Date: August 21, 542 After the Fall of Zanra the Dishonorable
The headmaster's study proved not to be what Kazai had imagined. Instead of pompous luxury or severe asceticism—a cozy, almost home-like atmosphere. Walls of dark wood, on them several old maps. The floor was covered with a thick, plush carpet that muffled footsteps. A narrow lancet window faced west, and in its embrasure, in the golden dust, tiny midges danced slowly.
Aldric—the headmaster—sat in a deep leather armchair beside a massive oak desk. His hands, thin with long fingers, rested calmly on the armrests. Before him, on the desk, a small brewing pot hovered—a simple artifact that maintained the perfect temperature. Beside it, two porcelain cups, so thin one could almost see the color of the drink through their walls.
Kazai stood opposite, behind the guest chair. He was in no hurry to sit. His eyes, pale, almost transparent, swept the room, noting every detail. Books on the shelves—not new, with worn spines, clearly read. A small artifact on the mantelpiece—a sphere of dark glass in which a faint bluish light pulsed. And another—very small, hidden behind a dragon figurine—Kazai noticed it by the barely perceptible vibration in the air.
*Monitoring,* he thought. *Or protecting. It doesn't matter.*
"Take a seat, young man," Aldric said, gesturing at the chair. "I assure you, it's safe here. At least, for conversation."
Kazai sat. Not relaxed—in such a way that he could leap up and draw his sword at any moment. His hand resting on his knee was only outwardly at ease.
Aldric poured the tea. A thin, almost transparent stream filled the cups, and the aroma spread through the room—herbal, with a light bitterness and something subtly sweet.
"Drink, don't be shy," the headmaster took his own cup, blew on the steam. "It's not poison. Just good tea. I wouldn't spoil an evening like this with poison, the first time someone has appeared with whom I can speak of genuine matters."
Kazai didn't touch his cup. He looked at Aldric, and the old man—he could sense it—did not rush him.
"I must confess, young man," the headmaster finally spoke, setting his cup aside, "I did not expect to see someone your age at this level of power. You are a Herald. And judging by how easily you scattered a pack of Bezuki without even using your abilities—you're far from a novice at this rank."
He paused, letting his words settle.
"I am absolutely certain you're not from our kingdom. If anyone with such talents had appeared, I would have at least heard about it. Rumors, you know, travel fast. But about you—nothing. As if you materialized out of thin air."
Kazai neither confirmed nor denied. His face remained calm, and only a slight movement of his fingers—tapping on his knee—betrayed the inner workings of his thoughts.
"True," he said at last. "I'm not from here. But I'll be staying for about half a year. For personal reasons."
"Personal," Aldric repeated, and there was no mockery in his voice, only calm acceptance. "Well, everyone may have their secrets. I'm not insisting on revelations."
He picked up his cup, took a sip, set it back down. His eyes, lively, sharp, once again met Kazai's.
"But I would like to hear that you are not plotting anything harmful against our school and city. After all, a person of your level of power would be quite difficult to stop."
A silence hung in the room. Deep, ringing, it pressed on the ears harder than any sound. The steam rising from the teacups seemed to freeze in the air.
Kazai looked at Aldric, and in his gaze there was neither challenge nor mockery. Only cold, absolute certainty.
"Not 'difficult,'" he corrected, and his voice rang out quietly but distinctly, like a knife striking stone. "But 'impossible.'"
He paused, letting the old man grasp what had been said.
"For you. And even if the teachers, students, and another Herald—whose presence I sense in the city—helped you, it would not tip the scales in your favor."
Aldric froze. His face, calm until now, turned to stone for a moment, and something flickered in his eyes—not fear, but rather astonishment. He knew there was another Herald in the city—an old friend who lived on the outskirts and rarely left his home. None of the students, not even the instructors, knew about him. But this outsider, this "traveler," had sensed him. From such a distance.
*Who are you,* Aldric thought, *if you could sniff out Ervin, who hides himself better than any saboteur?*
The tension in the room became almost physical. Kazai didn't move. Aldric didn't move. Only the steam over the teacups continued its slow, inexorable dance.
And then Kazai blinked. Just one movement, barely perceptible, but it shattered the wall.
"Nevertheless," he continued, and his voice softened just a shade—as much as was possible for a man accustomed to giving orders, "I have no intention of attacking you in any case. That is not part of my plans."
Aldric exhaled. Long, loud, like a man who had just unclenched a fist without even noticing he'd been clenching it.
"That is all I wanted to hear, young man," he said, and a note of warmth entered his voice for the first time in the conversation. "Honestly. Without evasion. You could have lied, but you didn't. I appreciate that."
He leaned back in his chair, his posture becoming more relaxed. The mask of the old, weary headmaster returned, but that same cold, appraising interest still gleamed in his eyes.
"You may stay with us, if that is your wish. We will welcome you as a guest and provide a separate house for your needs. Quiet, cozy. With a good view of the garden. I don't imagine you'd enjoy huddling in the dormitory among students."
He smirked—barely perceptibly, with just the corners of his lips—and Kazai understood it wasn't mockery. That's how people smile who know the price of solitude.
"That would be opportune," Kazai answered. There was no gratitude in his voice—only a statement of fact. He wasn't accustomed to thanking. But there was no need to refuse, either.
Aldric nodded.
"Then it's settled. I'll see that everything is ready by tomorrow morning. And today…" he glanced at the window, where the setting sun was staining the sky in crimson hues, "today, perhaps you might tell me a bit about yourself? Not your goals—just about yourself. Have you read anything? Traveled to other lands?"
Kazai was silent for a moment. He picked up the cup in front of him and took a sip. The tea was slightly bitter, with an herbal aftertaste, and he didn't care for it. But he drank. Out of respect. Or calculation.
"I am not a storyteller," he said, setting the cup back down. "But I am a good listener. If you wish to talk—speak. I won't interrupt."
Aldric laughed—dry, short.
"A clever answer. Well then, let me tell you about our academy. About how it's structured, our rules and traditions. So you know where you can go, and where it's best not to venture without invitation. Agreed?"
Kazai nodded.
"Agreed."
They sat in the tower, two Heralds, and beyond the window the sun slowly set. Aldric spoke, Kazai listened. And in that silence, broken only by the creak of the old armchair and the occasional sip of tea, something was born that neither of them could have named.
Not friendship. Not an alliance. Simply understanding.
And in the town, by their homes, students and instructors still whispered about the mysterious traveler who had come from nowhere and scattered the Bezuki with a single glance. And no one knew that this traveler had just concluded an accord with their headmaster that would turn their lives upside down.