Within the top floor of the Institute’s magic tower, silence prevailed. Roland stood there, contemplating a tantalizing offer. She knew one of his deepest, darkest secrets, but for now, it seemed she wouldn’t reveal it. Surprisingly, the thought of his father discovering his true identity no longer bothered him as much as it once had, thanks largely to his growing strength and independence.
This all began with the appearance of a strange, temporary knight assigned as his shadow, one that tried to kill him. He had assumed one of his siblings or their mothers was behind it but he never suspected his father. By this point, he had already risen above his siblings and their mothers; they likely couldn’t oppose him, and few assassins would dare take on someone of his status. The greater concern was the awkwardness of explaining everything and the possibility that his father might try to forcefully reclaim him or even appeal to the Valerian Duke for assistance.
Roland wasn’t certain of his father’s exact standing within the military hierarchy. As a Lord Marshal, his father commanded a large number of troops, and although he belonged to the royalist faction, that didn’t mean his voice would be dismissed by their opposition. In times of crisis, factions from the same kingdom often found common ground. The Duke, enticed by the prospect of indebting a potential Tier 4 class holder, would likely grant such a favor.
“Your library, you say?”
Roland asked, his curiosity piqued despite his reservations.
“What sort of knowledge does it contain?”
Yavenna’s smile widened, a hint of pride gleaming in her violet eyes.
“It houses ancient texts, rare spell tomes, and research that spans centuries. You’ll find information on runic magic, enchantments, and even some forbidden arts that aren’t available to the general faculty. It’s a treasure trove for any mage seeking deeper understanding.”
He could tell she was exaggerating to some extent, but he couldn’t underestimate the hidden knowledge stored in that library. After all, it was a book from there that had enabled him to finally construct the runic prosthetic. He knew that knowledge was power, and he hadn’t even fully explored the Institute’s main library yet. Roland wasn’t ready to abandon this place as there was still so much he wanted to accomplish here. The Institute also served as an excellent teleportation hub, and he intended to investigate each of the elemental towers and their tower spirits to strengthen his own.
After hearing what he would receive in return, the exchange no longer felt like blackmail; it actually seemed like a good deal. With his teleportation gate, he could visit the Institute in an instant. When thinking of it as a weekend side job, it didn’t sound so bad. He could still spend most of the week back in Albrook and even return there each night if he wished.
“How exactly would my curriculum look? And what do you expect me to do here?”
“Hah, I knew you could not resist my library’s lure~”
Yavenna chuckled, her eyes twinkling with satisfaction.
“You’ll continue with your lectures in runic theory and remain an active member of the Runic Department. Fulfill your duties as you were before, without raising suspicion. But more importantly, I need you to keep a close eye on the other Departments.”
“I see. Would a report twice a week suffice?”
“Oh, that would be wonderful!”
Yavenna replied, clearly intrigued by his suggestion. This method was common practice in Roland’s more modern world. Recording his findings in writing or saving them to a runic device would be much simpler than meeting with her in person each week. Efficiency was his priority, and Yavenna seemed to appreciate his streamlined approach.
“I could also install a master console in your office, or somewhere else in the tower. It would make using the runic monitoring system much easier.”
He tapped his chin, his metallic gloves clanking against his helmet as he was already considering ways to streamline the work. If he could automate most of the process, he could minimize the time spent on these investigations. But as he was mulling over these ideas, he noticed the Arch-Magus watching him with an oddly knowing smile.
“If you’re already contemplating such solutions,”
She said with a raised eyebrow.
“Does that mean you accept my offer?”
Roland's gaze flickered toward Yavenna, meeting her curious smile. He had weighed his options, but her offer was too compelling to dismiss. Her library would give him access to knowledge he craved, and her offer also protected him against Wentworth. At the time being, he felt like he was not quite fit to face someone at that level. His strength had been tested and he failed to meet his own expectations. The world was still big and before he truly faced it, a few things needed to be done.
“Yes, Headmistress. I accept.”
Roland inclined his head with a hint of formality, signaling the temporary deal between them. He wasn’t sure what the specifics of it was but he didn’t need to wait long as Yavenna came prepared.
“Great, then please, sign on the dotted line.”
Before he could pose any questions a quill along with a long parchment floated towards him. It was a magical contract, a type that he had signed many times before. This wasn’t his first rodeo so before signing anything, he read through.
“This contract is very thorough, but could we address a few points?”
The Headmistress raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised that he’d examined it so closely.
“Oh? Are you really trying to renegotiate my contract? How bold of you~”
She didn’t seem annoyed that he was questioning the terms set by an Arch-Magus, just surprised. In truth, she could likely force him to sign anything or present a contract far less favorable. Most people would understand this and simply comply, but Roland had no intention of being pushed around. He was prepared to stand his ground, even if it meant hours of haggling with her here. Yavenna’s lips curved into a wry smile as she leaned back, folding her arms as if she were about to settle in for a show.
"Very well, Deputy Professor, let’s hear your proposals. Consider it a... test of your mettle."
Roland nodded and got ready, making a deal with a mage of a higher caliber was never easy but he would do his best to get the best deal possible out of this.
“First, this one clause states…”
He voiced all his concerns about the contract, and the Headmistress seemed both surprised and annoyed by his questions. However, his assertiveness only reinforced her belief that she had chosen the right man for the job - someone unafraid to challenge even an Archmagus like herself. After spending a little over an hour reviewing the contract in detail, they finally reached an agreement.
Roland would be required to visit the Institute at least once per week. The Headmistress reserved the right to summon him for specific missions, and if he completed certain tasks, he could be exempted from his weekly obligations. In return, he was granted access to her personal library for one day per week. Although he couldn’t take any books with him, he was free to study them at his leisure on-site.
To earn additional library privileges, he simply needed to extend his time at the Institute or perform exceptionally well on assigned missions, according to a merit system they had agreed upon. He could even use these merit points to waive his weekly attendance requirement, though it would require a large amount of points.
Once Roland had secured the final terms, he signed his name on the parchment with a fluid, practiced motion, and the contract shimmered briefly before vanishing into the ether. The Headmistress gave him a satisfied nod, her violet eyes gleaming as she accepted their formalized alliance.
“Excellent, Deputy Professor Wayland. I trust this will be a fruitful arrangement for both of us. Do not disappoint me.”
Roland inclined his head, acknowledging her words. He already felt the weight of this deal - though this time, the scales were balanced more in his favor than he’d originally anticipated. She had access to his talents, and he, in turn, to her private archives. The knowledge contained within her library could be the key to advancing his understanding of runes, machinations, and perhaps much more.
“I suppose I’ll excuse myself now?”
“Sure. You’re free to take your friend with you, if he wishes to leave that is... He seems to be enjoying himself with the forge staff, though. If you’d like, I wouldn’t mind if he became part of the institute.”
Roland nodded, recognizing that his visit here was coming to an end. According to their agreement, he would have a few days to settle his affairs before he was required to attend some lectures at the Institute. Bernir was free to leave with him, though he could also remain at the forge, as long as he continued to act as the Headmistress’s eyes, ears, and sword. This position granted Roland an unexpected level of freedom - even outside the Institute, he could invoke her name, a protective shield he had never possessed before.
As he turned to leave, he felt her gaze upon him - a strange, lingering look. The Headmistress rarely exhibited emotion, and if she did, it was often veiled in amusement or curiosity. But now, there was something different, something that ran deeper. He exited her chamber with the hope that their future exchanges would be less intense.
Once Roland left, the Headmistress leaned back in her chair, a shadow of solemnity casting over her features. She waited until the sound of his footsteps had faded before reaching beneath her desk, drawing out an old, worn picture she had kept hidden from him before he arrived. It was worn and faded, edges curled from years of handling, but the figures were still visible. One of them looked like a younger Wentworth, his face slightly softened by still mature. Next to him, was an older man wearing Solarian paladin armor and to his side an elven mage, her ears long and skin green. However, there was someone else within the frame, someone that she looked at with sadness in her eyes.
“The passage of time is relentless, is it not?”
Yavenna murmured quietly, gently tracing her finger along the edge of the framed painting that exhibited a remarkable resemblance to a modern day photograph. She allowed her hand to rest upon the image of Wentworth before exhaling a thoughtful sigh.
“What circumstances may have led to such a profound estrangement between you and your son? Once this matter is resolved, I shall have to give that brat a good scolding…”
Her fingers trembled for the briefest of moments before she returned the framed picture into its hiding place. She wasn’t too happy about keeping this secret but she would uphold her end of the bargain. Yavenna knew the risks that loomed in the Institute, the hidden threads of a larger, more dangerous game at play and Roland would help her uncover it.
Meanwhile Roland descended the spiraling staircase from Yavenna’s office, his mind whirling with everything that had transpired. He’d managed to secure a beneficial arrangement, but the terms of his new role and Yavenna’s expectations still gnawed at him. He’d taken on a job that could lead him into murky conflicts within the Institute, with enemies capable of using unknown magic.
One memory from the De Vere incident still lingered in his mind. His father had somehow managed to conceal his troops from Roland’s monitoring system and golems. Although they could be seen directly through cameras, they had managed to evade his radar entirely. To address this vulnerability, Roland planned to research concealment techniques beyond just spells. He needed a deeper understanding of this world’s systems and hoped that the knowledge he would gain from the restricted library would be enough to shed light on these mysteries.
Soon, he was outside and arrived at the gazebo. However, instead of heading straight to the forge where Bernir was enjoying himself, he paused. He had come here with three main objectives: the first was to speak with the Headmistress, the second to bring Bernir home, and the third to address matters concerning both the De Vere estate and the Arden family.
‘Now that I have her permission, this area should be fine for that.’
Before coming here, he’d been asked for a big favor. Although he had reservations, both his brother and Lucille were insistent. Since their departure to Albrook, their father had been left guessing as to their whereabouts. Now that he was at the Institute, he hoped to gather some information on the matter, though he wasn’t sure how his father would respond.
Initially, he had assumed that his father would disregard his family obligations and abandon Robert. But after appearing at the duel, it seemed more likely that his father would continue investigating. Perhaps, if he could offer some closure to this matter, he could prevent further complications.
From his inventory, he retrieved a small cube etched with intricate mini-runes. Placing it in the center of his palm, he channeled a large amount of mana into the object. The cube began to glow, its runes shimmering as a wave of greenish magical energy enveloped the metallic form, gradually molding it into the shape of a large swallow, composed entirely of mana - similar to the one Roland used for exchanging letters with Arion.
‘I wonder how they will react after they see this…”
The magic-formed bird took flight, shimmering briefly before transforming into a beam of light. It shot upward, then split into two beams, each veering off in a different direction. Roland watched the spell for a moment before turning away, his next destination the forge, where his assistant was being held back by his enthusiastic peers. He headed toward the forge, his steps growing lighter with the knowledge that he had a few days to tie up affairs in Albrook. For once, things seemed to be aligning in his favor, though he knew better than to trust too deeply in luck.
When he reached the forge, Roland found Bernir in a boisterous state, slouched over an anvil, laughing uproariously alongside the dwarves. They were cheering each other with tales of past escapades, tankards raised high, their cheeks red from both the heat of the forge and the strength of their drink. Bernir, caught up in the camaraderie, barely noticed Roland enter until a dwarf elbowed him and nodded in Roland’s direction.
“Boss! Ur… ere…! URPPPPppp.”
Bernir called out, stumbling over his words, then letting out an ear-splitting burp, which the other dwarves cheered on. It seemed that the once-outcasted half-dwarf had finally found a group that accepted him. These were the same dwarves he had worked with during Robert’s duel, and it was clear they had formed a strong bond through the hardships they had faced while assembling the power armor. Roland wasn’t sure if he should feel good or bad for the state Bernir was in. He was in high spirits but he promised someone that he would get him home in one piece and it was time to leave
“Bernir…”
“Bossss!”
He slurred, his face flushed.
“I swear these dwarves... best company I've had since Albrook!”
“I’m sure they are but I’m afraid it’s time we head back.“
Bernir’s face fell slightly, but he managed a lopsided grin.
“Aye, I suppose we’ve a few things to work on, eh? Let’s then aye? But before I go, one last toast for the greatest boss ever!”
“Aye!”
Roland gave a final nod to the dwarves, who raised their tankards in farewell. Beside him, Bernir stumbled along, his arm slung over Roland’s shoulder for support. As they made their way back, Roland wondered if he should have packed a potion to counteract drunkenness. A cleansing spell could work, but at the Institute, too many eyes were on him. It was better to head directly to the tower and use the teleporter without drawing attention. No need for farewells as he’d be returning soon enough and likely staying for quite a while.
Roland carefully maneuvered Bernir into the teleporter chamber. There, the gate and the mage responsible for it was already waiting. The room filled with a hum of magical energy, and in an instant, they were back in Albrook, emerging from the shimmering portal within Roland’s workshop underground.
As the teleportation’s magical effects faded, Bernir swayed and blinked, looking around with a groggy sense of recognition. Roland steadied him with a firm grip, helping him navigate the few remaining steps to the elevator.
“Come on, Bernir. Let’s get you back into the house.”
Roland said, his tone somewhere between amused and resigned. He could just cast a spell at this point but he wasn’t sure if he should. Perhaps letting Bernir have a splitting headache the next day would keep him from drinking as much.
Once they reached the top floor and stepped out, two familiar figures greeted them: Elodia and Bernir’s wife, Dyana. While their child was with Roland’s wife, Dyana was charging toward them with a decidedly menacing look on her face.
“Bernir! Just where in the realms have you been? and why do you smell like an alehouse on festival night?”
“Uh… Boss? Help me out here.”
Bernir looked at Roland with pleading eyes but after seeing Dyana’s maddened visage, he just retreated.
“Sorry… you’re on your own with this one…”
Bernir shot Roland a betrayed look as he realized there would be no escape from his wife’s wrath. There was no escape, her sharp gaze was firmly affixed on him and his haggard clothes and he would probably not hear the end of it for a while…
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