And so their motley crew’s journey began. Farquois kept trying to ask about Walker’s experiences lost below the fifth layer, and Walker was sharing effusively. However—even Oliver and Guy could tell the specifics were rather niche.
“It was all like that, almost nothing edible on the sixth layer,” said Walker. “When the supplies I’d brought dipped below twenty percent, I knew I was hosed. But I also thought—there’s gotta be magical species that have adapted to this hostile environment. Maybe underground, where the changes are less dramatic—”
“Mm-hmm, that’s fascinating. But it does seem like you’re mostly talking about food. I’d quite like to hear about other things, too…”
Farquois was clearly getting impatient. Understandably—Walker had yet to speak about anything unrelated to food. Oliver and Guy were left sweating in their wake—and since the pace Walker set was demanding, they could not relax for a second. This might as well be a labyrinth trail run—and they maintained that all the way through the second and third layers. Before they knew it, they were at the Library Plaza. There, Walker’s privileges let him skip the trial, and they sailed right on into the Library of the Depths.
“Hello, librarians!” Walker yelled right off the bat. “Don’t glare at me like that. I’m not cooking dinner here again! Just passing through! Keep up the good work!”
The harpies flying around tending to the books in the tower, the reapers working the desks—every head turned to look. A clear distinction to how they reacted to anyone else—and Oliver remembered him joking about trying to make a stew here and nearly getting himself killed. If they still held it against him, then sure—that was so appalling, you had to laugh.
They raced across the plains where Oliver had once fought the philosopher Demitrio, and beyond that lay the Firedrake Canyon, where the mad old man Enrico had met his end. Observing the wyverns flying around their nests in the deep ravine, Walker glanced back at his juniors.
“You been to the fifth layer before? It’s a bit soon, I’d imagine. Most need to be in their sixth or seventh year to make it this deep.”
“…Not yet, no,” Oliver said. The safe answer.
Not wanting to give anything away, he decided to follow Walker’s lead as if this place was sight unseen. Meanwhile, it genuinely was a new experience for Guy, and his brow was deeply furrowed.
“Yeah, me neither,” he said. “We’re really crossing this? I’m not too confident.”
“Oh, don’t sweat it! You just gotta make sure the dragons don’t spot you! And deal with it if they do! I once ran through here clutching a stolen egg!”
Walker brought a personal anecdote into it, but that was not in the least bit helpful. Oliver and Guy exchanged glances, and picking up on their nerves, Farquois sighed.
“Still, if we must move stealthily, four is a bit too many. Better we split into two pairs. I can handle anything here, but that should help the fourth-years out.”
“Oh, nice idea, Mx. Farquois. You mind taking Oliver on? I had Guy under my wing before—wanna see how he moves these days.”
“Wait, this is a test now? I ain’t even been here before!”
Guy reeled, but they’d come too far to turn back. With the plan settled, they set out across the fifth layer. First, spells camouflaged them as they approached the canyon, and when the wyverns were away, they slipped on in. At the base of the terrain, Oliver quickly scanned his surroundings. The first thought on his mind was the lindwurm, but at least for now, he sensed nothing that large. Getting themselves spotted by that so soon would prove they had no business being here.
Once everyone was down, they began traversing the chasm basin. Wyverns wheeling overhead, small and midsize drakes scrabbling around the walls, and to effectively evade them all, the pairs frequently had to part ways. That left Oliver functionally alone with Farquois. And given that opportunity, he tried feeling the mage out. Starting with something that had been on his mind the whole way down.
“…Um, Instructor, you seem a touch different today.”
“…Mm? Oh, you can tell? Yes, I’m a liiiiiiiiittle bit ticked off. Honestly, it’s not often I meet someone quite as immune to me,” the great sage grumbled.
Oliver was well aware they meant Walker; it had been all too clear Farquois was not holding the reins of their conversation. Their notoriously powerful charm was providing zero advantages in those interactions.
“He’s a tough nut to crack. His core long since entranced by something else, no wiggle room for me to slip in. Ah, even admitting it out loud is humiliating! Such a humdrum excuse.”
Farquois threw their head back, jaw clenched—a look you often saw ordinaries make. This rather threw Oliver. They’d always seemed so above it all, but their actions today were betraying the human within. Or perhaps that, too, was establishing a foothold for their charm.
As Oliver watched and pondered, Farquois suddenly turned his way.
“I could say the same thing for your friend Mr. Reston, though hardly to the same degree.”
“Oh, Pete?”
“Yes. Other people being fascinated by me is the way of things, the natural order, but it’s not often I get a snot feigning that fascination to get closer to me. It irked me, so I’ve paid him little attention. Honestly, a fellow reversi—I’d intended to look after him first and foremost.”
Farquois shrugged, sighing like it was such a disappointment. But this statement caught Oliver off guard.
He’d long been concerned about the effects of the charm on Pete, but it had never occurred to him that Pete might simply be faking it. He couldn’t necessarily swallow Farquois’s opinion whole, but it was also a fact that Pete had his feet on the ground as a mage now. Ironic that this had worked against him.
Oliver felt his mind start to ponder Pete’s motivations, but he soon realized that could wait. Whatever his friend’s schemes, what mattered was Farquois’s intentions.
“So you were planning on bringing Pete into your household?”
“Less a plan than…generally, that’s just what happens. It’s totally fine if he’s an exception. The nature of this trait means reversi children are often profoundly isolated, and I’ve been plucking them all out of the muck. Mr. Reston simply wasn’t in those circumstances. He gets more than enough love from all of you.”
“……!”
That rattled Oliver even further.
It stood to reason the mage knew who Pete’s friends were. That wasn’t the issue; it was more the reason for all the reversi they’d taken in. Not a soul believed this was out of benevolence or sympathy—to the point where there was no use even paying lip service to those motives. Yet, voice them they did. Two possible explanations came to mind: Either Farquois took Oliver for a fool, or they simply didn’t care about this conversation at all.
Instinctively, he felt it was the latter. But if that was all, then the feelers he’d put out were useless. Oliver wanted to take another step in, to catch a glimpse of their real intent. Couldn’t hurt to try.
“If I might be a touch too honest—I cannot get a read on you at all.”
He pulled up short, turning to face the mage. Sensing the shift in mood, Farquois faced him, too.
“Mm? Were you trying to? That’s presumptuous.”
“I think it’s only natural. Your behavior is far too outlandish for Kimberly. And you know it—yet you refuse to change or even compromise. I don’t know why. I can’t tell what you intend to achieve with this performance, or what you really want. And without that insight, I’ve gotta assume you’re a shit stirrer with a death wish.”