As the evening gradually wore on and the feast finally began drawing to its close, students slowly filtered out from the Great Hall in long streams of shifting colors and murmuring conversation, each house separating naturally as they made their way toward their respective dormitories beneath the amber crystal light illuminating the ancient corridors of Excalibur Academy.
Yet despite the familiar routine that normally accompanied the first night of a new term, the atmosphere hanging over the student body now felt markedly different from years prior. The excitement, laughter, and warmth that had initially filled the hall earlier in the evening had long since faded beneath the oppressive tension left behind by the confrontation between Headmaster Blaise, the Visionaries, and the newly established Disciplinary Committee.
Amongst the younger students and those unfamiliar with the deeper workings of the Congregation, confusion and bewilderment lingered more than anything else. They whispered amongst themselves in uncertainty, struggling to fully grasp why the departure of the Visionaries and several professors had carried such weight, or why the older students now walked the halls with grim expressions and lowered voices. But amongst those already tied to the Clans and the High Table, the meaning behind what had transpired had been understood immediately and with chilling clarity.
They had not merely witnessed an administrative reform. They had witnessed a direct challenge against the balance of power governing Excalibur itself. And perhaps far beyond it.
Clan members walked beside one another in tense silence as they departed the hall, unease simmering quietly beneath their composed exteriors while minds already turned toward the inevitable consequences certain to follow. The Congregation had spent the past several months embedding itself into the very fabric of Excalibur Academy and Avalon beyond it, growing steadily in influence, reputation, and authority while the Clock Tower crumbled beneath corruption and political collapse. Now, for the first time, the faculty itself had openly moved against that influence, and everyone tied to the Clans could feel the shape of the coming conflict beginning to form.
Even Údar and the Hounds of Cú had been visibly disturbed by the evening's events. The fiery Irishwoman carried herself with the same defiant steel she always had, though Salazar noticed immediately that the look in her remaining eye had hardened considerably throughout Lucian's speech. Beside her, Cú wore the same animalistic glint in his gaze, his grin absent now while the rest of the Hounds lingered around them with expressions ranging from irritation to restrained hostility.
Though not a single word regarding allegiance had been spoken aloud between them, none had needed to be. Their loyalty remained firmly with the Congregation, and if anyone sought to threaten the Clans or tighten chains around their necks, then the Hounds of Cú fully intended to bare their fangs in return.
As the students dispersed, Salazar briefly exchanged a glance with Údar from across the corridor, and even that fleeting moment was enough for him to recognize that the stubborn Irish brute would never tolerate this quietly. If anything, she looked moments away from marching straight back into the Great Hall to challenge Lucian herself.
Eventually, goodnights and farewells were exchanged amongst the group, though even those familiar comforts now felt noticeably strained beneath the weight settling over them all. Helga had gone unusually quiet long before the feast had even ended, and for perhaps the first time since any of them had known her, the mountain of food stacked upon her plate had remained largely untouched alongside desserts she normally would have devoured without hesitation.
Rowena maintained her composure well enough outwardly, offering polite conversation and measured smiles whenever necessary, yet Salazar could see plainly that the evening's events had unsettled her deeply. Godric and Jeanne, meanwhile, could only exchange increasingly uneasy glances between themselves as though silently hoping sleep might somehow quiet the turmoil now spiraling through their thoughts.
As for Salazar himself, his mind had already begun dissecting the entire ordeal piece by piece with the same cold precision he normally reserved for riddles and political maneuvering. The questions came one after another as he departed the Great Hall and ascended the grand staircase alone, his polished shoes tapping softly against ancient stone while amber crystal light bathed the old castle walls in warm gold and deep shadow. Dust lingered faintly across ancient displays, cupboards, portraits, and carved décor lining the corridors while moonlight occasionally spilled through towering windows overlooking the sleeping city beyond.
His fingers tapped thoughtfully against his chin as he walked.
What exactly was Blaise attempting to achieve?
Was this truly about restoring control over the academy before the Congregation eclipsed the authority of the faculty entirely, or had the old Headmaster finally chosen to make a direct stand against the High Table after years of quietly tolerating its influence? Blaise had never hidden his distaste for the Congregation since assuming the Headmaster's chair, yet rumors had long circulated throughout both Excalibur and the Clans themselves that the old man had once sat amongst the High Table in his youth before abandoning it entirely. The contradiction fascinated Salazar almost as much as it unsettled him.
A faint, uneasy grin slowly tugged at the corner of his lips. Because regardless of Blaise's intentions, one thing had become painfully obvious tonight. The old Headmaster may very well have driven a wedge directly through the heart of the entire student body itself.
And with pride, authority, influence, and ideology all colliding beneath the same roof, it was only a matter of time before tempers finally ignited, restraint disappeared entirely, and Excalibur Academy found itself consumed by a conflict no less dangerous than the Siege that had nearly destroyed it before.
Suddenly, just as Salazar passed the mouth of a darkened side corridor tucked away from the main stairwell, something seized him sharply by the sleeve of his robes and yanked him sideways with enough force to pull a startled sound from the back of his throat. His emerald eyes widened almost comically as he stumbled into the dim corridor, the amber crystal light from the main hall fading behind him before his back struck cold stone with a solid thud.
Before he could even gather his bearings, soft lips crashed against his own.
Arms slipped around his neck while the familiar scent of sandalwood and parchment flooded his senses, and almost instantly the tension that had knotted itself through his thoughts all evening melted away beneath the warmth pressed against him. His expression softened at once as his own arms instinctively wrapped around the girl standing before him, drawing her closer while his eyes slowly drifted shut and he returned the kiss without hesitation.
Helena eventually pulled back just enough for breath, though only barely, her face lingering close to his while her half-lidded eyes gleamed beneath the dim crystal light spilling faintly into the corridor. A flush had spread warmly across her cheeks, though the smile tugging at her lips carried far too much satisfaction to suggest even the slightest trace of embarrassment.
"By the stars," she whispered softly, still holding onto him, "I've been wanting to do that since the moment I laid eyes on you tonight."
Salazar let out a quiet laugh beneath his breath, his emerald eyes slowly reopened to meet hers again while one hand slid gently through her auburn hair, smoothing back loose strands before pressing a lingering kiss against her forehead.
"Oh, Helena," he murmured, "have you truly lost all sense of decorum?" A grin tugging at his lips. "Though admittedly, I would be terribly dishonest if I claimed the sentiment was not entirely mutual." His fingers lingered softly against her cheek afterward. "I missed you. Genuinely."
"So did I," Helena admitted quietly while wrapping her arms more securely around his waist before resting her head against his chest, drawing in a slow breath as though grounding herself in his presence alone. She swayed faintly with him for a moment before eventually tilting her head upward once more so their eyes met again beneath the shadows of the corridor.
"I used to hate when summer ended," she confessed softly. "This time…" A small smile spread across her face. "I don't think it could've come quickly enough."
Salazar's grin sharpened immediately.
"Is that so?" he asked while tilting his head ever so slightly. "How curious, because from my perspective the castle was considerably more peaceful without your endlessly grating presence haunting the corridors."
Helena's expression flattened into an utterly unimpressed stare.
"I'll bite you."
"Ooh," Salazar replied at once, clearly delighted, "how positively scandalous." His grin widened further. "My dear, surely by now you know better than to threaten me with a pleasant evening."
Helena rolled her eyes so hard it nearly became theatrical, though the smile breaking across her face immediately afterward betrayed her entirely. Rising onto the tips of her toes, she leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against the bridge of his nose before pulling back just enough to admire the offended look now crossing his features.
"Gods, you really are such a snake," she muttered affectionately.
"And yet," Salazar replied smoothly while sliding an arm more securely around her waist, "you continue returning willingly."
Helena's smile softened.
"That," she whispered while resting her forehead gently against his chest once more, "might just be one of the many reasons I love you."
Her fingers slowly traced along his cheek afterward, brushing lightly against the sharp line of his jaw while her gaze lingered upon him with open affection.
"And believe me," she continued softly, "if I didn't have Dorm Monitor duty tonight, I'd already be dragging you straight to bed myself." She let out an exaggerated sigh of disappointment before leaning into him again. "But unfortunately, responsibility insists on ruining all my fun."
Salazar snorted quietly beneath his breath before reaching up to poke her lightly on the nose, earning an indignant scrunch of her face that immediately made his grin widen further.
"You are positively insatiable," he said. "Though worry not, my dear, the term has only just begun." His arm tightened comfortably around her waist as his emerald eyes gleamed with amusement. "I am certain we shall have more than enough opportunities to become… reacquainted with one another properly."
Helena narrowed her eyes at him despite the smile tugging relentlessly at the corners of her lips. "I'm holding you to that, Slytherin."
Her expression softened moments later, however, when she noticed the subtle shift in him beneath the teasing. The amusement lingering in Salazar's face had dimmed ever so slightly, replaced by the same thoughtful tension that had followed him ever since the events in the Great Hall.
"Something on your mind?" she asked quietly.
Salazar gave a faint shrug. "I suspect you already know the answer to that."
Helena sighed softly before finally stepping back from him, though only barely, her hands folding neatly behind her back as the warmth between them slowly gave way once more to the heavy reality hanging over the academy tonight.
"Yeah," she admitted. "The whole situation's gone completely sideways." Her expression tightened faintly. "Arthur and Artoria are probably absolutely mad as hell by now, and if I had to guess, the High Table's already convening as we speak." She shook her head lightly. "Sooner or later the Harbingers are going to rally the Overseers together, and honestly?" A weary breath escaped her. "I can't even blame them."
Salazar folded his arms before leaning back against the cold stone wall behind him, the amber crystal light catching faintly against the silver trim of his robes while his expression settled into thoughtful calm once more.
"I would be genuinely shocked if they didn't respond," he said. "However, I believe the overwhelming majority of students completely failed to notice the most important detail regarding tonight's little spectacle."
Helena raised an eyebrow. "What detail?"
Salazar's emerald eyes slowly lifted toward the distant corridor leading back toward the Great Hall.
"This was never merely a challenge directed toward the High Table," he said quietly. "Headmaster Blaise has effectively placed the entire student body on notice." A faint pause followed before his gaze returned to Helena. "More specifically, he is forcing every student within Excalibur Academy to confront where their allegiances truly lie."
Helena frowned slightly. "You mean between the school and the Congregation?"
"Precisely." Salazar's expression darkened faintly.
"Whether intentional or otherwise, Blaise has now framed those loyalties as mutually exclusive." His fingers tapped lightly against his sleeve while he spoke. "Remain merely students loyal to Excalibur Academy and the authority of its faculty, or align yourself openly with an organization he has now publicly branded rogue before the entire school."
Helena looked visibly unsettled by that interpretation.
"But that doesn't make any sense," she said. "The Congregation has existed since the founding of Excalibur itself." Her brow furrowed deeper as she spoke. "The Five Heroes built its foundations alongside the academy, and King Uther Pendragon the First practically wove its existence into Excalibur's history from the very beginning."
Her gaze settled fully upon Salazar once more.
"It's never truly been hidden," she continued. "Everyone important knows it exists. Blaise knows it exists. Every Headmaster before him knew it existed." She paused briefly, confusion lingering plainly across her face now. "So why now?"
"I'm afraid not even I can confidently attest to Headmaster Blaise's true intentions anymore," Salazar admitted quietly. Something genuinely rare flickering behind his emerald eyes.
Concern.
"My own theory," he continued while folding his arms more tightly across his chest, "is that this is ultimately an attempt to rebalance the scales. For years, the Congregation existed more as myth than institution. Stories. Rumors. Secretive gatherings and extracurricular escapades whispered about between students."
A faint scoff escaped him afterward. "Something tolerated rather than confronted directly." His expression darkened slightly. "But that illusion no longer exists."
Helena nodded grimly.
"No," she murmured. "Not even close."
Salazar's eyes narrowed.
"Alternatively," he continued, "this may simply be the culmination of Blaise's long-standing resentment toward the Congregation itself. The man has never hidden the fact that he merely tolerated its existence rather than approved of it."
He leaned his head lightly back against the stone wall. "Back when the Clans amounted to little more than glorified student organizations, I imagine he found them irritating but manageable." His gaze sharpened afterward. "Unfortunately for him, the Congregation evolved."
Helena instinctively glanced down both ends of the corridor afterward, making certain nobody lingered nearby close enough to overhear what they were discussing before lowering her voice further.
"Between you and me," she whispered, "the Congregation now holds the single largest share in Caerleon amongst all registered adventurer guilds." Her expression tightened. "Security contracts. Protection details. Retrieval operations. Escort work. Investigations. Practically every form of private contract flowing through the city now passes through the Congregation first."
Salazar's eyes flickered briefly toward her.
"And because their operating rates are lower while their payouts remain substantially higher," Helena continued, "they're effectively strangling the competition out of the market entirely." Her brows furrowed deeper. "Half the independent guilds in Caerleon are already struggling to stay afloat because they simply cannot compete."
A faint grimace crossed her face afterward.
"Whoever's in the Hellfire Club running the Congregation's commercial division knows exactly what they're doing." Her eyes narrowed. "And honestly? I'm fairly certain I already know who's behind it."
"You and I both," Salazar replied smoothly. "And therein lies the true problem."
He slowly exhaled softly before continuing.
"The Congregation has expanded far too quickly, and far too aggressively, for this to be some spontaneous evolution born from circumstance alone." His fingers tapped lightly against his sleeve while his thoughts visibly turned inward once more. "I would wager even the headmaster himself failed to anticipate the scale of what it would eventually become." His eyes darkened faintly. "Which leaves only one logical conclusion."
Helena remained silent.
"This was planned," Salazar said quietly. "Not recently. Not hastily. Decades ago." His gaze slowly lifted once more. "Someone built the foundations for this long before any of us were ever born and simply waited patiently for the correct moment to finally set the entire machine into motion."
For several seconds, Helena said nothing at all. Then she slowly rubbed at the bridge of her nose with visible exhaustion beginning to creep into her features.
"Salazar," she murmured, "I can't shake the feeling that all of this…" Her hand gestured vaguely toward the castle around them. "Everything happening right now feels like a busted crystal core waiting to explode."
Her expression tightened further.
"And I've known Gabriel for years," she continued. "And whenever he talked about Lucian, it was always the same thing." A weary breath escaped her afterward. "Passionate. Intelligent. Ambitious." She hesitated briefly. "But also reckless."
Salazar listened quietly.
"He always sounded like someone desperately trying to prove himself," Helena said. "The kind of person who throws himself headfirst into situations without fully understanding the consequences first." She looked away briefly. "And the worst part is…" Her tone lowered. "I know in my bones that eventually someone from one side or the other is going to do something incredibly stupid."
The silence following her words felt unbearably heavy.
"Between the election," Helena continued quietly, "the gangs tearing Caerleon apart, the Tower barely holding itself together, and now this…" She shook her head slowly before letting out a tired laugh devoid of any humor whatsoever. "By the stars, maybe I should've listened to my parents after all."
"Hey," Salazar said softly, pushing himself away from the wall before stepping toward her.
His arms slipped around Helena's waist and drew her close against him while she immediately folded herself into his embrace, her own arms wrapping securely around his middle as she rested her head against his chest beneath the dim amber glow of the corridor.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The distant sounds of students moving throughout the castle had faded almost entirely now, leaving behind only the quiet hum of crystal sconces and the soft rhythm of breathing shared between them.
"Whatever happens," Salazar murmured quietly while resting his chin lightly atop her head, "we'll get through this together, alright?"
Helena slowly lifted her gaze toward him, her brown eyes gentler now beneath the lingering worry clouding them.
"And I give you my word, my love," he continued.
Then the hallway changed.
The warmth lingering within the corridor suddenly felt thinner somehow, quieter in a way that prickled instinctively beneath the skin. At first it came as little more than a faint sound barely audible beneath the silence, low and distant like whispers slithering across stone, though with every passing second it steadily grew louder until the noise swelled into a chorus of hisses that seemed to seep into the very walls themselves.
Helena stiffened immediately. Her eyes widened as she looked around sharply, the sound surrounding them from every direction at once while the shadows stretching along the corridor suddenly felt unnaturally alive.
Then she looked back at Salazar, and froze.
His emerald eyes had changed. Amber now gleamed where green once rested, narrowed into thin serpentine slits that shimmered faintly beneath the crystal light while something ancient and monstrous seemed to stir silently beneath the calmness of his expression.
"For if anything were to happen to you," Salazar said quietly, though his words no longer sounded entirely his own beneath the layered hiss reverberating through the corridor, "if even the slightest misfortune were to befall you." His gaze held hers with terrifying stillness. "I swear to you now, Helena, there will be nothing left of Caerleon, Excalibur, nor even the Congregation itself."
The hissing intensified.
"In fact," he continued softly, "there would not even be bones left for the crows."
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the corridor fell silent once more. The oppressive sensation vanished and the hissing ceased entirely. Salazar's eyes slowly returned to their familiar polished emerald sheen as though nothing had happened at all. Helena stared at him for several long seconds before finally letting out a nervous laugh, one hand pressing lightly against her chest while she tried recovering from the sheer intensity of what she had just witnessed.
"That's…" She exhaled shakily despite the smile tugging reluctantly at her lips. "That's incredibly sweet in the most deeply horrifying way imaginable." Her eyes narrowed afterward. "But next time, perhaps try not to scare me half to death."
Salazar's grin returned almost immediately.
"Oh, my dear," he replied smoothly, "where precisely would the fun be in that?"
Helena gave him a thoroughly unimpressed stare before lifting her hand and flicking him sharply on the forehead. Salazar recoiled at once with a grimace, releasing her while rubbing the offended spot dramatically.
"Brute," he muttered beneath his breath, earning a quiet laugh from her in return.
Still smiling, Helena stepped forward one last time before pressing a lingering kiss against his lips.
"And yet," she whispered softly against them, "you adore me for it." She slowly pulled away afterward, though her fingers lingered briefly against his chest. "I'll see you later, alright?"
Salazar nodded faintly.
Helena turned then and began walking back toward the mouth of the corridor, her footsteps soft against the ancient stone floor before she eventually rounded the corner entirely. Just before disappearing from sight, however, she glanced back one final time toward him with a small smile lingering across her face.
Then she was gone.
A softer expression settled across Salazar's features as he watched the empty corridor where she had vanished moments before, though the silence lingering afterward lasted only briefly before the faint sound of hissing emerged once more from a nearby ventilation grille along the wall. Salazar's gaze shifted toward it calmly.
"Oh, Nirah," he said quietly while slipping his hands into the pockets of his robes, "you know me well enough by now." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though there was little amusement within it anymore. "I do not jest when it concerns something like this."
The hissing continued softly.
"I love that girl with all my heart," he murmured. "And if this world intends to take her from me the same way it stole Raine from Godric…" His emerald eyes darkened faintly beneath the amber light overhead as he slowly began making his way toward the corridor exit himself. "Then may the Gods be with whoever stands responsible."
A pause followed.
"Because nobody else will."
****
The air within the Headmaster's office felt unusually heavy that evening, thick with a pressure that seemed to settle into the lungs with every breath drawn. Amber crystal light flickered softly throughout the circular chamber, casting long restless shadows across towering bookshelves crowded with ancient tomes, scrolls, and relics accumulated over centuries of Excalibur's history. Portraits of Headmasters long since dead lined the stone walls in elaborate frames of oak, silver, and gilded gold, their painted eyes seeming almost unnervingly alive beneath the dim glow as they stared down toward the office floor with expressions that tonight felt far closer to judgment than quiet observation.
At the center of it all sat Headmaster Blaise Windsor behind the massive mahogany desk dominating the chamber.
Normally, the old Headmaster carried himself with a warmth that softened the intimidating grandeur surrounding him, yet tonight there was nothing remotely gentle lingering within his posture. Reclining against the velvet cushions of his towering chair, Blaise looked colder somehow beneath the shifting amber light, the shadows accentuating the hard lines of his face while his sapphire eyes remained fixed steadily upon the three professors standing before him.
Professor Ryan leaned against one of the rounded stone pillars lining the office interior with his arms folded tightly across his chest, though the posture did little to conceal the simmering anger radiating visibly from him. His dark eyes remained levelled squarely upon Blaise with the sort of restrained fury that looked dangerously close to boiling over entirely.
Nearby, Professor Kyar stood with her arms folded as well, the tiger therian's tail swaying sharply behind her while obsidian-black claws tapped rhythmically against the fur of her forearm in clear agitation. The low rumble occasionally vibrating from her throat only further betrayed the irritation simmering beneath her composure.
At the forefront of the desk stood Professor Serfence. Straight-backed as ever, impeccably dressed and perfectly composed outwardly, though the coldness in his expression carried enough restrained anger to chill the entire room. Even beneath the elegance of his usual demeanor, the fury lurking behind his eyes remained impossible to miss tonight.
Silence stretched heavily between all four of them. No one seemed particularly eager to speak first. Eventually, Blaise exhaled softly before finally breaking the oppressive quiet lingering throughout the office.
"Now then," he said, his words calm despite the tension saturating the room, "I take it the three of you have come here both to address the rather unfortunate developments of this evening and to voice your concerns regarding them." His sapphire eyes swept evenly across each of them in turn. "Am I correct?"
Ryan let out a sharp audible scoff.
"Concern?" he repeated flatly. "Cute." His jaw tightened visibly afterward while he pushed himself off the pillar slightly. "Trust me when I say concern sure as hell ain't the word I'd use right now."
"Headmaster," Serfence began smoothly, "with all due respect, and I do sincerely mean every ounce of that respect, you know better than most that I have never once questioned your leadership nor openly challenged your decisions." He paused briefly. "Certainly, there have been occasions where I believed your judgment perhaps… overly optimistic." His gaze hardened further. "But ultimately, I trusted you."
The silence following those words felt heavy.
"That being said," Serfence continued, "what transpired tonight was profoundly irresponsible." His hands folded neatly behind his back though the subtle tightening of his jaw betrayed how close his composure truly sat to snapping. "And to speak plainly, Headmaster, you have erred in a manner so severe that even I find myself struggling to justify maintaining faith in the wisdom behind it."
"What he said," Kyar growled immediately afterward, the faint rumble in her throat deepening while her tail lashed once behind her. "Because personally? None of us hauled tail through the fire and flames of the Siege just to watch this school stumble headfirst into another damned conflict."
Ryan rubbed a hand down his face before finally speaking again.
"I think what we're all trying to ask here, old man," he said bluntly while fixing Blaise with a hard stare, "is whether you've finally gone completely outta your damned mind."
Silence settled across the Headmaster's office once more, thick and oppressive. The tension lingering between the four of them felt almost tangible now, pressing heavily against the chamber walls. Several long moments passed before Blaise finally clasped his hands together atop the desk.
"I understand precisely what each of you are feeling at this moment," he said calmly, though the weariness lingering beneath his composed tone did little to soften the severity of his expression. "Anger. Frustration. Perhaps even betrayal." His sapphire eyes moved steadily between Ryan, Kyar, and Serfence in turn. "Emotions which, I assure you, I both anticipated and fully understand."
A faint breath escaped him afterward. "You are deeply devoted to this academy, to its students, and to the responsibilities entrusted to you as educators and protectors. For that, I cast absolutely no blame regarding your conduct this evening, nor do I hold your reactions against you personally."
His fingers interlocked more tightly.
"That being said," Blaise continued, "this was not some impulsive declaration made on a whim or born from pettiness, resentment, or wounded pride." His gaze sharpened faintly. "The decision reached tonight came following extensive deliberation and consideration regarding the future stability of Excalibur Academy itself."
He paused briefly. "And though I understand how difficult it may presently be for the three of you to believe such a thing, every measure taken tonight was done with the wellbeing of this institution firmly in mind."
"Oh, really?" Ryan dragged a hand through his hair before gesturing sharply toward Blaise with visible frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Because I gotta be honest with you, old man," he said, "right now I'm havin' one hell of a time figuring out how the gears in your head are actually turnin', because from where I'm standing, kickin' off what looks dangerously close to a civil war inside the student body barely months after we all survived the Siege doesn't exactly scream brilliant leadership to me."
His jaw tightened further as he continued.
"We just pulled this damned place outta the fire," Ryan said. "People died. Half the city's still rebuildin' and the other half's ready to tear itself apart every other damn week." His eyes narrowed hard at Blaise. "And somehow your answer to all that is to soak matches in gasoline and toss it straight onto the single biggest stack of dynamite currently sitting inside Excalibur?"
"Furthermore," Serfence interjected smoothly, though the restrained anger, "while I may share many of your concerns regarding the Congregation itself, and while I do sincerely believe they have expanded far beyond what was ever originally intended for this school, none of that alters the reality of what tonight has now set into motion."
He stepped closer toward the desk.
"You and I both understand this situation extends far beyond simple matters of discipline or decorum," Serfence continued. "We are no longer dealing with some secretive student organization operating quietly beneath the academy's nose." His expression darkened faintly. "The Congregation has legitimized itself amongst the people. Across Caerleon. Across Avalon itself."
Kyar's fangs barred. "And that's the damned problem," she growled. "People trust them now."
Serfence nodded faintly without taking his eyes off the Headmaster.
"Professor Kyar is indeed correct. The Tower's collapse created a vacuum," he said quietly. "And that the Congregation had filled it with alarming efficiency." His hands moved, gesturing with every word. "The people see them as protectors now. Contractors. Mercenaries. Problem-solvers. In some districts, they are trusted more readily than the Guardians themselves." A brief pause followed. "Whether we approve of that reality or not is entirely irrelevant. It is reality nonetheless."
"And when push finally comes to shove," Kyar said, "what exactly do you think is gonna happen when Prefects start crossing the line." She tilted her head slightly, ears twitching beneath the crystal light. "And don't even try denying it. I know Lucian. Had him in my class since he was a First Year." A scoff escaped her. "Boy's straighter than a Graphorn and just as relentless. Doesn't know when to back down, doesn't know when to quit, and becoming Head Prefect only made it worse."
"Not to mention, you've now got students lookin' at tonight like they're bein' forced to pick sides," Ryan muttered. "School or Congregation. Faculty or Clans." His eyes narrowed sharply. "Tell me honestly. Did you really think the ones runnin' the whole damned show are just gonna sit there smiling through that?"
Blaise's expression hardened at Ryan's words, and almost immediately the atmosphere within the office shifted alongside it. A suffocating pressure settled across the chamber with ancient, invisible weight, pressing against stone walls, shelves, furniture, and flesh alike until even the amber glow of the crystal sconces appeared dimmer beneath it. The portraits of Headmasters past lining the walls had fallen completely silent now, their painted eyes fixed squarely upon the confrontation unfolding below as though even they understood the gravity of what was taking place.
Serfence felt the shift instantly, as did Kyar and Ryan alike, though despite the danger now hanging palpably in the air, Ryan refused to yield beneath it. His expression remained firm and levelled toward the Headmaster, yet the tightening of his fingers betrayed instinctive readiness while beside him Serfence's gaze briefly flickered toward the concealed wand resting beneath his jacket before calmly returning toward Blaise once more.
The Headmaster slowly removed his glasses and placed them neatly upon the mahogany desk before folding his hands together once again.
"If I am to speak with complete honesty, Professor Ashford," Blaise said quietly, "I find myself possessing remarkably little concern regarding the High Table and the institution it claims to represent." His sapphire eyes shifted steadily from Ryan toward Serfence and Kyar in turn. "Nor do I particularly concern myself with the influence the Congregation now enjoys amongst the people of Caerleon, or even the standing they have achieved across Avalon itself."
His fingers interlocked more firmly atop the desk. "In truth, I pay extraordinarily little mind to those who occupy those chairs at all."
Ryan's jaw tightened visibly at that.
Blaise continued regardless.
"The Congregation," he said evenly, "is a farce. An institution that has drifted unchecked within the harbor of my patience and nested comfortably within the boundaries of my tolerance for far too long." His gaze remained unwavering now, colder than any of them had seen in years. "And that tolerance, my dear professors, has finally reached its conclusion."
The pressure saturating the office only deepened as Blaise leaned back into his chair once more, the crystal light casting dark outlines across the sharp edges of his features.
"Excalibur Academy is, first and foremost, a place of education," he continued. "A sanctuary for scholarship, learning, discipline, and growth. It was never intended to become a breeding ground for mercenaries, vigilantes, political factions, private armies, or whatever other fashionable forms of organized delinquency now masquerade as acceptable behavior within these walls."
His eyes narrowed faintly behind the glow of the office light. "Yet somewhere along the way, the students stopped viewing the Congregation as a dangerous extracurricular indulgence and instead began elevating it into something worthy of admiration."
Kyar's tail lashed sharply behind her again while Serfence remained perfectly still, though the tightening of his jaw betrayed precisely how poorly Blaise's words were being received.
"The students," Blaise continued firmly, "shall relearn the distinction between fantasy and responsibility. They shall remember precisely why they came to Excalibur Academy in the first place, and they shall understand that this institution exists to shape scholars, leaders, and protectors, not self-appointed warlords intoxicated by influence and violence."
His gaze sharpened further afterward. "And should they refuse to accept that reality, then they shall be reminded of their place within this academy accordingly."
His sapphire eyes darkened faintly.
"The Visionaries most of all."
Ryan, Kyar, and Serfence remained silent for several long moments afterward, each of them seemingly attempting to process the sheer weight of what Blaise had just said. The oppressive pressure saturating the office had not faded in the slightest, lingering heavily beneath the amber glow of the crystal sconces while the portraits lining the walls continued watching in unnerving silence.
Eventually, Ryan stepped toward the desk. One hand planted firmly against the mahogany surface as he leaned closer toward Blaise, his dark eyes locking squarely onto the Headmaster's sapphire gaze.
"Well," he said, the calmness in his tone somehow making the threat beneath it all the more dangerous, "like they say back home, you're the boss."
The corners of his jaw tightened.
"But lemme give you a little heads up before this whole thing goes completely to hell." He leaned further forward, his teeth briefly baring beneath the office light. "Because when this blows up in your damned face, and trust me, I'd bet every dollar I've got that it's gonna blow up spectacularly, there's somethin' I need you to understand real damn clearly."
The office had gone deathly still now.
"You know who I am," Ryan continued quietly. "And you know exactly what I used to do before I ever stepped foot into this damned school." His fingers curled faintly against the mahogany desk as tension bled visibly through his posture. "Killin' wizarding folks comes as naturally to me as breathing, and I'm telling you right now, if your brilliant plan somehow turns into some Excalibur Prison Experiment or Lord of the Flies level bullshit…"
"I won't even think twice." His words dropped lower, colder. "I'll put a bullet through your skull long before I ever point my gun at those kids." Ryan's stare never wavered for even a second. "You can take that to the bank, old man."
He straightened immediately afterward before turning sharply on his heel and stomping toward the office doors. The heavy wood burst open violently beneath the force of his exit, slamming hard enough against the stone wall that even several portraits visibly startled within their frames.
Silence lingered briefly in the aftermath. Then Serfence exhaled sharply.
"If there is one thing I find more revolting than your revelation tonight, Headmaster," he said while fixing Blaise with a cold, levelled stare, "it is the deeply unfortunate fact that you have somehow managed to place me in complete agreement with Professor Ashford."
"And believe me," Serfence continued, "that realization alone churns my stomach quite magnificently."
He gestured faintly toward the open doorway Ryan had just stormed through.
"And just so we are perfectly clear, Headmaster," Serfence said quietly, "you are beginning to sound alarmingly similar to Burgess."
The accusation lingered in the room like poison. Without waiting for a response, Serfence turned and made his way toward the exit himself, his robes sweeping sharply behind him as he disappeared beyond the doorway. Kyar remained where she stood for another moment longer, her sapphire blue eyes fixed squarely upon Blaise while irritation and disappointment warred visibly across her features. Eventually, she let out a low scoff beneath her breath before turning to follow after the others.
Yet just as she crossed the threshold, another figure appeared beyond the doorway. Professor Duchannes paused mid-step as her eyes met Kyar's. For a brief moment the tiger therian simply stared at the elven woman before shaking her head faintly and continuing down the corridor without another word. Agatha sighed softly before stepping into the office herself.
The heavy doors shut behind her with a low groan of old hinges. Behind the desk, Blaise finally exhaled before pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.
"Judging by the expressions upon their faces," Agatha remarked while approaching the desk, "I can safely assume the discussion did not proceed particularly well."
Blaise let out a quiet humorless chuckle.
"That," he replied, "would be a rather spectacular understatement, Agatha." He leaned back into his chair once more, fatigue creeping visibly into his features now that the others had departed. "Though I must confess, I am somewhat unaccustomed to having quite so many people so thoroughly furious with me simultaneously."
Agatha shook her head slowly, the disappointment in her expression far heavier than anger ever could have been. "Can you truly blame them?" she asked quietly. "Not merely for disagreeing with you, but for reacting the way they did tonight?"
She adjusted the rounded silver frames of her glasses before continuing, her emerald eyes fixed steadily upon Blaise. "A man as smart as you knows perfectly well that the decision itself is not what angered them most." Her gaze sharpened faintly. "It was the fact that you shut them out of it entirely."
The words lingered heavily between them.
"You chose to deliberate with Mister Graymark behind closed doors while keeping the rest of your faculty completely in the dark regarding a decision so staggeringly monumental." Agatha folded her arms lightly across her chest. "And that, Blaise, is something you have never once done before."
Blaise remained silent.
"For someone like Serfence especially," she continued, "a man you have trusted for years with some of the more unpleasant and morally questionable responsibilities required to keep this academy functioning." She let out a soft breath. "Wouldn't you think that a man like him would have been gravely wounded by your decision?"
For the first time since the confrontation had begun, Blaise's expression finally faltered, the coldness lingering within his sapphire eyes softening into something quieter, wearier, though he still said nothing in response.
"Furthermore, you and I have known one another for far too long for me to believe this was done merely out of arrogance or spite." Her eyes studied him carefully. "Whenever you willingly choose to cast yourself as the villain in someone else's story, there is almost always something else unfolding beneath the surface."
Blaise smiled faintly at that.
"Is there now?" he mused quietly. "Goodness, Agatha, am I truly so transparently nefarious?"
"Blaise," she sighed while pinching the bridge of her nose, "under normal circumstances I would happily indulge your endless need for poorly timed humor." Her gaze hardened slightly. "Unfortunately, this is not one of those circumstances."
"My apologies," Blaise replied softly. "I simply could not resist."
The faint humor faded quickly afterward. His gaze drifted toward the office windows overlooking distant Caerleon beyond the castle walls.
"But the city now stands upon the edge of something dangerous," he said quietly. "An election capable of reshaping not merely Caerleon itself, but Avalon in its entirety." His fingers folded together once more atop the desk. "Between the unrest spreading through the city, the collapse of faith in the Tower, the rise of the Congregation, and the chaos festering beneath it all." His expression darkened faintly. "I cannot shake the feeling that something far worse moves beneath the surface."
Agatha remained silent.
"Something patient," Blaise continued quietly. "Something cruel." His gaze slowly returned toward her. "Beyond the gangs. Beyond the election. Beyond even this school itself." A pause followed. "Machinations are already in motion, Agatha. Of that much, I am certain."
"Forgive me, Blaise, but I fail to see how this tangled web you've described has anything at all to do with what is now unfolding within Excalibur's walls," Agatha interjected, her emerald eyes narrowing faintly behind the lenses of her glasses. "Lucian, Gods bless the boy and that painfully uncompromising sense of justice of his, has completely failed to grasp the irony behind his own proposal."
"This so-called Disciplinary Committee of his is, for all intents and purposes, merely another faction. Another Congregation, if you will, only this one was created specifically to stand in direct opposition to the first."
Her expression hardened. "And as a former Chair yourself, Blaise, you are more than familiar with the Old Laws and the Old Ways." A pause followed. "As am I."
A soft, unsurprised smile tugged faintly at Blaise's lips.
"Indeed," he replied, "though contrary to your belief, Agatha, it has everything to do with it."
Agatha raised a brow but allowed him to continue.
"There was once a time," Blaise said quietly while leaning back into his chair, "where I wore my heart far too openly upon my sleeve. A time where trust came easily to me, and where I foolishly believed loyalty alone was enough to temper ambition." His sapphire eyes darkened faintly. "Unfortunately, I learned rather painfully that trust, when placed in the wrong hands, merely becomes another weapon."
He exhaled softly.
"I trusted Peter Creedy," Blaise continued. "A man, my former student, who grew fat upon his station while pilfering resources and influence from beneath my nose for years without my noticing." His jaw tightened slightly. "And worse still, I trusted Lamar Burgess."
The office grew quieter at the mention of the former Director's name.
"For if not for the courage of my students and fellow professors," Blaise said grimly, "my own carelessness would have allowed Burgess to erase Caerleon entirely from the face of Avalon after I so unwisely divulged the existence of an artefact of immense power hidden within Excalibur itself."
"And believe me," he murmured, "that particular failure is one I shall regret for the remainder of my days."
His eyes slowly returned to hers.
"And that is precisely why the stakes are now higher than they have ever been before." His expression softened slightly then, though the exhaustion behind it had become impossible to miss. "I realize fully how hypocritical this must sound given the circumstances, but now more than ever," Blaise paused briefly. "I need them to trust me."
His words lowered further. "As do you, the same way I have always placed my faith in each and every one of you." A faint sadness crept into his expression afterward. "Because despite my failures, despite my mistakes, I have never once given any of you cause to question where my loyalties truly lie." His sapphire eyes held hers steadily. "Not then. Not now."
Agatha's gaze slowly lowered toward the desk while concern crept visibly into her expression.
"Whatever it is you are planning, Blaise," she said quietly, "whatever game you believe yourself preparing for." Her eyes met his again. "I sincerely hope you know precisely what you are doing."
Blaise's tired smile returned faintly.
"Believe me, old friend," he murmured, "that is a sentiment we both happen to share."
****
As the night deepened further, an eerie stillness settled across Excalibur Academy, and through its endless hallways, sprawling staircases, and ancient stone corridors, the castle itself seemed to fall into an uneasy slumber beneath the amber glow of crystal sconces lining the walls. Their enchanted light washed over faded tapestries, weathered stonework, and polished marble floors with soft gold, though tonight even that warmth felt strangely muted beneath the heavy atmosphere lingering throughout the academy in the aftermath of Headmaster Blaise's declaration. Only the occasional footsteps of patrolling Prefects or roaming faculty disturbed the silence now, their movements echoing faintly through the vastness of the sleeping castle while the students themselves had long since retired to their respective dormitories.
The First Years, fresh from their Sorting Ceremony and still buzzing with nervous excitement, had been escorted toward their new lodgings with wide-eyed curiosity and restless enthusiasm, though even they had sensed the strange tension hanging over their seniors despite lacking the knowledge necessary to understand its cause.
Helena certainly noticed it, and in all her effort and restraint she had spent most of the evening attempting to keep the younger students distracted from the uneasy atmosphere permeating the Ignis Tower while she guided them through the tower, assigned rooms, answered frantic questions, and carefully smothered any curious inquiries regarding what had transpired in the Great Hall before rumors could spread any further. It was hardly unfamiliar work. After years serving as Dorm Monitor, the routine itself had become second nature to her by now, yet this term felt markedly different from the others.
Normally, the House Visionaries would make appearances following the feast, welcoming the new students personally before regaling them with tales from beyond Excalibur's walls, stories of adventure, glory, danger, and ambition meant to inspire fresh-faced First Years beginning their journey within the academy. Sometimes they offered warnings as well, cautioning students against wandering too deeply into Caerleon's more dangerous districts or reminding them that Avalon beyond the city walls was not nearly as forgiving as storybooks often made it seem. Tonight, however, none of the Visionaries had appeared at all, and Helena knew precisely why.
The thought lingered heavily in her mind as she stood within the Ignis common room beneath the crackling glow of the enormous enchanted fireplace dominating the chamber. Her eyes remained fixed upon the clipboard in her hands while her quill moved methodically down the list of names, crossing off students with practiced efficiency after escorting the final batch of First Years to their assigned rooms within the tower above, though even now she could not shake the growing unease curling within her chest.
As an Overseer of the Congregation, Helena knew exactly where the Visionaries currently were, and if she were being entirely honest with herself, a small selfish part of her remained grateful that her responsibilities did not extend high enough within the hierarchy to grant her knowledge of what was undoubtedly unfolding beyond the scope of her duties.
Even Eskel, her fellow Overseer within Aecor, had made an offhand remark earlier that evening suggesting whatever discussion was currently taking place amongst the High Table in the aftermath of Blaise's announcement would be anything but civil, and that thought alone sat heavily upon her shoulders because deep down Helena could not shake the dreadful certainty that Excalibur, Caerleon, and perhaps even Avalon itself now stood at the edge of something terrible. Something far worse than the Siege.
Deep beneath Excalibur's ancient foundations, concealed behind layers of enchantments and hidden passageways woven centuries ago to keep prying eyes away from the true heart of the Congregation, the vast understructure resting beneath the academy had also fallen unnaturally silent. The enormous chamber stretched endlessly beneath the castle like a hidden world unto itself, supported by colossal wooden beams and ancient arches rising several stories high beneath an enchanted glass ceiling that allowed pale moonlight to spill softly into the arena below.
At the center rested the great oval battleground, its sands ghostly beneath the silver glow while towering spectator stands surrounded it in every direction, though where roaring crowds, shouting Clan members, drunken wagers, and the thunderous chaos of competition normally dominated the space, tonight there remained only silence. The taverns lining the lower levels stood empty. Administrative desks abandoned. Hallways still beneath amber crystal light.
High above the arena itself, within the uppermost chamber overlooking the entire structure, five figures sat gathered around an enormous circular table stretching nearly eighteen feet from edge to edge.
Artoria occupied one chair while Arthur stood silently behind her with his arms folded tightly across his chest, the tension in his posture impossible to miss. Across from them sat the remaining Chairs of the High Table while their Seconds lingered nearby like silent shadows standing watch behind their respective leaders. Genji rested his elbow against the arm of his chair while tapping thoughtfully against his chin, his dark eyes hardened beneath the dim light while beside him stood Sarissa, the elven girl of Ventus, perfectly silent and unreadable.
Gabriel stood before the entire table, his hands clasped neatly behind his back while silence suffocated the chamber so thoroughly that no one seemed willing to speak first, because every person seated there understood that the first words uttered tonight would shatter whatever fragile restraint still remained holding the Congregation together.
Genji exhaled sharply, the sound cutting cleanly through the suffocating silence lingering around the High Table and drawing every set of eyes within the chamber toward him. His hazel eyes swept across the gathered Chairs while one hand rested lightly upon the hilt of the katana leaning beside his chair, the polished sheath catching fragments of moonlight spilling through the enchanted glass above.
"As much as I find tranquility in silence," he said, calm yet firm beneath the tension weighing upon the chamber, "I believe we have now sat within it long enough." His gaze narrowed faintly. "And if no one else is willing to address the erumpent in the room, then forgive me for doing so myself."
Gabriel immediately closed his eyes before lowering himself into a deep respectful bow.
"I offer my deepest and most sincere apologies," he said, steady despite the frustration clearly simmering beneath it. "I had my suspicions regarding Lucian's intentions, but never, not even once, did I believe he would attempt something so brazen." His eyes reopened slowly. "And so profoundly foolish."
"Raise your head, Gabriel," Artoria said evenly from across the table, her elbows resting against the polished surface while her fingers remained steepled beneath her chin. "The Table does not cast blame upon you." Her icy gaze softened only marginally. "The sins of your kin are not yours to bear."
"Although," Arthur interjected while leaning casually against the side of his sister's chair, "I must admit, Lucian clearly put quite a bit of thought into this little spectacle." A faint grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Honestly, I'm almost impressed. To not only reorganize the Prefects, but to somehow convince the Headmaster himself to go along with it?" He gave a soft whistle beneath his breath. "That sort of ambition doesn't happen overnight. Boy's probably been plotting this all summer. Perhaps longer."
Gabriel straightened with a visible sigh.
"My brother has always suffered from a rather severe… complex," he admitted while rubbing faintly at his temple. "This compulsive need to play arbiter, judge, and shining symbol of righteousness wherever he goes has always been particularly insufferable." A scoff escaped him afterward. "And becoming Head Prefect merely inflated the problem beyond reason."
"Regardless," Sarissa interjected smoothly while adjusting the square-framed glasses resting upon her nose, her icy blue eyes unreadable beneath the dim light, "it would appear that the Congregation now faces an unprecedented dilemma." Her gaze shifted around the table. "For the first time in its history, the threat against us originates not from beyond Excalibur's walls, but from the very institution beneath which we operate."
Genji nodded slowly in agreement.
"And furthermore," he continued, "those newly appointed Head Prefects concern me." His fingers tapped lightly once against the hilt of his blade. "Save for Mister Murdoc, the remaining two, and the two more yet to reveal themselves are complete unknowns. We possess neither knowledge of their history nor any meaningful understanding of their capabilities." His eyes hardened faintly afterward. "Yet even so, there is something about them I find strangely powerful."
A deafening crack suddenly echoed across the chamber.
Artoria's fist had slammed into the table hard enough to rattle goblets and send fractures spidering briefly through the polished surface before the enchanted wood repaired itself moments later. Even the remaining Chairs seated further down the table, their expressions largely obscured beneath shadow and silence until now, visibly stiffened at the outburst.
"That," Artoria said coldly, every syllable edged with restrained fury while her eyes burned like sharpened steel, "does not even begin to address the sheer effrontery we were forced to endure tonight."
Her fist remained clenched tightly against the table.
"What was done was not merely an insult." Her gaze darkened further. "It was a direct trespass against us as Visionaries, against the authority of the High Table itself, and against the honor we have bled to uphold." Her words sharpened. "We placed our lives and the lives of our Clans upon the line during the Siege at Blaise Windsor's request, and this is how our loyalty is repaid?"
Her teeth bared faintly.
"I swear before the Gods themselves," Artoria hissed, "I will have Lucian Graymark and every cur he dares call a Prefect challenged to a Bellum Inter Duos before the week is over."
Arthur immediately grimaced beside her.
"Easy now, sister," he said with a cheeky grin despite the tension filling the chamber. "Remember what Doctor Adani said regarding your blood pressure."
Artoria shot him a glare sharp enough to carve stone. Arthur sighed dramatically before lifting both hands in surrender.
"Believe me," he continued afterward, "I think I speak for all of us when I say being slighted hardly begins to cover what happened tonight." His expression dimmed slightly. "And as tempting as it would be to drag Lucian and his little committee into our world and force them to play by our rules." Arthur shook his head slowly. "That simply is not going to happen."
A soft chuckle suddenly broke the tension lingering around the chamber, drawing every eye toward the chair seated immediately to Artoria's right where Corvo lounged comfortably against the high backrest as though the suffocating atmosphere surrounding the High Table amused him more than concerned him. His fingers remained steepled before his lips while a faint simper tugged lazily across his face, dark eyes glinting beneath the moonlight spilling through the enchanted glass overhead.
"My word," Corvo mused, the amusement in his tone only further irritating the already volatile mood within the chamber, "I do not believe I have ever seen the great Dragon of Ignis quite so thoroughly rattled before."
Artoria's icy gaze snapped toward him immediately.
"Do you have something you wish to say, Corvo?" she asked coldly.
Almost everyone present visibly stiffened at that. Arthur looked as though he physically regretted hearing the question leave her mouth while Genji slowly closed his eyes for a brief moment as if silently praying for patience.
"Only this," Corvo replied smoothly while his dark eyes drifted leisurely across the gathered Chairs, drawing an almost collective groan from several members of the table before he had even properly begun.
"Oh, bloody hell," Arthur muttered beneath his breath while pinching the bridge of his nose. "Here we go again."
Corvo ignored him entirely.
"I sincerely believe all of you are blowing this matter wildly out of proportion," he continued while gesturing lazily upward toward the glowing crystal scone overhead, his expression turning almost wistful beneath the amber light. "We are, all of us, governed by these endlessly tedious notions of good and evil, righteousness and wickedness, heroes and villains." A faint chuckle escaped him. "Yet the amusing thing about morality is that it is ultimately nothing more than perspective."
His gaze slowly lowered toward Gabriel.
"Your brother, for example," Corvo said calmly, "almost certainly views himself as the noble hero within this little story unfolding around us." His smile widened faintly. "And naturally, that would make us the villains."
His hands spread outward theatrically.
"The dragons to be slain. The demons to be vanquished. The tyrants standing between the righteous and justice itself." Corvo covered part of his face briefly with one hand while laughing softly to himself. "Honestly, it's all rather adorable when you think about it."
Artoria's glare sharpened dangerously.
Corvo merely continued.
"But let us step back for one brief moment and ask the truly important question here," he said while spreading his arms wide across the table. "What exactly can Lucian Graymark and his little collection of overzealous Prefects realistically do to us?"
His eyes swept across the High Table slowly.
"Have we all somehow forgotten who we are?" Corvo asked quietly now, though the arrogance beneath his tone remained unmistakable. "The power we wield? The influence we command? The fact that every single one of us seated here has survived trials and conflicts that would utterly break lesser students?"
He leaned back further into his chair afterward, one leg crossing leisurely over the other while his elbow rested against the armrest and his chin settled lazily against his fist.
"And Gabriel," Corvo added with the faintest smirk curling across his lips, "I mean this with the least amount of disrespect imaginable, but your brother is not precisely what I would consider intimidating."
Gabriel's expression tightened immediately, and for the briefest moment, genuine offence flickered across his face before he forced it back beneath restraint.
"In another time, Corvo," Genji said calmly, drawing the chamber's attention back toward him, "perhaps I would have shared your confidence." His fingers tapped lightly against the hilt of his katana resting beside his chair while his hazel eyes hardened beneath the pale moonlight spilling across the table. "Unfortunately, we have all now witnessed firsthand that even the greatest pillars of strength may still be brought low by the most unlikely of hands."
Silence lingered while Genji continued.
"A man once feared throughout Avalon as the Reaper of the Reeds," he said quietly, "one of the Clock Tower's most formidable warriors, was defeated by a mere student."
Corvo's smirk faded slightly.
"Now, you may argue that the comparison is unfair," Genji admitted, "and perhaps you would even be correct." He rested a hand fully upon the hilt of his blade. "I possess absolute faith in my sword, and equally so in myself, but we now live in an age where certainty itself has become dangerously unreliable."
His gaze swept across the gathered Chairs.
"Director Burgess fell. Sheriff Hartshorne fell. The Clock Tower, once regarded as the unshakable heart of the Mage's Association and the Three Bodies, now limps forward as little more than a fractured shadow of its former authority." His expression darkened faintly. "Even the Wizarding Council, the definitive governing force of Avalon for centuries, now shares power uneasily beside the Council of Kings while teetering dangerously close to financial collapse."
The atmosphere around the table grew heavier still.
"I suppose what I am attempting to say, dear friends," Genji continued, "is that we can no longer afford to leave matters to chance simply because we believe ourselves untouchable." His eyes shifted toward Artoria then. "The same principle applies to the Congregation itself. In the aftermath of the Siege, we expanded rapidly. We grew stronger, wealthier, more influential. We earned legitimacy in the eyes of the people." A faint pause followed. "But in doing so, we also made ourselves vulnerable."
"Vulnerable?" Artoria repeated, her brow narrowing.
Genji nodded slowly.
"Because unlike Lucian and his Prefects playing make-belief with their pale imitation of the Clock Tower within Excalibur's walls," he said, "we possess something far more dangerous than ambition." His gaze swept across the table once more. "We possess something to lose."
No one interrupted him.
"I can feel it already," Genji said quietly. "Even if none of us wish to speak it aloud, lines have already been drawn in the sand tonight." His fingers tightened slightly against the hilt of his katana. "An ultimatum has been issued, whether the Headmaster intended it or not."
His eyes hardened afterward.
"And if this new Disciplinary Committee truly wishes for war with the Congregation." A long breath escaped him. "Then eventually, they shall have one." The chamber fell quieter still beneath his next words. "But I would strongly advise against allowing it to reach that point."
"And pray tell, Shimada," Corvo said smoothly, his dark eyes levelling upon Genji from across the table, "why exactly is that?"
"Because," Genji replied without hesitation, "as we all know, the Codex Duello was never merely written to govern honor disputes and Clan conflicts." His fingers rested firmly against the hilt of his katana while his gaze remained calm, though the weight behind his words settled heavily across the chamber. "Its true purpose was far simpler, and far more important. It exists to restrain the Congregation's more volatile elements from descending into outright war."
He drew a measured breath before continuing.
"At its very core lies a singular principle," Genji said quietly. "To prevent the students of Excalibur Academy from slaughtering one another within these walls and beyond them."
His eyes shifted toward Gabriel then. "And I fear your brother is foolish enough to genuinely believe this conflict he has initiated can somehow avoid bloodshed."
Silence followed that statement. Genji's grip tightened faintly around the hilt of his blade.
"Unfortunately," he continued, "if matters do escalate to that point, if we begin killing amongst ourselves in earnest…" His expression darkened. "Then I fear we may cross a line from which neither the Congregation nor Excalibur itself could ever truly recover."
The chamber fell still beneath the gravity of his words until Arthur finally cleared his throat.
"If I may offer a suggestion," he said while clasping his hands together thoughtfully, "I believe Genji is correct." He gestured lightly toward the Terra Visionary before shifting his attention toward Corvo. "And irritatingly enough, so is Corvo."
Corvo looked deeply pleased by that. Arthur leaned forward slightly, resting his chin upon folded fingers.
"Personally," he continued, "I think it's still somewhat premature to determine precisely where Lucian's little after-school project is ultimately heading." His expression dimmed slightly. "I'm not suggesting we lower our guard, nor am I dismissing the insult dealt to the High Table tonight, but perhaps we'd benefit more from observation rather than immediate retaliation."
"Agreed," Sarissa said while once more adjusting the square-framed glasses resting upon her nose. "For all we know, Headmaster Blaise may simply be placating Lucian's idealism rather than fully endorsing it." A faint sigh escaped her afterward. "And while Mister Graymark can be outwardly insufferable at the best of times, even he may not fully grasp the magnitude of what he has set into motion."
"Truer words have never been spoken, Miss Alfeld," Gabriel replied dryly. "As much as I would personally enjoy throttling some sense into my younger brother, any immediate action taken against him now would be rash." His gaze swept the table carefully. "We require more information first. On the new Head Prefects, on the structure of this Committee, and most importantly, on what exactly Lucian intends to do moving forward."
The remaining Chairs seated in shadow nodded subtly in agreement. A faint smirk slowly returned to Corvo's face.
"And if matters unfold exactly as anticipated?" he asked, his gaze settling squarely upon Genji once more. "Would you still oppose all-out war?"
Genji's expression tightened visibly at the question.
"If the Disciplinary Committee threatens everything we are," Artoria interjected before he could answer, immediately drawing every eye toward her, "and if they choose to push beyond their boundaries in pursuit of dismantling the Congregation entirely." Her silver-blue eyes hardened beneath the moonlight. "Then, and only then, shall we answer them with war."
She turned her gaze toward Gabriel afterward.
"And I sincerely hope," Artoria said coldly, "that you will harbor no resentment toward us for whatever fate ultimately befalls your brother."
Gabriel met her stare evenly, his jaw tightening while his chin lifted slightly in silent acceptance.
"Rules…" he said quietly.
"And consequences," the rest of the High Table answered in unison like an oath long etched into the very foundation of the Congregation itself.