Sir Meliora, Mag of Rank X
I am writing this letter to you with a sense of urgency, so I will make sure to keep it brief. One of the 10 students enrolled at our academy this year, a boy named Ajin, could be Adrian's child. This situation presents an unknown risk, and we are uncertain whether he may pose a danger to us or the institution.
Before I forget, I request that you consider forming a team that includes my two children, Sidonia and Albert, to investigate this matter further.
With utmost respect,
Lord Adris
Meliora let the letter slip from his fingers, his gaze fixed on the parchment as his mind churned with the implications. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, a deep frown creasing his forehead, and stood from his oak desk, pacing the length of his ornate office. The polished wood around him seemed to reflect the tension in the air as he contemplated the gravity of the situation. After several moments, he returned to the desk and engaged the intercom.
"Everyone to the conference room," he ordered, his voice steady yet filled with an undercurrent of concern.
The message reverberated through the halls of the academy, a summons that pulled the attention of staff and instructors alike. Simultaneously, Rafael entered the classroom with the new students arrayed before him, their faces betraying a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
"Alright, class, please take your seats and remain calm. An important matter has arisen that we need to address. Yami, come with me. This seems significant."
Without a word, Yami rose and followed Rafael out, his expression a mask of mild annoyance at the interruption.
"What do you think is going on?" Yami pondered aloud as they made their way through the bustling corridors, their footsteps echoing against the stone walls. "Meliora seemed really tense."
"If I had to guess, it's probably about something serious," Rafael replied, hoping to keep the atmosphere light, though sincerity tinged his voice. "Let's just hope whatever it is won't take too long."
After a brisk five-minute walk through the maze of the academy's corridors, they arrived at the imposing doors of the conference room. Once inside, they found the other teachers already gathered, all of them having abandoned their prior engagements to attend to this unexpected gathering.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Meliora began, his voice steady but laced with barely concealed urgency. "I won't keep you long, but I need to discuss an alarming message I just received from King Adris. It states the following: 'I am writing you this letter urgently so that it will be a short one. One of the ten students admitted this year, named Ajin, might be Adrian's child..."
A wave of tense silence swept over the room as the teachers exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions reflecting a mix of disbelief and concern. Meliora continued to read the letter aloud, focusing on the gravity of the revelation:
"…we don't know if he poses a danger or not."
Setting the letter down, he clasped his hands beneath his long, white beard, attempting to steady his racing thoughts.
"I'm shocked. This news is unprecedented. Adrian… a child," he uttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as the implications began to settle heavily upon all present.
From the far end of the long, polished oak table, a younger teacher, barely in his late twenties and born fourteen years before the Cataclysm, hesitantly speaks up, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Well, wasn't Adrian away from the kingdom during that time? As far as I'm concerned, this child shouldn't even exist. So… do we just execute him?"
"William, how can you say such a thing?" counters Greta, a teacher in her forties with wisps of silver threading through her dark hair, her calm demeanor juxtaposed by the curling smoke from her cigarette. She exhales slowly, her sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly. "He's just a child. We can't simply take his life. He hasn't done anything wrong. Wouldn't it be far more prudent to use him? To cultivate his potential? We need to think strategically."
"Good idea, Greta," Meliora replies, leaning forward, his brow furrowed in thought. "But for now, I suggest we hold off on any drastic action and see how things develop. We must remain composed."
Meliora, the head of the faculty, places his hands on the table, the polished surface reflecting the muted light of the room. "Yami," he instructs, looking toward a scruffy young man with tousled hair. "Please keep a close eye on him and report anything that happens immediately."
"Alright, I'll keep watch," Yami responds, his tone nonchalant as he slouches in his chair, "but I'm not promising I'll actually do anything about it. Just saying."
Meliora rolls his eyes, though he expected this kind of flippancy from Yami. He had known him since he was a small child, and this kind of behavior was typical for him. Yet, despite Yami's casual attitude, Meliora trusted him completely with this important task.
"Does anyone have anything else to add, or can we bring this meeting to a close?" Meliora asks, his voice steady despite the undercurrents of tension in the room.
A teacher around sixty, with a raspy voice and a well-worn face lined with years of experience, named Darius, interjects. "Will the Magic Games still be held this year? I've heard persistent rumors that the Academy of Vulcania is keen to participate again. Their involvement could shift the balance of power."
The room fills with murmurs of agreement, heads nodding in unison as they consider the implications. Only Meliora remains contemplative, struggling to frame a coherent response amidst the weight of the situation.
"Darius…" he begins, carefully weighing his words. "This decision isn't solely mine to make. It depends on Adris and whether he wishes for the games to be held again. But given the current political climate between Antanta and Vulcania… It's all too uncertain right now. I can't provide you with a definitive answer."
Darius nods slowly, understanding the complexities that lie beneath the surface of their discussion.
"Are there any other questions, or can we officially close the meeting? Please raise your hand if you vote to close it now," Meliora states, looking around the room.
One by one, every teacher in the room raises a hand, some with resolute faces, others looking pensive.
"I declare the meeting closed," Meliora concludes, his voice echoing slightly in the subdued atmosphere as the weight of their decisions hangs heavy in the air.