After Rahim teleported out of the office with Aodhán and Cyrus, professor Dubois spoke up once more.
“Principal Malakov, I’m not trying to contest your authority here, but don’t you think your decision to place students within the sink is a little excessive? I mean, it’s a place for criminals and degenerates. Regardless of their offense, these students are not criminals.”
Zatya looked up and glared at Faelar Dubois. Unlike most people, Faelar didn’t flinch when their gazes connected; however, Zatya didn’t miss the slight clenching of her hands in tension.
Principal Zatya smiled at the unintentional motion and leaned back in her chair. She might be a simple academy principal right now, but she had been a glorious champion long before Faelar awakened, and her reputation could only be considered clean when compared to that of Mordok, or Az'marthon Ranok.
Chuckling at her own brutality, Zatya responded. “I’m sure they’ll survive. Besides, it’s only for five days. They’ll certainly gain much from the solitude.”
Professor Dubois grimaced and stepped forward. “I’m not referring to their physical or mental health, but the effect the spread of such news will have on their reputations.”
Zatya's grin widened. “Then we’ll just have to keep things quiet, won’t we?”
Faelar took in a sharp breath, but before she could respond, Professor Caldwell hastily spoke up. “If you’ll excuse us, principal, professor Aleran and I have got some experiments we need to attend to.”
“I’ll come with you.” Alaric quickly added, already marching towards the door and dragging a slightly hesitant Aleran along with him.
They shut the door behind them the next instant, and Zatya suppressed another chuckle. The three professors had practically run out of the office, but she couldn’t blame them. In spite of all their strength and knowledge, none of them were former champions or champion candidates. Besides, they were all still in the advanced class.
The moment the office door shut with a faint click, Faelar dropped the facade of faux politeness she usually wore and sneered. “You’ve gone insane, Zatya. To put the son of Duke Solaris in the sink! Do you even realize the potential repercussions of such a decision?”
Zatya laughed and steeled her fingers. “Glad to see the real you, Faelar. Like I always tell you, kindness never did suit you.”
Faelar didn’t respond; instead, she arched an eyebrow, and Zatya sighed. She did in fact realize the repercussions of placing Cyrus Valerion within the sink, but she hadn’t exactly been left with much choice. She couldn’t expel him from the school as his father was the duke; suspension would have destroyed his reputation, and expelling him would have caused a literal war.
She could have fined him, but that would have required that she do the same to Aodhán, and her pet was in no way ready for such a debt. The damage they’d wrought wasn’t cheap. The tiles and mirrors they'd destroyed alone would buy the house the Brystions were currently living in, and she couldn’t do that to them.
She’d had no other option but to sentence them to the sink. Would she ever admit that she’d been left with no choice? Absolutely not. Instead, she crossed her feet and fixed her mythic gaze on Faelar. “They destroyed several platinum worth of properties and almost killed themselves under my watch. Both of these crimes are enough grounds to suspend them for a whole semester. Five days in the sink, no matter how terrible, is hardly comparable. If anything, I did them a favor.”
“A favor?” Faelar scowled. “You’re treating the son of a duke like a petty criminal.”
“What would you have had me do then? Let them go without punishment.”
“That’s unwise.” Faelar snorted. “However, something a little less disgraceful would have been more appropriate.”
“Why? Is it because he’s noble or because he’s your lover’s son?”
Faelar stilled, and Zatya really had to admire the woman’s courage. Duke Solaris was a man whore who had a problem keeping his privy in his pants. The commoners knew it; the nobles knew it. Ascendants! The entire continent of Lutia knew it, which was why Zatya had been surprised when she’d found out that Faelar had become his latest plaything. Their clandestine relationship was still pretty new, which was why the Duchess hadn’t found out yet, but Zatya knew it was only a matter of time before she did.
When Faelar didn't respond, Zatya smiled. “You’re playing with fire, Faelar.”
“My relationship with the Duke is none of your business.” Faelar replied curtly, her lips pursed in caution. “And neither is my reason for pointing out the potential repercussions for your decisions. However, I have never hidden my sentiments. You know my stance on the topic of nobles and commoners.”
Zatya grimaced, and Faelar continued. “The sink is a place for degenerates and criminals. It's no place for a noble regardless of their offense.”
Zatya scowled. “So what do you suggest then? That I fine Cyrus and throw Aodhán in the sink?”
Usually, people hesitated when it came to topics such as this, ashamed or embarrassed of their blatant aristocratism, but Faelar didn’t even blink.
“Yes,” she stated matter-of-factly. “The boy is a commoner; he cannot afford a fine; besides, his nascent reputation can handle the hit.”
Zatya stared at her fellow mythic, scorn written clearly on her face, and a moment later, she shook her head. “Well, I’ve made my decision already. I’ll just have to face whatever consequences come from it.”
Faelar grimaced, looking like she wanted to press the matter, but before she could, a knock sounded on the door, and her faux mask of politeness slid back into place with practiced ease.
She stood up and smiled thinly. “Have a nice day, Zatya. I assure you there are only a few of those left.”
She teleported out of the office the next instant, and Zatya grimaced, not liking the threat in Faelar’s statement. With a sigh, she cleared the files from her table and called out. “Come in, Daruk. I've been expecting you.”
Daruk walked into her office, his expression cold and detached. He didn’t meet her gaze, but very few people could.
Zatya smiled, impressed by Daruk’s confidence. She knew how walking into her office felt for most individuals in the lower classes. More than a dozen times, it had been compared to walking into a dragon’s den, and out of the hundreds of students that had stepped into this office ever since she assumed the position of principal, Zatya could count on one hand how many of them had walked into the office without fear. Aodhán wasn’t part of them.
It soon became obvious that Daruk was channeling a lot of willpower just to maintain his detached emotional state, but the fact that he could do that alone was impressive.
“What can I do for you, Daruk?” She asked when Daruk took the seat opposite her without prompting. It was rude and insulting, but Zatya was more amused and curious than offended.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
From her conversations with Aodhán, it was apparent that Daruk knew of their agreement and his status as a transmigrant. She had always wondered what Daruk's opinions were on the matter. Not that his opinions would change anything; Zatya was merely curious.
Daruk met her gaze (a feat that caused Zatya to frown in fascination), and when he spoke, his tone was flat and inflectionless. “I want to know where my brother is.”
It was downright impossible to tell what the boy was feeling from his expression or tone alone, and the longer Zatya stared at him, the more fascinated she became.
The boy was an oddity, to say the least.
It had cost the academy several golds to falsify his documents in order to protect his identity—one of the many good things the academy did that the students were unaware of.
Compared to transmigrants, inheritors could be considered common. In fact, there were three other Inheritors within the other year brackets, making Daruk the fourth Inheritor currently within the academy walls.
However, despite being widely accepted and even beloved by the people of Lutia, inheritors preferred to keep their identities secret for security reasons and just to avoid awkward interactions with certain religious bodies.
Zatya hadn't minded Daruk's status before. Inheritors weren't that big of a deal unless one bought into all that mystical crap the church of Raol preached. However, the moment she found out Aodhán's identity, things had become complicated, and her interest in Daruk had spiked.
It wasn't just the fact that both a transmigrant and an inheritor had emerged from a random commoner family in a backwater sector like sector 12, but also the fact that they were almost the same age and were connected to two of the most controversial ascendants of all time. Zatya usually didn't believe in fate, but this was a “coincidence” she couldn't take lightly.
Because of this, Zatya had kept an eye on Daruk for the past few months. However, this was the first time she had him so close to herself that he was practically begging to be scanned.
Unable to help her curiosity, Zatya cranked up her perception to mythic speeds and focused on Daruk’s spirit. She didn’t have the gift of core sense like Aodhán—an ability reserved for those who had undergone a tribulation before full awakening—but considering the class and tier difference between her and Daruk, Daruk's spirit might as well have been see through.
That wasn't completely true, though. Despite the tier disparity, it still took Zatya almost a minute in mythic speeds to pierce through the spirits natural defenses. Daruk's spirit revealed itself to her as a lattice work of ice blue pathways that seemed unnaturally large for their tier—the effect of some crude technique, Zatya presumed.
At the center of the boy’s spirit, just above a surprisingly pure core, was a small spiritual tear that seemed to be the building blocks of a nascent opening. It wasn’t fully opened, but it was much larger than a grasp should have been.
The boy’s seal blazed around his heart region, almost painful to look at, but what caught Zatya’s attention was the huge amount of willpower coursing through the boy's spirit.
Zatya had scanned a lot of young Inheritors before, and although the amount of willpower they had at their disposal was simply astounding, Zatya couldn't help but be amazed by Daruk's. His spirit was almost completely flooded with willpower, a feat that not even some advanced class awakeneds could replicate. It was unnatural for any awakened below the advanced class to have this amount of willpower. Not even inheritors should be able to boast of such.
It was simply astounding, and the idea that Daruk might also be a transmigrant crossed Zatya's mind. However, transmigration couldn't explain the excess amount of willpower, so Zatya dismissed it. Besides, what were the probabilities that two brothers from the same village and family were transmigrants?
It was impossible. Transmigrants were too rare for that. The only possible explanation was something she didn’t want to think about, but if that was the case, then had she not struck gold? Inheritors were rare, but an inheritor twice over? Was that even possible?
Zatya observed Daruk's spirit for what seemed like an hour but was only a couple seconds in real time before blinking back her shock. Perhaps she needed to do a more thorough investigation on the Brystion family. To have both a transmigrant and an inheritor in one family was beyond bewildering. What about the oldest son? What secret was he hiding? What secret was the father hiding?
Resolving to do her investigation first, before confronting Daruk, Zatya cranked down her perception to normal speeds and replied to Daruk’s question. “Your brother and Cyrus Valerion got into a fight that damaged the entire male bathroom on the 4th floor. For this reason, I have sent them to a place where they’ll have no choice but to think deeply about their actions.”
“Where is this place?” Daruk asked, his tone still flat, and principal Zatya shook her head. “Unfortunately, you’re not qualified to know that. However, I can promise that they aren’t being tortured or used for unethical experiments.”
Her words elicited an emotional reaction, or perhaps a facsimile of it.
Daruk raised an eyebrow and frowned. “I do not believe you.”
Zatya grinned. “That’s the beauty of the situation, Mr. Brystion. You don’t have to.”
Daruk observed her mutely for a long moment, and Zatya wondered just what the boy was thinking. She imagined it was something about how evil and unfair she was, which was why Daruk's next words surprised her.
“How much damage are we talking about here?”
Zatya blinked, not having expected that question at all. She took a moment to make a rough estimate and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter how much it is. You cannot afford it.”
“Perhaps not, but I’d still like to know what range we’re talking about.”
Zatya folded her arms and sighed. “About 100 platinum coins per person.”
Daruk’s blank expression cracked then, and Zatya savored the feeling of intense satisfaction that coursed through her because of that. Of course the damage was nowhere near that price range, but Zatya hadn’t been able to resist the temptation.
“What did they break?” Daruk shouted. “The freaking nexus?”
Rather than admit that she’d been lying, Zatya simply shrugged. “I told you. You cannot afford it.”
Daruk scowled, and after a short moment, he placed a pouch of coins on the table and said, “I’m not sure what this will do, but will it get my brother out of your prison faster?”
Zatya wasn’t sure whether to be amused or insulted, but when she saw the meager amount of coins within the pouch, she decided on the latter. “What am I supposed to do with 200 gold coins?”
Daruk shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Cut his sentence down from 5 days to three.”
“Are you asking me or are you telling me?” Zatya scowled and looked back at the contents of the pouch. “Is this a bribe? What sort of child are you?”
“It’s not a bribe.” Daruk replied coldly. “I’m simply paying for a reduction in his prison sentence, which is a perfectly reasonable thing to pay for, unless perhaps you’ve got ulterior motives for sentencing my brother to this ‘prison.”
“First,” Zatya corrected. “It’s not a prison, but a correctional facility, and I have no ulterior motives for placing him within it.”
Daruk snorted. “Tell that to some naive idiot who will believe that crap. I’m sorry if I come off as cynical, but you strike me as someone who never does anything without an ulterior motive.”
Zatya frowned and leaned forward. “Tell me then, what is my motive for keeping this insulting conversation going?”
Daruk didn’t even hesitate. “To study me. By now I expect you’ve scanned my spirit, sensed the depth of my willpower, and you’re already cooking up ways to ensnare me the way you’ve done, my brother. Unfortunately for you, I’ve got no deep, dark secret to keep hidden, except my identity, of course, but that isn't something I can be blackmailed with.”
Zatya’s playful smirk vanished and she grimaced. “I do not blackmail children.”
“And I'm not a child.” Daruk shot back, his tone returning to its inflectionless state.
Zatya leaned back to observe him for a moment before saying, “You’re too smart for your own good.”
Daruk nodded. “It’s both a blessing and a curse.” He stood up and glanced at the coin pouch. “I guess this means I can have my money back “
Zatya glared at the coin pouch and pushed it towards Daruk. “Perhaps you’d like to visit some other time. There are a ton of things I’d like to discuss with you.”
“No, thank you.” Daruk grinned and placed the pouch in his spatial storage. “I’m not much of a talker. I’m just glad to know that my brother is... is still alive.”
“I can’t promise not to torture him.” Zatya teased, and Daruk glared at her for a moment before muttering. “Now, I know why my mother doesn’t like you.”
He marched out of the office after that, leaving Zatya glaring at his vacated seat in dissatisfaction. She pulled out a tablet from her spatial space, and it came on to display Aodhán and Cyrus in their individual null cells.
Predictably, Cyrus was exercising, channeling all that unbridled rage and anger into the null walls by ceaselessly punching them. Zatya clucked her tongue in disappointment. That boy really needed to get a handle on his emotions.
Aodhán, on the other hand, was staring curiously at the rune-covered walls of the room, a hint of regret etched on his face.
Zatya wondered what effect this isolation would have on his emotions. Perhaps time away would grant him more control over Varéc, at least until Helzavauth was able to help him. Zatya had lied when she said she’d had no ulterior motives for placing Cyrus and Aodhán within the sink, and although her motives weren’t nefarious in nature, they were still slightly unethical. However, when had unethical ever stopped her?
She watched the screen for a few more minutes before putting it away, curious to know what effect 5 days of isolation would have on Aodhán and Cyrus.
Would they go insane with rage, or will they grow stronger from it?