Player 0.4 [You have died.] [Reset in progress.]

Laughter drifted from the table on the terrace.

​The trombone of the laughter was the sort only someone who led a life of privilege and abundance could muster.

​Though the rest of the restaurant was not privy to their laughter, conversation, nor even view of the three individuals. The three sat in a private area that was enchanted to hide them from the rest of the restaurant’s diners.​

“Ah, to be young.” The youngest of the three men smiled and lifted his cup of tea to his lips.

Vincent Corwin was in his mid-forties, and unlike the two other men, had an abundance of lush, brown hair on his head. He gazed out over the restaurant’s terrace railing, toward the magnificent view the three of them shared.

​Far in the distance, snow-capped northern peaks of the Shelanna Mountains pierced the cloud-speckled blue sky. Below them stretched a flourishing green valley, rich with life, and to the west, the Great Caspian Ocean glittered beneath the late afternoon sun.

​A fly had flown into view, but its appearance didn’t take away from the beauty beyond one bit. Quite the opposite, Vincent had been expecting its appearance.

​“Your son is evidently poised for a remarkable ascent,” Abbot Mather said mildly.

​Abbot was Vincent’s partner within the same secret order. He was in his late forties, and while far from bald, his hair was already completely grey. Stress was to blame. The poor man saw danger in every corner and shadow. But it was also why he was so capable at what he did.

​“I’ve looked into it,” Abbot continued speaking. “There will be no difficulty ensuring your son’s appointment as a junior minister under His Majesty, Simeon the Third. The foundations are already laid.”

​The third man, a fat baron, with thin whiskers and a maroon chaperon atop his head, hiding his baldness, grinned, “Glad to hear it.”

​His sausage fingers, fitted with golden rings he’d likely put on when he was a thinner man, waved toward his man-servant, standing out of hearing range of the table, though within the private quarters of the terrace.

​The servant moved instantly, presenting a thin blue folder before retreating back to the wall without being dismissed.

​“As promised,” the baron stated, nudging the report across the table, “here’s what my people uncovered regarding the matter you asked about.”

​Abbot picked it up, his brows furrowing almost immediately.

​“It’s quite thin,” he stated, his fingers fluttering through the pages.

​Vincent glanced over. From the looks of it, there were only four or so pages.

​“That’s unusually light,” Vincent remarked. “Especially for you.”

Lord Acton normally could be counted on to provide ample information on whomever their organization needed. And in this case, the trade was with the baron’s eldest son’s career on the line. There was ample incentive to do a thorough investigation.

​However, Lord Acton shrugged, unconcerned. “The absence is the point. A lack of information is information itself.”

​Abbot flipped through the pages again, slower this time. “According to your report, the boy is an orphan of negligible means. Born in a tiny woodland village. Parents deceased during the Great War. He has no surviving relatives of note.”

​Abbot’s gaze turned to Lord Acton. “This is hardly any different from the documents submitted to the academy for his enrollment.”

​“Exactly,” Lord Acton said. “The village listed in his documentation exists. My people confirmed that much. Two hundred and two living residents, and my people spoke to all of them.”

​“And?” Abbot prompted, flipping the report to see the results for himself.

​“And not a single one provided an acceptable account,” Acton replied.

​“Acceptable account?” Abbot glanced up, raising a brow.

​“Only five villagers claimed to recognize his name. But all provided varying basic details. And two couldn’t even recall his face with any certainty. The rest of the villagers remembered nothing at all of him. Human memory is fallible….”

​“Or they were paid off.” Abbot frowned, flipping to the last page.

​Lord Acton nodded. “If this were a formal investigation, I would have had no choice but to state that his background aligns with the academy’s records. Everything is technically in order.”

​Abbot looked up sharply. “Technically.”

​Lord Acton smiled thinly. “My intuition—earned over three decades of doing this work—is that every document associated with Luca Frey was forged. Expertly, as I cannot prove it.”

​He didn’t linger much longer after that. The baron rose, adjusted his chaperon, and excused himself, leaving Vincent and Abbot alone at the terrace table.

​Vincent watched him leave out of view before speaking.

​“You heard him. What does your intuition say?” Vincent nodded his chin toward Abbot, though he was quite certain of his answer already.

​Abbot did not hesitate.

​“An other-worlder,” he replied. “Unnaturally high talent paired with a background that does not support it. This is a textbook scenario our predecessors warned us about.”

​Vincent nodded and lifted the white porcelain teapot from the table.

​“And you, Carmilla? What is your take?” He inquired. “I presume you found out something else of note regarding Luca, given you’re here?”

​Vincent tilted the tea to flow into a cup held by a woman who had just materialized where their baron friend had just sat.

​She was younger than the two men, only twenty-nine. She was dressed in all-black robes, and her tightly knotted braids fell to her shoulders, with colorful mana-stone beads at every strand.

​“I agree that Luca Frey is… peculiar,” she said. “But I cannot accept such a conclusion at this time.”

​Her gaze flicked toward Abbot. Her expression was sharp.

​“I’d hate to bring about another Soteria Demonic Trial.”

​The name landed heavily between them.

​A decade earlier, thirty women and twelve men had been executed, suspected of being inflicted by otherworldly corruption: demons in human flesh.

​Of course, postpartum evidence showed that no demons were ever involved.

​However, the damage had been dealt, and Carmilla’s elder sister had been among the dead. A victim of the vicious finger-pointing and wave of fear that had swept the town.​

The chain of blame was long and tangled, but its first link had been Abbot’s concern over a single mage whose rise had been too fast, too brilliant. It was a valid concern, but it led to a suspicion that had spread outward, mutating into something indiscriminate and cruel.

Carmilla initially sought out Eclipse to seek revenge.

​However, Vincent had persuaded her to set aside her vengeance and instead join the three-thousand-year-old secret organization as a voice of reason to prevent another disaster such as the one that took her sister’s life.

​To this day, she hasn’t completely forgiven Abbot for his carelessness a decade ago. But she had grown to understand that he was a man guided by fear, borne out of his earnest wish to protect. And as flawed as he was, his intuition had done a lot of good as well.

​Abbot shifted slightly, uncomfortable, at her sharp gaze.

​“Moreover,” Carmilla went on, “talent should be cultivated and brought into Eclipse to further our mission, rather than be squashed out of existence at the slightest suspicion of an evil other-worldly entity being involved.”

​At this Abbot’s eyes narrowed.

​“Did you find out where Alice Crest disappeared to?” he inquired pointedly. “I suspected her to be a danger back when she was first brought into the academy two years ago and scored so high on the mana core exam.”

​Carmilla frowned. “And she was cleared of all suspicion two years ago. Thoroughly. Alice was simply gifted.”

​“And yet,” Abbot pressed, “shortly after being brought into the folds of Eclipse—after gaining access to our ancient tomes and archives—she vanished? Hah! She was merely biding her time!”

​“That does not make her guilty,” Carmilla snapped.

​However, knowing what she knew of Alice, she hated to admit that Abbot may have been half right.

​“Enough,” Vincent cut in. His voice was calm, but final.

​He turned to Carmilla. “What did you find?”

​She took a measured sip of tea, allowing herself to cool off after the heated exchange with Abbot.

​“Luca has an elemental attached to him—a shadow elemental,” she stated.

​Both men stilled, with differing expressions.

​“I’ve never heard of a shadow elemental,” Abbot said. “Whatever that thing is, it’s further evidence he is an other-worlder.”

​“It was identified as being a shadow elemental by the young lady of House Lister,” Carmilla replied curtly. “Paisley Lister even extended her hand to help Luca train it.”

​Vincent smiled faintly.

​“Well,” he said, “that is interesting.”

​He poured the last of the milky oolong into his cup and took a slow sip of the now-cooled tea.

​“We will decide what to do about Luca Frey at the next Eclipse gathering,” Vincent continued. “Until then, we’ll continue to observe and investigate.”

​Abbot clicked his tongue in clear displeasure.​

Carmilla, for her part, released a silent breath of relief.

​Eclipse convened only a handful of times each year—always in different locations, always dictated by the movement of the heavens, depending on where the next eclipse could be observed.

​Carmilla lifted her gaze to the pale sky, toward the faint suggestion of the moon, barely visible in the daylight.

​The next eclipse will occur exactly two months from now.

​And it would rise over the southern desert nation of Nehaus.

​

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

~Master, what do you plan on doing regarding that fly?​

I sighed.

​What did I plan on doing?

​My index finger tapped absently against the parchment spread before me as I sat in the academy library, surrounded by towering shelves and enforced silence.

​The Random Character Checker had provided very valuable insight regarding Carmilla Aleicard. And at the same time, it was very troublesome, in that acting upon it would require venturing out beyond my comfort zone.

​I sighed again.

​“What’s with you?”

​I turned to find a familiar blond-haired young man standing behind me.

​Dmitry leaned over my shoulder, peering down at the map spread across the table.

​“Are you planning to travel somewhere—?” His brows raised up as he took in the markings. “Oh. That’s not far at all. You could ride a trolley there.” He glanced at me, puzzled. “Why would you need a map?”

​Why indeed.

​Because the Random Character Checker had provided me with the coordinates of where the fly—or rather, Carmilla Aleicard—currently resided. And I had needed a map just to figure out where in the world those coordinates actually led.

​“I’ve never gone off campus since arriving here,” I admitted.

​Dmitry blinked. Then his eyes sparkled.

​“Really?” A grin spread across his face. “Well, in that case, I’d be happy to be your tour guide.” He paused, then added thoughtfully, “Come to think of it, it’s been nearly a month since I’ve gone to the city center myself…”

​He seemed to be doing mental math in midair.

​I smiled at his offer. Having a local guide through an unfamiliar city sounded far safer than venturing out alone. “That would be great.”

​“Do you have any classes left today?” he asked suddenly.

​I frowned.

​He doesn’t mean—

​“Well… no. Not today, but—”

​“Perfect!” Dmitry clapped his hands together. “Then let’s go now.”

​“Now?” I stared at him. “Why now? I—I don’t even have any money.”

​I gave the first excuse that came to mind.

​“And I have loads,” Dmitry winked. “Come on. It’s the second day of the week, the first of the month. That means the royal mages will be touring through the city square today.”

​His expression turned almost reverent.

​“They’re incredible,” he added. “It’s my dream to become one after I graduate.”

​I glanced back down at the map.

​“…Alright,” I said.

​It couldn’t hurt to go now, rather than keep pushing it off. Better to get used to this realm and the city I'd eventually need to venture into to investigate my stalker.

​

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