Saving the school would have been easier as a cafeteria worker

"The variety is impressive. However, the quality is lacking in areas."

Benny held a spiked fruit in the air, slowly rotating it. His thumb pressed on one of its sides, causing a depression in the fruit. It was overripe, and its remaining shelf life was questionable.

They'd spent about an hour perusing the wares available. The store's overloaded counters seemed less full than previously, but there was still plenty to go through. The narrow aisles didn't help in that process, but at least there weren't many other customers to contend with.

"Serrapom are out of season," the grocer, Haslin, explained with an apologetic look on his face. "And the imports are not always properly stored. Procuring a crate was already a stroke of luck."

Cal was familiar with the fruit. It was a type of pomegranate and native to Anis. He wouldn't necessarily disagree with Benny on the quality being an issue, but special considerations should be made.

"It's a local shop," Cal said, defending his countryman. "The people buying here use things within a day or two. Besides, if the two of us can't figure out a way to make use of past-due fruit, then we're doing something wrong."

Jams, cobblers, loaves… Cal could think of multiple options. He wasn't sure how some of them would work with the tartness, but he was willing to find out.

If they really needed fresh fruit, Cal could just take the seeds and grow some himself. Granted, soil quality and climate would slightly change the end result.

"As you say," Benny conceded, setting the fruit down. "However, the grains are also low in supply."

Cal hadn't noticed them during his prior visit. The stands on which the produce was displayed had drawers you could pull out. Inside were bins containing various flours and grains. He initially thought they were randomly assorted, but soon realized they matched the regions the fruit and vegetables above came from.

"That's temporary," Haslin added. Despite the man's eyes remaining trained on Benny, Cal had the feeling of being watched. "We had some unforeseen shortages recently."

Benny's brow furrowed in thought. He seemed to connect whatever dots needed connecting and nodded in acceptance.

"The matter is overblown. If tempers don't cool, then the crown is prepared to implement purchase limits."

Rationing? That was concerning.

Haslin leaned over his counter, clearly interested. "That's news to me. It must be the benefit of knowing people in high places."

He followed up with a full belly laugh, his missing teeth on display. With how empty the store was, the laughter felt off.

"It's precautionary talk thus far," Benny said, not placing much importance on his words. "And any limits would be done at the distribution level. Regulating individual purchases would be… problematic."

Cal assumed that meant the Empire lacked the infrastructure needed to police such a limit. They'd need to rely on the honor system, which almost never went well.

"The neighborhood folk have been good about it," Haslin said, glancing toward the street with a sigh. "But I'm not confident it will last."

What had everyone on edge…

Oh, right.

The trip had scrambled his sense of time, and while he knew it had only been a week since he'd woken up the majority of the city, he hadn't connected that to the empty streets and panic buying.

Consequences!

What fun!

"Hey, Benny," Cal said, jerking his head toward the door. "Think you can handle the rest? I have an appointment to make."

The boy looked at him quizzically but managed to withhold his curiosity.

"I'll see it done," he said simply.

Cal was halfway out when Benjamin's voice sounded again.

"Callum."

The Federation agent turned, wondering what was left to say.

"I—" His voice cut off, and a conflicted expression washed over him. "It's nothing."

Cal found it hard to take that at face value.

"Legally speaking," Cal announced while stepping into the bar. He looked around, visually confirming they were alone before continuing. "I can pretty much do what I want."

Given his unique status, he was iffy on what laws applied to him. However, that wouldn't stop him from making baseless claims.

Olivia wasn't at her post; instead, she was standing by one of the side tables. A stool had been flipped on top of it, and she looked to have been in the middle of cleaning.

"Callum," her response was chilly. "Or should I say Cal?"

Hmmm. That was ominous.

"Olivia," he matched her tone, strolling up to the counter and taking a seat. "Where do we start?"

She was to his back now, and he kept his eyes forward, examining the rows of bottles against the wall. The sound of marching footsteps heralded her approach, and she rounded the bar. Olivia didn't take a seat, staring at him with her arms crossed.

"You've grown close to the natives," she said clinically, eyes roving over him. "I don't believe that was part of your infiltration plan."

It was bold of her to assume there had been a plan.

"Or I'm a lot better at this spy business than you thought," he fibbed.

A singular, unimpressed eyebrow was raised in his direction.

"Okay, let's say you're right," he said, resting his arms on the bar top. Leaning forward, he continued with an almost conspiratorial tone. "So what? As long as I get the job done, everything will be fine."

Her gaze intensified as she scrutinized him further. He didn't shy away from her eyes, holding them in challenge.

Olivia, as much as she'd like to think otherwise, had no real power over him. Any recourse she had against him was half a country away.

"Have you put any thought into what would happen at the end of this?" she urged with naked irritation in her voice.

Cal huffed in amusement, prompting deep lines to form on her face. Her nose scrunched up, and he could tell a rebuke was forming on her lips.

"A lot, actually," he said, cutting her off preemptively. "If you think about it, isn't this what I'm meant to be doing? Take a broader look at the mission; it's about fostering Empire and Federation relations. In that sense, I'm doing better than any diplomat in the last couple of centuries."

He'd met the steward of a dukedom, trained with the heir of another, and had the ear of multiple royals. It may have been under false pretenses, but he'd unintentionally laid a foundation for future cooperation.

"First," she started, sticking out a finger. "The mission is about stopping a summoning. A task you blatantly ignored by charging off into the Waste."

Cal would be willing to concede on that point.

"Second." Her lonely finger got a friend. "You're a Federation agent, not an ambassador."

He was 95% certain those were the same thing.

"Third, you can't possibly believe any personal relationships would survive the conclusion of this assignment."

Her fingers remained in the air, taunting him. She wasn't wrong, but he didn't appreciate the way she threw it in his face.

"As you rightfully stated," Cal fired back. "We should really be talking about the summoning. So let's—

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Callum," she interjected, slamming both palms onto the counter. "You can't escape that easily. Tell me, realistically, how do you see this ending?"

In a blink, he could be out the door. It would mean taking said door with him, but that would be a worthwhile sacrifice to show how easy it would be for him to get away.

Unfortunately for her, he wasn't in the running mood.

"Ruin and destruction," he said, hoping to induce some panic in her.

Her face was rigid, making it difficult to gauge the effect of his words.

"Metaphorically, not literally," he clarified with a wave of his hand. "The city and school should be mostly fine, albeit missing a few more people. I imagine I'll have to do the disappearing myself after the Empire, in a display of corruption or incompetence, refuses to act in a timely manner."

It would be very on-brand for the Empire to drag its feet after finding out the perpetrators had problematic political dealings. He'd entertain them as best he could, but inevitably, he'd have to do something.

"Things get dicey after that. There's a solid chance I'm outed as a 'snake.'" He paused to deliver a set of air quotes. "I could also be blamed for the whole thing. Which would work out nicely for anyone wanting a war. The good news is that they wouldn't be able to stop me without a Hand nearby."

The bad news was that one was on her way.

"But let's say they don't and things end as amicably as possible. They'd still force me out of the country. Eventually, everyone I met would learn the truth of my identity and question who I really am, with most never wanting to speak to me again."

Hence the ruin and destruction talk.

Olivia's eyes remained steady on him, and he realized there was a part he was forgetting.

"Then I get to go 'home' and get yelled at for winning the wrong way."

Even if the purge of the Board went off without a hitch, there were plenty of reasonable complaints that could be leveled his way.

Still, it would be nice to see Albert and Millie again. Although the former might have trouble saying the same after Cal had a spirited discussion with him.

Elder abuse? No, sir. Cal would simply be making way for the retired man's dentures.

That would show him for essentially tricking Cal into this mess.

"Oh," Olivia's dumbfounded voice chimed. It seemed to echo in the small bar. "You have put thought into it."

No fucking shit.

"Sorry," she said, taking a slight step backwards. "With all your… activities, it's difficult to remember you can reason through things."

An awkward silence descended on the bar, with both patrons staring at one another. He wondered what she was classifying as 'activities,' but he wasn't eager to open another can of worms.

They stayed like that for an interminable amount of time before her left hand reached over her head. Without turning to see what she was doing, her fingers curled around a bottle on one of the higher shelves. Placing it between them, she bent down and produced two glasses from beneath the counter. Both were promptly filled.

Things had quickly entered into unknown territory, and it was his turn to be dumbfounded as she downed a shot in front of him.

"It's not even noon," he murmured, failing to comprehend what was happening.

Was this a new tactic of hers? It must have been.

Did she really think he'd get drunk—

His speculation was proved incorrect as she grabbed and finished the glass he thought was meant for him.

"Which one was it?" Cal found himself asking. "Mia or Alice. Which one drove you to take up drinking?"

She was fine when he left, so it must have been one of them.

Olivia's response was to refill both glasses. He caught her arm before it could deliver its payload, earning an ugly glower.

"Seriously," he stressed, slowly prying the shot free from her grasp. "What are you doing?"

Wasn't she meant to be the stable one?

Her arm struggled in his grip, and after some consideration, he altered his approach. Releasing her, he sent a subtle pulse of magic into her drink. She raised the glass to her face, only to have a block of ice slip out of it and smack her in the mouth.

That was meant to snap her out of it, but it did little to disuade her, and she soon reached for the bottle itself. Thankfully, he was faster, and a brush of his fingertip left it frozen.

Olivia picked up the iced-over bottle, weighing it in her hand before letting it slip from her fingers. It fell to the ground, and he bent over the bar, catching it just in time to see her reach behind for another bottle. She popped the cork, and it had almost met her lips when he yanked it from her.

She treated his efforts as nonexistent, blindly selecting her next option.

"Alright, this is starting to get—"

"Frustrating?" she answered before he could finish. "Dealing with someone who engages in self-destructive behavior while refusing to communicate? I couldn't possibly fathom how you feel."

Oh.

This was a lesson.

Blegh.

"This and that aren't the same thing," he defended, drawing back into his seat. "The warehouse thing was impossible to predict." For him, anyway. "And my trip was impromptu. I didn't have time to fill you in."

"Yet you had time to write a letter. No, wait. You had time to write two. One to me, and another to our colleague whom you sent a Justiciar after."

Phrased like that, it did sound kind of bad.

"Sent is a strong word. I merely guided her to someone who might be of some use."

Olivia didn't seem to like that, if the way her eye twitched was any indication.

"Do I need to tell you how many ways that could have gone wrong?"

No, and if he didn't reply, he had a feeling she would.

"Lennard is a professional. No masked woman will trip him up."

"Lennard is a rookie," she countered. "This is his first assignment. Dead gods, you put his entire cell at risk."

Olivia was being dramatic. If Miss Justiciar was that good, she would have caught him.

"Seeing as we're not in handcuffs," he said, holding his wrists out. "It's going fine."

He didn't need to be a mind mage to know she wanted to strangle him.

"Dumb luck," she said, delivering her verdict. "That it actually produced results is nothing but an anomaly."

It did what now?

She read his expression and followed up in a more subdued tone.

"I'll inform you later. We're not done with this."

They could agree on that.

"All I'll say is that beneath the chaos, there's a method to the madness."

Now, if someone could tell him what it was, he would be greatly appreciative.

"Therein lies our issue," Olivia began, taking on a lecturing tone. "Handlers are meant to anticipate their charges, preparing support in advance. We were deployed prematurely," she continued, pointing at his forehead. "And I'm not in there. From my perspective, you keep engaging in random and monumentally idiotic acts." Her finger shifted lower, aimed at his mouth. "That is what you should be using more of. Up until now, we've had our limitations, but with my newfound access, I expect a more consistent stream of communication."

Cal took a breath, closing his eyes. He counted to five and then reopened them. Placing both of his palms flat on the table, he stood.

"I need you to believe me when I tell you," he said, trying his best to convey his seriousness. "I already intended to do that."

Before his eyes, a transformation took place. The lines on her face eased, and a large smile blossomed on it.

"I'm certain you were," Emily said, her voice containing an infectious cheer.

There was a robbery taking place, and Cal was the victim.

"This is not me pretending it was my idea to make it easier to swallow," Cal said, providing much-needed clarity. "I even had this whole talk with Alice about… well, never mind about that. The point is, I'm more of a team player now."

Emily blinked upon hearing Alice's name, and when he saw her eyes next, they were a shade darker.

"In that spirit," Olivia drawled. "Is there anything else you need to inform me of?"

His mission was a failure. Olivia would forever live under the belief that he was a petulant child who needed to trick himself into following advice.

There were ways to prove her wrong, but Cal had a better idea.

"There's this," Cal said, retrieving the Wayfinder from his pocket and tossing it on the counter. "I haven't played with it for obvious reasons."

Olivia's back hit the shelf, jostling the rows of liquor. Her eyes were glued to the relic, regarding it like a dangerous animal.

"Callum," she said carefully. "What is that?"

That was an extreme reaction for someone who didn't know what they were looking at. Maybe he would keep the not-baby spirit to himself.

"It's called the Wayfinder, a relic meant to whisk people away from danger. Rolland brought it with us as a fail-safe. We ended up using it, but it sent us to the cabin. So it either has a sick sense of humor or it's broken."

Cal had been tempted to mess with it, but he wasn't that daring. For all he knew, it would send him straight back to the cabin.

"You stole an imperial relic," Olivia accused while remaining in place. "Do I want to ask why?"

Her tone told him she very much did.

"I didn't steal anything," Cal retorted. "They just haven't asked for it back."

Honestly, he was expecting Benny to mention it.

"They haven't asked for it back," Olivia repeated dumbly. "You're claiming the Empire hasn't asked for a priceless relic to be returned to them and is instead entrusting it to a student they hardly know."

Cal picked it up, watching how the needle wildly spun.

"Remember, I'm largely responsible for saving their asses from a demon and crazy spirit. That earns credibility."

There was also plenty going on. It was believable that something like a broken relic would fall between the cracks.

Right?

"You fought a spirit?" Olivia said flatly. "Why is this only coming up now?"

Huh. He could have sworn she already knew about that.

"Yeah, it said a bunch of wild things and attacked us. All things considered, it was pretty easy to deal with. Full disclosure, I didn't see it die. So there's a chance it's still out there plotting its revenge."

If it could teleport part of the old capital once, it might be able to do it again. However, he considered the odds of that happening as close to null.

"I realize you hospitalized a Finger last week," Oliva said, squeezing her eyes shut while pinching the bridge of her nose. "But trivializing an encounter with a spirit is something only a member of the Constellation could do."

It was a good thing he had a star then.

"The demon was a harder nut to crack. I had to chop my head off and blow up the rest of my body to deal with it."

Olivia's mouth parted, but no words came.

"That was in my file, right?"

He'd never had to resort to it during his missions with her, but his regeneration shouldn't be news.

Olivia.exe seemed to reboot, and her face shifted to a more familiar neutral.

"Extensively, yes. Along with your propensity for combustion."

Oh, good. There was no need to fill her in then. Come to think of it, there were some details he should pick her brain about.

"Cool. By the way, does the name The Watcher mean anything to you? I tried to kill him, but it didn't work."

Ideally, she'd know about what made him tick. That would make killing next time easier. Cal didn't like the idea of some cryptic maniac hanging around.

"You tried to kill," she said, her voice sounding strained. "The Watcher?"

Wasn't that what he just said? Cal spied the frozen bottle. Was she such a lightweight that two shots were enough to get her drunk?

"Yes," Cal confirmed. Her face turned ashen, which he found silly. "He helped summon a demon."

That alone was enough for a death sentence, so there shouldn't be an issue.

"Callum, is that the extent of your travels? Or did you encounter a resurrected god and fight them as well?"

He'd said it before, but Olivia had really missed her calling. She'd be much better suited as an actress.

"Not yet, but I'd put the probability of that happening at non-zero." That didn't seem to help things, and he decided to add some consolation. "Don't worry, I can take them."

Going off the remnants of them he'd encountered, the best he could do was stall. Even that would be precarious. Their powers simply didn't work like ordinary magic.

"I was being performative before," Olivia offered, her eyes straying to one of the frozen bottles. "But you're making me reconsider."

Would it be gentlemanly to thaw the bottles for her? Good thing he wasn't one of those.

"More power to you," Cal said, shrugging. "But I should tell you that I plan to meet with a retired assassin today. If you're not busy, you're free to tag along."

That didn't seem to improve her mood any.