Chương 82: Powerful Figures

"Is everything alright, Headmaster?" Yulkaviel asked. Alaric quickly turned around with a smile plastered on his face.

"Yes, quite alright." He had been taking the Rhellian dignitary on another campus tour. There wasn't much time left for him at Arcoryx so they had decided to make the most of it. Alaric didn't mind because the elvhenan appeared to genuinely enjoy his time at the academy, compared to his time outside it. Alaric had thought he'd showcase how Arcoryx tended to handle their exams. What he hadn't counted on was the exam's proctor being Ryland.

What he really hadn't expected was a full pitched battle between Ryland and the students he was invigilating. Mana Manifestation. That had to be the class he had just witnessed. Academ Kastor always unfailingly instilled a strange, rebellious fire in his students. It was perhaps the only black mark on an otherwise spotless teaching record for the Academ. Accursed Realms, to a lot of other Academs, it wasn't even a black mark. His students were motivated to do well, after all.

To Alaric, it was just a source of headaches. Overly motivated students did a lot of things well, including being a nuisance. Not once in the history of Mana Manifestation while he had been a Headmaster—or even during his time as an Academ and High Academ—had any proctor of that class's exam ever come out of it with their spirits intact. Teachers dreaded getting assigned that class. The unfortunate faculty member who got the short end of the stick were often subtly shunned.

Like they were an omen of misfortune or something along those lines. Meanwhile, Academ Kastor would always mysteriously grow wealthier and become an increasingly respected figure leading up to the midterms. And then all that appreciation and honour would disappear when the time came for midterms. In fact, he became even more shunned than whoever was forced to invigilate his class's midterm. A frankly ridiculous set of events.

But Alaric had learned that when one was the Headmaster of an institution like Arcoryx Academy, one had to get used to such things. But now, those extremely uppity students could finally receive some comeuppance. Incredible. After all this time, after so many decades, Ryland was upending an almost historical occurrence. If only he hadn't been doing it so chaotically. He was fine with students using whatever magic they had learned to do well on their exams.

It was a proud tradition that Arcoryx Academy had maintained for ages. But Ryland had started conducting what could easily be mistaken for a small extinction event upon academy students, so Alaric had promptly decided it was not at all an appropriate display for a foreign dignitary. Things had devolved to such a degree within that room that Alaric was half-tempted to call for assistance. But then, he recalled seeing Ryland of all people in there, so he decided it was best not to get involved any further.

"Is there no exam in that room?" Yulkaviel asked. His old, shrewd eyes confirmed he hadn't missed a single thing.

"No," Alaric said quickly.

"No exams at all. I was mistaken. Come along, Your Worship. There is a much better exam hall that I just remembered on the very other side of campus." Alaric almost had to bodily drag the old elvhenan away. And he was convinced that, despite not having seen what had just happened, Yulkaviel's interest in Ryland had just grown even more. The next day, Ryland finally got back all the answer sheets from his class's midterms.

Arcoryx Academy's administration tended to wait a bit before returning the scripts to the respective teachers.

"You really stopped all the students from cheating?" one of the officials asked with no small amount of wonder. One could be mistaken for thinking that what Ryland had actually accomplished was healing an incurable disease.

"For Mana Manifestation of all classes?"

"I did," Ryland said.

"It wasn't a terribly big issue."

"Not a terribly big issue, he says…" another official muttered.

"How many students were there?" the first one asked.

"One hundred? Two?"

"Three hundred and nine per my count."

"Over three hundred." The fellow looked so much like he was going to faint that Ryland was momentarily concerned for his sake. Thankfully, he recovered quickly.

"I've never even heard of Mana Manifestation class getting stymied," the other official said.

"I wonder if Academ Kastor will pay you a visit, sub-Academ Ryland."

"I'd be happy to meet him if he has any concerns," Ryland said. He was let go afterwards. Good thing too. Ryland was surprised to discover that he was a little anxious to discover just how his students had performed on the exam he had set. He couldn't help but wonder just how well Viren had done or Acrypha for that matter. It was unfair of him to think of any of the students of his class as his star pupils, but he'd also be lying if he didn't admit that he thought of them more than anyone else in Intuitive Magic.

Of course, he wasn't the only one wondering how they had all performed. Even before he could reach his office, he was waylaid by his students.

"Sir!" Viren was blocking the way forward, heavily reminding Ryland of the determined looks on the faces of the students in Mana Manifestation.

"Have you looked at the tests yet? Do you know how I-I mean we performed?"

"I haven't had the chance to look at them yet, Viren," Ryland said.

"I told you." Acrypha appeared from behind like she had been positioned to block Ryland's exit too, in case he got past Viren.

"We came too early. Of course sir hasn't had the time to check anything. He had to proctor other exams just like every other Academ."

"Well, he's a sub-Academ!" Viren looked up at Ryland apologetically.

"No offence, sir."

"None taken," Ryland said.

"It is the truth, after all." Acrypha marched up to Viren and placed her hand around his wrist in a vice grip.

"Come on. Let's leave sir alone so he can actually get on with it. We have a lot of other things to take care of. Weren't you saying you were going to start preparations for the Welcoming Ceremony?" Ryland had been enthralled by the prospect of returning to his office to check his students' performance, but Acrypha's words distracted him.

"Welcoming Ceremony?" Viren had been unable to get a word in edgewise, but with Ryland's question, he finally got his chance.

"It's for the Prime Minister's arrival to Androvia. Didn't you know, sir? The Royal Court is coming to visit Arcoryx for the first time in half a century or something like that." The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Ryland's eyebrows climbed up his forehead a little.

"Ah! So Faldor is visiting. How intriguing."

"Sir! You can't call the Prime Minister by his name!"

"I thought that was his family name."

"Still!"

"Alright, if you insist. But I reiterate. That's quite intriguing. Do you know what the occasion is?"

"I'm not actually certain…"

"We have had foreign visitors for a while now," Acrypha said. While the conversation was ongoing, she hadn't loosened her grip on Viren's arm. Her face was thoughtful, however.

"We heard a big occasion was coming up for Arcoryx City." Viren frowned at her." We?" Acrypha blushed ever so faintly.

"My family. They will be visiting for some time during the festivities as well."

"Interesting…" Ryland said. He had been intrigued for a while about Acrypha's family. It seemed he might finally meet them. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too distracted by the overarching events. Acrypha finally managed to drag Viren away, leaving Ryland free to get to his office and check all the scripts. Though, his mind couldn't help but focus on the fact that things were moving in far higher circles than he had anticipated. Things were about to be interesting. He could almost feel it.

High Warden Rother hadn't realized he'd be signing up for babysitting duties. But there were far worse people to look after than the Oracle of Androvia." Achoo!" The Oracle sniffled. Several priests and priestesses gathered around her to offer her fresh handkerchiefs, glasses of water, holy incenses, and so many other things, Rother couldn't keep track of them.

"What a bothersome state of affairs," she said with a very thick voice from her clogged nose.

"To think my own magic would return to me in the form of a cold."

"Your magic is certainly one of the strangest I've ever seen, Your Eminence," Rother ended up saying. He was unable to restrain himself, nor could he be blamed for it. The High Warden had been a perfect host for a long time now. He was allowed some lapses here and there. Especially when Oracle Vertha didn't appear to mind. Maybe she was just grateful that he was lending her his tent. Her priests and priestesses did shoot him several venomous looks, though.

"I just hope it recedes in time for the Prime Minister's arrival," the Oracle said. She didn't sound miserable, but there was a certain apprehension even she couldn't hide.

"Can you imagine it? Walking through the gates of Arcoryx City in that big procession, sneezing and sniffling and coughing all the time."

"Great Gods forbid such a horror," a priest cried out. Several of his juniors echoed the same sentiment, making praying gestures heavenward. Rother just shook his head.

"It would be memorable at the very least."

"I think we've had enough memories for one month…" the Oracle said. True enough. Perhaps she was fortunate that the reversal of her own powers hadn't been even more severe. At the time, after her initial injuries had been healed by Marionys Ryland, Rother had thought that was it. The effects of her Soul Glyph of Judgment had been dealt with. It turned out the divine magic couldn't be suppressed so easily.

There were lingering effects, complications that befuddled the High Warden even now, moments where he wasn't certain what sort of effect the Oracle's magic would produce. Vertha appeared to be perfectly okay with it, however. Hard footsteps neared the tent far outside Arcoryx City. There was a bit of commotion, and the High Warden's manasoul came alive instinctively. But he relaxed when his Inscribed Glyph of Perception notified him that it was merely one of the Warden Mage guards he had posted.

The fellow was agitated however, so Rother couldn't rest easy just yet.

"Sir," the man said as he entered the tent and offered a short bow to Her Eminence first before turning to his superior.

"They've arrived far faster than we had anticipated. In fact, the Prime Minister's party is almost here." Rother tensed.

"Do the rest of the camp know?"

"They're already making preparations as quickly as they can, but with such short notice…"

"It's alright. Just make sure everything keeps running smoothly." Rother indicated for the man to return to his post. Once he left, he turned to the entirely unsurprised Oracle.

"Do you know what this portends, Your Eminence?" He wasn't merely asking her opinion of the surprising development. Instead, he was seeking her professional insight as the Oracle, one blessed with the ability to decipher Fate. Vertha took a deep breath as power shimmered around her. Her attendants stepped back reverently, bowing their heads in subservient awe. Even Rother felt the tug of the Oracle's divine manasoul come alive.

The air swirled inside the tent as a soft golden glow came alive, dotting the free space around them with tiny auroral glints." I see visions of powers colliding yet again." The Oracle's voice had taken on her etheric quality, rippling through everything like every soul in the vicinity was amplifying her every syllable." I hear the cries of an unforetold birth. I see the edge-shine of fatality aimed for the heart of a people. I feel the tremor of a soul that shines far, far —" She stuttered.

Her mana flickered in and out of existence. The sudden panic that tried to claim Rother's temperament quickly dissipated as he realized what was going on.

"Calm yourselves," he said, his own words changing just the slightest fraction in tone and register at the pressure of magic arriving into the area.

"This is merely the arrival of the Prime Minister."" Merely?" the oldest priest choked out. Rother didn't answer. He figured they ought to be aware of this sort of thing already, with how they were present in the Oracle's vicinity all the time. Surely, they knew what it was like to be in the presence of a mage powerful enough to naturally bend entire areas to their whims with just their being. This was especially true for the case of an Empyrean-ranked mage visiting Arcoryx City. The Oracle dimmed her mana herself.

She was no longer prophesying anything. Rother actually wanted to ask how she would have ended her little spiel earlier, but he didn't voice it. The magical pressure of the Prime Minister was growing stronger every moment, and Vertha wouldn't want to contest it by forcefully channelling her divinity now. That said, he couldn't get her words out of his head. An unforetold birth, a collision of powers, a fatal stab, and a soul far beyond anything else… Rother swallowed.

Some of it formed a solid picture in his head, but that only made the less clear bits even more dreadful. What kind of birth had Vertha seen? What in the world was this collision of powers supposed to indicate? Moments later, more footsteps arrived, these ones heavier than that of the guard who had met them earlier. Rother stood up just as a Sentinel entered the tent. The white-haired man in resplendent armour nodded at Rother before bowing at the Oracle.

"Greetings, High Warden. And to you, Your Eminence. I had heard your condition isn't the best, but I hope you don't mind the intrusion." Despite the protests of the rest of her attending clergy, she slowly rose to her feet.

"What is the point of minding when the Prime Minister insists on appearing this way anyway?" The Sentinel had the grace to wince.

"Apologies, Your Eminence."

"Greetings in turn, Sentinel Abram," Rother said. They didn't have time for any further conversation. Moments later, the Sentinel's appearance was justified as Prime Minister Klyne Faldor made his entrance. High Warden Rother and Sentinel Abram both went down to one knee as a middle-aged man wearing the royal colours of Androvia—the crimson and aubergine that were the primary colours of its flag—entered the tent. He held up a hand as he got inside.

That stopped the train of attendants in his wake from filling up what little space remained within. The most powerful man of Androvia ignored both the High Warden and the Sentinel entirely. Rother was thankful for it. Just his presence alone was trying to mess with his manasoul. What would his direct regard do then?

"Your Eminence," the Prime Minister said in a youthful voice that belied his years.

"I think Abram has already apologized so I'm not going to bother." Oracle Vertha performed a short curtsy. Her priests and priestesses tried and failed to not show their umbrage at their highest official presenting herself subserviently, even if it was just a temporary platitude.

"Indeed, Your Honour. But I suspect you are going to bother with why you're here of all places, and why now. And where exactly is the other one?" The Prime Minister tutted.

"Don't worry about him. He's where he needs to be. But you already know why I'm here. You're the Calamity-cursed Oracle, after all." Both the Prime Minister and the Oracle ignored the shocked gasps of the clergy at Klyne Faldor uttering a curse.

"Why," the Oracle said with an almost coy smile.

"You're here to check my condition." The Prime Minister rolled his grey eyes.

"All of everything else here is… well, they aren't meaningless, but they certainly fall to the wayside when considered next to your state. So yes, I'm here because of you. Specifically, because of who in all the blasted Realms did that to you."