Roland took a deep breath, steeling himself as the teleportation gate sprung to life. The faint shimmer of mana radiated through the portal and cast a pale glow over the cold stone floor. After giving one last sigh of annoyance he moved forward to step through the gate. He felt the familiar, weightless pull as the world blurred around him. In moments, he found himself standing in the well-lit, teleportation chamber of Xandar’s Institute.
The air was thick with mana and the faint scent of incense mixed with the distinct metallic undertone of magical equipment filled his senses. The chamber hummed with the sound of the gate closing behind him. The smooth marble floor was embedded with intricate glowing runes that pulsed in sync with energy and amplified the otherworldly atmosphere of the Institute.
‘Everything seems normal…’
He stood alone in the chamber. The Institute mage responsible for keeping watch seemed uninterested in him - or perhaps even a bit fearful. Roland was, after all, still the Deputy Professor: a man who had defied a noble's daughter and maintained close ties with the leader of the Enforcement Department. It was no surprise that the staff viewed him with fearfulness, as he answered only to one person - the Headmistress.
‘At least she hasn’t told the others anything’
For a moment, he had expected a group of mages to be waiting for him, but the chamber was empty. He had leveraged the Headmistress’s authority during Robert’s rescue, likely the very reason for her anger. Perhaps she hadn’t ordered his apprehension to avoid embarrassment; after all, it would look bad if a newly appointed Deputy Professor was already abusing his status as soon as he left the grounds. While she was the academy’s most powerful mage, this didn’t mean she commanded everyone’s respect.
Some believed Rathos was the one truly in charge, as most decisions passed through him. The Headmistress had veto power, but she rarely exercised it as if she didn’t care. To some, this indifference was enough to deem her unfit as a leader. Even though she wielded immense power, her lack of presence had allowed rumors to flourish. Some depicted her as an aging woman, long past her prime, unable to leave the tower where she resided.
Roland couldn’t entirely dismiss this theory as it had some merit. At first glance, she looked merely like an elf with a greenish tint, but her deep connection to the mysterious tree tower was undeniable. The Headmistress rarely ventured out, and most students had never seen her in person, only hearing of her through professors and senior mages. Whispers suggested that she had somehow bound herself to the tower in exchange for mystical powers or forbidden knowledge, though the exact nature of this bond remained unknown.
While Roland believed she was at least capable of leaving the tower - after all, she had threatened to intervene in the witch’s affairs. It was also possible that her power had limits she preferred to conserve. Perhaps she was indeed bound to the tower, her mobility restricted, and she avoided expending her energy unnecessarily. This left him wondering: why had she offered her aid to him? And what did she truly hope to gain by holding Bernir hostage?
‘I can still access the monitoring system… Bernir is - right there?’
As he moved forward, he quickly scanned the institute to assess the situation. To his surprise, not much had changed since he’d left. His assistant was in the Runic Department, specifically in the forge with the other dwarves. Bernir’s vital signs were stable, showing no signs of distress. The only unusual detail was an elevated alcohol level, leading to a debuff labeled ‘Drunk.’
“Figures. I leave him alone for a few days, and he’s already halfway through their entire stockpile. He hasn’t really been able to drink as much since he became a father.”
Roland’s lips twitched in a faint smile as he noted the debuff on Bernir’s status screen. Bernir was safe, which eased Roland’s tension slightly. He just hoped the dwarves hadn’t loosened his assistant’s tongue too much; dwarven company often came with ale and hearty tales, and he didn’t want Bernir unknowingly spilling any secrets.
As he exited the teleportation chamber, Roland cast a quick glance at the walls. At first, they appeared unremarkable, but he now understood something of how the Headmistress worked her magic. His visor glowed, and the mini screen inside his helmet confirmed his suspicions: tiny spores were everywhere, clinging to the walls. They were the same spores that had attached themselves to his armor and robe without him noticing.
‘This is truly her domain, he thought. Everything here is covered in this stuff.’
Knowing this made the space feel even more cramped as he moved along, and he began to question why they had even bothered him to install monitoring technology within the Institute. Perhaps he was overestimating the spores’ capabilities, or maybe other mages had simply learned to block them out, as he had. The runic cameras he’d crafted captured footage through enhanced golemic eyes that weren’t easily deceived. They used new technology that probably would take some time to counter.
Roland continued his steady pace through the Institute’s winding hallways, his senses on high alert. He wondered about the Headmistress’s true motivations and the nature of the plants she used. As he passed through the Institute gardens, the path curved toward the gazebo where the entrance to her tower was. The students lowered their heads as they saw him move and some even left the area out of fright. It seemed that his reputation among the people here was mixed and perhaps some rumors about his battle with the three knights inside the dungeon were already circulating.
‘Arion seems busy with his work and the girls have returned safely, albeit, one is missing…’
Before arriving, he had taken the time to review everything, including the dorms. One detail stood out: Margaret was absent, leaving only Atasuna and Marlein behind. The girl remained an enigma to him, and she seemed to have taken Lucienne’s absence the hardest. If Margaret was a hidden royal, perhaps her family had taken note of the situation and decided to call her back - a wise decision, he thought.
He had gone over the choices in his head countless times and concluded that he couldn’t afford to act rashly. The entire institute was, in a way, a monstrous entity that would consume him and his allies if he attempted to escape. There would be no way for him to take over the gate with the strange plants around and far too many powerful mages patrolling the grounds. Diplomacy, he decided, was his best option.
Though he had prepared a few contingency plans involving the runic monitoring system he had previously installed here, he wasn’t confident any of them would work. Even the weaker tier 4 class holder was able to suppress him instantly. So, with a heavy heart, he moved forward, entering the beast's belly - the Headmistress’s tower. As Roland entered the headmistress’s tower, he felt the weight of her magic, almost like a living presence pressing against his senses. The air grew thicker with each step, and the faint scent of herbs and damp moss grew stronger. At the end of a long, winding staircase, he arrived at her office where the mana was the strongest.
‘The condensation of magical energies wasn’t this strong before, is she trying to send a message?’
There were no doors to be open as the stairs led directly into the room that she occupied. Once he arrived there, sunlight shone at him through the many windows. In the middle like before sat the Headmistress, her skin green and shimmering in the light as if she was a plant taking in nutrients from the sunlight. Her mossy-green hair cascaded down her shoulders, almost blending with the vines and plants growing along the walls. She was surrounded by scrolls and artifacts, carefully laid out in an organized manner across her desk. As Roland stepped into the room, she looked up from her scrolls, her violet eyes glinting with a hint of mischief as she beckoned him closer.
“Ah, Deputy Professor Wayland, please take a seat…”
She greeted, her voice calm. Just like before a chair made out of plant matter formed itself before him. He didn’t want to take it as it could easily turn into a trap but he could not decline this tier 4 arch-magus. However, just as he was about to take her up on the offer, she continued with her sentence which caught him off guard.”
“Or, should I say… Wayland the Runesmith, perhaps the adventurer, or maybe you prefer Roland Arden instead?”
Roland paused, struggling to mask his reaction, though inside he wanted to scream. He had expected her to have investigated the incident at the De Vere estate - but not to have uncovered his true identity. Even his father, Wentworth, remained unaware of who he truly was, and now she knew. There was some connection between her and his father, a fact he’d confirmed during their previous interaction. If she knew who he was, then perhaps Wentworth had already been informed. His eyes darted around, and he even extended his mana, searching for any hidden presences in the room. But his efforts only prompted the Headmistress to chuckle.
“Fret not, Your father isn’t here, nor does he know about your presence here.”
“I’m not sure if I understand Headmistress…”
Roland replied, still denying his true name. There was a slim chance she was merely probing for answers, but logically, that seemed unlikely. His true name should have faded from memory as he’d been missing for over a decade. The Headmistress tilted her head, her amusement undiminished by Roland’s denial. She folded her hands, fingers entwining as she watched him with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Ah, a master of disguise and deception, I see, a trait your father lacks."
She remarked, her voice more curious than angry. It seemed that rather than being grilled for his behavior during Robert’s rescue she was more interested in his identity as Wentworth’s son. This looked more like just a hunch and perhaps also explained why she was helping him in the first place. Once the idea entered his mind it was hard to deny, she probably knew it all from the start.
“... Is this why you gave me this position?”
Yavenna paused, letting the question hang in the air before she moved the last of her papers to the side. She looked up, her expression unreadable.
“Giving up already?”
Roland felt his shoulders tense at her words. He’d hoped to ease into this conversation, to find some careful way to broach the truth, but clearly, she wasn’t interested in subtlety. She already knew, had known for some time, and he could see it in the calm confidence of her gaze.
“There’s no point hiding it anymore, Headmistress,”
He replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
“But… may I ask something first?”
Yavenna’s lips curved into a slight smile, her eyes glinting as if realizing that she found something to play with.
“By all means, Roland. Ask away.”
He hesitated, taking a slow breath to steady himself before meeting her gaze.
“When did you realize who I was? And… did you give me this position just because of We… my father?”
Roland held back from uttering Wentworth Arden’s name. He didn’t truly consider the man his father, a sentiment Yavenna instantly recognized in his hesitation. She paused, observing him carefully, then spoke.
“I imagine it all began with the incident involving your sister…”
She hadn’t explained how she’d uncovered his true identity, but it was clear she’d known everything from the beginning. Her connection to his father explained why she’d rescued him from that witch and appointed him as Deputy Professor. It also explained her lack of anger over the trouble he’d caused at the De Vere estate. Clearly, she was an old friend of Wentworth Arden, protecting him out of loyalty to that bond. Yet, there seemed to be parts of the story she wasn’t aware of, and this conversation confirmed it.
In his interactions with Professor Fortuna, she had uncovered his greatest secret: he wasn’t truly Roland Arden, but someone entirely different. To this day, he didn’t know how he’d arrived in this world or what it truly was - but one thing was certain: he was not Roland Arden. If she knew this truth, and if her loyalty to his father ran deep, she might not have helped him as much as she had. There was even a possibility she would have turned against him, or studied the mystery of his existence.
“But your position had nothing to do with a favor towards your father, I gave you it because I need you.”
“You need me?”
Roland’s eyes narrowed as he processed her last words. This enigmatic arch-mage was in need of his skills, something he didn’t expect. She seemed to have everything on lockdown inside this institute but perhaps he was overestimating her abilities and old legends that permeated these halls. She had been in power here for quite some time and perhaps old age was catching up to her.
“Yes, Roland, you are here not because of who you were, but because of what you are and what you can do.”
She leaned forward, violet eyes glinting with a spark that made Roland feel as if she could see straight through him.
“Do not fret, your secret is safe with me. I have no intention of exposing your true identity to your father… for now. But there are conditions, Roland."
She leaned back, her gaze never wavering from him.
"As long as you serve me, your secret remains yours. Fail to uphold your duties, and I might find myself reevaluating my silence.”
Roland wasn’t sure what to make of this. She had leverage over him and was using it as a form of blackmail. It was clear that she identified that he was unwilling to meet with his father and wanted something in exchange for it. Still, her tone was rather light, it didn’t sound forceful, more like a suggestion than an outright order.
“What exactly do you need from me, Headmistress?”
He asked, wondering what she truly wanted from him. Until now, she had never given him orders or restricted his freedom to wander. Perhaps before, she’d only been protecting him out of loyalty to his father. But now, something had changed. Perhaps she had realized he was more capable than she’d initially thought. It was possible she knew he was the one who had retrieved both Robert and Lucille from the De Vere estate. Someone capable of such a feat would indeed be a valuable pawn - and it seemed she wanted to secure him as her own.
“There are forces stirring within this Institute.”
Yavenna tapped a long, green-tinted finger on the wooden surface of her desk, her gaze growing distant for a moment before settling back on him with heightened intensity.
"I feel them, like faint threads of darkness, slipping into the heart of my domain. But I lack evidence to act."
She leaned forward, lowering her voice to a near whisper.
“Someone, or something, has found a way inside. That’s why I need you, Roland. I need someone skilled, someone sharp - and most importantly, someone that I can trust.”
“... You don’t seem to be speaking about the nobles…”
He asked and she responded with a smile.
“I’m not but… I need your help, because I’m uncertain, take it as a hunch?”
“A hunch?”
It seemed that Yavenna wasn’t truly convinced that there was a problem within the institute but worried enough to ask him for help. While he didn’t truly want to go along with it, there was a risk of his identity becoming known to his father if he refused.
“So… you want me to be your eyes and ears?”
“Yes, you will remain in your role as Deputy Professor, and teach as you have been. But you will also report to me anything - anything that seems out of place. Secrets, strange behaviors, rumors of forbidden magic, and those who try to undermine this Institute.”
She looked out one of the windows, there was the whole institute before them.
“However, worry not. You won’t go unrewarded for your troubles. I will grant you access to the knowledge in my private library and of course, keep your identity away from that rascal.”
“Rascal?”
She nodded with a chuckle, and he realized she was talking about his father. He began to reassess this exchange, which had initially seemed unfavorable. But the mention of her library changed things. This was knowledge from a Tier 4 class holder, and the possibility that spells, runic spells - were stored there made him reconsider his stance…
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