Return of the Runebound Professor

Chapter 893: Believe It

Yoru was amused.

And that in itself was quite satisfying. She was still working on some emotions. Many were still largely new to her. In the time since she’d departed the Damned Plains to join up with Noah and his students, she had learned a great deal more than she had expected from all of them. As far as she’d been able to tell thus far, amusement — at least in the truest sense of it — seemed to benefit greatly from surprise. It was far harder to find joy in something when its coming had been foretold.

And Moonlit Prophecy had never let anything surprise her.

Yoru had found that she quite liked amusement. She’d felt it in the faintest sense before, in the way of smug superiority that came with the knowledge that she had won a fight well before it had ever begun, but that was a far more muted feeling. It might not have been wrong to say it was an entirely different one to this.

But, as far as Yoru was concerned, amusement was a luxury.

It wasn’t an emotion that she could afford to feel often.

Even with her new control over herself, there was only so much leeway she could allow. There was no longer a need for her to manipulate every single aspect of the lives around her. But a few pieces still had to fall in just the right way. A few people had to be one place and not another, and a few well placed words had to be said.

Noah was powerful. He grew at a terrifying rate in all the wrong ways. The rest of the group were strong in their own ways. Some far more so now than they had been just a few short months ago. But if there was one thing that Yoru had truly learned from Moonlit Prophecy’s control over her, it was one simple fact.

Power was circumstantial.

The greatest mage in all of Arbalest was nothing more than an above-average warrior in Obsidia. And even a group of mages like Noah’s students would be nothing if the Factions of Obsidia split them apart and chewed them to pieces. People were always vying for power. They were flames that strived to grow, and the best firewood was the potential of those who had to truly come into their strength. And Yoru could not allow that to happen.

If she had to burn a few pieces of firewood herself to accomplish that… then that was a price she was more than willing to pay.

But that didn’t mean she had to control every single aspect of existence. At the moment, there were only three things she knew for a fact. The first was that Zeth was strikingly competent. The False Herald — as the Truthseekers called him — would accomplish his task. The Prophet didn’t want to go calling attention to herself right now. She couldn’t just blast him to smithereens on the spot. There was even a pretty decent chance that Zeth would live. Yoru hadn’t looked too closely at any of the final outcomes of that particular incident. But, as she’d walked away, she’d caught just enough of a glimpse of the scene to bring a grin to her lips.

I don’t need Moonlit Prophecy to tell me that Zeth probably isn’t going to be much a fan of me. I wish I could stay and watch a bit longer… but there’s still more to do.

Yoru wove through the crowd. Noah’s song had made its way through quite the large part of the hall by now. People all around her were already speaking about it — most of them incredulous at the sheer idiocy and arrogance it took to draw so much attention to oneself.

“Some idiot is just showing off to try and get one of the Faction Heads to pick him,” someone in the crowd to Yoru’s left said. “He’s just hoping to get picked to be a dancing birdie. Ignore that idiot. It’s not worth spending time on. What I want to know—”

“Are you kidding?” Someone else said from just beside the first speaker. “Did you not feel the power in that Formation? That guy might be a show-off, but there was no way he was gunning for some cushy spot. He’s trying to get the attention of someone strong. He might actually be powerful enough to call for it.”

“What, you think that’s a Rank 7?” The first asked with a scoff. There were a number of other mages around them, all listening in to the conversation.

Yoru adjusted her course slightly to pass by them as they spoke.

“No way,” the other man replied. “But he could be high Rank 6. Don’t try to pretend like that Formation was weak. I didn’t need my Domain to feel how well-woven it was. He’s a Formation Master for sure. But I don’t even think that matters. You’re thinking about the wrong thing. The question isn’t just how strong he is. It’s what he’s aiming for. Why would anyone want to draw that kind of attention?”

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“Could just be an idiot,” a member of the crowd offered. “Power doesn’t always equate to intelligence. Some people might think that any kind of attention is good. He might even be right.”

“He could be,” Yoru said as she drew up to the group of mages. “But I recognize the outfit he’s wearing. The black mask… yeah. There’s no doubt about it. That’s Spider. This isn’t the first time he’s pulled off something like this. I’m pretty sure that was the one that killed the Sky Dragons.”

“Hold on,” the first man who had spoken said. His eyes widened slightly. “I think I’ve heard that name. Isn’t he the one that killed the fucking Strifeclaw?”

“Shit,” another man exclaimed, glancing around as if expecting to find Spider standing right behind him. “You’re right. I have heard about that guy. He was terrorizing the local landscape on his way up to the tournament. I heard he tore apart an entire town that didn’t obey his commands. Hell. I think he did half those things in one day. Is that really him?”

That story wasn’t one of mine.

Behind her mask, Yoru’s smile widened. It seemed her legend was already getting away from her. She slipped back into the crowd, leaving the mages to speak behind her. Tongues of their conversation were already worming their way to infect the conversations of many mages around them. It wouldn’t be long before Spider’s story had changed so badly that the original would be practically lost within it. There would be practically no truth left within the entire thing by the end of the night.

But that was fine.

After all, that was how legends were made.

***

Noah slipped through the crowds, moving as fast as he could without drawing too much attention to himself. It was a bit late for that. He’d already drawn about as much as he possibly could have. Last he remembered, there were at least five or six mages that had been pretty close to him by the time he’d hopped down from the table.

Not being able to use his domain was seriously annoying. He had no idea where any of them were. There was a decent chance he was rushing right toward someone. If Noah was entirely honest, he wasn’t even sure why he was trying to get away. It wasn’t like there had been a rule against playing music or standing on tables.

I think I just really don’t want to have to deal with these guys trying to figure out what I’m about and trying to recruit me… or something like that. Shit. I really should have taken a change of clothes from that Imbuer as a backup. I need a disguise for my disguise.

“You,” someone said, slipping out from the crowd and stepping before him. “Hold on just a second. Have—”

Noah turned and ducked past a man bearing a plate of food from the dining area, darting back off into the crowd before his pursuer could have a chance to finish whatever he’d been about to pitch. The idea of getting stuck in the equivalent of a magical Timeshare presentation sounded genuinely worse than dying.

And the moment I get pinned down, these buggers are going to surround me. Realistically, it’s probably an inevitability. I can’t dodge them forever. My damn outfit is too flashy. But the longer I can delay it, the better.

There was nothing to be done about his eventual fate. It would come for him no matter how he struggled, and it wouldn’t even come with some shitty pastries or a fancy voucher for a flight that could never be redeemed.

All he could do was keep moving and hope the people tailing after him would eventually get bored. But his annoyance wasn’t complete. Beneath it, a faint grin lingered on his features. No matter what happened from here… he’d gotten what he wanted.

***

The Masquerade was in full swing.

People milled about, flitting from one group to another in search of anything that could help them in the tournament while the powerful mages that had come to recruit for their groups hunted for their targets. Nearly everyone was in some kind of motion.

But, standing off to the side of a small table, just deep enough into the crowd to avoid standing out by leaning against the wall, there was one mage who wasn’t moving at all. Their features were covered by an owl mask and they had a fluffy white cape around their shoulders. Its cowl had been pulled up to conceal their head and hair, casting the mask in thick, magical shadow.

The mages beside them were all embroiled in an avid conversation.

And though the owl-masked mage in question hadn’t said a word, they were listening quite intently to what the others spoke of.

“You don’t believe it, do you?” One of the mages in the group asked. “There’s no way someone would be that crazy. Who would want that many eyes on them? It’s like painting a giant target on your back!”

“No. It’s true,” another said with a firm shake of her head. “I heard it myself. Didn’t see it, but hearing even a moment was enough. There was someone playing a big ass Formation right in the middle of the masquerade. They’re totally going to string him up.”

“Will they? It isn’t against the rules to be a nuisance. If anything… that might be the point,” a man mused. “I might go do that. Anyone want to start a brawl with me?”

Nobody responded.

The man let out a huff. “Boring. I hope you all get wiped before we meet in the ring. Not a single mote of life in any of you. Just keep clucking about rumors in the corner. It sounds like that violin guy was at least willing to step up and show his magic. The whole reason we’re here is to get recruited. Nobody wants a meek little mouse. And if they do… it’s to feed a snake.”

He turned on his heel and strode away. Then he paused after no more than a few steps. He turned back toward the others and cleared his throat.

“Er… what did you say that guy’s name was?”

Only then did the mage in the owl mask move.

“Spider,” she said, her voice clearly female. There was something strange about her tone. It wasn’t anything that the others in the group could have properly identified, but had any of them been asked to try, they likely would have placed it somewhere between relief, longing, and incredulous amusement. “His name is Spider.”

And then she was gone, slipping into the crowd before any of the other mages could even turn to see who had spoken.