Snake, as it turned out, behaved like many other meats. Its main quirk was being exceptionally lean, even when compared to chicken or fish. As long as you kept that in mind and avoided overcooking, it took well to grilling, frying, smoking, or stewing. Paired with root vegetables like carrots or beets to balance out the gaminess, it could make for good eating.

  All of this was new information to him. Snakes weren't common delicacies in the Empire, but the library was extensive enough to have a number of texts detailing their preparations. They weren't cookbooks in the traditional sense, but accounts from travelers visiting the tribes.

  Although the term 'visiting' was used loosely. Cal had a strong suspicion that the dates from these books would line up with the Empire's campaigns into the tribes' homeland.

  His knowledge of said campaigns was spotty, mostly due to the Federation having an unclear picture of them, but he knew what successes they had were fleeting—soon swallowed by the desert they sought to conquer.

  It was enviable in a way. While the Federation had to scrape and claw its way out of occupations, the tribes had nature do most of the work for them.

  "That is odd literature to occupy yourself with," a polite if firm voice said. "Does it hold any greater meaning to you?"

  Cal looked up from his book. He was sitting cross-legged in the dirt, smack-dab in the middle of the ruined stadium where they once had classes.

  Marcus stood to his right, dark blue hair combed neatly to the side. His uniform was adorned with all the usual frills, and his trident was held firmly in his grip. There was a certain intensity in his eyes that Cal wasn't surprised to see.

  "Everyone needs hobbies," Cal said blithely, contemplating how he was going to gut that snake.

  Brighteye was not very bright. She turned left when he said right, down when he said up, and loved to drop into a spiral before leveling out low enough for branches to smack him. Romero swore he'd never seen her act like that, and Cal wasn't sure if it was a sort of test or the feathered reptilian had it out for him.

  "Perhaps," Marcus said, his tone laced with doubt. "And it has nothing to do with your recent foray off campus?"

  Cal leaned back, pressing his hands into the ground to prop himself up. The book remained open in his lap, and he left it there, showing there was nothing to hide. This was the timeslot for their class, and Marcus's presence wasn't entirely unexpected.

  "Do you want to try again?" Cal asked with false sincerity. "I think you skipped about five minutes of small talk and meaningless platitudes before getting to what you're really after."

  Strangely, it didn't provoke the outrage, disgruntlement, or irritation Cal was aiming for. Even the man's grip on his weapon remained consistent, neither tightening nor loosening.

  "I thought you would appreciate the lack of palaver," Marcus said, breaking out the fancy words. "Your disdain of decorum is no secret."

  Deciding to be gracious, Cal took that as a compliment, even though he was all but certain it wasn't meant as one. Thinly veiled barbs were likely the best he could hope for from Marcus. The dukedom's heir couldn't be pleased with his messages being left unacknowledged.

  "There's the flattery," Cal said, testing Marcus's limits. "I guess it's my turn now. Hmm, your stick is looking extra pointy today. Did you sharpen it yourself?"

  Cal was aware of how thick he was laying it on. However, Marcus being Alice's almost ex colored his perspective on things. Being difficult felt like an obligation—one he wasn't shy about fulfilling.

  "Maintaining one's weapon is a noble's duty," Marcus recited, brow furrowing slightly. "I notice yours is absent."

  It was also buried under what he presumed to be a mountain of rubble deep in the Waste.

  "I didn't think I'd need it," Cal replied, waving a hand across the deserted arena. "And it looks like I was right."

  After going through his phone, Cal hadn't found an official class cancellation message. Common sense said it would continue to be put on hold, but he showed up just in case. It would be embarrassing if his crippled instructor showed up to an empty field.

  "You would be better informed than I," Marcus said pointedly, allowing more of his annoyance to show. He took a moment to compose himself before continuing in a softer tone. "I admit the current rumors are unsettling. Is there any insight you can provide?"

  Wow, that almost sounded like a plea.

  "Me?" Cal asked with a comical amount of confusion. "I was on a trip with the culinary club. Benny got drunk and recited poetry on the table. It was pretty great."

  Marcus's face seemed to droop—eyes going dead for a spell.

  "Must you deflect with juvenile falsehoods?"

  Cal rubbed his chin, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the sky. There was a fluffy cloud that he allowed his gaze to linger on before remembering he had to reply.

  "I think it's in my contract."

  Marcus grew silent, taking Cal's statement with more seriousness than it deserved.

  "Then you struck an accord with the crown prince?"

  That's not what he meant, and Cal suspected Marcus was deliberately misinterpreting his words to force a coherent answer from him.

  "If I did," Cal said with an air of nonchalance, "it wouldn't be wise to go blabbing about it."

  His 'deal' was already in the wild. Most of the beast husbandry club would know about the favor, and there was no way to know how far that knowledge spread or what conclusions they drew from it. That did not mean he was going to throw Marcus a bone.

  "I was present when that farce of a proposal was put forward," Marcus said dismissively, staring down at Cal. "Or did you expect me not to connect Rolland's attempt to lure us into a suicidal jaunt into the Waste with your absence and subsequent return?"

  Well then, it wasn't very suicidal, was it?

  "Isn't it funny how many coincidences there are in this world?" Cal asked with a disarming smile.

  Marcus did not share his sense of humor, twisting the end of his trident into the dirt.

  "I would strongly caution you against trusting that man," Marcus said with dark undertones. "He's an unreliable leader who'd lead us to ruin chasing that ambition of his."

  The man made a solid argument, but it was ground Cal had already trodden.

  "Sounds like you'd like to replace him yourself?"

  Marcus bristled at the baseless accusation, nostrils flaring and sharp lines forming across his face.

  And it was baseless, but that was the point. Brazen claims often invited sharp retorts. The noble boy was usually good at keeping his cool, but everyone had buttons to press.

  "You're deliberately being antagonistic," Marcus concluded, relaxing his face and regaining his cool demeanor. "To what end?"

  At this point, it was mostly to annoy him.

  "That's not a denial," Cal needled, starting to doubt the effectiveness of this angle.

  Marcus proved that feeling wasn't unfounded, appearing unperturbed by the accusation the second time around.

  "Even entertaining such a question is treason," Marcus said flatly. "And I'm rather attached to my head."

  The joke was delivered in such a straight way that Cal had trouble deciding if it was intentional. Cal rubbed his neck, tracing upwards to his cheek that felt all too natural at this point.

  "I can relate," Cal replied, his voice low and introspective.

  Despite being shown his old face in the tower, he found its features difficult to recall. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine himself. Red hair immediately proved his failure.

  "May you at least confirm some critical details?" Marcus asked, causing Cal to peek up at him.

  It might be a good idea to see where the boy's priorities lay, and with that thought in mind, he nodded.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  Marcus stared down at him judgmentally before carefully phrasing his question.

  "Was the Adjunctor from Shirai uninjured?"

  It appeared the boy wasn't completely uninformed. However, Cal wasn't convinced he knew about Basem's presence for certain. The question was likely an attempt to ascertain that and more.

  "What's a Shirai?" Cal asked in the cadence of an ignorant kid from the countryside.

  He probably should have practiced that in the mirror, because Marcus didn't buy it for a second.

  "A place I know Alice would have informed you of by now."

  The familiarity with how he said her name did him no favors in Cal's book.

  "I understand relations between our houses have been distant," Marcus continued, downplaying their current state of affairs. "However, the two of us have worked together in the past, and I believe we share similar interests."

  Yes, they had trained together. Cal had also fed him to a giant squid. He would have expected an angry mutter or offhand comment alluding to that event as a sort of guilt trip. The absence of one told him Marcus was trying extra hard to be cordial.

  "What interests are those?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

  If Cal were on the opposite side of this conversation, he would be having a hard time showing a similar level of restraint. For that reason, he considered dialing back his hostility.

  "I'm sure the Academy is…" Marcus seemed to lose his words, and it took him a moment to find them. "Different from what you're accustomed to, and returning from the Waste must have only reinforced those feelings, yes?"

  It felt like he was missing something, but Cal nodded anyway, wanting to see where this was going.

  "Then you must want the Academy to continue in its current state," Marcus said quickly, his voice dipping in volume while taking on a note of graveness. "Do you believe Rolland's actions contribute to this? I can tell you they do not. While our southern adversaries made concerning movements along the border, he decided to travel to the Waste. Only to then implicate a foreign dignitary while he was out there. This state of affairs is untenable, and I must be clear on the details before working to undo whatever mess he has created."

  The frustration carried in Marcus's words would have lifted Cal's spirits if he hadn't been reminded of the alleged troop movements.

  "And that's your problem why?" Cal questioned, any trace of levity in his voice a distant memory. "Shouldn't you leave that up to someone like the Headmaster?"

  If he were in a more generous mood, Cal would have mentioned Victor was already working on that. Was it happenstance that the two were aligned in that goal?

  "I'm a noble of the Empire," Marcus said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "The heir of a dukedom. I have a responsibility to ensure the realm's prosperity, and while the Academy is not my domain, it would be negligent for me to turn a blind eye to it during my tenure."

  Cal's mouth tugged to the side. He supposed that made sense.

  He drew his gaze away from the man, hunching over to trace circles in the dirt. They were idle shapes, something for his hands to do while he weighed his options.

  "Tit for tat?" he said, glancing up at the perturbed student. "What I mean is, I'd be a poor noble if I gave something for nothing. So why don't you tell me more about the border? Have there been any new developments?"

  The effect of his words was immediate, and Marcus leaned back on his heels, appearing more at ease. He let the silence almost cross into uncomfortable territory before responding.

  "Father's current theory is that they're testing our readiness by cycling their border forces. It may be the prelude to an offensive, but our intelligence is uncertain there. More concerning is that the—" Marcus's face twisted as if he'd swallowed something unpleasant. "—Fourth has not been spotted for several months. It's not the longest period she's been unaccounted for, but with tensions as they are, there is fear they may be attempting another attack on the Diet."

  Cal was more surprised that they were able to keep tabs on her. Based on his experience, she either passed out and got lost or was committing deniable war crimes around one of the Free Cities.

  "The Adjunctor is fine," Cal said, offering the bare minimum. He reconsidered a second later, knowing Marcus could have done the same. "His name is Basem, and he was in no way sucker?punched and knocked unconscious."

  His name would leak soon anyway. It didn't feel like too big a deal to let it slip early.

  "That is a specific disclaimer," Marcus said skeptically, unsure how to take Cal's statement. They stared at each other, and Cal could sense the other boys' growing discomfort. "I… hesitate to ask this. But you did not perchance assault him, did you?"

  Where would he ever get that idea?

  "If I did, it was completely justified," Cal said straight-faced.

  Before Marcus could string another sentence together, something pinged on Cal's senses. His head quirked to the side, and he placed his palm flat on the ground. Fingers curling into the dirt, he let his magic flow through him.

  This had not been on the list of potential developments for today, and he looked at Marcus, who appeared completely oblivious.

  Should he warn him?

  Nah.

  "I insist you elaborate—"

  Marcus sprang back, nearly biting his tongue off in the process. Cal remained on the ground, drawing his circles until the last possible moment. Rolling back and then onto his feet, he landed in a crouch as a stake erupted from where he'd been seated.

  Another split the earth, its base thicker than his arm. The thorn split into four pieces, each converging on his spot. It was pretty rude of her to ignore Marcus, but Cal didn't dwell on it, maneuvering back and out of the attack's range.

  Once safe, Cal nearly slapped himself across the head. He was going about this all wrong. He'd just been attacked by an unknown assailant on school property. The responsible course of action was to attack without asking questions.

  At least, that's what his defense was going to be.

  Cal blitzed forward, grabbing one of the thorns. He rotated his wrist, wrapping it around himself before giving it an experimental tug.

  Yep, this could work.

  With his augmentation running high, Cal heaved. Bit by bit, the ground tore open as the thorn was uprooted. Right before the line could reach under the stadium's wall, it pulled taut, and he felt resistance.

  Cal turned, placing it to his back. Holding the writhing thorn above him, he threw his hands down. There was a groan as something was forced through the earth and to the surface. It toppled part of the wall before soaring free through the sky.

  He watched as a green walnut the size of a car passed overhead. It didn't stay airborne long, slamming into what remained of the stands and creating a crater. Still holding onto the thorn, Cal yanked on it. It detached from the walnut, but not before causing it to carve a path through rotten seats and fly straight toward him.

  He met it halfway, punching it into a pile of rubble.

  "Callum!" Marcus shouted, attempting to gain his attention.

  Cal took that as an offer of aid and sped toward the nut. He reappeared on top of it, kicking it toward the boy, who dove out of the way.

  Had his dodging gotten better? Cal was taking credit for that.

  The federation agent fell to the earth, watching as the nut lodged itself in a pile of debris.

  "Callum, will you—"

  Cal rushed the walnut, dropping to a skid as he neared it. As he slid underneath it, he swung upwards, knocking it in the air like a beach ball.

  "All you," Cal yelled in return.

  Marcus's magic surged, a manifestation forming. Wind blew from his trident, flowing in an undulating stream. It coalesced into a thick carpet of air, visible to the naked eye. The walnut landed on it, rolling gently down from its three-story height.

  "She—erm, it attacked first," Cal said, raising an arm to point at Marcus. "You're a witness."

  There. He'd covered his bases. After all, a future duke would never lie.

  The nut rolled to a stop, standing upright. It peeled open, resembling a flower in bloom. Giant pink petals fell to the ground, surrounding a bed of yellow pollen.

  "Huh, someone was in there," Cal said, shrugging toward Marcus. "Who would have guessed?"

  The other boy looked to be thoroughly done with Cal now, refusing to acknowledge him in favor of the new arrival.

  Evergreen stood in the center of the flower, wearing her usual ensemble of dark green pants, a matching cape, and a white blouse. She held a twig between her fingers and looked unaffected by the rough ride. Vines slithered down her body, their ends attached to the petals. They must have functioned as a harness.

  "The counter and follow-up was cleanly conducted," the deputy headmistress opened, walking across one of the petals until she reached the ground. "And appropriate considering the circumstances."

  …what?

  That stunt was meant to provoke her while providing him with some plausible deniability. It would be thin, but he did just get back from a place where everything was trying to kill him. Being jumpy was natural.

  Contrary to the frown he'd expected on her, there was a mild look of approval on her face.

  "Deputy Headmistress," Marcus addressed with a slight nod. "I was not made aware that you'd be in attendance today."

  Her eyes shifted to the dukedom's heir, returning the gesture.

  "I had an opening in my schedule and thought it prudent to oversee the state of this class," she said, turning her sight to the surroundings. "This site is completely unacceptable. Had I known it was in such disrepair, I would have had it demolished."

  If she went back into the walnut, they could do just that, using her as a wrecking ball.

  "It's beginning to gain an odor," Marcus said, scrunching his nose. "Stale water must be pooling somewhere in the foundation."

  Cal sincerely doubted there was much of a foundation left. The stands were a mixture of twisted metal and splintered wood—the walls crumbling heaps of concrete. And after his most recent actions, it was questionable whether the locker room remained intact.

  "All of it will be dug up and removed posthaste. It would reflect poorly if our visitors were to stumble on it."

  There was a finality to her words, and Cal's eyes were drawn to the wreckage. He had never considered this place to hold any significance to him, but a part of him would be sad to visit and only see an empty field.

  "And who might that be?" Marcus said, intrigue in both his voice and his expression. "I know of the gentleman from Shirai already present."

  Evergreen looked into the distant sky, squinting slightly. Cal followed her gaze but saw nothing except empty clouds.

  "Guests from the north," she said, turning back to them with an appraising look in her eye. "First impressions will be important. I expect you to conduct yourself in a manner that brings honor to your heritage."

  Was it his imagination, or was her focus more on him than Marcus?

  That would be silly. She was clearly talking to the future duke.

  "The Right," Marcus said, seeking confirmation that neither gave. "She would want to collect her father. Who accompanies her?"

  If his intel was right, it was the corpse worshipers.

  "A contingent from the Blessed Order," Evergreen said, proving him right.

  Olivia had warned him about them, but if there was one thing they could agree on, it was that a Hand was a far bigger threat.

  "Truly?" Marcus remarked with surprise. "I recall they've visited the city before, but never the Academy itself."

  Evergreen thumbed her twig, and stems sprouted from the dirt around her.

  "This will be the first," she said cautiously. Her eyes flicked to the center of campus before snapping back. "There have been complications permitting their entry in the past. The grounds don't agree with them. We shall see what the assurances I received are worth."

  She didn't sound convinced they would be. He knew members of the Blessed Order all took covenants. Did the wards on campus interfere with them in some way?

  "A historic occasion then," Marcus said, sharing a deep look with the older woman. "Are there any accommodations that must be made for them?"

  "None to concern yourself with," Evergreen said in an almost reprimanding tone. "Focus on the Right's arrival. I understand your family is closer to the Left, but she's not a woman to be slighted. You must be in top form when greeting her."

  Marcus's face grew hard, but he didn't argue the point, standing in silence.

  "In lieu of your regular instructor," she continued. "I'll be overseeing your training. Since the pair of you surpass me in augmentation, I will be reviewing your manifestations."

  Uh…

  "Mr. Ardere," she said with a predatory look. "Would you care to go first?"

  He'd rather not.