Chapter 55: The Bargain With Flint!

Walking beside him were Freddy, Lydia, Oliver, Edwin, Lena, and Leon — the six who had escaped alongside him.

Before long, an ox-cart came trundling toward them along the road. The old driver wore rough linen short-sleeved clothes. The cart was loaded with half a cart-load of hay and several live chickens with their feet bound. When he spotted the group of young people coming down from the hillside, he froze for a moment, then pulled the cart over to the side and sized them up from head to toe.

"Did you come out of the Trial Grounds?" the old man asked, his voice gruff yet harmless.

Cecil nodded.

The old man clicked his tongue. "I thought as much. Hardly anyone travels that way these years. Are you from the academy?"

"Yes."

"Which academy?"

"Griffinholt."

The old man grunted in acknowledgement. His gaze swept over Cecil, then drifted across Freddy, Lydia, the quiet pair of Leon and Lena, and the rest of the group, before finally settling on Gwendolyn. He stared at the palm-sized blue-and-white lizard for two seconds, then looked away without pressing for questions.

"There’s a relay station five li ahead. They serve food and drink. You can rest there if you’re worn out." The old man tugged the reins, and the ox-cart lurched back into motion, its wheels creaking over the gravel. As he passed beside Cecil, he turned his head and added, "Things have been uneasy at your academy lately. A band of knights rode down from the north a couple of days ago, asking everyone if they’d seen any ’heretics’. Be careful on your way back if you’re academy folk."

The ox-cart rumbled off. Cecil stood still, watching the dust kicked up by its wheels slowly dissipate across the road. Gwendolyn’s tail brushed lightly against the back of his neck.

Leon stepped up beside him, his tone quiet and thoughtful. "Church inspection knights. They’ve expanded their search beyond the academy walls."

Cecil said nothing. Though his time inside the Labyrinth and Trial Grounds had felt fleeting, days had slipped by in the outer world. His father’s case, the Church’s heretic hunt, the mysterious map Flint had given him — none of the lingering troubles had vanished. They had only grown more dangerous in his absence.

"Back to the academy first," he said firmly.

The five-li journey took roughly one hour. The relay station was a two-storey stone-and-timber building with a faded wine banner hanging above its entrance. Two cargo horses were tethered in the courtyard. They went inside, ordered bowls of hot soup and loaves of dark bread, and sat at a long table by the window. The station was nearly empty; a merchant dozed in the corner, and a young servant wiped down tables. The warm soup chased away the cold trial-ground chill and brought colour back to everyone’s faces.

Freddy stuffed the last piece of bread into his mouth and mumbled, "We made it out, but four people are still trapped inside the Trial Grounds. Martha, Eamon, Victor... and Vera."

A silence fell over the table.

Lydia set down her soup bowl. Ivy poked half her head out from Lydia’s sleeve, slithered across the tabletop, then retreated back inside.

Oliver picked at a crumb of bread with his fingers. Robin perched on the back of his chair, tilting its head in quiet contemplation.

Edwin finished his last sip of soup, setting his bowl down with a soft clink.

Lena stared down at her empty bowl, her voice small but steady. "My sister chose to stay behind. She stayed so I could leave. I have to go back for her."

Leon nodded faintly. "The trial is not over. The fragment mechanism still runs. They are waiting for a second chance."

Gwendolyn sat on the table, tearing a piece of bread into tiny crumbs and eating them slowly. She did not join the conversation, though her blue eyes scanned each person’s face in turn, listening carefully.

Cecil drank the final mouthful of his soup. "We return to the academy first. We will report everything to Flint, then figure out how to rescue the rest."

"Figure out what exactly?" Freddy asked.

"The Trial Grounds and the Labyrinth are connected," Cecil explained. "The entire realm is built upon ancient dragon runes. Gwendolyn can read and interpret their mechanisms. If anyone can open a second exit, it’s her."

Gwendolyn’s tail swept lightly across the table, offering no denial.

After finishing their meal, they resumed their journey. The official road widened as dusk fell. In the distance, the silhouette of the floating castle came into view. Griffinholt Academy’s main tower glowed dark-gold beneath the setting sun. Vines hanging from the bottom of the floating island swayed gently in the evening breeze. Cecil stood on the road, gazing far at the castle, feeling a strange sense of detachment. He had spent less than ten days within its walls, yet he had survived labyrinths, illusory battles, and life-or-death fragment trials. Everything felt different now.

Night had fallen by the time they reached the academy’s outer grounds. The main gates of the floating castle were locked for the night, but a side gate stood ajar. Two silver-armoured guards stood on either side of the opening. As Cecil approached, one guard raised a hand to stop him.

"New student? Coming back at this hour?"

"We were sent into a classified trial realm," Cecil replied calmly.

The guard sized him up, then glanced at the tired group behind him. "Which group?"

"Group B."

The guard’s eyebrows lifted, yet he asked no further questions and stepped aside.

Cecil led the group through the side gate onto the flagstone path leading toward the old tower. The academy was quieter than usual. Most students had returned to their dormitories; only a few figures wandered dimly through the courtyards. Several windows of the main building glowed with light. One office window on the top floor remained open — Headmaster Grimshaw’s study.

Cecil glanced up at the window as he passed the main building. A shadow moved inside, though he could not make out who it was.

The corridor of the old tower was dark when they arrived. Cecil pushed open the door to his room. Everything was exactly as he had left it: narrow bed, worn desk, empty wardrobe, oil lamp. The rusted three-copper-coin knife still lay where he had set it, beside his bracers and potion vials. He picked up the knife, weighed it in his hand, then set it back down.

Gwendolyn jumped off his shoulder and landed on the pillow, curling into a small ball. She did not fall asleep at once; her blue eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, watching Cecil move about the room.

Freddy, Lydia, Oliver, and Edwin headed to their respective chambers. Leon returned to his assigned temporary quarters in the old tower. Lena lingered outside Cecil’s door for a moment, her expression tight with worry for her sister, before retreating to an empty guest room down the hall.

Cecil closed the door and snuffed out the oil lamp. He lay down on the narrow bed, Gwendolyn curled beside his pillow. In the dark, he stared at the crack in the ceiling, replaying every brutal detail of the past days: the endless Labyrinth, the butterfly illusions, the fragment standoff, the final impossible choice, and the old farmer’s warning of Church heretic hunts.

Gwendolyn’s tail brushed his wrist softly in the darkness.

"Sleep," she murmured.

Cecil closed his eyes.

He woke early the next morning. The sky was still pale when he sat up, pulling on his robe, fastening his bracers and tucking the rusted knife at his waist. Gwendolyn still curled soundly on the pillow. He reached out and lightly touched her back; her ears twitched, but she did not open her eyes.

When he stepped out into the corridor, the entire group was already waiting. Freddy’s door stood half-open; the crunch of Turner chewing echoed from within. Lydia, Oliver, Edwin, Leon, and Lena stood quietly in the dim hallway, all ready.

"Let’s go," Cecil said.

They descended the spiral staircase, crossed the fog-shrouded courtyard, and headed toward the west side of the main building. Flint’s office was the third room on the western wing, unmarked and plain. Cecil stopped before it and rapped three times.

There was no immediate reply. He waited roughly five seconds and knocked again.

The door opened from within. Flint stood behind it, her deep-red hair tied in a low ponytail, wearing her fitted leather jacket, holding a steaming teacup. Her ice-grey eyes swept over the exhausted group of students, sharp and curious. She had received no report on their mission, no updates on their survival. She knew nothing of what they had endured.

She said nothing, merely stepped aside to let them enter.

Cecil stepped into the office. A map lay spread across the desk, next to an old leather tube — the very one he had taken before. Flint set her teacup down and sat back in her chair, folding her hands, waiting for an explanation.

"You were dispatched for a preliminary field test," she said flatly. "You’ve been gone far longer than scheduled. I have received zero updates. Explain everything."

Cecil nodded, beginning from the start.

"We did not complete a standard field test. We were pulled into a hidden dimensional Labyrinth, constructed entirely from ancient dragon runes. Inside the Labyrinth, we faced multiple deadly trials, monster hordes, and layered illusory barriers. After breaking through the Labyrinth core, we were pushed into a deeper realm — the Fragment Trial Grounds."

Flint’s gaze sharpened, listening intently.

Cecil continued, recounting every critical detail: the twelve competing students, the twelve dark-gold relic fragments, the butterfly illusionist’s mental manipulation, Leon’s neutral stand during the fragment dispute, the final rules debate over relic ownership, and the last desperate selection of escapees.

He told her plainly how Vera had voluntarily stayed behind to ensure Lena’s freedom, and how Martha, Eamon, Victor, and Vera remained trapped within the closed trial realm.

"Six of us escaped," Cecil finished. "Four are still trapped inside. The trial exit is tied to dragon rune mechanisms only Gwendolyn can decode."

Flint fell silent for a long moment. She stared at Cecil, her ice-grey eyes unreadable.

"The Labyrinth is a forbidden dragon relic," she said slowly. "No student group has ever breached its inner trial layers and returned alive. You are the first."

She paused, then spoke again.

"I will help you get the remaining people out. But I have one condition."

Cecil looked at her.

Flint picked up the old leather tube and twirled it in her hand. "When you explored the dragon rune ruins, did you encounter a thumb-sized dark-red fragment carved with ancient patterns?"

Cecil thought of the hidden fragment tucked beneath Gwendolyn’s belly scales. He did not answer at once, and Flint read the truth in his silence.

The corner of her mouth tugged into a faint smile. "You carry it. I can sense its ancient aura."

Gwendolyn tensed slightly on Cecil’s shoulder, yet made no sound.

"I do not wish to take it from you," Flint clarified. "I only need full information. Tell me its runic inscriptions, its origin, and its functions. In exchange, I will decode the Labyrinth’s secondary passage and retrieve the trapped students."

Silence hung over the office. Cecil felt Gwendolyn’s tail tap lightly against the back of his neck — her confirmation that the deal was acceptable.

"Agreed," Cecil said. "But I have my own conditions."

Flint met his gaze. "Speak."

"The Church is conducting a large-scale heretic investigation targeting me," Cecil stated. "Northern knight squads are patrolling the outer roads. I need full information on how far their investigation has progressed, and what charges they are preparing against me. You have insider channels within the academy and the neutral factions. I need that intel."

Flint sipped her tea slowly, studying him for several seconds.

Finally, she nodded.

"Deal."