Saving the school would have been easier as a cafeteria worker

Chapter 100

Cal shaped his magic carefully, reducing its footprint to the best of his ability. He let it out into the world, hoping no one would notice its transparent presence.

"We can talk now," he said after the sound barrier took hold. "What happened?"

He resisted the urge to snatch the letter out of her hands. It wouldn't help their strained dynamic.

"I woke to find it on my bed pillow," she explained, keeping her face blank. "The wards over my sleeping quarters were intact. I must presume they were bypassed and have requested a new configuration from the grocer."

Cal had warned a certain spider against putting a note in his dorm, and it seemed she took that as permission to violate Olivia's space instead.

For the moment, their personal issues faded.

"You alright?" he asked, concern creeping into his voice.

Olivia decided then to show emotion. Her eyebrows pinched together, and her chin tilted downward, glowering at him.

"No issues to report," she said, the words slipping off her tongue with the practice of a career soldier. "I rotate sleeping in the bathroom, the closet, and the ceiling. The bed is also rigged to explode if disturbed. They were fortunate to only drop the letter."

That was… something.

He couldn't exactly call it paranoid, but it also felt a step beyond prudent. Would explosives even be effective? He supposed that it depended on what she was using.

Cal decided that the question was better left unasked.

"Try not to plant explosives in residential areas," Cal said, seeing the way her eyes narrowed. "And for the record, I never blew up a neighborhood."

That was more because he'd never been deployed to one, but it still counted.

"I'll take that under advisement," she said in a manner that suggested she would not. "After receiving it, I met with some friends before traveling to campus."

The captain and her squad were informed before him, then. He didn't disagree with that order of operations; it would have been easier to access them in the city.

"I was then diverted," she continued, her tone completely flat, "by the prin—"

"Prince," Cal finished for her.

Yes, there was a hole in the wall he'd built for himself. However, he enjoyed the way her glare deepened. Better she be frustrated with him than dwell on how her throat might've been slit in the night.

Well, that and he still wasn't happy with her.

"Callum," she grunted. "Not five minutes ago you—"

Her lips moved, but no sound escaped them. It was not an isolated instance—the pattering of water and rustling of trees lost their voices as well. A slight tweak to his manifestation had left them deaf to the world.

Olivia's fingers curled, crumpling the letter. Her eyes flicked to it, and she immediately loosened her grip. A slight look of reproach crossed her face before she turned back to him, all but tapping her foot in impatience.

Cal twisted the magic again, allowing the world to return.

"Are you done exercising your childishness?" she asked.

He quirked his head, pointing himself in question, before turning the finger to her.

"Me or you?"

Olivia released a shallow breath, holding the crinkled letter toward him.

"I already read it," she said, in spite of the unbroken wax seal.

Cal stared at the peace offering, hesitating for a moment before accepting it. Tearing it open, his eyes scanned its contents. It didn't take long, the note being short and to the point.

"Right," he said as he ignited the page. "I'm like, ninety percent sure this is a trap."

Olivia blinked owlishly at him, lips parting but falling short of replying.

"The location is the biggest red flag," he stated, speaking to himself apparently. "The Colosseum is on the outskirts of the city and warded to the hells. If I wanted to ambush someone without waking everyone up, that's where I would do it."

Cal had only been there once, during his trip with Ryan, Gregor, Benny, and Sebby. He hadn't given it a full inspection back then, but from what he did see, he knew it would make an excellent cage.

"I'm in agreement," Olivia said with a palpable sense of relief. "The short notice adds to it. Nightfall leaves limited time for preparation."

They were on the same page. That was nice, but unfortunately, it would not last. They both began to speak, attempting to overpower each other's voices.

"Which is why you should attend."

"Which is why I should go."

A stint of silence followed, no magic required. Cal's head reared back in surprise, having difficulty believing what he heard. Olivia cringed, eyes darting to the side for a moment.

"I—"

"You—"

Their voices clashed again. Neither fought for dominance, resulting in another awkward lull. Cal waved her to continue, not wanting to endure a second longer of this.

"I was the most vocal opponent to any proposed meeting with this group," she said, outlining the reason for his skepticism. "My thoughts of them have not changed. They're a blight, and not to be trusted."

Amazingly, they were still on the same page. Mostly, at least.

"That said, I've had time to consider things further," she said with a touch of self-reflection. "I acknowledge that it represents a unique opportunity. It's our best chance at gathering intelligence on the group itself and, potentially, eliminating a portion of them."

Olivia had gone from 'let's avoid them' to 'burn them all' very quickly.

"To be clear," Cal said tentatively. "You are A-okay with me going in with a paper-thin cover and going all punchy when things go wrong."

He probably should have said 'if' things went wrong.

"Now you admit your disguise is horrible," Olivia grumbled in dissatisfaction, crossing her arms.

Cal rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"I said cover, not disguise. You're just jealous I make the shroud work," he replied with a dose of criticism. "Did you pick it up from dry cleaning?"

Otherwise known as Lennard.

"There was a complication," she admitted, her voice turning darker. "A result of your matchmaking efforts."

Matchmaking?

Oh, right, the Justiciar.

Cal's eyes swept the tree line, checking for hidden hostiles. Seeing that they weren't surrounded and that she hadn't led with that topic, he judged it wasn't anything pressing. They were probably out doing routine spy stuff together, and Olivia was taking the chance to vent her annoyance at him by making him worry over nothing.

In that case, there was really only one appropriate response.

"Damnit," he cursed, smacking a fist into his open palm. His brow creased, and he put on a thinking face before snapping his fingers in an epiphany. "Don't worry. I won't let you be left behind. How do you feel about going out with an Adjunctor?"

Clearly, Olivia was jealous of her new friend going out on dates. As a supportive colleague, it was only right to hook her up with the most eligible bachelor he knew of. There may have been a better option, but he wasn't going to do Benny bad like that.

"First of all, you're not funny." He begged to differ. "Second of all, do you mean the Adjunctor you failed to brief me on? That Adjunctor?"

Uh… hadn't he?

"What better way for you to learn of it than from the man himself over a candlelit dinner?" he asked with a shameless smile.

His counter was not received with the gratitude it deserved.

"You're lucky I've diversified my sources," Olivia said somewhat smugly. "I know about Basem."

Was he lucky? It didn't feel like it.

Not enjoying being on the back foot, Cal counterattacked with nonsense.

"What about a dead-on-his-feet professor instead?"

He actually liked that idea better. Wyatt was a project that could keep her occupied and off Cal's back.

"Do you mean Professor Wyatt?" Olivia asked in a dull tone. "I must remind you that one of us is a professional."

She phrased it ambiguously, leaving it unclear whether she meant Cal or Wyatt.

"Speaking of the man," she continued, maintaining the same flat cadence. "Your—my employer wanted to inform you that class is cancelled. She claims that the professor said something about testing tracks before running off to the city."

Testing tracks? Testing tracks for what? Did his experiments prove a theory or something?

Cal could only hope he'd not be put on the spot about it later.

"Did she say anything else?" he questioned, attempting to hide his interest.

He did not cross his fingers, but he really wanted to. There were plenty of things he was willing to do to get on Olivia's nerves. Letting her know he was using Prodigy's notes in a class was not one of them.

"Should she have?" Oliva responded sharply, sensing blood in the water.

Cal whistled innocently, finding the fountain very interesting.

"I need to set my expectations," Olivia said, exhaustion heavy in her voice. She closed her eyes for a spell before opening them with a charged look. "Did you assault a high-ranking member of the nobility?"

Recently?

He shook his head.

"Did you destroy buildings on campus?"

The plural felt a tad personal, but he shook his head again.

"Did you steal an imperial relic?"

Apart from the one in his pocket, no.

After his third denial, he expected a degree of relief from her. Instead, her eyes turned to slits.

"Are… " Olivia trailed off, her mouth seeming to dry out. She swallowed, fingers pressing against her skin. "Are we expecting the Fourth to have grandchildren soon?"

…

…

…

What?

He was pretty sure that was imp—

Ah. Yep. He got it now.

A golden opportunity to screw with her presented itself, and his refusal to look at her face and light dusting of his cheeks only added to it.

"Callum!" she urged, composure shattering.

She dropped her arms to her side, taking a half step forward.

"Nope!" Cal responded cheerily. Her posture remained tense, and he suspected she was still considering strangling him. "But I do have a new aunt, apparently."

Olivia retreated to her original spot, standing stiffly with thick accusation in her eyes.

"You're enjoying this too much."

Agree to disagree.

"I'm only sharing intel," he said half-honestly. "Basically, a crazy aunt on Alice's mom's side has decided I'm related to her and not Lord Ardere's bastard."

Olivia digested that with an aura of doubt.

"How exactly did that come to pass?"

That was the tone of someone who thought it was his fault. She had such little faith in him.

"I boosted a plant with growth magic," he stated blandly. She cocked an eyebrow at him, demanding he elaborate with her eyes. "That's literally it."

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"Callum," she warned, nearly growling his name.

Contrary to what she might think, he wasn't the problem here.

"It was a special plant or something," he added flippantly, "and she ran with it."

Her eyes searched him, likely wishing she were the hidden mind mage. He waited it out, unperturbed by the scrutiny.

"Every conversation with you brings me closer to medical leave."

He was pretty sure her contract didn't allow for that.

"It takes two to tango," he supplied disingenuously.

Unless you were the Watcher or someone who could make elemental clones. The more he thought of it, the more the expression didn't translate to this world.

"Another of your nonsensical idioms," Olivia muttered softly. Her eyes fell to the floor, jaw clenching tight. When they returned to him, they held a hint of apprehension. "Shall we discuss the elephant?"

Cal's mind shifted, joviality draining away. He nodded grimly, gut twisting in unease.

"What you said to the third prince, the advice you offered—do you stand by it?"

Olivia didn't clarify what part she was referring to. He didn't ask for any either, the phantom taste of lemon tarts dancing across his tongue.

"I try," he said, taking a breath of cool air. "It's hard. Sometimes I drag my feet or need to be reminded. I like to think I get it right when it matters."

Yet he'd let her take the lead here. It was rather selfish of him.

"You can be quite sensitive," she said, eliciting further discomfort in him. "When you're not hiding behind immaturity."

He didn't know what to say to that.

"It shows a level of empathy completely divorced from the psyche profile I was provided," she continued in a measured tone. "My predecessor warned me of it, but I don't think he had the full picture either."

Albert would likely know him best. Better than Mask or Millie in any case.

"Is that a bad thing?" he challenged with an edge to his voice.

"Ordinarily, no," she swiftly responded, rushing the words out of her mouth. "All my colleagues are tasked with encouraging empathy."

It was no surprise to him. The Constellation members were meant to have big heads, but not so big that they lost sight of those around them.

"Their track record is spotty," he snarked halfheartedly, ill emotions welling up within him.

Olivia nodded, however slightly, displaying her agreement.

"Our problem," she said, eyes darting around the deserted plaza before landing back on him, "is that you are not loyal to the Federation."

Anger was repressed, pushed back with all his strength. It festered, interrupting his attempts to form a response, the accusation hanging above them like a guillotine.

"It's not a complete revelation," she continued, ignorant of the battle being fought. "Your callous attitude has hinted at it. I simply had trouble accepting it until I learned of your march on the Federation."

There was another thing she had trouble accepting, and a wound he tried to deny was reopened.

"I had good reasons," he said, his tone firm and unyielding.

Their eyes held each other, heat gathering between them.

"I'm not in a position to refute that," she said, fueling the wrong side of him. "I can acknowledge your feelings on the matter, as you said to the boy: if they're real to you, they're real."

Cold water went down his spine, the sensation so real he jerked his hand back to check. All he found was sweat. His action didn't go unnoticed, and the girl drew back defensively. It wasn't a smooth motion, hinting she knew the futility of it.

Facing his own words had flustered him, and he was thankful for it. Because just then he'd wanted to fight her, not with words or logic, but with overwhelming might.

And that scared him.

The rage born of the injustice to him was a dangerous thing. He kept thinking it was dead, yet just like him, it popped up in the most inconvenient of places.

He questioned himself, asking why now.

It was not difficult to know the answer. His anger wasn't at Olivia, not truly. She was a stand-in—a substitute for all he hated of the Federation.

"I support the ideals," he said distractedly, distancing himself from his previous thoughts. "But it's broken in places. Even if you don't believe what happened to me, this mission is proof enough. We weren't sent here to succeed."

She raised a palm, asking him to pause. He did so, cautious of what he might say next.

"I do not doubt that. In fact, I believe our colleagues in the city to have been deliberately led astray. Prior to your arrival, personnel had been diverted from investigating a hypothetical summoning, leaving a single rookie on the case, who was warned it would not be related to the Academy."

Cal remembered Lennard telling him they ruled out the campus, but he'd never mentioned being the only one working on it.

"They've reprioritized since," she said, answering his next question. "The star in your possession is enough to overrule distant orders."

It had better be.

"However, that same star is why I believe you have no loyalty to the Federation. It is our highest honor, but you'd treat it as a paperweight if not for who gave it to you."

That… wasn't entirely off-base.

"Because you, Callum," she said, her voice rising in volume as she built to a point, "are loyal to people—not authorities, not ideals, not institutions. You're the most dangerous type of individual, the one who'd burn the world for a single soul."

It was said in such an authoritative manner that he couldn't help but chuckle in response. It wasn't a nice one.

"So you have me all figured out then?" he asked, craving the argument.

Olivia surprised him, shaking her head decisively.

"Not in the slightest."

He looked at her strangely, the heat within him now reduced to embers. He belatedly realized that she'd not only talked him to the ledge, but then back from it.

"What was the point of that, then?"

The only thing she'd accomplished was reducing the chances of Infinita Nox leaving that colosseum alive. They wouldn't be perfect replacements, but he needed to punch something.

If that was her goal, he had to question her methods.

"I believe this is called clearing the air," she said, nodding as if pleased with herself. "You were dissatisfied with my stance as of our last meeting. I have thought about it and presented an updated point of view, along with my reservations about you. There are more, but I've clearly stated them before. Would you like me to reiterate them, anyway?"

Did he want to be told how he was impulsive, insubordinate, insolent, or just a lot of 'i ' words in general?

Not really.

"No?" she asked, sporting some impatience herself. "Then it's your turn now."

His turn… what should he say?

"You take respect for granted," he said almost unbidden. "I remember our first day. You tried to get me to run drills. I'd never met you before, but there you were, demanding I get out of bed."

In the state he was in, he would have knocked her through a wall if Albert hadn't been by her side.

"And you didn't get any better. Whatever I said was disregarded as a breach of protocol or nonsensical." He air-quoted the last word. "I had legitimate complaints, but you had to do everything by the book. News flash, the book doesn't apply to me."

Olivia had never asked why he tore the sensors out of his suit. She'd just been upset that he'd done it.

"I think I can count the number of times you've said 'good job,' and it's pretty much always with strings. You have to nitpick things."

Wait. Why was he saying that? He wasn't a dog that needed praise. There was nothing wrong with a little feedback, yet the words had still come from his mouth.

"You assume way too much about me, but the funny thing is—no, the worst thing is," Cal said, his voice devoid of humor. "Is that the one thing I expected you to assume, you didn't, somehow making it even worse."

People were scared of the Fourth, and by extension, him. It wasn't like everyone jumped at the sight of him. A few could force themselves through terse conversations.

But there was always something.

A flicker of the eye, a sudden overreaction, or an errant comment, betraying their true thoughts.

Olivia hadn't been like that. For a minute there, he thought she might have been alright. Then she had to say it.

"You wouldn't respect me, but you'd respect the Fourth. You'd respect Harbinger."

His skin peeled, fingernails scraping against his palms.

"Then—" his voice choked, and he nearly tore his throat out in frustration. "Then I tell you the big secret. Why Albert was forced to retire, why we were sent here, and you don't believe me. Even now, you won't just trust what I say, but I bet if she were here, you'd lap up her every word."

He should not care.

Cal had already decided not to let her have this power over him. Here was here all the same.

His breaths came out heavy and ragged, his vision blurry despite his augmented vision. He could fell mountains, create lakes, and stand against the strongest this world had to offer.

None of that seemed to matter.

He turned, walking away without another word. The paths were empty, classes already having been called in. His manifestation followed him, but he couldn't remember directing it to do that.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he did his best to pretend they weren't there.

"I have dossiers for suspected and confirmed members of Infinita Nox," she informed, staying just out of his line of sight.

Business then.

He breathed out.

"Mia found out accounting discrepancies in the beast husbandry clubs' budgets," he said in a droning voice. "I'm organizing a controlled buy when I get the okay from their side."

If Lennard were tied up with Miss Justiciar, he'd have to assign it to someone else.

"This is not the way to your next class, economics," she noted, hastily tacking on more. "It's a simple observation."

Cal snorted. He hadn't been walking with a destination in mind, but it seemed his brain had other ideas, leading him on a specific route.

"I'm going to the clubroom," he said almost indignantly. "And I'm making myself a stupid muffin."

He could have, should have been doing something more productive.

"I'll help you then," she decided before seeming to think better of it. "Can I?"

Olivia cooking in his kitchen?

"Not a chance in the hells."

Did that expression even make sense? Or was it another thing he was trying to force into reality?

"May I observe?"

He grunted a vague response, unsure himself.

"I will then," she said, increasing her pace to match his. "And Callum?"

He didn't look at her.

"I'm sorry."