Something is wrong.
Aegus could feel it in the air. There was an off-putting sour scent, and the air felt electric.
It wasn’t only his own senses alerting him. Azar seemed to feel it too, judging by his movements.
The flames inside Aegus’s mechanical arm shifted restlessly, licking along the inner runes and coiling beneath the metal plates. They did not burn him, but they felt irregular and unsteady like a heartbeat with a murmur.
Of course, there were plenty of things wrong.
They were in the middle of a bloody battlefield. The blasts outside could still be heard through the tent’s walls, muffled by layers of canvas and defensive spellwork but not erased. Every so often, the ground beneath Aegus’s boots trembled, and the hanging lightstones swayed gently overhead.
Then there was the escape of two lower-floor, ultra-high-risk Glimver Dungeon criminals.
To whose escape Aegus and Luca had inadvertently contributed.
That was a most unfortunate detail, requiring Aegus to summon the family lawyer to help him get out of this mess unscathed.
As of that moment, Aegus was sitting inside the command tent, while his very expensive lawyer chatted with the interrogation officer as if the two of them were meeting over a pair of beers in the city rather than a military inquiry following a prisoner escape.
Separating Aegus, his lawyer, and his therapist from the interrogation officer was a long table, covered with papers and four mugs of mediocre black tea.
Beside him, Aegus’s lawyer gave a warm chuckle.
The man’s name was Barnaby Voss, and he had arrived at the front lines in an immaculate dark coat despite the state of the camp, and an expression that stated in no uncertain terms that he was only out here, in this wretched place, because he was being paid to be here.
And Aegus’s father had indeed paid him a fortune.
At the moment, however, Barnaby Voss was smiling with the practiced ease of someone who was accustomed to buttering up others and getting his way through the sleight of hand of carefully chosen words.
The interrogation officer smiled back. Owen Davenport.
Owen and Barnaby happened to be part of the same fiks club, a popular and snobbish hobby where players swung wide clubs at tiny colorful balls in the hope they might fly through the air and land inside a tiny hoop. The game was slow, expensive, and involved a great deal of walking around private, perfectly groomed lawns while pretending it was as serious a sport as any other.
In other words, fiks was popular among the elite. And the connection was no coincidence.
“And how have the kids been?” Barnaby asked.
“Kids?” Owen smirked. “They’re practically adults now.”
“Ah, how time flies.” Barnaby nodded with a wistful expression. “I remember when they were little tots running about the clubhouse garden, knocking over flag markers and blaming the wind.”
The interrogation officer laughed.
Aegus picked up his mug and took a sip of the black tea.
Outside, someone screamed for a healer. Inside, his lawyer was discussing children and club gardens. It was quite the contrast and felt wrong, leaving a strange distaste.
Aegus glanced toward the entrance flap behind him.
Luca had arrived at the tent after him, but was likely seated in another “room” within the giant maze of interconnected tents.
That, too, felt wrong.
Aegus sensed that even with Augustus by his side, Luca wouldn’t go unscathed. Obviously not, given the size of the mess they were in.
Why do I care?
Aegus frowned.
They were roommates, but their relationship was not one of friendship or anything remotely sentimental.
However, Luca Frey had proven himself uniquely useful and talented, but at this moment he was, unfortunately, the most likely person to be blamed for everything.
It is all too convenient.
“...that’s when my client heard Evelia call out, ‘Thanks, Luca!’ and heard Peter say—”
“No.” Aegus cut off his lawyer.
The conversation had, at some point, shifted away from pleasantries and small talk and moved into the heart of the matter.
“Come again?” Barnaby asked with a tight smile.
The expression said, quite clearly, What are you doing interrupting me while I am getting you absolved of all this?
However, Aegus had little concern for Barnaby’s irritation. He was certain the man would find another loophole if need be.
Right now, his concern was that Luca Frey was being set up and that he, Aegus Matrinovo, was being used to do so. And that second part was completely unacceptable.
“I did not hear them say that,” Aegus lied with a straight face, tugging at the string of his lawyer’s core argument. The very argument that would have absolved Aegus of all, if not nearly all, responsibility regarding the criminals’ escape.
Aegus did not have Dmitry Oliynyk's absurd memory. But he knew what he had seen and heard.
However, he didn’t trust it.
It is all too convenient.
Luca Frey had been the one to express concern regarding the two enlisted Glimver Dungeon criminals and their little outing. And he had also adamantly refused to delete their Black Mana Cuffs, despite their pleading.
So why would he have released them?
There was no benefit to him.
Luca had looked far too surprised at the disappearance of the pair for Aegus to believe that he had ordered Void to delete their restraints.
Moreover, the shouted thank-yous from Evelia and Peter had come at a conveniently odd moment. Luca had just fallen off the ledge, nowhere in sight, before Void surged after him in a panic and brought him back to safety. He likely had not heard either of them. And even if Void could act on his own, he had been too busy saving Luca’s life.
Aegus had been frightened by the whole ordeal, and having to engage in life-or-death combat was much more intense than he had expected. He had fought off intruders before. He had protected his grandmother before. He had even lost an arm.
But somehow, none of that had prepared him for the reality of a battlefield.
The screaming, the dizzying heat. The enemy mages coming at him with the intent to kill. Azar’s flames bursting out before Aegus could command them. The knowledge that one wrong move or a moment of hesitation could end with his life extinguished. It was far more intense than he had ever expected. And not an ounce as glorious as songs and tales had led him to believe.
However, despite his fear, he was not blind.
“Hmm,” Barnaby said, his pleasant smile tightening. “I think we’re all due for a fresh pot. What do you say, Owen? Shall we take a short break and reconvene?”
His lawyer was clearly grasping for an opportunity to interrogate Aegus himself and figure out a new strategy, now that the previous obvious path had been shattered.
Owen stretched out his arms and leaned back in his chair.
“Very well,” he said. “Goodness knows how long I’ve sat here. And how many more interviews I have to conduct…”
His gaze moved between Aegus and Barnaby.
“I’ll go ahead with my next one,” Owen said, pushing himself up from his seat. “That should give you a good hour or two to determine what, precisely, you would like placed on the record.”
Barnaby’s smile returned at once.
“I appreciate it, old pal.”
“Of course,” Owen replied, as he gathered the documents from the table and tucked the small recording stone into his pocket.
He stepped toward the inner flap behind him that led deeper into the command tent, not toward the exit. Just as the flap hid him from view, Aegus heard Owen speak to the guard posted there.
“Take me to Luca Frey.”
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
“I require the presence of my legal representative,” I repeated the phrase for what felt like the hundredth time.
I was quite proud of myself for being able to hold my tongue. There had been several instances in which I had nearly elaborated or corrected the interrogation officer sitting across from me. Still, ultimately, I had managed to keep my mouth shut, apart from repeating the same line.
The interrogation officer clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Behind him, the flap lifted, and another officer entered the room. He was clearly of a higher rank.
“What is the situation here?” the man asked.
He appeared to be in his mid-fifties, but had kept himself in decent enough shape. He was no match for The Ogre, but he looked strong enough to lift himself up with his arms and could look down and see his feet instead of his own girth.
“He’s refusing to speak without a lawyer,” my interrogation officer, whose name was either Trevor or Trevis, turned and explained.
He had introduced himself hastily once at the start, and I had no real reason to ask him to repeat it or remember it.
“Is that so?” The older officer looked from him to me. “Trevis, go ahead and take a breather. I’ll take it from here.”
The man smiled and patted the officer sitting across from me on the shoulder.
Trevis glanced my way one last time, sighed, and stood up. “Thank you, Officer Owen.”
I made a mental note, memorizing my new interrogator’s name.
When Trevis disappeared behind the flap, Owen took the seat across from me. He did not rush to speak at once. Instead, he settled in, adjusted the folder in front of him, and glanced briefly at the faintly glowing recording stone on the table.
“Luca Frey, I just spoke with Aegus,” he said. “I understand you are roommates back at the academy?”
I remained silent, not taking the bait.
“He provided an enlightening summary of what occurred at Wayfae Ridge. I hope you can fill in a few details.” Owen’s gaze rested on me, calm and patient. “As it currently stands, you are not in the best of positions.”
“Aegus has a lawyer. I do not,” I allowed myself a few extra words before repeating the same line. “I require the presence of my legal representative to provide my side of events.”
Owen made a show of looking around the tent.
“Unfortunately, you do not have a representative present.” He turned his gaze back to me. “And the stakes are high enough that if you do not cooperate, I will have to assume the worst.”
He leaned across the table, his hands folding atop the scattered papers.
“This is the front line, Luca Frey. We do not need to prove you guilty beyond all doubt before taking action. Not when so many lives are at stake.”
I stared into his dark blue eyes, made all the more blue in contrast to his ginger hair and beard.
I opened my mouth, wanting to come back with, Well, if it were so dire, you would have resorted to a far more intense interrogation method rather than merely using words.
However, I suspected that would quickly make things worse.
So instead, I repeated the same line.
“I require the presence of my legal representative.”
“Good lad, and right you are.” A woman’s voice sounded behind me. It had the tone of someone speaking with their nose held high.
Owen’s blue eyes widened.
“Professor Sibylla—!”
I turned to see who had just walked in.
“I’m no professor anymore, but I appreciate the sentiment, dear.” The woman smiled.
She was old. Very old. At least four decades older than my grandmother, with short, thin white hair tucked away beneath a maroon hat and skin so pale and thin that it looked almost translucent beneath the tent’s dim light. Her frame was narrow, nearly swallowed by the heavy black coat hanging off her shoulders, and she carried herself with a presence that suggested power.
She stretched one hand toward me. The skin hung loosely over her bony fingers, and the hand trembled faintly.
“Sibylla Overwaters,” she introduced herself.
I clasped her hand and immediately shivered at its coldness.
“Luca Frey,” I introduced myself politely.
“I know,” she said, patting my hand once before releasing it.
Sibylla turned toward Owen.
“Now, Owen, I have only just arrived and met my client. I’m afraid I need at least an hour to understand the situation.”
Owen seemed to chew on the idea, his jaw shifting once.
“An hour. Nothing more. We have two high-risk—”
“Yes, yes. I’m aware of the urgency.” Sibylla smiled and waved her right hand, shooing him out as if he were an overeager student. “Everyone is always so very aware of urgency when they wish to skip procedure.”
Owen opened his mouth, but then closed it.
“Very well,” he said, giving in.
He stood, gathered the folder in front of him, and exited through the flap in the back.
The moment he was gone, Sibylla sat down in the empty chair beside me, her smile nowhere to be seen. She set a massive duffel bag on the table and began pulling out folders and papers with startling speed for someone whose hand had trembled only moments earlier.
“I’ve reviewed the documents and the interviews of the others.” She paused and smiled at my surprised expression. “I didn’t come unprepared. I’m quite up to speed, my dear. However, we did need some privacy so I could lay out the options for you.”
She slid three documents across the table.
“I can make the case in a number of ways, but the ideal result is going to be about the same. Still, it’s good to know your options.”
Her thin finger tapped the one farthest to the right.
“This is my personal recommendation,” she said.
I glanced at the paper, my eyes running down the text. After rereading the third sentence four times, given how packed with procedural terminology it was, I pulled out the Lexicon Lens.
“Two weeks??” I glanced up at my so-called lawyer.
“It won’t be Glimver Dungeon,” she explained. “It’s a rather posh place called Glendale Garden. A quarter of the nobility have done a short stint there.”
“It’s a prison,” I balked. “You haven’t even heard my side of the matter.”
Sibylla pursed her lips, her gaze dipping toward what I presumed to be a timepiece on her thin wrist.
“Very well. Out with it. Let me hear it.”
I recounted the events.
Being pushed through the portal against my will. The ridge. Evelia’s theatrics. Peter’s request. My refusal. The communication attempt. The enemy attack. Void pulling me back from the ledge. Evelia and Peter disappearing before Augustus arrived. And most importantly. that I had nothing to do with their disappearance.
When I finished, Sibylla nodded once, then pointed to the same document.
“There will be books, gardens, and even lessons,” she explained. “And it’s an excellent networking opportunity.”
I blinked.
"But I'm innocent. This is a set-up!" I argued.
"Oh? And do you plan to argue that the entire system is working against you by the guidance of a shadow organization that has a knack for wiping out prospering talent...?" Sibylla let her words hang in the air.
"You know?" I asked.
"Augustus already filled me in," Sibylla replied, waving her hand. "And I can tell you, anything that smells of a wild conspiracy theory won't fly. Especially if it is true. Now then..."
She slid over the other two documents and began explaining the other two options against the first.
After hearing her explanation and reading through the documents with the Lexicon Lens, I had to agree that two weeks at Glendale Garden was my best option of the three.
I sighed and leaned back in my seat, staring up at the tent’s cloth ceiling.
“Can you give me a moment?” I asked.
She raised a brow, but then shrugged and stood up. “I’ll be right outside the flap. Call out when you’ve made your decision, dear.”
For the first time since this morning, I was finally by myself. Or rather, appeared to be by myself.
“Apophis, out with it,” I said using Illusion Magic just in case. “What’s my fourth option? There clearly is one, or you wouldn’t have been so smug all this time.”
Apophis hissed in evident delight, confirming my suspicion.
~Master, of course there is a fourth option. Or rather, it’s the only option.
The strange buzz I had felt in the air for a while now sharpened, extending like shocks of electricity to my fingertips.
I rubbed my hands against my pants, trying to get rid of the sensation.
Whatever option Apophis had in mind, I had a strong suspicion I was going to hate it far more than any of the options Sibylla Overwaters had presented me with.