Therion opens his eyes to a familiar scenery. It's the inside of a cell. He sits up. It doesn't hurt too bad. They didn't beat the crap out of him as thoroughly this time. To be honest, you get used to that sort of a beating and just learn to play dead, so they get tired of the game and throw you aside.
The young boy rubs his face and sniffs a little. His nose is just runny. It's not the most hospitable place, these cells. Even grown men shiver here, much less a scrawny orphan kid without food in his belly. His clothes are thin and it's a bit cold at this time of year. It seeps in through bones as well as stone. Even his purple scarf won't do much.
"So?"
He looks to see an arrogant smile behind bars. That familiar face and voice.
"What're you in for, mate?"
Therion looks across the hallway to the prisoner in a cell opposite his own in the gaol.
This was where it all began.
This was where he met him. Met Darius...
Therion doesn't respond at first, merely looking Darius up and down. The other boy looked a little older, certainly bigger. His orange-red hair looks so vibrant against the dull surroundings of stone and iron. His clothes are certainly no better than ratty cloth, much like what Therion wears. Like most people here, they wear worn opanci and mend it the best they can with wrappings for the feet. He also has the signs of the beating by guards on his tanned skin. Despite the disheveled appearance, none of that mattered much to Therion.
He is surprised by just how vibrant that expression is despite the bruising on his face, no doubt also a gift from the guards. Darius has very dark eyes, but his face shows that of arrogance enough to defy even the gods and anything life threw at him. It was such a mocking and absurd face of someone that knew no fear in this world and could challenge anyone because of it. Darius was a free spirit.
"You're a tea leaf, too, huh?" Darius scoffs, "Guess we're in the same boat."
"... How do you figure?" Therion wipes his face a little, "You look way worse."
"I ain't a first-timer. Got caught like you did, I reckon. Got a warm welcome from the guards, too," Darius points a thumb at his battered face like a trophy, "They think they can beat the attitude outta us here."
Therion had mouthed off a little to the guard as he was arrested. That prompted them to kick him around before throwing him in.
"That's the kinda place it is here. They wanna stomp it outta you until you do what they want."
"... Seems like it," Therion looks to the side briefly.
"You ready to roll over for that?" Darius smirks.
"Are you?" Therion asks. He knew it was rhetorical.
Darius lets out a loud laugh, "Ha! As if. I'm gonna get outta here... Treatin' me like a teapot, will they? Well, they ain't prepared to handle a real tea leaf!"
Therion sees him produce a pin from his locks of hair. Darius begins to pick the door to his cell.
"Almost got it... ha!"
There's a click and then a creak as his cell door opens. He looks to Therion as if expecting awe and praise. Therion pushes open his own cell door with ease. Darius stares at him in surprise. In Therion's hand is a key.
"... Stole it from the guard," Therion gives a crooked grin.
"Well... cobble at that," Darius folds his arms and looks Therion up and down, "You ain't half bad."
Therion steps out of his cell, as does Darius. The two of them take a second gander at the other now that they are standing closer.
"Looks like we're partners in crime then," Darius cocks his head, "We better be goin.' They'll be back to check soon."
"... Right," Therion nods. He can see now that Darius is a bit taller than him, a bit better built and not so scrawny. But kids like them never had much to eat anyway unless they were good at taking it.
"I'm Darius, by the way," Darius holds out his hand, finally introducing himself.
Therion hesitated for a second and then clasps that hand firmly in his own, "Therion."
"Well, Therion, we're in business then," Darius grins, "C'mon, I know a quick shortcut out!"
Like the thieves in the night they were, they stole out of that dark and dingy place, towards the obscure darkness outside to greet them in a town that didn't give a damn about whether they lived or died. It was a world simply for their own taking, for their own struggles to carve out their paths ahead...
It was supposed to be for the glory of them both together. Partners.
But life never works out that simply.
One day, you're both chuckling gleefully over your bounty from the local storage. The next, you get a knife gouging out your eye.
And then, after that... you get a foot on your chest sending you over some cliffs.
Why did that happen? How did it happen? Could he have seen it coming?
It was on his mind a lot when it first happened... it had been a while since he ever allowed himself to ponder on that again. It was a pointless rumination, after all. You can't change the past.
But he finds himself asking now, in his feverish dreams.
Why, Darius... why...
…
The thief breathes softly, lips chapped and sweat beading on his brow as he lay in bed. His face shows discomfort from whatever is racing through his unconsciousness at the moment. Alfyn looks over him worriedly. With a wet cloth, he lightly dabs that clammy forehead and those dry lips.
Outside, it is morning in Atlasdam. But just barely. People are slowly getting ready for their day. Students, first and foremost, need to get to class if they were signed up for early classes. Professors are ever early birds. Faculty and student alike frequent the small cafes where they can get a pick-me-up after last night's festivity. Even with finals and exams over, there were still other curriculars and formalities to be addressed.
"Aahhhnnghh..." Tressa yawns in her little bedroll, like a cute little bug, "Nf... goood moooorning...!"
The others seem to be rousing or still mostly asleep. This deluxe room is meant to house all of them, and came with six beds.
Of course, the merchant preferred her own personal cot on the floor.
Tressa sits up and rubs her eyes, stretching a little. She glances around the room and pouts.
"Alf!" She whispers, "Did you stay up all night?"
"Huh? Oh, hey, Tress," Alfyn gives a hearty grin, void of any tiredness, "Yer up?"
"Clearly..." The merchant girl squints at him, "You're not tired at all? Sheesh."
"Huh? Oh, c'mon, Tress, ya know by now I don't tire that easy...!"
Linde is the next to awaken. The big cat stretches leisurely in her spot and licks her legs, preening. She struts about and then leaps onto the bed where H'aanit was laying, landing her paws on the woman's stomach.
"Guf- … Linde," H'aanit grumbles with a note of venom in her voice at being woken so rudely. The cat merely gives her a smug grin.
Primrose is snuggled with Simeon in their bed for two. The playwright is awake but seems content to just lie there next to the dancer for a bit longer.
Olberic groggily sits up and yawns before wiping his face with his hand. He moves automatically, getting out of bed to fetch a sword before he leaves the room to go train as usual. He mumbles low morning greetings, as if half-asleep still.
Ophilia is snoozing rather contentedly, perhaps tired after the ordeal last night. She also is someone who likes to sleep, after all.
"...Hm," H'aanit glances to Therion's occupied bed with Alfyn hovering over it, "Howen weren he?"
"He's got a bit of a fever," Alfyn says with a wistful smile, "Pretty warm. But he'll be fine with some more rest. And I'll whip up something to break it before you can say … uh, what was it again, Tress? Two wiggles of the ride...?"
"Ripples of the tide," Tressa grumbles as she gets out of her sleeping pouch, "Anyway, we should probably get that complimentary breakfast. If I knew Cyrus wasn't going to be staying with us, I could've spent less than splurging on this big room... so we gotta take advantage of it!"
"Haha, what do they serve?"
"I'll go check," Tressa steps out now to inquire.
H'aanit glances to the still-sleeping cleric and dancer and gives a small scoff of amusement. Linde goes and jumps onto Ophilia's bed. But the cat doesn't disturb her like she did H'aanit. Instead, Linde curls up on top of Ophilia's feet.
"... Willen thou stayen with him all of today?" H'aanit looks to Alfyn now as she gets out of bed and begins to pull on her outer pelts, "Believen I do Cyrus doth waiten for us at the Academie."
"Yeah, I'm not leaving Therion like this," Alfyn gives an apologetic smile, "Shucks, I wanted to see what books they had in that big ol' school, too!"
"Mayhaps Cyrus can fetchen thee some," The huntress shrugs.
Tressa comes back with a somewhat sour face. She grumbles that the complimentary breakfast is little more than a bowl of millet. That doesn't put a damper on Alfyn's mood at all.
…
The bunch that end up accepting Cyrus' invite to Atlasdam Academy are Tressa, Primrose, Simeon, and Olberic. Linde, and by extension H'aanit, stay by the inn. The large cat seemed a bit suspicious about Therion's attacker possibly returning. Against Alfyn's insistence, Ophilia opted to stay as well, in case her healing would be needed while Therion recuperates.
"Hmm," Olberic looks around the grandeur of Atlasdam, taking in its paved streets and fine architecture, "Everything here... truly does seem worlds apart from Cobbleston."
"Indeed. The symbolic crest of Atlasdam has a quarter portioned to the arts, like architecture. It is sound that they should have such refinement," Simeon points out the shield at the top of the gated arch to the Academy grounds.
"This place is swarming with people dressed like Cyrus..." Tressa looks around at the students in their learning garb, "Hmm... That is some rich silk."
"The outfitting for the Atlasdam students actually derives from the old orders of monks that studied magic under archmages in history," Simeon points out, "The more decorated they were, the more elevated their magic was supposed to bit. It was a simplistic system of visuals."
"Much like how one wears battle trophies hm..." Olberic nods.
"Where did the professor say to meet him exactly?" Primrose folds her arms. They are now standing just by the entry gate, as if waiting, "Where even is his office..."
"Let's ask someone!" Tressa flags down the nearest person that isn't dressed like a student, "Miss! We're looking for our professor friend!"
The trimly dressed woman looks and sees the merchant girl and her ragtag band. She smiles, "Oh, are you from out of town?"
"Well, we aren't students, that's for sure!"
"Alright then, I will try my best to assist... Um, who is the professor you are looking for?"
"Cyrus Albright," Olberic answers. Tressa was just going to say "Cyrus" since she forgot what his last name was.
"Professor Albright? Oh, I'm sorry, but he's on a sabbatical..."
"He returned from his sabbatical just last night, dear," Primrose speaks up, "We just want directions to his office. He said he would meet us."
"Uhm... Well, we don't exactly allow visitors to come to faculty areas..." The woman puts a pensive hand to her chin, "How about I see if he's available and then bring him here?"
"That works," Tressa nods, "Hmm... do you guys have a campus store or something? Have him meet us there!"
"Oh, uh, yes, the store is," The woman points to a building west of the library, "Over there. It is open to visitors and students alike... And yes, I will tell him you will be there."
The librarian hurries away to ascertain whether Cyrus had indeed returned to Atlasdam. The other three look to Tressa.
"Did you want something from the school as a memento, Tressa?" Primrose asks in amusement.
"Well, school merchandise is always pretty overpriced. I just thought we could take a look!" Tressa wipes her nose and begins walking to the campus store, "I'm always researching the market!"
"How hardworking, indeed," Simeon giggles, "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt just to look."
The four of them enter the campus store. There are other students here, looking to make some last minute purchases. In addition to the usual textbooks, the shop also sells meal plans for students on campus, as well as a tailoring service to fit robes. One can also buy generic sized robes and even spellcasting aids, but the latter require a professor's approval. Miscellaneous items specific to other courses are also sold here, though most of it is books. One can also buy stationary supplies and simple toiletries. There is a small shelf of Academy paraphernalia, consisting of pennants, cheap buttons, and expensive engravings showing the Academy symbol.
"Huh, there's more than I thought!" Tressa looks around like an assessing child in a candy store.
"Perfect for you, hm?" Primrose chuckles and looks the basic robes over, "Hmm... these are quite drab..."
"Because the addition of extra parts to the regalia means a higher status, only base robes would be sold so students can't simply buy an outfitted robe," Simeon points out, "Cyrus' professorial garb is, as you would remember, quite splendid in comparison."
"Yeah, a bit much when I don't think he even cares about it," Tressa sighs, "In his entire bag, not even so much as a lint brush! He cares more for his books than his clothes!"
"He is a dedicated man, which is admirable," Olberic nods and looks over some knickknacks and classroom sets, "Why on earth would students need an entire astrolabe set..."
"Oh, wowee, that looks pricey," Tressa hopes over with an appraising eye, "Huh, of course it was made in the Coastlands! It has the markings of the sailors!"
"Are not all astrolabes used in similar fashions?" Olberic frowns.
"Well, I mean, they're used at sea to navigate by the stars! So obviously, you'd want a sailor's expertise in them, no? That costs extra!" The merchant says as if it were simple fact.
"... This truly must be an academy of privilege," Olberic folds his arms, "Therese I can understand as being very well off... Cyrus... did not strike me similarly
"Hm? Cyrus being... huh," Tressa scratches her head, "I didn't think much about it. I don't think he's poor, for sure. Maybe he'd run out of money though if he saw books he liked..."
"I would imagine he has a good salary," Primrose idly pokes around the uniforms to be worn under the robes. They are quite detailed and also boring because they consist largely of the usual multiple-piece suits with pants or skirts.
The woman they saw before enters the store, along with a familiar face... though smudged with ink.
"Apologies!" Cyrus says with a nervous grin, "I'm afraid I lost track of time!"
"Big surprise" Tressa blows a tuft of hair out of her face, "What, did you fall asleep reading some inky paper last night?"
"As a matter of fact, no!" Cyrus says, pointing to his face smudged with black ink, "This is because I fell asleep on my writing!"
"Ah, so you... wrote yourself to sleep," Simeon chuckles, "How amusing..."
"Cyrus is always a bit of a story around here," The woman chuckles as well, "You amuse the students so."
"Oh, you wound me so, Mercedes," Cyrus sighs as he wipes himself down a little with his cravat, "I do think it grants some credit as invaluable work ethic, no?"
"Mercedes?" Primrose's attention perks up at the name.
"Ah, where are my manners! Yes, this is Mercedes," Cyrus introduces the woman beside him, "She is a fellow scholar, colleague, and master librarian of Atlasdam Academy!"
"Oh, salutations indeed," Simeon bows, "You must have quite the number of people asking for your assistance... perhaps myself included in the near future."
"Oh? Are you looking for a certain book?" Mercedes blinks.
"I am a playwright by trade. All books are welcome sources of inspiration."
"That is Simeon," Cyrus nods in agreement, "Sharp words indeed, my friend. And this is Primrose."
"Pleasure," The dancer curtsies just a little, her eyes still fixated on Mercedes.
"And this is Tressa, my newest pupil!" Cyrus says with some pride, "I am her teacher on the road for arcane practice!"
"Heya! You must hear a lot from him all the time, don't you?" Tressa waves a little, to Mercedes' amusement.
"And, last but most certainly not least, Sir Olberic!" Cyrus announces, "He's the legendary knight himself from Hornburg, you know."
An almost comedic silence crashes down at the professor's careless introduction and reveal. Mercedes stares and blinks a little, as if overwhelmed for a second by the sheer information.
"Well, that's … nice..." She says as if that is all there is to say, "I mean, it is nice to meet you all, friends of Cyrus..."
"He was totally joking about Olberic!" Tressa laughs loudly and elbows Cyrus repeatedly in the gut, "His parents were just fans of the legend and named him like that!"
"Urk-" Cyrus winces, doubling over a little.
"Uh, right..." Mercedes smiles to Olberic, "Nice to meet you..."
"Mhm..." Olberic nods awkwardly.
"Likewise..." Primrose clears her throat, "You wouldn't happen to be someone from the Riverlands, would you?"
Mercedes looks to her in surprise, "Oh, why, as a matter of fact, yes... I moved here from Clearbrook years ago..."
"... I see..." Primrose says quietly. There is little doubt about it... she has to be...
"Anyways, I was just about to go and report my findings on Yvon and Lucia to the Academy board and mayhaps even King Osred himself!" Cyrus declares, "You call may feel free to join me or peruse the grounds as you wish."
"That isn't your authority, professor," Mercedes gives him a stern chop on the head, "Most people still think you are on sabbatical, myself included. I'm sure no shortage of gossip has come about you parading yourself around as it is..."
Olberic glances around. It is true that some students seem interested in what is going on. Some look only to Cyrus. Others don't seem to care and mind their own business.
"... Perhaps we ought to go then," The warrior clears his throat, "To avoid stirring a ruckus."
"I don't really wanna go to some boring meeting..." Tressa scratches her head, "I'll keep looking around!"
"I, too, came for the content in the academy rather than the administration..." Simeon says.
"Hm..." Primrose seems to think for a second, "Simeon, Tressa, why don't you both have Mercedes give you a tour... while me and Olberic here accompany the professor to his little conference? Then you can look around all you want."
Olberic catches the look from the dancer and merely nods in agreement.
"I mean, I guess," Tressa folds her arms behind her head, "Sounds better than attending some stuffy meeting about... whatever."
"We will be in your care, Miss Mercedes," Simeon smiles.
"Ah, yes, indeed..." Mercedes looks to Cyrus, "Well, good luck then, I guess... Though maybe you will have better luck than I think..."
"This is hardly a matter of luck, Mercedes... There is grave danger at hand, and I must have the higher ups understand this no matter what...!" Cyrus nods with a determined smile, "I will be off then."
Mercedes watches as Cyrus leaves, flanked by the dancer and warrior, into the main halls of the Academy. The librarian sighs and looks to Tressa still appraising some trinkets and Simeon looking to her with anticipation.
"Do you worry for him?" Simeon follows her gaze a little back to where it lay and smiles, "Fret not. Prim is a superb speaker... I'm sure Cyrus is in good hands."
"Oh, that's only that's unfortunately only the tip of the iceberg with him," Mercedees sighs and shrugs in resignation, "But I think he might actually know what he's doing... call it a hunch... Ah, anyways, would you both like to follow me to the library then? I'm late as it is to open up."
"Ah, yes, please."
…
The thief's labored breathing and pained expression increased suddenly around noon. Alfyn looks worriedly as Therion appears to be wheezing to draw breath. The apothecary quickly checks the wounds on the thief. The primary wound is an angry red, showing that it is indeed trying to heal...
"An infection...?" Alfyn crinkles his brow in thought, "Hang on, Therion..."
"Let me know how I can help!" Ophilia chimes in.
"Get me some cold water... actually, just water! I'll work on cooling it!" Alfyn says affirmatively.
H'aanit and Linde stay out of the way of the healers. H'aanit keeps her eyes around the ingresses and egresses of the inn while Linde seems alert for what may be outside the building. Ophilia runs out to refill a bucket that Alfyn uses for the washer rags. The apothecary apologizes to the unconscious thief as he goes to check his mouth. Cupping his hand under Therion's jaw, he opens the thief's mouth and tries to see if the throat is swollen. Therion's breath can be heard rasping and gagging a little.
"... Is there something...?" Alfyn reaches two fingers in to sweep Therion's throat opening. The thief gags and begins coughing once he pulls off.
Ophilia brings in the water and uses her light to give Alfyn a better visual. By now, Therion is coughing rather strongly. Alfyn turns him on his side so that he can vomit and not swallow any mucus.
"Ugh..." Therion's eyes seem to flicker under their lids feverishly.
"... Whatten aileth him so?" H'aanit frowns from the doorway, "Twas not a simple wound?"
"I dunno if it's an infection or poison but... it's starting to look more like the latter fer sure," Alfyn purses his lips and checks the wound again, "But could also be from the wound being so close to the lungs. Might be filling with blood, squishing the lungs..."
"What do we do?" Ophilia looks on, not sure how else to help, "If the blood is inside, then even if I should mend the wound, it wouldn't help..."
"Yeah... Gotta drain it..." Alfyn's gears are turning and he quickly pulls out a small knife, "Alright, Lia, I'm really gonna need your help to make sure Therion doesn't bleed to death..."
"Of course..." Ophilia readies her healing, "I'll do my best."
Alfyn feels a little along the upper part of Therion's torso for tenderness. He ascertains it really is blood filling one side of his chest. Flipping the thief onto his front, Alfyn locates the place where he would make approximately the shallowest cut. Numbing it with his cooling touch, he then makes the incision.
H'aanit is only able to watch a few seconds before looking away. She had seen how hunters butchered animals laying before them. It was something she didn't particularly want to witness, especially when it was someone she knew.
…
Within the halls of the Academy, Cyrus, Primrose, and Olberic make their way to the administrative offices. Droves of students stare at the familiar professor.
"Wait, I thought professor Albright was on sabbatical..."
"Professor! I'm glad to see you! See, I need some help with-"
"I'm sorry, not now!" Cyrus says brusquely, "Please consult me at my normal office hours! For now, I have pressing business to attend to!"
"Ehh..."
Primrose garners some looks her way as well. It's not every day a dancer dressed as skimpy as she is comes waltzing into the Academy. She winks here and there at some ogling boys, making them blush and look away.
"Dear Atlasdam board!" Cyrus throws open the doors dramatically to the meeting room, "I bear news you must hear now!"
There is a deadpan silence as they intrude into the large room with a bunch of robed members in the Academy board. They all stare at the professor that just burst in.
"... Erm... Professor Albright?" An older gentleman with a white mustache and monocle squints, "What are you doing here?"
"Yes, we were informed you were placed on sabbatical for... reasons," Another member coughs.
"Yes, but I have returned! And you all must hear what I have learned in my time away," Cyrus strides up to the table, "Headmaster Yvon killed headmaster Franklin!"
There is a silence. One could hear the crickets, if there were any. Primrose softly pinches her nose bridge. Olberic looks a bit embarrassed on behalf of Cyrus, who appears entirely unfazed and serious. Some of the board members cough.
"... Killed Franklin? Why, Professor, I didn't think you would stoop so low!" A board member with a pointed hat stands, "You never had good relations with Yvon, but to actively slander the headmaster's reputation with libel is grounds for your termination!"
"Professor Mortiz, with all due respect, I have … well, unfortunately, the material evidence was largely destroyed... but I have a valid witness!" Cyrus says confidently, "My student, Therese!"
"... Should we not have bought her here, then... or...?" Olberic whispers on the side to the dancer. Primrose merely quietly palms her face.
"Therese? Princess Mary's cousin?"
"Alright, and where is she?" Moritz raises an eyebrow discerningly, "Unless you plan to conjure her up from thin air, along with your ludicrous claims!"
"I will go fetch her if I must. But have none of you found it strange? Where is Yvon right now, at the height of student finals?" Cyrus asks boldly, "It seems a bit irresponsible for the headmaster to be taking time off at this time, no?"
"The headmaster made it known that a family emergency had occurred, and he had to leave posthaste," Another board member, an older woman, lightly covers her mouth with the hood of her caplet, "That's hardly reason to lampoon the man."
"Family emergency? When the man's family has been long dead? Not to mention that his manor in Stonegard is now naught but ash!"
"That is enough, Cyrus!" The board member sitting at the seeming head of the table stands, pushing back his chair, "One more petty lie from your mouth and you are done here!"
"Professor, we really should go get Therese..." Primrose sighs, "She is your best hope of convincing them at this point."
"... Very well, if you refuse to listen to me, then I shall fetch Therese and she will tell you," The scholar gives a dramatic wave of his cape and goes to walk out. The board grumbles as he leaves, some saying things like "good riddance." The door closes behind the three.
"Hmf! To think they refuse to even entertain the notion...!" Cyrus says as he strides forward, "And I had an entire list written out!"
"... Cyrus, you are extremely lucky they didn't fire you then and there. What were you thinking?" Primrose stops and folds her arms, looking sternly at the scholar, "You know all the physical evidence was destroyed. The least you could have been was more persuasive."
"Was my logic failing?" The scholar blinks and looks to the dancer and warrior.
"... You were a bit... direct," Olberic says awkwardly.
"When even Olberic can tell what is wrong, then you know you have put a big foot in your mouth," The dancer gives a tired laugh, "You can't just go in during a meeting brazenly accusing someone when they do not perceive anything amiss. And this is even more true when the opposing party isn't there to defend... and you brought no concrete evidence."
"Well, we are going now to fetch the evidence!" Cyrus declares.
"What guarantee is there that they will listen to Therese's account? They could just dismiss her as a student being told tall tales to regurgitate by you. And that would be even worse!" Primrose sighs in exasperation.
"My dear, the manor being gone... I fear was a follow up act precisely to keep the wool over people's eyes! But that is why they need to listen to reason! Yvon's ascension and all these details... surely someone will figure out that something was amiss all along...!" Cyrus looks to her with passionate determination, "On my pride as a scholar, I will not allow this knowledge to die in the dark of ignorance."
"... If I may..." Olberic clears his throat, "The headmaster likely has his own office, no? Mayhaps there is something of import there?"
"... Now that is an idea," Primrose smiles, "How about you fetch Therese, professor, and me and Olberic will simply have a look around?"
Cyrus blinks at the dancer's smile. It takes him a second before he announces, "I shall fetch her posthaste!"
As the scholar runs off, Olberic looks with apprehension to Prim's expression of brewing mischief. The warrior sighs, "Are you sure about this? We are strangers here..."
"Well, I would truly rather Therion use his expertise... unfortunately, that is not possible. In such a pinch, one has to make do with what they have," The dancer chuckles, "I will need you to keep watch a bit."
"Do you even know what you might be looking for in his study? We do not even know where it is..."
"We passed by a rather illustrious looking hallway decorated by portraits... previous headmasters, I believe. That looks to be a promising start, wouldn't you agree?" She winks.
"..." Olberic sighs louder this time.
…
Tressa wasn't too into things like architecture or historicity of these school grounds. Simeon smiles politely as he listens along. Mercedes is a good guide, by all means. She doesn't drone as much as Cyrus, and she is able to stay on topic easily.
"... And those lamplight designs are actually part of a new and upcoming project, entirely from student invention," Mercedes points to two innocuous lamps by the school central junction, "They will be powered using a different source, one that lasts much longer, so that the ones who light lamps will only need to change them once every tenday or so."
"A different source?" Simeon raises an eyebrow.
"Are they gonna use oil?" Tressa asks.
"No, supposedly, they want to try gas," Mercedes smiles, "It is still a project in progress, and this is their first practical application. It will be quite revolutionary if this succeeds..."
"Gas...?" Tressa rubs her chin in thought.
"Ah, I had heard of this... it is something utilizing coal, no?" Simeon points out, "In some mining towns, they would use coals to maintain fires for much longer periods of time..."
"Yes, sort of. Coals are very dirty, unfortunately, and we would worry about adverse health effects on our students. However, supposedly, using the gas from coals itself is cleaner... Atlasdam is also a city farther away from locations that have such sources of coal," Mercedes shrugs, "I suppose it won't be so revolutionary until the supply problem is also straightened out."
"Yeah, it sounds like a one-time gimmick pet project thing," Tressa folds her arms, "Could sell as an idea, maybe, but it'd take a loooootta investment to get that off a pier."
"Well, Atlasdam Academy has always been behind fostering a healthy sense of curiosity in its students. Sometimes, following the same old same old is very dull," Mercedes smiles.
They come to the grand library at last, where Mercedes has to excuse herself to push through the hordes of early students waiting for the doors to open. Tressa and Simeon follow in with the early birds and gaze upon the walls of books. Simeon immediately gravitates towards the creative writing sections of poetry and epics.
"Hrnn..." Tressa looks around with scrutiny as she approaches the main desk where Mercedes oversees the establishment, "I gotta say, libraries aren't my thing."
"Oh? No books catch your fancy at all?" The librarian looks to her.
"I've always been more of a doer!" Tressa points a thumb at herself, "I learned to raise Kuzco all by myself! And all my tricks of the trade are from experience!"
"Well, it is true that experience is the best teacher," Mercedes looks towards some walls of books fondly, "But when you can't experience everything, it'd be nice to at least read about it, is how I like to think about that."
"But so many books are just musty old things, aren't they? They're so dry and all," Tressa sticks out her tongue, "If you wanna tell me a story, tell it yourself and not just by reading me to sleep!"
"Ahaha... I will say... I am surprised you are a traveling companion of Cyrus. And his student, at that. He loves books to death."
"Well, our lessons haven't used any books. Plus, even if he is a total dweeb sometimes, can't deny that he's got a lot of magic under his belt," Tressa now looks to Mercedes, "Actually, are you also a Gate by any chance?"
"Oh, me? No, I'm afraid not," Mercedes chuckles, "I have often looked with some wonder at how that might feel... but I think I am ultimately content."
"Hmm..." Tressa rests her chin on the desk now, bored again.
"Do you know what Cyrus was going on about that he needed to see the board so urgently? I didn't quite understand what he was getting at..."
"Oh, riiiight..." Tressa sighs and gestures for Mercedes to lean in, "I can tell ya but you can't freak out, okay? It's a bit of a big thing, if you get what I mean."
Mercedes blinks and nods a bit cautiously.
"So, basically, your headmaster, the Yvon guy? He tried to kill Cyrus and Therese. You know Therese, right? Some cousin of royalty or whatever?"
Mercedes looks to Tressa with some incredulity. She stifles a small 'pft.'
"... That is quite a story."
"It ain't a tall tale, lady, listen!" Tressa says with a childish pout, "I was there! I saw with my own two eyes!"
"What exactly did you see?"
"If I wasn't right there, I wouldn't have believed it. Yvon was using something to raise his magic. It was some weird blood stone or something... And then he turned into a huge monster and Cyrus had to swoop in to beat him up! He almost died...!" The merchant seems to be having a hard time keeping her voice low in the library as she tells the story.
"..." Mercedes looks like she's trying to tell if Tressa is just crazy or lying.
"Hnnn... It's hard to tell it to someone who wasn't there..." Tressa grumbles in frustration as she plunks her head on the table, "And whoever that Lucia woman was also took off after cleaning up their tracks..."
"Lucia?" Mercedes blinks again, "Well... it is true that both Lucia and Yvon are currently absent from the Academy... But Lucia requested a leave days before the headmaster..."
"Did they give any reason?"
"Well, Yvon claimed a family emergency... Lucia... I am unsure. I'm sure it was something routine..."
"How long's she been gone for?" Tressa now asks with some interest.
"... It has been... a bit. She didn't file a request for a research trip... nor an excuse like Yvon's..." Mercedes now seems to think to herself, "Her classes actually needed quite a bit of help to cover because of the proximity to finals..."
"Y'see, something fishy, right? Did she take off like that before?" Tressa seizes on the trail.
"... No... in fact, she was known for almost never taking days off..."
The librarian looks to Tressa, "But that doesn't prove your story, which remains quite... outlandish. This is perhaps just something to be looked into..."
"That works, as long as we can get that cleared up. We dunno where she is and it'd sure as heck be a lotta help to have more people on her tail..." Tressa sighs, "Cyrus was worried cuz she's got some book with her, the Beyond Hell or something..."
Mercedes' eyes widen a little. She glances away in the next moment, still quite pensive. She had heard this connection before from Cyrus. The book Beyond the Far Reaches of Hell went missing shortly after Franklin's death and also coincided with Yvon being named headmaster. Lucia was promoted from being a mere teacher's assistant to a fully fledge professor at around the same time frame. But that was all just a coincidence... right?
It should have been something put to bed. However, now it seems to be resurfacing in the form of a ridiculous story...
Tressa sees the gears turning in the librarian's head and smiles, "Gotcha thinking, huh?"
"... Again, it doesn't prove what you said... but there could be something strange afoot..." Mercedes sighs, "And, unfortunately, I doubt the board will find it anything worth investigating..."
…
Olberic wasn't sure what Primrose hoped to find that would be so incriminating. Surely the man had covered his tracks in his own office of all places.
Nonetheless, the warrior stands outside in the hall, arms folded over his broad chest. His head occasionally swivels this way and that to make sure no one was coming their way. Luckily, the students seem to be in classes at the moment.
"... Anything yet?" He says over his shoulder into the ajar doors of the office.
Primrose scoffs, "I'll let you know."
The dancer daintily steps around the office, looking at the shelves and wall of personal achievements. Given the portraits of the man on the wall, no doubt self-commissioned, Primrose gets the same impression as anyone else of this office. It is Yvon's altar to himself.
And she thought Helgenish was a narcisstic pig.
"Let's see... secrets, maybe?" She gets to looking at his organized shelves of esoteric novels. She pulls a few of them out. Then, she moves on to inspect the busts and even behind the portrait.
At last, she comes to his desk. The man keeps a neat and orderly office, that is for sure. His desk is void of papers. There are some drawers, but some of them are locked...
The dancer rolls her eyes. Of all the times for the thief to be unavailable.
She resorts to using the tip of her dagger to try and work the lock. There is a crack when she gets frustrated and ends up breaking it open. Oh well. What does a dead man need from locks anymore?
Inside, she finds what look to be files on students, specifically those from his senior research classes. They are older students and some of them look just the slightest bit familiar...
These were the ones she saw down in the underground in Stonegard... those being controlled by the blood stones...
It's not solid proof, but it's something. She keeps looking and pulls out a small bundle of letters as well as a ledger book. The book has numbers and descriptions of costs that she can't be bothered to even try and understand. Someone could come through the door right this very moment. These letters though... they aren't marked with an address for return. They merely say Yvon's name. There is another set in there, with what look like letters that are addressed only to a house in Quarrycrest...
Olberic is fretting a bit outside as it seems the ongoing classes end and suddenly students begin to trickle out into the halls. They were running out of time.
"Excuse me?" A person with the decorated cape of a professor pokes his head down the hall and spots the big lug, "Who are you?"
"Erm..." Olberic fails to improvise a good excuse quickly, "I … am looking for the... headmaster."
"Headmaster Yvon is unfortunately out at the moment on a family emergency... are you a guest?" The professor, a dark-skinned man with spectacles, looks Olberic over with a hint of suspicion in his eyes, "Are you authorized to be on the campus grounds?"
"... If the headmaster isn't here," Olberic says loudly, hoping Primrose can hear him from inside, "Then I shall be making my leave."
"Now just a moment-"
"Oh, so sorry!"
Right on cue, Primrose pops her head out from behind the door. She's carrying a new satchel. Olberic can only guess where she got that from, since she certainly didn't enter with one.
"So, so, sorry, we were just looking around a little, ah, yes, we were looking for the Headmaster and Professor Cyrus, remember?" Primrose looks to Olberic like she can't believe that he forgot.
"Uh, professor Cyrus is also out-"
"Oh, no, haven't you heard? He's returned to the Academy. And he invited us in. Of course, the silly professor appears to be late, and so we were just left to wander!" Primrose says with some credible impatience, "We should go wait for him by the front entrance after all!"
"Uh-"
"Could you be a dear and show us the way?" Primrose bats her eyes a bit at the professor. Olberic watches, a bit unnerved, as the dancer's otherworldly charm takes place.
The strings of the soul can be twirled around her finger.
"R-right this way..." The professor gives a giggly grin like a silly doofus and escorts them back towards the building entrance. As a reward, Primrose blows him a small kiss to send him off once they were in the clear.
"Fuuu... that was a close one," The dancer mutters, "You could have made a more elaborate show of an excuse, you know."
"... I am not... accustomed to putting on such a show," Olberic says, looking away, "Anyways, it seems you did find something...?"
"Yes, luck does seem to favor the brave," The dancer chuckles, "And, well, even if that excuse didn't work, I had about a dozen more stories prepared to tell. Like how we were secret lovers and having some hidden liaison."
Olberic flushes cherry red at the dancer's brazen lie and looks to her with incredulity. She smirks and giggles in amusement at his reaction.
"Gods, Olberic, it was just a joke."
"... Please, do not even."
...
Therese had no idea what Cyrus was up to when he suddenly showed up breathless at her doorstep in the morning. She hadn't even gone to inform the school services that she had returned yet.
"Therese! Good! You're still here!" Cyrus points back to the school building, "The board... we have to tell them everything!"
"W-what?" The girl blinks, barely having finished breakfast, "Professor, what are you..."
"Therese, who is it this early?" Her mother calls from the dining table.
"There is little time to explain. We must expose what Yvon and Lucia were pulling behind the scenes," Cyrus says seriously, "Will you help me, Therese?"
"...! Let me get dressed!"
Therese practically flew up the stairs and just threw on a simple sundress before running back downstairs. She hastily told her parents she was going to class. She said it so fast that she isn't sure they heard. She didn't really hear if they called for her. All she knows is, this is a way that only she can help Cyrus.
"Ready!" She bursts out the front door of her home now and almost topples Cyrus by running into him, "O-oh! S-sorry!"
"Ahaha, it is quite alright, my dear! Let us!"
Together with her professor, Therese returns to the familiar hall of the school building. Classes seem to be resuming after a brief pause for transition. Near the door to the main building, she and Cyrus see Olberic and Primrose waiting by the door. The dancer waves with an innocuous smile. She seems to have a new bag slung over her shoulder.
"There you two are!"
"Prim! Sir Olberic!" Cyrus waves, "I have returned with Therese! Shall we return to the board chambers?"
"You might want to bring these as well, then," Primrose pats the bag she stole from Yvon's room with the papers she swiped, "Actual proof courtesy of the headmaster's office."
"My! You actually pilfered...!" Cyrus looks to her in surprise, "I am surprised the man kept those, being as secretive as he was..."
"Likely, some of it was blackmail purposes," The dancer shrugs, "Anyway, let's get going before those old timers forget what they were even talking about."
Olberic looks to Therese, "Are you feeling up to the task?"
"Oh, of course!" Therese nods enthusiastically, "I can do at least this much!"
The four of them move with some air of confidence back up to the board office, where the session has yet to conclude. Once, again, Cyrus throws the doors open with bravado. Several eyes roll and mouths scoff at his return.
"Oh. You actually bothered young Therese for this."
"Forgive my earlier presentation, ladies and gentlemen!" Cyrus announces, "I have now gathered all necessary evidence for you to hear!"
"Gods, Cyrus..."
"Please, listen!" Therese pipes up with some encouragement from the dancer, "The professor is telling the truth! The headmaster tried to kill me!"
At that allegation from her lips, the board seems a bit more intrigued.
"... Lady Therese, that is a... rather bold assertion," The pointed hat member looks to her with suspicion, "Whatever prompted this? You had requested leave from your classes recently, no...?"
"Yes, I did, and I did so because I uncovered the headmaster's plot... At the time, professor Albright was on sabbatical. Headmaster Yvon took his leave not to visit his family... but to hunt and kill professor Albright when he would not be missed," Therese states firmly, "And he might have killed me as well, if professor Albright hadn't stepped in and saved me."
"... You have much explaining for such a lurid story," The monocled member adjusts his spec, "Perhaps you had best start from the beginning?"
Therese can feel those eyes on her now, as if she were a subject of interrogation. A slight sweat builds. However, at her side, she glances from the corner of her eye to see Cyrus look at her with encouragement. She feels some courage well up in herself. She takes a breath and exhales.
"Alright, let me begin from when I first overheard the headmaster's scheming with Lucia..."
…
It was a good and long discussion as Therese unraveled her side of the story, from deciding she would tail Yvon to warn Cyrus, to being kidnapped and held in his manor in Stonegard. Cyrus held onto the documents that Prim got from Yvon's office till after Therese was done, so as not to interject during her story.
The Academy board was expectedly resistant to their claims. They questioned Therese again and again if this was all some joke. The girl remained steadfast, and even Primrose was impressed.
When the evidences were lain bare, some of the board had to reconsider their positions. The students listed on those papers had been missing for a while now. They were seniors assumed to be working on a thesis under Yvon, and yet no one had heard a word on their whereabouts. The news of a fire in Stonegard, decimating the mansion that was supposed to be Yvon's family manor had also arrived to Atlasdam. Additionally, the correspondences to Gideon, though partially destroyed, were still damning to find in Yvon's study.
Of course, some of the hardest necked members were quick to accuse that Cyrus could have planted the evidence. However, the news on the grotesque crimes in Quarrycrest had arrived in Atlasdam earlier, by a report from Odette. Her report also placed Cyrus as a key figure in helping to solve the murders. And so, the accusations were dismantled.
"... This is quite the news..."
King Osred II strokes his clipped beard as he pores over the report from the board findings. They had ultimately agreed to begin a formal investigation into Yvon and Lucia's dealings, given the evidence. Hiring already has to commence to replace their positions, and the board momentarily is taking over the position of Headmaster.
"To think that Yvon and Lucia were the masterminds behind something so horrible... A notice for the capture of Lucia must be issued at once. And Yvon as well... if he is not truly dead."
"That is a wise decision, my King," His raven-haired vizier says, looking out the window towards the city of scholarly pursuits. Her lips are drawn into a thin smile.
"Yvon... I knew him as a young man. He was always so witty and intelligent... to think he went and murdered Franklin with such ambition... and used a student like Lucia as well..."
"Human hearts are opaque to one another. You cannot blame yourself, my King."
"Your guidance through this time has been invaluable, Lyblac," Osred sighs as he puts the report down, "These are frightening times... when one cannot even trust those they always believed to be upstanding."
Lyblac turns, her red eyes looking to the king with an inscrutable expression of a smile, "But, of course, my King."