Chapter 6- Authority

High Dome Room – The Academy of Velrenmar

Polished obsidian tiles gleamed under the soft, blue glow of resonance lanterns. Papers rustled. A low hum of wards buzzed underfoot — a constant, quiet reminder of the power laced into these halls.

Three figures stood beneath a slowly rotating illusion of the continent, projected high above — a shimmering map of all known lands.

This chamber, sealed to all but the Academy's Council, had seen centuries of decisions.

And today, it would see another.

Headmaster Verrian spoke first — his voice low, firm, weathered like stone worn by rain.

"The opening ceremonies are in place. Trials, tier announcements, invitation scrolls — all finalized. I expect no interference from the old guard this year."

Magister Troen Dey, of the gilded Ledgerhall, gave a soft chuckle, twirling a golden quill between his fingers.

——————————————————————————

⟢ System Access: Oversight Profiles – FACTIONS Trials ⟣

[Name]: Magister Troen Dey

[Affiliation]: Ledgerhall Dominion

[Title]: Neutral Emissary – Trials Council

[Current Role]: Overseer of Records & Transparency

[Authority Scope]:

▸ Holds veto rights during dispute resolution.

▸ Manages live record-keeping, tier validation, and official documentation.

▸ Authorized to audit trial infrastructure and resonance irregularities.

_________________________________________________________

"Interference?"

"You wound us, Verrian. We want the Trials to proceed… transparently. Reputation is our finest currency, after all."

Grandmistress Celaine, ever elegant, ever cold, didn't move. Light caught the lenses of her silver veil as she spoke — her voice smooth as frost on glass.

_________________________________________________________

⟢ System Access: Oversight Profiles – Academy Trials ⟣

[Name]: Grandmistress Celaine Varros

[Affiliation]: The Concord of Seven

[Title]: Neutral Emissary – Trials Council

[Current Role]: Overseer of Tradition & Safety

[Authority Scope]:

▸ Can elevate, delay, or disqualify trial participants.

▸ Has direct observational rights across Academy grounds.

▸ One of Concord Appointees — maintains ritual integrity and international neutrality.

_________________________________________________________

"And safely."

"It would be a shame if our guests — or our investors — were surprised by something… stirring beneath their feet."

Verrian's eyes narrowed.

"You're referring to the trace pulses?"

Troen smiled faintly, all silk and shadows.

"Ah. So you received them too."

"Little flares in the resonance energy. Curious things. Maybe old tech. Maybe something newer — buried and forgotten."

He leaned forward slightly.

"We could wait. Let it fade. Or… we could act. Quietly."

Celaine stepped in, calm and precise.

"With care."

"Our Concord enchanters traced three pulses beneath Wing Delta. That's near the old sublevels."

She paused.

"We're only requesting observational entry. Academic interest. No disruptions."

Verrian gave her a long look.

"You're asking for exploration rights. During the tournament."

Troen raised his brows, mock-offended.

"Exploration? That's such a strong word. Let's call it… extended security."

"You said you expect no disturbances. We're simply helping make sure that's true."

Celaine added, her tone cool and controlled:

"We can move beneath the noise of the Trials. Let your students dazzle the world… while we make sure the floor doesn't crack under them."

Verrian didn't answer at first.

Then:

"Fine. You'll submit the names of your observers. Four. No more."

"No deeper than the first sublayer. No contact with sealed doors. Full reports submitted nightly."

Troen gave a bright, innocent smile.

"Naturally. We wouldn't dream of secrecy."

Celaine's eyes glinted behind the veil.

"Truth is far more potent."

Verrian turned away from the map, his voice like iron drawn through ice.

"No."

Silence fell.

"This is still Academy soil. Not some ruin for your banners to dig through and sell."

"You won't gut this place like you do every other site you get your hands on."

Troen, unruffled, raised a brow.

"We seek to preserve, not plunder."

"That line sounds better in courtrooms than it does in my halls," Verrian shot back.

Celaine's voice glided in, smooth as ever.

"So… you fear we'll damage something?"

"No," Verrian said, eyes locked.

"I fear you'll brand it. Sell it. Twist it into some Concord-certified, Ledgerhall-approved product."

He gestured up at the glowing illusion of the continent.

"This place stands for knowledge before legacy. Not for ledgers. Not for your seals of discovery."

Troen chuckled under his breath.

"Pity. While your vaults gather dust, the world moves on."

"Dust I trust more than your vaults," Verrian said sharply.

A pause.

Then Troen's expression smoothed back into diplomacy.

"Of course. The Ledgerhall respects the Academy's internal jurisdiction."

"Our inquiry was purely academic, of course."

Verrian didn't look up from the papers on his desk.

"And I trust it will remain purely theoretical. The ruins are sealed. Let them stay that way."

Celaine folded her gloved hands.

"We asked out of courtesy, Headmaster. These anomalies tend to ripple far. We thought you'd want to be informed… before someone else stumbles into it."

Verrian's eyes lifted. Calm. Cold. Final.

"Then I suggest you make sure that someone else isn't wearing your colors."

A long silence followed.

Troen gave a respectful, shallow nod.

"Understood. You've made your position clear."

Celaine turned toward the door.

"As always… our patience runs deeper than most assume."

The chamber doors closed behind them.

Troen's smile faded.

"He won't budge. Not unless something forces his hand."

Celaine's tone was colder now, her posture still.

"Then we give him something that does."

She adjusted her gloves, almost absently.

"Leak the anomaly to an outside circle. Let the pressure come from the Board, not us."

Troen nodded slowly.

"And if something goes wrong in the lower levels…"

"It won't be our fault," Celaine finished.

"Just another oversight the Academy failed to contain."

They walked down the hall, their voices fading with each step.

_________________________________________________________

Moonfen Reach — Outer Fringe

Past Midnight

The forest was quiet.

Not peaceful—wrong quiet.

The kind that settles over ground that was recently disturbed.

Seren moved like smoke between the trees. His steps barely made a sound over the moss and wet soil. Moonlight filtered down through the tall canopy in broken slivers, painting the forest floor in silver streaks.

Ahead, a trail. Crushed ferns. Fresh footprints. Turned earth.

They had come back.

And not just Rhael. There were more now.

He crouched behind a slick ridge of stone, keeping low.

Five figures stood ahead in a loose semi-circle. Their heavy cloaks were half-covered with dirt and rain, but Seren caught the faint outlines of faction sigils beneath their gear. Two were Northcrest. One had Silverquill markings. The other two—he didn't recognize.

Not students.

Not locals.

A soft hum echoed from something embedded in the stone wall ahead—half-buried, glowing faint blue.

It looked like a scanner. Or maybe a resonance anchor.

Not academy tech. Sleek. Advanced. Too clean.

Seren's hand tightened around the branch beside him.

They're scanning for something underground… mapping it.

One of them spoke, but Seren couldn't make out much. Just fragments:

"…signal variance… deeper than expected… interference spike near the old waterline…"

Then the ground buzzed. Just a ripple—but enough to make nearby leaves shake and a few birds scatter.

One of the figures glanced back, clearly nervous.

The Silverquill agent tapped her comm bead.

"Pull back. The scan tripped something. We'll return at dusk."

Just like that, they packed up. Quiet. Efficient.

When they were gone, Seren stepped out.

He crouched where they'd stood, examining the small glowing anchor. It was off now, but…

This wasn't just scouting.

They're down here for something serious.

He looked toward the falls in the distance. Mist curled at their base, thick and faintly glowing.

Later.

Seren knelt beneath a massive split tree root, just outside another ridge.

Arc-lanterns flickered along the perimeter of a shallow dig site, casting light over crates, scanners, and weird gear he couldn't name. There were at least nine people moving around—technicians, guards, and a few in armored coats lined with faction sigils.

Northcrest. Stonehelm. Silverquill. All three.

His fingers gripped the root harder.

"No chance I'm walking into that."

He watched them for a few more seconds.

One of the guards suddenly turned. Seren froze.

Not even a breath.

The man looked around, then walked off. Nothing.

Seren let out a slow breath and backed away from the ridge, boots silent over the moss.

"Let them dig. If something's buried down there, they'll be the first to hit it.

I'll find my own way in."

He slid back beneath the trees, pace quick and quiet.

"I should report this to the Headmaster…" He'd want to know what's going on out here.

But something felt off.

He scanned the area again—no patrols. No ward lines. No skywatch glyphs humming overhead.

"Why isn't there anyone from the Academy here?"

An active dig site, especially this deep into Moonfen, should've had at least two Internal Affairs guards and a Veil-Watcher on standby.

"So either someone pulled the guards off quietly… or someone paid to have them look the other way."

He clenched his jaw.

"I'm not the only one sneaking around tonight."

Seren turned, pulling his cloak tighter as he melted back into the trees.

Enough for tonight. He'd seen more than he was supposed to.

He kept low, boots brushing over moss and root — no noise, no trace. The forest was still uneasy. Every sound pressed too loud, too sharp.

He was nearly out of the ridge's shadow when—

A voice. Behind him.

Quiet. Calm. Close.

"You breathe like someone preparing to run."

He froze mid-step.

No breath behind him. No footsteps.

Just silence.

The kind that waited.

Seren's hand hovered near his side — not drawing, not yet.

A beat passed. Two.

Then the voice came again, softer now. Almost curious.

"Why are you really here?