Manifest Fantasy

December 17, 2024

Eldralore Academy

Henry shut the door behind him, turning to Ryan. “Any alerts?”

Ryan scrolled through his tablet, then finally shook his head. “Nah,” came the relief-inducing response.

Henry set his Holding Bag down and plopped his ass on the couch. The shit they encountered in the forest was concerning enough. Having to deal with intruders on top of that? Thank goodness they’d been left alone for the time being. “Alright,” he sighed. “Safe enough to debrief, I guess. So, any takers?”

Ron cleared his throat, sounding as exasperated as Henry expected. “The Vorikhas. The way they avoided the hobs. The way Valtor clapped ‘em so easily when it woulda taken us TOWs. The way the Vorikhas were there in the first place. Shit, where to even start?”

Henry let out a small chuckle. It certainly was a lot to cover. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Guess we can start with Vorikhas in the forest.”

“Vorikhas in the forest, huh?” Ryan didn’t rush his answer, but he didn’t dwell either, like he’d been mulling it over since they left the forest. His tone had that matter-of-fact certainty that came with years of hunting – man and beast alike. “Mountain critters like them ain’t got no business wanderin’ this far down. If they’re movin’ down, somethin’s pushin’ ‘em. Could be hunger. Could be somethin’ bigger.”

Isaac frowned. “Like… the Ovinne Mountain Campaign driving them out of their natural habitat?”

“Perhaps,” Dr. Anderson said, voice tapering off, as if something didn’t quite add up. “But that doesn’t explain why the Vorikhas passed over the hobgoblins. They prey on them, don’t they? It’s certainly atypical. I suppose it could be a number of factors, such as illness or –”

“Or someone’s fuckin’ with ‘em,” Ron finished bluntly.

“Mhmm. Shit ain’t right,” Ryan agreed.

As far as Henry was aware, there was only one sort of circumstance where monsters would simply ignore their instincts – monster manipulation. “Reminds me of Hardale. Similar control, but different scale. Back then it was a Tier 7 threat – a bunch of goblins, fenwyrms, and treants; nothing too crazy. Now it’s Vorikhas? Just twelve miles from Armstrong, too.”

“Twelve miles,” Isaac muttered, shaking his head. “That’s practically in our backyard.”

A bit too close for comfort. Henry needed to phone this in – contact Armstrong.

“Blue One, this is Alpha Actual, over.”

The response came immediately, though masked by a crunching sound – chips, if Henry had to guess. “Alpha Actual, this is Blue One. Send traffic, over.”

Henry took a breath, then relayed the situation. “Blue one, Alpha Actual. We just confirmed presence of multiple Tier 8 hostiles – Vorikhas – approximately 12 miles northeast of Armstrong base in Eldralore Woods. Professor ad Stron eliminated two of them. We’re currently back in Hogwarts. Hostiles exhibiting behavior consistent with magical control, with a potential Tier 9 threat in the AO. Weather is clear, though foliage may impact visibility in the forest. Request immediate UAV for ISR over Eldralore Woods. How copy? Over.”

“Alpha Actual, Blue One. Solid copy on SITREP. Stand by for instructions, over.”

A brief pause, then the radio cut back in. “Alpha Actual, Blue One. We’re tasking a Reaper to Eldralore Woods. ETA 30 minutes to AO. Maintain current position and await further instructions. Acknowledge, over.”

“Blue One, Alpha Actual. Wilco. Standing by for further instructions. Out.”

Henry turned back to his team. 30 minutes to soak in the questions that still irked them. “Alright, we’ve got a Reaper checking it out. Hopefully, we’ll find something connecting Valtor to it.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow. “What, you still think he’s involved?”

Involved? It was a biased assumption, but Henry stood by it. Valtor had yet to slip up, maintaining his cover as a professor well – almost as if he truly were a professor, down to the snarky side comments and impactful lessons. He couldn’t deny that the professor had even been a significant help – even if indirectly – in teaching insights necessary for their Tier 7 test. Yet despite all they had learned in the forest earlier, and despite the crushing lack of evidence against Valtor, Henry couldn’t shake the pit in his stomach.

“I… don’t know,” Henry admitted. “Yeah, it doesn’t make sense, but I still feel like there’s something up with him. Shit, I mean, the timing? And how he handled those Vorikhas…”

“Like it was nothing,” Ron said. “Ain’t gon’ lie, I’ve never seen anyone take down Tier 8 monsters so easily. And that’s coming from the guy who blew up a Minotaur Chieftain.”

“Hell, maybe the sumbitch is just that good. He’s supposed to be some kinda high-speed combat instructor or some shit, ain’t he? But yeah, I feel ya. What fuckin' wizard's out here slingin' blades like a damn ninja?”

“Alright, let’s entertain the idea,” Dr. Anderson said, deciding to take on the role of devil’s advocate. “If Valtor’s pulling the strings, what’s his angle?”

“Hmm… Maybe to distract us?” Henry mused. “Could be something bigger going on, bigger than the monsters. And his cover as a combat professor is perfect – gives him free reign over the forest without raising any flags.”

“Yeah, but then why reveal the Vorikhas?” Isaac countered. “If he’d never shown the Vorikhas ignoring the hobgoblins, then we would’ve never gotten suspicious.”

Ron shrugged. “Or maybe that’s intentional, and he’s tryna get us to investigate. Bite off more than we can chew, prolly get bitten and chewed in the process.”

“All fair points, but there’s not enough evidence,” Dr. Anderson said. “Far too much deniability. We don’t even know if Valtor’s tied to the Vorikhas at all, or whether he’s working solo or with someone else. Why, we’ve no way of knowing if he’s behind any of this.”

“What about Lyrus?” Isaac asked. “Shouldn’t we hit him up?”

Ryan let out a derisive snort. “Shit, and tell him what exactly? Ay Dean, we reckon your new combat instructor’s a Nobian spook or some puppet master ‘cause, well, he ain’t suckin’ at his job? Hell, might as well ask for a one-way ticket outta here while we’re at it.”

Henry couldn’t disagree with Ryan. Even if Lyrus was inclined to believe them, the Academy still had rules in place. “Yeah, we gotta be careful about confirmation bias. We’ll find out soon enough, anyway. Let’s regroup in twenty.”

Henry lifted himself from the couch. The team already started to disperse, everyone attending to their own needs after a tense day. He headed to the bathroom, answering nature’s call while considering the Valtor situation. On his way back, he detoured to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of pinkish liquid from the fridge. The scent of berries provided a welcome distraction from the clusterfuck at hand.

Ron and Isaac were already sprawled on the couch, sharing a bag of local jerky. Ryan emerged from his room, freshly showered, while Dr. Anderson read through the study guide they’d found in the library earlier.

Of course, the extra time to think turned out to be as useful as Henry had expected. Gravitating back together, the notes and theories they compared still amounted to about as much solid evidence as a flat-earther’s presentation at a NASA conference.

The radio then crackled, “Alpha Actual, this is Blue One. Do you copy? Over.”

Finally. “Blue one, Alpha Actual. Solid copy, over.”

“Alpha Actual, Reaper is currently inbound to the AO over Eldralore Woods. ETA two mikes. Prepare to receive ISR feed, over.”

Henry tapped the spacebar on his Toughbook, rousing the ATAK from its electronic slumber. Up came Eldralore in all its topographical glory. Green and brown contours emerged, a deceptively serene representation of terrain Henry knew to be anything but. “Copy, Blue One. Standing by to receive feed, over.”

“Alpha Actual, feed’s live. Transmitting now. Confirm receipt, over.”

The map of Eldralore was replaced by video from the Reaper’s optics complete with panels depicting thermal signatures and electromagnetic readings – poetry in pixels, if one’s taste ran to the militaristic. “Blue One, Alpha Actual. Feed received. Over.”

“Roger that. I’ll connect you to Captain Sinclair for briefing. Stand by, over.”

Once Sinclair picked up the radio, she wasted no time on pleasantries outside of their usual protocol. “Forest is showing elevated activity. I’m seeing readings exceeding eleven thousand milligauss in multiple sectors. Visual confirmation of multiple Tier 8 entities, including at least four Vorikhas. Hostile movements appear coordinated. Over.”

Great. ‘Coordinated’ was one of the words Henry least wanted to hear. “Copy all, Blue Actual. We see the same on our end. Any indications of external control or command elements? A rune system, maybe? Over.”

She responded, “Negative on visual identification of control elements at this time. However, patterns are consistent with manipulation – what we’ve seen in Hardale. We’re still assessing the data. Over.”

Of course. Because a day without an arcane mystery was like coffee without caffeine – theoretically possible, but what was the point?

“Understood. Recommendations? Over.”

Captain Sinclair took a moment to respond this time, background chatter coming through in unintelligible bursts. “Alpha Actual, you’ll be maintaining your current position. You’re authorized to coordinate with Academy staff tomorrow to inform them of the potential threat. Leverage your local insights. Do not engage or enter Eldralore Woods without express orders. Over.”

It was too bad they didn’t have anything larger than an F-35 just yet. JDAMs were a pleasant addition to their arsenal, but couldn’t quite cover the area they needed. A nice MOAB - or even some good ol’ saturation bombing – would’ve done the trick nicely. Why couldn’t the Nobians have waited a couple more months before enacting their shenanigans? Henry sighed, “Wilco, Blue Actual. We’ll liaise with the Academy and monitor for any developments on our end. Over.”

“Additionally, gather any intel available regarding Professor Valtor ad Stron, alongside any unusual activities at the Academy that are potentially related. Transmit findings via secure channels. Over.”

That was already hard enough. Hopefully, they’d be able to get at least something done now that they had evidence of monster activity – probably not enough to convict Valtor, but maybe enough to get Dean Dickwad to listen. “Understood, Blue Actual. Over.”

“Alpha Actual, we’ll send updates tomorrow morning at 0700, before you meet with Academy staff. Blue Actual, out.”

– –

Armstrong Base

“We’re really gonna offer airstrikes and armor, huh?”

General Harding glanced over at Ambassador Perry, dejection seeping out of his every pore. “Affirmative,” was all he offered.

The Ambassador crossed his arms. “So much for minimal interference.”

“Well, the Nobians shouldn’t have fucked around, then. Besides, it’s not like we have a Prime Directive,” General Harding said.

Perry’s silence was its own response. He simply sighed, watching the approaching Sonaran convoy.

Six carriages in total, flanked by mounted knights in… not-so-shiny armor. Well, that was a surprise. In contrast to the gleaming visage they boasted a few weeks ago, the armor now looked muddied – camouflaged, almost, as if trying to mimic what they’d seen and learned from their visits to Armstrong.

The formation was standard high-level diplomatic stuff for this world, but seeing it against the backdrop of T-walls, HESCO barriers, and razor wire was still a jolt. Overkill for a twenty-mile ride? Maybe. But with the recent monster activity, he couldn't blame them for being prudent. He'd have done the same.

The lead carriage rolled to a stop, the dradaks’ flanks heaving from the journey. The escorting knights dismounted, establishing a protective cordon around the carriages in very much the same way the Secret Service would – except with swords and bows instead of guns. They kept a respectful distance from the base’s guards, keeping their weapons sheathed.

Once the perimeter was secure, a knight came out of the rear carriage. Unlike the others, he had the usual shimmering armor; ornamental, perhaps. Or maybe he didn’t want to risk ruining whatever enchantments it had. He must’ve been Captain Orlen.

Harding hadn’t met the man personally, but the sight triggered a sense of recognition, almost as if familiarity was an inevitability between men of their stature. Much like the Duke himself, Orlen probably wasn’t someone who could plan or execute a high-altitude airdrop, but the broader principles of warfare, of loyalty and dedication, remained the same.

Duke Vancor ad Styne emerged last, guided by Orlen. The man’s gaze swept over the base – cataloging the changes since his last visit. He didn’t hide his shock at all, but it was hard to determine what he might’ve been impressed about. The new technology? The speed at which they’ve built up the base?

“Welcome back to Armstrong Base, Duke ad Styne,” Harding called out, stepping forward with a firm handshake.

“General Harding,” Vancor replied, his grip as unyielding as ever. “Your fortifications have swelled since last I set foot here. Most wise.”

“Can’t be too careful,” Harding said, “especially with the neighborhood being rough as it is.”

Vancor gave a nod. “Aye, the roads and forests are thick with vermin. But let them come; I have seen darker times, and bolder men brought low. We shall be prepared, ere the day is done.”

Harding glanced at the muddied armor of the knights. “I see you’ve also been updating your tactical wardrobe.”

Vancor smiled, as if he’d been waiting for Harding to notice. “Indeed. After watching your men, we found some merit in letting the earth itself lend us its cover.”

General Harding simply hummed in response. He’d have thought the Sonarans would be the quintessential medieval fantasy civilization, but between the various studies conducted by their anthropology department and what he learned just now, it seemed folly to think otherwise. These guys were adaptable, through and through. Respectable, but also dangerous. He could probably expect the same – or better – from the Nobians.

“Your Grace, good to see you again,” Ambassador Perry greeted the man. “Shall we proceed?”

They got through the formalities fairly quickly as they stepped away from the main entrance and began their brief journey to the main command center by the gateway. As regal as the Duke seemed, he was a warrior at heart – more at home in war rooms than at soirees; more appreciative of concision than of small talk.

Harding brought him up to speed on the incident in the forest as they walked. “We’ve managed to visually confirm at least 4 Tier 8 Vorikhas, alongside hundreds of hobgoblins, treants, fenwyrms, and rillifanes of various Tiers. The mana in the region – or at least, the way we’ve been detecting it so far – appears consistent with what we’ve seen in the Gatebuilder site Alpha Team and Kelmithus have explored recently.”

Vancor exhaled. His smile revealed a troubled mind – one that was simultaneously relieved and concerned. “So, this is the cause that spares me that tiresome dinner. Fate, it seems, has a curious sense of humor.” He chuckled. “Though, had I known it would bring a threat to rival the Sentinel Lindwyrm, I might have chosen the lesser torment. Tier 9, you say? We shall need more than a ceremony and gilded arms for this.”

If there was one thing Harding liked about the Duke, it would certainly be his levity, though that was hardly the only thing. “I’m afraid it’s no laughing matter, Your Grace. Though I assure you, we’ve moved well beyond ‘gilded arms.’ If our Apaches can handle a Sentinel Lindwyrm, I’m sure our jets and tanks’ll do a damn sight more than ceremony ever could.”

Vancor damn near started to grin, his eyes narrowing like he was trying to picture what Harding was describing, and then coming up empty. “A curious thing, these ‘jets’ and ‘tanks.’ Your Apaches proved formidable enough against the Sentinel Lindwyrm – a fear not easily achieved. If these new weapons possess such power, perhaps our foes will tremble long before they face our steel.”

The man’s enthusiasm was hard to miss, though he probably had no clue what a tank actually was. Vancor’s imagination probably didn’t have a framework for a jet screaming through the sky at Mach 2, either, but that wasn’t as important as the message itself. “If we’re lucky, they won’t get the chance to tremble. By the time they hear us, it’s already too late. From what your Archmage tells us though, we might be looking at something a bit more complex.” Harding led them up the stairs inside the command center, turning right. “Situation room’s this way. We’ll give you the full picture once we’re in there.”

To Harding’s mild surprise, Vancor didn’t bat an eye at the technological wonderland before him. Seen a computer, seen them all? After offering a nonchalant nod to Kelmithus, the Duke focused his attention on the various maps – those he could understand, despite the methodology of sourcing the intel itself. Screens became reports and maps, analysts became advisors, and the whole situation room from Vancor’s perspective probably appeared no different from a war room in a castle – albeit one with significantly better lighting and climate control.

“Impressive,” was the man’s only reaction, seeming already at home. “Now then, what is the situation?”

Captain Sinclair introduced herself before laying it all on the Sonarans. Since their communication with Alpha Team, they’d confirmed 7 Vorikhas in total. Though lacking visual confirmation, the numbers alone were enough to heavily imply the presence of a pack leader: a Tier 9 Vorikha Apex. Alongside the notable absence of infighting and territorial disputes among the various species, this strongly supported what they’d suspected all along – the second coming of the Hardale incident. This time, however, they wouldn’t be dealing with fodder easily handled by .50 cal.

“We’ve also identified five potential strike zones,” Sinclair said, gesturing to one of the screens. The map displayed glowing nodes around the Eldralore Woods, clustered like seismic activity markers on an earthquake map. “These locations show the highest concentration of magical interference, and we’ve been detecting consistent spikes in milligauss readings. Comparing it to what we’ve seen in Hardale, we think there’s a rune system at play, plus 4 other conduits. However… The data is imprecise. Each zone covers a radius of approximately half a mile to one full mile.”

Harding had figured as much. As useful as their MacGyvered tech was, its capabilities were limited – only impressive because nothing else could detect mana.

“So, while we’ve isolated five zones, we can’t pinpoint exactly which one contains the rune system. The conduits we’re picking up are likely feeding into the main rune system, but we can’t distinguish between them with the tools we have.”

Captain Orlen spoke up, “General, could we not make use of your flying machines to bombard the targets?”

Harding nodded to Kelmithus, who answered for him. “The zones are too vast, and the resources required to raze the forest entirely too great, to speak nothing of the ruin of our own lands. A preliminary bombardment, lacking precision, could well stir the beasts to assault us before we stand ready. We must proceed with care, lest we invite calamity upon ourselves.”

Vancor took a seat, steepling his fingers on the table. “I concur with the Archmage – haste may well court disaster. Should our enemies catch wind of our intent or we strike amiss, we risk provoking a full-scale assault upon Eldralore. Our fortifications stand ready, as ever, but time to strengthen them further would serve us well.”

Fortifications aside, the monsters were already gathering. The Vorikhas, the hobgoblins – who knew just how much worse the situation could get? Though they had mortar units and even an MLRS, strategic bombers were on hold until after New Year’s. Pushing troops into the forest was too big a risk; with the forest right in between Armstrong and Eldralore, neither he nor the Duke could spare men for an assault.

The best play right now – perhaps the only play – was defense. “How long do you need?” Harding asked.

“Two days, at the very least,” Vancor replied. “Though if it were mine to choose, I would ask for two weeks. Should I deem our defenses sufficient, you may launch your preliminary bombardment to prevent their numbers from swelling.”

Harding rubbed his chin. 2 weeks was a lot of time – both for their own preparations and for the presumed Nobians behind the monster manipulation.

“How fast could their numbers grow?” Harding asked.

Sinclair pulled up a chart on another screen, showing a curve reflecting the estimated growth rate of the monster population. “Well, we’re assuming the monsters are migrating in from other regions. On the bright side, we know their growth is logarithmic.”

Vancor leaned forward. In no surprise, he seemed to understand Sinclair’s words well; expected of a ruler of a fortress city at the edge of Sonaran civilization. “The forest’s limits are evident, but have they means of resupply from without? When you noted their gatherings, did you see the beasts feeding? If so, it follows that the Nobians have provisioned them to support a larger force.”

Sinclair nodded. “There are signs of that, yes. We’ve seen clusters near water sources, and it seems the Vorikhas are taking down game in the outer regions of the forest. Their current numbers seem manageable, which is, ironically, a good thing.”

“They likely won’t attack until they’re over capacity,” Harding deduced. He sighed. Just a single B-52 would’ve given them the perfect solution, but he had to make do with what he had. “Alright. We’ll keep monitoring the forest. In the meantime, we’ll prepare our forces. If the monsters advance, we’ll engage them outside your walls – thin their ranks – while your men handle what reaches Eldralore.”

Vancor nodded. He agreed with the plan, likely seeing it as the best option they had, but certainly didn’t enjoy it. “Then we abandon our search for the rune system.”

But did they need to? Harding raised an eyebrow at Sinclair.

She understood his unspoken thoughts as well as a telepath might. “Not necessarily. An opening is inevitable – either we get lucky over the next few days and find it and bomb it, or we deploy a strike team to search for the device when the enemy finally commits the bulk of their forces to an attack.”

“A contingency, then,” Vancor mused, leaning back in his chair.

Kelmithus cleared his throat, stepping up to provide a suggestion that was already on the tip of Harding’s tongue. “If we are to send a strike team, Alpha Team may be best suited for the task. I would accompany them, as would Lady Sindis.”

Vancor stood from his seat. “Very well. Then we have our strategy.”

Harding nodded, rising as well. “We’ll keep you updated on any developments. In the meantime, since we’re running ahead of schedule, let’s see if we can get you back to that dinner of yours.”

A deep chuckle escaped Vancor’s mouth, the weariness of the meeting evident in his tone. “Ah, if only such trivialities were the worst of it. By now, no doubt, the wine has turned and the conversation descended into banalities unworthy of note. I imagine my absence is hardly lamented.”

He stretched lightly, casting a glance toward the screens. “But you are right, General – perhaps I should indeed raise a glass. Though, I fear the drink I shall require for this campaign must be of a far stouter vintage than that which has been laid upon the table this evening. And perhaps your men, too, will need drinks, ere they’re sent unto their great quest.”

– –

December 18, 2024

Eldralore Academy

Henry groaned, rubbing his eyes as he checked the time – a soul-crushing 0630 compared to what he’d enjoyed the past few days. Back to early mornings, it seemed. The brief taste of academic luxury had spoiled him faster than unpasteurized mystery milk left out under the light of Sola.

Right on cue, his Toughbook chimed, signaling an incoming video call. Henry accepted it, and Captain Sinclair’s face appeared on the screen.

“Alpha Team, this is Blue Actual. Everyone present?” Sinclair began, seemingly unbothered by these hours.

“Alpha Actual, acknowledging. We’re all here. Go ahead, Blue Actual.”

“Still counting sheep, I see. Maybe this’ll wake you up.” A new file popped up beside Sinclair’s face. Henry opened it, scrolling through the contents as Sinclair explained, “We have new updates on the monster party, plus yesterday’s meeting with Duke Vancor. Hate to break it to you, but intel suggests high probability of a Tier 9 Vorikha Apex in Eldralore Woods. Visual confirmation still pending, but with 7 Vorikhas runnin’ around, I recommend you treat it as a guarantee.”

Fuck, if that didn’t snap the grogginess right outta Henry. And everyone else too, if the wide-eyed stares around him were anything to go by. A Tier 9 Vorikha Apex? Fantastic. As if regular Vorikhas weren’t already enough of a pain in the ass – and they hadn’t even fought one yet! At least the Sentinel Lindwyrm offered Thunder 1-2 a big, fat target to aim at.

Henry could scarcely imagine what that’d be like – probably like fighting the Spiranid Queen, but ten times worse. Their best chance would be an engagement on open ground, assuming their MRAPs could move fast enough to kite a speeding monstrosity on crack.

Unfortunately, it didn’t end there. “We’re also looking at five potential zones where the rune system might be hiding – each a square mile on average. The Duke doesn’t have the forces to spare for an offensive, so we’re focusing on defense for now.” Sinclair proceeded to outline the strategy cooked up in yesterday’s meeting with Duke Vancor. It wasn’t exactly a defensive masterpiece, but it was the best they could manage with their current constraints and lack of heavier assets.

“Understood, Blue Actual. Any other uh… pertinent information?” Henry could already guess where this was heading.

Sinclair smirked in a way that made Henry almost regret asking – not that it would’ve mattered. “Well, if you’re asking for good news, Alpha Actual, then that’s an affirmative. We’re evaluating options for a search and destroy mission targeting the rune system controlling these creatures. Your team is being considered for this operation, alongside Sir ad Helis and Lady ad Sindis.”

Chances were, the Tier 9 Vorikha would probably be guarding said rune system, not to mention the backup it could call from the surrounding monster-infested forest. It was no wonder Sinclair said to treat it as a guarantee. He didn’t even need psionics to sense the groans from his team. So much for their ‘relaxing’ academy stint.

Couldn’t they have given the job to Taldren? At the very least, Henry could hope that a JDAM would take the load off them. He sighed. “Solid copy, Blue Actual. What’s our timeline looking like?”

“Still in the planning stages,” Sinclair replied. “It’s just a contingency, if we do ever find an opening. For now, your orders are to brief Dean ad Caldwin on the situation. The Archmage has already apprised him of the situation via aethergraph, so the Dean should be expecting you. We’re sending the documents to your phones and tablets as well – show him the data we collected and make sure he understands our defensive strategy.”

“Roger that, Blue Actual.” Henry acknowledged, already bracing for what promised to be a fun conversation with the ever-so-welcoming Dean. “Alpha Actual, out.”

Henry turned to his team as the call ended. “Well then, Dean’s office opens at 0800. We’ve got a bit of time for a quick breakfast.”

They settled for something light – bread and jam with herb-enhanced scrambled eggs on the side. Not the best option, but satisfactory enough.

As they made their way across campus, the morning air still carried a chill that made Henry wish he’d grabbed an extra layer. Freezing temperatures aside, the falling snow painted the campus as a sort of winter wonderland – pretty, serene, peaceful, juxtaposing. The grounds were quiet, most students probably still cocooned in their beds, blissfully unaware of the shitstorm brewing in the woods beyond the Academy walls.

They finally reached the administrative building and made their way to Lyrus’ office, the door already open. The Dean sat behind his desk, looking up as they approached. “Ah, Captain Donnager,” he greeted, his tone polite but noncommittal – the way people sound when they’ve had too much coffee but none of it strong enough. “I understand you have some… pressing matters to discuss?”

Henry stepped into the office, his team filing in behind him. “Good morning, Dean,” he nodded. "You’ve received Kelmithus’ aethergraph message?”

“Yes, I have. The disturbances within the forest are already known to me; I find myself at a loss as to why your presence in this matter is either necessary or desired.”

Dean Dickhead, at it again. Did he really need to be so difficult? Henry bit back a retort; he couldn’t waste Kelmithus’ influence. “I’m here to brief you, at Kelmithus’ request.” Henry pulled out his tablet and laid it on the desk, starting with the aerial snapshots of the monster activity.

Lyrus reclined in his chair, eyeing the device with a reluctance so thinly veiled that anyone could see it – though, of course, the Dean hadn’t even bothered to mask it. “Pray, Captain, what precisely is it that I am expected to discern from these… images? I’ve no need for redundancies.”

Fair enough. The images of monsters didn’t really add anything new to Lyrus’ understanding. Henry scrolled past them, landing at the EMF data they’d collected. “We believe that the monster activity is artificial in nature – monster manipulation magic, coordinated through a rune system. These zones here show mana levels aligning with Tier 9 magic, and a closer look at the monster activity shows various species – even aggressive, territorial ones – coexisting. Predators and prey feeding alongside one another, sharing shelter, hell, displaying a complete lack of aggression.”

Lyrus’ eyes narrowed as he grudgingly examined the evidence. Even he had to take them seriously. “This is… concerning,” he admitted, though his tone suggested he’d rather eat glass than agree with Henry. “Curious, Professor ad Stron had reported this as an anomaly yesterday, though one attributed to unusual migration.”

Now that was something of note. Of course, it was possible that the whole fiasco might seem to be ‘unusual migration’, but to someone like Valtor, who apparently had extensive knowledge about monster ecology and behavior? “With all due respect, Dean, this goes beyond a simple migration. The evidence points to deliberate monster manipulation on a large scale. The Duke is already fortifying the city’s defenses.”

Lyrus scoffed. “And I suppose you must have some brilliant recommendation, Captain?”

Henry accepted Lyrus’ challenge. “I think an investigation on Professor ad Stron is warranted. The discrepancy between his report and our findings is… significant.”

The Dean’s face clouded over. “Investigate one of my professors? That’s prepo–” He paused. Though an incredulous proposition, it looked like they were starting to win him over. “Hm…”

Henry had to capitalize, starting with what Sera had told him. “Isn’t it strange that the ad Stron lineage is hardly known?” He pressed. “A Tier 9 combat mage – who taught him? Where did he learn all of his skills from? That aside, how could a mage of his caliber not notice Tier 9 magic in the area?”

Lyrus sat in stony silence for a long moment.

Henry pressed just a bit further, “We could also get Kelmtihus’ input. We’re sure he’d agree.”

The Dean finally spoke, each word seeming to cost him physical pain. “Very well. I will… consider your recommendation.”