Chapter 1093: No One Wants to Play

By the time Lucavion finally rose from his seat, most of Grand Lecture Hall A had already emptied.

The last clusters of students moved between the descending rows while continuing arguments that had clearly begun the moment the collection wards released them. Someone near the western aisle was defending an answer with enough passion to suggest the examiner might materialize from the ceiling and award points for persistence. Another group had gathered around a girl comparing the final historical problem against three separate interpretations, which Lucavion considered an impressive commitment to suffering after the suffering had already ended.

He adjusted the cuff of his uniform and stepped into the aisle.

Isolde had disappeared several minutes earlier.

The lingering trace of mana she had threaded through her gaze had vanished with her, though Lucavion could still remember the exact sensation it left upon his awareness. Thin, deliberate, almost playful.

Or threatening.

Possibly both.

’Troublesome woman.’

His thoughts tried to return toward the question, and Lucavion redirected them toward something considerably easier to deal with.

The examination.

That produced irritation much more reliably.

Tier II had been educational in the most insulting possible manner. It had shown him several problems he understood surprisingly well, several he could dismantle once enough context appeared, and then scattered gaps throughout the rest like carefully placed holes in a bridge.

Mana Imprint had been useful.

The auxiliary sequence problem had been aggravating.

Historical doctrine deserved to be buried alongside the scholars responsible for naming it.

And somewhere inside the Academy, there was probably a professor who believed writing an entire question around a classification system without providing the one classification Lucavion had never encountered qualified as pedagogy.

His mouth tightened faintly.

’I hope you’re pleased with yourself.’

Lucavion reached the lower aisle.

Then he saw three familiar figures near the doors.

His mood improved immediately.

Kaireth Vaulden had almost reached the exit, walking beside Dain and Saphielle with the purposeful pace of people who clearly wanted to leave the examination hall before anyone found another reason to discuss it.

Lucavion’s smile returned.

How fortunate.

He accelerated slightly.

"Kaireth."

All three heard him.

Lucavion knew because Dain’s shoulders stiffened, Saphielle’s head shifted by half a degree, and Kaireth’s stride slowed before whatever sense of self-preservation he had developed this week convinced him to keep moving.

Lucavion followed.

"Kaireth."

Nothing.

He raised his voice just enough to cross the remaining distance.

"My dear former companions."

Dain looked toward the ceiling.

Saphielle kept walking.

Kaireth finally glanced over one shoulder.

That was enough encouragement.

Lucavion caught up beside them.

"How did it go?"

Kaireth faced forward again.

"Fine."

"Only fine?"

"Yes."

Lucavion studied him with exaggerated concern.

"You seemed so confident before it began."

Kaireth continued walking.

Lucavion moved his attention toward Dain.

"And you?"

Dain gave him a sideways look.

"Leave me alone."

"Ah."

Lucavion nodded sympathetically.

"Historical doctrine?"

Dain’s expression changed.

Barely.

Perfect.

Lucavion’s smile sharpened.

"So it was historical doctrine."

"I said leave me alone."

"You did. I simply misunderstood what you wanted."

"That isn’t how misunderstanding works."

"You would be surprised."

Saphielle stepped ahead of them.

Lucavion turned toward her.

She sensed it.

Her pace increased.

"Saphielle."

She ignored him.

"How cruel."

Still nothing.

"I was only going to ask whether your structures remained stable this time."

Her shoulders tightened.

Lucavion almost felt the irritation from where he walked.

Almost.

That was the problem.

None of them were giving him enough.

Two days ago, Dain would have snapped back before Lucavion finished the sentence. Saphielle would have delivered something cold and polished. Kaireth would have stood there trying to restrain himself while visibly failing.

Today they had apparently discovered cooperation.

Lucavion found the development deeply disappointing.

He walked backward for several steps so he could face all three.

"You’ve changed."

Kaireth looked at him once.

"We learned."

That answer actually stopped Lucavion for half a heartbeat.

Then his eyes narrowed with reluctant appreciation.

’Ah.’

So that was it.

They had figured out the secret.

Starve him.

How mature.

How terribly inconvenient.

Lucavion tried once more.

"I suppose failing to injure me did produce something useful after all."

Dain’s jaw flexed.

Saphielle’s gaze sharpened.

Kaireth placed one hand against Dain’s shoulder before the other boy could turn.

"Keep walking."

Dain inhaled.

Then obeyed.

The three continued through the doors.

Lucavion remained behind.

He watched them disappear into the outer corridor with the melancholy of a performer whose audience had suddenly developed standards.

His shoulders dropped.

A long, pitiful sound escaped him.

"Ahhh..."

Several passing students looked over.

Lucavion ignored them.

"No one wants to play with me anymore."

"Why are you bothering random students for no reason?"

The voice came from behind him.

Lucavion had sensed her approaching several moments ago.

Her mana carried the dense, earthy quality he had learned to associate with plant-aspected cultivators, though Mireilla’s presence itself was far more grounded than the wild growth her magic could produce. She walked with a practical steadiness that made crowds adjust around her rather than forcing her to weave through them, her hair tied back as usual and her examination folio already forgotten somewhere in the Academy’s collection system.

Lucavion turned slowly.

His hand moved to his chest.

"Mireilla."

She stared at him.

"That sounded guilty."

"You wound me."

"I heard you from halfway down the row."

"Then you heard how cruelly I was treated."

"I heard three students trying to leave."

Lucavion’s expression became pained.

"Exactly."

Mireilla folded her arms.

"They looked like they were trying very hard to ignore you."

"A deliberate attack."

"On your feelings?"

"My fragile spirit."

Her gaze travelled over him from head to toe.

Lucavion waited.

Mireilla’s mouth twitched.

"Seems intact."

"Appearances can deceive."

"I know."

There was enough amusement under the response that Lucavion understood immediately.

She was playing along.

That improved matters considerably.

He glanced toward the corridor where Kaireth’s group had vanished.

"Such cold people."

Mireilla followed his gaze.

"Do you know them?"

"Apparently less well than I thought."

Her eyes returned to him.

Lucavion smiled.

She waited.

He offered nothing else.

Mireilla’s brow lifted slightly, though she chose neither to push nor to question the answer. From her perspective they probably were exactly what she had called them: three students attempting to escape the hall while Lucavion followed behind for his own entertainment.

That version was funnier.

He saw little reason to ruin it.

Mireilla shook her head.

"Come on."

"Where?"

"The others are waiting."

Lucavion fell into step beside her as she turned toward the eastern passage.

"For me?"

"For everyone."

His expression dimmed.

"Less touching."

"You’ll survive."

"So Elayne claims."

Mireilla glanced over.

"You saw Elayne?"

"This morning."

"At what hour?"

Lucavion considered the question.

"An offensive one."

"That describes half this week’s schedule."

"Five-thirty."

Mireilla’s expression tightened.

Then she remembered something and gave a quiet, humorless laugh.

"Mine’s tomorrow."

"Weaponship?"

"Yes."

Lucavion nodded solemnly.

"I offer my condolences."

"You had yours at three."

"People keep using that against me."

"Because you complain like you’re the only person suffering."

"I complain because suffering deserves recognition."

Mireilla rolled her eyes, though her pace eased enough for them to walk comfortably side by side.

The corridor outside Grand Lecture Hall A remained crowded with students discussing the examination, but the noise softened as they moved farther toward the eastern galleries. Tall windows opened along one wall, looking down toward frost-covered gardens where morning sunlight had finally burned through the pale haze. Groups occupied almost every alcove, some comparing answers while others appeared to have mutually agreed never to speak of Tier II again.

Mireilla belonged somewhere between the two.

Lucavion noticed it in the way her fingers flexed once at her side.

"How did you do?"

She exhaled.

"Better than I expected in some parts."

"And worse in others."

"That too."

"Which offended you?"

Mireilla gave him a look.

"Offended?"

"You have the face."

"I have one face."

"A very expressive one."

"According to you."

"According to reality."

She let that pass.

"The resource problems were easy enough," she said after a moment. "Mostly."

Lucavion’s interest shifted toward her.

"Mostly?"

"They were written by people who assume supplies stay where you put them."

That sounded promising.

Mireilla continued before he could ask.

"One scenario had three reserve caches supporting a defensive line over several days. Fixed access routes, stable storage, predictable consumption."

"And?"

"And if you’re operating somewhere worth defending for several days, one of those conditions will fail."

Lucavion smiled.

This where she was.

Mireilla’s eyes had sharpened as she spoke, the examination becoming something closer to an actual field problem inside her head.

"Rain ruins packing seals. Beasts get into stores. Someone steals. Roads collapse. A caster burns through twice their ration because they’re frightened. Your safe route becomes the first route an enemy watches because you’ve used it four times."

"So what did you write?"

"That I’d keep part of the reserve mobile."

Lucavion’s eyebrows rose.

"Even though the question wanted fixed allocation?"

"It asked for the most sustainable distribution."

"That sounds like an argument an examiner might enjoy."

"They asked."

A faint edge entered her voice.

Lucavion chuckled.

Mireilla glanced toward him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You’re smiling."

"I appreciate conviction."

"You appreciate arguments."

"Those aren’t mutually exclusive."

She gave him another look before continuing.

"I probably lost points for changing the premise."

"Maybe."

"You would have done the same."

"Absolutely."

That earned him the faintest smirk.

They walked several more steps.

"What about you?" Mireilla asked.

Lucavion released a long breath.

"Apparently education is useful."

She stopped looking ahead.

Then slowly turned toward him.

Lucavion saw the reaction and frowned.

"What?"

"You admitted that very easily."

"It has been a difficult morning."

"You feeling well?"

"My dignity has suffered enough."

Mireilla laughed quietly.

Lucavion decided he preferred that response to sympathy.

"The practical sections?" she asked.

"Better. Structural questions depended on how much they bothered explaining before using a word invented by a dead scholar."

"And history?"

Lucavion looked at her.

Mireilla’s mouth curved.

"That bad?"

"I was introduced to several important people."

"On the paper."

"Yes."

"Did you know any of them?"

"One had a memorable surname."

She laughed again.

Lucavion looked toward the windows.

"The strange part is that I understood more than Tier I."

Mireilla’s expression shifted.

"Because of the Academy?"

"Because of this morning."

He left it there.

She seemed curious, though her habit leaned toward practicality rather than intrusion. If someone gave her enough information to work with, she used it. If they clearly held something back, she usually measured whether the missing piece mattered before deciding to dig.

Apparently this one could wait.

"What did you understand?" she asked instead.

Lucavion thought of the Mana Imprint problem.

"A structure can follow an instruction perfectly and still fail because the instruction itself is wrong for what changed around it."

Mireilla’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Then she nodded.

"Obviously."

Lucavion stared.

She looked back.

His face slowly became offended.

"That took me blood and an Archmage."

Mireilla shrugged.

"Plants do it constantly."

He paused.

"What?"

"You tell a vine where to grow. Then the wall breaks, sunlight shifts, or another plant takes the space. If you keep forcing the original route, you damage it. You guide the direction and let it find the path."

Lucavion remained quiet.

Mireilla looked at him.

"What?"

He pointed toward her.

"That would’ve been useful four hours ago."

"You didn’t ask."

"How negligent of you."

"I’ll try to anticipate your examinations in the future."

"Thank you."

Her expression remained perfectly dry.

Lucavion smiled anyway.

The eastern gallery opened ahead of them into a broader common space overlooking one of the inner courtyards. Several tables had already been claimed by students escaping the lecture hall, and near the far windows Lucavion spotted three familiar figures gathered around one of the larger ones.

Caeden sat upright with a cup in hand.

Elayne occupied the quieter seat nearest the wall.

Toven was leaning across the table with enough animation to suggest the examination had either destroyed him or provided material for several complaints.

Mireilla nodded toward them.

"There."

Lucavion looked at the group.

Then at Mireilla.

"Are they in a conversational mood?"

She immediately understood.

Her mouth curved.

"Try bothering them and find out."

Lucavion’s smile returned.

’Finally.’

Perhaps the morning could still be saved.