“Curiosity killed the cat,” Fesgao remarked, his dark eyes unreadable.

Aly rolled her eyes. Why did everyone say that to her? “People always forget the rest of the saying,” she complained. “‘And satisfaction brought it back.”

- Tamora Pierce , Trickster's Choice

Sunday came and went, they had another study group, and this time Vivienne and Valens were also in attendance. Together with Lieseleta, they occupied the common room because the dorm room was too small. There were some envious looks because of the august presence of the princess but no one was courageous enough to either join or scold them.

Monday.

Mr. Glames looked up at the students slowly settling down in their seats. “I hope you had a good weekend because we will now study advanced usage of arcane languages. The Arcane Exhibition is nearing and I will not have my students embarrass themselves and me. The results of the academics test are out and can be seen on the blackboard. I must say that you did not let me down this time. There will be no remedial classes for the academic subjects- for now! If your results don’t match our expectations in the future, we might think about that again. But at the moment I am glad to say that it is not necessary to extend the classes. So with that out of the way let’s get back to arcane languages and their advantages for specific applications.”

And with that formula and annotations filled the board while Mireille groaned. “Could we not be rewarded for getting a good result? Why does he have to punish us.” She helplessly laid her head on the desk.

Alyssa pinched her beneath the table causing her to sit up quickly. The white-haired girl whispered, “Don’t cause a commotion and draw attention. You don’t really want to be punished do you?”

“Mh.” Mireille rubbed her eyes.

Carl Askander von Margrinar straightened his cuffs and looked back at them. The light reflected from his eyes made them seem like marbles. Lieseleta stiffened at that. And if someone had been looking at her at that moment Jera was taut as the string of a bow.

‘I don’t think you have the luxury of choosing your battles anymore.’ Asandria stood in the middle of the classroom, floating a few inches from the ground. Her diaphanous dress swept through some desks beside her.

The crystal with the entity burned a hole in her pocket. Alyssa did not dare leave it in the dormitory because who knew when one of her detractors would look to steal something of hers.

Later after lunch.

Mireille had a lot of time today. The studying marathon for the tests was finished and the study group meant that she had done more than she would normally manage. ‘Sword one’ was suspended because the teacher was busy helping the school with security measures. It had begun to snow again. Thick white flakes drifted from a lead grey sky swaying with the wind coming in gusts. She leaned on the column beside the academy's main building's entrance.

There was a restlessness that she had not known for a long time. After joining the army, fleeing for her life, learning magic, and attending a prestigious school she was never able to catch her breath. Now, today, the snowflakes had more momentum than her.

She tried to catch the drifting flakes with her tongue not caring about the incredulous look of an upperclassman leaving the academy at the same time. Laughing to herself she set off as the senior shook his head in amusement. Walking swiftly she arrived at the academy gates and looked towards the smoke and light of the city.

She had been hungry for as long as she knew. Not only for food, sometimes for attention, sometimes for success. She was never as desperate as some and her ambition was sometimes soft but it was always there. “Nirileth guide my feet.” The invisible moon pulled her along as she walked towards the distant city. This craving, this want, was her drive. Always wanting a bit more.

The empty fields were covered in snow and before she knew it she arrived at the gates. Without the carriage and its coat of arms, she was questioned by a cold-looking guardsman but with her uniform and an explanation, she soon was let into the winding streets of Kronenburg.

Plunging into the alleys and byways of the craftsman quarter she passed houses and shops. People hurried about swaddled in thick winter clothes hoods and scarves pulled about their heads. The windows were blind with frost. Carried along by the surging wind she arrived at a small plaza. The houses rose high into the dark skies. The heavens were obscured by endless falling snow. A woman stood before a disfigured statue of a figure in long robes holding an orb in her left hand. The right hand and the face were broken stone. The cold was penetrating through her uniform coat and Mireille raised her hands to her face to blow some warmth into her stiff fingers.

The bustle and noise of the city receded and only the wind remained. The sky tore open and a large moon hung overhead. “Nirileth, the one seeking beyond the horizon, covetous one. Give me strength. Let me be who I need to be.”

And as she prayed she felt cold lips brush her forehead and a voice spoke in her ear, “When you lose, when you give, when your desire is greatest. I will help.”

And when she came to she was alone. The statue was still there and the snow was falling but the moon was nowhere to be seen. She blinked and thought- ‘Did I fall asleep and dream it up?’ But there was this inexplicable feeling of warmth on her skin and the voice was still clear in her memory it did not seem to fade at all. Taking a few steps she reached the plinth the statue stood on. A faded, illegible inscription did not help her any further. Taking another of her precious coins she placed it at the base of the statue. “Thank you, my goddess. You never let me down.” She smiled and thought of the day she was separated from Rhys and Challon, but she did not sacrifice the golden coin then so she did not have anything to be angry about.

She turned around and walked back the way she came laughing at the antics of a group of children building a snowman. She amused the children by drawing arcs of lightning between her hands. With the exercises and her growing familiarity, she could feel the gate inside of her with greater facility than ever before for such small tricks no words were needed anymore. The lightning hummed and danced for her and the children laughed.

Magister’s office in the academy.

Magister Illimen directed a magical quill with some gestures while pacing before the large window. His dark robes brushed over the polished stone floor. The air carried the faint hint of tobacco smoke. A knock came from the door and with an irritable voice, the old magister called, “Yes? Who is it?”

The door opened and Calvin entered. “It’s me. Remember? We agreed to meet after lunch. Am I right in assuming you did not have any?”

“Mh.” An unfriendly grunt was all the response he got.

“We have to talk.” Calvin looked serious. “The bluestone peddling, breaking into the deep archives, assassinations. And worst of all.” He paused. “The extant councilors will be returning early because of this mess. Thankfully we will get a reprieve until after the exhibition but our methods will be restricted and I think they will do their level best to undermine our intentions.

“That is a given.” Illimen grabbed his pipe hanging forgotten in the air in a shadowed corner. With a whispered word a small flame glowed briefly and the pipe was lit again. Smoking contentedly he sighed. “When tobacco is the best thing you have left something is seriously going wrong.”

“At least it’s not spirits,” Calvin smirked.

“Want some?” Illimen grinned back. “Just joking. I will do everything but dull my senses at the moment. The day is short enough as it is. We have to increase the security for the two royal scions. After all one of them is very likely to become the next ruler.”

“Correct me but is Lieseleta not the last princess? Is not her sister still ahead of her?”

“There exist marriage arrangements for her that make that decision difficult. Additionally, the elder princess is, how to put it, somewhat unfit for the position. She is neither as intelligent nor as magically gifted. The ducal houses would not accept her. Lieseleta has both. If she has the ambition to match is the question. At the moment everything seems to favor her brother but the king is dissatisfied with him and suspects him of having a hand in the murder of the crown prince. If there were no other candidate he would swallow his rage and accept him for the good of the country but with Lieseleta there is an alternative even if it would be going against tradition.”

“I understand.” Calvin nodded. “It is mostly as I thought but I did not have much contact with the elder princess so I did not know her specific circumstances. So we will have to adapt.”

A national day of mourning was announced on the next day and set for the end of the week. Until then prayers would be said in all major temples.

In the Wisteria Dorm Alea fiddled with the Ayrton converter and blindly groped with her hand nearly punting a large glass vessel to the floor. Alyssa grabbed the teetering vessel and heaved a relieved sigh. “Alea! Please be more careful I think that could have been a major catastrophe!”

The large glassy container was half-filled with a blue crystal dust sparkling even when not exposed to a light source. A large parchment note read ‘Mana Crystal, finely ground. Origin: Leports Manufactorium, Kronenburg. Handle with care.’

Alea turned around and gave an apologetic smile. “The flask is spelled, it should not be damaged by a fall of fewer than ten meters.”

“That’s no reason to be careless. After all the fuss about this dust, I would not take any chances!”

Alea took the flask and opened it before pouring the blue sparkling dust into the converter.

Alyssa looked ready to intervene but nothing went wrong. The automaton with the porcelain mask had been opened up and a modified chest aperture stood ready to receive the bronze core. First came a metallic clanking sound then a rising hum before several rings of copper began to rotate freely, held by sparking power. Runes began to glow with an inner light. Alea smiled and grabbed the converter with a large tong and inserted it slowly before it ratcheted into a recess and was slowly pulled into the construct.

Gears that had long lain dormant began to whir everything was oiled and polished so there was no unnecessary grinding. The head jerked, the calipers on the fingers withdrew and were extended out again. The chest closed and the automaton righted itself before bowing deeply. A voice made of modulated static spoke “Smiling Butler One greets the mistress.”

Cyrus hissed at the metal man and regarded him suspiciously.

“I remember Butler One from the days of my grandfather. He made it and tinkered with it when he was dismissed back to Grunewald.” Alea rubbed her forehead. “I had forgotten. And still, there are many details and memories missing. How do I know that something should be there but isn’t? Don’t ask, I don’t know. Butler One was the most advanced of my grandfather's works. I don’t know how it measures up to today's standards but I am confident in his skills.”

With the slightest clanking and ratcheting sound, the automaton stood and went towards a corner where it folded its arms before the chest and then stopped.

“He was once designed to help me defend myself. Sadly he was not ready in time. The crystal core had just been acquired and now the core never really was used. I don’t know what happened to it.”

Alyssa listened and looked at Alea compassionately before hugging the smaller girl. “That you can repair him is really astounding you should be proud. And it is good to have another means of protection.”

Sunlight glinted on the porcelain mask.

Iseret returned to her duties in the dorms the next day and did not mention anything other than that she would remain with them for the time being.

A rash of brutal murders shook the lower city and the guard, as well as the forces of the great churches, tried to investigate. Strange creatures were sighted in the dark alleys and sewers.

Vanessa recuperated and called her Shadowdemon who miraculously had still been in this plane of existence.

The Reborn under Kadira were lying low but their hands extended in the darkness and consolidated their grip on the underworld piece by piece.

Somewhere in the academy.

Vivienne stood against the school building and the cold wind blew her green-white tresses into a tangle. Before her stood Melissa, the ill-fated girlfriend to be of the failed duelist Otto.

“Please help me. I don’t know anyone else who could. If I ask the academy my parents will find out and I will be expelled.” Melissa’s voice tapered off.

“Nothing is free and power least of all.” Vivienne looked at her contemptuously. “If you continue you will damage your magic then your mind and finally it will cost your life. Why should I invest in a damaged tool?”

“Can you help me get rid of the addiction?”

“That is a good question. I probably could but why should you follow me then?”

Melissa was tempted to reply with something like ‘Gratitude and promises or oaths’ but wisely kept silent.

“I think fear might be the best bet.” Vivienne looked at her again. “I will help you, you will serve me. If you don’t do what I want you to you will find out that my means are sometimes cruel.”

Melissa shuddered. “I swear it.”

“Don’t ever forget.” And she handed Melissa a small velvet pouch that shifted with the nearly inaudible sound of shifting sand…or dust.

The wind pulled at Vivienne's hair and only her smiling mouth could be seen, white teeth glinting in the late afternoon sun.