“That is impossible.” Bob stated in the voice of a particularly aggravated boulder.

“But there’s no way we’re going to learn everything we need to!” a girl panicked.

“No, no.” a Qarai student said, trying to be optimistic. “It’s probably like partials. We… we won’t need to know everything. Surely.”

“This goes against school rules.” Bob said again.

“Are they mad? We’re, what, two months in our school year. Right?”

“|Date Check|. Yeah… 75 days since the opening ceremony to this day.”

“So, two months!”

“And two weeks.” Someone else completed the statement. “And we have another month until the exams, I guess.”

“That’s still three months! Yes, yes, and two weeks. Three and a half months of total study. We’re gonna fail. We’re all gonna-“

“This cannot stand!” Bob thundered and ventured forth, the students splitting like a sea before the angry Gaindel.

Oh, shit. Bob really cares about his education.

It should be mentioned that Michael cared about his education too. It was just that after the announcement had been made, his mind instantly went to the possible plots and motivations for a decision like that.

Bob, however, came to Gnosis to learn magic. To get an education. Which was probably why he was moving towards the Bloodlinked with an expression on his face like someone just proposed to burn all the books in Gnosis.

Michael hurried along. He knew Bob would be polite, but… this were the Bloodlinked. And the way they had formed ranks when they saw him coming bode ill.

“I demand to speak to whoever made this decision.”

“The decision was unanimous a Bloodlinked member said. And we do not accept demands.”

“Then I request.”

“Denied.”

Wow. Last time I saw the big guy this angry was back with the werewolf.

“Can the details of it at least be explained to us?” Michael asked. “We’re kind of in the dark here.”

The red-robed mages hesitated. Their hive-mind was probably in overdrive, so Michael guessed no one forbade them from discussing this, but no one told them it was alright to do either. He was about to try again, when a voice among them spoke out.

“I will provide relevant details.”

Something like a tremor passed through them, but a second later a Bloodlinked took a step forward.

“Pipo?” Michael asked, seeing the diminutive fellow.

“Yes. As thanks for your help to our members, I will answer all question I believe I can. This will not count against the boon we owe you.”

A collective gasp was heard.

Great, just speak it out in the open, why don’t you.

“Why was this done?” Bob asked, still furious.

“I will only discuss this with Mage Michael.”

His friend looked like he wanted to answer that, but Michael put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. They were too many of them here. And even outside the fact that the Bloodlinke were now in an alliance with two other major factions, they didn’t take nicely to aggression in the first place.

“May I ask why this decision was done.”

“I do not believe I am permitted to answer that.”

“Right. Uhm, this exam. It’s the final exam? Not a partial?”

“It’s the exam normally placed at the end of the school year.”

“So… we have to learn everything?”

“Yes.”

“Even if there is no time to do so? Or if the professors can’t physically teach that much in that short amount of time?”

“I believe so.” The halfling said after a moment. “Only the date of the exam has changed. Not the requirements.”

Michael… had to take a step back. He had no idea how to approach them. Yet, the hall was full of students, so five minutes later he was back with a list of questions and a workable approach to ferreting out surplus answers. Did he do that himself? No, but the student body was not without reach.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Brither and Amnea had organized a quick think-tank of students, for both strategy and Spells. Michael, was currently under the influence of no less than six Spells and five Skills, augmenting his intellectual ability, his charisma, his memory and his insightfulness.

He was ready to fight a word battle of the ages.

Which is when they came.

One of them was bare chested and still had small wounds on his body. Healing. On his back he carried a great sword and he walked like a general among soldiers. The other was shorter, slimmer, but no less imposing. An immaculate red robe complimented his brown skin and dark goatee.

The two leaders of their factions, Regitris the Martial and Agharal the Bloodlinked.

“Why have you answered him?” Agharal asked, addressing Pipo.

“The information carried no risk. Mage Michael helped our faction.”

“True. Yet I still needed to ask. Do you see why this is an issue?”

“No.” Pipo answered, but his voice wavered for the slightest bit.

“I should have already known why you answered. Instead, I had to ask. You are straining from us. Return to faction main chambers. Partake in the Ritual.”

Pipo looked like his legs started to move, but his torso hesitated.

“…sir. Is it alright to participate in the Ritual again after so little time?”

This time, Michael caught a hint of annoyance on Agharal’s face. His eyes flashed and when he spoke next it was to his faction, not Pipo directly.

“This is what contact with others before you are fully trained brings. Disruptions. The shattering of links. Mage Pipo will be accompanied by five others of our own to the Ritual. He will undergo a full session.”

Instantly, five Bloodlinked flanked Pipo and more or less dragged him away. Michael wanted to protest, but Agharal’s eyes were on him next.

“Do not interject.”

“I was just going to speak.”

“Speaking is an interjection.”

“Mage Agharal, I do not know-“

“I did not give you permission to use my name.”

Oh, you bloody motherfucker.

“And I sense your temper raising. Are you going to challenge me?”

Boon or not, Michael felt the looks of every Bloodlinked on him. It was like a physical pressure. He felt that if he had tried to cast magic, it would have only spluttered out.

And yet. The way Pipo was treated… oaths or not, that seemed a lot like coercion. He didn’t fight it, but it was a lot like he hadn’t fought Kelunad. And the halfling looked like he had even less to say in the matter. And that Ritual…

Fuck you and your brainwashed, cultist faction.

“No, Mage Agharal. Not now, at least.”

Something like amusement flickered over the man’s face, before it got sucked back into the melded pool of personalities that was their faction.

“Then, by your own words, there is a possibility of challenging me in the future. Bloodlinked are logical. We do not allow threats to ourselves, not even veiled ones. I will let this pass once and only because we are in an alliance with the Martials. Never again.”

And with that, he marched off, his entire faction trailing behind him. Michael was about to turn to his his friends, who had gathered around him in the interim, when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“We should talk.” Kelunad said.

Michael only nodded.

They went away, a wave of murmurs behind them and found a secluded room. A bevy of ward Spells later, Kelunad turned to him.

“I am sure you have questions.”

“You- You’re kidding, right? That’s the understatement of the century!”

“That is for the |Historians| to decide. Just know, that I will not answer them all. Not even most, if I intuit your thoughts correctly.”

“Then why– No. Fine. Why did you make me fight Alex?”

“You know why.”

“No, I don’t. I thought that fight was going to make him redeem himself.”

“You thought wrong. It was a simple test and he has failed it.”

“Alex is the thinking type of Martial. Isn’t that what you want of them? Aren’t you rational?”

“You mistake thought with balance. Rationality, as you put it, is desired. Needed. But not at the expense of what makes as Martials. And though Mage Alex greatly desires to lead, by his own admission, he doesn’t desire to fight.”

“To fight.” Michael repeated.

“To fight.” Kelunad nodded. “Himself and others. To improve. You thought him balanced, because you only ever saw the other extreme. But in his case, one came at the expense of the other. It is adventure he seeks. Command. Not the pure fight which forges a Martial.”

Michael was about speak again, but Kelunad had one last comment.

“Or do you think he is truly like me?”

…fine.

“So, me winning and being dubbed a Martial wasn’t in your plan? Because that was mightily convenient seeing how it led to your fight with Regitris. And that’s what you really wanted, don’t lie!”

“I don’t lie. Not when I don’t need to, in any case. Yes, it was convenient for me. But, know this. I may not be a |Mastermind|, yet I can still make plans. Any general has to know how. And I have made many. Did your fight with Alex lead to me fighting Regitris? It did. Would I have fought him regardless? I would have. Did I have secondary plans? I did.”

“That’s… insane.”

“That is proper planning.” The orc shrugged. “I did not lie, Michael. I do believe you are a true Martial. I only forced you to be one for appearance’s sake, because it started the chain of events I wished it did. But I think of you as one of mine regardless of your decision, more than most among my faction.”

“I don’t exactly have your desire for ‘continuous fighting’.” Michael commented.

“Don’t you? It depends what you think of as a fight. I think you do. And I am often right.”

“Fine. Alex is nor a Martial, I’m an honorary one and you’d have fought Regitris anyway. Why?”

“I will not answer that.”

“Was it because of me? To change my Class?”

“I will not answer that either.” He said, but he was wearing a slight smile as he did.

“Or is to find something out about me?”

“Still no.”

“Is it because that business on the upper floors? Regitris told me.”

“I imagined he would. And no. I do not break from repeated questions, I hope you know that.”

It was like talking to a wall. A wall that stood there and superiorly looked down on you. Like a few walls in Gnosis, actually.

“Alright. Then… Sinestra. That whole business with her. What was it about?”

He was no longer smiling now. He just looked… reserved. Maybe sad?

“I will not answer this either. And I would ask you to stop asking.”

“Then what will you answer?”

The orc considered him and moved forwards a step.

“Times are changing, Michael. For the better or the worse… even I do not know. But they are changing and the entire Academy will change with it. Events are already in motion and I will ensure they stay that way. Which is why I have come to talk with you. You have a talent for interfering, Michael. But for what is about to come, do not interfere.”

Kelunad had gone cold and serious.

“I think you as a true pupil. A true Martial as well. I cannot teach you during this time, but I will, after it is all set and done. If… No. I will. But know that I cannot protect you if meddle.”

“Protect me? Protect me from what?”

The orc simply smiled and turned around, dispelling the wards.

“Wait.” Michael called out. “That… the machine. You’re going to use it, aren’t you? Or try to, at least. What are you planning?”

He didn’t turn around again. But he did speak.

“Don’t interfere.”