Vol. 2, Ch. 71: Bird Watching, or Watching Bird?
“Excuse me, Kasfew Stoltz, this is a private conversation. Between friends. Are you friends with any of us?” Syra spat out before Neska could get a word in. The bird remained silent, his gaze intense and his beak still creased in a knowing smirk. “Nah, didn't think so. Go fly south for the winter or something.”
“Oh, but it’s more fun up here in the north.” He clacked his beak as if to intimidate Neska. “See, I've been told that snakes can't be trusted. They crawl on their bellies. Plus, Ouroboros allegedly devoured the world a time or two. People aren't keen on that.
“At any rate, Professor Serkin is in the medical center and was harmed by reptiloid venom. And my little birdy told me you crashed through the glass windows of his office.”
"Wow, you sound sus. That's an awful lot of information that would be considered confidential and not widely known," Neska instantly pointed out. She was not entertaining this bird's accusations and smug attitude this time. "Furthermore, there are several dozen snakelike Awakened on the campus. Quite quick of you to single me out without any evidence, or assume wrongdoing,” she replied calmly. Rising to this bird's aggression would solve nothing.
“Someone wearing a hat? Kinda like the hat you're wearing,” he commented.
“Is it a crime to wear a hat?” she asked in a dramatic tone, tilting it for emphasis. “It’s stylish. I like being a trend setter.”
He peered at her closely, and a flicker of flame etched his iris for a second. "Personal space, Kasfew. Unless you came here for snugs, too? If you're into that kind of thing."
He recoiled backward, gritting his beak. “So it wasn't you crashing through his office window?”
“Someone crashed through the plate glass. Twice, actually,” Neska affirmed. “Did this reliable source also report that several other individuals were chasing after the slippery bastard that did the deed?”
“Nah. Just you.” He folded his arms and preened his feathers as if he found her uninteresting. “Of course, you're not under arrest or being dissected for arcanist science. Must’ve had some way to influence the narrative. Don't tell me, hypnotism? Snake magic?”
“Listen, shitbird, I think I've had just about enough of your instigative squawking,” Juni growled, but Neska put a hand over her head to keep her from rising from the table. “Hey, don't try to stop me. Rock beats fire, every time. and I'll settle for hitting one bird with one stone," she said.
Neska pointed to the windows nearby. "We should not cast stones in glass dining halls. That's an expensive oopsie."
"Worth it," Juni snapped in return.
“Oh, this is rich. The mouse has more spine than the snake,” Kasfew said, looking proud of himself. “Because, you know, body length.”
“Kasfew, why are you here? Don't you have someone else to prey on?” Neska asked, locking eyes with him. "We're having a nice Saturday morning breakfast. As friends. Unless you're slightly jealous of the company."
Neska didn't know someone with a beak could sneer, but Kasfew did. “I’m here to make sure the right people win this war and get the credit for it. Would you like to know who has sacrificed more for this institute? Because I doubt you can hold a candle to it.”
If you knew who my witch was, or the sacrifices she made, you wouldn't dare to be so bold. “I've contributed to stopping the Varadur. But I don't measure it in terms of enemies slain.”
He scoffed, then waved to the dining hall, and then pointed out the window to the training barracks in the distance. “The Stoltz family, myself included, have been involved in the funding and operations of this institute for generations. Rivilat was and is a fulcrum point to exert leverage and uplift the rest of Valos. We have the highest graduation rate in the country for post-primary education. Two heads of state graduated here and were scouted years before their ascent.”
He pointed to a mural on the back wall, showing a crest of Rivilat Academy, a miniature of the fortress with flowing tapestries and a background of stars marking the celestial sky. Seven smaller sigils were drawn below the scene. “See the family crest in the middle? The most important one? The Stoltz family crest of the Astral Phoenix, one of the Divine Beasts. My ancestors began the construction of the main hall, the medical wing, and renovated the cathedral.”
He gestured to the hall. “All this was converted for the Awakened twenty years ago. Funded by the strongest and most influential families in all of Valos; no expense was spared.”
“How generous of your family to invest in their survival,” Neska replied in a dry tone. “Is there a point to this? Other than waving a legacy around like it means something to me.”
He pointed out the window, toward the obelisk. “There's a memorial on the central path to the Grand Hall. Have you seen it?”
“Briefly. And you still haven't explained why you made a reference to the cistern, or why we would be interested in it.” Neska knew that anything underground was a great place to hide things, including possibly illicit alchemical and ritual work. Or to be trapped with no way out. Then again, she had Juni, for whom earth and rocks were mere deterrents.
“Would you like to go see it?” he asked.
What is he doing? I wonder if this is what they call that ‘chest puffing’ exercise I’ve heard mentioned. “I’ll come along, Kasfew. Provided you make no more jokes about snakes.”
He clicked his beak, narrowing his eyes for a second. At first, she thought he might say no. Then, his posture relaxed, and he shrugged. “Fine. No jokes about birds then. Keeping it fair, shall we?”
The Grand Hall was a beautiful building composed of several floors of fortified stone, crystalline glass, and an aerie on top for winged mounts, which doubled as the garrison’s lookout and stable for griffins and other flying couriers.
Neska heard the flap of wings above her as one of the griffins landed gracefully on a large platform intended for them to come in for a soft entry, all white and black banded feathers, and riders slowly unstrapped and dismounted. They wore thicker leather gear, presumably to combat the cold at high altitudes.
Her focus was drawn back to the large hedges on the ground surrounding the memorial. They were almost double her height, set in a hexagonal pattern around an onyx colored, slightly tapered obelisk that formed the memorial. Another row of smaller slabs, six feet high, ran along a path leading away from the obelisk, with faint gold etching across the polished surface. Small flowers and brickwork accents filled the gaps between the slabs. A few bouquets and vases had been set by the base of four of them.
No. Those were etchings on the slabs, upon closer inspection. Names.
Neska saw the dark stone slabs, each with an arcane light directing illumination to the slabs, so that they’d be visible, even at night. There were rows of names etched in, and she knew with a sinking feeling what each name was:
A student who fell in the line of defending their academy, and Valos as a whole. She traced her finger along one row, noting their graduation years, or in the professor’s case, their tenures and their positions. Some had a small quote or other personalized message.
Her stomach knotted when she saw the dozen other slabs filled with writing, but fewer of them as she progressed further away from the obelisk. Thousands. So many names.
Too many names. Too many lives with great potential, cut tragically short.
“Find anyone you know?” Kasfew asked. That was the first statement she’d heard from him, which didn’t sound arrogant, smug, or condescending.
“No. No names I recognize.” She glanced at the obelisk after a moment, pointing to it. “I see the obelisk has the same sigils on the base. Seven families, right?”
“Correct, the academy was started with seven influential families to build a refined and established campus from the old monastery and ruins that demarcated the Verdant Plateau centuries ago. The bigger names are added to the central obelisk, commemorated for leaders of state, professors with important discoveries and academic breakthroughs, and those who have fallen in the defense of the academy. That includes prior headmasters and headmistresses.”
He pointed one wing claw at the obelisk, at a name on a faint brass plaque. “My great-grandfather defended the academy from a plague. He imposed quarantines and found a cure using certain pyromancer abilities and the extract of firevines to burn the infection out without killing people, but couldn't save himself by the time he had the solution.”
“I suppose it is a great honor to have a name on a plaque to commemorate the fallen,” Neska murmured.
But she spotted another name. “Cedrick Stoltz. Another family member?”
Kasfew flicked a wing claw toward it gently. “My uncle. He died when I was young, during the first wave of the Varadur spreading from Arivol. He made a gallant effort to attack them when they were weak. They cut a swath of violence to within a few miles of the rift-torn and blackened landscape of Gravost, the capital. He made it that close. And we’ve never gotten that close since,” he added, his gaze darkening.
“Nothing like being remembered for failure,” Brent said softly. “Still gotta commend him for taking the initiative.”
Juni pointed at other names. “I see blanks where there should be names. Why is that?”
The firebird pointed to one of the smaller stone slabs. “Sometimes, before they go on missions, they request that their names be stricken from the record. An odd request, but some people don’t want their names on a memorial. Or, some of the poorer next of kin couldn’t afford engravings.”
Giving your life for your fellow humanity, and they can’t even afford to put your damn name on a wall. That has to be the biggest kick in the head that I can think of. Neska folded her arms. “So why bring us here? To show off the ‘sacrifices’ of your family?”
“There won’t be anyone to remember them if the Varadur win. Period.” Kasfew regarded Neska, his posture calm and composed. “So, any time I see someone with initiative, ambition, and talent to back it up? Well, it pays to keep them handy. Mostly because they’ve probably got a better plan than what the militaries have cooked up. We aren’t winning, despite their boastful claims. We’re slowly losing. We need to get back to taking ground and reducing their numbers, en masse."
She folded her arms, looking concerned. “So why the interest in me?”
“You attract attention. Wittingly or not, and your talents…while unusual, are clearly powerful."
“Last I checked, your strategy for dealing with me was ‘blast the snake from high orbit, with lots of fire.’ That’s a pretty fast turnaround. So, why here, and why now?”
Kasfew pointed to a grate in the ground a short distance from the memorial, nearly hidden by the hedges that separated the slabs from the rest of the campus, almost like a leafy privacy wall. “My family helped construct this sprawling campus over the decades, or had a hand in restoring it. Many places aren’t marked on a map, or built over and forgotten. Places one could conduct business in private.”
Juni nudged her, her disdain plainly visible. “Nope. We’re walking. We have no ‘business’ to conduct in private, none whatsoever.”
Neska could say no. She could search out someplace on campus or even off-campus where they could do their research in secret.
Or, she could see what Kasfew wanted. “Hypothetically speaking, if we wanted a private spot for Cassia’s irregulars,” she added in a drawn-out way and drawing a chuckle from Syra, “where would be an optimal place?”
“The cisterns that keep this city sanitary and supply water cross pathways with thousands of years of history. There are old storage vaults of the monastery, and crypts for long-deceased members of the clergy. There are even portions of a subterranean city, though much of it is inaccessible, or impractical to reach.”
“And let me guess: your family has it mapped out,” Neska said, folding her arms.
“Underneath Rivilat is a treasure trove of history. I don't claim anyone has it even close to being fully mapped out. Yet. But I do have access to caches and hidden rooms, some of which are magically warded. These are, of course, highly prized and closely kept secrets of the Stoltz family. Little contingency rooms, if you will. All the founding families have them, each of them housing guarded secrets."
"Lots of secrets, huh?" Juni asked. "One would think if those secrets could save lives, they'd be revealed to all."
"Not everything contributes to the effort of survival. Some are for when we do win someday, and have something to fall back on to rebuild," he said in a surly tone.
Neska's first impression: the cost on this one would be far more than she'd be willing to pay. Her second impression was that this was how Kasfew likely maintained dominance, despite people's dislike of him. Holding power, or the appearance of it, was his strength.
“Nah. We don't need a moldering crypt to hang out in. C’mon, Cassia, I am sure there are far better options to start a study club.” Juni tried to pull away, but Neska held firm.
Neska tapped her tail rhythmically, thinking on it. “What's the cost of this access? I know there's a catch.”
“There always is,” Brent said with his lips curling back briefly to reveal sharp canines.
Kasfew shrugged. “A favor in the future.”
“An open-ended favor due anytime, with no restrictions on what it could be? Pass," Juni said, trying to budge Neska again. And again without success. “Cassia, don't. Not this time.”
This was too convenient. And she knew it would cost far more than a favor. “Like Juni said. We don't need that private a place for a study club. Sorry, Kasfew. Maybe in the future, we can revisit the discussion. I do have an appetite for secrets and odd knowledge."
The bird let out a cawing laugh. “Sure. You’ll be back, though. Anyone who becomes somebody here has friends in high places. And low places to hide.”
He took off in a flutter of orange wings, little ember trails fading in his wake. Neska pushed back the feathery strands in front of her face from the disruption of air, letting out an annoyed hiss. “I am starting to hate that bird.”
“What do you mean, just starting?” Brent replied with a subdued growl as he gazed skyward. “I've hated him since I got here. But he's a ‘valuable’ asset, so I was told not to ruffle feathers.”
“I didn't know being a shitbird qualifies him as a valuable asset,” Juni said scathingly.
“Worse, he’s keeping an eye on us,” Neska added with a click of her tongue. “We need a secret place. Someplace even he doesn't know about.”
“Why is that asshat watching us anyway?” Juni demanded. “I swear I saw him yesterday, outside Serkin's building.”
“Put a pin on it for now. We can do ritual work in our dorm. Alchemy, we’ll have to find a solution or leverage.” Neska glanced at the elementa still glaring at the departing firebird. “No attempt to tell him to cool off, with a well-deserved soaking?”
Syra let out a soft tsk. “Oh, I’d love to. Well, guess that leaves us two avenues and a search for a private place.”
“There are tons of places under our feet that are hidden. We need to find one that he doesn't know about,” Brent pointed out. “Still want those supplies for the ritual work and alchemy bench?”
Neska gave him a firm nod. “Yes. I'll need them eventually.” She then looked toward the archives and library. “I’ve still got research to do. Why don't we meet up later?”
“Alright. How about this afternoon, at my place? We can examine the dagger, do the ritual there?”
“Sounds good. Juni and I will head to the library, then meet you there,” Neska answered.
She glanced at the obelisk, letting out a soft sigh. It figured there would be more complications. There were always solutions; she just needed to be creative. Maybe her evolution and witch powers would be helpful.
She really wanted to test that familiar ability. The possibilities were limitless for what it could be. Maybe an extra set of eyes, someone who could explore safely? Someone who could find Kasfew's secrets, even?
A flash of light caught her attention. She slithered closer to the memorial obelisk, noting the names of so many others greater than her, having made incredible accomplishments long before she was born. What was that flash, just sunlight reflecting off the surface?
“Cassia, you coming?” Juni called out, having stopped Syra and Brent to chat for a little longer.
“In a minute,” Neska answered. She traced her fingers down the names.
Professor Gurigea? She found that odd. That professor was currently a frog monster, teaching general studies. The Awakened blurred the line of what was ‘dead’, especially if the soul endured. If she dies twice, does she get listed twice? Oh, that’d be some gallows humor. ‘They didn't kill me hard enough the first time’.
That would be a fitting epitaph.
She scanned the list of names. Her chest tightened when she saw no mention of Risha's name. Her fingers curled against the polished surface, and she leaned her forehead against the cool stone.
Risha deserved better than this. She deserved to be here, alive, helping Neska realize her full potential, leading the way for the other professors. Risha had grasped the threat and found a way to beat them.
She scrunched her eyes closed. I want you to be more than just a name on a stone, Risha.
After a silent few seconds, she opened her eyes, letting her gaze drift across the surface.
Then she locked focus on what she thought had been a blank name. She leaned in, tracing her finger against a symbol sketched with a black outline she should know.
A serpent with arms and wings along its back, forming a circular loop with its tail. Another interpretation of Ouroboros?
“Cassia, you're not gonna earn your name on that wall if you keep staring at it!” Juni called out behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to the mouse tapping her tail patiently on the paver stones. “You coming?”
“I…one second.” She turned her focus back onto the obelisk, looking back at the small symbol, as if to reassure herself.
Except, it was gone. What just happened?