Rubbing his eyes, Caelan went over the maps again. Wanting to etch them into his brain. The rest of the team had already left, wanting a few hours of respite before the operation the next day.
His fingers had brushed the gun’s grip when Matt’s voice cut through the air. "Save your bullets for the freaks tomorrow, Instructor." Matt raised his hands and grinned. His presence defused the tension before it ignited.
He sighed, body relaxing as he returned to the plans. “Boot camp ended years ago. Could you please drop that stupid nickname?”
“As long as good old Sarge is kicking, no one ever will.” Matt peeked at the notes his squad mate kept making. “Just go get some sleep. The plan is solid enough, Caelan.”
“Say that when it’s you who writes to the families.” He marked an entry point they hadn’t considered as an emergency exit.
Matt took the notebook without warning. Caelan's jaw tensing up, he tried to pry it back from his brother-in-arms. In turn, he avoided all attempts aimed at the object (and his throat). He reminded him that plans never survived actual encounters. Worrying over details would cost him sleep and compromise the mission.
Caelan at last got hold of his binder, eyes glued to the ground. “I hate it when you are right.”
“Always am.”
Matt's grin faltered. He saw the strain in Caelan's posture, clutching the binder like a lifeline. “I can’t stop seeing their faces. Every failed plan, every wrong call—someone pays for it. It’s… too much, this burden.”
Matt placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder, making his body relax. “Trust in your preparations and we’ll be fine.”
“And if they fail?”
“If the plan goes sideways, we improvise. Make the freaks regret showing up at all.”
-----
“I hate hospitals!” grumbled the disembodied spirit of Leopold, floating besides Caelan.
As they walked back to their room, Caelan remarked how no one liked them. His throat rasped as he breathed. He had insisted on using the stairs instead of a wheelchair. The obese body made him regret that decision, fast. The bickering from his spiritual associate didn’t help with that.
“Why are you complaining? You can just float everywhere.”
“We share a body, genius. I feel everything too.”
That affirmation, and a flaming pain to his sides, had him stop dead on his tracks. “Really?”
“Only the physical bits.” Leopold’s voice dripped with disdain. “So yeah, every needle, every pain, everything. So next time, use the fucking stairs!”
A light chuckle escaped Caelan’s mouth. “Try not to scream too loud when I stub a toe.”
Ignoring the insults, Caelan meditated on the last few days. All spent going through all manner of medical exams. Some of them were recognizable, but many felt alien to the young man. Not to mention, Aethertec constructs were everywhere. Assisting the doctors and nurses with various tasks. On his old world, there were some robots used for public services before he left, sure. But in The Ascendant's Path, they seemed to be everywhere.
“I sure am not in Kansas anymore,” Caelan muttered under his breath.
“The waste is Kansas?” Leopold groaned, floating behind him with a lazy demeanor. When Caelan didn’t answer, he sighed like the drama queen he was, flopping onto his back mid-air. “You’re surprisingly calm for someone tossed into another world without warning.”
“Says the guy who found out he’s from a video game.”
Leopold blinked, followed by a sharp chuckle. “Ha! Touché.”
Back inside their room, Maia had been humming while folding a few clothes. Seeing her in the flesh after spending so long looking at her 2D image or sprite felt surreal to Caelan. After hesitating for a second, he stepped forward. “What are you doing here, Maia?”
“Oh, Lord Leopold!” The girl got to her feet, greeting him by bowing down while raising a bit of her skirt. He couldn’t help but also notice how she tried to make herself as small as possible in his presence. That realization made his stomach churn. “I heard you might get discharged soon, so I’m preparing for it.”
Sitting down, he noticed how troublesome his belly had become. He couldn't help but feel a sting of irritation spreading across his new body. That, combined with the girl behaving as if a bomb were in the room all the time, did not improve his mood. He reminded her, in a firm but neutral voice, that he no longer had a title of nobility. And how she should return to the house of Sturmfeld as soon as possible.
She somehow looked even lower, her face at a ninety-degree angle. “The duke hasn’t called me back yet. And it wouldn’t sit right to abandon you, master. Not after everything you’ve been through."
“What a pushover.” The master in question sneered at the little woman. “No wonder everyone takes advantage of her.”
His words flushed heat through their shared body, sharp as the memory it carried. A girl's trembling hand reached for the mangled face, once human, her gut pierced by hulking claws. 'I’m sorry… for never being enough… Master.’
This made Leopold turn to Caelan. He questioned where his anger had come from and mocked him for being emotional. From the looks of it, he didn’t seem to notice what had happened.
Eyes blinking, Caelan tightened his jaw. “Nothing.”
“At least stop calling me master,” Caelan said, his tone firm but calm.
Maia’s mouth opened, a protest forming, but he raised a hand to stop her. “Or my lord.” He added, voice softening. “Just… call me Leo, alright?”
Leopold gave a loud growl at that, demanding he never talk like that again. It would make them sound pathetic and weak to others. Caelan, still watching Maia, reminded him how they already were at the bottom of the well.
In return, he got another set of profanities.
Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. “Yes, mas… Leopold.” These came out as little more than whispers.
He sighed and leaned back in the chair. Her ingrained deference weighing on him. “Close enough.”
The man who stepped inside wore sharp, immaculate clothing. On top of that, his movements were rigid and deliberate, as though he had been cast from iron. Caelan adjusted his position on the bed, knowing the man would expect nothing less.
“Professor Dorne.”
Dorne’s gaze swept the room like frost, pausing on Maia, who shrank under its weight. “Leave. Your presence is not required for my affairs with Sturmfeld.”
Maia stammered a response but thought better of it. She hurried out the door with haste, stumbling over her own feet. Dorne didn’t so much as glance at her retreat, his cold eyes fixed on Caelan until they were alone.
“How can I help you, sir?”
The master of the Weaving Course took out a paper from his pristine briefcase. Even his movements lacked fluidity, almost mechanical in nature. “Your disciplinary hearing has been scheduled for tomorrow, three past noon. Tardiness will not be tolerated. Arrive late, and you will cement an already poor impression.”
Caelan put on his best worried expression. He reminded the stern teacher of his missing memories. Then, he questioned how he could give a proper accounting.
Dorne’s lips thinned. “Circumstances are irrelevant. To allow exceptions is to invite chaos.” Once more, he adjusted his glasses to emphasize his point. “Consider yourself fortunate to have any chance to defend your actions.”
With a nod, Caelan hid his intentions with a poker face. He couldn’t let the older man know the pair had counted on his “sanctity of laws” mentality to give them an edge.
Then a long explanation of how the proceedings would happen the next day followed. What he would need to bring and even a few instructions on ways he could present his case. Caelan listened with unwavering focus, cataloging every word. Information is the sharpest blade against a superior foe.
“How does he even walk with that massive log up his ass?” He floated above Caelan, producing an obscene gesture toward the door. “Guess tomorrow’s the big day.”
Caelan leaned his body against the pillows, fatigue pulling at him like lead. “Then we see if we can tell ‘honest lies’ under the radar.”
-----
“Why is it so bloody important to remain at the Academy?” Leopold floated nearby, his spectral arms crossed. He scowled as Caelan pushed aside his hospital breakfast.
Caelan sighed, turning to his translucent companion. He reminded him about how strength came from preparation. And an institution founded to teach people how to handle Hollowborne seemed ideal. At least for the time being
Leopold’s scowl deepened. “Fine, but what if Sofia dies while we're playing around?”
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Caelan pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience wearing thin. Then he explained how it would take at least five years before the civil unrest could claim her life. More than enough time to graduate.
“But first, we must convince the teachers at the hearing that we should get a second chance.” Leopold gave a smug smile. They had no need to worry, as he had always been very good at concealing evidence of his activities. “And yet, you still got expelled.”
“Fuck you.”
Caelan ignored him, leaning forward. “Listen, what I need is solid intel.” He pointed to the floating spirit. “Starting with how these hearings work. I bet you looked into it, considering how you ran the risk of getting one.”
Leopold pondered it. His smugness shifted to reluctant cooperation. He then confirmed he had researched the subject. He then shared all he knew about how they worked. In short, the headmistress would direct them as a judge while five faculty members served as the jury.
The Academy could pick anyone among the many instructors as well. But there would always be at least one of the Heads of the four courses present. Regardless, if they could get the majority of them to rule in their favor, they could avoid expulsion.
“Then, we focus on winning them over.” Caelan stretched, shoulders stiff.
Leopold gave a smile that had Caelan wishing he could hit him right in the nose. “Don’t you know all this already, oh wise man?”
“I know who they were as characters, not people.” Caelan picked up a pen and paper Maia had left for him. “I don’t know who they are. They were secondary or tertiary figures, at best. You, however, knew them in person. That gives us an edge—if you’re willing to share.”
The small ghost crossed his arms, looking away so he could hide his reaction. Then he agreed to give an overview of every teacher.
-----
Maia paced from one end of the hall to the next, while Caelan cleared his mind for what would come. Leopold tried to stay still, his eyes wandering every so often to the doors.
The very moment the clock signaled three past noon, a voice from within called. To her credit, Maia tried to give some encouraging words. But her shaking voice prevented most of them from coming out. Caelan took a deep breath, thinking back on his drilling instructor's words. When you step in the front lines, focus on the target and get out alive. Everything else can be unfucked later.
He couldn’t help but give a chuckle.
The hearing would happen in the same room where they interviewed prospective students. A half-circle table seated the five members of the faculty. The Headmistress, on the other hand, sat in an elevated pulpit. As Caelan was about to take his place in the middle of the circumference, he froze in place.
As Leopold informed, they chose five teachers. Or rather, four lecturers and one "consultant." The first surprise came in the form of them all being the Masters. Each governing one of the major courses, Dorne included. The second thing proved to be the dark-skinned beauty dressed in layered fabrics.
“Oh great, the universe does hate you!” Leopold narrowed his eyes at the petite woman. “Also, why the fuck is Lady Vaedra here?”
Caelan recovered from his initial surprise, making his way to the seat. “Because someone jinxed us and managed to call the worst possible people.”
Leopold waited for the punchline, his round form stiffening when none came. “Oh, we are so screwed…”
Selene Veylor, the headmistress, cleared her throat. “We have gathered here today to ascertain the truth regarding the accusations levied against Leopold vorn Sturmfeld, son of…" As she continued, Caelan’s mind raced while paying just half-attention to her precise words. His thoughts remained on Lady Vaedra being there. He didn’t think anyone could call her as a member of the table.
“Hey!” Leopold floated right in front of his face, taking him out of his stupor. “Why is the ‘etiquette consultant’ that bad for us?”
While answering the introductory questions, Caelan turned his mind to his companion. “She’s the Master of Secrets, a spymaster for both the academy and the Kingdom of Lusceria.” That had the spirit take a sharp turn to the woman, who had been checking her immaculate and long nails.
Mouth agape, he turned back to Caelan, who gave a slight nod. “Oh, you've got to be kidding me! I didn’t even know we had that!” He pointed in the most dramatic fashion to her. “Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”
At that point, Veylor began introducing each instructor for the record. “She avoids getting herself involved directly with anything. Or rather, she should.”
“And now… acting in her capacity as a consultant for matters of discretion, Evangeline Vaedra.”
As if waiting for a cue, the elegant woman closed her fan and directed her sunniest smile at the boy.
“Oh, my dear, sweet Sturmfeld! You mustn’t frown like that—it’s positively unbecoming of a young gentleman!” None of the others had manifested themselves above a non-verbal acknowledgment. “Now, how about we shed light on all your scandalous secrets?”
Her words caused a vein to pop on Dorne’s forehead. “Lady Vaedra, perhaps we could proceed without your theatrics. This is a disciplinary hearing, not a theatrical production.”
“Oh, Dorne, don’t be such a bore! I’m merely setting the stage—we can always afford some panache even at the most boorish moments, don’t you think?”
As the headmistress chastised the young woman, Leopold manifested an opinion. “Lady Veylor flinched just a smidge. I bet whatever you want, her presence wasn’t expected.”
“An unexpected entry point can provide new options.” Still, he couldn’t help but cast quick glances at the woman. “But it can also work as a trap.”
“Leopold vorn Sturmfeld, you have been called to this hearing to provide a defense on the many transgressions you have committed over the past eight months.” She followed that by giving an overview of the many things his companion did before he took control of the body. Those include things such as having others do their schoolwork for him, building a gambling scheme to trick students, employing “hirelings” to intimidate people into keeping his secrets, and cheating on exams.
“I’m impressed you managed to not get caught sooner.” Caelan clenched his jaw at hearing the true extent of what the now-floating ghost had done.
In response, Leopold shrugged. “Meh.”
“In light of these accusations levied against you, how do you respond?” The Headmistress placed her frigid gaze upon the seated young man.
Caelan took a deep breath, steadying his mind. “I cannot give a proper response, ma’am.”
That had all of the present, each with some degree of uninterest, focus on him. “Oh boy, you better not mess the fuck out of this!” Caelan ignored the remark from his spiritual friend.
For a long moment, the room was silent save for the faint tapping of the Headmistress’s fingers on the table. The Headmistress’s gaze didn’t weigh him—it dissected him. Each second of silence felt like a blade at his neck. When she finally spoke, her voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“Explain yourself.”
“Well, it’s just that I don’t recall ever doing all these myself, ma’am.” Caelan spoke in a calm, measured way, letting each word sink in before continuing. "The truth is, the doctors have told me that the… incident leading to my stay might have caused memory loss. At the moment, I myself lack most of what once made Leopold a person.”
The professors exchanged brief glances, a ripple of silent understanding among them. This all centered around the Headmistress, who continued to watch the young man. Dorne’s lips pressed into a thin line as he adjusted his spectacles, his eyes narrowing in cold judgment. “I believe I speak for all my colleagues when I question the veracity of such statements. How can we believe this is not merely a ploy to garner sympathy?”
“I wouldn’t expect you to take my word for it, sir. But my medical records, which I trust are thorough, should corroborate what I’ve said.”
“You would think the Masters of the Academy would have bothered to look that up beforehand.” Leopold smirked as he floated in circles above his own body’s head. “Makes you question a few things, doesn't it?”
Livia Trenith, the Master of Understanding, crossed her arms. Index finger tapping at her elbow, she studied the accused. “Memory loss is not a shield, Sturmfeld. Actions bear consequences, regardless of what you remember. The world does not grant amnesty for ignorance.”
“I agree, Professor Trenith. Ignorance doesn’t absolve responsibility. I do not bring this point as a way to challenge the accusations, but as an introduction to what I hope to convince you all.”
Lady Veylor raised an eyebrow. A smidge, nothing more. “Oh, and what would that be?”
“A better alternative.”
-----
“Proving your innocence is pointless.” Caelan had to grip his pen to avoid throwing it at the ghost form of Leopold.
“Don’t you know things because you played the game? Or are you telling me you are full of shit?”
“The hearing isn’t shown. I have no idea how it will go, what sort of evidence they have, or the school regulations in full. And despite the way all that comes out of your mouth reeks worse than MREs, you have some modicum of brains in you.” That last part had Leopold unsure if he should be brimming or scowling. Caelan continued explaining how all that couldn’t save his ass from the firing squad. Meaning, they had no chance to prove any form of innocence.
While Leopold bitched like usual, the displaced man closed his eyes to think for a few moments. "The way I see it, our best shot is admitting to being guilty.”
“Are you insane?” The way the specter looked at him felt like the suggestion had been to throw themselves in front of a bus.
Doing so would give a better impression of them. And let them use the ‘I regret everything’ card. Caelan pointed at his own forehead. “We can even use the fact we have ‘amnesia’ to make it seem more believable that we can turn over a new leaf. To give us another chance, so to speak.”
The small humanoid didn’t seem too convinced, judging by the way he kept biting at his lips. “Doing that would take a shitload of luck, bluffing, and the heaviest balls.”
Caelan tapped his pen against the table, his voice calm as a winter lake. “A wise man once said, ‘If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.' And with both our intel, we can achieve our mission objectives."
Leopold crossed his arms, still doubtful. “And if they don’t buy it?”
“They won’t buy any of it.” Caelan’s eyes narrowed as he leaned back in his chair. “But if they even begin considering it, we’ll have the advantage.”
-----
“Members of the table, I accept responsibility for everything done before my accident.” He got up from his seat, giving a better performance. “But I ask you to consider this: expelling me would not serve justice. I have no memory of Leopold’s life, and my father has already cast me aside. What more can you take from me?”
The room seemed to tremble when the massive arm of Magnus Holt came crashing down on the table, rattling it. “What sort of father does that, regardless of his child’s misbehavior!” His outburst brought a bitter look from Dorne and Trenith. In contrast, the disguised spymaster looked amused at watching it. “Also, calm down, lad, we haven’t decided on your punishment just yet.”
Bowing down, Caelan turned towards the massive instructor. “Thank you for the support and kindness, sir. But I hold no illusions on how this hearing will end, if I don’t offer another solution.”
Swallowing hard, he then prepares himself for his greatest gamble.
He closed his eyes and conjured her image. The way her honey-scented hair tickled his cheek when they lay together. The warmth of her small frame curled against his. Her soft humming as she doodled late into the night.
But also, of the months he would be away, leaving her alone. For a good reason, yet the bitter taste in his mouth came all the same.
Remembering how it felt to go out the door, wondering if that would be the last time he would ever see her alive. How powerless he felt when she came to him for help, right before turning eighteen. All that served to empower both his resolve and coat his main strategy to convince the table.
Those moments of love had been fleeting, but the pain she left behind would be eternal. The memory of her trust in him—her belief that he could be more—settled in his chest like a stone. He could not waste this chance.
“These past few days… no, perhaps for a much longer time, I have carried regrets. For things I have done wrong. For wasting time on meaningless distractions when I should have done what mattered.
He paused, his throat tightening. A tear slid down his cheek, unbidden. “For giving excuses for failing to be the person I knew I could be.” Voice cracking, he kept going. “I don’t ask for forgiveness; I know I’ve hurt others. But I have nothing now—nothing that matters. All I ask is for the chance to prove I can become the kind of man I should have been all along.”
The petite spymaster raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a faint smile. “Well, well, isn’t this a turn of events…” she murmured, her tone soft yet laced with something sharper.
Gideon Falkner, the Master of Creation, had been fiddling with a strange contraption. But something in Caelan’s words had him put it down and lay his head in his hands, attention now on the young man.
Dorne adjusted his spectacles, his expression unreadable. “Fine words. But words alone are cheap.”
Trenith leaned back, her sharp eyes narrowing. “Regret is easy to claim, Sturmfeld. What makes you think you’ll follow through?”
“Come on, Liv, let the boy breathe a little.” To the young man, Holt offered an ear-to-ear smile filled with genuine warmth. "It takes guts to admit your failures, lad. Even more to try and fix them. If you’re willing to put in the work, maybe you deserve the chance to climb out of the hole you dug yourself into.”
"We've got their full attention now.” Leopold had an eyebrow raised as he scanned over the six of them. “Damn, I thought you would fuck up way before we reached this point.”
“Now, we divide and conquer.”