Breakfast feels like a return to normal. Which is absurd, of course, that a new normal could be achieved in only a few months. But at the very least, I’ve chosen to trust Allan for now, and so we can be pleasant to each other. I’m still upset about what he said about the cause, but so long as he chooses to help me, I can trust him. Or rather, I choose to trust him.

  He has the silencer out at the table, all the servants have left the room after placing the meal, and we talk about all the little things I did after I left him but neglected to mention last night.

  “You bought a house?” He says, holding back laughter.

  “Yeah,” I shrug, uncertain as to the cause of his mirth. “I needed someplace to keep some of my new clients that I’m training in basic magic and well… I was still mad at you and thought it was better to have my own place besides the dorm… by the way, I’m paying Marcus directly now.”

  He continues to smile with barely contained mirth. “You know, when my lovers said to expect acts of rebellion, they didn’t mention real estate and servant poaching.”

  “…I thought it was for the best at the time, and see no reason to cancel the arrangement.”

  He waves me off. “No, of course, you need your own people, and I see no reason not to have your own place too. Any other insurrections I should know about?”

  I pause, my shoulders tense, which causes him to tense too, and I nod, speaking flatly. “I killed someone for Greg… I didn’t sacrifice them. Also, Viscount Monroe has invited me to attend a card game in a couple of months and has agreed to teach me how to better conceal my enhancement if I do.”

  “Ah,” he says, his mirth instantly drained. “…Thank you for telling, I suppose… I won’t say what I think about doing things for Greg because you already know my thoughts. Just be careful. I’m still baffled by the trust you put in him.”

  “Yeah… I’ll be careful. And I’ll tell you his suggestions.”

  He shakes his head, but with a pleased smile. “As much as I’d like that, you probably shouldn’t tell me everything. You are his patron, and there is some expectation of keeping some things between you private. Not everything, just some. Besides, you’ll have to learn how to handle him yourself… but do tell me if there’s anything major.”

  I nod. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try to find the balance between propriety and prudence.”

  “Right… but um, Monroe, eh? I suppose you must have done rather well, or rather poorly, to get invited by her twice.”

  Is that a hint of pride in his voice? Pride and worry, yes. “Yeah… you could say that. I um… well, let’s just say that in addition to coin, I got a client from the game too… also three people who rather don’t like me at the moment. I haven’t accepted the deal yet. Should I?”

  He inhales, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never bothered figuring out how to hide my own enhancements, and that seems like something you’ll need.”

  “She mentioned that. Something about showing off.”

  “Eh,” he shrugs with a half grin to indicate admittance. “Anyways, Monroe is probably one of the best teachers you could hope for that particular skill. But she is, of course, dangerous… That, and I don’t like you gambling. I fear that it will feed the things in you that lead you to seek out sacrifices. But then again, maybe I’m just projecting how I react to it. Maybe your thoughts won’t go to the same places. The same moods… If you want to do this, I won’t object. Just be mindful of the effect it’ll have on you.”

  So, he’s giving the decision back to me. Annoying. I wanted him to tell me what was best. Though I suppose I wouldn’t even have thought of it being something he should decide had he not been so opposed in the past.

  “I think I’ll do it,” I say a little seriously. “I need to learn what she’s offering, and I could use the coin too.”

  “I can just give you coin if you need it,” Allan says.

  I shake my head. “You know full well that I would find a use for every last piece of copper you have. No, best to treat you as a reserve and try to fund myself as best I can unless I really need it.”

  “…Yeah, I suppose that’s wise. Just don’t rely entirely on cards for coin, okay?”

  I nod. “I’m getting some coin from most of my clients, and I learned an upgrade to my plant grower spell. All in all, I should be making a small profit each week.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “What are you spending it on that the profit is only small?”

  “Hm…Oh, right, I never mentioned that I took on a client besides the tower, per Greg’s suggestion. An alchemist/enchanter whose research I’m funding. He’s ridiculously expensive, and probably won’t be worth it, but there might be situations where he’s useful.”

  “…Interesting. I wonder why Greg picked someone like that for you. Just don’t get too carried away, okay.”

  I smile reassuringly. “Yeah, don’t worry… about that at least… I should go. I’m running out of time for class.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Right, have a good week… If you’d like, we can meet up sooner.”

  “Um…Yeah, we can meet for lunch on Nalday.”

  “Great, I’ll see you then.”

  I spend the carriage ride to campus thinking over the discussions of the morning and last night. I feel hopeful that we can still work together, even if he’s not working for the mission. Maybe I’m being foolish. I admit to feeling strange yet pleasant when he said he cared about me and was acting for my sake. Prideful, maybe, that I would be an end worthy of such action. Perhaps I’m letting that pride cloud my judgment. That I want to be a person worthy of such care, and so pretend that I am.

  Still, I don’t think I’m wrong in my trust, and I can only act based on what my impressions are, not what I fear they should be.

  The carriage drops me off near the building, and I arrive a mere five minutes early to applied divination. The rest have already arrived, and I make my way to sit by Ser Terry, but Princep Theodore calls out.

  “Malichi! Come, sit by us. Let’s compare answers. You, move.” He gestures to one of the sycophants next to him, who gives me an irritated look before complying with a plastered smile in the Princep’s direction.

  I spare only a fraction of a second to glance at Ser Terry, wanting to sit by him as usual, especially so I can ask about his trip (he did tell me he was going someplace, right? I didn’t know only via spying?), but I instantly plaster a natural looking smile of my own (Allan has been helping me with that) and place myself in the quickly emptied spot.

  “So, what did you get on the last one?” he asks cheerfully, offering his own nexus disk, which I tap to exchange the desired work. We spend a half minute silently going over each other’s answers before his face lights up in a smile. “Yes! That’s how I did it too. I thought you’d do it this way. I thought about doing it the other way, but then thought about what you said about stability always being a criterion, and I went with your way!”

  “Um, yes, I’m glad to have influence your highness in a way you deem positive,” I say, and instantly regret it. I try to make my response a natural sounding positive expression, but it just comes out as forced and obviously diplomatic. How do the sycophants do it? They don’t seem to have to think about it at all; they just seamlessly flatter in a bubbly chorus. It’s rather impressive.

  “Hm, yes, I’m sure,” he says, obviously noting the lack of smoothness in my reply. “Oh! You’re still on for midweek, right?”

  “Of course, your highness. I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Great,” he smiles, bouncing back to eagerness. “It’s a pity that most of my friends lack any real divining sense. Denton’s the only one at our level, maybe even a bit better, but he has a much more solid and methodical approach. It makes him reliable, but he doesn’t challenge my assumptions like you did.”

  I chuckle nervously. “I only pointed out one procedural difference. I don’t think you can assume a trend just from that.”

  “Ha! Clever.” I scrunch my face in confusion as to what he’s saying is clever, but he goes on without noticing. “Still, I get a feeling that your methods in general are more exciting. I did glance at a few of your other problems, and you do have a tendency to take bold approaches when there’s a choice.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I don’t particularly think so, your highness. I just choose the methods that achieve the greatest benefit.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean!” he laughs, taking out his nexus disk and skimming through my answers. “See, this one … this one… not that… ha, I didn’t think of that one… Yeah, about half of these it seems like you added your own criteria for success. Very all-or-nothing criteria, too. I said Denton’s technique is more reliable. What I mean is that he will almost always get the information that he wants with his methods. While you seem to be willing to let the whole divination fail if it doesn’t achieve various ancillary goals too.”

  I stare blankly, blinking in surprise. “…Because they’re not ancillary, but vital to the function. If they aren’t achieved, then the divination is a failure regardless of if I find out what I need to.” Because if I don’t have those so called ancillary functions – stability, efficiency, subtlety – then the information becomes worthless because it makes you vulnerable to counter-divinations…

  I freeze in realization. I’m thinking like a rebel. Like someone who won’t be acting as part of the largest empire in the world. Like someone who is constantly worried about their divination being used to track them down. The empire doesn’t need to worry about overdoing it, having their divination reversed and traced back to them. They’re always divining in the middle of an army. The enemy already knows where they are; it’s a bit hard to hide when you’re invading someone.

  Ha! It’d be hilarious if something as esoteric as my divining style gave me away. I really do need to stop assuming that skills learned in Caethlon will apply flawlessly here. Of course, my ancillary criteria will be helpful sometimes to them, but it’s not the default goal that I assumed it was.

  “Oh, is there something amusing?” He asks with eager smile.

  I smile back, trying to match his flow. “Yes, I was just realizing that you might be right. I hadn’t even considered that my approach might be fundamentally different from others. Perhaps I can learn something from the more reliable styles.”

  “Well, don’t let Denton’s ruin yours! Your methods are far too entertaining!” He protests far too much over what is ultimately a matter of my magic progression.

  Fortunately, the teacher flies in and begins class before annoyance can overwhelm my expression.

  Class is a standard escalation from the principles discussed two weeks ago. I know most of it already, but there are a few new details. Afterwards, the Count calls me over and erects a silence barrier as she looks over my answers.

  “Perfection again, as expected,” she says, then bites her lip and looks out the window. “Still… it’s too soon… I can’t be sure…”

  “Has something happened, Count?” I ask, alarmed by her suddenly indecisive behaviour.

  Ignoring my question, she asks one herself. “How has your spell casting come along? Have you learned any more spells since the exam?”

  My mind races through everything I’ve learned. What can I say that’s safe? “Um, I learned a basic illusion spell, and upgrades to plant grower and healing,” I say, thinking that to be a reasonable level of progress.

  She shakes her head, clearly disappointed. “No combat spells?”

  “Um,” I can’t say lightning bolt because I used that with Vincent. Should I mention the firestream upgrade? The judges weren’t impressed with the base version, and I only learned it because I was out of other spells to advance, and revealing too many might seem like I’m spreading myself too thin on easy stuff. “Oh! I learned an upgrade to my missile guidance,” I say, deciding to be vague as to which one I learned. Hopefully, it being an upgrade might explain why I took so long to come up with it.

  She shakes her head again, still disappointed. “Sorry, I know I said I might involve you, and you’ve been doing well in the research group, but it’s just too soon, and that’s not enough to guarantee your safety.”

  “Involve me in what?” I say, baffled.

  She hesitates, but looks me in the eye with a resolved nod. “You promise not to spread this information?”

  “Um, yeah, of course.”

  “Okay,” she says, leaning over in a whisper made redundant by the silence spell, “It looks like the Anar cultist came to the capital. A body with blood runes was discovered over the weekend.”