“This damned…!”

Castor slammed his fist down at his table as soon as he could be sure that damned smart-ass of a cadet had left not only the room but the area of the corridor from where he could hear the noise.

“Your true personality is leaking,” Gazen muttered while rolling his eyes as he stood by the window and looked out, either adoring the nature, praying to the Pure, or looking out for possible ambushes. “Get a grip.”

“Tsk,” Castor clicked his tongue before taking in a deep breath, leaning back on his chair and then hanging his head as far to the back as he could. He held his breath for a moment before slowly breathing it out, only allowing his head to return back once not a single bit of air remained in his lungs. Only then, when he took a fresh breath, did the camp’s intendent allow his eyes to pry open again, right as his face returned to its usual cheerful mask.

“I’m fine now,” Castor said, a hint of calculative coldness appearing in his eyes as he leaned over his desk, placing his elbows atop it only to cup his hands and then press them against his mouth, as if to hide it away. “Then again, just thinking about that bastard…”

Castor’s voice grew slightly louder, only for the man to then take another deep breath, bringing his emotions back into a controlled state.

“How come he came so prepared? It’s not like there were any hints for him before the ceremony! And those runes…” Castor shook his head. “Are you really sure they were real?” he asked, turning his head to take a look at the Purity Inquisitor.

“Oh, they were real,” Gazen smiled as he spoke. “Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t active, but…” He shrugged his shoulders, unbothered by the whole event in the slightest, “they were real. Even if he couldn’t really use them.”

At this point, Gazen squinted his eyes before directing them outside the window again, as if searching for some clues for the question he held in his head out in the absolute and pure randomness of nature.

“Oh, and if he got under your skin so much, why did you play along with his requests? Aren’t you an academy big-shot? Surely, even if he flaunted protocols in your face, there had to be something someone of your station could do to sabotage him…?”

Hearing this, Castor threw his friend a fiery gaze.

“Why didn’t I do that, I wonder,” he summed up Gazen’s whole point in a sarcasm-overflowing voice, only to then roll his eyes and slam his hand against his precious desk again. “Maybe because I was under the fucking impression that he was recording it all?!”

Castor looked away from the inquisitor’s figure and took another breath…

“Shit!”

He slammed his hand at his desk again, this time heavily enough to leave a permanent dent on its surface.

“If you knew, why didn’t you tell me so? Or indicate it somehow?! Fuck!” Castor raised his fist to slam it against his desk for the fourth time, only to stare at a drop of blood sliding down his fist’s outline before dropping down right where he had damaged the desk just before. “Fuck…” he muttered as his voice lost all of its power, his hand powerlessly dropping down back to the desk, making the man look like a deflated balloon, “he played us exactly how he wanted to, didn’t he?”

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“Oh, you are the one who failed to see through any of his tricks. Don’t bunch me up with the likes of you,” Gazen commented, turning his face just enough for his friend to be able to catch his smirk. Yet, after holding his smile for a short moment, Gazen then shook his head as he sighed. “To tell you the truth, though, I don’t think I’ve figured all of his tricks either. I just happened to be well-versed in the runic writing he used, so I could recognize some odd points, allowing me to connect the dots. As for everything else, though…”

Gazen shook his head.

“I don’t even think I’m qualified to try to figure that kid out, you know?”

Those words left Castor stunned, his eyebrows raising high enough on his face to reveal just how flabbergasted he was by such high praise coming from his friend’s mouth.

“To hear you say something like this about a mere cadet…” Castor squinted his eyes. “Doesn’t that make him a prime suspect of an actual, high-class spy?”

Contrary to the huge and all-over-the-place reactions of his friend, Gazen merely rolled his eyes.

“And would a spy like that resort to painting fake runes on his wrist, just because something didn’t happen as he expected it to be?” Gazen shook his head. “To be honest, if those runes were true and active…” For the very first time, the inquisitor held his words back, hesitating for a while whether to leave them unsaid or to make the commitment of voicing them out. “If those runes were true, I would’ve killed him right here and now, consequences be damned. I would rather rot in the tower for a few months than let another one of those fuckers get into the academy, but…”

Once again, Gazen held back his words as he turned away from the window and raised his hand to rub his chin, a gesture that quickly evolved into him biting the nail of his thumb.

“That guy…” Once again, he cut his sentence in its middle. This time, however, he didn’t hesitate or doubt whether or not his words were worthy of actually turning them into reality. He simply struggled to find the right words for what he meant. “That guy was just too weird for me to figure out. He knew the high investigative runes and could paint them better than most experts, yet lacked the ability to actually use them? He knew the protocol and procedures enough to outclass an old-time quill-driver in a match of legislative wits? And there was this matter that made you call for me, what was that again?”

Castor squinted his eyes a bit, patiently listening to his friend’s rant, knowing full well Gazen would rarely throw his words out to the wind for no reason.

“When I… No, when we first spotted him…” Contrary to his friend, Castor had no qualms about cutting his sentences short. Just like his true face, his true self was much better at writing words than spelling them out, even if it was something no one who knew his official persona would ever be able to guess. “Actually…” Castor shook his head before raising it up a bit. “Uriel! Come inside!”

Like a perfectly trained and disciplined soldier, the young noble designate wasted no time in following the command, pushing the doors open and then stepping inside within a single second from Castor shouting his command.

“Uriel reporting, Camp Intendent!” Standing at attention with his chin raised and his fist slammed against his heart, Uriel stretched out as much as he could while daring not to look down at his temporary master or the high-key guests of his.

“Tell us, what was the thing that you noticed about the cadet we invited just before?” Castor asked, waving away Uriel’s formalities with no desire to respond in a way he was actually supposed to.

“That’s…” Uriel dared to look down at his master before stealing a quick glance at the Purity Inquisitor beside him. He then raised his chin again as he looked up, all the while gulping his saliva down as his face tensed up a bit. “He stank of monster miasma, sirs!”