked.

Blackwood shook his head. "This person's intentions are unclear. If they wished to do someone harm, they have had several opportunities to do so. But the use of Obfuscation magic is concerning. Maintain current patrols, but randomize their paths. No sense in becoming predictable."

Hampton nodded and made a note.

When the meeting was over, Silas went back to his office and closed the door. He ran a hand over his face as he poured himself a glass of amber colored liquid.

Things were not going as he had planned. Inviting Otter to the Academy should have been a harmless thing. An experiment to show the others the potential in outliers. Otter's incredible Luck stat might have been causing the glitches and other strange anomalies around campus. He couldn't deny that. But the Kaosborn attack? No way was the boy involved in that.

He wasn't sure what his next move should be. He owed it to Otter to shield him from baseless accusation, but his job was also to protect the other students. If things got worse, he needed to be ready.

***

Levi absently fiddled with a puzzle cube, watching Otter with a slack expression. Otter had just finished recounting his experience with Quisling and the unexpected ease of gaining access to Emrys Gale's journal. He expected Levi to be at least a little impressed.

Instead, Levi let out an exaggerated sigh and leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. "That's it?"

Otter frowned. "What do you mean, 'that's it?'"

"I mean," Levi drawled, spinning the cube between his fingers. "I thought we were planning a grand heist. You know—sneaking past wards, outsmarting the system, avoiding guards, all that thrilling, heart-pounding nonsense. And instead, you just asked nicely and got handed the key to the castle." He sniffed. "It's practically cheating."

Otter rolled his eyes. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not exactly looking to get expelled."

Levi dropped the chair back onto four legs with a thunk and leaned forward. "That's not what I mean. This is all too easy. Think about it—if what you're looking for was truly some great, dangerous secret, do you think it'd just be sitting on a shelf, waiting for you to read it?" He pointed the coin at Otter. "You're being led along."

Otter shifted uncomfortably. "You think it's a trap?"

Levi shrugged. "Maybe not a trap, exactly. But I don't like how neatly this all worked out. You suddenly find the keystone right after that mysterious paper whirlwind? Quisling, of all people, happens to be the one giving you access? And now you're poring over some dusty old journal like it's the answer to everything?" He shook his head. "It stinks."

Otter scowled. "You're forgetting something important. I'm really lucky, remember."

Levi frowned. "True. Maybe there's some luck involved. But I still don't like it."

Otter sighed. He wanted to dismiss Levi's paranoia outright, but… he wasn't wrong. The timing was convenient.

Levi watched him closely. "Look, I get it. You're desperate for answers. But don't let that blind you to the possibility that there could be something else going on."

Otter didn't reply. He just stared down at the tabletop, turning the thought over in his mind.

Erin had a completely different outlook.

She sat beside Otter on a bench near the practice fields, where students were finishing up their afternoon drills. The crisp air carried the sounds of clashing steel and barked instructions, but Erin's attention was solely on him.

"So, let me get this straight," she said, resting an elbow on the back of the bench. "Instead of stealing a keystone, breaking into the Restricted Section, and committing high treason or whatever, you're just… borrowing the book?"

Otter gave her a sidelong glance. "I wouldn't call it borrowing."

Erin smirked. "Right. You're reading it under proper supervision like a law-abiding student." She nudged his shoulder. "Otter, that's the most responsible thing you've ever done."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't know why everyone's acting like I wanted to break into the Restricted Section."

Erin raised an eyebrow.

"…Okay, fine. Maybe I wanted to. A little."

She snorted, but then her expression softened. "I'm glad, though. Really."

Otter frowned. "Glad about what?"

"That you found another way." She studied him for a moment. "You've been so caught up in this whole thing. The moment you got it in your head that your father left you some secret message, you stopped thinking about anything else. It's been worrying me."

Otter opened his mouth to argue—but he stopped. She was right.

"It's just…" He exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. "This is the closest I've been to answers, Erin. And for once, I'm not being stopped at every turn."

She reached over, taking his hand in hers. "I get it. And I want you to find what you're looking for. But not at the cost of everything else." She squeezed his fingers. "You don't have to prove anything, Otter. Not to me. Not to anyone."

His chest tightened at her words.

For a long moment, they just sat there, hands entwined.

Then Erin smiled, tilting her head playfully. "Besides, this way, you get to keep all your important bits."

"My… important bits?"

"Yes. If you had been stupid enough to try breaking into the Restricted Section, those wards might've taken a finger. Or a toe. And if they didn't…" She leaned in slightly. "Well, I do have a sharp knife."

Otter swallowed. "Right. Definitely a plus."

She grinned. "See? Everything worked out for the best."