Chapter 23

  The Trap

  “The easiest way to avoid suspicion, play dumb. Most people cannot let others trample on their intelligence, use that. When you know people are phishing about information about you, the best way to avoid suspicion, lay low and play dumb.” – Teaching of Marcon

  A strange air filled the campus.

  It was the innate air of arcane power. Hard to notice at first, but palpable. Like a looming threat you knew would come, but not when it arrived.

  To others, the air was little more than a slight winter’s breath, breathing down their spines. For Arla, the wind was far more memorable, being as she knew the sensations of this to be a more subdued form of the energy she felt as a child, during her testing. That or, maybe her tolerance for such annoyances had grown.

  “Brr,” Chloe, Arla’s roommate, began as she even grabbed at her arms in a huddling fashion.

  For her part Arla just nodded, knowing that the cold was a perception and not a reality thing.

  “What?” Chloe asked, but then stared at Arla who seemed to be unaffected by the strange sensations.

  “It is sixty-five degrees, you are fine,” Arla responded, trying to get her words to help break the hold that the Cerusian magic seemed to have over her roommate.

  Hearing that, Chloe turned her head to the wall and saw that it was indeed sixty-five degrees in the shared dorm room. Seeing the thermometer, Chloe blinked her eyes as if trying to dismiss the clearly erroneous reading. Only to find that it was still the same reading as before.

  Realizing that she was not hallucinating, Chloe took a deep breath and all but shattered the hold that the odd magic seemed to have over her.

  “There, now let’s go to class,” Arla exclaimed.

  For a moment Chloe paused as she stared at her roommate. “Wait, you want to go together?” She asked incredulously.

  “Yes, unless you had other plans?” Arla responded, while still providing the girl an out.

  “What? Oh no, let’s go,” Chloe responded a smile beaming on her face. “It’s just, you know, you always seem to not want to spend time together.”

  At that Arla just nodded, “I have had my priorities misaligned, thank you for putting up with me.”

  These were not platitudes; Arla was originally thrown off by the sincerity and seemingly boundless energy of her roommate. Marcon always made Arla avoid such people in the past.

  They were the kind of people that would give you freely what they had.

  When Arla asked why not take what they give, Marcon shook his head and responded. “There are so few genuinely nice people in the universe. There will of course be people who break or ruin them forever. Do not be the person who breaks such a genuinely good person, lest you be saddled with bearing their karmic debt.”

  There was obviously more to that comment.

  It was clear that for whatever reason Marcon had felt that he himself had broken such a genuinely nice person and had to bear the weight of such an action.

  Arla never pressed, and Marcon never provided anything more. Only giving the sound advice that “once you find someone truly special like that, enjoy them for the nova that they are, for one day they will burn out and when they do, the universe will feel suddenly darker.”

  For her part, Arla had been more than accommodating to avoid Chloe entirely, not wanting such a karmic debt to befall herself.

  That all changed, once she first learned that the Cerusians would be coming. Then the odd energy, and finally the way that Chloe reacted to the energy, all but proving that she was at least gifted. That or maybe she had partial Cerusian heritage.

  Regardless of why she reacted to the odd energy, the fact that she reacted at all proved to Arla that their joining might not have been as coincidental as previously thought.

  Also, it was clear that whatever net the Cerusians were casting for whatever prize they were currently seeking was both wide and broad.

  The idea of Chloe inadvertently being swept up into this net was not beyond comprehension.

  Arla couldn’t help but glance around, her eyes scanning the area and looking for anything that seemed out of place.

  Most curious was the way the Geminoid statues all seemed to have a more respectable and rigid appearance. There was even a dark onyx coating on them.

  It took Arla a second to realize that the onyx coating was a defensive layer. Something the geminoids did to protect themselves from adverse effects of the environment around them. It severely limited their mobility, but all but made them immune to outside effects. Even their eyes were covered, signifying that they were not even capable of spying at the moment.

  Seeing them like this, Arla realized that this area was now a prime spot to stash future deliveries, provided the geminoids maintained this insistence on hiding.

  I wonder if this is an innate fear response brought about by the Cerusians? Arla contemplated to herself as she continued to the lecture hall.

  The fact that the Geminoids would be able to notice the odd magical resonance was not odd. What was odd however was the way that

  That was the first warning.

  Of course, there were other oddities too.

  The increase of guards. Not that the number of guards on campus had necessarily increased, but the fact that these guards were suddenly more vigilant.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Then the purpose for all the increased security became clear.

  Cerusians.

  An entire platoon’s worth, seemingly made up of students of varying ages and abilities.

  They were of course easy to spot, as many other students would first notice them, pause and then seem to stop a few dozen paces away.

  The group stood in formation talking in their sacred tongue.

  Being the crisp day, the words seemed to have a certain weight and volume to them as they headed out and hit Arla’s ears.

  It took a moment for her mind to engage and begin breaking down the words. But then her mind was able to accurately parse the words and phrases as if she had a chance to practice continually.

  “…Do not forget, that while we are here for a specific purpose, we are still representing the Matriarch. Every action you take, every move and gesture made will be recorded, analyzed and dissected. Do not embarrass yourself, and most importantly do not embarrass her holiness,” the leader began.

  It took a moment, but after seeing the platoon versus the leader, it was clear that the leader was older than the others. There were subtle differences, but it was clear that the leader was easily double if not more than the platoon she was leading.

  “Wow, those are all students. To be so disciplined while still being a cadet, that is impressive,” Chloe whispered as they approached. Chloe was clearly speaking the standard dialect of the Federation and likely had no clue what the others were saying.

  Hearing the question, Arla wanted to correct her, to point out how the platoon leader was twice as old as the others but instead chose to reply with just a nod.

  This would be the first and likely easiest trap to fall into.

  That and the fact that for now, she could likely get close to the others and listen in for what this purpose was. Her intent at the time was to find out their purpose, display the purpose to them, and hope that they left immediately afterwards.

  From what she could tell, all Cerusians were inherently selfish, this was not a Marcon teaching. Rather this was what she learned from her own studies.

  Cerusians were very mission oriented, finding an objective, presenting resources to that objective, and then once that objective was obtained, they would subsequently leave.

  This was where Arla came up with her own creed: Never become a Ceruisan objective.

  Having met Chloe, she now extended the same creed to apply to her.

  “Oh, he’s handsome,” Chloe giggled coquettishly, as she indicated the platoon leader.

  Seeing the leader, Arla looked and realized that Chloe apparently had no clue about Ceruisian anatomy, as that was clearly a female. Again, not something that Arla wanted to point out, but something that would likely get pointed out in the future.

  “Come on, aren’t you in this hall?” Arla pressed, clearly changing the subject.

  “Yes,” she began, and momentarily paused as she entered the area of influence being created and permeated by the Cerusians. “But wait...”

  Just being this close made it so she could feel the otherworldly aspect of them.

  An otherworldly aspect that Arla expressly ignored.

  However, it was clear that Chloe was unable to overcome her initial hesitation. Likely the same form of hesitation that stopped everyone from encroaching on their impromptu meeting area.

  Everyone but Arla, who walked casually through the field, somehow seeming to break whatever air of compulsion kept everyone at bay.

  Then as she entered, Chloe quickly followed, “wait!” She exclaimed as she too charged forward.

  After that, it was a matter of seconds before everyone else that had seemingly stopped their advancement to allow the odd space elves their own space, soon realized that they too had classes to go to. Which then led to a seeming stampeded that all but forced the platoon to break up and disperse, but not before the platoon leader took one long look at the back of Arla’s head.

  Not even registering the threat, Arla continued forward, never looking back and never granting the elf the satisfaction of knowing who was immune to their imposing natures.

  That was on her way into the building.

  Being that these were now mixed classes, focused on increasing awareness of Cerusian culture, Chloe found her way to the same exact auditorium that Arla always went to.

  But rather than having Dr. Juric on hand to give his normal broken teachings of Cerusian, or at least what Arla considered to be broken Cerusian, this time the class would be conducted by an elder Cerusian.

  This was not the same Cerusian that was the platoon leader from outside, but close. Quite possibly in the same family? At least that is what Arla suspected, given the way the two had very similar features. That is the shape and contour of the eyes, the bridging of the nose, even the tense expressions on the jawlines all spoke to having similar characteristics.

  Then again, it had been years since Marcon made her stare at and observe the characteristics of Cerusians. But she could still make out the differences. The subtle notes of aging, and most importantly what the signs of royalty were.

  This person was a noble of some kind, likely needed to keep the others in line below her. But it was also her posture, her mannerisms, and most importantly her undeniable Cerusian magics that set her apart as someone powerful.

  Looking at her, it was clear that she was a practitioner of Wind and Water elements, but there was more as combination elements seemed to have been woven into the very fabric of her clothing. These safety features, or more likely attack characteristics were clearly lacking in the uniforms worn by the others.

  From all this, Arla was making a mental note of who everyone was.

  This teacher and likely the platoon leader were the only true people of authority that Arla had noticed. Meanwhile, the other students, some of whom were trying to blend into the various classrooms were likely of lower birth and status.

  At least, these were the ideas that Arla speculated.

  For she doubted that true nobility, even watered down nobility would stoop so low as to apply for spying missions on a Federation campus, despite the intended objective.

  It was also clear that based on the idea that this was happening to all of the military academies of the universe that theirs was not an isolated incident. That means that even more resources would be needed for this objective.

  Fortunately, since this was the Cerusian course, that is the one being offered to teach others about the Cerusian customs and language, the new Cerusian students were blessedly not present. This meant that from Arla’s perspective, all she had to do was keep her head down and avoid drawing the attention of this lone instructor.

  With a stern glance the Cerusian instructor strode in, a note of power and authority in her movements. While she seemed to exude an aura of suppression around her, one that many instinctively followed, there were those who seemed to be out of the radius of the aura’s effects. Or completely unaware of the noted decorum for Cerusian instructors.

  This was a cultural thing, as many of the students that continued to talk were asking banal things like, “how many more weeks of these courses are left?”

  “When can we get back to our chosen languages?”

  “Why are my projects still due, when I am not going to be in classes for the next month,” and so on.

  Seeing the continued conversations, and feeling slighted instructor paused, stared, gathered power and then with a refined note of power she executed.

  Sparking shock!

  A wave of electricity rolled out, bypassing the nearby row of cowed students and seeming to launch at and envelope the gaggle that had up until this point been protected by distance from the instructor.

  The attack was masterful, both in execution, targeting only the gaggle of speaking students and those around them. That is, the students that could have told the speaking students to hush up. Even the amount of force used was minor, just enough for a sudden jolt of pain, little more than a static jolt of electricity, but enough to get everyone to perk up at the display.

  With her attack executed, the crone waited, all but relishing the chance to execute another surge of power.

  Yet, her initial attack had done its job, as soon everyone became quiet and an odd hush of a suddenly quiet amphitheater, where only the breaths of hundreds of people could be heard and felt rang out in echoing silence.

  Pleased with the sudden response, the crone nodded and proceeded to make her way up to the podium.

  Once there, she began to speak, as she slowly turned to make eye contact with each and every student. As her eyes scanned the room, she paused just long enough to seemingly grab everyone’s facial features, before moving on.

  “Greetings, I have asked to take on the task of affording you the privilege of learning from and hearing the Divine Language from a native speaker. Know that I am not here for myself, or out of any sense of duty, but for the fact that my Matriarch herself asked for this,” the instructor began to speak, her eyes never stopping their slow and seeming mechanical movement around the room.

  Then with a start, Arla realized that this was likely exactly what she was doing, as there was a hint of blue energy for memory and vision enhancement that seemed to flow around the woman as she scanned each and every student in attendance.

  She was on the row below, when it happened. Her gaze suddenly jumped from the student below Arla, straight up to her.

  Gasp.

  There was a moment a connection, as the two seemed to stare at each other for what felt like an eternity, but was really just seconds. The pause went on so long that for a moment the instructor seemed to have forgotten her place in her obviously prepared speech before shaking her head, and once again beginning her scan of the row below her.

  Even as her eyes moved on, Arla was almost certain that she could now feel the intense gaze of the instructor peering at her from the corner of her eye, before going up a row and once again making her way down. Until their eyes met once more.

  This time there was still a pause, but it was shorter, more of a sharp intake of breath when exiting the warm confines of the dorms and being exposed to the cold bitter winds of winter. Then once she regained her breath, she continued on, never losing a beat in her speech.

  “I don’t expect you to learn our tongue, all I expect is for you to be quiet when in class and only speak when spoken to…” She continued.

  On the speech went, each word more inflammatory than the last.

  It was clear that she did not want to be here, that she thought this class was beneath her.

  “Any questions?” She asked.

  Arla was about to shake her head no, but then realized everyone was just staring at her with confused looks on their faces.

  Pausing to understand the confusion, why no one was speaking or responding to her obvious end to her monologue. A diatribe of vitriol towards her being forced to stand here and teach people that would die off in wars in less than a few years.

  That pause, that moment needed for Arla to sit back and think was the only thing that kept Arla from giving away her secret. Though she might have already been too late, had the stares been anything to go by.

  “Now then, let me state my mission directive in the common tongue so that you can hopefully learn through our immersion method. I am Dr. Sophilia Hylanthian, and it is my honor and privilege to be here and help you learn about our wonderful culture and language…”

  As she spoke, it took every effort Arla had to reign in her facial expressions and act as if she was hearing her speak for the first time.

  Also, it was clear that this was but one of many tests that were likely to follow.

  pause my release schedule until 06 March 2025.