Saving the school would have been easier as a cafeteria worker

Chapter 99

Cal racked his brain, trying to figure out if this was the dumbest situation he'd ever been put into. A clear answer did not jump to mind, which was a damning indictment of his life thus far.

He settled on it being in the top five.

"Callum," the crazy administrator said. "It seems you're drifting."

There was a reason for that. He kept thinking about how to get out of this and was, frankly, getting annoyed at how uncooperative his brain was being. It kept chiming in with things like how much easier it would be to investigate Evergreen's role in the Academy, the cover it would give him if he were caught snooping again, and what she'd do if he suddenly backtracked.

"There's a lot on my mind," Cal admitted, forcing himself to stay in the chair.

How many times did he have to be given fake relatives until it stopped being weird? More than three, apparently.

"I'm certain there is," Evergreen said, nodding in a stern but oddly encouraging manner. "However, I'd ask you to stay focused. To put it bluntly, your development as a growth mage is a travesty."

Maybe if Cal had known it was going to be measured, he would have put more effort into it. His only goal had been to tend to his small planter in the cabin.

The room shifted—vines hanging from the ceiling writhing. The chair beneath him groaned as the wood grew agitated.

Moments like these made her connection to Alice clear.

"No," she continued, her tone turning darker. "It's an affront to our ancestors. Those who passed on their legacy expect us to do so in turn. Your lack of tutelage is beyond the pale. Claire is fortunate that I have duties to attend to here. Otherwise, I would make my displeasure known to her personally. As it stands, I must satiate myself with a letter detailing her failings."

If knowing eight fire manifestations was enough to prove his lack of affinity, then knowing one growth manifestation should have disproven his alleged affinity.

But Evergreen had already made her decision. He was a true growth mage, and anything that didn't support that theory was mitigated, if not outright disregarded. It was confirmation bias in its simplest form.

"Can we maybe not do that?" Cal asked, wanting to avoid bringing his fake parents into the mix.

He could already hear Mask howling with laughter after they learned of this. Albert would be more muted, but the man would share his colleague's humor.

Oracle, on the other hand, would not, and Cal found some solace in that.

"I suppose," Evergreen said tersely, tapping her nails along the surface of her desk as the surrounding foliage relaxed.

Cal ran a hand through his hair, relieved he'd convinced her against that course of action.

"That was another flagrant tell," Evergreen said, emerald eyes locking onto his wrist. "Would it be safe to assume you're ignorant of what you wear on your wrist?"

He traced her gaze, finding it square on his new weapon. He lowered the hand to his lap, playing with the twine.

"Probably," Cal said, curious about what she knew of it. "I found it on a dead person."

While he'd taken it from Craven moments before Rolland bisected the man, Cal had considered the other growth mage dead the moment he laid eyes on him.

"The Tribesman," Evergreen correctly deduced, holding her palm out. "May I?"

Not seeing the harm, Cal had the twine turn rigid before tossing it toward her like a ring. She caught it gracefully, letting it hang off her fingers as she examined it with a budding frown.

"You've yet to bound it," she said, placing it on the desk. "I would advise you to do so. Threads of the Forest are coveted possessions for growth mages."

Her twig leaped to her grasp, and the wood bent before unraveling into familiar threads.

"They're gifts passed down from the Age of Gods," she said reverently, inspecting her own. "Unlike relics, they don't come from the gods themselves but were born from magic—back when it was pure of form and not of the corruption today."

Cal retrieved his, running his magic through it. He hadn't considered bonding with it back when he believed it was just a peculiar strand of plant. Their alleged origins read as embellished to him, either by time or by braggart nobles. That wasn't to say he dismissed them completely.

"When you bond it," Cal started, eyeing hers, "does it work as a focus?"

It would explain why she and Craven didn't appear to have one, questionable as the latter man's sanity was.

Evergreen sneered, and the room tensed as the plants expressed her discontent. She let out a breath, calming them.

"Essentially, yes," she said with a pained expression. "Although many of our blood find that comparison distasteful. Focuses are created with the remains of beasts and are a bastardization of Threads of the Forest."

Cal did nothing but stare deadpan at her. It took a solid minute for his meaning to get across, and when it did, she didn't have the decency to look flustered.

"Apologies," she said unconvincingly. "I wasn't aware it was a delicate subject."

His reaction was more out of obligation than offense.

It was somewhat funny to him that she still believed him a bastard rather than the Ardere's legitimate child. Of course, the alternative would have people question why they hid their true-born son from noble society for nearly two decades.

"I'll bind it then," Cal decided, earning a satisfied smile from the woman.

The process wasn't complex, and with his intent, it would likely be completed before the week was up. He had the twine unwind, crawling up his forearm and forming a loose net. The twine was pulled tighter, pressing into his skin. It wasn't comfortable, but that was the point.

Cal coated it with his magic, impressing his will into it.

All living things could purge a certain amount of corruption. That wasn't news to him. However, the concept of him being able to direct its absorption of ambient magic and use it for his own ends was.

He couldn't help but recall the notes he'd read in the Waste. Millie had been comparing the scrubbers used to purge corruption in traditional magical engineering designs to plants of some kind.

Was this what she had been referring to?

Cal had never bonded anything alive before, and he wondered what would happen if he tried it on a mundane fruit. Common sense shooed him away from that idea.

"That would be one deficit accounted for," Evergreen said, her mood souring again. Her eyes traveled to her bookshelf, and she inspected it for a few minutes before a vine crept toward it, plucking a thick volume. "This shall aid in the others."

The vine swung over, holding the book out to him. He grabbed it by the spine, rubbing a thumb over the bumpy, dark brown binding. It was covered in knotted roots, reminiscent of the final panel on the door outside. He was about to take a peek at its contents when Evergreen's sharp voice preempted him.

"Do not," she instructed. Her twig flipped in her hand, pointing at the book. "Lay it on the desk and observe closely."

He did so, and she tapped the end of a root with her instrument. She injected it with a sliver of magic, and he tracked it as it looped around the cover, passing from root to root before fizzling out.

The book lurched, seeming to burp as it flipped open, landing on a random page.

"A safeguard," she said, leaning back into her chair. "Attempts to brute‑force it, or threading the magic incorrectly, release a fungus that will devour the pages in short order."

Cal thought that was paranoid, but opted to peer at the pages rather than give voice to that criticism. The text was…flowery. Literally and figuratively. Certain words sprang from the page, formed from petals. The sentences dragged on, weaving ornate vocabulary into dramatic statements. It may have been poetic, but Cal was not the right audience to appreciate that.

The diagrams were much easier to decipher for his overburdened mind.

"I will try not to turn it into pulp," he offered. "Assuming you mean for me to borrow it."

He couldn't think of another reason why she would present him with a book of manifestations, along with teaching him how to access it. His fingertips skimmed the fore‑edge of the book, gauging the number of pages.

"You will do more than borrow," Evergreen ordered, her tone brokering no argument. "I will leave the choice to you, but by next class, I expect either one advanced, three intermediate, or five basic manifestations."

Cal was good, but that was a significant amount of time he'd have to invest for what he believed to be paltry returns. Still, in a book this size, there may be something worth learning. Another trick or two in his repertoire certainly wouldn't hurt.

"That's going to ruin my schedule," he countered, thinking about how most of tomorrow would be spent in meaningless lectures. "Class-wise, that is."

Evergreen pursed her lips, a look of mild censure on her face.

"I shall have the work required of you summarized and delivered," she said, seeming to find a compromise. "It will need to be completed, but your physical attendance may be pardoned in the short term."

Even without knowing what "short-term" meant, it seemed like it would be a net loss of time for him, and between everything else he was involved with, Cal was leery of adding more commitments.

The Federation agent scooted forward all the same, leafing through the options. It didn't sound like she was expecting mastery. He could focus on one and give the bare minimum of effort to the rest.

There should be enough low-hanging fruit to make it work, and his theory was confirmed a moment later when he came across a manifestation whose sole purpose was to manipulate the branches of trees. At least, that's what he thought it did. The language used made things harder than they needed to be.

Cal mentally marked that one before continuing through the book. His pace was somewhere between brisk and casual. As he was only judging potential difficulty at this point, many candidates were summarily discounted with a glance.

Flipping through the pages, his rhythm was broken as his brain caught up with him, and he turned to the previous page.

He couldn't say exactly what had caught his attention, only that he knew further investigation was warranted. Reading more carefully, he didn't know whether to pat himself on the back for signaling out the manifestation or slap himself for never having thought of it himself.

"Do you mind showing this one?" he asked, turning the book around so that she could see the page more clearly. "I'm more of a visual learner."

Cal would propose that anyone trying to read this would be.

Evergreen frowned slightly, evidently unenthused by his choice.

"There's little to see visually," she stated in a dismissive tone. "And I don't have the samples to correct that. The manifestation would also be of dubious use to you. I suggest you prioritize those that support battlefield control—either by restraining your opponents or limiting the space they can maneuver in. That approach would pair well with your existing skill set, letting you better… how did you phrase it? Ah, yes. Hit them, really, really hard."

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She was mostly correct. It wasn't the flashiest of manifestations, and he couldn't conceive a use for it in combat. Her recommendations were also well-grounded.

Unfortunately for her, none of that mattered to him. Knowing she would likely be stubborn about this, Cal devised a radical strategy.

"Pretty please?" he asked, blinking widely and tilting his head.

Strangely, he couldn't help but think Mia would have been way better at the delivery, despite her general nonchalance.

Evergreen's even stare didn't betray her thoughts, and just when he thought they were going to go for round two, she waved a finger, prompting vines to start their work. They opened drawers, rifling through their contents. More than once, they pulled out a box before returning it.

After some time, two wooden cases were set on the desk, each smaller than his hand. Evergreen reached for one, undoing its simple latch to reveal a cluster of fingernail‑sized seeds with bright orange shells.

"Beatus Somnium," she said, carefully removing one from the container before proceeding to the box. "And Castellum Testa."

The second seed resembled a coconut but was the size of a marble. Palming both, her vines brought over a pair of clay planters. They appeared similar at a glance, but the right had a peculiar odor, suggesting a difference in their soil content.

She poked holes in each with her finger, planting them separately and at different depths. Her focus rested against one of the pot's rim, and she spoke as bits of magic were gathered.

"Understand that I must use several other manifestations to even get to the point of showing the one you wish."

Cal nodded, expecting as much.

Evergreen's magic moved smoothly, seeping into the soil. He observed it closely, attempting to record its effects. She tapped the second planter in quick succession, sending a similar string of magic into it, and then waited.

A thin orange stem broke from the dirt. It grew quickly but had no rigidity, flopping around like a wet noodle. Once it reached the length of his arm, the erratic movements stopped, and it sat spilled on the table. The second plant was less eccentric. One normal-enough-looking leaf broke free before being joined by another. The two grew, forming a leafy bowl. After winding around each other tightly, the leaves grew a shade darker and then a flower sprouted from its top. It was tiny, with three light pink petals curved backward."

Both plants appeared to be dormant, and without a reference for how long they normally took to grow, Cal didn't know if he should be impressed or not.

"Beatus Somnium produces hallucinogens, and its pollen carries that effect," she informed clinically, pointing at the first plant. "I would advise against inhaling them."

Should he be concerned that she kept that in her office? It felt like he should be.

Evergreen tapped the plant directly this time, and he heard a hiss. The thin stem inflated, blowing up like a long balloon. It stood straight, seeming to reach capacity. However, the hissing didn't stop, and he brought his arm up defensively as the plant popped.

Pollen blew outwards, buffeting against his shell. He fed magic into the defensive barrier, heating it enough to burn away anything that made contact with him. Not all of it went his way, and he watched as portions of it dusted the pink flower.

"Ordinarily, cross-pollination would be impossible between these two breeds," Evergreen said, as a small circle came to life over the second plant. He suspected it was for his benefit. "The resulting progeny will suffice for demonstration purposes but is unlikely to be viable."

The pale green circle oscillated slowly, lines of magic weaving across its surface. They matched the diagram he'd seen, and he traced them with his mind for replication later. He felt a final shift in the magic, and then it pulsed, releasing a ray of light that hit the plant before fading with the circle.

"As I stated previously," Evergreen said, resting back into her chair. "It is lacking in the visual department."

True enough, but he could feel minute changes in the plant itself. It was not easy, and the nature of it being a living thing further complicated things. He studied it in silence until she spoke up again.

"It should be ready now," she said as the plant seemed to settle. "If you would, break it open. Allowed to grow naturally and to full maturity, Castellum Testa are effectively impervious. This specimen is far from that, but you're better suited than I to breach it."

Cal didn't think much of it, standing up to grab at it with both hands. Singeing it with his palms to avoid the residual pollen, he pressed against it with augmented fingers. The bowl creaked but successfully resisted his efforts.

He lifted it over his head, then swung it down, driving his knee up to meet it. It cracked, breaking into two even pieces against his leg. He brought them back to the desk, picking one side at random and shucking away the leafy exterior to better get at its insides.

Boldly sticking his fingers in, he quickly surmised why she left the task to him. The interior was sticky and hairy, somehow being more unpleasant than digging through beast carcasses. With practiced dissociation, he rummaged through it, ripping his prize free.

He held his palm up, and there, matted with stringy hairs, sat a miniature coconut. It was identical to the ones Evergreen presented earlier aside from one key characteristic. Instead of being brown, it was a bright orange.

"Success in failure," Evergreen determined with her eyes on the seed. "I forcibly passed the color trait from the donor plant while attempting to ensure all others descended from the recipient."

The growth mage retrieved one of the original seeds from her box, displaying it between two fingers.

"Squeeze yours," she said, pinching hers in demonstration.

He followed her lead, and the orange seeds splattered with little resistance.

"And thus," she said somewhat dramatically, with a wave of her free hand. "Failure. The manifestation is able to reliably pass down a specific trait, but despite my efforts, there is no such guarantee with the others. It's best used between plants of the same or similar species. However, my collection is diverse by design, and there are no strong candidates to crossbreed. While I could have used those of the same species, the change would not have been as apparent."

Cal drew his fingers apart, feeling the gooey remains. His mind went back to the early days, back when he was scrounging for a good meal. Finding any spices in the Waste had been a near miracle, and he worked with what he had.

How many days had he spent staring at that planter, willing his few treasures to not die? Many. Too many. And in the end, they still hadn't been exactly what he wanted. He'd tried selectively breeding them, but his results were mixed.

Only after making contact with Prodigy was he afforded tastes vaguely reminiscent of a previous life. To this day, he couldn't be sure if they were exactly right.

Had he this magic back then…

Cal burned the remains of the seed off of him. It wasn't worth going down that path. What lay before him mattered more.

"Again," he said firmly, gaze affixed to a fist he'd made on reflex. "We're doing that again, and we're not leaving until I learn it."

Some might have labeled that an unreasonable request. Cal would deny it on both counts. It was neither unreasonable nor a request.

Cal left Evergreen's office with conflicting emotions. He hadn't planned on spending so much time in there, and he certainly hadn't planned on showing anything close to vulnerability. He didn't know what the crazy administrator thought of it or if she even realized it had occurred.

Whatever the case, it was hard to be upset while walking away with a breadth of new and old possibilities at his fingertips. To say he'd mastered the new manifestation in a single sitting would be a stretch. What he could say is that his magic no longer caused the subjected plants to explode.

Apparently, that was a very common problem to have, and Evergreen was inordinately pleased with his progress. It definitely fed into her delusions, and that led him to the next problem.

Alice.

Evergreen presumed she was in the dark and left the decision of whether to inform her up to him. He could say nothing, but that wasn't without risk.

There was enough to fear already. He would not add Alice's learning of their meetings to the list.

Cal had come to one solid, immutable conclusion.

He was not going to lie to her—not about this. There would be no half‑truths or misdirections either. He would unequivocally deny any parentage by Claire. He wasn't going to further complicate Alice's relationship with her parents.

That was his line, and it would not be crossed.

"Great resolve," he murmured to himself in a self-deprecating manner. "Now you just have to convince her that her aunt is crazy."

Cal would feel considerably less bad about that. Evergreen wasn't acting rationally, and he could poke at several flaws in her argument. He'd just have to keep any Federation talk out of the equation.

He walked out of the tower, passing students on his way. Lunch had been missed, but Evergreen ensured he was out in time to make it to his second class of the day, Economics.

The will to show up eroded with each step he took.

Even so, he ended up on the path to it, and as he neared the building, he nearly tripped over his own feet.

Cal's eyes narrowed, staring at an empty spot of wall with confusion and suspicion. Perhaps because of the funk he was in, he'd noticed it far too late.

Questions… he had questions.

He wouldn't get answers standing here like an idiot, and he sent a pointed look to the wall before striding off. Using his mental map of campus, he navigated past the busier paths to a less populated area of campus.

There was a small plaza here, out of the way but well-maintained. No weeds poked up between the pavers, and the centerpiece—a round fountain—held clear water that spilled from the beaks of carved stone birds.

A few benches were situated for seating, but Cal didn't bother with them, decisively turning to face a wide-open path.

"I'm going to need one of you to speak up," he said dryly, wondering if that pollen had gotten to him. "Because I can't see why you'd be together."

The air shimmered, revealing two figures. The one dressed in a tailored Academy uniform spoke up first.

"I wanted to seek your counsel," Sebby said. His eyes darted to the side, and hesitation entered his voice. "And was led to believe this one was of some relation to you."

Olivia, or Emily, given the friendly smile on her face, stood there. She wore a simple, if nice, beige blouse and a coarse burgundy skirt that fell to her knees. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and she rocked lightly on her heels, her excitement easy to see.

There was something off about it. Maybe it was the way her eyes dimmed at times or the tightness of her smile, but Cal knew neither of them wanted to see, let alone speak to, each other right now.

Yet she was here, on campus, meeting him out of the blue.

He and Olivia had parted on shaky terms. Had their brief separation been enough to convince her of the truth? That the Federation she was raised to believe in had rot that needed cutting.

"We have history," Cal confirmed, keeping emotion out of his voice. "What's up with you, Sebby? Is something wrong?"

He didn't know what Olivia wanted. It could be that she was anxious for an update. In that case, he could tell her about the developments with Evergreen, the fraud Mia had helped uncover relating to the Beast Husbandry club, and the possibility of using the affinity‑revealing stone of Inis to find the hidden mind mage.

But before delving into any of that, Sebby looked troubled.

The third prince conveyed a question with his eyes, and Cal waved a hand.

"Pretend she isn't here," Cal said, attempting to do the same. "She's good at keeping secrets."

He saw it. The flash of frustration on her face. It was gone in an instant, but he saw it.

Sebby did not.

"It's…" the boy trailed off, indecision marring his face. "Related to her current employer, should that change your opinion?"

Cal's eyes turned to the sky, asking himself what Mia did this time. He let the sight buy him a few seconds of peace before returning to the earth and reality.

"If you want this to stay between us, then her employer," Cal said, taking extra care not to put too much emphasis on the word, "won't be informed. I'll stake my name on that."

Emily blinked, and the eyes of Olivia emerged. They bore into him, challenging the veracity of his claims. Cal met them with little fanfare, silent determination doing the talking for him.

"That's—" Sebby swallowed his words, shoulders dropping. His chin dipped as well, but he caught that, correcting his posture before continuing to speak. "I erred," he said too swiftly for Cal's liking. "Apologies, I must attend to another matter."

The little prince's feet moved fast in a bid to escape, but it was a retreat destined for disappointment.

"Not so fast, mister," Cal said, blurring behind the prince and lifting him by the collar. "I've dodged too many uncomfortable conversations to miss someone trying the same."

It was one thing if the prince really didn't want to talk about it, but Cal's intuition said otherwise. He realized the implications of that a second later, dropping the boy whose legs had begun to flail.

Sebby landed on his knees, but he didn't stay there, scrambling to his feet. The boy's eyes flicked to Emily, frowning at her stony face.

"Spill it," Cal said, covering for the agent. "And don't think I'll let you weasel out of it."

The prince hesitated still, but under Cal's firm stare, resistance crumbled.

"It's nothing of great importance," Sebby said in a defeatist tone. "It's daft, truly."

Cal didn't reply, a somber expression on his face. Sebby's eyes danced around the plaza, second-guessing again. His vision landed on Emily again, and he schooled his expression before turning back to Cal.

"Her employer," Sebby said, distancing himself verbally from the girl in question. "Insisted on joining me for lunch today. I found the timing…troubling, and the experience uncomfortable. Understand that we are, in effect, strangers. I've been warned of the dangers. By Father and others. Yet—"

The prince's voice broke, revealing the child grasping for answers underneath.

"Yet I do not know. I simply do not know."

Sebby's breathing grew heavy, a faint sheen gathering in his eyes before he blinked it away. His feet began to fidget, his shoulders to slouch.

There were walls Cal had erected in his head. He laid them brick by brick, spreading mortar as he went. They were meant to protect him, and as he looked upon the lost child, he grabbed a hammer.

Cal lifted the kid by his armpits, foisting him onto the fountain's basin before he could protest. He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, meeting him at eye level.

"Listen up, kid," he said gently, his words nearly drowned out by the dribbling of water. "It's not stupid, silly, or whatever fancy word you might use to hide what you're feeling."

He took a breath for himself, not wanting to screw this up.

"If it's real to you, it's real," Cal said, letting those words digest for a moment. "Now, I want you to think back to that time we made lemon tarts. Do you remember why we did it?"

Sebby's brow knitted together in recollection, his eyes growing distant for a moment as he recalled the memory.

"You said you were making amends," Sebby said, confidence entering his voice. "That no one was at fault, but that someone had to take the first step. I thought it foolish."

Cal was surprised by the quick answer, and the unnecessary commentary that followed. That day seemed a lifetime ago. Alice had questioned him about his mother, and he'd lost his cool, upsetting the girl.

Lemon tart was the only way he knew how to say sorry.

"That's right," Cal said, a sad smile on his face. "I can't be certain, but I think that's what your sister is doing."

Cal had swung, opening a hole in the wall.

"I know it's taken a while," Cal continued, a strange peace falling over him. "And that you might be scared. That's okay."

Ancestors knew he wasn't alone in that.

"It's a part of life, and no special hat will save you from it. I can't tell you what to do or who to trust. What I can tell you is that I don't think she's a bad person at heart."

Mischievous for certain, but no worse than Cal. There was another similarity they shared, and Cal leaned in, his voice gaining a conspiratorial edge.

"Between you and me, she probably has no idea what she's doing. You might need to help her out."

Cal's smile grew wry at the recollection of the book she'd been carrying around. He doubted the author of it was qualified to help this particular family.

The time for contemplation was cut short, interrupted by the chiming of the clock tower.

Sebby startled and, if it weren't for Cal's hand, might have fallen into the fountain.

"I—I'm late," the boy rushed out, hopping down onto the pavers. "My class, my class is far away."

With that flustered delivery, the prince ran off, fleeing into parts unknown. Cal watched his back, considering his own advice.

The clearing of a throat brought him back to the present.

Olivia, expressionless, said nothing, reaching into her sleeve. She pulled out an envelope, flipping it so he could see the wax seal.

A red spiderweb stared back