Noel sat silently as Nicolas sorted through a few sealed scrolls on his desk. The director didn’t look up—just spoke calmly, eyes scanning over the docunts.
"While you were dealing with the situation in the Holy Capital, Alveron IV t with King Deyron Neral."
Noel’s brow rose slightly.
"A private eting," Nicolas continued. "Just the two of them. Took place near the neutral borderlands."
He set the scrolls aside and folded his hands.
"Deyron denied everything."
Noel didn’t respond. He expected that much.
"He claid Velmora had nothing to do with any attacks on the Holy Capital or this academy. Said his people are still paying the price for the sins of previous generations... and that starting a war now would only drag both realms into ruin."
Nicolas leaned back.
"Surprisingly, the demon king was... reasonable. Careful with his words."
Noel nodded slowly. ’Well, that’s what happened in the novel. Deyron is a very intelligent person—I know that. That’s why I corrected Nicolas earlier... the Circle isn’t made up entirely of demons.’
Nicolas rested both arms on the desk, his tone turning more serious.
"As much as I hate to admit it, Deyron did more than just talk. He agreed to collaborate."
Noel’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Collaborate how?"
"A joint investigation," Nicolas replied. "He and Alveron both committed to uncovering who was truly behind the attacks—together."
He let that sit for a mont before continuing.
"I’ll be part of that effort. Alveron specifically requested it."
Noel leaned back slightly, taking that in. "So you’ll be gone for a while."
Nicolas nodded. "I will. Soone has to represent the academy’s interests directly. And honestly... I’d rather keep my own eyes on whatever they find."
Noel stayed silent.
It wasn’t ideal.
But it made sense.
"I’ll leave shortly after the opening ceremony for the first-years," Nicolas said. "Didn’t want to disappear without at least welcoming the new batch."
Noel nodded. "Makes sense."
"In the anti, I’ve made arrangents," the director continued. "Class S will undergo a specialized training program for the entire first sester."
Noel raised an eyebrow. "A training camp?"
Nicolas’s expression stayed firm. "Not the kind with tents and campfires. Real training. Intense. Focused. Because like it or not, your class represents the future of this continent and so families of Elarith."
He gestured toward a set of papers stacked on his left. "You all need to be ready for what’s coming. No excuses."
"Who’s in charge?"
"I’ve assigned Daemar and Rauk to oversee it personally. You’ll train with them under strict rotation. Physical, magical, theoretical. All of it."
Noel exhaled slowly.
"Better to prepare now than regret later," Nicolas added.
’Seems like the changes I’ve made to the story are bringing good things too. This never happened in the original tiline...’
’Everyone’s growing faster now. If we dedicate a whole sester purely to training... maybe we can close the gap. Maybe even reach Ascendant.’
’Before eighteen... that would be a historic milestone in this world.’
"Also," Nicolas added, shifting tone slightly, "there’s an event scheduled at the end of the sester. A major one."
Noel looked up again. "What kind of event?"
"A tournant," the director replied. "Hosted in one of the central dwarven kingdoms."
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Several academies from different nations will attend. It’s a way to test the next generation. Combat trials, magical aptitude, strategy—all of it."
Noel raised an eyebrow. "Even after everything that happened?"
"Especially because of it," Nicolas said. "If we show weakness now, the entire continent starts to panic. Our enemies get bolder."
He paused, then continued.
"Class S will participate. Like it or not, you’re part of how we maintain face."
Noel didn’t argue.
He understood.
’Political strength through magical performance... classic Valor.’
Nicolas opened one of the drawers built into his desk and retrieved a small item wrapped in enchanted cloth. He unwrapped it carefully, revealing a silver dallion etched with glowing runes in a circular pattern.
"This is for you," he said, sliding it across the desk.
Noel picked it up.
The mont his fingers touched the surface, a faint shimr of blue flickered across his vision.
[Item Identified]
Na: Recall Sigil
Grade: Rare
Description: Allows ergency signaling to a marked individual. Linked to: Nicolas Von Aldros.
Noel turned it over once in his palm. "What is it?"
"Recall Sigil," Nicolas replied. "If you—or the academy—are in real danger, use it. It’ll send a signal and I’ll teleport to the closest accessible point."
Noel tilted his head. "You can’t teleport directly to ?"
"I could... if I had your exact coordinates. But spatial magic’s not as straightforward as most think. It doesn’t fall under any elental category—it’s older, harder to control."
"Got it."
Nicolas gave him a knowing look. "Don’t lose it. That piece is older than half the vault."
Noel slipped the sigil carefully into his dinsional pouch, securing it in the right slot beside where Revenant Fang was always stored—sharp, still, and quiet.
’Let’s hope I never need to use it. But if I do... at least he’ll co.’
As Noel secured the pouch at his hip, Nicolas stood and stretched lightly behind the desk.
"Oh, one more thing," he added. "I asked Daemar to teach you lightning magic."
Noel blinked. "Lightning?"
Nicolas gave him a faint grin. "That’s right."
"Isn’t that your main elent?"
"It is," Nicolas replied. "And Daemar’s too. He’s more than qualified. You’ve got potential—and lightning’s fast, disruptive, and sharp. I think it suits your style."
Noel tilted his head. "Not sure if that’s a complint."
"It is. Mostly."
Nicolas walked around the desk, stopping a step beside Noel. "Go on now. I’ve got to prepare for my trip. We’ll talk again soon."
Noel nodded once, stepping toward the door.
Just before he opened it, Nicolas called out one last ti.
"If anything happens, Noel..."
Noel looked back over his shoulder.
"...don’t hesitate to use the sigil."
A mont of silence.
Then Noel gave a short nod. "I won’t."
And with that, he stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.
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