Dallion was back in the spike-filled room. Raven instantly collapsed to the ground. The events that took part in his realm had left him mentally and physically exhausted.

“Lux, heal him,” Dallion said, as he used a few simple spells to clear as much of the wreckage as possible. It was almost funny how he couldn’t do a spell that he had found so simple not too long ago. The spikes coming from the walls and ceiling were going to have to stay until mage reinforcements arrived. At least one would hope they would.

He’s gone, Gen said from Dallion’s realm.

“I know that.”

It’s not the worst thing. There was no way you could trust him after what he did.

That much was obvious. Dallion fully agreed, and yet he still felt a sort of emptiness inside. It was as if a landmark had gone; even more, it was as the father figure of his realm had upped and left. Dallion wasn’t ready to forgive him, not by a long shot, yet he still couldn’t find himself capable of hating the old echo.

“Will he be alright?” he looked at Raven.

Better than me, the armadil shield complained. He’ll need some care, but there are enough mages for that.

“Are you alright?”

Almost got cut in half a few times, but who’s counting? You really need to pick up your game for when you meet Grym.

“You think we’ll meet?”

It’s inevitable. He clearly doesn’t like you, and after what happened today, he’ll want to clear his record. Nobles hold grudges, especially those set on world domination. Trust me, I have personal experience.

No doubt the guardian was right. Even if the Academy kept the matter secret from the public, the whole group of traitors had seen everything that happened through the echoes within their puppets. If Dallion had to guess, they had probably killed off the echoes by now, leaving their puppets stringless and confused. The empire could interrogate them all they wanted, they could even enter their awakened realms, but they’ll only learn pieces of what they wanted to know. Meanwhile, the alliance was free to continue with their activities.

“How are things up—” Dallion began, but stopped himself. All the information about the outside world came from Nil.

As he stood there, Ruby flew onto his shoulder. The insect was soon followed by more shardflies.

You won? Several of them asked.

“No,” Dallion said. “They had run away before the fight began.” He glanced at the archmage’s body, then at Raven. “All I did was fight puppets.” It was a lie, but it saved a lot of explanations. “I think you should leave now. Mages will start showing up and they can’t talk to you.”

A wave of reluctance filled the room, emanating from the thousands of creatures.

“Go up, then south. I’ll make sure no one goes after you.” There was a bit of hesitation. “At the very least, I’ll give you a good head start.”

There was a fifty-fifty chance that the shardflies believed him. Dallion doubted they’d attack him, but he wasn’t fully convinced they’d leave either. That would make for another unpleasant clash in the skies above the archmage’s complex.

“There’s nothing to be gained,” he added, using his music skills to make them more agreeable. “This isn’t your reality, but you can still make some nests in it. The people are simple here. Most of them won’t bother you as long as they’re left alone.”

Just like us.

“Just like you.” Dallion forces a smile onto his face. “Go. I’ll take care of things.”

Nothing happened for the next few seconds, then a few shardflies flew out of the room. They were joined by several dozen more, then more. Soon enough, they were flying out in the thousands, heading straight up in the shape of a reversed tunnel. That was at least one less worry that Dallion had. Finding a relatively clean spot on the floor, Dallion sat down. Now that he was experiencing calm for such a long period of pressure, exhaustion hit him like a sledgehammer. It wasn’t enough to make him faint, but more than adequate to make him pensive and tired.

Eight minutes passed before the first group of mages arrived on the scene—not the White Eye, but a faction Dallion didn’t know anything about. Based on the low numbers and cyan robes, he assumed they were something similar to the battle mages. Each was wearing a large metal bracelet on the left hand, covered in an intricate pattern of magic threads.

No one asked any questions upon seeing the state of the room. They didn’t even bother to check the archmage for signs of life. One person went to the unconscious Raven and scoop him up. Two more indicated non-verbally that they wanted Dallion to follow them.

If Nil were still here, he’d have told Dallion all about them/ Most of all, he’d probably have told him not to mess about and do as ordered.

“Do I leave my gear?” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” a thin mage with massive sideburns said.

“And Ruby?”

“We know all about you pets, and your nature. Don’t do anything stupid and you’ll be fine.”

Funny thing to say, considering Dallion was partially responsible for the death of the archduke. Still, he didn’t intend to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The mages took him to a new cluster of buildings of the Academy, where he was placed in the most lavish prison cell one could imagine. Back on Earth, Roman emperors would be hard pressed to match the vast marble hall, complete with finely crafted furniture, lifelike statues, not to mention a wall made entirely of windows overlooking a majestic waterfall. Despite all the beauty, Dallion knew that he couldn’t leave the room unless he was allowed; and as for size, the place probably occupied the area of a storage closet if magic was removed.

Taking off his gear, Dallion then went to a large wooden bench covered in cushions and lied down. With nothing to do, he tried casting a simple spell, but the moment the magic threads left his fingers they unraveled, making it impossible to draw even a simple symbol.

An anti-magic room? Dallion thought.

He hadn’t heard any mention of this. Apparently, mages weren’t all-powerful as they liked to claim.

Hours passed. Dallion managed to take several naps, leaving his items and Ruby to watch over him. No one disturbed him for the rest of the day. In the evening, someone finally arrived; it was the mage with the sideburns. The emanations of low-level frustration emanating from him told Dallion that the situation had been contained, but the aftermath wasn’t good.

“Did we win?” Dallion asked.

“Depends on the “we.” The man placed the food on the nearest table. He didn’t seem to be in the mood to elaborate.

“Going to interrogate me?”

Novices were taught to be quiet, not make waves, and observe the Academy hierarchy. Yet, Dallion wasn’t just a novice, he was also a hunter. Hunters had to be as brazen as possible to get a better price for their skills. In this case, the approach didn’t seem to work. The mage looked at him with a cold expression. His lips moved, indicating he had a lot to say.

“You’re lucky you’re protected,” he hissed, then left.

If Dallion didn’t have music skills, he’d think that the whole thing was staged. Apparently, there was someone looking over him after all. After all that chaos that he’d brought, it was difficult to determine why. Whoever it was, though, didn’t seem to have absolute authority, for a proper interrogation took place the very next day.

Early in the morning, after Dallion had managed to get an unusually restful night of sleep, he was visited by two high-level mages, who asked him a number of questions in detail, going back to the events of the Nerosal festival.

Dallion had no intention of lying, but still paid special care to what words he used.

Hours passed. There was no break for lunch, or any lunch whatsoever. The mages kept on with their questions, often using magic vortexes to recreate the scene and have Dallion explain everything in detail. Despite the lack of visual detail, it was quite impressive, almost on par with movie VR Dallion had seen on Earth shows.

Adzorg was a particular topic of interest. The mages were very curious regarding any real-life interaction Dallion had had with the man. The library ring echo was completely ignored.

Argus was another favorite, though not Palag. Dallion could only assume that having the fury nearby made it unnecessary to rely on secondhand information.

“What about Eleria?” one of the mages asked. “How often have you seen her?”

“Eleria?” Dallion asked, surprised. “Not much. The first time was when I was hired to track down and destroy a dragon’s shadow. Why? Is she alright?”

“It’s unusual for someone so separated from the Academy proper to recommend an applicant.”

“I was told that was part of the process. Was she rogued?”

“And she didn’t share any specifics about her research?” the other mage interrupted.

“Nope, not particularly.” That wasn’t exactly true. Dallion knew it had to do with creatures, just as he knew that the woman had a phoenix feather with her. “Something to do with the local area, from what I remember.” He leaned slightly forward. “So, is she alive?”

The two mages looked at each other, after which one of them vanished.

“Thanks for the chart,” the other stood up.

“Glad to oblige.” Pressing his luck, Dallion added a subtle thread of calm into his words. “I take it everything is in order outside? No more attacks or shardfly outbreaks.”

“I would have preferred to have a living chameleon lizard,” the mage grumbled. “But yes, things are under control.”

“Anything more?”

“Don’t.” The mage darted Dallion a warning glance. “You’ll be told what’s needed.”

There didn’t seem to be any anger emanating from the man. Could it be that the man was grateful to Dallion? That left the door for some rather interesting question.

“Oh, and by the way, good thinking on saving Phoil,” the mage said as he went towards the door. “Not all of his echoes managed to pop out. We got some interesting info from there.”

Why are you telling me that? “Good to hear.” Dallion nodded. “How long will I remain here?”

“A few more days. The Learning Hall still needs some work.”

“Was there a second swarm of shardflies? I remember the building was—”

“It’s not just the building that needs fixing.” The mage’s tone hardened. “Get some rest. You’ll know when it’s safe to go.”

Definitely combat mages, Dallion thought.

The emperor must have sent them to resolve the Academy mess before focusing on the larger war. No doubt that would result in substantial territorial losses before things got stable enough for a decisive counterattack. For all Dallion knew, the empire might have lost three provices in the last few weeks: Dreud, Wetie, and another of the northern ones. If true, the overall territory of the empire had shrunk by half in a frightfully short period of time.

The “few more days” turned out to be well over a week. Boredom seeped in, infesting everything Dallion was doing. A large part of the time was spent in the awakening realms, talking with his echoes, guardians, and companions. Dallion would have welcomed teaching them skills, but there were no sources of magic he could use to boost them. For better or worse, he felt like being on a long vacation anxious at first, then marginally calm, pleasantly relaxed, and finally—bored beyond his skull.

Ruby seemed to share in the annoyance. The shardfly had quickly found that every inch of the room was protected, making drawing impossible. The only thing the creature could do was “spar” with Dallion in an attempt to grow a bit stronger.

Every day in the morning, a tray of food would magically appear. Getting all the info they needed from him, mages no longer bothered with personal visits. That didn’t stop them from monitoring, though. When Dallion voiced a request for a larger bathroom, he was instantly provided with one.

On the fifteenth day since his protective custody, the door finally opened again. Dallion split into a second instance to glance over his shoulder. Of all people, Katka emerged from outside.

“Congratulations.” She tossed him a green robe. “Let’s talk.”