Saving the school would have been easier as a cafeteria worker

Cal strongly suspected his first class of the day, advanced magical combat, would be canceled. He planned to show up for five minutes and then leave for a late breakfast.

He'd made it all of two steps from his bedroom when a coffee-drinking Alice informed him they'd been summoned to the campus's central building, the clock tower, to meet with the headmaster. Technically speaking, the summons was for him alone, but as heir, Alice had a right to attend. At least, that's what she tried to explain to the secretary trying to bar her entrance.

Both sides were steadily ramping up their levels of passive aggression when the secretary's computer pinged, and they were ushered inside without another word of protest.

Victor's office was spacious enough to double as a sparring ring. At its center sat a trio of couches and a lone armchair, likely intended to host larger audiences in a relaxed setting. Sculptures flanked the room's wings—some modeled after buildings Cal recognized from campus, others shaped in human likeness. Plaques beneath the latter identified them as former headmasters, complete with their periods of tenure. In that context, Cal concluded the displays were curated to impart a sense of pedigree and the Academy's evolution over time.

Past those pieces was a massive desk, easily spanning five meters in length. It was made of a black matte stone and had a red trim, matching the Academy's colors. Behind it sat a middle-aged man who looked to be trying his best not to leap over the desk and strangle the two students seated opposite him.

Admittedly, Cal's reading of the dead-eyed glare he was receiving might have been off. Then again, Alice hadn't taken a breath since entering, so he probably wasn't too far off the mark.

Cal glanced to the side, seeing her stoic face. Her skin was starting to gain a bluish tint, and if no one said anything, she was liable to pass out.

"So," Cal directed toward the headmaster. "Did you give Ferguson a hand?"

Alice's eyes darted toward him with panic, confusion, and condemnation. As this was a formal setting, the proper etiquette would have been to wait for the person with higher authority to open the discourse. However, Lily had said, 'Vic was cool,' and Cal didn't feel like wasting his day by staring at the man.

The lines on Victor's face grew more pronounced as the man frowned at the pair.

"Is that meant to be a jest about my colleague's missing limb?" Victor asked, his voice flat.

Cal read the unspoken threat and leaned back. He crossed his arms and rested a foot on his knee. His eyebrow rose exaggeratedly as he examined the man sitting in front of him.

"It was actually supposed to be a reminder that I brought back the rest of him," Cal replied, a hint of accusation bleeding through.

He hadn't intended to be so confrontational, but he came in here expecting gratitude, not whatever this was.

Sensing the growing turbulence of his fake sister, he targeted her next.

"You said that last one out loud," he commented smoothly, watching her face shift to abject horror. Her wide eyes and parted mouth were quickly rectified, and her noble mask was re-donned. Cal huffed in amusement before mumbling, "That's what you get for yelling at me in your head."

At the very least, she could be more discreet about it. In fairness to her, he had plenty of practice spotting such things.

"Do you know how many of my predecessors had a royal perish under their watch?" Victor asked dryly.

It was a rather pointed question, and while he could make an educated guess, he didn't go to school to do math.

"The same number it was yesterday?" Cal responded in kind, secretly patting himself on the back for that bout of quick thinking.

To say he took the wind out of Victor's sails would be an overstatement, but it no longer felt like the administrator was considering corporal punishment.

It occurred to him that his comparison to a sparring ring wasn't a coincidence. There was an awfully large amount of open space between the displays and seating.

"And that is why I allowed you a night's rest," Victor grunted. He propped an elbow on the table, his chin sinking into his fist. "The same couldn't be said for my staff, who were already on edge after spending the last few days keeping order following the incident in the warehouse district."

If Victor's goal was to elicit guilt from Cal, he had succeeded. It lasted until he remembered who planted the idea of impersonating a criminal into his head.

"That just tells me you don't have proper procedures in place to handle a crisis," Cal criticized. He was paraphrasing Olivia. It was one of the lines she parroted whenever he did the exact opposite of what the book prescribed. Needless to say, he could recite the thinly veiled rant in his sleep.

"Excuse me, headmaster," Alice broke in, finally getting over her sense of propriety, "will you do us the courtesy of specifying what grievances you have with our house? My brother is still recovering from his outing."

That was categorically untrue. Physically, Cal felt great. The last time he'd come close to a full night's sleep, he'd jolted awake with a hangover. This time, he'd eased into consciousness, his awareness gradually returning. The trance worked as an adequate substitute, but there was something about a true night's sleep he hadn't realized he'd been missing.

Not wanting to make her lie obvious, he forced a yawn that he muffled in the crook of his elbow.

Given his previous demeanor, he wasn't sure his audience bought it.

"That depends," Victor said, pushing a small stack of papers forward. "How much of this is factual?"

Alice pulled it toward the both of them, spreading the pages out. Cal quickly realized it was an account of their trip. It glossed over everything before their arrival at Promiterra, and then grew annoyingly meticulous. The way the details and perspective shifted told him it was a joint project between Rolland and Benny.

"You almost died?" Alice asked in a breathless whisper.

There was no 'almost' about it. He was starting to strongly consider sharing with her what he told Lily about his peculiar constitution, but he hadn't worked up the nerve yet.

"I got better," Cal stated, trying not to dwell on that detail. He scrutinized the documents, searching for any issues. The problem was, he didn't feel qualified enough to point them out. "I'd call it broadly correct. My memory's hazy in parts."

He purposely didn't specify which parts those were in case he needed to walk things back at a later date.

"What's this about a spirit?" Alice asked distractedly, before refocusing on something else. "And is this right, Promiterra, the capital of old? That's more than a priceless piece of history."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

In Cal's opinion, any and all complaints should be forwarded to Lily. She was the one who gave the abbreviated retelling.

"If it hadn't been for the endorsement of a royal and former Finger," Victor grumbled, "I would believe it to be fantastical drivel."

That was a reasonable reaction, and Cal knew the headmaster would not be the last to experience it.

"Assuming it is accurate as written," Alice said uncertainly. "What are your expectations here?"

As important as he was sure this all was, Cal's attention began to drift. The cause of it was the staff resting against Victor's desk. With the context of the cabin, his leading theory was that it, likewise, came from the corpse of a god. There was a nuance to the danger it exuded, and if he were to take a guess further, he would say it was from a different god than that of the cabin's.

"There was no city, and there was no spirit," Victor dictated. He lazily waved a hand, and the pages jumped from Alice's fingers. They flew into the air before being shredded into thousands of pieces. "Their existence would be contrary to our records, and we're not prepared to shake the people's belief in them."

Something told him The Watcher and Victor would not get along. As for Cal? He was content to let them think it was buried.

"News of the demon will be leaked," Victor continued, "along with the knowledge that it fell to the combined assault of a former Finger and an Adjunctor."

Oh? It wasn't quite how he and Basem had agreed to handle it, but he was content to go with whatever was decided. Someone else wasn't.

"Our house has already come to an arrangement with the party from Shirai. Are you proposing we renege on that?"

There was a slight edge to her voice informing them that she wouldn't agree to that. It was a large departure from the girl who had almost asphyxiated herself, and Cal knew where she was coming from. Alice couldn't have House Ardere be known for breaking those types of deals.

"I've spoken to the Adjunctor. House Ardere will get their due," Victor said, his tone placating. "For now, we're concealing the students' involvement. It is a temporary measure. His Highness's movements are tracked, and his absence hasn't gone unnoticed. Those who doubt the Whistling Death's demise have speculated that the prince either went into hiding out of fear or tried to hunt down the criminal himself."

The correct answer was C.

Rolland ended up having a sleepover at the villain's house.

"With the timing of events, the students will likely piece together his and, potentially, Callum's participation in the demon's death. However, the Emperor will be—" Victor paused, his expression momentarily vacant. "Displeased at his heir's brush with death. We won't endorse any official narrative without his express approval."

Cal really, really hoped the Emperor knew of his true identity. He didn't want to be the one who had to explain it.

"The Emp—" Alice cut herself off, swallowed, and ignored the outburst. "I see. Yes, waiting for his guidance is sensible. When will he be informed?"

"Later than I would prefer," Victor said with frustration. His chair turned as he looked toward the large window behind him. Beyond the panes of glass, the campus buzzed with activity, the view broken only by the slow sweep of the clock's large hands. "This is a delicate juncture. We've already lost one student. If it comes to light that we almost lost a royal? The Academy will be stripped of all its autonomy. The only control I can exert on the outcome comes in the form of the messenger. They will need to be of sufficient station to curb any extreme measures our Emperor might be inclined to take."

Cal's expression remained neutral as he considered the headmaster's words. The man had a knack for bending reality to fit his needs, and though he claimed it was all for the Academy's sake, the lack of oversight made for ripe conspiracy grounds.

"Is Rolland not going to go himself?" Cal inquired.

It seemed logical that the son would have the best chance of persuading the father, but Cal didn't know the details of their family dynamic—nor did he care to. His train of thought stopped as he was forced to confront the fact that these were the kinds of things he had to know, inconvenient as they were.

"His Highness, and all other participants," Victor said, fixing Cal with a steady stare, "will be confined to campus for the time being."

Cal was fine with the first part and vehemently opposed to the second. Even with Olivia's ability to visit campus, he wasn't getting himself stuck here. Again.

"Pardon my confusion," Alice said carefully. "If Callum is not under disciplinary action, what right does the Academy have to restrict his movements?"

Was there a legal basis to fight this? He was just going to ignore the order.

"These measures are not punitive but are centered on safety," Victor retorted, avoiding the crux of Alice's argument.

Her actions were reserved, but Cal could sense she was on the path to getting worked up. It wasn't the first time he'd seen this play out, and yet it held greater meaning now.

"My brother is perfectly able to protect himself."

Victor stared at her, stony-faced. The massive clock behind him proved useful in counting the seconds ticking by.

"I was referring to the city, and this restriction extends to you as well. Either of your presences may provoke a response by a recently spurned member of Infinita Nox. While Callum's record shows he'd be able to keep his head, it also mentions a lack of restraint."

So he was being barred from the city… because he might fight himself?

"By any chance, did the teacher who wrote that recently take down any cultural landmarks? I'm not sure he'd be the best judge of character."

He was also convinced those were notes from the beginning of the semester. Cal had turned over a new leaf.

"I can't recall anything of the sort happening," Victor said plainly. "Do you, Lady Ardere?"

Ah, right. They were still playing this game. How convenient.

"I may, and unless you have proof of Callum's recklessness, your concerns around safety are empty."

Alice's back was straight, and her chin was held high. She was the picture of moral superiority, and even Cal was able to predict how it would soon crumble.

"Concerns like one of you causing a warehouse explosion and the other contributing to a city blackout?" Her face tightened, and Cal watched her fingers press into the fabric of her skirt. "I will reiterate—this is not a punishment. I'm grateful for Callum's contribution. Ferguson's return is a relief to few, but I count myself among them. These measures are intended to protect you both, even if it's from yourselves."

Alice's eyes narrowed, and Cal could feel her magical signature flicker. He was in the same boat. They were being treated like unruly children, and it didn't sit right with him.

There was a thud from behind him, and he turned his head toward the source. Another thud sounded, this one louder than the last. Vines erupted from the threshold, spreading across both doors before ripping them off their hinges.

Dressed in her white blouse and green pants, the deputy headmistress marched into the room as if she were its owner.

"Victor." Her voice was cool and stood in stark contrast to the mass of writhing vines behind her. "I've been warned you're taking liberties with the students."

Until now, Evergreen had always come off as a stickler to Cal. Seeing her casually vandalize the headmaster's office was startling.

She strode up to them, displeasure written plainly across her face. Her eyes softened slightly when they landed on Alice, then shifted toward him. They lingered, narrowing on his wrist.

He realized what she was staring at, and the bracelet of twine shifted up his arm, concealing itself under his sleeve.

Maybe the weapon was better suited to a growth mage, but he wasn't about to let her confiscate his loot.

"Deputy Headmistress," Victor said calmly, eyeing the vines without concern. "Must you constantly destroy my doors?"

Her attention shifted to her boss. The air of superiority she carried herself with made that relationship questionable.

"I find you're more receptive when I do," Evergreen said without shame, "and you did not deny it."

Victor's palm opened, and the staff eagerly jumped into it. He tapped it once without rising from his seat.

"It is for their own well-being."

His eyes closed, and despite there being no open windows, a breeze kicked up. Cal prepped his shell out of precaution.

"It's a violation of their rights as proper nobles. Do I need to warn you any further?"

This was weird.

Did she like Alice enough that she was willing to go to bat for her? Where was this favor before?

"Being a growth mage does not necessitate you being a thorn in my side."

The vines had multiplied, coating half the room in their tendrils. Cal watched one of the longer ones curl its way around their chairs.

"I will take that as you rescinding your arbitrary restrictions," Evergreen declared, daring the headmaster to challenge her ruling. She then turned to them sharply. "Both of you are free to go. I will have words with the headmaster in private."

By that, Cal was pretty sure she meant they were about to fight. Alice and he shared a look and wisely chose to let the immature adults work through their own issues.

The vines parted, allowing them to pass, and he was on his way to freedom when Alice slowed. Her hair swayed gently as she faced the two administrators.

"Headmaster, may I ask who you've chosen to deliver the message to the Emperor—and how long it will take them to do so?"

Ah, yep. That was important info to know. He'd forgotten to ask it himself.

The headmaster gripped his staff, rotating it in his hands. He rose, turned his back on them, and paced to the window.

"She has accepted my invitation," Victor said, his voice carrying over as he watched over the campus. "When she arrives, I do not presume to know. It will be whenever she deems Right."