“Calm down, gentlemen. If she was trying to kill me, she’d have aimed for the head. I could tell, which is why I took no action. Still—ha-ha, most impressive. I did not even feel the cut.”
“This is a countdown. Consider yourself fortunate you have three chances left. Use them well.” Esmeralda put her athame away and folded her hands once more.
In other words, she intended to go limb by limb, then finally take their head. This was the price she’d take for them insulting Kimberly to her face. Arguably a sign of her generosity.
But down this path lay nothing good. Convinced of that, Ted clenched his fists, summoning his last ounce of fortitude—and forced his voice from his throat.
“…I-if I may have permission to speak, Headmistress?”
“What, Williams?”
Her gaze drifted sideways, as if considering adding another limb to the mounting pile. Ted’s survival instincts reflexively tried to seal his lips, but he powered through.
“…Th-this incident is partially…our failure to grasp and maintain the full scope of the labyrinth. This…played a role in the predicament the students faced. G-given the three missing instructors, we could assess the labyrinth’s danger level as significantly higher than average. Since the students were stranded in uncharted territory, I have…some doubts as to whether leaving this incident in student hands was…”
Listening to his faltering attempt, Dustin swallowed. A very basic argument, nothing that would catch anyone by surprise. But voicing it here took such strength of will. He had infinite respect for the way their weakest instructor stuck to his guns.
In response, Esmeralda narrowed her eyes. “So you wish to argue that faculty failings played a role in the cause of this incident, meaning we should not force the resolution entirely on the student body.”
“…I feel we were not on our best game. That is why I chose to take action myself. Arguably, Farquois’s choices are an extension of what we did. I—I admit, they went out-of-bounds. But at the moment of intervention, it was impossible for anyone in the lava tree mold to know what was about to happen. The fourth-years were exhausted after their battle with the consumed sixth-year; there were valid reasons for staff and faculty to offer support.”
Ted was clutching at straws. The missing teachers proved something was wrong at Kimberly, and the faculty had to adapt in response. In no way did that go against the school style—Ted himself was a graduate and was well aware of the value of this environment. But that did not mean he was willing to sacrifice students. Even if their lives were but fodder for the fires, they should be prepared, and the time should be ripe. He did not wish to rob students of that.
As Ted’s speech dried up, the room fell silent. In that hush, his hand wandered unbidden to his throat. He would not have been the least bit surprised to find it already severed.
Meanwhile, Dustin was glaring at Farquois with nigh murderous intent.
Hold your damn tongue. My friend is sticking his neck out for you, and if you trample on that effort, I’ll kill you before she can.
His eyes made that message loud and clear. With a ferocity that gave even the great sage pause.
“Mm, let’s take a deep breath, Emmy,” said a voice.
Dulcet tones from the ceiling. A figure came in to land behind the headmistress. A smiling man, his hair in ringlets, clad in a dark brown suit. His entrance was now routine; it provoked no surprise. The right hand of the Kimberly witch—part-time lecturer Theodore McFarlane.
“…Theodore.”
“You’ve noticed, yes? He’s trying to protect you more than he is the great sage. Even if that is not all that motivates him.”
Theodore smiled at Ted, and the great sage turned their attention to the new arrival.
“It’s been far too long, McFarlane. Popping up at this juncture? How laissez-faire.”
“I came as soon as I could. Honestly, you’re the last person I expected to be posted here. The Five Rods really do have a mean streak… Flamma.”
A sigh on his tones, Theodore cast a spell, and the flames arced from his wand to Farquois’s severed arm. The great sage watched it crumple to ash.
“The arm you have left is apt penalty for your violation,” Theodore said, unusually grim. “You must know how generous that is. I trust you have no complaints, Mx. Farquois?”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all. An arm is a small price to pay for the salvation of my precious students. I’ll just grow three extra for next time.”
Farquois shrugged it off in good humor.
“I would not recommend joking,” Theodore said, shaking his head. “Assume I cannot hold her back forever. Great Sage, it is high time you understood the nature of the witch you face.”
Farquois’s eyes narrowed. They understood this was not a threat, but a warning. Farquois looked back at the headmistress, and her gaze locked on them, never once wavering.
She showed no fear. Not of Farquois themself, nor the Gnostic Hunters’ scheme behind them. Her eyes were a testament to the fact that she was prepared to take down the Five Rods if she had to. That she had no intent of playing around in their political farce. That was what the pinnacle of the magic world meant.
“…There will be no countdown next time, Farquois.”
“…Haah. Point taken.”
As they acquiesced, the doors blew open. A prompt to vacate the room—and with their wounds, the great sage was disinclined to refuse. Every eye followed them out, the doors closed behind them.
Farquois sighed. “My word! When was the last time I felt a chill run down my spine?” they muttered.
And they set off, smiling warmly at the students gasping at their missing limb. It was all enjoyable: the pain from the severed arm, the cold sweat on their back. It had been so long since this mage felt either sensation.