Chapter 62: Chapter 62

There was nothing to do. He didn’t know what to talk to Severa about. She was one of the students who talked to him the most, mainly through nagging him to study, so their interactions had never had any substances.

They sat beside a fountain imbued with eternally glowing aetherlight, saying nothing. After a few moments of silence, Kestovar turned slightly toward her. “Don’t you have to return to dinner?”

“It’s too late now,” she said, not even glancing toward the manor. “If we return to the Atrium after disappearing for half a bell, it will be catastrophic.”

“So . . . can I leave?”

She turned to him, eyes narrowing in mild disbelief. “No. You are to stay until the dinner concludes. Otherwise, it would appear that I’ve been abandoned. You are, for the next hour or so, my proof of social engagement.”

“Silence.” She said as she stared down as her wristglyph glowed, and she jotted down a reply to whatever message she had just received.

Severa got what she wished for. Silence dropped between them again; even the cat-thing had gone still in her hands as if it had accepted its fate. Severa tapped its head once with an absent thumb. “So,” she said, “why did you need this cat-thing?”

“This cat is from the Synod’s scullery. The kitchen maid asked me to find him.”

“You’d rather do literally anything apart from studying.”

He shrugged, surprisingly earnest. “Finding the cat gives me meaningful progression.”

She stared at him as if he’d just spoken an alien language. “I don’t suppose this is your attempt at a metaphor? Did throwing a stone at a class bully constitute some symbolic act as well?”

He was genuinely affronted for half a breath. “You stuck sticky paper under a cat’s paw, Montreal.”

“Don’t test my temper.” Her words dissolved into a laugh—brief, airy, almost a wisp of sound—but it caught him entirely off guard. He’d never heard her laugh like that before.

He froze, realizing how his words must have sounded. Progression? To anyone not familiar with the Eidralith (which would be everyone but him), it sounded like nonsense.

So, he made a mental note: Think before speaking. Not everyone knows about quests, progression, or the artifact.

“Kestovar,” Severa pulled him out of his own train of thought.

He turned his gaze toward her, blinking rapidly as if waking from a deep reverie.

“Thank you for your company today. You have been an . . . acceptable companion. And that device of yours works well. How much time did you spend on it?”

“Uh, thank you?” He said. Thank you? She thanked me? Is this niceness a temporary feature or a permanent addition? I didn’t build the Aetheric Feline Detector, though. “Actually, I didn’t . . .”

“You didn’t build it?”

She gave a little shrug. “You would’ve fooled me if you said you did. You seem to have the talent for . . . such things.” She peered at the device now on his lap for another moment. “May I borrow it?”

He hesitated, then handed the device over. She gestured for him to sit closer. “Here, look. I think this is how it works.”

There was a soft click-click as she adjusted the pointer mechanism, tracing a thin silver line back to a small aethercache embedded in the core. “See? The conduit here channels the residual field through this microcrystal relay, which must be amplifying the feline’s unique mana signature.”

It made sense—too much sense—for him not to stare in surprise. “You build things in your free time?”

“I used to, on occasion.” Her voice was calm, but her gaze slipped briefly toward the middle distance. “But then . . . well, it rather lost its appeal. Not a matter worth revisiting.”

Severa set the device down carefully, her fingers resting for a moment against its brass frame. “Tell me, Kestovar. Have you ever considered building contraptions yourself?”

He blinked, uncertain how to answer. “I—well, sometimes. I like seeing how things fit together, but I’ve never really—”

“Then perhaps you should,” she said. “Or better yet, look into artifact enhancement. Many artifacts are refined through quartz integration, and the rest is simply a matter of engineering and precision.” She glanced at him sidelong, the corners of her mouth softening, almost like a smile. “You’d do well in that field, I reckon.”

He looked at her for a moment too long, taken aback. It wasn’t that she hadn’t given him advice before—she had, countless times—but always with the sting of superiority, or the clipped impatience of someone correcting a subordinate.

Now, though, she was simply speaking to him. Just as, well, a person might to a friend.

“I’m . . . a long way from that,” he said.

“As long as you study diligently. You are, aren’t you?”

“I am. You saw me in the Wing of Stratal Studies. I’m learning real Synod-approved knowledge.”

She peered at him again. He braced for the usual sting of reprimand, but none came. Instead, Severa only sighed. The faintest crease appeared between her brows before smoothing away again. “Do you . . . enjoy what you’re doing?”

He wasn’t sure why she asked it, or what answer she expected, but he nodded anyway. “Yes. I do.”

For a moment, Severa said nothing. Her gaze dropped to her palm, curling and uncurling fingers slowly. “I suppose,” she said at last, her voice softer than he’d ever heard it, “I’ve been rather harsh on you, at times.”

Okay? Is she actually trying to apologize or something?

That’s impossible. Severa would rather meow at a cat than apologize to him. He would never expect that much from her.

She went on, still staring at her hand. “You’re just doing something you enjoy. One doesn’t quite realize how much one misses that until they can’t anymore.”

Fabrisse didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t feel what she was feeling, but he could read the cues: the unfocused look in her eyes, the stiffness of her posture, the way her fingers hovered as if trying to remember the shape of a spell she could no longer cast.

Maybe she was having a moment of weakness. Or maybe she was simply tired. Either way, it was strange seeing her .

For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the ticking of the pointer mechanism as it cooled, and the low hush of the ambient wards buzzing somewhere in the walls.

A few seconds later, Severa lifted a hand in a small motion. “You stay here.”

Her tone wasn’t sharp, just firm enough to hush any of his potential responses. She rose, dusted off her breeches, and turned toward the corridor. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Soon, she was already gone, toward the direction of her room.

The cat-thing had curled itself into a lump on the bench, its tail twitching like a lazy metronome. The aetheric detector gave a soft tick, then another. He rubbed the back of his neck, doing quick mental math on the time.

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Way too late to go home. The dorm gates would only be closed, not sealed, but the Synod patrols didn’t take kindly to after-hours wanderers. He sighed, shoulders sinking. “Quest failed,” he muttered under his breath.

He was halfway to convincing himself to nap upright when he heard her footsteps again. Severa appeared at the end of the corridor, hands clasped neatly behind her back.

“I have something to return to you,” she said as she approached, hands still behind her back.

Return? The only thing she’d ever taken from him was his Stupenstone, the rare one he’d used during that experiment three weeks ago. It can’t be, can it?

“I have had . . . difficulties today, you see,” she continued, letting the words simmer. “I would appreciate it if you pretend whatever oddities you have observed today didn’t exist.”

“Oddities?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, almost whispering, “the cat, my brother’s study, and . . . the other matter.”

He fell silent for a beat. The other matter? Like how she tackled the cat and dropped from a stack of crates? Or maybe, it was . . .

He said, “That you can’t resonate with the aether?”

Her eyes widened. From his angle, her pupils darkened into a bloodied red, as if she was trying to asphyxiate him with a glare alone.

So . . . what did I do wrong, or is the niceness a temporary feature?

He barely noticed the garden around him, the fountain’s aetherlight, the mechanical birds, until an unfamiliar sound resounded. “Is there something wrong with your aetheric reserves, dear sister?”

The words detonated through his concentration. He looked up and saw Severa’s older brother, Forsing. He hadn’t noticed the man step into the garden at all.

Severa’s reaction was immediate. Her cheeks flushed as she turned aside to face him. “Nothing! I was just fatigued, that was all!”

The older man’s gaze swept over her, eyebrows arching in that infuriatingly knowing way, and Fabrisse realized he had been caught entirely unaware. “That is precisely why one ought to be especially cautious in a dungeon,” Forsing continued, voice even. “All too often, imprudent actions bring about consequences most disagreeable. We can arrange for a capable healer, so you may be restored and continue your . . . amusements without further interruption.”

Does this guy always talk ? Maybe rich people swallow a dictionary every year to help with vocabulary retention, leading to all these mighty-sounding words you see them sneak into every line.

“No need. I have already recovered,” she snapped.

“Suits yourself, sister.” Forsing smiled. “So, what is your friend’s name?”

Severa turned her gaze to Kestovar, grinding her teeth so hard it looked like her lower jaw was biting back. “Kestovar.”

Fabrisse turned away.

Forsing nodded once, ever-so-slowly. “Kestovar seems like an honest person, sister. You should keep a few of them close.” Then, with a tip of his head, he turned and strolled off.

Fabrisse stared at Severa’s back. That was an adequate showing, right? I didn’t do anything; I kept my composure, I—

She spun back to Fabrisse, eyes blazing. “He walked into your line of sight, and you still said that? You! You! Just as I thought—you’re just here to sabotage me! I let my guard down for a second, and you pounced on me like . . . like . . .” Her hand went to her pocket, trembling, and she ripped a thousand Kohns from it, throwing the coins at him with more force than grace. They clattered around his feet. “Take your money and leave! Get out of my sight!” Then she tossed the cat-thing at him. “Out!”

In that instant when her fingers loosened, the faintest glint of quartz slipped from her grasp. The stone clattered right in front of her boots. So she was trying to return the stone.

He instinctively moved to reach for it.

“Don’t even think about it,” she snapped, snatching the rock up before it stopped rolling. Her hand closed tight around it as she bared her teeth. “Out.”

Fabrisse felt his own head tilt down, cat and coins clutched tightly, wishing the ground could swallow him. He was careless and didn’t even see Forsing there, but that surely couldn’t justify the outburst?

I didn’t actively sabotage her at any stage. All I said was a few misplaced lines. Why is she so mad?

And I thought we were getting somewhere.

His lips parted, perhaps to protest, perhaps to explain, but she cut him off with a single pointed glare that pinned him in place.

The cat-thing meowed once.

Fabrisse looked down at the scattered coins and the flailing cat-thing, completely unsure what to do. After a moment, he stooped and scooped the coins into a loose fist, letting a few slip through his fingers before finally gathering them. He tucked them awkwardly into his robe pocket and began toward the garden gate with the cat still wriggling in his other arm. Then, as if remembering something important, he paused and glanced back.

“Will I still get a carriage back home? It’s unsafe alone at this hour,” he asked.

“Just get out!” Severa yelled at him. He knew that he had to remove himself from her sight. She’d never let a grudge go, which was rather unfortunate. Sucks that this happened. Severa even thanked him for his company earlier, something she had never done before.

Fabrisse inclined his head slightly and disappeared from view. Guess I’ll walk home.

QUEST COMPLETE: “Trial by Table Etiquette”

Objective: Survive a dinner in the Montreal household without embarrassing yourself.

Reward: +50 EXP, +2 FOR,+2 INT, +3 Water Thaumaturgy Mastery Points

Bonus Objective: Embarrass Severa Montreal in front of the guests.

Reward: +1 Fire Thaumaturgy Mastery Points

Water? This is useless. I don’t even have Water affinity. And the Bonus Objective too . . . I swear I didn’t intend on meeting that . . .

“Unsafe to travel alone . . .” He already knew the route back. Between darkened streets and unsupervised alleys, it was a recipe for mishaps. Not to mention his luck. Not an option.

QUEST COMPLETE: “Trial by Table Etiquette”

QUEST ONGOING: “The Cat-Thing Caper”

[TIME REMAINING: 5 minutes 22 seconds]

It would be impossible to finish the quest in time, so he reckoned he would just prioritize safety. Fabrisse pulled out his wristglyph and began drafting a brief message to Liene: “I need a favor. Only a 20-minute walk. l’ll send you the coordinate—”

He turned toward the voice. A servant in a neatly pressed uniform bowed at him as his eyes wandered toward the garden gate. “Young Mistress requested that a carriage be prepared for your return. There will be a guard traveling alongside, as she insisted it be done. She wishes the promise fulfilled.”

“Why?” he asked cautiously. If Severa had been about to lash out at him seconds ago, would she really . . . extend a genuine offer of safe passage?

The servant inclined his head with measured politeness. “It is as the Young Mistress instructed, sir.”

Fabrisse hesitated. He’d survived her tirades, her sudden outbursts, and her scorn. Why now—after all that chaos—would she grant him something so considerate?

He started walking toward the estate gate, cat tucked securely in one arm, and the sight that met him made him pause.

There it was: a carriage, glossy black with the Montreal crest gleaming on its doors, polished to a mirror finish. A mounted guard in overpolished armor nodded once toward him.

Fabrisse exhaled. There’s at least one honorable trait about Severa, he thought. She might be volatile, but she keeps her promises.

He inclined his head to the servant and the guard, acknowledging them, then carefully lifted the cat into the carriage, making sure it was comfortable. As he settled into the carriage, the cat-thing wriggled furiously. Fabrisse groaned, leaning forward to peel one of the sticky papers free. The adhesive clung, threatening to pull fur along with it, so he had to methodically peel them out extremely slowly, one by one.

He shuddered. I’ve pissed Severa off again. This is what she did to a cat she just met. What will she do to me?

That’s a story for next week. She still needs me on Friday, so she can’t do anything yet.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last bit of paper came free. Fabrisse let out a quiet sigh of relief and set the cat gently on the plush seat beside him. He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved the treat he’d been using to lure it all afternoon. Holding it out, he said, “Eat up, kitty. You also deserve a breather.”

The cat sniffed, then eagerly accepted the treat. Fabrisse leaned back against the carriage’s velvet upholstery, allowing himself a small smile.

QUEST ONGOING: “The Cat-Thing Caper” Follow current novels on Nove1Fire.net

[TIME REMAINING: 0 minutes]

At least, the rest of the trip was rather uneventful, and he managed to return the cat to the scullery, not before getting a handful from Marla for not returning before eight. She told him Laika would’ve eventually returned by himself, but a student should not have left Synod grounds to begin with. He didn’t argue with that.

[Training Completed: +33 EXP]

[Progress to Level 5: 1077/1500]