Kai decided to pay a visit to Professor Elian, the teacher he had met briefly during the rushed chaos of the Academy's orientation week. The motivation for the meeting was complex: on the surface, he needed advice on structuring his curriculum to ensure academic survival; beneath that, he desperately required a deeper, candid understanding of the Arcane Jurisprudence that underpinned the city's power structure—the exact legal framework he knew the great families, particularly the Pyropes, were using to wage their silent war. Kai had gambled by returning the Salamander, and now he needed to calculate the potential fallout. He knew he couldn't simply rely on luck; he needed competence, control, and a solid understanding of his enemy's rules.
Professor Elian's office was a sanctuary of the old world, located high in one of the East Wing's crystalline spires. The vast windows offered a humbling panorama of the sprawling Academy campus, where the faint, shimmering gold threads of the security wards were woven into the air. The room itself smelled intensely of old, chemically-preserved paper, rich mahogany, and a sharp, metallic scent of ozone, a byproduct of the professor's arcane research. old, brittle scrolls were shelved in climate-controlled alcoves, and heavy, leather-bound tomes—each potentially containing a thousand years of legal precedent—were placed high on the desk between them.
Professor Elian, a man whose quiet demeanor and thick spectacles belied a mind as sharp and ruthless as a political operative, welcomed Kai with a quiet intensity.
"Take a seat, Mr. Kai," Elian invited, gesturing toward an overstuffed velvet chair. "It is rare for a first-year to seek advice before the introductory lectures, let alone one on the specific, often dry, topic of jurisprudence. Most are preoccupied with making things explode or float." A faint, dry smile touched the professor's lips.
Kai took the chair, forcing himself into the relaxed, unassuming posture of a serious student overwhelmed by the curriculum. He placed his hands loosely on his knees, ensuring his demeanor was open, though his mind was cataloging the office's details and analyzing the professor's subtle reactions.
"I'm trying to prioritize, Professor," Kai began, meeting Elian's gaze steadily. "I've found that the Arcane Jurisprudence course is mandatory, and the older students seem to fear it the most. I want to know where to focus my initial studies to ensure I survive it."
Professor Elian leaned back in his antique chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight. His gaze sharpened, focusing directly on Kai. "Ah, Jurisprudence. It is designed to break a student's confidence, Mr. Kai. Most fail because they try to memorize the volumes of precedent, the hundreds of contradictory bylaws, and the verbose history. That is foolish."
He picked up a slim silver letter opener and tapped its point gently against a massive, dark tome lying on his desk—a volume so old its leather cover was cracked and flaking. "The law, Mr. Kai, especially the arcane law binding the great families—the Pyropes,—is not about equity or justice; it is about power maintenance."
The professor paused, the silence in the high tower office amplifying the weight of his words. "The foundational law of this city is not a shield for the weak, but a sophisticated, ancient weapon for the strong. When dealing with the great families, the only rule you need to remember is this: The law is a weapon, and the one with the strongest bloodline gets to write the exceptions."
Elian's words were a cold, surgical confirmation of the political reality Kai had just fled. It confirmed that the Salamander was not just a relic, but a central component of the legal framework, and that his public return would have been treated as an act of war, not an honest find. Kai recognized the truth instantly: he couldn't fight the great families with brute force or simple honesty; he needed to understand the mechanics of their control, their arcane legal defenses, if he ever hoped to stand against them. His new life at the Academy was not a retreat; it was a mandatory apprenticeship in the enemy's arts.
Kai swallowed, his posture tightening only slightly. He mentally filed the professor's advice as essential intelligence. "So then, the focus should be on the history of the bloodlines and the precedents they created, rather than the statutes themselves?"
"You are quick to grasp the essential truth, Mr. Kai," Elian acknowledged with a nod that seemed to weigh centuries. "Their laws are merely tools designed to protect their legacy and crush their rivals. Do not confuse the text of the law with its function. That is the path to failure."
Kai nodded, grateful for the explicit clarity. He felt a surge of resolve. He would master this, he decided. He would master the law, understand the vulnerabilities of the powerful, and learn to wield knowledge as effectively as they wielded magic. He had to gain control of his own life, and the only path to that control was through superior power and competence, which he would earn through his studies here. Confrontation would come later, when he was ready, not when the families forced his hand.
He steered the conversation to the less volatile topic of managing the demanding academic workload, taking mental notes of the professor's cold, effective strategies on compartmentalization.
"And remember, Mr. Kai, the Academy is vast and its curriculum is demanding," Professor Elian concluded, standing up to signal the end of the meeting. "You have three days before the full curriculum resumes. Use that time wisely. Familiarize yourself with the library, seek out the resources you need, and prepare your mind for the intensity to come. The specifics of your classes, your section times, and your professors will become clear when we begin full-time operations."
Kai expressed his sincere gratitude, standing and bowing respectfully. He felt the weight of the professor's political warnings more acutely than the academic advice. He was being warned to be clever, to understand the system, and to prepare for a fight that demanded intellectual and legal strength, not just magical ability.
As Kai turned to leave the office, the intricate political puzzle piece he needed to solve was already moving into place without his knowledge.
The Unseen Messenger Eva High up on the window ledge, precisely where the intricate stone gargoyle of the East Wing met the smooth marble sill, a small, dark shape remained perfectly still. Eva, the dark honey-feathered bird, was perched motionlessly. She was a swift, muscular creature, and she had spent the last twenty-four hours flying the considerable distance from the Pyrope Estate on a critical mission. Her eyes, bright and bead-like, were locked onto the window, not interested in the two men, but in the man who was about to leave.
Eva was completely unseen by the men inside. Her position was deliberately obscured by the high relief of the stone gargoyle, and her dark, muted colors allowed her to blend seamlessly with the aging stone and deep shadows of the tower.
Clutched tightly in her powerful claws, was a small, tightly-woven dark linen bag. The bag was carefully tied, containing the Pyrope Salamander, wrapped in a thin layer of cloth to keep the sensitive ceramic safe and the relic's inherent energy muted. Eva's strength, which seemed utterly disproportionate to her size, allowed her to carry the burden with effortless control.
Her mission was precise: deliver the artifact to Kai's immediate possessions, but do so with ultimate stealth, ensuring that the return was untraceable and could not be linked back to Daphne or the Pyrope manor.
Eva watched the two figures part, waiting until Kai's footsteps echoed away down the corridor, traveling towards his dormitory. When the coast was clear, the bird launched herself into the air.
The Silent Delivery
Eva flew low, utilizing the shadow-lines of the sprawling campus architecture, easily avoiding the larger detection wards. Her destination, Room 214 of the East Wing, was imprinted on her innate, animalistic sense of direction.
She slipped through the slightly ajar window of the dormitory room, landing softly on the desk. The room was empty. Marcus's holo-tablet was still pulsing softly on his bed, and Akex's complex books remained meticulously aligned on his desk.
Eva hopped down onto the floor, locating Kai's discarded luggage—a sturdy, simple leather satchel tossed carelessly near the foot of his bed after his long journey. She knew precisely where to place her burden.
With silent, focused effort, the small bird used her beak and claws to work the zipper of the satchel open just enough. She nudged the heavy linen bag containing the Salamander deep down into the luggage, pushing it beneath the layers of Kai's neatly folded spare uniforms and into the recesses of the interior lining. The bag was completely concealed, undetectable unless the luggage was fully unpacked and specifically searched.
Her job done, Eva chirped softly—a sound of profound satisfaction, unheard by human ears—and launched herself back out the window, vanishing into the maze of the Academy spires. The Salamander, a silent, unmoving political bomb, rested deep within Kai's mundane belongings.
Kai entered his apartment (Room 214) moments later, the weighty warnings of Professor Elian about the nature of power still circulating in his mind. He pulled off his jacket, feeling the familiar hum of receding stress. His gaze swept the room—Marcus and Alex were still gone.
He moved toward his bed, intending to lift his luggage and tuck the heavy leather satchel beneath the frame to clear the floor space. As his hand wrapped around the simple leather handle, he felt nothing unusual, only the smooth texture of the old, sturdy leather. He moved the luggage, oblivious to the fact that the object of the Pyrope family's imminent civil war was now securely hidden among his socks and shirts, deep inside the bag he was carrying.
He straightened up, his eyes scanning the quiet room, his body settling into the tense, contained readiness of an operative who knew a fight was inevitable, but only after proper preparation. He was determined to focus on his studies, to gather the power and knowledge he needed to seize control of his fate.
He picked up the journal his grandfather gave him, its surface worn smooth by years of use, and began to fill it with coded notes detailing everything Professor Elian had said. He had to be ready. He had no idea how soon his enemies would discover that the Pyrope Salamander had found its new, deeply reluctant owner.