The following week swept across Avalon in a relentless blur of movement and mounting tension as every corner of the continent seemed to pulse with new activity, fresh uncertainty, and the lingering aftershocks left behind by the Siege of Caerleon, and though the city itself had settled into a fragile semblance of calm upon the surface, it was the sort of stillness that felt deeply unnatural, the kind that came before a storm finally broke overhead.
The Colors had largely withdrawn from the streets for the time being, their presence throughout the outer ring diminishing considerably following the newly appointed Sheriff's aggressive mandate to increase Tower patrols and Authority presence across the poorer districts of the city, forcing the gangs back into the shadows where they now moved with noticeably greater caution than before, while Libertas too had seemingly vanished overnight from the undercity routes and safehouses they once frequented so openly, though unlike the Colors, their retreat had not merely been born from tactical caution alone, but from fear toward the new threat now seated within the Authority itself.
What had not slowed in the slightest, however, was the coming election, which had swiftly consumed Caerleon so thoroughly that politics now bled into nearly every visible corner of the city, from banners stretched between buildings and campaign posters plastered across brick walls to the massive holographic billboards flooding entire districts in shifting neon light while smiling faces of candidates loomed high above the streets beside carefully crafted promises meant to inspire hope in some and disgust in others.
Rally venues across the city had already sold out weeks in advance while debates, speeches, and public appearances became the primary topic dominating cafés, taverns, transport stations, and dinner tables alike, leaving Caerleon itself holding its collective breath in anticipation for what many had already begun calling the most important election in modern Avalon history.
For the students of Excalibur Academy, however, such matters remained distant concerns compared to the lingering wounds left behind by the Siege itself, because although a new term had officially begun and the academy grounds once again filled with the familiar colors and banners of all Five Houses, the shadow hanging over the institution had not faded with the passing weeks.
Students returning to Caerleon had spent the remainder of their break replacing damaged supplies, purchasing new uniforms, replenishing books and parchment lost during the fighting, and salvaging whatever belongings had survived the chaos that overtook the city, though even amidst the bustle of preparation and the excitement that usually accompanied the start of a new year, a noticeable heaviness lingered over the crowds gathering at the main stations.
As the trains rolled into the platforms throughout the morning and students flooded the terminals in streams of crimson, grays, sapphire, gold, and white, the difference from previous years became impossible to ignore, because despite the crowds and noise, there were simply fewer faces than before.
The usual excitement and youthful energy that once defined the beginning of term had been replaced by quieter expressions, subdued conversations, and lingering uncertainty shared not only amongst the students themselves, but amongst the professors watching from the station platforms as well, all of them painfully aware that the aftermath of Burgess' betrayal had reached far beyond the Tower and Caerleon alone.
Headmaster Blaise had anticipated the losses long before the term officially began, knowing from the moment the full scale of the Siege became public knowledge that many families across Avalon would no longer view Excalibur solely as the continent's most prestigious magical academy, but also as the site of one of the bloodiest conflicts in recent memory. Some parents had withdrawn their children entirely out of fear, while others transferred them into rival institutions believing distance alone might somehow protect them from the growing instability spreading throughout Avalon, and though Blaise understood their reasoning, it did little to ease the bitterness festering within him as he watched the consequences unfold in real time.
Burgess had not merely damaged the Tower nor scarred Caerleon itself, but had inflicted wounds upon Excalibur that might take decades to fully heal, a reality that continued to weigh heavily upon both Blaise and Mayor Ramonda alike as they struggled to hold together the fragile remnants of the city and institution they had spent their lives protecting.
Although the academy's numbers had dwindled drastically in the aftermath of the Siege, hope had not vanished from Excalibur entirely, because with the beginning of the new term came fresh waves of students arriving not only from every corner of Avalon, but from distant kingdoms, far-off territories, and even worlds beyond the realm itself. Despite the stain now marring the Excalibur name and the fear still surrounding Caerleon in the eyes of many across the realm, the academy's legacy had endured through centuries of war, catastrophe, and political upheaval, and there remained countless allies unwilling to abandon what the institution represented.
King Uther himself had publicly reaffirmed his support for Excalibur while former alumni, nobles, influential clans, and even several Visionaries had begun lending their voices toward restoring faith in the school, much in the same way others now desperately struggled to restore what little trust remained in the Clock Tower after Burgess' betrayal.
The wounds left behind by the Siege would not heal quickly.
Some perhaps never would.
Yet even so, the scars left upon both Caerleon and Excalibur stood as proof that they had endured the unthinkable and survived it. They had stared directly into the jaws of damnation and emerged bloodied, broken, but still standing.
As evening settled over the city and daylight slowly faded beyond the skyline of Caerleon, Castle Excalibur gradually came alive beneath the glow of crystal lanterns and enchanted chandeliers, warm amber light washing over ancient stone corridors while students flooded steadily toward the Great Hall in streams of color and conversation. Between the returning students and those who had remained behind throughout the summer, the castle itself once again brimmed with life as idle chatter echoed across the halls, stories traded between friends about travels, family visits, disastrous holidays, and everything in between. Laughter still existed here, quieter than before perhaps, but alive nonetheless.
To Godric, Jeanne, Rowena, Helga, and Salazar, the atmosphere carried with it an almost painful sense of nostalgia, a fleeting reminder of simpler days when the greatest concerns in their lives revolved around unfinished assignments, sneaking through restricted corridors after curfew, and avoiding detention from irritated professors. As Godric stepped into the Great Hall alongside the others, his crimson eyes drifted instinctively toward a cluster of First Year students gathered near one of the entrances, their faces bright with wonder and excitement while Professor Duchannes enthusiastically regaled them with stories surrounding Excalibur's founding and the legendary deeds of the Five Heroes.
For a moment, Godric simply watched them. Everything about it felt impossibly distant now.
Ever since the first day he stepped off the train and laid eyes upon Castle Excalibur for the very first time, it felt as though an entire lifetime had passed in the span of a single year. Back then, he had entered the academy as little more than a wide-eyed boy enthralled by magic, heroism, and adventure. Now, when he looked at his own reflection, he no longer saw that same child staring back at him, but someone wearier, harder, carrying invisible scars earned through bloodshed and loss that no student their age should ever have been forced to bear.
And judging from the expressions scattered throughout the Great Hall that evening, he knew he was not alone in feeling it. The five friends eventually gathered in their usual place despite belonging to different Houses, though unlike previous years, the professors seemed far less concerned with enforcing strict separation between the students. Perhaps it was temporary leniency born from the circumstances, or perhaps after everything that had happened, even the faculty understood the comfort found in familiar faces and old friendships. Whatever the reason, none of them complained as they settled together once more in the place that had become theirs over the years.
The tables themselves had been prepared with a feast grand enough to rival celebrations from before the Siege, no doubt the result of Chef Gusteau and the slaves working tirelessly throughout the day to ensure the returning students received at least one proper welcome back to the academy.
Massive platters of roasted meats gleamed beneath the crystal lights while steaming casseroles, buttery breads, rich stews, fresh salads, pastas coated in fragrant sauces, and trays of desserts stretched almost endlessly across the tables, some dishes so extravagant that even the older students admitted they had never once seen them served during ordinary school meals before.
Helga, naturally, wasted absolutely no time.
Her plate had become a mountainous disaster of piled meats, bread, potatoes, pastries, and whatever else she could physically fit onto it, and she ate with the sort of determined enthusiasm normally reserved for starving soldiers returning from war, stuffing her face so aggressively that even nearby students had begun openly staring in both fascination and horror.
Beside her, Salazar swirled the drink within his goblet with visible amusement dancing behind his emerald eyes while Rowena sat to Helga's right, wearing the exhausted expression of someone who had long since accepted that attempting to stop her dear friend from inhaling entire kitchens worth of food was ultimately a pointless endeavor. Jeanne meanwhile covered her mouth politely while soft laughter escaped her lips at Helga's relentless appetite, and Godric, seated amongst them all, could only smile nervously while already feeling his own appetite beginning to disappear beneath the overwhelming flood of memories and emotions that came with finally returning home to Excalibur once more.
"By Fornac's gummy gumdrops, Chef Gusteau really outdid himself this time!" Helga exclaimed through cheeks stuffed so full that bits of food nearly came flying back onto the table. She immediately reached for another helping with all the restraint of a starving animal finally let loose upon civilization. "Gods, this is amazing!"
"Helga, for the love of reason and basic dignity," Rowena muttered while pinching the bridge of her nose, "would it truly kill you to behave like a civilized person for at least five consecutive minutes?"
"My dear Rowena," Salazar said smoothly while delicately spearing a cherry tomato with his fork, "by now you really ought to understand that Helga ceased being merely a girl long ago and instead evolved into something far more terrifying." He popped the tomato into his mouth before continuing with visible amusement dancing behind his emerald eyes. "She is appetite incarnate. Insatiability granted mortal flesh, albeit packaged most misleadingly within the body of a rather petite young lady."
Helga blinked once before pointing her turkey leg toward him. "I have absolutely no idea what you just said," she declared proudly, "but I'm choosing to believe it was a compliment."
Salazar inclined his head faintly. "More or less."
Helga immediately resumed demolishing the turkey leg in her hands.
"That aside," Salazar continued while lifting his goblet, "I do hope your little excursion proved as informative as it was emotionally fulfilling." His gaze settled meaningfully upon Jeanne. "Discovering one belongs to one of Avalon's Imperial Families is not exactly the sort of revelation one processes over afternoon tea."
Jeanne looked momentarily caught off guard before a faint blush spread across her cheeks and she nodded softly.
"It was… enlightening, I guess." A quiet laugh escaped her, though uncertainty still lingered beneath it. "Honestly, it still feels surreal. One moment I thought I was ordinary, and the next I discover I belong to one of the oldest noble bloodlines in Avalon." She shook her head faintly while looking down at her plate. "It's overwhelming in ways I still don't think I fully understand."
"I can't say I'm surprised," Rowena replied gently. "That sort of revelation would shake anyone." A soft smile touched her lips afterward. "Still, what matters now isn't necessarily where you came from, but what you choose to do with that knowledge moving forward."
Her expression brightened slightly. "Although from everything I've heard, Carcassonne sounds beautiful. Far removed from all the smoke, industry, and noise swallowing the rest of Avalon." She rested her chin lightly against her hand. "Honestly, it sounds like the perfect place to disappear to for a while."
"You really have no idea," Godric chimed in while cutting into his roast. "At first, I'll admit I felt a little uneasy hearing Lady Genevieve talk so casually about how fiercely House D'Arc protects their territory while more or less ignoring the suffering beyond it." His crimson eyes softened thoughtfully. "But once we actually saw the place…"
He paused briefly. "The people there live peacefully, Rowena. Truly peacefully. Everyone born within Carcassonne benefits from the wealth the D'Arc family built over generations. Education, healthcare, food, protection, all of it's provided without question." His gaze drifted slightly as he recalled it. "If someone falls into hardship, the family steps in immediately. It almost felt like some untouched sanctuary hidden away from the rest of Avalon." A faint sadness crept into his words afterward. "Beautiful in one sense, but tragic in another."
"The contradiction of civilization itself, dear friend," Salazar interjected smoothly while swirling the drink within his goblet before taking another measured sip. "For some to flourish in comfort, others inevitably bear the burden elsewhere. Such prosperity cannot realistically extend equally across the world, no matter how noble the intentions behind it may be."
His gaze shifted back toward Jeanne. "I do not doubt your family genuinely wished to protect their people, nor do I doubt the citizens of Carcassonne adore them for it, but history has repeatedly demonstrated that selective compassion often creates as much suffering as it alleviates."
Jeanne nodded slowly.
"You're not wrong," she admitted quietly. "My father believed the same thing." Her eyes lowered toward the table once more. "From what I've been told, it was one of the reasons he clashed so often with my grandfather." A faint pause followed. "My mother just happened to be the final breaking point."
Helga finally swallowed the enormous mouthful she had been wrestling with before immediately pointing her fork toward Jeanne.
"Well," she declared matter-of-factly, "your dad made the right choice."
Jeanne looked up in surprise.
"Because if he hadn't," Helga continued with a grin, "you wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't all be friends."
The sincerity behind the words softened Jeanne almost instantly. A warm smile spread across her face. "I guess you're right."
It was then that Helga noticed Salazar's attention drifting elsewhere down the length of the table, his normally composed expression carrying the faintest trace of softness while his eyes remained fixed somewhere beyond them. Curious, Helga followed his line of sight until her gaze landed squarely upon Helena sitting farther along the Ignis table, her long auburn hair catching the crystal light beautifully while she laughed softly amongst a group of younger students gathered around her.
Immediately, a wicked grin spread across Helga's face.
"You know," she began far too innocently, "nobody's actually stopping you from walking over there and planting a proper long wet kiss on her."
Salazar nearly inhaled his drink. The elegant Slytherin choked violently on his juice as Jeanne and Rowena immediately collapsed into barely restrained laughter while Godric looked between them all in complete confusion.
"By Scáthach's mercy," Salazar sputtered between coughs while thumping furiously against his own chest. "Helga, do you possess even the faintest concept of restraint?" He grabbed a napkin quickly and wiped the drink threatening to spill down his chin. "One day, I swear before the Gods themselves, you shall be directly responsible for my untimely demise."
Helga burst into delighted laughter.
"Oh, come on, Sal," she teased shamelessly. "How long exactly are you planning on pretending nothing's going on?" Her grin widened further. "At this point half the academy's already placing bets."
Godric blinked.
"Wait." He looked genuinely lost now. "Bets? I'm sorry, am I missing something important here?"
"Don't worry about it," Rowena replied far too quickly while attempting and failing to hide her amusement. "Helga's just entertaining herself again."
"It is absolutely none of your business," Salazar snapped immediately, composure slipping just enough to betray genuine embarrassment. "Nor is it anyone else's business for that matter." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "And who precisely is holding this alleged betting pool?"
"Cú." Both Helga and Rowena answered simultaneously without missing a beat.
Salazar went completely blank. He blinked once. Then twice. Slowly, very slowly, his head turned down the table until his eyes met Cú Chulainn's from several seats away. The young Irishman wore the broadest grin imaginable while casually lifting his goblet toward Salazar in cheerful acknowledgement.
Salazar stared at him for several long seconds before finally muttering beneath his breath with all the venom of a deeply betrayed aristocrat.
"Whoreson." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Absolute whoreson."
Godric, still completely oblivious to the entire exchange and the betting pool apparently operating behind Salazar's back, merely shook his head in confusion before returning his attention to the Great Hall around them. Yet as his gaze wandered across the crowded chamber filled with laughter, conversation, and the warm amber glow of enchanted crystal sconces drifting beneath the illusionary night sky overhead, his eyes eventually found themselves drawn toward the elevated circular table positioned near the far end of the hall.
Unlike the long house tables crowded with students, the round table stood apart with an air of quiet authority, surrounded by tall-backed wooden chairs intricately carved with the emblems of the Five Houses. The dark polished wood glimmered beneath the floating lights while the enchanted ceiling above reflected constellations that shimmered faintly across its surface like stars dancing atop still water.
The Visionaries Table.
Unlike the previous term, every seat now stood occupied.
Arthur and Artoria Pendragon sat together at the Ignis side of the table, their striking resemblance made all the more apparent beneath the crystal glow, though where Arthur carried himself with the relaxed confidence and easy grin of a born hero, Artoria remained composed and unreadable beside him, her icy blue eyes fixed forward with all the warmth of a drawn blade. Arthur noticed Godric looking their way first and offered him an easy nod accompanied by a faint grin while his sister merely held his gaze for a brief moment before returning to her drink without expression.
Beside them sat Genji Shimada of Terra, who offered a small respectful bow of acknowledgment the moment his eyes met Godric's across the hall.
Godric returned the gesture with a faint smile of his own, though the expression quickly faltered the moment his gaze shifted toward the fourth figure seated beside Genji.
Something about the young man immediately unsettled him.
He appeared roughly the same age as the Pendragon twins and Genji, though unlike the others, whose presence carried either confidence or quiet authority, there was something strangely predatory about the way this one watched him. Not openly hostile. Not cold. If anything, the look in his dark eyes carried curiosity more than malice, though it was the sort of curiosity a wolf might possess while studying something wounded from the edge of the tree line.
Like a beast carefully sizing up prey.
The young man's jet-black hair framed pale features sharpened beneath the amber glow while his black eyes remained locked onto Godric with unnerving focus. His fingers rested clasped together before him while a faint simper lingered across his lips, subtle enough to appear almost polite were it not for the strange hunger sitting quietly behind it.
Godric frowned faintly.
"Hey, Salazar," he said, drawing the Slytherin's attention before subtly gesturing toward the Visionaries Table with a tilt of his chin. "The guy sitting beside Genji. Who exactly is he?" His crimson eyes narrowed slightly. "I know I've seen him around before, but I don't think we've ever actually met."
Salazar glanced over his shoulder toward the table and the moment his eyes landed upon the black-haired young man, an audible groan escaped him.
"Oh, splendid," he muttered dryly while rolling his eyes. "And here I was foolishly hoping fortune might spare us from discussing him this evening."
He returned his attention toward Godric with visible annoyance lingering across his face.
"That," Salazar said, "is Corvo Attano, the Ferrum Visionary and quite possibly the single most insufferable individual I have ever had the displeasure of encountering within this academy."
Rowena immediately raised an eyebrow.
"That's unusually harsh coming from you," she observed with visible amusement. "Normally you make one snide remark about someone you dislike and move on with your life." She laughed softly afterward. "Honestly, I thought only Údar managed to irritate you that much."
"Oh, believe me," Salazar replied while taking a measured sip from his goblet, "Corvo is infinitely worse." His emerald eyes narrowed faintly. "The man possesses an ego so catastrophically oversized that I sincerely doubt even all Nine Realms combined could physically contain it."
Helga nearly snorted bread through her nose laughing.
"No way," she grinned while tearing apart a dinner roll. "There's actually someone out there that gives Salazar the creeps? Oh, this is priceless."
Salazar ignored her entirely.
"He genuinely believes himself to be some grand dark lord pulled straight from a cheap fantasy serial," he continued with mounting disdain. "The way children play pretend knights and villains in storybooks, Corvo approaches entirely unironically." He gestured irritably with one hand. "It would almost be amusing were it not simultaneously so deeply embarrassing to witness."
Godric blinked once.
"But he's still a Visionary," he pointed out carefully. "The way you describe him makes him sound less like one of the strongest students in Avalon and more like some theatre actor with delusions of grandeur."
"Oh, do not misunderstand me, Gryffindor," Salazar replied immediately. "The man is absolutely ridiculous, but I would never question his strength." His expression darkened slightly afterward. "Especially not his influence within the Congregation."
Jeanne's eyes widened slightly. "Wait, he's part of the Congregation too?"
"All the Visionaries sit at the High Table," Godric explained before Salazar could answer. "Helena told me about it once." He glanced back toward Corvo briefly. "The five strongest students in Excalibur also happen to lead the five most powerful Clans in the academy."
Helga paused midway through biting into another bread roll.
"Honestly," she muttered, "that still sounds insanely unfair when you actually say it out loud."
Salazar let out a soft scoff.
"My dear Helga," Salazar replied dryly while lifting his goblet once more, "fairness has never once been a prerequisite for power, nor has merit ever been the deciding factor for who ultimately rises above the masses."
He gave a faint shrug afterward, though the annoyance lingering across his face remained firmly intact. "Furthermore, the primary reason I hold such a profound dislike toward Corvo is because the man has spent the better part of two years relentlessly attempting to recruit me into his Clan." His emerald eyes narrowed faintly. "Evidently the concept of rejection is one he finds personally offensive."
Godric's gaze sharpened immediately at that.
"He's been trying to recruit you?" he asked while leaning slightly closer across the table. "What exactly do you know about his Clan?"
Salazar's expression darkened just a fraction before he leaned forward as well, lowering his tone despite the noise filling the Great Hall around them.
"Very little," he admitted. "Only that the Clan calls itself Shadow Garden, and unlike most factions within the Congregation, they rarely make public appearances, even during official gatherings." He rested his chin lightly against his hand. "Truthfully, they resemble ghosts more than an actual Clan. Masks, codenames, layers upon layers of secrecy, the sort of theatrics Corvo undoubtedly believes make him appear mysterious rather than deeply embarrassing."
Helga snorted loudly into her goblet.
"Still," Salazar continued while ignoring her completely, "despite their absurd presentation, they possess a rather formidable reputation both within and beyond Excalibur's walls." His gaze flickered briefly back toward the Visionaries Table. "From what little I've gathered, every member within Shadow Garden is frighteningly capable, and their exploits have spread far beyond the academy itself."
Rowena frowned faintly.
"Beyond the academy?" she repeated.
"I think what Salazar's trying to say," Helga cut in while chewing through the final piece of chicken she'd stolen from someone else's plate, "is that they operate kinda like us." She swallowed before pointing vaguely with the bone. "They take Contracts through the Congregation for people outside Excalibur."
"Precisely," Salazar replied while inclining his head toward her. "Spot on, my dear Helga." He took another measured sip before continuing. "In fact, Shadow Garden was operating throughout Avalon long before the Congregation extended its influence beyond the academy grounds." A faint look of distaste crossed his face. "I would even argue they possess notoriety comparable to the original Midnighters under Asriel Valerian himself, which, considering both he and Corvo occupied the position of Ferrum Visionary, is an irony not entirely lost on me."
Jeanne looked thoughtfully toward Corvo once more before turning back toward Salazar.
"If you don't mind me asking…" she began carefully, "why exactly have you refused him for so long?" Her brows furrowed slightly. "I mean, if he's a Visionary, sits upon the High Table, and commands a Clan with that sort of influence, then for someone like him to personally pursue you so persistently…" She hesitated briefly. "Wouldn't most students consider that an honor?"
Salazar stared at her blankly for several seconds.
Then he slowly lowered his goblet.
"Jeanne," he said with complete sincerity, "I would genuinely rather shove a sharpened pencil through my nostril and manually lobotomize myself than willingly spend prolonged periods beneath Corvo Attano's authority."
Godric stifled a laugh. Rowena immediately covered her mouth to suppress hers while Helga burst into loud cackling beside them. Salazar, meanwhile, remained perfectly serious.
"The man speaks exclusively in cryptic nonsense and dramatic monologues," he continued with growing irritation. "Every conversation somehow devolves into him speaking about shadows, destiny, hidden truths, or mankind's inevitable descent into darkness as though he were auditioning for a stage play written by a deeply troubled teenager."
Helga was practically wheezing now.
"And the worst part," Salazar added while pointing accusingly toward the Visionaries Table, "is that he says all of it with complete sincerity." He looked physically pained by the memory alone. "Do you have any idea how positively exhausting it is listening to a man narrate his own existence every waking moment of the day?"
"Okay," Godric admitted through poorly concealed laughter, "that actually sounds kinda hilarious."
"It is not hilarious," Salazar replied immediately. "It is psychological warfare disguised as conversation."
Rowena slowly lifted an eyebrow, a wry grin tugging at the corner of her lips while she twirled her fork idly through the pasta on her plate.
"You know," she said thoughtfully, "if you hadn't specifically mentioned Corvo by name, I genuinely would have assumed you were giving us an extraordinarily vivid description of yourself."
For a brief second, silence lingered around the table. Then Helga burst into roaring laughter so violently she nearly slammed both hands against the table while Jeanne immediately dissolved into helpless giggling across from her. Even Godric doubled over slightly, trying and failing to suppress the grin spreading across his face.
"Oh, Gods," Helga wheezed between laughs, "Rowena actually got him. That was brutal."
Salazar visibly recoiled in theatrical horror, one hand flying dramatically to his chest as though he had just suffered a mortal wound.
"Madam," he declared with all the outrage of a deeply betrayed aristocrat, "what a staggeringly cruel and vicious accusation to level against moi." He shook his head slowly while narrowing his emerald eyes at her. "Honestly, Rowena, I expected better from you."
****
The sharp, delicate tinkling of crystal against silver carried cleanly across the Great Hall, drawing the attention of every student toward the elongated professors' table positioned upon the raised platform overlooking the chamber. Conversation gradually softened into murmurs before dying away entirely as eyes shifted toward the faculty seated beneath the warm glow of floating crystal sconces and the enchanted night sky overhead.
Many of the familiar faces remained present.
Professor Lagduf, the towering orc, sat broad with a jovial air around him near the center while Eridan, the dwarf lounged with his usual unreadable calm beside Lotho, the halfling who was in the midst of wiping down his cutleries, polishing them to a shine. Rasputin stroked thoughtfully at his beard while Agatha sat elegantly composed nearby, Kyar, the tiger therian, whispering something beneath her breath to Serfence that earned the professor a visible look of annoyance. Workner offered a nervous smile, rubbing the back of his head as a fresh bandage adorned his cheek, possibly from one of his many dungeon delves, while Ryan leaned lazily back in his chair with folded arms and a tired expression.
Yet among them sat a face many students had not seen in quite some time.
The man seated beside Headmaster Blaise carried an immediately commanding presence even while remaining perfectly still. He was broad-shouldered and powerfully built beneath an immaculately tailored three-piece suit of earthy brown layered over a crisp white shirt and scarlet tie. His blond hair was neatly combed back into a ponytail while a Donovan-styled beard and mustache framed rigid, handsome features that might have appeared intimidating were it not for the warmth resting quietly within his golden eyes.
Then Headmaster Blaise rose from his seat.
Almost instantly, the hall fell silent.
The elderly headmaster stood tall in robes of sapphire blue and white while his long pristine beard cascaded nearly to his waist beneath the amber crystal light, his sapphire eyes sweeping calmly across the countless students gathered before him.
"A very fine and heartfelt evening to each and every one of you," Blaise began, his voice carrying effortlessly throughout the hall, "and welcome once more to the esteemed halls of Excalibur Academy, to both the students returning home and those joining us for the very first time."
His gaze lingered thoughtfully across the ocean of young faces before him.
"I imagine many of you have already noticed by now that a number of seats once occupied by former classmates now remain empty." His expression softened faintly. "Faces once familiar to you now linger only as memories carried forward by those who remain behind."
A solemn quiet settled across the hall at once. Even the younger students who had not lived through the Siege seemed to sense the heaviness resting beneath the old headmaster's words.
"Now," Blaise continued gently, "the purpose of my speech this evening is not to reopen old wounds nor burden you with grief already carried heavily enough within your hearts." His hands folded calmly behind his back. "Rather, it is to remind each of you that while we honor those we lost, we must not cast judgment upon those who chose to leave Excalibur behind."
His gaze lowered slightly.
"Whether their departure came from fear, caution, pain, unwilling circumstance, or simple necessity, resentment serves no purpose here. We cannot demand courage from those already wounded by tragedy." A faint pause followed. "We can only offer understanding."
The silence deepened further.
"You see, my dear students," Blaise continued after a moment, "life itself is, in many ways, a journey walked along a solitary road." His sapphire eyes glimmered softly beneath the enchanted starlight overhead. "No matter how blessed we may be, regardless of wealth, strength, birth, or circumstance, it is ultimately a path each of us must walk alone."
His expression grew thoughtful.
"Of course, there are moments when our paths intertwine with others. Friends. Family. Lovers. Teachers. Those we cherish most dearly." A faint smile touched his lips. "And for a time, we walk together believing perhaps those roads shall remain forever joined."
The smile faded gently. "But life rarely grants such permanence."
Across the hall, students listened with unwavering attention.
"Some individuals enter our lives only long enough to teach us a single invaluable lesson before departing once more," Blaise said. "Others remain beside us for years, offering love, guidance, companionship, and joy." His gaze darkened faintly afterward. "And then there are those who wound us deeply. Those who betray us, scar us, and leave behind pain we carry for the rest of our lives."
He rested one hand lightly against the table before him.
"Yet even those scars possess purpose," he continued quietly. "For through hardship we gain wisdom. Through suffering we gain understanding. Through pain we discover resilience."
A pause.
"Lamar Burgess left scars upon this city," Blaise said firmly. "Upon this academy. Upon every one of us gathered here tonight."
At the mention of Burgess, the atmosphere within the hall shifted noticeably. Several professors visibly darkened at the mention of the former Director's name, none more so than Serfence and Ryan whose expressions hardened almost immediately.
"But despite all that has happened," Blaise continued while lifting his head once more, "we remain here."
Soft murmurs spread faintly through the hall.
"We endured." His words strengthened. "We prevailed. And most importantly of all…" A small smile returned to his face. "We survived."
The atmosphere softened slightly afterward, though emotion still lingered heavily throughout the chamber.
"And I firmly believe, with every fiber of my being," Blaise declared warmly, "that Excalibur Academy shall rise again just as many of you already have."
This time, genuine applause began spreading softly across the hall. Blaise allowed it to settle before clapping his hands together once.
"Now then," he said far more lightly, "before Chef Gusteau begins sending me increasingly threatening letters regarding untouched desserts, I would first like to reintroduce a member of our faculty."
He gestured smoothly toward the broad-shouldered man seated beside him.
"To many of our older students, this gentleman requires no introduction whatsoever." Blaise's smile widened faintly. "But for the rest of you, allow me the honor of presenting Professor Ludwig Van Hohenheim."
The blonde man rose from his seat immediately afterward. He adjusted his glasses calmly before offering the hall a polite bow, earning a sizable round of applause almost at once.
"Professor Hohenheim," Blaise continued proudly, "has served as Excalibur's professor of Alchemic Studies for many years and remains one of Avalon's most brilliant alchemical minds." He glanced toward the man beside him with visible amusement. "Though I suspect his colleagues at the Atlas Institute would argue the term brilliant remains something of an understatement."
Hohenheim chuckled warmly and waved the praise away with visible embarrassment before sitting back down.
****
At Godric's table, Rowena's eyes widened considerably.
"So that's Ludwig Van Hohenheim," she whispered while looking back toward her friends. "His research papers are practically everywhere within the Atlas Institute archives." Excitement crept visibly into her expression. "Gods, some people genuinely consider him one of the greatest alchemists alive."
Godric blinked in confusion.
"Wait," he said while scratching the back of his head, "Alchemic Studies?" He frowned slightly. "I don't remember anything like that being on our curriculum."
"That," Salazar replied smoothly, "would be because Alchemy is reserved exclusively for Fourth Years and above." A grin slowly spread across his face. "And I must confess, I am positively ecstatic."
Helga snorted immediately. "Of course, you are."
Salazar ignored her.
"Potions already fascinated me enough as is," he continued while straightening slightly in his seat. "But Alchemy…" His emerald eyes gleamed with unmistakable excitement. "Alchemy is an entirely different beast altogether."
"It's also far more complicated than you're making it sound," Rowena corrected gently. "Alchemy isn't simply tossing ingredients into a cauldron and hoping you accidentally create liquid gold." She folded her arms thoughtfully. "It requires deep understanding of chemistry, magical theory, transmutation, material composition, and the fundamental structures that make up reality itself."
Salazar merely waved a dismissive hand.
"A slight learning curve at worst," he declared confidently. "Nothing someone such as myself cannot overcome with relative ease."
Helga slowly turned toward him with a deeply unimpressed look.
"Right," she said dryly, "and Corvo's the one with the massive ego?"
Salazar shot her an immediate scowl while Godric and Jeanne struggled not to laugh all over again.
****
"Alas," Headmaster Blaise said at last while raising a single finger, "it would appear that in my old age I have rather carelessly neglected to address one final matter of importance before we proceed further into the evening."
The warmth that had softened his earlier speech gradually faded as he spoke, replaced by something sterner while his sapphire eyes slowly drifted across the Great Hall before eventually settling upon the Visionaries Table itself. The change in his expression was subtle, but unmistakable, and Godric immediately noticed the way the atmosphere around the chamber shifted beneath it.
Around the circular table, the Visionaries themselves seemed to stiffen almost instinctively beneath the old Headmaster's gaze. Arthur's easygoing smile diminished, Artoria's icy expression sharpened further, Genji straightened slightly in his seat, while Corvo's faint simper vanished altogether as he regarded Blaise in complete silence.
"I am certain," Blaise continued while folding his hands neatly behind his back, "that many of you have already observed the rather dramatic changes currently unfolding across Avalon in recent months. With the Tower fractured, weakened, and suffering perhaps the lowest level of public confidence in modern history, it would seem that much of the populace has begun searching elsewhere for guidance, security, and authority."
Soft murmurs spread gradually throughout the hall as students exchanged uncertain glances with one another.
"And within that vacuum," Blaise said carefully, "certain organizations have seen fit to elevate themselves into positions of increasing prominence far beyond the walls of this academy."
Nobody needed clarification regarding who he meant.
The Congregation Of Clans.
Blaise's expression hardened further.
"As I have openly declared once before, and shall continue to declare for as long as I remain Headmaster of this institution, I neither recognize nor condone the authority they claim to wield, nor the influence they continue to accumulate through unsanctioned means."
He adjusted his glasses calmly along the bridge of his nose before continuing. "Now, let me be perfectly clear on this matter. Both Excalibur Academy and the city of Caerleon owe a considerable debt of gratitude toward the students who displayed remarkable courage during the Siege, and I would never diminish the sacrifices many of them made in defense of innocent lives."
His gaze remained fixed firmly upon the Visionaries as he spoke. "However, bravery alone does not place one above scrutiny, nor does heroism grant legitimacy to organizations operating entirely outside the laws and institutional oversight of Avalon itself."
The tension thickening around the Visionaries Table became palpable beneath those words.
"By both legal definition and institutional standing," Blaise declared firmly, "the entity known solely as the Congregation Of Clans remains unsanctioned, unauthorized, and rogue."
This time the murmurs throughout the hall swelled considerably louder as students from every table began whispering amongst themselves. Some looked nervous, others openly confused, while several members affiliated with Clans exchanged guarded looks beneath the growing weight pressing down over the chamber. Yet despite the unrest beginning to spread, Blaise calmly returned his attention toward the student body at large.
"Nevertheless," he continued evenly, "our current Head Prefect, Mister Graymark, recently approached me with a proposal concerning the structure, discipline, and oversight of student conduct within Excalibur Academy." A measured pause followed before he inclined his head faintly. "After considerable thought and discussion with the faculty, I have elected to support his proposition."
At once, countless eyes shifted toward the Terra table as Lucian Graymark rose from his seat.
Dressed impeccably in Terra gold, the auburn-haired young man stepped smoothly onto the elevated marble floor with all the composed confidence of someone fully aware that the attention of the entire Great Hall now rested squarely upon him. His polished shoes clicked softly against the marble while he approached the professors' table before turning gracefully toward the gathered students, his hands folded neatly behind his back and a calm, practiced smile resting comfortably upon his face.
Godric instinctively glanced toward the Aecor table where Gabriel sat amongst the other students, his older brother's expression caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief as his eyes remained fixed intently upon Lucian standing beside Headmaster Blaise.
"To ensure that every student within Excalibur Academy remains fully aware of both the rules governing this institution and the consequences awaiting those who choose to violate them," Blaise continued, "and furthermore to ensure that discipline, order, and academic excellence remain the academy's foremost priorities above all else, I have decided to appoint a Head Prefect to each of the Five Houses."
The announcement rippled across the hall instantly. Around the Visionaries Table, every single member visibly stiffened beneath the implications of Blaise's declaration while the students throughout the chamber erupted into louder murmurs of surprise and confusion.
"They shall possess equal authority and oversight alongside the Visionaries themselves," Blaise continued firmly, allowing absolutely no ambiguity whatsoever to linger within his words.
****
Helga nearly dropped the half-eaten chicken leg in her hand.
"Wait," she muttered beneath her breath while staring wide-eyed toward the professors' table, "did he seriously just say equal authority?"
Rowena looked no less shocked beside her while Jeanne glanced anxiously between the Visionaries and Lucian, visibly sensing the hostility now brewing beneath the surface of the Great Hall. Even Salazar had gone unusually still, his emerald eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he studied both Blaise and the increasingly tense Visionaries Table from afar.
At the professors' table, the reaction proved no less telling.
Professor Ryan had visibly stiffened in his chair, his previously relaxed posture now entirely gone as his arms folded tightly across his chest. Beside him, Serfence had gone deathly still, though the subtle tightening of his jaw and the coldness settling behind his elegant composure betrayed the unease lurking beneath it. Even Workner looked deeply unsettled. His fingers drummed once against the surface of the table before stopping altogether.
The remaining professors were far more restrained in their reactions, yet the discomfort lingering amongst the faculty remained impossible to miss.
****
"And furthermore," Blaise said before the unrest could fully consume the hall, "I have elected to elevate Mister Graymark to the newly established position of Chief Prefect, from which he shall oversee both the appointed Head Prefects and the coordination of student discipline throughout the academy."
By now the atmosphere around the Visionaries Table had turned positively poisonous.
Several of the Visionaries looked moments away from openly objecting while students throughout the hall continued whispering furiously amongst themselves, fully aware that the balance of power within Excalibur Academy had just shifted dramatically before their very eyes. Lucian, however, remained entirely composed beneath the mounting tension surrounding him, and if anything, the faint confident smile resting upon his face only seemed to deepen further beneath the weight of the moment.
Finally, Blaise inclined his head politely toward him.
"Mister Graymark," he said calmly, "if you would be so kind."
Lucian cleared his throat softly before adjusting the thin-framed glasses resting upon the bridge of his nose, the polished marble beneath his shoes reflecting the amber crystal light cascading from above while the countless eyes gathered throughout the Great Hall remained fixed squarely upon him.
"Good evening, my fellow students," he began smoothly, carrying the same carefully measured confidence that always seemed to follow him wherever he walked. "As our illustrious Headmaster has so graciously informed you all, Excalibur Academy now stands upon the precipice of considerable change."
His hands spread outward in a practiced gesture as he addressed the hall.
"For far too long, discipline within this institution has been allowed to drift into inconsistency, particularly in the wake of recent events surrounding both the Siege and the increasing influence of organizations operating beyond proper academic oversight." Though his tone remained polite, there was a subtle sharpness beneath it now. "As such, the Prefect system shall officially be reorganized into what will henceforth be known as Excalibur's Disciplinary Committee."
The murmuring throughout the hall resumed almost immediately.
"With the full sanction and support of the faculty," Lucian continued calmly over the noise, "the Committee shall carry expanded authority in enforcing academy regulations, maintaining order throughout the campus grounds, and ensuring that students avoid certain…" His eyes briefly shifted toward Gabriel amongst the Aecor table whose expression darkened immediately beneath the implication. "Undesirable influences and deviant associations."
Gabriel's scowl deepened visibly.
Godric caught the tension instantly.
Lucian, however, merely smiled.
"Now then," he continued far more lightly while clasping his hands neatly behind his back once more, "without further delay, allow me the honor of introducing your newly appointed Head Prefects." His grin widened faintly afterward. "Though I should note that not all appointees have arrived at the castle just yet, the remaining members of the Committee shall be joining us in the near future."
At once, movement stirred from the far side of the elevated floor. Several figures emerged from beside the professors' table before stepping gradually into view beneath the crystal light overhead, drawing the attention of every student seated throughout the hall as they moved to stand alongside Lucian.
The first was a young man dressed in the pristine whites of Aecor, his uniform immaculate beneath the lights while his posture carried the rigid sharpness of military discipline. Tall and lean with neatly combed dark hair and narrow sapphire-blue eyes, he walked with the sort of controlled precision that suggested he measured every movement before making it.
Beside him stood a far larger figure clad in the grays and black of Ferrum, broad-shouldered enough to dwarf nearly everyone else upon the platform. The young man's sheer size alone drew attention immediately, his muscular frame stretching the fabric of his uniform beneath a heavy dark overcoat draped across his shoulders. His expression remained unreadable beneath closely cropped brown hair while a jagged scar ran faintly along the edge of his jawline.
The third was a young woman dressed in Terra gold whose presence carried a very different sort of weight. Bright, chipper, she moved with poised confidence while long chestnut hair flowed neatly over one shoulder and sharp amber eyes calmly surveyed the hall before her as though silently assessing every student seated within it.
As the three took their places beside Lucian, the atmosphere within the Great Hall only grew heavier.
****
The moment the three newly appointed prefects stepped fully into the crystal light, Rowena, Salazar, and Helga all visibly stiffened in near perfect unison.
Rowena's eyes widened first.
"Lochlan Murdoc?" she breathed beneath her breath.
Beside her, Salazar nearly fumbled the goblet in his hand.
"Trevor Morgan?" he said sharply, his emerald eyes fixed squarely upon the broad-shouldered Ferrum student standing beside Lucian.
Helga looked equally stunned.
"Tricia McLoughlin?" she blurted while staring toward the auburn-haired Terra girl now grinning confidently at the gathered student body with her hands resting upon her hips as though she had already claimed ownership over the room itself.
Godric blinked repeatedly while Jeanne looked between the three of them in confusion.
"Wait," Jeanne asked carefully, "you've actually met them before?"
"Only briefly," Salazar replied while continuing to study Trevor with visible displeasure lingering behind his composed expression. "I happened to encounter Mister Morgan during my visit to the Troll Market." His gaze narrowed faintly toward the enormous greatsword strapped across Trevor's back. "At the time, he mentioned having intentions of enrolling at Excalibur Academy, though admittedly I never once imagined he would arrive here as one of Lucian's newly appointed Head Prefects."
"The same goes for me," Helga said while eyeing Tricia carefully from across the hall. "Ran into her at the park some time ago." A nervous laugh escaped her afterward. "Honestly, she seemed pretty fun. Like a confetti canon ready to burst."
"And Murdoc," Rowena muttered darkly while folding her arms across her chest, "By Hecate, this day keeps getting better and better."
Godric immediately caught the shift in her tone. "You know him too?"
"I had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting him at a café," Rowena replied, her expression tightening visibly as her gaze remained fixed upon the tall Ventus prefect. "To call the encounter unpleasant would be putting it very mildly."
Jeanne looked between them with growing concern. "I'm almost afraid to ask," she admitted cautiously.
"It's exactly what you think, Jeanne," Rowena replied flatly while keeping her gaze fixed upon Lochlan Murdoc standing beside Lucian upon the elevated platform. "He's a Highborn, and not merely one born into privilege, but the particular sort who makes absolutely no effort whatsoever to disguise precisely what he thinks of those beneath his station."
Godric's expression darkened almost instantly at that. Rowena exhaled quietly before continuing, her tone remaining cold and controlled despite the irritation simmering beneath it.
"You would think Lucian possessed enough sense to recognize that he has effectively placed a stuck-up aristocrat in a position of authority over half the academy," she said. "But given the fact that Graymark himself comes from the same circle. I sincerely doubt he sees anything remotely wrong with it."
"Row," Helga interrupted gently while shifting uneasily in her seat, "isn't that maybe a little harsh?" She glanced briefly toward Lucian before looking back toward Rowena. "I mean, sure, the guy's a big dum-dum, and wound up a little too tightly, but I've never actually seen him throw his weight around before." She shrugged faintly. "Even when he was just Head Prefect."
"If there is one thing I have learned about the Entitled," Rowena replied, "it is that they are only pleasant for as long as it benefits them to be so."
The words settled heavily between them.
"And from everything I have heard regarding House Graymark," she continued, "I would be genuinely astonished if Lucian himself proved any different from the rest of them."
Only then did Rowena seem to realize Jeanne had gone quiet across from her.
Her expression softened slightly. "I mean no offence, Jeanne."
Jeanne immediately shook her head.
"None taken," she replied with a small awkward smile. "Honestly, I've only technically been nobility for a little over a fortnight." A quiet laugh escaped her afterward. "I still don't even fully understand what I'm supposed to do with that information."
"Nevertheless," Salazar said while casting another glance toward the Visionaries Table before returning his attention toward Lucian and the newly appointed Head Prefects standing beside him, "call the boy naïve if you wish, but Lucian Graymark and Headmaster Blaise have effectively just declared open war against both the High Table and the Congregation."
A faint simper tugged at his lips as he turned toward Godric.
"Truthfully, dear friend, your little speech in the arena of the Congregation now sounds positively adorable by comparison." His emerald eyes gleamed with dry amusement. "A lost lion cub growling at the moon whilst the adults prepare artillery."
Godric raised an eyebrow. "You seriously think this is more to this than meets the eye?"
"Oh, unquestionably," Salazar replied without even the slightest hesitation. "Lucian may package this entire affair beneath the language of institutional reform, discipline, and academic integrity, but no one suddenly constructs an entirely new hierarchy within Excalibur Academy without deeper ambitions motivating them."
His fingers tapped lightly against the stem of his goblet as he spoke. "Especially not at a time when both the Visionaries and the Congregation possess more influence amongst the student body than ever before."
Rowena nodded grimly beside him.
"This isn't just about enforcing rules," she said quietly. "It's about limiting power before it grows beyond their control."
"And I'd wager this is only the beginning," Rowena continued while folding her arms across her chest. "Lucian's probably going to expand the Disciplinary Committee further over time. More prefects. More oversight. More authority." She scoffed softly. "At this rate, he's practically trying to turn it into its own miniature version of the Clock Tower."
Helga frowned slightly. "That bad?"
"Potentially worse," Rowena replied. "Give it enough time and I wouldn't be surprised if he starts creating student equivalents of Aurors and Adjudicators next."
"And pray tell," Salazar interjected smoothly while the sharpness in his gaze deepened considerably, "how long before that inevitably evolves into something resembling Norsefire?" His words lowered slightly afterward. "Or perhaps even the Inquisition itself?"
The words settled heavily over the table.
"Power invariably begets more power," Salazar continued, "and forgive me if I possess absolutely no faith whatsoever in either Lucian Graymark or the faculty's ability to restrain what they've just created." He let out a quiet scoff beneath his breath. "Headmaster Blaise is not particularly renowned for exercising sound judgment where authority figures are concerned." His eyes narrowed faintly. "First Creedy. Then Burgess. And now this."
Jeanne looked genuinely unsettled now. "Things are going to get worse, aren't they?"
"I hate to say it," Godric admitted quietly, "but I agree with Salazar." His jaw tightened slightly. "There's nothing more dangerous than someone who genuinely believes authority places them beyond consequences." A faint bitterness crept into his tone afterward. "We've already seen exactly where that road leads."
Silence lingered briefly between them after that. The warmth and comfort that had filled the Great Hall earlier now felt distant somehow, replaced by something heavier quietly pressing down upon the students gathered within it.
"Okay." Helga slowly reached for dinner roll. "I officially hate this already."
"You are hardly alone in that sentiment," Salazar replied smoothly while resting his chin lightly upon steepled fingers, his emerald eyes drifting thoughtfully toward the Visionaries Table once more. "And something tells me the Visionaries themselves are not about to smile politely and accept having leashes fastened around their necks."
****
"And of course," Lucian continued smoothly while clasping his hands behind his back once more, "the Committee shall remain fully devoted to ensuring that Excalibur Academy continues to stand as a safe, hallowed, and properly disciplined institution for every student within its walls—"
The remainder of his sentence never arrived, because at that exact moment the harsh scrape of chairs dragging violently across stone thundered throughout the Great Hall with enough force that the sound echoed against the enchanted ceiling overhead, instantly silencing every murmur, every whisper, every lingering conversation still hanging within the chamber. All six Visionaries had risen from their seats at once, their expressions hard and levelled toward Lucian and the newly established Disciplinary Committee with enough disdain and restrained fury that words themselves suddenly felt unnecessary.
The silence radiating from them carried far more weight than any open argument ever could have, and in that moment, everyone present understood precisely what had just happened. This was not merely irritation over a school policy nor wounded pride over diminished authority, but the open acknowledgment of a challenge laid bare before the entirety of Excalibur Academy.
Arthur's jaw had gone rigid while Artoria's icy stare settled upon Lucian with such hostility that even the surrounding students seemed reluctant to breathe too loudly beneath it. Genji remained perfectly still beside them, though tension radiated visibly from his posture beneath the amber crystal light overhead, and Corvo merely watched the elevated floor with black eyes carrying a cold, predatory amusement that somehow made the atmosphere feel even heavier still. Slowly, Arthur and Artoria shifted their attention toward Headmaster Blaise himself, and the old man met their gazes without even the slightest hesitation, his sapphire irises cold and unwavering beneath the glow of the Great Hall.
Between the Visionaries, the faculty, and the newly established Committee standing beside Lucian, there passed an entirely silent understanding that lines had now been drawn openly for all to witness, and that whatever followed afterward would not simply fade away as some passing disagreement between students.
Then, one by one, the Visionaries turned from the table as they began making for the exits with long purposeful strides, several of them walking with their hands resting dangerously close to the hilts of their weapons while the oppressive tension following in their wake spread steadily throughout the chamber. Around the hall, students shifted uneasily in their seats while whispers rapidly erupted once more beneath the growing weight pressing down over the room.
At the Aecor table, Gabriel abruptly rose alongside two others, one clad in the steel-grey colors of Ferrum and another draped in the crimson flame insignia of Ignis. For a brief moment, Gabriel's eyes settled squarely upon Lucian standing beside Blaise, and even from across the hall the fury and disappointment burning within that stare struck with enough force to make Godric tense instinctively in his seat. Lucian's composed smile faltered ever so slightly beneath his older brother's gaze before Gabriel finally turned away and followed after the departing Visionaries without another word, disappearing through the towering doors of the Great Hall alongside the others.
Professor Lagduf immediately began rising from his seat as though intending to call after them, but before a single word could leave his mouth, Blaise calmly raised one hand, halting the orc professor where he stood. Yet even that gesture did little to steady the fracture now openly spreading throughout the hall itself.
Another harsh scrape of wood against stone rang out from the professors' table as Professor Ryan and Serfence both stood from their seats almost simultaneously, neither of them making the slightest attempt to disguise their displeasure. Ryan's expression had darkened into something openly furious while Serfence looked positively glacial beneath the polished restraint of his composure. Neither man spoke. They merely fixed Blaise with long, levelled stares carrying enough disapproval to make the surrounding professors visibly uneasy before turning sharply and heading toward the side exit of the chamber themselves.
Workner instinctively reached out a hand as though intending to stop them, though his fingers halted halfway before slowly drawing back toward himself once he realized neither of them had any intention whatsoever of remaining seated. Moments later, Professor Kyar rose as well, irritation plainly visible across her features while her tail lashed sharply behind her. She cast Blaise a look of unmistakable contempt before scoffing quietly beneath her breath and following after Ryan and Serfence without another word.
Professor Hohenheim slowly slipped his glasses from the bridge of his nose before closing his golden eyes, two fingers pressing firmly against them while a long, weary exhale escaped him. The tension lingering throughout the Great Hall seemed to settle visibly across his features as he sat there in silence for several moments, gathering whatever patience remained within him before finally reopening his eyes once more.
Then, without a word, he turned his head slightly toward the older man beside him. The look he gave Blaise carried no anger, no outrage, only deep, unmistakable disappointment.
Still, through all of it, the headmaster remained standing calmly beneath the crystal lights overhead, his expression unreadable while the remaining professors sat rigidly silent around him, some stone-faced, others visibly unsettled by the sheer scale of what had just unfolded before the student body.
The students continued whispering amongst themselves, fully aware that whatever balance once existed within Excalibur Academy had now fractured openly before their eyes, leaving behind an atmosphere so heavy with tension that the Great Hall itself no longer felt like a place of learning, but the quiet beginning of something far more dangerous.
****
"Ooo, trouble in paradise," Salazar remarked with a slow, serpent-like grin curling across his face while his emerald eyes followed the departing figures of the Visionaries and professors disappearing through the doors of the Great Hall. "It would seem our illustrious Headmaster failed to account for division festering within his own ranks."
A quiet chuckle escaped him afterward. "Though I suppose desperation has always served as the foundation for catastrophically poor decisions."
"I understand why the Visionaries would be furious," Jeanne admitted while glancing uncertainly toward the doors, "but why would Professors Ryan, Serfence, and Kyar react the same way?"
"Now that," Salazar replied while leaning back into his chair, "I cannot entirely attest to, though I can certainly hazard a number of entertaining guesses." His gaze shifted thoughtfully toward the professors' table before returning toward Jeanne. "As for the Visionaries themselves, however, their outrage is painfully easy to understand once you grasp precisely what becoming a Visionary actually entails."
Rowena nodded immediately.
"Salazar's right," she said. "The process is notoriously brutal, and some would go so far as to call it outright inhumane." Her expression darkened faintly as old memories surfaced behind her eyes. "My brother Bran held the title of Ventus Visionary, and so did both my father and grandfather before him. Even they admitted the trials nearly broke them."
"And therein lies the insult," Salazar interjected smoothly while gesturing lightly with one hand. "Tell me, dear Jeanne, how would you feel if you sacrificed years of your life, endured unimaginable hardship, bled, suffered, clawed your way toward prestige and authority through sheer merit alone, only for that same authority to suddenly be handed freely to someone else who had done absolutely nothing comparable to earn it?"
Jeanne hesitated.
"I…" Her expression shifted uncertainly as she considered it properly for the first time. "I suppose I'd feel cheated."
"Precisely." Salazar's smile sharpened faintly.
"The authority of a Visionary is not ceremonial," he continued. "Nor is it something gifted politely by faculty recommendation. By extension, the seats upon the High Table are claimed through dominance and defended through strength."
He took another measured sip from his goblet before continuing. "As our dear Laxus so eloquently demonstrated not too long ago, power within the Congregation is taken, not given. A chair at the Table belongs only to the individual capable of holding it." His emerald eyes narrowed slightly. "Fail to defend your position, and you lose everything attached to it. Influence. Authority. Prestige. Rank."
Godric's brow furrowed deeper.
"If I would be so bold, I'd say Headmaster Blaise intended for this announcement to be as grave a slight as possible," Salazar continued. "The man may hide behind eloquence and institutional procedure, but he is far too intelligent not to understand the implications of what he has just done." His gaze lingered toward the now half-empty Visionaries Table. "This was by design. A direct challenge aimed squarely at both the Visionaries and the High Table itself."
"And Lucian?" Godric asked.
Salazar let out a soft sigh while pinching lightly at the bridge of his nose.
"I'm afraid our bright-eyed little reformist has absolutely no idea what he's just stepped into," he said. "He likely believes this is for the greater good, and restoring balance to the academy. That whatever comes with would be confined solely within the confines of administration."
A dry laugh escaped him afterward. "Instead, he has inserted himself directly into a power struggle between the faculty and the most influential organization currently operating within Avalon, and I sincerely doubt he's ready to deal with the consequences that come with."
Jeanne looked increasingly uneasy as her eyes drifted once more toward the now empty Visionaries Table and the tense silence still lingering throughout the Great Hall.
"You make it sound as though a war is brewing," she said quietly.
Salazar's expression softened faintly at that, though the concern lingering behind Jeanne's words did little to diminish the seriousness settling across his own features.
"My dear Jeanne," he replied, "I strongly suspect we are already standing upon the precipice of one." His gaze shifted briefly toward Helga seated beside him. "As our dear Helga once so eloquently stated many months ago, the game has changed." A faint breath escaped him afterward. "For the longest time, I dismissed her words as little more than exaggeration, yet looking upon all this now…" His eyes slowly swept across the hall. "I do believe she was entirely correct."
"Wait," Helga's eyes widened, gesturing to herself. "You're agreeing… with me?"
"Don't look so surprised, my dear. Even a broken clock is right twice a day." Salazar bobbed his eyebrows with a Cheshire grin. "As I was saying, the Congregation has grown far beyond what it once was. Influence. Wealth. Reach." His fingers tapped lightly once against the stem of his goblet. "At this point, I daresay it has evolved into something this academy can no longer realistically contain, regulate, or intimidate through institutional authority alone."
His gaze drifted back toward Lucian.
"And therein lies the problem," Salazar continued. "Lucian, Gods bless the poor fool, still genuinely believes he is playing the role of some righteous officer of the law within the safe confines of a school." A faint scoff escaped him beneath his breath. "What he and his fellow prefects are about to discover, however, is that Excalibur Academy ceased being merely a school in the aftermath of the Siege."
Rowena's expression tightened immediately.
"Salazar…" She lowered her tone instinctively despite the surrounding noise beginning to rise again throughout the hall. "Are you trying to imply that the High Table and the Clans might actually resort to… violence against the Committee?"
Salazar met her gaze steadily.
"Oppression has always bred retaliation, Rowena," he replied quietly, "and I fear that this time the conflict shall unfold not beyond these walls, but within them." His emerald eyes darkened faintly afterward. "The difference now is that we are no longer dealing with a singular madman attempting to destroy Excalibur from the outside." He glanced once more toward the doors through which the Visionaries had departed. "This division is already rooted firmly within the academy itself."
Godric exhaled heavily before dragging a hand down his face.
"Blimey," he muttered beneath his breath. "What a Hell of a way to start the school year."
Across from him, Rowena merely gave a weary shrug as though she no longer possessed the energy to be surprised by catastrophe anymore.
Even Helga had finally stopped eating.
The towering collection of food piled high upon her plate sat almost entirely untouched now while her golden eyes remained fixed upon Lucian with visible concern. The young Chief Prefect continued speaking confidently to the gathered students as though nothing significant had occurred, yet despite his composed delivery, the atmosphere within the Great Hall had fundamentally changed.
The earlier warmth and excitement surrounding the start of the new term had all but vanished beneath the oppressive unease now hanging over the chamber, and throughout the hall students sat quieter than before, fully aware that something important had just fractured openly before their eyes.