Chương 38: Chapter 37

Cal checked his messages, looking to see if he'd missed something. There was nothing, and yet, despite coming early, he somehow managed to be the last arrival. He paced towards the end of the tunnel, opening out to his class's usual training center. His classmates stood with a certain tenseness in the air, and he soon realized why. At the center of the field was Ferguson wielding a war hammer. He held the two-handed monstrosity at his side by its bone-white handle.

The metallic head of the hammer glinted in the light and seemed to tremble.

"Is it just me, or does he look ready to use that thing?" Cal idly commented, as if he'd not benefit immensely from the man deciding to brutalize the Justiciar named Janice, who stood opposite him.

"I'm not quite sure to what you are referring to," Rolland quipped, eyes glued to the soundless exchange occurring in the field.

"We're still preparing in the locker room. Who can really say what events are unfolding elsewhere."

"His Highness is correct." Benjamin crossed his arms and closed his eyes, leaning against one of the tunnel walls.

"I had some difficulty with my uniform; it took some time to get ready." Were they…

"Interesting," Marcus mused, pulling his phone out of his pocket and pointing it forward.

"I wonder what I see?"

"Must you be so boorish?" Rolland responded with little humor, eyeing the man carefully before turning to Cal.

"Where do you stand?" Cal mulled his response for a moment. Whatever was being said out there was getting heated; he augmented his hearing, but no sounds came. They must have placed something to block that. Lip-reading was what he was left with, not exactly a skill he practiced often. However, he was pretty sure neither of them had said his name.

"Confused, does anyone want to explain what's going on?" Rolland's lips pressed against each other, forming a thin smile. Marcus was the one to speak next.

"I surmise the Justiciar is attempting to enlist Ferguson's aid with her task. As for what that task is, you wouldn't happen to know, would you?"

"I don't. But they did pull Alice and me aside yesterday. They were questioning our relationship with Petro. Not sure what that's about."

"Petro? Have you decided on how to resolve that dispute of yours?" Benjamin opened his eyes, his tone conveying some eagerness.

"I'd be happy to supply suggestions." Way ahead of you, buddy.

"I'm just ignoring him; he's annoying, but it's not a big deal." Cal shrugged, displaying indifference.

"Hmmm. Yes, they paid me a visit as well." Marcus replied, a contemplative look in his eye.

"They were rather impertinent. Daring to question me. Although I suppose being abrasive is a hallmark of their occupation." Their general attitudes towards the Justiciars were a surprise, but perhaps it shouldn't be. They wouldn't like people who could enforce rules against them.

"That being said, I won't be able to ignore an assault on the executors of the Emperor's judgment." Marcus's thumb hovered over a button that Cal presumed would begin a recording.

"Quite the conundrum we've found ourselves in."

"I would tread lightly." Benjamin's hands fell to his blades.

"You speak against your future ruler." The second and third 'strongest' of the Academy stared each other down, a silent battle of wills playing out. Neither seemed content to back down. Cal gave a singular loud clap, breaking the contest.

"Right, as fun as this pissing contest is. That doesn't explain why he looks like he's about to murder that girl." Was everyone in the Empire so murder happy, or did he just attract strange company? He didn't know which he would prefer.

"Oh, you wouldn't know, would you?" Rolland nodded to himself.

"Allow me to shed some light on the matter. Have you ever wondered why a man of his caliber has been reduced to such a state?" His knowledge of the Fingers wasn't great. With the way the members of the Constellation painted them, he never felt the need to dig into their individual histories. They weren't like the two Hands of the Emperor who posed legitimate threats; he made sure to learn about their capabilities.

"Before I came here, I was more focused on day-to-day survival than any of the goings on in the Empire. You're saying he wasn't always like this?"

"He was not. Ferguson was an accomplished fighter. It is no small feat for one born in the Holy Enclave to ascend to the status of a Finger." It was the same thing Lily had mentioned previously. For supposedly being one nation, there seemed to be notable division.

"A fact that many in the Empire took umbrage to," Benjamin tacked on.

"His wife passed under... suspicious circumstances. The Justiciars ruled it as foreign intervention, blaming the snakes for it. Ferguson did not agree with their assessment. His refusal was…vocal." Rolland finished his explanation with some strain on his face.

"If you call assaulting their head office vocal," Marcus scoffed.

"He burned all the political capital he earned with that stunt. Should he slip again? Who knows what would happen?" That was disturbingly familiar. If he didn't know any better, he might question if they were related.

"Which is why I advise that you put down your device." Rolland stepped forward, his voice turning hard. Benjamin reacted, and the two stood on opposite sides of the dukedom's heir.

"Shall we be reasonable about this? Don't forget, such an accusation on your part will attract the ire of a Hand." Marcus gripped his trident, and a flash of unease came over him, disappearing into a mask of confidence. His eyes turned to Cal, raising a brow. Shit. Did he have to pick a side here? In the short term, it would be better if Ferguson blew up on the Justiciar and took the attention off of him. If he thought with a longer timeline, maybe Marcus was the better play?

Then there was something about a Hand getting involved? He really didn't want one of them coming around.

"Why don't we all cool it?" Cal was indecisive and attempted to defuse the situation outright.

"There's nothing saying that he's going to lose his top over this. Chances are nothing will-" A boom sounded, and their heads whipped to the source. The Justiciar was flung into the stands, concrete and steel showering from the impact. That was…Cal didn't know how to feel about it. The Justiciar emerged from the debris cloud, stumbling out. Ferguson stepped forward. The field shook, the stadium shook, and the Justiciar fell to her knees.

"Out of my sight, brat," he lifted the hammer, bringing it down. A thunderous roar sounded, and the ground fractured. Cal moved, and the others followed soon after they noticed the tunnel collapsing. It wasn't the only casualty. The entire stadium looked to have been tossed up, shattering like a set of legos once it hit the earth. So that's why they call him 'The Tremor'. Cal had certainly felt the reverberation of the attack. He wasn't too impressed by it; Millie had thrown similar attacks at him before.

"The Shirai delegation will be visiting soon," Rolland spoke, dusting himself off.

"I can see it arranged that they travel through House Procellae's lands." Marcus' eyes were slightly wide. He fidgeted for a moment, confirming his safety before responding.

"Acceptable." That was a bribe, right? Shirai was known for their lavish spending, so it must have represented a pretty penny for the dukedom. This left Cal the odd man out. He could feel the attention on him, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Coffee." The stares grew harder, and he doubled down."I want the best coffee you can get your hands on." Wait, shouldn't he have asked for him to get Petro to back off? Why in the hells was coffee the first thing he thought of? Right, he thought of Millie and, by extension, Pand- Gerald. He still needed a gift after all. Was it too late to change the ask?

"I should have expected that." None of them seemed too surprised by his request. He felt he should be insulted by that.

"I'll see it done." Eh, whatever. It better be some really expensive stuff then. Cal observed the wreckage of the training grounds more closely; the wards were destroyed. Did they manage to contain the attack, or did it leak through? It would determine whether or not they had to make themselves scarce right now. The prince was at ease while the other two were on alert. The Justiciar struggled to her feet; her mask was cracked, and hateful eyes glared at the man responsible for her state.

Ferguson remained rooted, not taking advantage of the opening to finish her. Her attention shifted to them, lingering on each one of them. Her exposed face grew increasingly grim with each second. Wow, this looked pretty bad, didn't it? They were kinda ganging up on her, granted she'd started it. It still made him feel like a bully. He forced himself to not sympathize with the woman trying to bust him. Even though she was kinda just doing her job…

Ferguson hadn't made any moves, and he did tell her to scram, which meant she was free to go. Why she hadn't moved he wasn't sure of. Was she considering pressing the issue? On paper, she might have had the authority, but that meant nothing when she didn't have the personal strength to back it up here and now. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. The war hammer was raised again, and Cal prepared to defend himself when it lowered again.

Miss Justiciar fell forward, coughing into the dirt. Ah, she'd been putting up a front.

"One of you brats, get her out of here." The man brought out his flask, thought for a moment, and then put it back without taking a drink.

"Class is canceled." He leaped away, kicking up another cloud. Did he seriously just leave them with this?

"Will you look at the time?" Rolland did not make an effort to check any sort of timekeeper.

"Benny and I have a prior obligation." They were in the middle of class time.

"We'll leave it to you two." The shamelessness of it all left him stunned long enough to not intervene when they lept away as well. He turned, ready to foist this responsibility on Marcus when he found the man missing. This was all kinds of bullshit. Cal considered following in their wake, but this did present a unique opportunity. He strolled over, crouching next to the woman, who remained on her hands and knees. His hand reached out.

"Do not lay a hand on me," the woman ground out, her fingers curling into the dirt. Sheesh, he was just going to check if she was alright. He plopped onto the dirt beside her, sitting with his legs crossed.

"I think you upset him." He spoke of the obvious. With class canceled, it wouldn't be a problem now, but he wondered where they'd be moved. They couldn't be expected to keep meeting here, not unless some major renovations were done.

"How..." The woman paused to grunt, attempting to rise. Her arms gave in, and her face impacted the dirt.

"Perceptive of you." The words came out muffled. Cal examined her closer; her uniform obscured some details, but she was in one piece. She must have suffered internal injuries.

"Should I call someone?" It would be awkward if she ended up dying after everyone else left. She didn't make a noise, and he reached out again.

"Don't," she hissed, turning her head to be better heard.

"I do not require assistance." It really looked like she did. To highlight that, she hacked, and blood was spurted onto the ground.

"I can call your partner?" The glare he received answered that question.

"Or I can not." He stretched his hands before lying down on his back, looking to the sky. The weather was nice today. Then again, it always was. Was it the time of year, or was there something unnatural about it? A groan sounded beside him. Stubborn one that. It was weird that she didn't want her partner notified. Were they on bad terms? If so, driving a wedge between them could be useful. It might have also just been a pride thing as well.

It must be shocking to think you're hot shit and get humbled on day two of your investigation. He huffed in amusement. Biting off more than you can chew was a hallmark of his. The shifting he heard indicated she'd not passed out.

"Are, you willing, to testify on this... altercation?" The words came out between rough breaths.

"Sorry, didn't see anything." Cal's quick response was answered with another bit of hacking. Slowly, it subsided, and her breathing turned steady. He remained cloud-watching until she spoke again.

"So I heard." From the corner of his eye, he could see her push to her back, staring at the same sky he was now.

"Has it occurred to you that my authority trumps that of that prince of yours?" Did it?

"I have no idea how any of this works." Honesty seemed the most compelling path to take in this instance. He was a recently raised commoner; how was he meant to know the intricacies of noble jurisdiction? The 'your' prince was intriguing though. Was Rolland's position not as secure as he made it seem? Could that be his motive for trying to recruit Cal?

"That's been made abundantly clear. For reference, coffee is not a common bargaining chip among nobles." She delivered with a painful-sounding voice; the cause did not seem physical. Cal focused on the surroundings; nothing could be sensed moving in on them. The amount of time that had passed without anyone coming to take a look pointed at no one noticing what had gone down. Wards must have done their job; however, he still thought that the noise couldn't be completely contained.

Maybe the isolation of these grounds was enough to have it pass under everyone's noses. Or this wasn't the first time Ferguson decided to casually destroy a structure.

"I've never seen him that pissed off." He'd seen him irritated, annoyed, tired, and drunk, but never the rage that he displayed today. Cal was no battle maniac, but he couldn't help but want to test the man just a little bit. If only to see how he stacked up against the other monsters he knew.

"It was unwarranted. I did not expect his mental state to have deteriorated to this extent. It brings me cause to question his position as a member of the faculty."

"He tries, I think. Most of the teachers kinda suck," Cal admitted. Between the drones that led his standard classes and Wyatt, the only teacher worth their salt was his one in Economics. He actually had his first test for that later this week; he should probably study for it.

"The quality of instructors correlates to the quality of students." Rude. But that was the impression he was hoping to make on her, so that was a job well done. She appeared to have recovered enough, and she sat up, maintaining a hand on the side of her face where the mask had broken.

"I have duties to see to. I trust you won't spread baseless rumors." The Justiciar laboriously got up. Her feet were still unsteady, and a stiff breeze seemed capable of knocking her down.

"On further thought, let me be clear. Do not speak of what you've seen today." Huh? Didn't she ask if he'd testify? Cal reflected on their conversation and the various reactions she'd given to things. Cal watched as she staggered away. Her interaction with the older Justiciar hinted at a power dynamic between the pair. Someone didn't want to be caught with their hand in the cookie jar and be scolded. Relatable.

"Ever think about changing jobs?" The power trip must be nice, but poking your nose in powerful people's business seemed hazardous. She must have known how close death had been today. The Justiciar did not pause her exit. However, her voice carried over with a level of conviction he found difficult to grasp.

"No, this is my path." He wasn't sure he could say the same. Cal was in the middle of a crisis. The instrument of his demise lay in front of him, taunting him with its mere presence. It had been waiting for him on his arrival to magical engineering. He looked up from the stack of papers to the taciturn girl who'd deposited them without a word.

"Please tell me this is some sick form of humor on your part." She sat at her usual spot near Wyatt's desk and opened up her book, not acknowledging his complaint.

"No one said there'd be a test today." He realized his tone came off more petulant than intended and corrected himself.

"I mean, aren't I supposed to get a heads up about this?"

"Syllabus." Oh. Ancestors, Alice was going to kill him. On the bright side, she'd probably wait for the Justiciars to leave before doing that. However, it wasn't like he'd been wasting his class time. He'd kept up with the reading; maybe this wouldn't be so bad. He flipped the cover page and read the first question.

"I want a deferment." The entire page was gibberish. He wasn't going through the motions when studying the material, and yet he only vaguely understood what some of them were asking.

"Denied." Mia conveyed promptly, not bothering to seriously consider the request. He leaned forward, cupping his hands together and appealing to her compassionate side.

"Throw me a bone, Mia. I haven't been able to focus with all the stuff going on. Can't we pretend it's scheduled for later in the week?" He pointed at the sleeping teacher.

"It's not like he's going to notice." And if he did, Cal doubted the man would care.

"Unacceptable." Cal steeled his resolve, slapping his hands on the desk. The action did not elicit a response, but he pushed on anyway.

"Pretty please?" He said with the seriousness the occasion called for.

"No." Ouch, not even a blink. What a hardass. Cal slumped against the desk, loudly exhaling. At least when looking at the big picture, none of this mattered. He picked up his head and leafed through the rest of it. Yeah, he was boned. If Anne's sister was right, and he had a feeling she was, this would be harshly graded. He was going to have to endure a round of 'I told you so's. What's worse is that he couldn't deny them; he'd been given multiple warnings about this class.

The possibility of lodging a complaint crossed his mind, but it didn't seem worth it. Better to take this on the chin. It was disheartening; all the effort he'd spent seemed wasted now. He'd even gone through the trouble of trying to parse Millie's defaced textbooks. There was nothing for it. Picking up his pen, he started going through it line by line. It wasn't like anyone ever regretted giving something their best shot.