Alistair sat outside the Provost Weaver’s office with his head hung. He had pushed it too far, he knew it, and now, Alistair was certain there would be consequences.
“Just stop,” he whispered to Ghost, who continued to berate him in his head.
What was taking them so long? Professor Humboldt had been the one to escort him. How long had he been in the Provost’s waiting room now, twenty minutes? Thirty?
Ghost: Pull yourself together. You did what needed to be done. Fuck Laertes.
Alistair: What if I get expelled?
Ghost: Is that a bad thing? You know how to use Resonant Mana now. Unless they can wipe your memory… I didn’t consider that. If they do try to wipe your memory, I will handle them. Or we will. Lionel, my sword—
Alistair: You’re not going to murder-escape the Lumina Battledeck Academy!
Ghost: Why not? You have a portal in your room. All we need to do is make it there. They won’t be able to easily track us in Solaria. Sure, Humboldt has powerful summons—at least one powerful summon we know of—but like Lysander, all of these people can die. That’s the advantage of the sword. It is a great equalizer.
Alistair: Or, I could just tell them the truth. All the shit I’m going through. The fact that an assassin lives in my head. The people I’ve killed. The conspiracy. My weekend plans. All of it. Even if you get through Humboldt, the Provost…
Alistair remembered the first speech Provost Weaver had given them where she said she was an Invoker who had served on the front lines. There was no telling what the powerful mage was capable of.
Ghost: Or, you could get your Dracolich dagger now, turn it around, and stab it in your chest in front of them. Free yourself of me. How about that? Because what you just said there is going to ruin our plans anyway, so you might as well get it over with.
Alistair: Our plans?
Ghost: I’m not the only one putting on my hero pants here.
Alistair: Hero? You said it yourself in the beginning that you don’t care about the fate of our kingdom. You’re in it for yourself, for your revenge.
Ghost: Let me spell it out for you again, Alistair: we do this, we follow my plans, we save the Dawncrest Kingdom and I get my revenge. We don’t, and you might as well get used to some weird shit happening around here because things are going to go dark real quick.
Alistair: You don’t know that.
Ghost: I do. When we go to the Dracolich Empire. You’ll see. Next weekend. But first, Humboldt and the Provost. Deep breath, tighten your overcoat, be proud of how badass your performance was and be especially proud of the fear your performance put into your peers or let’s get out the dagger and off ourselves now. Actually… whatever happens next, we could test the true power of the Card of Rumors.
Alistair: What do you mean?
Ghost: If they expel us, use the card to come back when we want. Start a rumor that you have been reinstated. I’m just thinking out loud here but that sounds like an excellent option to me. We still have that third rumor, too. So much debauchery to be had, such little time.
The door in front of Alistair popped open on its own.
Humboldt yawned on the other side. “Blackstar. Come on in.”
Ghost: Don’t forget. If shit goes sideways we won’t have much time to act. But your summons will help. Your first target will be the Provost. I’ll grab my dagger from Lionel and stab Humboldt in the neck. Or we take him hostage. Or—
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“Hello,” Alistair said awkwardly as he sat down in front of Provost Weaver, Humboldt on his right.
“And I take it you are feeling better?” the Provost asked, the expression on her face hard to read.
Alistair gulped. “What?”
“You were injured by your fire spell as well.”
He looked down at his hand, which was bright pink. He had been hastily healed by the Seraph’s Rest staff. “It’s fine.”
“You’ll go to the Rest after this to further repair it,” Humboldt said.
Juno: Bro. What’s happening? Zola is pissed that we were disqualified, but you know I don’t give a fuck. You know that. Who cares about a tournament anyway? My sis says there are tons of tournaments later on if we want to partake against other academies. So I personally don’t care. But Zolski is friggin’ fuming. Speaking of fumes. You nearly burned Laertes butt-ugly face off. His long blond hair is fucked now, can’t fix that at the Rest. Shit was wild. Bro-bitch was screaming like a little baby. Wah! Wah!
Alistair: I’m in the Provost’s office.
Juno: What? Hell no. Not great. If you need me to do anything, let me know.
“Yes?” Humboldt asked Alistair as he briefly pondered what it was Juno could actually do.
“Yes, what? Sorry, distracted by messages, sir.”
“You’re supposed to be paying attention now, of all times.”
“Juno and Zola,” Alistair said, even though she hadn’t messaged him.
“Be here now, Blackstar.” Humboldt yawned. “You’re in the Provost’s office.”
Alistair turned back to the woman, who continued to stare at him deeply. She spoke: “Professor Humboldt, I would like to speak to Alistair alone. You are dismissed.”
“Dis—” Humboldt went from the start of a protest to a yawning shrug. “Actually, that doesn’t sound so bad. I still have the afternoon tournaments to handle.” He stood, smiled at the Provost one last time, and saw himself out without another word.
“I wanted to talk to you alone,” Provost Weaver said as she leaned back in her chair and looked at Alistair over the rim of her glasses.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Alistair, what you did today is grounds for expulsion. You could have killed Laertes.”
Ghost: After all the shit that has gone down in this pitiful tournament, they’re worried about a partially charred rich kid? He’s healed by now. He hasn’t learned his lesson, because bully-fucks like that never do, but at least his life was sparred.
Alistair: Will you shut up? She’s talking to me!
The Provost continued: “I am aware that Laertes has caused you trouble in the past.”
“You know about that?”
Once again, the Provost looked at him over the rim of her glasses. “I know almost everything that happens here. How has Halor’s book treated you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you and your friends crack the code?”
Alistair cleared his throat. “We figured something out, if, um, that’s what you mean.”
“Halor was a devious one. Even so, I am quite fond of her, which is why I normally keep the book with me. I’m fond of her secrets. Sometimes, secrets are the only thing keeping our glorious kingdom from crumbling. However, I will take the book back tonight. Please turn it into the Wraithen Archives once you leave here and before you return to Seraph’s Rest.”
“Understood.”
“Let’s look at your status together.”
Provost Weaver lifted a finger and Alistair’s information appeared the two of them before he could say anything:
Name: Alistair Blackstar
Grade: Fledgling, Level Fourteen
STR: 18
DEX: 18
CON: 17
{Summons}
Sprite Class Ethereal Ripple Slime, Level Seven
Sprite Class Nightflutter Faeling, Level Eight
Sprite Class Strigursus Onikuma, Level Six
{Skills}
Thick Skin, Level Three
Gem Gaze, Level Three
Dragon Claw Swipe, Level One
Cryptic Endurance, Level Two
Void Punch, Level One
{Wandbound Spells}
Mistmeld, Level Three
Aerial Burst, Level Two
Shimmer, Level Two
Eclipse Claw, Level Two
Dimensional Gate, Level One
Shadow Play, Level One
Flame Kissed, Level One
Touch of Grace, Level Two
Lightning Firestorm, Level One
Overture, Level One
{Resonant Enchantments}
Card of Rumors, 2/3
Feather of the Phoenix, 1/1
Umi Hoshi Kraken, Level 49
Alistair’s eyes bulged at the last bit of information. Could she actually see it?
Provost Weaver looked at him firmly. “You have a Level 49 Umi Hoshi Kraken. Odd, I don’t think Halor would have hidden something like that. The Card of Rumors and the Feather of the Phoenix, while incredibly rare, are indeed something she would stash away. But not a Kraken. The only person I knew that had a Kraken was Professor Lysander. Tell me, Alistair, what actually happened to Professor Lysander, and why do you have his favorite summon in your deck?”