"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mister Fleming."

"Oh, please, the pleasures all mine, Headmaster."

“To lay things bluntly, the reason why I want this position,” I said, keeping my tone contemplative, “is the future.”

“The future?” Arila’s brow raised fractionally.

“Yes.” I nodded. “It is no secret that many prestigious students attend Belfaust. Many of these students go on to shape the future of our Empire. I seek to nurture our future.”

The Headmistress of Belfaust hummed thoughtfully, before nodding, satisfied. “Very well, next question. As you may know, Mr. Fleming, we have many departments here composed of many people— the one you’re applying to; Alchemy, is no different. How do you function in a team?”

I made a show of leaning forward, hands clasped in my lap, playing up the role of nervous interviewee. “As you may know— Alchemy’s core ideal is that of change. Despite my inexperience working in a team such as the one here— I’m confident I’ll be able to adjust and function well with my fellow colleagues.”

She narrowed her eyes over her thin-rim glasses, before looking back down at the file before her. I knew my answer wasn’t the best— and that she wasn’t particularly fond of it either, but I couldn’t afford to say anything rash. I felt a little bad— a statement as vague as this one wouldn’t be accepted if anyone else had said it, but my credentials made up for it.

Alas, the world is an unfair place.

“I’ve come to understand you’ve led a mostly solitary career so far,” she slowly rasped, watching me with hawk-like eyes.

I nodded. “Yes. I’ve been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to practice Alchemy in an environment that greatly encouraged my growth.” I let out a nervous chuckle. “Though— I will admit it’s had its drawbacks.”

Arila’s expression grew confused. “Like?”

“I can’t help but think if I could’ve done more— that if I had peers alongside me, we could’ve grown to greater heights.”

“And of your publication and editorial roles?”

“Ah— I couldn’t have gotten to where I have without them, of course. But, truth be told, our interests lie in very separate places.”

“If your colleagues heard you?”

“They would understand. Despite our differences, I and them are very well acquainted. I understand that we each have our own strengths.”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied, before shutting the file before her. “Then that would conclude the interview, then, Mr. Fleming.”

“Ah. I understand, thank you for your time and consideration.” I stood, taking the dismissal for what it was. I turned to leave, taking care not to let the bubbling nervousness show on my expression. I grew worried. The interview was so short— had I said the wrong thing? Where? When? The sound of a scale coming to balance echoed in my ear, and Arila cut me off with a word.

“Mr. Fleming. One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve heard of the Empress’ reforms concerning the reclamation efforts, yes?”

I stilled, and I ran my tongue over my lips before responding. “It’s all over the news, who wouldn’t?”

The Headmistress stayed silent, hands clasped in front of her. Expectant, waiting for me to give my opinion.

I tilted my head, feigning ignorance and confusion. She began again, hawk-like eyes flicking to the side. “You see— I like to know my potential employees beyond just who they are at the workplace.”

“… and the previous question…?”

“I’m asking for your opinion, Sigurd.”

“Well…” I wrung my hands. “I believe that the safety of the people should come first, despite the Empire’s growing need for additional resources for it’s expanding population— primarily that of livable space. It is not worth risking lives if it endangers the stability of the Empire.”

“… Interesting.”

“Territories like Liospa are the main target for such reforms— yes? Liospa, and other territories around it, are the primary providers of the grain that comes into Tisali— risking those settlements for additional land, especially at the advent of winter, would make it disastrous if things were to go wrong.”

She hummed, nodding. “A wise answer, Sigurd.”

“I… thank you, Headmistress.”

“Of course.” She laughed— a short and raspy thing, before looking towards the door. “I should be thanking you for entertaining me. I look forward to working with you, Professor Fleming.”

[][][]

The first thing my eye caught when I walked in was the shape of the room.

Rectangular, with ancient gray stones forming one wall, empty shelves another, a blank blackboard, and arching, bronze floor-to-ceiling windows. Three rows of soapstone tables occupied a majority of the room, stretching back another seven tables, before stopping abruptly at the wall of empty, metal shelves. All the tables faced the front, where a blank blackboard sat behind another soapstone table with a mirror suspended above it.

I shut the door behind me, frowning at the way it winced and whined as it shut.

Stepping forward and doffing my coat, my frown only grew when a cloud of dust rose from where I’d lain my coat. I ran a slow hand along the cold, smooth soapstone surface of a table.

Each table in this room was the same— five thin, expertly carved panels of soapstone, stacked atop one another. Then, those panels would rest on four legs and one main pedestal that had a cabinet. Although I couldn’t see it— I knew that nearly half-a-hundred glyphs were carved into the underside of each panel, extending into the flagstone floor beneath, with another dozen more carved into the spaces I couldn’t see.

I knew the tables would’ve cost a fortune— the soapstone panels had to have been mined from an outer quarry territory, then carefully transported onto wagons and brought to Tisali, where the block of stone would then have to be handed off to an expert, who would spend weeks to carve the panels, then spend several more weeks testing the glyphs. Then, it would’ve had to be been moved to Belfaust, across the giant bridge that spanned the chasm, up hundreds of feet of stairs, only to be set in this classroom, collecting dust.

The floor they sat upon was no better— painstakingly carved flagstones each the size of a door. They were all uniform in size and shape, and sat perfectly even. The floor connected to the windows spanning the entirety of a wall. Intricate, ornate, latticeworks of gleaming bronze and crystal glass. The stones that made up the floor would’ve had needed hundreds of people to work tirelessly. The metal that filigreed the towering windows would’ve needed to be collected, processed, and then wrought into their current shape. They would’ve needed legions of mages to properly inscribe the wards on each lattice. It would’ve taken hundreds more to properly affix and standardize the wards in the rest of the castle.

My gaze caught, and my frown deepened.

Dust hung in the air, dancing on the cold evening light that poured from the windows, caking the tables, crawling along the vented rafters far above me. There were no disturbances, dust occupying shelves and tables without a fingerprint or person in sight. The room lay inert, swallowed by dusty cling film for Angel’s knew how long.

Decades, maybe.

The room— no, this classroom— would’ve gone unused for many years more, had I not stepped up.

The sheer resources that had to have been poured into the school for rooms like these was mind-boggling. All for most of it to be unused. An innumerable amount of opportunities, generated and collected in this building, and most of them lost or left to rot or wasted on people who didn’t need them.

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My fist clenched, and I took a breath to calm myself.

Everywhere I looked, Belfaust was an exercise in indulgence.

Those same stones that had to of taken decades of work to complete, made up the majority of the remainder of the castle. Those same flagstones built the towering walls, centuries-old foundations and jutting spires of Belfaust, which stood like a massive wall of dead coral— all gray and pale stone, so ancient as to look dead. Those same flagstones composed a singular, massive bridge led in and out of Belfaust’s isolated cliffs— how many people would’ve needed to work on that bridge?— spanning a chasm so deep I couldn’t see the bottom of it.

Metal echo-creaked in my ear as scales came to weigh even, and my gaze drew towards the window.

In the distance, crossing the main courtyard in quick, hurried strides, was a stocky man. Abnormally large compared to the specks around him, I recognized Talon even from how high up I was. I also recognized how strange he was acting— the man was a model of deadly patience.

“Is it him?” I spoke.

The dusty air was silent, and sighing, I spun, prickling as I donned my coat. The fabric was itchy, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to it. Sparing a glance back towards the window, I ran a hand through my hair, before adjusting my cuff to cover the bangle of curling silver on my wrist.

[][][]

As I made my way towards the central courtyard, where I’d last seen Talon, I passed paintings lining the walls— ones I knew were most likely more expensive than the soapstone tables in my classroom above. Each had a different scene— some were massive renditions of sprawling landscapes, some were close-up portraits with placards I didn’t stop to read, and others were more abstract— visages of pale, blended colors, depicting exaggerated people or monsters.

Soon, I redirected my attention from the paintings around me, to the people that stood around, idling near counters or among each other. None of them were looking at me, but I could hear their whispers nonetheless.

“— did you hear?”

“No— what?”

“The accident at the Diyaflos District—“ their voice was hushed, and I slowed my steps.

Another voice. “What about it?”

“They’re saying that it was the work of the rebels!”

“… rebels?”

“The insurrectionists?”

I knew better than to place stock in baseless rumors, but I also trusted in Raguel. They wouldn’t lead me down here if it wouldn’t benefit us.

A different voice, one steeped in a disbelieving sneer. “You can’t believe everything you read in the news.”

“It’s true! I had a cousin who was near. She said that it was late at night— and she heard a commotion, so she peaked out her window to see a group of armed men making their way towards the Clarion Isthmus!”

A scoff, accompanied by soft gasps. Then another voice, eagerly agreeing. “I heard the same thing from my brother! But that it wasn’t a group of people— but three youngsters hurriedly running away.”

“Maybe they were chasing one another?”

“But why Clarion Isthmus?”

“The same people who blew up the workshop!”

“What—“ a mocking laugh “— there’s actually two groups of people running around, and they just so happen to also be related to two incidents several miles from each other?”

“Don’t laugh! It all happened the same night— and the method of explosion was the same!”

“It was a gas leak, I’m telling you— we all know how those under-dwelling workshops act. Absolute disregard for any safety precautions. I’m positive that the Isthmus was just the vandals like the paper said they were.”

I passed under the great archway that separated the courtyard and the main hall, and left the whispers behind me. While the premise was troubling, I had too little information to act, even if I wanted to. Those rumors were worse than second or third-hand information. I drew my coat closer around myself. While many of the wards locked out the normal cold, it became less efficient in open-air spaces.

“Mr. Fleming!” a reedy, familiar voice called. I turned to find Leo approaching me— an orange haired, stick-thin man always piled into too many coats, that perpetually walked around with a little memo pad. It was odd that he was hear, considering the fact that he’d also been my primary point of contact to my publications. I let the smile come to my face, and I pulled him into a hug. “Leo! What are you doing here?”

“Well—“ he wrung his gloved hands “— I was gonna fetch a story out of you— seeing as you’re an official teacher for Belfaust now.”

“Just you?” I teased.

His gaze furrowed. “The rest of the city is in a bit of an uproar— you know. You hear of the—“

I held up a hand. “Yes, I’ve actually been meaning to ask someone about that. I’ve only gotten rumors and speculation so far.”

“Some rumors are better than others. You know— one I heard the other day— was that new Headmistress of yours— what was her name—“

“— Vercari?”

“Yes— yes! Headmistress Vercari. Word ‘round the block is that she was spotted briefly in the aftermath of the explosions.”

I couldn’t stop my brow from raising. “… and you think it’s related?”

“It’s gotta be— yeah? Normally the old lady’s unflappable. If you ask me— I think Belfaust might be involved.”

“How so?”

“Who knows?” Leo shrugged. “Maybe some students were responsible or something.”

My eyes narrowed. “That’s an unsavory rumor, Leo.”

“Okay— then okay— it’s just my own speculation— you can read this and come to your own conclusion—“ he shoved a newspaper he had tucked under his arm into my hand, before digging up his notepad again “— and answer some of my questions in the mean time.”

“Ah— ah. Leo— I’m afraid I can’t. I’m actually on a rather strict timetable at the moment.”

“Oh.” His face fell.

“But you can contact me where you usually do— I’m sure I can set aside another evening for your story.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re not gonna sell the story to another paper— are you?”

“Of course not,” I chuckled, stepping away, “as if anyone would pick it up with the accident near Clarion.”

“They will, Sigurd! Someone of your stature being hired to teach at Belfaust— that’ll make waves, believe me.”

“Make waves with who? The rich?”

His tone grew serious as he walked away. “You are going to be teaching their children, Sigurd.”

I smiled reassuringly back, waving at him as he left. I began looking for Talon again, following my gut on the direction I’d last seen him walking. While I walked, I absently flipped through Leo’s newspaper. Much of it was general information— stuff I’d already read prior like the Empress’ continued reforms on diverted funding, public opinion pieces on the economic disparity, blanket statements made by at least ten nobles regarding an inane issue that only really affected that— until I found the source of the rumors.

REPUBLIC INSURRECTIONISTS

FIRST ATTACK IN DECADES

The rest of the article was a couple paragraphs, mostly speaking about the details of the attack— mostly the explosion on Clarion Isthmus and the subsequent collapse of Turin Alchemical Workshop. Authorities didn’t say anything to their relation beyond that they were still investigating, while the journalist went on, raving briefly about how it had to of been connected. I mostly tuned that part out— focusing on the number of injured; twelve injured, seven dead, and three in custody, with more following the excavation of both sites. There was a short section, alongside an image of a stately, well-dressed man, of Earl Sutherland giving a short statement on how tragic it was— and how the Sutherlands would personally work with the Keepers to bring the rebels to justice.

No mention of Belfaust students. I kept reading as I passed under archways and watchful gargoyles.

Near the end of the article, the journalist stuck in another paragraph concluding and restating what the Earl had said, but incensed the reader to action— claiming that the “rebel forces couldn’t be allowed to fester in our grand Empire!” along with a line asking people to report if they suspected they had information of the ongoing case or potential rebels. My frown only grew, and I stuffed the newspaper away.

In the distance, staring out over the railing back towards the city, was Talon.

Talon— if that was even his name— was a towering, burly man, garbed in a full-body crimson cloak and ivory mask— no one really knew what he looked like. Everything surrounding him was a general mystery. All I truly knew about him was that he was a war hero, someone well-versed in just about every weapon, and his namesake had come from his weapon: a large, curved blade the size of a normal man. Popular speculation placed him as someone horribly disfigured from the war he’d made his name in— and that everyone that knew him as a recruit was either dead or dying. There had also been talk that the man was a descendant of the giants, or of the fey— with that lethal, eerie precision he moved around with and the near seven foot stature he boasted.

A scale clinked, and Talon turned to face me.

“Professor Fleming,” he greeted, and stuck out a gloved hand.

“Ah… Professor Talon.” I returned, and his grip was almost crushing in mine.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he graveled.

“Ah— please, there’s no need for such formality— you are my senior, after all. I just wanted to make sure introductions were in order— and if you don’t mind me asking…” I smiled, hoping it was concerned. Instinct spurred me on, along with Leo’s speculation. “… Is everything all right?”

“Why would anything be wrong?” Talon was a good actor, but I caught the slight bristle behind his mask.

“Well— forgive me for my curiosity— but rumors say that Belfaust students were involved in the attack last night— and seeing as you teach many— if not all— of the combat courses here, I wanted to ask if you knew anything?”

“… Remove that line of thinking, Professor Fleming.” His voice was stony. “Rumors are dangerous things, and putting faith before reason for something like whimsical curiosity is liable to get you into some trouble sooner or later.”

A clinking scale on the edge of my hearing told me all I needed to know. I made a show of looking chastised, before nodding and bowing. “Yes, yes, of course, Professor Talon. I’ll disengage from those whimsical notions, now. Good day to you.”

His response was clipped, and I barely heard it as I turned away. “A good day to you too, Professor Fleming.”

The next question in my mind, was how I could place which students were involved.