The glass felt cool under his hand. He'd been a little hesitant to touch it so boldly but figured he could play it off as some accident.

His magic wormed its way through the ward coating the display case in front of him.

He was in the museum again, having headed here right after his normal classes had wrapped up for the day. He'd managed to not loiter too much on that statue and retraced part of his steps from before.

They'd passed this room quickly last time. The number of exhibits in it was low, but he appreciated the placement that had been done to present them.

There was a large polearm standing vertically in a corner, almost looking like a coat rack. Funnily enough, the corner opposite had an actual coat or something that could be worn as one. It was an embroidered robe, and based on his newfound knowledge, he was guessing it was more for ceremonial use.

Three frames adorned the walls. One was a portrait, while the others, placed on either side, were documents of some kind.

The penmanship of both varied, with the one on the left having elegant strokes, while the other was more blockish.

In front of one of the documents was a pen enclosed in its own display. It was prominently placed on a red velvet cushion. Presumably, it was what was used to sign them both.

A similar case was placed in front of the documents twin; only this one was holding a variety of seals and ribbons.

All of that, while intriguing, wasn't why he was in this room.

Ostensibly, he was here today to dig more into that other dealer, Charles Sapientios. Cultists or not, he wanted to get into his head. Not physically, as his fist had a habit of doing, but more figuring out how he thought.

It was not his strong suit, but he was hoping that the topic of the man's dissertation would shed light on him. Anything someone spent so long writing about had to have a hint of his motivation, right? Last time, he had gotten sidetracked, and he didn't like leaving things half-done.

This time he was being cautious, routinely scanning the area to make sure the fashion nerd wasn't anywhere near.

Though he wouldn't mind picking her brain about the political landscape a bit more; she seemed to have a better way of explaining things than Alice did.

She was also less likely to attempt to smother him with a pillow.

Not that Alice had tried that specifically, but he was fairly confident she'd give it a shot if he dozed off near her.

Cal realized Jessica had managed to lead him astray without even being present, and he refocused on his magic.

It was a similar experience to the last time he'd tried this at Petro's place. He'd long since gotten his magic through the invisible maze, and now he was attempting to figure out how to dismantle the ward altogether.

He had zero idea how to do that.

But the risks seemed low, so he was willing to give it a shot.

It was a shame that he'd already been caught. Given who it was, he'd continued as if he hadn't noticed.

Evidently, they did not share the same intent, and a voice piped up from the side.

"Callum," Rolland said, having dropped the illusion concealing him. "Despite my efforts, I don't think I managed to get past your senses." It was a close thing; if he wasn't scanning for Jessica, he might not have noticed. "So I must ask, why are you attempting to burglarize relics of my family's past?"

In fairness, if he thought the man would care, he would have stopped.

"You guys probably have hundreds of these things. Besides, I wasn't going to steal it."

Not yet, anyway.

"Perhaps, but since this was owned by my ancestor who oversaw the unification, it has some historical significance."

With the context, the room suddenly made a bit more sense. These were all items used during the treaty signing that made the Holy Enclave a vassal of the Empire.

He didn't dwell too long on why they would need a polearm for that.

"May I?" Rolland stepped forward, holding out his hand.

Cal withdrew his magic, stepping to the side.

The Crown Prince laid a hand on the glass for a moment before moving for the latch and opening the case.

As far as Cal could tell, no alarms had gone off.

Cal approached the now-open display, inspecting the ward again and finding it in a dormant state. A flash of irritation made itself known, but he quieted it down.

"Honestly, half of me was expecting you'd just smash the glass."

Part of him was even hoping for it.

"While I won't deny such an act would be amusing," Rolland's speech was slow, and he looked more thoughtful than offended. "I'm not sure what I've done to make you think I would do something so boorish."

Cal thought back, realizing it really wasn't the guy's style.

"The last time something like this happened, the other person just punched their way through it."

Rolland crossed his arms, rubbing his chin for a few seconds before he gave a solemn nod.

"Lilliane." It wasn't a question, and Cal returned the nod. "I suppose everyone has a type."

A knowing smile made itself at home on the man's face.

Dread welled up within him as Cal realized that if the Second Seat ever learned of this little rumor, he'd never hear the end of it. He'd have to kill the man, which meant he'd have to get through Aegis first.

As impossible a task as that sounded, it might have to be done if Oracle didn't learn to shut up.

But those were problems for later.

Cal reached out and grabbed the now exposed artifact.

"By all means, help yourself."

The scepter had some weight to it. There were intricate patterns carved into the body, providing some added grip. The head acted as a sort of halo, surrounding an ornate gem.

There was only one detail that concerned him at the moment. He grabbed it by the top and lowered it to the ground.

"Short," he muttered with a frown. "Oh well."

He lifted it back up and placed it back on the pillow.

"Not to your standards?" Rolland quipped.

He still sort of wanted it, but not to the extent he was willing to steal it for himself.

"Got anything longer? I'm looking for something that can be used as a cane."

Albert had had the same one for as long as he'd known the man. It hadn't occurred to him until the day after, but that scepter would have made an excellent cane if it was an appropriate length. With all the man had done for him, he was more than willing to devote some of his free time to check it out.

"Undoubtedly, but as far as I am aware, all the ones kept here are too short for that purpose…" The prince trailed off before continuing with what Cal thought might have been a hint of eagerness. "Should you wish, I can have a replica forged to a length you desire."

Cal paused, mulling the offer over.

"Nah." A replica didn't sound as cool. Albert deserved an original. "I'll find something else later. By the way, how's the coffee going?"

He was relying on that for Gerald's gift. Cal thought a cane was still a good idea for Albert, so he'd keep a lookout for one.

Millie had him stumped, and he wasn't even going to try and figure out what Mask might want.

"That's proving slightly troublesome," Rolland ventured, seeming at unease with the question. "Do you have any preferences?"

It would be nice if he could ring up the man they were for. In lieu of that, he had just one piece of guidance.

"Nothing anywhere near Sauratus' lands." It was difficult to forget how foul that bit of coffee Anne had served him.

Rolland's brow furrowed, and it took a moment before he responded.

"I seem to recall that's a new house, located to the north of here on the border. Part of the eastern block under Ferrum. I didn't know the beans grew there."

That was one of the factions Alice had told him about yesterday once they got back to their dorm. It was bundled into an explanation of why carelessly interacting with a royal was the height of foolishness.

Her words, not his.

Cal had listened to her lecture or rant with an open mind. However, after absorbing all the information, he determined it was dumb and resolved himself to keep interacting with these two as he always had.

"You were better off not knowing; trust me on that." Or don't; that would be funny too. Cal started walking down the hallway, entering the next room.

Predictably, Rolland followed in his wake.

The layout in this room was different, and he wandered toward a kite shield. This place could really do with more descriptive plate cards.

"How'd you break that so easily anyhow?" If he was determined to stick around, he might as well strike up a conversation with the man. "I didn't think they taught ward breaking in Prince 101."

Rather than respond directly, Rolland walked up to the case holding the kite shield. Flaunting his skill, he deactivated the ward and opened the display, waving Cal forward.

Cal rolled his eyes, continuing his walk through this wing.

"I've always had a penchant for opening doors," Rolland began to answer, having fallen into stride with him. "And while some would be readily opened on request for me, others I must force ajar myself, even if it threatens to break the frame." His tone shifted to something lighter, and he continued in an almost joking manner. "Or that's what I tell myself. Truthfully? It's dull to always have things done for you."

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

He kept his expression schooled, but internally he agreed wholeheartedly. Cal was generally okay with letting the professionals do their job, but he often found himself meddling in some way. It was usually to his detriment.

Although he had a feeling they weren't discussing ward breaking or physical doors.

"You know things would be far simpler if you just said what you meant."

He acknowledged his hypocrisy but felt the current situation justified it.

"Would they? By speaking this way, I allow people to hear what they wish. Their reactions inform me of their position without overly upsetting anyone." Cal gave him a side eye, not believing for a second that the prince did not enjoy ruffling people's feathers. "Of course, the real reason is selfish." Rolland paused in what Cal thought was an attempt to build suspense. "Once your true desires are out there, they are a weapon to be wielded against you. That is why many guard them close, and why you should always observe what people do instead of what words they may speak."

Actions spoke louder than words, duh. It also didn't escape his notice that he was being given another lesson. That seemed to be a growing trend.

Rolland's head tilted slightly, and his voice shifted to a more serious note.

"Though, if you truly believe in what you say, why not lead by example and tell me what you truly desire? Then I'll return the favor."

It didn't matter who the speaker was; Cal's answer was the same.

"I'm still figuring it out."

He could list any number of small things and some not so small, many of which he was actively working toward. Yet none of them felt right for this type of question

They walked in silence. Cal made a show of pretending to stop and be interested in some pieces, but at this point, he was going through the motions until he naturally came across the subject of the dealer's dissertation.

"I sense you are overthinking it," Rolland opined. "However, it does not appear untruthful, and so I will fulfill my piece. Right now, there is only one thing I want, and that is to look after my friend."

Ferguson's name didn't have to be said.

"I'm already on board with sneaking in our grades," Cal led with the positive. "But if you're asking about that other idea of yours, I told you that's a hard no."

Where was Benny when you needed him?

"Tell me, if you were in my place, would you not do everything in your power to aid him?"

Unquestionably. If Albert was off trying to get himself killed in the Waste he'd tear the whole thing apart looking for him. It wouldn't matter if the chances were slim to none; he wouldn't be thinking in terms of odds.

Huh.

Cal paused in his step before continuing.

This might be a problem. Not his specifically, as he was not responsible for making sure the future emperor didn't get himself killed.

But his death would create instability at a time when they desperately needed the opposite.

Cal, babysitter of royals and nations alike.

He'd never speak the words out loud, wary of being unironically given the title.

"He's strong and can handle himself." Cal played up Ferguson's strength in hopes of mollifying the prince. "Like I said before, focus more on that brother of yours."

It was a weak deflection, but it was the best he could think of.

"I fail to see how my relationship with him is of any concern to you," Rolland gave a measured response that earned him a raised eyebrow from Cal. "I'll admit surprise to learning of your interactions with him; however, you do realize what message that may send to others should they catch wind of it."

He did, but only as of last night.

"Then no one has to know. I'm not looking to get in the middle of some power struggle." Cal held a hand up, forestalling the rebuttal. "Not that there is one to begin with. I know what the official line is."

Which was that Rolland would be the next emperor and Sebby would be married off or something. Unofficially, two of the three dukes appeared to be lukewarm about the idea, and discussions may or may not be happening.

By speaking to Sebby, others might think he was getting his 'claws' into a future ruler and looking to improve his house's prospects.

Anyone who knew Cal personally would probably laugh at the idea. Well, no, they'd also yell at him for doing it in the first place.

Case in point, yesterday.

Well, that and apparently that particular dough was a nightmare to get out of hair and clothing alike.

"For the record, I believe the official account. I mean, why else would Benny play chaperone?" It was rhetorical, and Cal continued. "But you really should spend more time with the kid, and not as princes."

He stopped himself short from saying 'as brothers' because he didn't quite know what that would entail.

"Did it occur to you that we may be using this supposed divide to rout out dissent?" It didn't, and Cal shot Rolland a look, telling him exactly how he'd feel about that. "I can't speak for Father's exact intentions, but our upbringing was not uncommon for those of our line. I've seen more of Sebastian here than I ever did back in the palace."

Despite never having seen it, Cal decided he didn't like the palace.

"Then what's stopping you now?"

"I've made some attempts," Rolland admitted the smile long since gone from his face. "However, he harbors resentment given our respective positions. He's not like my sister, who happily recluses herself from the world. It isn't helped by some attempting to poison his mind. I'm fortunate enough he tolerates Benny."

Cal didn't detect any deceit. Were all family dynamics in the Empire messed up? Or was he just lucky enough to run into them?

Not that he was in any position to judge.

"That's enough on this topic," Rolland declared with an undercurrent of frustration. "Sebastian is not at risk. Ferguson is. The Waste has claimed stronger than him."

Probably, which is why chasing after him would be so idiotic.

"You're the Crown Prince; if there was ever a time to flaunt your authority, wouldn't it be now?"

He understood wanting to do everything yourself, but when Olivia had been taken, Cal had readily employed the star he'd been entrusted with.

Rolland gave him a sharp look, his face morphing into a frown.

"Did you already forget our previous remarks? What do you think would happen if I sent our elite forces into the Waste on what many would consider a fool's errand?"

Ah.

Cal looked at the man. Like always, not a hair was out of place, and his uniform was immaculately donned. On the surface, he resembled every part of the perfect prince.

Underneath was something all too familiar.

For all his power, he was helpless.

Cal shoved the thought aside, moving on.

"What about his daughter? If there's anyone that can bring him back, it has to be her."

There were better options, like Oracle, but on the Empire's side, she fit the bill.

"I've sent her a message; however, I've yet to receive a reply."

That was concerning. As much as he sympathized, his position largely remained the same.

"Then all you can do is wait," the words tasted foul coming off his tongue. "All you would do is get yourself and others killed if you try."

He was repeating words, and given they'd not gone through before, he doubted they would now.

"And if I offer to assist in covering up your murdering of a fellow student?"

Cal was very much not amused by being accused of something he did.

"Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about."

He wasn't sure what Rolland could do, but he didn't much care given one crucial fact.

Cal could whistle.

Sort of.

It was close enough.

"And if I propose the opposite?"

He was actually getting close to where the exhibit should be, and yet Cal stopped in his tracks.

"I maintain innocence," Cal opened. "But for argument's sake, what's one more? Right?"

Silver met red, and their eyes sought to determine how real the other's threats were.

Rolland broke first, some of the intensity draining from his face.

"Many things can be said about you, Callum Ardere, but do not let anyone ever say you have low resolve." Cal probably shouldn't have threatened to kill him, but context mattered, and he felt in the right. "Another reason I would like you to embark with me on this quest."

Hells. That was supposed to scare the guy off; why did he look almost downright giddy now?

Cal pulled out his phone, shooting off a text toward Benny.

"Fair warning; I told Benny to cuff himself to you. Might want to buzz off before he gets here."

It was the most effective solution he could think of.

To his chagrin, Rolland did not depart and continued following him.

Cal didn't waste much more time and swiftly entered the room where one of the pieces was held. He stopped at the painting, which took up an entire wall and even had benches placed for people to sit and admire it.

A dark figure was depicted in the air with a fist raised. Below was a smoldering city, with panicked people seen attempting to escape.

"Ernesto's depiction of Xerxes' rage," Rolland noted beside him.

Cal snorted.

Well, that was useless.

He would have written the entire day off if he hadn't come back to find a letter dangling by a thread from his bedroom ceiling.

The meeting had been set, and Cal was rather pissed.