"Do you not have anything better to do?"

The Spirit, in all its emaciated glory, complained in a weakened voice.

Cal had left the impromptu not-lunch meeting with a mixture of emotions. He was antsy, wanting to wrap everything up before things truly spiraled out of control. But he was also cognizant that being rash was how he'd gotten into this situation.

Justified or not, he could have handled it better. Both with Petro and his little march on HQ. Ramming his way through things, while satisfying, tended to bring unwanted implications.

With all of that in mind, he sat through the remainder of his classes before booking it towards the registration building.

Both to touch base with the Spirit and to blow off some steam.

"I told you, I'm taking an order." Cal tapped a pencil against his writing pad. "So what's your favorite flavor?"

It leveled a long and withering gaze toward him. Cal merely began doodling on the pad.

He was winning this.

"We are going to regret asking this; what asinine task are you after now?"

Rude. He was just trying to be nice.

"With your birthday coming up, I wanted to bake you a cake."

Contrary to what others may have presumed, Cal was deadly serious. He was actually pretty excited about it. Cakes he'd baked plenty of, but birthday cakes?

Never.

Logically, he knew the difference to be just a name. But logic could go fuck itself; it felt like more, and so it was more.

"We do not know what offends us more. The belief that we would ingest something created by you mortals, or that you claim to know the date of our birth."

Spirits didn't eat? Everyone went through phases, he supposed.

"I'm talking about Founding Day; wouldn't that be your birthday? You said you were the Academy."

Cal felt he'd pieced that together pretty well.

The pressure ramped up without warning, and he was nearly popped like a balloon.

"Founders Day," it gritted out, and the smokey surroundings undulated erratically. "Not, Founding Day. And that holiday is woefully misnamed."

Weren't those the same things? Whatever the case, the Spirit clearly didn't feel that way.

"Alright, alright," Cal called, placing the notepad in his pocket. "No need to get so worked up."

That seemed to be enough, and Cal shunted the extra power he'd called back into the void. He couldn't say he'd expected that reaction, but he was always ready to throw down around this thing.

"Have you had enough fun yet? Or do you intend to continue badgering us?"

The latter, actually.

"To be clear, that's a no on the cake?" Cal asked with a tone of disappointment.

He had planned to go all out. Without being able to enter the Waste, he would not be able to find that cow again, but he could grow the wheat himself. That should have added a big enough kick to make the Spirit enjoy it. It would also have the nasty side effect of being downright poisonous to the average person, but it wasn't for them.

"Ask us that again at your own peril."

Cal reflexively opened his mouth. It hung open for a moment before closing. It was hard to resist, but evidence to the contrary conveniently ignored, he could be an adult when the situation called for it.

"Very touchy today," Cal shot off before moving on to the important stuff. "Anything on your end happen? I've been dealing with you know what, so I've not been as attentive as I should have been."

With multiple suspects to go after, Cal had opted to focus in on one at a time. Romero was the oldest of the bunch; he seemed the most likely to be in any position of note.

From what little Cal had been able to observe, the guy really didn't seem special. He was hoping the Spirit, with its greater ability to snoop, would have garnered more.

"Had you not shown us the cores, we would believe you to be wasting our time." That wasn't a great sign. "You've picked some of the most boring individuals on campus to monitor."

Boring did not tend to equal cultist. But then again, he wasn't exactly dealing with a run-of-the-mill demon summoning. If anyone could pull off a grand demon summoning, this world would have been torn apart long ago. Well, more than it had already been.

No, the perpetrators had to be clear-headed. Which meant they had actual, if perhaps bad, reasons for doing what they did.

That sounded dangerously close to politics, and Cal was wishing he could go back to problems he could punch away.

"Right, well, I've been thinking about what they'd need to pull it off." The logistics were just as, if not more, important as the culprits. "I know we've talked about the pentagram, but what about the candles? They're going to need a lot of those."

When it came down to it, summonings were rather simple to set up. All you needed were a few key ingredients.

Sacrifices. Willing victims preferred.

Pentagrams. It had to be drawn in magically infused material. Cal had seen non-human blood versions, but they were rare.

Candles. Made out of beasts or human fat.

Cores. They were not strictly needed, but most required an extra boost to pierce the veil between worlds.

What tripped people up was the final ingredient.

Knowledge.

How to draw the pentagram. Where to place the candles? What chants to sing?

Let alone how to direct the magic itself.

Cal had seen more than most, and even he would be doing complete guesswork.

If there was one single point all nations could agree on, it was that demons were bad business and any knowledge of how to contact or summon them should be promptly burned.

In the past, Cal had tried to pry that information from a bevy of sources. He thought there was a good reason behind his quest, but a few simple words were enough to make him realize how misplaced his efforts were.

"We've been watching their beasts closely. Both the ones of burden and those they slaughter. If there is any buildup, it won't pass our eyes. The Academy itself consumes large volumes of materials, but those entry points are well known by us as well."

Cal chose not to point out how it had missed the cores.

"I've been thinking about the tunnels. You know, the ones you didn't tell me about?" When that didn't garner a reaction, he continued. "Is there any chance they link into the city? That might be how they get what they need."

Eerily, its skin was pulled taut as it gave a wretched smile.

"If they are able to accomplish that, then they would have succeeded where even gods failed."

In his personal opinion, humanity had surpassed them in a variety of ways. Particularly in their resolution of domestic disputes. After all, he'd never heard of someone putting a hole in the world after finding their wife sleeping around.

"You can't drop that and not expound a little," Cal pointed out. "Throw me something. I'm dying of thirst over here."

A single drop touched his nose, heralding a torrential downpour of rain. He crossed his arms, giving the Spirit a look conveying he was more disappointed than mad.

Whether that worked or not was anyone's guess, but the Spirit's voice soon sounded.

"Traces of my creator still roam the halls of the Academy. Misplaced items, doors changing their locations, mirrors winking at students—it all made running this place near impossible. We had to use our full strength to banish his influence to the lower levels. It still leaks from time to time."

Was that so?

After marking the tunnels he'd mapped, he didn't generally check them again. If he did, would they still be there? Mia seemed confident enough when using them.

"I didn't realize their power still persisted. It has to be pretty potent."

The Spirit started to laugh; it began somewhat pleasant only to turn uglier and uglier before dying.

"Humans have forgotten their work; we have not. Their words were laws in of themselves. That magic you hold so dear is squandered on your lot."

Eh, it was probably true. Still, it came off hollow when Cal remembered how much magic he'd siphoned off this thing. It had shitty control, so who was it to really judge?

"So if you were created by Amir," Cal felt safe in making that assumption based on the effects it listed. "Is that day considered your birthday?"

The glower returned, and Cal shrugged.

"Look, if you don't want to talk about this, maybe you should be doing a better job at peeping on those guys and gal. Be useful."

"If you are that curious, then yes. It both is and is not our birthday, as you would say." Cal really couldn't blame them for thinking this thing must be senile. "And if you wish us to be useful, we may try ridding the world of you again."

While some people would count that as being useful, Cal didn't consider their opinions valid.

"Any time, buddy, any time." Cal casually responded. At this point, it was more of a game than anything. Sensing he'd reached the limits of his interaction with the Spirit, he stretched and prepared to depart. But he didn't want to go back to the dorm yet. "Well, I'd like to be productive. What are the others up to?"

He would avoid spooking them, but if it proved convenient, he could spy from a distance.

"The girl is in class, arguing with a classmate over a group assignment." No dice on that then. "The boy is doing what he always does, sitting in that farce of a building. A museum they dare call it."

The Spirit spat on the ground, which Cal presumed was for performative purposes. He didn't pay its antics much mind, focusing on what it'd said.

"Wait." Cal could not remember the last time he'd been to one, but fond memories bubbled from deep within him. "What museum?"

"It's nothing of note." The Spirit spoke in a dismissive tone. "It only covers the post-Fall period of reconstruction. Nothing of the grandeur of ages past."

That was his preferred part. Cal gave zero shits about the gods and their supposed utopia. He'd stomped past what was left of it plenty of times.

The reconstruction was a different story. He'd been hopeful to learn something new but had found the textbooks filled with blatant propaganda.

A museum, though, that seemed more real.

----------------------------------------

Finding the museum had been trivial. It wasn't quite on what he'd call the main campus boulevard, but it was just one branch off. He'd actually passed by it several times before.

Ryan had even pointed it out during their tour. Although calling it a place where they stored old stuff was disingenuous.

By campus standards, the facade was nothing out of the ordinary. At a mere three stories, the building looked to have been built wide to compensate. Rows of large windows gave hints as to what was inside while presenting a pleasant-looking exterior. He'd barely made it past the modest archway covering the entrance when something caught his attention.

The room he found himself in provided multiple ways forward. There were the two side entrances for access to the wings of the building, the spiral staircase leading to the upper floors, and a single doorway straight ahead that looked to be for staff.

It wasn't the paintings or tapestries coating the walls that caught his eye. Nor was it the mosaic laid out on the floor, which was made out of small tiles that, when put together, formed a map of the current Empire.

No, what dragged him forward was what sat in the center. The staircase coiled around it, allowing visitors to see its full height, which was something like two and a half stories.

Cal traveled up the stairs slowly, placing his hand on the railway and inspecting every inch of the object. He made it up to the top floor and stopped at the ledge directly in front of his current intrigue.

It was a statue made of, or gilded in gold. He suspected the former with how these people liked to spend. He didn't pay that much mind, caring much more about its muse.

The twenty-first Emperor, if the plaque at the base was to be believed.

He frowned, leaning up against the railing to get a better look. Every visit by trolley to the city had him at least sparing a glance toward that statue in the square. Since the first time he'd seen it, there was just something about it that drew him in.

This…wasn't that. As far as he could tell, it was a hunk of overpriced metal. The one in the city, despite being made of the same material, felt like more. Was this the difference an artist could make? Cal would never claim to have a discerning eye regarding those things.

He stared long and hard at it, trying to reconcile the two. Cal couldn't say why it bothered him so much.

"Hiding away?" A voice piped up, followed by the sounds of steps headed his way. "You've picked a suitable local for it."

Cal pushed off the bar, turning to meet the newcomer. Jessica stood with a hand on her hip, bangles around her arm jingling at the movement. In her other, she clutched a book against her chest.

"More curious than anything, this place seems pretty well cared for. You're saying it doesn't get much use?"

There hadn't been a single spec of dust he'd been able to spot. It would be a shame if this place just sat here unused.

Jessica shook her head, the long blonde hair swaying.

"I did not mean to imply that. There is little casual usage, but the Junior years often have mini trips here. They made lessons far more engaging, much better than being seated at a desk for hours on end."

That must have been a nice change of pace for them. It also meant that at this time of day not many people would have reason to be here.

Charles Sapientios, one of the dealers, had a reason. He was writing a dissertation based on some of the pieces housed here, if the Spirit were to be believed. Cal planned to naturally make his way through the museum until coming upon them.

"Come to think of it, there is another reason some visit here." She brought her free arm up, tapping her chin with a finger. "Although they only do so once, the caretakers are rather harsh about ejecting them. I hope you are not waiting for company."

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Cal looked at her sly smile, trying to parse what she was getting about. Then he remembered who he was talking to and groaned.

"Do we people really do that here?" Cal asked while looking around; it seemed far too open. He could understand the more adventurous sorts attempt to have that type of scandalous meetup in the library, but here as well? "Never mind, I really don't want to know."

He didn't even bother pointing out that the rumors centering on Lily and him were baseless. Words were wasted on the deaf.

"Truthfully? I've only heard it said and never had the misfortune of stumbling firsthand into it." Her voice went up a pitch, and the smile grew. "Speaking of things I've heard, would you like to know something interesting?"

No, he would not. But it couldn't be worse than finding out he was partly responsible for creating a geopolitical misunderstanding.

"Hit me," he stated bluntly, earning a disturbed look from her. "I mean with words, not your fist."

A look of relief came over her.

"Oh good, my combat scores are middling at best." Why did she act like that was the only thing stopping her? "I'm sure your friend." Cal ignored the way she said 'friend'. "Has told you, but I hear tell her fiance is visiting the city sometime soon."

William whats-his-face? Cal shrugged, giving her an unimpressed look.

"Then I'll be sure to give him a wide berth. Lily can deal with him." That was firmly on her side of the fence. "But this is the first I'm hearing of it."

On the off chance Lily was downplaying their engagement, then things would get awkward if he had a Finger up in his face. A heads-up would have been nice.

"I learned of it recently. You remember Harold?" The name was faintly familiar. "His cousin works closely with someone whose brother is part of The Myriad's detachment."

That was his name? Lame.

He'd ask Lily, but he was ready to write off this game of telephone.

"Thanks," Cal questioned whether he should be thankful, but he supposed she was trying to be considerate. Maybe. Most likely she was seeking confirmation for the rumor. "What brings you here anyway?

Cal would have presumed she liked a more lively area. But he was making large assumptions there; he didn't know her that well.

"To this spot? I heard a strange sound and thought to investigate its source."

That would have been his whistling. When it came to his skill in sound magic, he could do two things. Raise the volume, or deafen it. He was very good at both but was now looking to expand his range.

It was a logical step needed to copy his impersonation target.

Unfortunately, it wasn't a common brand of magic, and he wasn't about to check out books related to it.

Briefly, he considered whether tearing out his own tongue would speed up the process. No, that was clearly a dumb idea.

Or was it…

There was a small voice in his head telling him that was probably how the Whatever Death honed his craft.

Cal shoved that voice into the corner and made it wear the dunce cap.

"I was drying out my mouth." He gave the dumbest response he could muster. "And you know that's not what I meant."

She hummed, beginning to walk backward with the book and both arms held behind her.

"Would you like to find out?" She didn't wait for a reply and spun, turning her back on him. She hummed a tune as she strolled. "Follow then. Though be warned, many before you have regretted those steps."

Options. Cal had options.

Why did it feel like he was stuck taking the same ones?

His feet carried him forward, wanting an answer to this little mystery she'd spun. Several exhibits caught his eye, and he took notes of things he might want to go back to.

In particular, a scepter caught his eye. It was cumbersome and gaudy, but he kind of wanted it. He wondered what type of anti-theft protections this place had.

He passed through several doorways when he found Jessica waiting for him.

"What do you think?" She asked, waving an arm across the room. "The best exhibit in the building. It was put together by an upperclassman who used to be in my club before graduating."

Lining the walls was mannequin after mannequin, each one wearing a different type of attire.

The changes were subtle when comparing one to its neighbor, but once you started skipping a few, they became far more pronounced.

"Is this the evolution of dress in the Empire?"

The model to his right was similar to what he'd seen teachers don on occasion, while the one on his left was alien. It wore leather sandals on its feet and a tunic over its torso. A coarse fur mantle covered its back, looking out of place.

"Thank you." She nodded, a look of relief on her face. "You would not believe how many people need that explained to them."

Really? It seemed obvious from where he was standing. They were probably just not interested in this area. Old weapons and pieces of artwork did better to catch the imagination.

"Do you just hang out here then?" It wasn't exactly his cup of tea, but it did give an insight into how they lived. "Weird place to do it."

She didn't respond, and Cal paced closer to the model on his right. The toga appeared to be of good quality; he reached out and lightly touched the material.

It was silk.

A sharp sound was heard from his side, and Jessica stood with a disapproving frown.

"These may be replicas, but please don't touch them."

Ah, right. That was a bit obtuse of him.

"Sorry, just thought it was a bit high class for refugees."

The grin found its way on her face again.

"These were the first generation of survivors." Contrary to what she'd just told him, she directed him to feel the next one's tunic. He did so, finding it rougher. "For many, their only constant was the clothes on their back. But they came from paradise, and what they wore was not made for the harsh climate that came after; they had to learn to kill and skin the beasts who hunted them. Look down the line. We lost the capability to craft such fine tunics, but we gained the knowledge of how to properly process furs."

That may have been true for the Federation; they had no great bastions or walls to defend them.

As for the Empire...

"Didn't the royal family ride it out in the capital? Not to mention this whole city."

Hundreds of millions snuffed out, while the leaders of the Empire sat safely in their castles. Well, that was the tagline the Federation repeated.

"In a way, you're not incorrect. But that's an oversimplification. The capital was not a proper city but a summer palace; aside from our great ancestor, not many were present. As for the city, well, it was not named Last Light for nothing."

Implying all the others had been snuffed out. It wasn't accurate. The City of Tuscon on the eastern length of the continent was the most flagrant example. There were initially others as well, but once those who'd lost their homes faced those who didn't? Blood was shed more often than not.

Cal nodded in agreement; everyone had it hard.

Under her expectant look, he slowly made his way around the room. As he initially noticed, some of the changes were subtle. What he had missed was the rate of change. It started off at a steady pace, but midway through they crawled to a near halt. They looked to have made it to finally tailored shirts and decided to keep them the rest of the way.

"Are there some missing?"

Either that or some of these were added for numbers alone.

Jessica's eyes darted around, seeming to confirm no one had snuck up on them. She came up to his side and leaned in close.

"It's not an official piece and thus has no name," she said in a hushed voice. "But its creator named it 'Complacency'. Apt no?"

Cal had nothing to say to that, and she took note of it with an appraising look in her eye.

"You've not traveled much, have you?"

Not in the sense she was thinking.

"I have, but mostly around the countryside."

That was about the safest answer he could give aside from bold face lying.

"You should, if only to see the difference. Postremo Lux is not your average city."

Cal tried to piece together what little he'd seen outside the city. He hadn't seen much, mainly farmland. Slowly, a picture came to mind.

"I'm guessing the city gets all the cool stuff first due to the proximity of the Academy?"

A similar thing happened in the Federation with Millie. But that wouldn't fit with the word complacent. The conversation with the headmaster cropped up in his mind.

"Would stifle also fit as a name?" His question prompted a startled look in her eyes, confirming his suspicion. "Well, you know the saying. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't get him to accept indoor plumbing."

His vague image of the Empire being some backward dump had been jarred when he first arrived. First with the car that had picked him up, and then with the phone Alice produced.

Now it made more sense; they were stopping their own progress, and not everyone was on board.

"Lower your voice," she chided. "But yes, that name would suffice. And though your saying is crude, it is appropriate."

Cal couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity. When it came to innovation, the Federation threw everything they had at it. They were desperate for any edge they could get. Meanwhile, these idiots wanted to keep using hoes to plow fields.

"Sorry, it's just really stupid." He said after seeing his reaction had been taken poorly. "They have to know that's a bad idea."

The Federation would wipe them away with a tide of progress. Their only hope at winning would be starting a war sooner rather than...

Fuck.

"We do." Jessica's voice was a welcome reprieve from his current thoughts. "My family, that is. Yours as well, if you still hold the same beliefs as your prior affiliation. Although our reasons differ," she muttered and then returned to her normal tone. "The Northern Lords are the largest obstacle, clogging up all Diet proceedings that look to resolve the issue. "

He didn't know what House Ardere's official stance on it was, but he'd never heard Alice say anything derisive about it.

"We strayed pretty far from talking about clothing." It occurred to him he'd been tricked into learning about politics, and he wasn't all too pleased. "And you never said what you're doing here in the first place."

Her dour expression lightened, and she patted her book.

"Inspiration. I'm working on an important piece, and I am in dire need of it."

Cal looked at her strangely. With the way she altered her uniform, he thought she'd always be looking forward instead of back.

"Isn't fashion about looking for the next big thing? It seems backward to look here."

Then again, Cal knew nothing about the subject. He was happy with that. Given his tailor almost killed him, it was safe to say fashion drove people crazy.

She rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head again.

"It can be found anywhere if you know how to look. But this particular piece is special. I want it to pay homage to our shared ancestry while celebrating what is new."

Hmm.

"Just checking, have you killed any animals for fun?" That was the sign of an early serial killer. A look of shock came over her, and he quickly followed up. "Never mind. Can I see what you're working on?"

She hugged the book, or sketchpad, tighter, angling away from him.

"I'll have to deny your request. This is a very special dress. It would not be right for anyone to see it just yet."

Cal respected her wishes, even if he didn't understand them.

"Suit yourself, but I wouldn't mind seeing it when it's done."

That felt like the right thing to say, so he was perplexed when a troubled expression came over her.

"That may be difficult. But I'm already rushing, and your discretion with that other matter is appreciated."

Other matter? Oh.

"Don't put yourself out over it." Though he didn't get how seeing a drawing put her out. "Why the time crunch? Is a deadline coming up?"

She sighed, looking out of the room's sole window.

"None that I know for sure. I simply fear if I do not finish it now, I may never."

Procrastinator then.

"Just keep at it," Cal found himself offering advice. "Chip away at it little by little."

Her face turned to him, and she gave him a slight tilt of the head.

"Do you enjoy it here? At the Academy?"

No.

Most of the classes were a pain to sit through. The students were nosey, dragging him into unwanted situations and monitoring his every move. He had a school administrator out for his guts, along with Justiciars sniffing about.

All of that ignored he was essentially exiled, thrown over like a live grenade.

But for all of that, the word 'no' didn't pass through his lips.

"You do," she answered for him, and he couldn't bring himself to correct her. "Most feel the same. Out there, beyond these walls, the world is far more rigid. Sometimes I wish they could leave us be."

That strategy didn't tend to work, both from his knowledge and first-hand experience.

"Guess the only thing to do is change it then."

He'd conceived the statement as a joke, but it came out a tad more serious than that.

"Now you sound like Ryan." The upset tone was mismatched with the fond look on her face.

They lapsed into thoughtful silence and Cal was considering leaving her be when he remembered something.

"Didn't you say I'd regret following you? Why was that?"

There was no trap or dangerous line of questioning like he'd been prepared to deal with.

"Oh, I almost forgot." She directed him towards the first model. "Let's start at the beginning..."

Three hours later and not a quarter of the way through, Cal learned it had, in fact, been a trap.