Cuman leaned forward with a triumphant scoff. “See? Even Rhel—”
“—But,” Rhel continued, eyes still fixed on the floor, “Cuman already had flairs drawn. I could feel that, too. And everyone knows how he gets when there’s a crowd.”
Cuman blinked. “Wait. What?”
“I’m just saying,” Rhel went on, still speaking to the marble tiles, “if I’d been the one holding the stone, I probably would’ve thrown it sooner.”
A rustle spread across the room like wind through parchnt. Even Miro looked up from behind them, shocked.
Cuman spun toward Rhel. His jaws were so clenched together they looked fused by a glueing spell. “What is wrong with you?”
“Mr. Gollivur. Please do not interfere again,” Norraden said, still calmly, but with a sharper edge this ti. “Consider this your second formal warning. There won’t be a third.”
“Did you hear what Rhel said? He’s obviously a partial and unreliable witness, fueled by a personal vendetta against !” Cuman seethed. Fabrisse could practically hear his teeth grinding. He slowly turned forward, back stiff as a sword.
Rhel’s voice had steadied. “Gollivur didn’t deserve to get hit in the head,” he admitted, nodding toward Cuman. “But he did start it.”
That was it.
Fabrisse sank about half an inch deeper into his chair, unsure whether to exhale or just collapse into vapor. His heart felt like it had been wrung out and hung to dry, and he could see Cuman mouthing in silence, sothing about doing unspeakable things to Rhel.
Tommaso gave a fist pump against his knee, careful to keep it below table level.
The scribe’s quill hadn’t stopped once.
Norraden raised her head again. “Testimony noted.” She lifted her hand, palm outward. The glyph-seal on the record scroll flared. It was binding now. “The Board has reviewed the testimonies and preliminary evidence. Here are our findings.”
A faint ripple of breath moved through the chamber. Even Tommaso straightened.
“Fabrisse Kestovar,” she said, gaze sharp. “Your conduct was impulsive but not malicious. You responded to a perceived threat during an emotionally charged situation in an open demonstration space. While use of a Silico-Dormant Obscura in this context is not encouraged, your response does not et the threshold for punitive sanction. You will receive one formal caution and be required to attend a conflict de-escalation seminar.”
Fabrisse’s mouth opened, but no sound ca out. Liene, behind him, nodded quickly—take the win.
Norraden continued. “Tommaso Ardefiam. Your unauthorized spellcasting resulted in property damage and a cascading escalation of the incident. However, your docunted spell paraters, paired with the cited Practice Grounds Manifest, suggest that the dummies were not up to compliance. We have already initiated a review of the dummy lot’s insulation glyphs. Should your claims be verified, your disciplinary infraction will be reduced to a procedural citation and forwarded to your Corps handler.”
Support creative writers by reading their stories on , not stolen versions.
What? So the dummies were actually defective? Did Tom know this, or did he just luck out?
Tommaso offered a salute. “Understood. Looking forward to being yelled at by a different bureaucracy.”
Aval muttered, “Again.”
“And finally—Cuman Gollivur.” Norraden’s voice flattened like a gavel. “You entered the Ring with active spellflairs during scheduled instruction. You advanced on a fellow student, in a manner that multiple witnesses interpreted as confrontational. Regardless of your stated intention, you contributed significantly to the escalation. Given your prior behavioral record and prior informal warnings, the Board issues the following: you are placed on temporary instructional probation. You are barred from leading, demonstrating, or facilitating peer instruction in any Synod-recognized capacity until such ti that this restriction is lifted by review.”
Cuman stood. “That’s not—!”
“Sit down,” Norraden said.
Cuman sat. The bench creaked under him.
“Further protests will be noted as disruptive behavior,” she added. “This hearing is now concluded.”
The glyph seal flashed again.
The scribe capped her ink with a snap.
The mont the silence resud, Tommaso exhaled. Loudly. “Whew. That’s a yes to not dying today.”
Fabrisse just stared forward, still a little stunned. This conclusion was too good, but he thought he knew why the wording around Cuman’s probation was so vague. ‘Until such ti that this restriction is lifted by review’? The Synod could lift the restriction any ti they chose to, and with Cuman’s uncle in the Discipline Board, it was but a matter of ti.
Not that it mattered. What mattered was that he’d gotten away with it, lightly.
Liene reached over the bench from behind and whispered, “You would’ve been able to attend zero seminars had you followed my notes.”
Fabrisse whispered back, “I—”
“I prepared a diagram, Fabri. A diagram.”
Behind them, Cuman muttered sothing under his breath and stord out of the hall, with Miro trailing and Rhel very much not looking at him. As he passed Fabrisse, he stared at him, then at Tommaso, but ultimately said nothing. Fabrisse just knew this wouldn’t be the last of him.
The door shut behind them.
Fabrisse rubbed his forehead. “I think I need to lie down.”
“Already booked you a debrief pie,” Tommaso added.
Liene rolled her eyes. “You two are insufferable.”
“You say that now,” Tommaso said, already rising. “But just wait until I file a petition to officially rena that move ‘The Stupenstone Arc.’”
“Don’t,” Liene hissed, as she grabbed her folder. “Let’s just leave with dignity.”
As the trio gathered their things, Lorvan stepped down from the gallery and approached them. “I don’t know what ridiculous entity you three pray to,” Lorvan said before turning to Tommaso. “But don’t test its generosity again. Especially you, Mr. Ardefiam. One would expect your current station to have instilled at least a minimal sense of restraint.”
Tommaso gave a two-finger salute, too lazy to be respectful. “You’d think so. They tried.”
Lorvan sighed. “Don’t mistake bureaucratic rcy for approval.” He started to turn away, then added, “That said . . . well played, Kestovar.”
Was that a complint?
As he gazed at Lorvan’s back, he noticed a figure standing at the edge of the upper columns, partially obscured by a drape of wallshadow.
Rimmar Ciemnosc.
What’s he doing here? Is he Synod-staffed? But he’s a student.
Their eyes t.
Rimmar nodded at him once, then slipped into the corridor beyond the archway. He was gone.
Fabrisse frowned. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Liene asked, already stuffing papers back into her satchel.
“Soone was watching the whole ti,” he murmured, more to himself.
“Yeah. Half the Synod was watching the whole ti.” She shoved him lightly. “Let’s go before they change their minds.”
Still, as they exited the Hall of Conduct and stepped into the early dusk, Fabrisse glanced back once, just in case.
The gallery was empty.
Reviews
All reviews (0)