The crater still smoldered beneath the pale afternoon sky.
The broken marble tiles lay scattered like shattered teeth across the Xavierius estate. Mana lamps had melted into twisted glass and the scent of scorched earth clung to the air, refusing to fade.
Inside the council chamber, the mood was colder than the stone floor.
Harry Xavierius stood at the head of the long table while Angus and several elders sat in silence. Their expressions were grim and their thoughts were sharper than the weapons at their waists.
"Who do you think that helped us?" Harry finally asked.
The question was simple but the implication was not.
Angus folded his hands calmly, "Although flare magic is closely associated with the Herbiens family, we cannot conclude the caster belongs to them. After all, the talent sometime exists outside their lineage."
One elder nodded, "The area of effect alone suggests the caster was an expert. The strike was decisive with no wasted mana and no lingering presence."
Another added quietly, "They left immediately after killing the dark wizard. If the helper lacked confidence, they would have remained hidden nearby and Angus would have detected them."
"If I had sensed the consistent residual mana with a nearby observer," Angus said evenly, "I would have pursued the person."
The silence deepened before the conversation pushed forward.
"Except the Herbiens," one elder muttered, "Who else possesses such flare magic at that level? Advancing to such an expert requires resources, tutors, magic stones, and years of stable cultivation."
Harry's gaze darkened slightly, "Unless someone has access to royal backing…"
The word royalty hung in the air like a blade that was suspended by a thread.
Harry did not immediately continue. Instead, he let the implication settle.
Outside the chamber, the servants were repairing stone and sweeping ash as if nothing extraordinary had happened. Inside, everyone understood that this was no simple matter of gratitude toward an unknown savior.
After all, the royal backing meant oversight and such oversight meant the interference.
"What will we do if it is royalty?" one elder asked quietly, "What does the earlier action imply? Is it a surveillance, a test, or a warning?"
No one answered such difficult question.
Angus' gaze drifted toward the window, directing toward the faint shimmer of residual mana that was still clinging to the horizon.
"The strike was precise," he said slowly, "It was not the reckless one since the dark wizard was eliminated before she could unleash a second large-scale incantation. That timing suggested the familiarity with her casting rhythm."
"You mean the helper was either observing her beforehand or recognizing her from the very beginning?" Harry asked.
"It is possible…"
The atmosphere tightened, making their imagination went wildly.
"If someone has been observing a dark wizard within our territory," another elder muttered, "And chose not to inform us until the final moment, that is not assistance. That is calculation beyond the hidden motive."
Harry's fingers tapped lightly against the table, "What kind of calculation then?"
"To measure our response," the elder replied, "To see how quickly we mobilize or to see whether Angus can counter such a threat alone."
The implication shifted again because inside their heads, there was an important question.
What if the flare detonation was not merely a rescue but evaluation?
Angus' expression did not change, yet a faint chill flickered across the room.
"If it were a test," Harry said quietly, "Then we have already revealed our defensive gaps."
"No…" Angus corrected calmly, "We revealed that we required assistance."
That distinction was worse since it meant Xavierius was already hopeless.
Another elder leaned forward. "There is also another possibility."
"Speak..."
"The flare magic was too clean anyway."
"Too clean?" Harry repeated.
"Yes. Flare magic, especially at high output, leaves distortion in the surrounding mana flow. The residual heat alone should have lingered longer yet the traces dissipated unnaturally fast."
Angus narrowed his eyes slightly, "I noticed that as well."
The elder continued, "It is almost as if the caster controlled not only ignition but dispersion."
The silence thickened because that level of precision was not common, even among the experts.
"Could it be a modified magic?" someone asked.
"Or a composite technique…" Angus said thoughtfully, "Flare magic that was infused with another magic stone or tools to erase the traces."
Harry's gaze sharpened, "Are you suggesting something else?"
"I am suggesting…" Angus replied, "That we may be looking at someone who wishes us to believe it was flare magic purely."
The words fell like quiet thunder since it already meant the deliberate misdirection.
If the Herbiens were blamed, the suspicion would shift naturally toward them. Their pride would ignite and the tension between the families would rise.
Someone could benefit from that, and for such case, Harry could only lean back slowly.
"So, the helper might not only be powerful but it was also intentional."
"Yes..."
"And if it was indeed intentional…" Harry continued, "Then, this was not a coincidence."
The dark wizard's arrival, the dramatic intervention, and the disappearance of the person. All of it could be threads in a larger design.
For the first time since the explosion, the elders did not look relieved.
They looked unsettled because an unknown savior was manageable but an unseen strategist was far more dangerous.
Only after several long breaths did someone finally speak again.
"There is that possibility…" another elder admitted, "The kingdom guards secrets that even we cannot see. There will be hidden knights, hidden wizards, and hidden agendas."
"We have no proof of their involvement in the end…" Angus said.
"Indeed, we don't have it…"
"Do we inform the Herbiens family?" an elder asked.
Immediately, a few others shook their heads.
"I would advise against it. The pride of Herbiens is excessive. If they believe someone is imitating their lineage magic, they will pursue that person relentlessly."
"If that pursuit lands in our territory, it will destabilize everything."
Harry exhaled slowly, "In summary, we should remain silent."
"Agreed..."
"The appearance of a dark wizard alone is dangerous enough. If the word spreads, the merchants will withdraw, the nobles will question our security, and our influence will weaken."
The decision was made and the hidden helper would remain unnamed.
The flare explosion would remain a mystery and the dead dark wizard would become a secret that was buried beneath soil and politics.
*****
While everyone was busy, Alicia stood quietly near the window.
She had no seat at the table yet she had a place in the room.
Her warning about the dark wizard had saved the family from humiliation. That alone earned her a merit. Harry had allowed her to remain, not as a daughter, but as a future leader in training.
Every decision had weight and every secret had value.
If the family informed the kingdom, the credit would partially belong to her. More merit meant more authority and more authority meant independence.
Such independence meant she could decide her own fate.
Even Clark's issue could be resolved once she held the real power.
Outwardly, she remained calm, but inwardly, the ambition stirred like a quiet fire.
When the meeting ended, she excused herself because there was someone she wished to see.
*****
In the meantime, Baston's room was empty. The bed was untouched and the library also did not contain him either. The servants could only shake their heads when Alicia asked them about the fat boy.
"He was not in the garden..."
"He did not pass the kitchens…"
"He did not linger in the corridor…"
Having a big house sometime was a hassle. Alicia was pondering where was Baston at this time.
She stepped beyond the mansion doors and wandered along the quiet lakeside path. She was looking for him alone until she found him.
Sitting by himself near the lake, he was still and unmoving. He was watching the ripples as if they were speaking to him.
She approached quietly and sat beside him without speaking.
Time passed and the wind moved gently across the surface of the lake. Only at that time, Baston finally noticed her presence.
"Is there something you want to talk?" he asked calmly.
"Yes..." she looked at the lake rather than at him, "Because of your information, my importance has increased again in the family. The elders were very impressed toward me."
"I see..."
The silence returned and it was strange at the moment.
Most boys would have seized this opportunity which was to praise her, flatter her, or boast about themselves.
Baston did none of those things because he simply looked back at the lake.
Alicia found that irritating and interesting at the same time.
"Are you the one who killed the dark wizard?" she asked suddenly.
The question cut through the quiet air like a thin blade. Baston blinked to show his ignorance.
"Of course not…" he answered.
Alicia tilted her head slightly, "They said the person used flare magic while you used ice."
"Yes…"
"It seems there's no connection between you and that person."
"Indeed..."
"But…" she continued softly, "I feel like you were involved."
Baston did not react outwardly but inside, his thoughts sharpened. Her intuition was dangerous. It was not because she had evidence but because she trusted her feeling.
"You're thinking too much," he said.
"Perhaps…"
Still, she did not withdraw the suspicion entirely. Instead, she changed direction of the conversation.
"I noticed you're always alone, even at the academy."
"I prefer quiet environment."
"You don't find it lonely?"
"No..."
He did not elaborate because the loneliness implied desire and desire implied weakness.
Alicia studied him carefully, and then, without warning, she lay down and placed her head on his lap.
The movement was sudden enough that even the wind seemed to pause.
Baston froze for half a second before he calmed down.
It must be a test since Alicia was not the coquettish type. She was more into the calculating one.
If he reacted eagerly, she would categorize him. If he panicked, she would dismiss him. If he avoided her, she would observe more.
In the end, Baston did the simplest thing.
He returned his gaze to the lake and ignored her. The silence stretched and it felt awkward.
Meanwhile, Alicia's heartbeat quickened.
She had expected something from him. Perhaps, a confusion, embarrassment, or a stammered apology.
Instead, there was nothing. He did not even look down at her.
The annoyance pricked her pride yet strangely, the relief accompanied it. At least, he was not like the others. After several minutes, she peeked upward.
He was thinking deeply and seriously as if the weight of the world was more important than the girl who was resting her head on his lap.
Her cheeks warmed slightly for reasons that she did not fully understand.
Eventually, she sat up abruptly and he still had not reacted in the end. Her irritation flared and without thinking, she pinched his cheek hard. He blinked and looked at her in confusion.
"Why did you pinch me?"
"Why you were ignoring me?"
"I was thinking..."
"About what?"
He hesitated to tell what he had been thinking after all this time.
It was just about how to widen the gap between ranks, how to face the stronger opponents, and how to manipulate the outcomes.
None of those were the answers that he could give.
"It's nothing important," he said instead.
Alicia frowned slightly, "Thinking too much actually can affect your health, you know."
He nodded and unexpectedly, he said something, "You're very independent."
She blinked, "What?"
"You try hard so no one looks down on you. That's admirable."
It was said without flirtation and without agenda. It was just his own observation. For a moment, she did not know how to respond.
He stood up, "I'm going back..."
He soon began walking, leaving her stunned. She could only follow him quietly while her mind was in disarray.
The lake reflected the sky and something within her shifted slightly.
*****
The next days passed without incident.
The repairs were completed discreetly and the rumors were contained.
The dark wizard's existence was never announced publicly. Slowly but sure, it was a time to return to the academy.
Baston stood near the carriage with visible reluctance. It was not because of politics and not because of danger but because of food.
The mansion's cuisine had been magnificent. There were tender meat, soft bread, and endless desserts.
He felt genuine sorrow leaving it behind.
Thankfully, the Xavierius family had prepared several travel provisions. The cakes and snacks were wrapped carefully, improving his mood immediately.
Meanwhile, Theodore approached Alicia before her departure.
"I hope you can find your true love," he said with forced calm, "Even if the present one is impossible."
Alicia frowned, "What are you talking about?"
However, Theodore had already entered his own carriage.
The misunderstanding remained alive and uncorrected. As the convoy departed, Alicia sat opposite Baston while her personal guards rode alongside.
Inside the carriage, the silence settled once more.
Baston munched quietly on a cake yet his mind was not on the sweets.
It was on the meeting, on the flare magic, and on the implication that he unintentionally created.
Until now, they were still searching for the hidden expert. They were measuring the influence and they were eliminating the possibilities.
He mentally reviewed the event from the beginning until the end. He wondered if he left anything traceable to himself.
At the present, the lake breeze had scattered most of it and the crater had been covered neatly. The evidence was almost gone slowly.
Anyway, four puppets now rested within his control. Each of them was linked by invisible threads and each of them was ready to obey his order.
He extended his perception subtly.
He found the range had increased, the command distance expanded, and the reaction time improved.
Such increasing performance yet the perfection attracted scrutiny.
He leaned back in the carriage and he closed his eyes while reviewing the future risks.
The dead dark wizard was only a piece and the mystery of the attack remained unresolved.
Someone had placed her here, someone had calculated this infiltration, and that someone was still hidden and watching.
Across from him, Alicia observed quietly.
Baston was eating but he was also distant. He was not carefree and not naive. There was weight behind those eyes.
She found herself wondering again, "Who are you, really?"
Outside the carriage window, the road stretched toward the academy.
Slowly, the road would be heading toward politics, toward youth masked as innocence, and toward a place where performance would once again determine the survival.
Inside the moving carriage, two young figures sat in silence.
Between them, there were unspoken questions, unresolved suspicions, and unacknowledged emotions.
The mystery was not over since it had merely changed a shape.