Students getting consumed by the spell might be an annual occurrence at Kimberly, but the lava tree mold incident had certainly sent ripples through the campus. The discovery of new territory in the labyrinth alone was the topic of much debate—but more than anything, the way the incident had ended had been unthinkable in any normal year.
“I doubt anyone here has forgotten the Kimberly faculty regulations,” Headmistress Esmeralda begin, her icy tones echoing through the emergency faculty assembly.
The faces listening were even tenser than usual. Given the reason for this meeting, none believed it would end well.
“When pupils are lost in the labyrinth, we leave rescue operations to the students. Faculty directly take action only when eight days have passed after they are lost. No matter what relationship may exist between the students in need of rescue and the faculty. Even if they are your personal apprentices.”
All knew this rule. A famous principle of Kimberly, part of their Your life and death are in your own hands philosophy. The instructors would not keep students safe.
“We do allow a modest amount of flexibility based on the specifics of the incident. In this particular case, the choice was made to urge evacuation when things first went wrong. And in the latter half, we stepped in to handle the curse on the irminsul, preventing the corruption of the entire second layer. I have no intention of rebuking Williams, Hedges, or Warburg for doing so. I have my concerns about them reporting these actions after the fact, but I will accept the excuse that time was a factor.”
Each instructor she’d named quivered. They were glad to get away with it, but a clear line was drawn. They could go this far. But what about beyond?
“And yet, as the students attempted a rescue in the hollow beneath the second layer, someone made unauthorized, independent contact with them and proceeded to escort them to safety. This is a very different matter. This is a violation of the faculty code of ethics, with no wiggle room allowed—a clear mockery of the Kimberly way. Even if the individual responsible is but a temporary substitute.”
All eyes turned to the far end of the table—to the mage on the receiving end of these remarks. Everyone present knew. There had only ever been one person this meeting was about.
“That is my perception of things. Speak your piece, Farquois. While you still have a mouth to speak with.”
Esmeralda prompted the great sage to respond. Tensions mounted, but the mage themself appeared entirely unconcerned.
“‘My piece,’ is it?” Farquois snorted, shrugging. “I suppose I could babble a thing or two, but I just don’t get it. I mean, what am I making excuses for? Students were in trouble, and a teacher went to their rescue. The most natural thing in the world.”
Here at their official rebuke, they chose to directly oppose the core of Kimberly values. Several teachers looked resigned already, convinced this was tantamount to suicide.
“No defense, and no remorse. I am to take your position as such?” Esmeralda asked.
“Basically. But I do have an argument. Do you mind if I speak to that, Headmistress?”
“I will hear it. But consider your words carefully. They may be your last.”
She folded her hands on the table.
“Then let me begin!” Farquois cried, as if given a chance to make a speech. “This school is an absolute disgrace. Gathering the finest unpolished gems from around the world, throwing them into the crucible, uselessly killing one another, and those lucky enough or plucky enough to survive get trotted around as if they prove you are a school of any excellence. The nerve of you. An issue far before the quality of your instruction. This environment does not even qualify as an institute of learning.”
“Stop this, Farquois!” Dustin roared, unable to listen further.
The headmistress shot him an icy look. “Sit down, Hedges. I told them to speak. You have no right to silence them.”
Dustin ground his teeth—but if he did not obey, he would lose everything below the knees. Forced to take a seat, he could only glare at Farquois, although that desperate warning went unheeded.
“Why did I act to save those students? For the simple reason that I did not wish to lose any of them. Every student who entered here is an unpolished gem with talent of infinite value. Each and every one of them has the potential to achieve incredible success. Our first responsibility as teachers should be protecting their futures—not kicking them in the back off the edge of a bottomless cliff. You may be satisfied only with the students who crawl their way back up, but those who perish without managing it should have had a path as well. So this time, I went down after them. And what possible problem is there with—?”
“Gladio.”
A spell cut off their speech—and the sound of something falling echoed through the room. The teachers gulped, and Farquois glanced down.
The great sage found their own arm severed at the shoulder.
A beat later, a spurt of blood dampened the floor. Dustin’s and Ted’s chairs fell over.
“Headmistress! You can’t!”
“They’ve been sent by the Gnostic Hunter headquarters! You know what killing them means!”
Both moved in front of Farquois, an action that could well spell their own deaths. But it had to be said, even if it cost them their own limbs. The cost of souring relations with the Gnostic Hunters would be far greater. At the same time, Ted was greatly relieved the librarian, Isko, had not been invited. At the least, she would not lose her head.
Observing this desperate act from behind, Farquois winced, then raised their remaining arm. The blood from the shoulder wound had already stopped—and not a trace of any pain appeared on their face.