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Chapter 27 - Highest Honors
🕑 Added 2025-12-21 21:47:08 +0000 UTCMaster Quill was a proud man. But right this moment, pride was the furthest thing from his mind as he scrambled around his office, knocking over a stack of ungraded essays and nearly upending his inkwell in the process.
Golden visiting notice?! I've never even seen red before!
The small lamp near the entrance cast everything in that golden glow—the visitor alert formation, warning him of an uncommon guest. No, not uncommon.
Unprecedented.
The visitor alert system was ancient, installed when the academy itself was founded. Graduates would usually trigger a white light—he'd seen dozens of those over the years. Green indicated someone of particular notice, typically a graduate who'd gone on to achieve archmage status or claim a noble title. He'd witnessed that perhaps twenty times in his tenure.
Blue was reserved for the heads of noble families, those who carried their house insignia with the authority to announce themselves. Rare, but not unheard of.
Red was meant only for the reigning monarch. In all his years, in all the stories passed down through generations of head teachers, red had appeared exactly twelve times in the academy's recorded history.
But golden light had never even been mentioned during his training for this position.
If the system goes: white, green, blue, red... what could possibly be more important than the monarch?
One thing was certain—their status would far transcend his own. Which meant whatever came next could make or break his entire career. Or worse.
Could it be… a member of The Council?
Surely not. No, surely not. The Council of Seven hadn't intervened in continental affairs for over two centuries. Only a select few ever even learned of their existence. But what else remained?
The search turned even more frantic. His usually methodical mind fragmented into pure instinct as he yanked open drawers and shoved aside books. Why had I ever thought to put that damned book in a clever place?
Clever… Oh!
Quill spun toward his desk chair, dropping to his knees next to it. His fingers found the hidden catch beneath the seat. The seat lifted with a soft click, revealing a small hollow space and a very old book inside.
The perfect place to hide something I need easy access to, he'd told himself at the time. As long as I don't forget.
"Curse my mind!" he mumbled, grabbing the book with both hands as if it might vanish if he didn't hold tight. The leather binding felt ancient beneath his fingers, cracked and worn from centuries of use.
He slammed it onto his desk and began flipping through pages, scanning past passages on the defensive formation controls and various secret rooms.
Finally, he found it. The visitor alert codes.
"White, yes, green, mhm, blue, red." His finger traced down the list, his lips moving as he read. "Cyan? And purple as well."
Cyan was for visitors with the Headmaster’s personal invitation token, while purple indicated a commander of the academy’s personal military division, which hadn’t existed for over a thousand years.
“But gold… Oh.”
The words were simple. Almost disappointingly so.
'Graduates with the highest honors.'
Quill's breath caught. His mind, trained to process complex magical theory and political maneuvering, ground to a complete halt.
"Highest honors? But that's… not possible."
He knew the history. Every teacher did, along with every graduate who ever walked these halls.
Since the founding of the academy well over three thousand years ago, only a handful of students had ever received the highest honors. The criteria were absurd: mastery of at least three schools of Sarun magic, contribution of original research that advanced the field, the title of archmage, and—most impossibly—unanimous approval from the entire faculty.
The last graduate to achieve such recognition had died just over a hundred years ago. Quill had never met him, but his portrait hung high on the wall in the Hall of Scholars.
The alternative was becoming more and more likely with each passing second. The formation had broken. After millennia of faithful service, the ancient magic had finally degraded past the point of reliability.
It was sad, but nothing lasts forever.
Did we even get a visitor?
Perhaps the golden light was just a malfunction. A surge in the ambient mana causing the alert system to misfire. That would explain everything. He could write a report, arrange for repairs, and forget this entire panic-inducing episode ever—
Right then, a knock came from his door.
Quill froze in place, still half-crouched over his desk with the ancient book open in front of him. His eyes fixed on the door, dreading whatever was on the other side.
But then rationality reasserted itself, cutting through the panic. He was overreacting. The formation had clearly malfunctioned. This was probably just a regular graduate, here for a nostalgic visit or to inquire about an admission for their relative.
Quill straightened, forcing his breathing to slow. He smoothed down his robes with trembling hands, ran his fingers through his hair to restore some semblance of dignity, and walked back to his chair with as much composure as he could muster.
He sat down carefully, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. The posture of authority. The image of calm control.
"Who is it?" His voice came out steadier than he expected. Good.
"...An old graduate." The voice from the other side was male, young-sounding, with an odd quality to it that Quill couldn't quite place. "I came here to see if the old headmaster was still around, but it seems… I was too late."
The old headmaster?
Quill's composure cracked. He knows about him?
"Please come in so we can speak, sir. The door is open now." Quill channeled a thread of mana into the lock formation, hearing the soft click as it disengaged.
The door swung open, revealing a far younger man than Quill expected to see. Late twenties at most, with dark brown hair and handsome features, if not for the slightly haunted look in his eyes.
And beside him, a young girl who couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen. Her eyes were closed, as if blinded.
"Welcome," Quill said, falling back on trained courtesy while his mind raced. "I am currently the Head Teacher of this academy. You may call me Master Quill."
"Nice to meet you, Quill." The young man's voice carried no particular deference, no acknowledgment of rank or station. "I'm Daniel, and this is Felicia."
The lack of respect in the young man's voice should have annoyed him. Under normal circumstances, it would have. Quill had earned his position. Even noble-born students addressed him properly.
But instead, it made him nervous.
Because if this man could afford to disrespect him, if he felt comfortable doing so without a second thought, then perhaps the formation hadn't mixed up anything. Perhaps the golden light was exactly what it claimed to be.
Quill's mind raced through possibilities. Could the formation have mixed up the colors somehow? Turned cyan into gold due to some magical interference?
He couldn't recall anyone notable with that name, though. No historical records, no legendary figures.
“...You said you were looking for the old headmaster. Would you happen to know his name?”
That should be an adequate test.
Even the other heads of the academy only knew him by his title. Only those who had actually met him, spoken with him, would know his personal name. And Quill was one of the very few.
“Oh yeah, Zoltran Marionasse. Right?”
Quill took a sharp breath. Zoltran was indeed the name of the headmaster. But he had never heard the surname before. Not once in all his years. The Headmaster, in the few conversations Quill had been privileged to witness, never used a family name.
The fact that this young man seemed to know it, saying it casually as if confirming a simple fact...
"I'm sorry." Quill fought to keep his voice steady. “The formations that usually notify me of important visitors seem to have aged, so I’m not sure who you are exactly. It told me you were a graduate of the school with the highest honors.”
There. Let him correct the record. Let him laugh it off as a malfunction. Let him be anything other than what the formation claimed.
"Ah, but that's correct." Daniel's expression seemed almost amused. "I checked the formations while I passed by, and they seemed perfectly fine to me. Old, of course, but still doing their job."
He checked the formations.
The words were so absurd that Quill almost laughed. The visitor alert system was integrated into the academy's foundational wards, layered with protections and obscurity that would stop anyone but the greatest formationists.
This young man claimed to have checked them while passing by.
"No… I'm afraid that's impossible." The words came out more forcefully than Quill intended, denying both of the absurd claims.
Daniel's casual demeanor shifted slightly. When he spoke again, his voice carried a weight that hadn't been there before.
"Mister Quill, tell me what happened to the headmaster. Is he alive?"
“...He is.”
A sudden sigh of relief escaped the young man. His entire body seemed to relax, and the tension that had built in the room suddenly vanished.
Quill hadn’t even noticed it before it disappeared, but his hands trembled where they gripped the armrests of his chair.
What was that?
He hadn't noticed it building, hadn't felt the mana shift or seen any visible signs of magic. But something had been pressing down on him, like the weight of an ocean contained in a single room.
And the young man hadn't even seemed aware of it.
"That's a relief." Daniel's voice was soft, almost vulnerable. The girl by his side grabbed his arm, and they shared a tender smile. It was almost like she could see his face.
Daniel’s attention returned to Quill. "When I heard someone else answer the door, I… I was nervous."
"Truly? But this office hasn't been used by him since…"
At least eight hundred years ago. Is this young man that old?
Only three students had graduated with the highest honors before then. One was a woman, leaving only two. And the other was buried at this very academy, under a grave Quill had visited many times before. The first Head Teacher.
Which left only one.
One young man who had sealed himself to save the continent a thousand years ago.
Could it be? Had the Artorian religion been right all this time?
"...Artorias?"
The name felt strange on Quill's tongue, almost blasphemous.
But Daniel blinked in confusion. "Who's that?"
Who's that?
The question was so ridiculous that Quill didn’t know how to respond. But he soon realized. The fake name was to hide his identity, which made perfect sense if he truly was the man of legend.
Another clue presented itself when he looked to the young girl by his side, who was biting her lips. Her face slowly turned red, as if doing her best to suppress a laugh.
Gods… I need to let the Headmaster handle this. Perhaps I’ve found not just extraordinary, not once in a century…
But once in a millennium…
The report from Artorias City now made perfect sense. A mana suppression that froze an entire city in fear—it was not a dragon attack, not a corrupted spirit. And the evasive response from the Harrowblooms likely meant they knew exactly what had happened.
Who had happened.
"...Right." Quill cleared his throat nervously. "Uhm, the headmaster is—I'll take you to him. My assistant can tend to your friend in the meantime, unless you prefer to bring her along."
The young man turned to look at the blind girl—Felicia—and his entire demeanor softened.
"Are you okay waiting here for a bit? There are some things…"
"Of course," Felicia replied with a smile. "I'm sure there are important matters to discuss."
Quill nodded, grateful for the excuse to do something normal, something routine. He reached out with a thread of mana, activating the communication formation built into the side of his desk.
"Dear assistant, could you come to my office?"
Lily's voice came back almost immediately, bright and professional. "I'll be right there, sir."
"Good." Quill rose from his seat, wiping some sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
It sure is hot in my office today.
It wasn't hot at all. The temperature formations kept everything perfectly comfortable. But with all the evidence pointing toward—well, something absolutely unbelievable—it was hard to remain cool and collected.
"I'll take you to him, sir." The honorific came automatically now.
"Daniel works fine. But thanks."
The door opened just as Quill was about to open the secret passage behind his bookshelf. His blonde assistant stepped in, already pulling her professional smile into place.
"What did you…" Lily's eyes found the blind girl standing closest to her, and her expression transformed into shock. "Felicia?!"
"Lily?"
