Rain drummed softly against the umbrella as Quinn and Calder made their way through the streets of Dunmire.
The city had fully awakened during breakfast. Shopkeepers swept water from their doorsteps, wagons rattled over wet cobblestone, and the smell of fresh bread drifted from bakeries tucked between rows of brick buildings. Smoke curled from chimneys overhead and vanished into the low gray clouds hanging above the city.
Calder walked beside him.
Or rather, bounced beside him.
"How many students are there?"
"A lot."
"How many teachers?"
"A lot."
"That's not a real answer."
"It's the answer you're getting."
Calder frowned.
Several seconds passed.
Then—
"Do they teach sword fighting?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Quinn paused.
That was a surprisingly difficult question to answer.
"No one has for a long time."
"Why?"
"No idea."
"That seems dumb."
Quinn couldn't argue with that.
The questions continued.
Did teachers live at the academy? Were there secret tunnels? Could students go on the roof? Had Quinn ever gotten in trouble there? Were there ghosts?
That last one made Quinn glance down.
"Ghosts?"
"Every old building has ghosts."
"That's not true."
"How do you know?"
Quinn opened his mouth, then closed it.
Calder grinned triumphantly, the little traitor knew he'd won.
By the time the academy finally came into view, Quinn had learned two things.
First, Calder possessed enough questions to fill several books.
Second, he was beginning to understand why Maris had looked so pleased with herself that morning.
The academy dominated the district around it.
Dark stone walls stretched across nearly an entire city block. Towering spires reached toward the clouds while stained-glass windows reflected fragments of gray morning light. Arched bridges connected separate buildings, and narrow towers stood watch over the city beyond.
Quinn slowed.
Calder stopped beside him.
For a moment neither spoke.
The academy looked less like a school and more like an ancient gothic cathedral that had somehow decided education was more important than religion.
"Whoa."
The word escaped Calder in a whisper.
Quinn found himself nodding.
"Yeah."
The closer they got, the larger it became.
Statues stood along the outer walls. Scholars, philosophers, inventors, and former deans watched over the entrance with stone eyes worn smooth by decades of rain, the entire structure felt old. It was the sort of place that had existed for so long nobody could imagine the city without it.
A guard stood beneath the gatehouse arch.
He nodded as Quinn approached.
"Morning, Professor Hatchlock."
"Morning, Hank." Quinn responded, thankful the guard had his name sewn into his uniform.
The guard's attention shifted to Calder.
"And who's this?"
"My brother." Quinn said while resting a hand on Calder's head.
The guard smiled.
"First visit?"
Calder nodded immediately.
The man reached into a small box and withdrew a polished wooden card attached to a cord.
"Visitor pass."
Calder accepted it with all the seriousness of someone receiving an item from royalty.
The card disappeared around his neck immediately.
"Thank you."
The guard laughed.
"Try not to get lost."
Quinn and the guard exchanged a look, neither of them had much confidence in that outcome.
Inside, the academy somehow felt even larger.
The absence of students made it quieter, but not empty. Professors moved through the halls carrying stacks of books and papers. Maintenance staff worked on ladders. Somewhere in the distance Quinn could hear music drifting from an open doorway.
The ceilings stretched high overhead, supported by enormous stone columns. Colored light spilled through stained-glass windows depicting famous scholars and historical events. Ancient staircases twisted upward toward unseen floors while corridors branched off in every direction.
Cathedral, that was still the closest comparison his mind could find. Only instead of worshippers, the building had scholars.
He found himself slowing to admire it.
Then Calder tugged on his sleeve.
"You work here?"
Quinn blinked, then looked around again.
"Apparently."
Calder's eyes widened.
"You work in a castle."
"I don't think it's technically a castle."
"It's definitely a castle."
Quinn couldn't argue with that either. Eventually he turned toward the eastern wing.
First things first, return the book, The city archives one could wait until later.
As they moved through the halls, Quinn received far more greetings than he expected.
Good morning, Professor Hatchlock.
Morning, Quinn.
Feeling better?
How's the proposal coming?
Every greeting reminded him of the same uncomfortable truth, these people knew Quinn Hatchlock.
Or at least they thought they did.
After several minutes of searching he found the woman he was looking for.
Professor Lydia Ashwell stood atop a ladder in one of the academy's smaller libraries, sorting books onto a shelf. She looked to be in her early forties, tall and thin with auburn hair tied into a loose braid. Narrow spectacles rested low on her nose and several of her fingers were stained with ink. She somehow managed to look mildly annoyed while doing absolutely nothing.
She glanced down as Quinn approached.
"You're late."
"Good morning to you too."
"You're still late."
Quinn held up the book.
Her expression softened slightly.
"Finished?"
"Took my time but yes, I've finished it."
"I was beginning to think I'd never see it again."
"That hurts."
"I'm glad it does."
She descended the ladder and accepted the book.
For several minutes they exchanged small talk. Academy gossip. The weather. A few comments about the proposal Quinn was apparently presenting later that month.
Quinn mostly listened as Professor Ashwell did enough talking for both of them.
Eventually he turned.
"I'd like you to meet my—"
The space beside him was empty, Quinn blinked then looked again, still empty.
"...brother."
Professor Ashwell followed his gaze.
A long silence passed.
"You lost him."
"He was right there."
"Mm."
"Thirty seconds ago."
"Mm."
Quinn rubbed his face.
"I should go."
"You should."
He barely remembered saying goodbye before leaving.
The search consumed considerably more time than he would have liked.
No Calder.
Not in the library.
Not near the entrance.
Not in the courtyard.
Not in any of the nearby lecture halls.
After fifteen minutes Quinn was beginning to understand why parents aged so rapidly.
Then he found him.
Or rather, Calder found him.
"Quinn!"
The shout echoed down the hallway.
Quinn turned.
And stopped.
Inside a private sitting room sat Calder.
Drinking tea.
Across from him sat a man Quinn immediately recognized.
Vice-Dean Marcus Vale.
The Vice-Dean looked to be around forty. Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair beginning to gray at the temples and warm brown eyes that seemed permanently amused. Unlike most academy administrators, he lacked any air of intimidation. His robes were slightly disheveled, his sleeves rolled up, and his easy smile made him look more like a favorite teacher than one of the most powerful people in the academy.
Marcus lifted his teacup.
"There you are."
Quinn stared.
Calder waved enthusiastically.
"Hi Quinn."
"What happened?"
"I got lost."
"You wandered off."
"Then I got lost."
Marcus hid a smile behind his cup.
"Sit."
Quinn glanced toward the nearest clock.
"I'm actually rather busy."
The door opened.
Everyone looked over.
The Dean entered.
Dean Evelyn Thorne carried herself with the sort of authority that made rooms fall silent without being asked. She was tall despite her age, her silver hair pulled into a severe bun at the back of her head. Dark academic robes hung from her shoulders, and sharp green eyes swept across the room with practiced precision. She looked neither cruel nor kind.
Simply capable.
Like a woman who had spent decades making difficult decisions and had long ago stopped apologizing for them.
Her gaze settled on Quinn.
"Sit."
Quinn sat.
Immediately.
The Dean nodded once.
"Good."
Marcus looked far too entertained by this.
Resigned to his fate, Quinn lowered his satchel beside the chair and reached inside.
"While I'm here, I should return this."
The book slid across the table.
Evelyn accepted it before settling into a chair.
Then both administrators looked at him.
Quinn suddenly felt like he was being examined.
Marcus folded his hands.
"One hundred and seventy-two years."
Quinn blinked.
"What?"
"The academy hasn't had combat instruction in one hundred and seventy-two years."
"Technically it still doesn't."
Marcus smiled.
"Fair."
Evelyn leaned back.
"Your proposal."
Understanding dawned.
Ah.
That.
The proposal Quinn knew almost nothing about.
Wonderful.
"Do you believe you're prepared?" Evelyn asked.
"For the board meeting?"
"For what comes after."
Quinn considered the question.
Then answered honestly.
"No."
To his surprise, Marcus laughed.
Evelyn didn't.
Instead she nodded.
"Good."
Quinn stared.
"Good?"
"Anyone who answers yes to that question is either a fool or a liar."
Marcus nearly choked on his tea.
Evelyn ignored him.
"The position existed for centuries before it disappeared. If the board approves your proposal, you'll be responsible for rebuilding it from nothing."
That sounded significantly more stressful than Quinn would have liked.
Marcus leaned forward.
"The board won't make it easy."
"No?"
"No."
"They already hate the idea."
"Wonderful."
"They hate most ideas."
"Less wonderful."
That earned another laugh.
Eventually Marcus waved a hand.
"The point is that neither of us supports the board's position."
Quinn paused.
Evelyn nodded.
"We support yours."
The room fell silent.
For a moment Quinn wasn't sure how to respond.
He had spent so much time expecting opposition that support felt stranger.
Eventually he settled on honesty.
"Thank you."
Marcus smiled.
"You're welcome."
Evelyn checked the clock.
So did Quinn.
His stomach immediately sank.
The disciplinary review.
Amelia Crowe.
He stood.
"I need to go."
"So do I," Evelyn replied.
Marcus pointed toward Calder.
"I'll keep the fugitive."
Calder looked offended.
"I wasn't fleeing."
"You disappeared."
"Temporarily."
Marcus nodded.
"That's what fleeing is."
Calder frowned.
Evelyn rose and adjusted her robes.
"Show him the campus."
Marcus saluted lazily with his teacup.
"Of course."
Quinn immediately regretted leaving Calder behind.
The Dean motioned toward the door.
He followed.
For a while they walked in silence.
Rain slid down the stained-glass windows to their left while sunlight filtered through them in muted shades of red, blue, and gold.
Quinn found himself staring outside.
Trying not to think.
Trying and failing.
Eventually Evelyn noticed.
"You're troubled."
Quinn glanced over.
"A little."
"What is happening today shouldn't make you this nervous."
"No."
"It shouldn't."
The Dean waited.
Quinn searched for an answer.
Eventually he found one.
"I don't know enough."
Evelyn hummed.
A thoughtful sound.
"Fair."
It wasn't a satisfying answer.
Judging by the look on her face, she knew it.
Fortunately neither of them had time to continue.
The hallway ended.
A pair of heavy wooden doors waited ahead.
The disciplinary chamber.
Evelyn stopped beside them.
Quinn stopped as well.
The knot in his stomach tightened.
For a moment neither spoke.
Then the Dean reached for the handle.
"Professor Hatchlock."
Quinn looked over.
"Go on."
The doors opened.
"You're first."
Quinn took a breath then stepped inside.