Planning

"Hmm-hmm. They got ye good."

"…Nn…!"

Kimberly's first-floor infirmary, the domain of the school physician, Gisela

Zonneveld. A man lay on her operating table, writhing in agony—the student

body president, Alvin Godfrey.

"Slipshod, Godfrey. Won't end up like this 'less ye leave yourself wide open."

"…Fair point…"

As he gasped an answer, Dr. Zonneveld roughly probed his chest cavity like a

short-order cook in a greasy diner. She had a habit of making her patients feel

like so much meat on a slab. Kimberly students were known for learning healing

magic faster than average, mainly because nobody wanted to end up in the

school infirmary.

"The flesh—well, the bone's gone, but that's nary a concern. But your ether,

you cannae leave that unguarded. Deformatio."

She pulled her hand, dripping with blood, out of him; the athame in her other

hand was pointed at a white stone as she chanted a spell that altered it into the

shape of a bone—the exact shape of the sternum Godfrey had lost.

"I'm planting a fake 'un for you. You're a regular here, boyo. Ye get my drift,

yeah?"

That was a warning to brace himself. The man gritted his teeth. He'd been

here several times a year, every year. He knew how this doctor worked—like

how she almost never used anesthetic.

"…Any time."

So his answer was in full knowledge of that. Dr. Zonneveld grinned and took a

tight grip on the fake bone.

"Good answer. Scream all ye like, but don't bite your tongue!"

She slammed the bone into the wound, and it snapped into place. A literal

bone-shaking blow. Godfrey did his level best to stifle the scream trying to tear

its way out of his throat.

The treatment over with, Dr. Zonneveld sat at the window, smoking. There

was a knock at the door, and several students came in—at the fore, Lesedi

Ingwe, a veteran member of the Watch.

"Dr. Zonneveld, how's Godfrey doing?"

The doctor didn't even turn around, just blew a puff of smoke out the

window.

"…Made a new bone, slotted it in," she answered matter-of-factly through the

smoke. "The ether wound is not so easily healed. Not that large a tear, so it can

be fixed, but expect it to take two months."

Every face turned grim. With elections looming, that was far too long. Worse

yet, the combat league was ongoing.

"While the ether body's damaged, ye cannae escape disruptions in mana

manipulation. This fella'll be up and about in days, but in a fight, he'll be

useless. Kah-ha-ha-ha! Yer up shit's creek, fraid."

"There's no way to speed it along?" Lesedi asked, ignoring the bait.

This got the doctor to spin around and point her cigarette at the Watch

members.

"There is, and you know it. Get the bone back. The ether's stuck on it. If I have

that, won't take me even five minutes."

Lesedi nodded. The doctor here knew no kindness, but she never once

embellished a patient's condition. If she said she could fix it, she would. If she

said she couldn't, she couldn't. If she said they were dead, they'd die. And thus

—if she claimed she could fix Godfrey's ether in five minutes, the only option

was to bring her the missing bone.

"Very well. Gimme a few days." With that, Lesedi turned on her heel and led

her company out. On her way down the hall, she spat, "Urgent summons."

"…That…sure was a turnup…," Katie whispered.

The common room was abuzz with chatter about the match, including Katie,

who recalled the cause of said turnup.

Across the table, Guy folded his arms, groaning. "They hauled Godfrey

straight to the infirmary after the prelim. Is he gonna be okay?"

"…We can't be sure. But it's hardly a minor injury."

"If his recovery's prolonged, it'll affect the election as well as the league. I do

hope I'm fretting over nothing, yet…"

Chela trailed off, taking a sip of tea. As a silence settled over them…a voice

came from below.

"Um…I hate to interrupt the gloom, but…Oliver? Nanao?"

"Yes, Leik?"

"Speak, Yuri."

"Why am I being restrained?"

Oliver and Nanao were on either side of him, holding him firmly in place. He

was facedown with both their hands on his shoulders.

"Because if we release you, you'll go rushing into the labyrinth," Oliver

replied. "Don't be so hasty. The plan to meet Rivermoore on campus might be a

bust, but I'm working on an alternative."

"Okay, I can wait. I promise! So I'd really appreciate you letting me go. This

floor is quite hard and rather cold."

"Ah! Yuri, squirm like that and your shoulder may dislocate."

"I'm well aware of your strength, Nanao! I feel it in my creaking joints!"

Oliver ignored Yuri's protestations, his mind racing. They were waiting for the

upperclassmen's move. The ambush on President Godfrey had been a shock to

everyone, but that had made Cyrus Rivermoore the enemy of the Watch—the

current student council. Reprisals were a given. And he planned to keep Yuri

down until those plans were announced.

His prediction was proven right mere minutes later. Bird familiars came in

through the window, dropping letters on the students in the room—including

their table.

"Oh—!"

"What's this?"

Each student received one, and a seventh letter was left to flutter slowly

down to Yuri's head. Oliver glanced around and saw Stacy and Fay opening

letters of their own.

Peering at the contents, Chela frowned.

"Attendance requested by the Watch. But including third-years?"

"…We'll have to go and see what's up," said Oliver.

"Indeed! I shall haul Yuri along."

"I can walk! I have feet of my own!"

They arrived at the classroom specified and found quite a crowd already

gathered. Glancing around the faces assembled, Oliver and Chela soon spotted

a trend.

"…Combat-league participants?"

"Looks like we're the core, yes. I don't see Rick's team, so they didn't call in

everybody."

"Oh, they brought you in, too, Team Horn?"

As they stepped in, a voice called out from the corner. A boy in regulation

uniform, very studious-looking—it took Oliver a second, but then he placed the

distinct nose.

"…Mr. Mistral. Sorry, but you gave a rather different impression during the

match."

"Can't keep myself that amped up all the time, can I? I'm more the bookworm

type, really."

"…Come to think of it, I have seen you in the library," Pete said, squinting at

him.

"Mr. Reston, yes?" Mistral shrugged. "I know you read fast, but you gotta stop

hauling a pile of twenty or thirty books to your table. Those specialty

magineering texts in particular! If there's a volume missing in the middle, I

pretty much always find it in your pile."

"Oh…s-sorry, I'll try and reshelve more often."

"Thanks. Books are a shared asset."

Fresh off that sensible advice, Mistral turned his attention elsewhere. He

hadn't been trying to start stuff but was merely saying hi to some familiar faces.

This caught Oliver off guard until another student approached.

"I anticipated your presence here."

A female student, eyes hidden behind her bangs, flanked by two companions.

Unlike Mistral, she was unmistakable.

"Ms. Ames…," Oliver said, turning to face her.

"A pleasure, Mr. Horn."

A well-mannered greeting. He considered this for a moment and elected to

voice a complaint.

"…The match wound up being a fine experience, but three-on-one was

certainly nerve-racking. Whether team or individual, I hope we next fight oneon-one."

"If you desire it, gladly. I no longer have anything to hide from you."

There was a hint of self-deprecation in her smile. Oliver was well aware she

was referring to the power move she'd pulled at the end of their duel. While he

debated how to respond, the girls on either side of Ames pounced.

"Hey, hey, hey—don't get cocky, Mr. Horn. We all know that win was a fluke."

"Damn straight! Next time, our Jaz is gonna take you down."

The rest of Team Ames clearly held a grudge. Oliver was left even more at a

loss, but Nanao folded her arms, looking serious.

"Mm, indeed. Had her companions been as formidable as Ames herself, our

victory would have been in doubt."

""Gah!""

The Azian girl meant no insult by this, but it eviscerated both lackeys like a

naginata strike. They staggered backward. Ames sighed and stepped out from

their shadow.

"Calm yourselves, ladies. I apologize on my companions' behalf. I'm afraid I

have been too soft on them in the past."

"Aughhhh…"

"Sorry, Jaz! Sorry we're so weak!"

Tears in their eyes, each companion clung to one of Ames's sleeves. Oliver

was starting to find their antics…heartwarming. They'd clearly been together

awhile. These two were a bit deferential, which likely reflected their families'

relationships with Ames's.

Ames patted both their heads, then faced forward again.

"Oh, and…Mr. Horn, Mr. Leik—and if possible, Mr. Reston. What would you

say to sharing a private meal with me in the near future?"

"? I wouldn't mind, but…you mean to go over the match?"

Oliver wasn't sure what to make of this invitation. But beneath her bangs, a

smile played on Ames's lips.

"That excuse suits me well. My family is old but of little fame. It is high time I

started laying the groundwork for marriage."

The last word made the air freeze instantly. Oliver quickly stepped between

her and Pete.

"Y-you may do as you like with Leik, but not Pete."

"…I mean, I wasn't going to accept, but why are you turning her down for

me?"

"It's too soon for you!"

"Again, who asked you?"

Pete's protests hit him in the back, but Oliver refused to budge. A puff of air

escaped Ames's nostrils.

"Apologies. Perhaps that was too aggressive. I shall reissue the invite at a later

occasion."

Backing off, she turned to go. Her companions followed, hissing, "We never

forget!" "Watch yourself on a moonless night!" Oliver and his group were left

feeling rather bowled over.

"…That escalated quickly," Guy said. "But I guess it's about that time, huh?

Next year, we'll all be in the upper forms."

"…Hmph…"

He seemed to take things in stride, but there was a small grumble from the

curly-haired girl next to him. He glanced down and found her cheeks puffed up.

"? What're you sulking about, Katie? No one's going anywhere."

"…She didn't mention your name, Guy."

"Huh? Ah, right, she didn't. Guess I didn't meet her standards, sadly."

"Oh, so you did want her after you!"

"I didn't say that! What are you actually mad about?"

Katie's intense badgering left Guy backing away, and Chela was forced to

intervene.

"Hold that bickering for now—they're about to start."

They followed her gaze and saw an upperclassman at the podium. Everyone

quickly took their seats. Eyes like daggers, the dark-skinned Watch veteran

scanned the faces of the assembled third-years and began speaking.

"Lesedi Ingwe, seventh-year. Godfrey's recuperating, so until he's up and

about, I'm proxy president. I imagine many of you are confused by the

unexpected invite, but let me first thank you for coming."

Her gratitude didn't ease their tension at all.

"If it helps settle your nerves, the Watch won't be forcing you to do anything.

This is simply a request for aid. But to be clear, it's an extremely urgent one.

The matter affects every student at Kimberly. And since you're all backing

Godfrey, this isn't someone else's problem."

Whatever this was about, it seemed they had a right to refuse. That itself was

a comfort, and they settled in to hear her out.

"Let me start from the top. You all know how Godfrey sustained his injury.

The wound itself will heal over time, but the recovery will take a long while.

That's less than good. His term may be almost over, but he's still got work to

do."

She didn't need to explain what that work entailed. Everyone here knew. One

look at Kimberly's history told you the combat-league victor's speech had huge

pull with voters, and with the race as close as this one, that alone could decide

the outcome. If he wanted the next president to be his successor, Godfrey had

to win the league. And his supporters needed that to happen.

"There's only one way to heal his wound faster: steal the bone back from

Cyrus Rivermoore. Which takes me to why we've called you here."

The name she dropped made everyone tense up again. A student in one

corner called out, "You want us to help recover the bone?"

"Exactly. I'm sure you've worked it out by now, but there were two factors

that got you an invite here. First, you're all Godfrey supporters. And second,

you've all made it to the main round of the combat league. In other words,

you're officially the best fighters in the third year. Bluntly speaking, we think

you're capable of holding your own in a labyrinth fight."

Oliver had figured as much. Andrews's team was absent because they didn't

meet the first requirement, and the second-year teams had simply been

deemed not strong enough.

As it started adding up, Ames raised her hand.

"…That is an honor, but may I ask why you've gone with underclassmen

against a force of Rivermoore's level? This seems like a concern that would

normally be handled by the Watch alone, or at least be kept to the upper

forms."

"You're hitting us where it hurts, but the answer's pretty simple. We're trying

to avoid the upperclassmen directly clashing over Godfrey's bone. Not mincing

words here—if that happens, people will die. We're gonna have the bulk of the

older students stay on campus, indicating they ain't part of the search—which

also warns the other side's upperclassmen off labyrinth delving themselves.

This idea is to avoid an all-out war neither side desires. And they've shaken on

that deal." She went on. "Plus, with the election in full swing, we've gotta be on

guard against unexpected 'accidents' before the match date. That's an

additional duty on top of what the Watch usually handles—which means we've

got limited staff to put on the bone search."

By "accidents," she clearly meant sabotage by the old student council. A

shiver ran down Oliver's spine when he imagined the titanic struggle raging just

out of sight even as they spoke. He couldn't help but remember that mess in

the broom league last year.

"So we're committing minimal older students to the search. Given the scope

of the area we need to cover, they alone may not get anywhere. That's where

you come in. With me so far?"

Lesedi broke off, scanning the room. When no one asked a question, she got

down to brass tacks.

"Obviously, not enough information to commit. So let me expand.

"First, while I said you're capable of holding your own, that doesn't mean we

expect you to go up against Rivermoore himself. That would be insane. What

we want from you is help covering more ground and the pressure on

Rivermoore that causes. You've been through the team battles, so I'm sure you

catch my drift."

If you wanted to corner your prey, numbers were a big advantage. Oliver's

team had learned that the hard way when all three teams came after them, but

everyone here was well aware. The third-years stood no chance going up

against Cyrus Rivermoore themselves, but that meant they could stick to

surveillance and support and do a lot to improve the search's efficacy.

"And we won't be sending you down there on your own. We'll be running

four-man cells, and each of those will have an upperclassman to supervise. Who

that is may change day by day, but assume you'll mostly be operating with your

combat-league team plus one of us. That keeps the risk to a minimum, and if

shit does go south, the upperclassman'll bear the brunt while you guys get

outta there."

So each three-person team was effectively going to be treated as one real

asset. Oliver felt that showed some real discretion on the Watch's part. No

matter how up against the wall they were here, they weren't about to stick the

younger students in harm's way. A core belief underpinning Lesedi's whole

speech.

"We'll start tomorrow night and go as long as three weeks. We have, of

course, narrowed down the search perimeter—namely, where in the labyrinth

Rivermoore is hiding. But to prevent outside interference, we're not disclosing

that information until you've indicated your participation. Assume threat levels

equivalent to the third and fourth layers and more undead than magical beasts.

That's about all I'll say here. If you're scared of spooky stuff, best to drop out

now."

Lesedi flashed them a grin. But she was only half joking—this was also a test.

She was seeing if the kids here were ready to go up against the undead. That

required less fighting technique than it did mental stability—if your mind was

made of Swiss cheese, they'd get their fingers stuck in it. Get possessed or

driven mad, and you could well prove a greater threat than the undead

themselves.

The third-years were forced to weigh the threat levels against their own

strengths.

Scowling, Mistral muttered, "Given what we're up against…I'd love to say the

reward ain't worth the risk. But the times being what they are…we're the ones

in trouble if the president stays down."

"We should help, not quibble," Stacy chimed in. "Unless we want Kimberly to

be even worse next year."

She was a Cornwallis, an old family of some repute—but also a child of the

main family branch, the McFarlanes. That left her following Chela's lead here

and supporting Godfrey.

"I appreciate that sentiment," Lesedi said, smiling. "But don't worry about the

reward. You aren't Watch members, and we'd have a lot of nerve asking you to

risk your lives without any payment. Besides, this is Kimberly. The idea of asking

mages to help based on goodwill and sound morals ain't just futile, it's legit

disturbing."

She made a show of shuddering, then leaned forward.

"Five hundred thousand advance each, another on success. Godfrey's team

wins the league, we'll put another five hundred thousand belc on top of that.

Still ain't squat compared to the league prizes, but it's a heck of a lot better

than your allowance. Plus—while the operation's in effect, you'll get firsthand

instruction from your upperclassman supervisor. To some of you, that might be

worth more than gold."

A murmur went through the room. Even if the search failed to pay off and

they were left with only the advance, that was pretty good pay for three weeks'

work.

"…No take backs?" a member of Team Mistral asked.

"None."

Lesedi followed that with a spell. A number of purses flew from the sack at

her seat, scattering around the room and dropping before each student with

the distinctive sound of metal against metal. They opened them up and found

heaps of coins inside.

"If you're in, keep it. If you're not, leave it. If you need time, swing by the

Campus Watch Headquarters when you've made up your minds. I swear by

Godfrey's and the Watch's names, there will be no penalties for refusing. That

is, if the Watch even exists next year."

Lesedi put her wand back on her hip. The purses in everyone's hands carried

far more weight than the coins within.

"One last thing to help you decide. We've got a lot of experience with these

situations, and it's our belief that Cyrus Rivermoore has not been consumed by

the spell. There's not even any indication he might be on the brink of it. He is

now and will be in full possession of his faculties. Up to you what you make of

that. A mad beast and a rational one each pose a threat, and the discrepancy is

not easily measured. And our goal is to back that beast into a corner."

She clearly had no intention of hiding the dangers here. Oliver thought that

was indicative of the Watch's sincerity, but they were also honest to a fault.

Candor could often work against you in the hellscape of Kimberly. And their

opposition—Percival Whalley—had frequently slammed them for it.

"..."

But to his mind, this was why he believed their ambitions worth preserving.

For that reason, he took the purse and stuffed it in his pocket. His eyes met

Lesedi's, and she grinned.

"One question!" Yuri said, pocketing his own purse.

Lesedi turned toward him. "Yes, Mr. Leik?"

"I've been looking into this, and I believe that over the years, Rivermoore has

gathered enough bones to form a complete human body. With that in mind—do

you have any theories as to what drives him? Or what his purpose is?"

That certainly sent a stir around the room. Even Lesedi frowned.

"First I've heard of it. What's the basis of your assumption?"

"I went through the Watch records on students Rivermoore's attacked and,

wherever possible, spoke to the student involved. I made a list of the bones

they lost and found not a single duplicate. Here's the specifics."

Yuri pulled a wad of paper out of his pocket and, with a wave of his wand,

sent it to the podium. Lesedi caught it, and as her eyes scanned the list, her

expression turned grim.

"…Slipped right under our noses, huh?" she muttered. "Stealing bones was

just what he did, and we never even thought to question it. Much less notice

something this obviously systematic."

She tapped her knuckles against her temple. Once she'd finished reading, she

looked up at Yuri.

"We'll go over this data in detail and task reliable necromancers with

analyzing it. I'll have to answer your question later, Mr. Leik, but I appreciate

your bringing this to our attention. I'm genuinely impressed you managed to get

this many to talk."

"I was very persistent. Eight of them tried to kill me."

"You're thick-skinned!" She flashed him a smile. "Join the Watch once this is

all over. We'll work you to the bone."

With that, she turned to the rest of the room.

"Unexpected intel aside, that's all we've got to say here. The operation details

will be shared later on, exclusively with those who decide to join in. For that

reason, I'm requesting your answers no later than noon tomorrow. Even if you

accepted the reward on the spot, should you change your mind before then,

feel free to return it. No one will mock or accost you for it. Be sure you're

making the right decision."

Outside the classroom, the Sword Roses headed to the Fellowship for dinner.

They found Miligan there, campaigning. Her stump speech over, she joined

their table, and when they mentioned the search for Rivermoore, she bounded

to her feet.

"Aha! That calls for me!" she cried.

Another girl swiftly put her in a full nelson—Lynette Cornwallis. The

relationship they'd formed dealing with Salvadori had proved lasting, and she

was now instrumental to Miligan's campaign.

"Are you nuts? You're running for president! You've already got a target on

your back! I'm not letting you delve into the labyrinth at all, much less waste

your time dealing with anything not directly campaign-related! Or do you want

to find yourself face-to-face with Echevalria himself?!"

"Please! I want to teach these children! Hone their skills, make them strong,

stomp the competition in the finals! Then feast my eyes on the look on Mr.

Whalley's face!"

"Y-you don't even try to disguise it! You get just one taste of teaching and…

Stace! Help! I've gotta drag this dumbass outta here!"

"Very well. Chela, I'll be right back."

"I'll help."

Stacy and Fay pitched in, and the Snake-Eyed Witch was dragged out of the

room, kicking and screaming.

Watching them go, Guy muttered, "…Yeah, that was never happening. Can't

have her along."

"Unfortunately, no." Oliver agreed. "The whole operation is about ensuring a

Watch candidate wins, so we can't very well expose that candidate to any real

danger."

Pete leaned in. "Forget the upperclassmen—what about us? Are we in?"

Everyone exchanged glances. Oliver had already made up his mind, so he

spoke first.

"…I've accepted the reward already, so I certainly intend to. Even without the

election factor, I owe Godfrey a few favors. It's a good chance to pay those

back."

"I just wanna meet Rivermoore, so obviously I'm in," Yuri added.

"An earnest request from our honored predecessors. No true warrior would

refuse, nor shall I."

Nanao showed no hesitation, so Pete turned his gaze to Chela, who nodded.

"Stace is in, so I am, too. I'm sure Mr. Willock will join us."

"So both your teams are all in," Guy said, focusing. "Guess we'll have to make

up our minds, then."

Pete turned to him, and Katie folded her arms, thinking.

"I do want President Godfrey recovering soon…but are we actually up to the

task? We're not gonna be in the way or anything? I mean, we made it to the

main round, but we're hardly on the same level as Oliver and Nanao…"

"We don't need to be," Pete said. "Ms. Ingwe said they don't need us to fight;

they need us to widen the ground they cover. If we weren't good enough,

they'd never have brought us in. Personally, I'd like to go. That half a million

belc alone is highly tempting, and I'm curious what we can learn from them."

Everything he said made sense to Katie, but she didn't seem quite ready to

commit.

Guy put his hands on her shoulders. "All right, then, we're in," he said.

Surprised, Katie turned to look at him.

"Wh-what? We're just settling it that easily? Pete and I are always hard up,

but you're fine on cash! No need to make us drag you into— Eek!"

Rather than let her finish, he'd stuck his hand into her hair and was busy

messing it up. As she struggled, he made a face.

"Why would I not want money? Always nice to have. And that settles it!"

"What's that got to do with my hair?!"

"You had it coming."

With that, he finally let go of her head, and she huffily started straightening it

back out.

Watching this with a smile, Oliver put a hand to his chin.

"My concern is how the old council will act. I can't imagine they'll sit idly by,

but they're likely just as shorthanded. If our side is calling in the third-years,

then right about now…"

"Thus, the plan is to locate Rivermoore and steal Godfrey's bone before the

Watch can. Any questions?"

In a classroom on the third floor—not the one the Watch had used—Leoncio

Echevalria was running a meeting with much the same goal. The students

before him were also primarily third-years who had qualified for the main

league: all teams Lesedi had left off her list because she knew they were

backing his camp. Among them were Team Liebert, who'd traded blows with

Team Horn, and Team Andrews, who'd steamrolled over Team Aalto.

Once Leoncio had completed his rundown of the request, a third-year at the

back hesitantly raised his hand.

"One question…is participation mandatory?"

"We're only asking for voluntary cooperation. Though I hardly think refusing

would be wise."

"Then I am out," Rossi said. He had his legs up on a front-row desk, his tone as

dismissive as his posture. "This election 'as no relevancy to my life. 'andle your

own mess in the background; I do not care."

Everyone else fidgeted uncomfortably, but Leoncio just grinned.

"Suit yourself. But what about your teammates?"

He glanced to the boys on either side of Rossi. The larger one—Joseph

Albright—spoke up, his voice tinged with resignation.

"…I'm in. Can't ignore a request from an Echevalria."

"Spoken like a true Albright." Leoncio smirked. "You know your place better

than that stray dog."

He'd known full well Albright had no choice in the matter. They both came

from old conservative clans, and their families were closely linked, working

together in any number of fields. Joseph Albright was in no position to do

anything that could jeopardize that relationship.

Leoncio stepped down from the podium, advancing slowly on the audience.

He stopped beside the third row.

"What about you, Mr. Andrews? Yours is an old family—will you happily lend

a hand or waste your time howling?"

There was a brief silence.

"…I'll help," Andrews said at last. "But only until the main round of the senior

leagues is done. From that point on, success or not, I'll pull out to focus on our

final match. My teammates with me."

He demonstrated cooperative intent while also drawing a clear line. Leoncio's

grin broadened; he clearly approved.

"Settled on baring your fangs, mm? That shows promise."

With that, he lost interest, returning his gaze to Rossi. Even the back of the

Ytallian's head looked annoyed.

"Two have shown their mettle. I ask you once more, Mr. Rossi. Will you tuck

your tail between your legs and cower off alone?"

The click of a tongue echoed. With his team on board, Rossi's objections

meant little. Joining in and helping the search end early would likely be more

productive. He knew that, and he could not let the taunt stand, so he spat,

"Fine! 'ave it your way. On one condition: Whatever supervisor you stick us with

—let it not be you."

"That is a shame," Leoncio muttered, moving back to the podium. "I'd have

loved to tame you."

A shiver ran down Rossi's spine, and he quietly stood up before moving to a

seat in the back row.

His recruitment complete, Leoncio left the classroom. In the hall, a figure

slipped up behind him. A pale hand upon his shoulder, whispers in his ear.

"An unexpected windfall, giving you an advantage. I imagine the chortles

never cease."

An elf's angular features and a sinister smile.

Yet, Leoncio's palm slammed into the wall, cracks spreading like a spiderweb.

"…Like picking up a trophy that's fallen from the shelf. What could be more

tedious?"

"Haaa-ha. Let's dig a little deeper, shall we? Why are you so cross? If

Rivermoore had come for you, we'd be the ones in trouble—is that what you're

thinking?"

"No," Leoncio snapped. "Even caught off guard in those circumstances, I

would not have allowed him to snatch my bone. Ordinarily, Godfrey would not

have, either."

Khiirgi considered this a moment, then clapped her hands together.

"Oh! I see… I get it! This is what you're thinking—Godfrey failed to escape the

ambush because his mind was on protecting everyone there. You included."

No sooner had this left her mouth than Leoncio's hand disappeared. Athame

drawn too fast for the eye to see, it was piercing her robe, pressed against her

shoulder.

"Watch your mouth, Alp. I'm not in the best mood, and you may find yourself

down an arm because of it."

"Go ahead," she purred, intoxicated. "What's an arm or two when I can see

that look on your face?"

Realizing his emotions were only giving her pleasure, Leoncio's expression

vanished, and his blade returned to its scabbard. Khiirgi let out a disconsolate

moan, then put her hand on his shoulder again.

"It may not sit right with you, but the fact that you won't let that take

precedence over electoral victory is laudable. Prevent Godfrey's restoration,

win the league, and that will secure Percy's victory. You're good with that?"

"It need not be said." His voice was calm again. "I'm placing you in charge of

our labyrinth efforts. For now, feel free to forget the league altogether. If

Godfrey's not in play, Gino and I can handle the other two."

His rivalry with Godfrey might have been a fixation, but if he could use this to

influence the election, he would not hesitate. These background schemes were

Leoncio Echevalria's bread and butter. If he could win before the match began,

that simply meant Godfrey had not been a worthy opponent. Tamping down

the emotions born from that idea, he focused on the issue at hand.

"If it's as easy as getting the bone first, splendid. If Rivermoore's resistance

makes that impossible, then run interference on the Watch—do your best to

keep it indirect. If we're too blatant about it, that could lose us votes and reflect

poorly on Percy's character."

"I'm well aware. We're simply recovering Godfrey's stolen bone on his behalf.

And it just so happens that'll result in it getting back to him a tad later."

Khiirgi's rationale was so transparent, it made him snort. As of yet, Godfrey's

backers hadn't wavered. The way he'd fought against Vanessa Aldiss was every

bit as imposing as his title; for now, the students were more inclined to criticize

Rivermoore for the cowardly backstabbing. But if Leoncio's side recovered the

bone first, that might change. That would suggest the Watch without Godfrey

lacked real leadership—and would prove the strength of the new council a vote

for Percival Whalley would ensure.

"The election's drawing to a close. I won't forbid you your enthusiasms, but

don't lose track of our priorities. Bring Percy back some good news, Khiirgi. No

matter how out of character that is."

There was an unprecedented weight behind this order. Khiirgi's lips curled like

a scimitar—and her figure vanished like mist.