Chapter 201: Reunion

"Thank the stars. If a new kid comes in, they’ll become the youngest. Orion will finally be a senior. He’ll have someone else to torment."

"Don’t say his name out loud!" another apprentice hissed in terror. "If he hears you, he’ll turn your spellbook into a biting mimic again! Just find the map!"

Up on the ceiling, a slow, wicked, incredibly sinister grin began to spread across Orion’s flawless, arrogant face.

His golden eyes practically lit up with the glowing, unholy thrill of pure mischief.

’A new kid?’ Orion’s internal monologue mused, a lazy, satisfied hum vibrating in his throat.

For the past three years, Orion had been the youngest apprentice in the Tower.

He was universally despised by his peers because he was a prodigy who never studied, never attended lectures, and yet consistently scored perfect marks on his examinations while actively sabotaging everyone else’s practical demonstrations.

The elders tried to discipline him by assigning him menial chores like scrubbing cauldrons, organizing scrolls, cleaning the owl cages.

Naturally, Orion never did the chores.

He simply used high-tier illusion magic to make the elders think he had done them, or he blackmailed the older apprentices into doing the work for him by threatening to transmute their hands into rubber.

But it was exhausting work, maintaining a reign of terror.

He was getting bored.

The prospect of a brand-new, freshly recruited, undoubtedly naive and starry-eyed junior apprentice arriving at the Tower was the greatest news he had heard in months.

’A Supreme-tier mana wave?’ Orion thought, his wicked grin widening, revealing a single, sharp canine tooth. ’The elders are so dramatic. It’s probably just some bookish, sweaty nerd from the Capital who accidentally swallowed a mana crystal and exploded a greenhouse. Some pathetic, trembling noble kid who thinks magic is all about reciting poetry and waving a stick.’

Orion shifted his weight, crossing his ankles in the air.

He pictured the impending arrival.

He imagined a stuttering, awkward kid with thick glasses and perfectly ironed robes, walking into the grand hall, terrified of the soaring architecture.

’Yes. Come to the Tower, little nerd,’ Orion cheered internally, his lazy, golden eyes sparkling with the promise of endless, entertaining bullying. ’I have so many cauldrons that need scrubbing. I need someone to test my new swamp-gas hex on. I need a minion to fetch my snacks from the kitchens. As the senior apprentice, it will be my solemn duty to "mentor" you. I am going to make your life a spectacular living hell.’

The confidence of the lazy prodigy was staggering.

Orion had absolutely no idea what kind of monster had actually generated the mana wave. He didn’t know about the dead behemoth.

He didn’t know about the Duck Service Squad.

He didn’t know that the "sweaty nerd" he was currently planning to bully was a six-year-old mafia boss who had routinely outsmarted assassins and reduced the terrifying Reaper of the North to a weeping, apologetic puddle.

Orion was eagerly anticipating the arrival of a victim.

He was, in reality, eagerly anticipating the arrival of the only entity in the known universe capable of out-pranking, out-manipulating, and utterly destroying his entire arrogant existence.

"Can’t wait," Orion whispered aloud, a soft, lazy, thoroughly wicked chuckle escaping his lips.

He reached out, grabbed the heavy grimoire floating beside his head, and unceremoniously dropped it right back over his face.

He closed his golden eyes, perfectly content.

The elders could run around and panic all they wanted. The Tower Master could deal with the politics. Orion had a nap to finish, and a glorious, bullying-filled future to dream about.

With a soft, contented sigh, the handsome devil of the East drifted back to sleep, suspended eighty feet in the air, blissfully unaware of the tiny, dark-haired storm that was slowly, inevitably heading his way.

***

The morning of the official registration was arguably the most stressful operation the Nacht Estate had faced since their arrival in the Imperial Capital.

Duke Kaelus von Nacht had successfully delayed the inevitable for a few days, but Imperial law was a tedious, unrelenting beast.

Every child of noble blood was legally required to have their mana core measured, classified, and registered by the Spire of Arcana before their seventh birthday.

If a child manifested an unregistered, volatile core and caused an "accident", say, inadvertently crushing an ancient anomaly, just as a purely hypothetical example, the Imperial Senate and the Holy Church possessed the legal authority to confiscate the child as a "ward of the state" for the public’s protection.

It was a blatant legal loophole designed to allow the Emperor to steal talented mages from provincial lords.

And Kaelus was unwilling to give the Capital a single millimeter of legal ground to stand on.

Seraphina was going to be registered. And she was going to be registered as the most pathetic, mundane magic user in the history of the continent.

But before they could depart for the Spire, a emotional, severely un-military reunion was taking place in the cobblestone driveway of the estate.

.

.

.

Because Kaelus had essentially locked down the estate and isolated Seraphina from the Vanguard to prevent her from wandering the dangerous Capital, she had not seen her favorite knights in days.

The moment she stepped out of the heavy oak doors, wearing a perfectly tailored, modest navy-blue dress designed to look unassuming, the three legendary commanders of the Black Bastion lost their remaining shreds of martial dignity.

"My Lady! Little Mushroom!" Sir Boris wailed, abandoning his post by the carriage.

The seven-foot-tall, giant bear dropped directly to his knees on the hard cobblestones, throwing his arms wide.

Seraphina broke into a bright, sunny sprint, launching herself into the giant’s chest. "Sir Boris! I missed you!"

"The light has at last returned to the fortress!" Sir Gallahan openly wept, standing next to Boris and dabbing his golden eyes with the pristine edge of his white cape. "We have been wandering in darkness! The barracks have been a tomb without your tactical insight, My Lady!"