Chapter 4: Twenty-Four Hours’ Notice

Chapter 4: Twenty-Four Hours’ Notice

Silas woke with his cheek against the floor and the desk drawer digging into his shoulder.

Morning light filled the studio. He had missed the entire night. Silas lay still for another minute, waiting for the ache in his shoulder to ease enough to move. Somewhere outside, students shouted to one another across the courtyard. Wheels rattled over stone, doors opened and closed, and he could hear footsteps passing his room through the closed door.

The academy was getting on with its first full day of term.

Silas got one hand around the desk leg and pulled himself upright. He made it as far as sitting before the room tilted, so he waited and tried again.

Check the Talent.

[Remote Grasp — C-Rank. Permanent.]

[Temporary Talent Slot: 0/1 — empty.]

He read the first line twice, then used Remote Grasp to pull a glass from the shelf. He caught it in his hand and sat holding it for a moment before remembering he needed water.

His voice sounded terrible. He used the desk to stand, crossed to the kitchenette with the glass, and drank until his stomach complained. The delivery compartment held cold soup and flatbread from the previous evening. He ate both slowly, took the ordinary fever medicine he had ordered earlier in the week, and sat on the bed while his hands stopped shaking.

A burst of laughter outside interrupted his breakfast. He listened for a knock, then went back to eating when the voices moved on.

The academy terminal chimed.

[Term-opening residence inspection scheduled.]

[East Residential Range. Attendance compulsory.]

A senior dorm prefect would inspect the room’s safety wards, mana outlets, delivery compartment, structural condition, and prohibited-equipment readings. Silas opened the attached regulations and searched for a medical postponement.

It required a physician’s report.

He did not have one.

The ordinary postponement moved the inspection by a single day. Refusing twice permitted supervised entry by dormitory security. A residence that could not be verified would be placed under assignment review.

Silas opened that section.

Unsafe or improperly occupied rooms could be sealed, repaired, or reassigned. The student would receive temporary accommodation elsewhere.

They can move me.

His studio was an old room in one of the cheaper residential wings. Nobody at the academy knew that his SSS Talent recognized these walls as home. If a prefect decided the room was unsafe, Silas could be moved with a few signatures.

He would have to get this exact studio back. Assigning his Talent to whatever room they offered instead required an SSS-Rank heart.

Over a fucking inspection.

Silas accepted the inspection. The appointment appeared for second bell the following morning.

Then he went to the storage cabinet and took out the supplement case.

Thirty pale-glass vials rested in straw beneath the seal of House Rooke. He placed the empty vial beside them and stood looking at both.

His first impulse was to hand everything to the prefect. The academy had healers and laboratories. Someone there could tell him what the original Silas had swallowed.

But a report would create questions. Those questions might reach House Rooke, the supplier, or whoever had handled the deliveries. The original Silas had taken the supplements for months without suspecting anything. The person responsible had been patient.

If they find out I noticed, they can try something else.

He tried to think of someone at home he could trust to help. His father had sent him here to get him out of the estate. Tristan and Celia would hardly put themselves out for him.

A baron’s son dying at Crownless would cause a fuss, of course. Letters, demands for an explanation. He could imagine his father’s anger over the insult to the family. He had more trouble imagining anyone still asking questions a month after the academy called it an illness.

I can barely get to the bathroom. What am I going to do if they come here?

Silas closed the supplement case.

He pulled the old travel trunk from the storage alcove and put the case beneath winter clothing and lecture notes. The empty vial went into a rolled sock before he placed it beside the case. It looked ridiculous, but it would not rattle. He fastened the trunk and pushed it behind two ordinary storage boxes.

The rest of the cleaning was easier. Remote Grasp returned books and training objects to their places while he wiped the mark from the ceiling. He left two medicine bottles on the shelf. His face already announced that he was sick; hiding the medicine would accomplish nothing.

By the time he finished, sweat had soaked the back of his shirt. He changed, washed his face, and went to bed early.

Talia Veyne knocked at second bell the next morning.

She was shorter than Silas, with dark hair pinned back and a silver prefect band on one sleeve. An inspection slate rested under her arm.

At the sight of her, Silas nearly stepped back into the room.

A corridor surfaced in his inherited memory. The original Silas had been holding a practice rod in the air with Remote Grasp while two younger students stood against the wall. Talia had taken the rod out of his control and informed him that a second complaint would be filed in writing.

He remembered her from the game too. She appeared during several first-year incidents, usually when students damaged a dormitory or attacked someone where they thought nobody was watching. At some point later in the story, she died. Silas could not remember the quest or even the year.

"Rooke," Talia said. "Are you letting me in?"

Silas stepped aside.

The appraisal appeared as soon as she crossed the threshold.

[Guest: Talia Veyne. Human, 19.]

[Combat Rank: Rank Two — Late.]

[Soul Talent: Boundary Ward — B / Rare.]

[Threat assessment — outside residence: severe.]

[Threat assessment — within residence: substantial.]

[Talent Record available: Boundary Ward — B-Rank.]

[Record Talent?]

Yes.

[Boundary Ward recorded.]

[Compatibility: High.]

[Assimilation: 0%.]

[Remaining Duration: 7 days.]

Talia wiped her boots on the mat and opened her slate without any sign that she had noticed the recording.

"This should take ten minutes," she said. "You’ll need to sign when I’m finished."

"Then get on with it," Silas said.

Talia held out a finger to keep the door from swinging shut. "Leave this open, please. Inspection rule."

She began with the safety plate beside the entrance. Silas watched her touch two fingers to the metal and feed mana through the existing ward lines. Boundary Ward responded inside him, but the sensation told him very little. He knew she was doing something correctly. That was all.

Talia checked the delivery compartment next and read its recent activity.

"Any trouble with deliveries?" Talia asked. "You’ve placed a fair number of extra orders."

"I’ve eaten them, if that’s what you want to know."

"I’m checking the compartment. Does it open when it should?" ℴℴ𝘮

"Yes," Silas said. He wished she had asked that first.

She moved on to the window seals, mana outlets, bathroom vent, and the structural plates set into the walls. Silas followed her for the first few minutes. Standing became uncomfortable, so he stopped near the middle of the room and let her work.

Talia brought the scanning plate to the storage alcove.

Silas straightened before he could stop himself.

The plate hummed while a pale line crossed its surface. Nothing registered.

"Anything restricted in those boxes?" Talia asked.

"Clothes and private papers."

His answer came too quickly.

Talia looked at him, then returned her attention to the scanner. "No weapons, volatile materials, or unregistered devices?"

"No."

The line completed its pass without changing color. Talia recorded the result and lowered the plate.

"Clear," she said.

She moved toward the bathroom without asking him to open the trunk. Silas stayed where he was until the scanning plate stopped humming.

Leave it alone. Don’t look at it again.

When Talia returned, Silas had one hand on the desk. He removed it and immediately had to put it back.

"Sit down," she said.

"I’m fine."

"You’re about to fall."

Silas sat on the bed.

Talia glanced at the medicine, the untouched breakfast in the delivery compartment, and his hands. "When did you last see a healer?"

"I don’t remember."

"Recently?"

"No."

She entered something on her slate. "Your door has barely opened since last week. Is there anyone checking on you?"

"I’ve been training."

"Then a physician can decide whether that’s the problem," Talia said. "I can’t sign you off in this condition."

Silas said nothing.

"You can go to the infirmary today," she continued, "or I can arrange for an academy physician to examine you here within twenty-four hours. If you refuse both, the medical office takes over."

The infirmary was across campus. He would have to cross the dormitory, descend several flights of stairs, and walk through grounds crowded with students who knew Silas Rooke.

"Send the physician."

"Tomorrow morning?" Talia asked.

"Fine. What time?" Silas asked. He would rather know than spend all morning waiting.

"I’ll send the appointment through. You need to let her in when she arrives." Talia entered the request. "If you get worse tonight, use the medical call on your terminal. Don’t wait for her."

"I understood."

She finished the remaining checks and handed him the slate.

[Residence Inspection: Passed.]

[Medical Follow-Up: Required within 24 hours.]

Silas approved the report. Talia left without mentioning the storage trunk again.

He locked the door and waited until her footsteps disappeared down the corridor.

Boundary Ward occupied his temporary slot at zero percent.

He should have rested. Instead, he took the chalk from his desk and made one mark beside the window and another on the frame. Remote Grasp placed them cleanly despite the tremor in his fingers.

One try.

Silas pushed mana toward the first mark. A thin line formed and reached several inches toward the second before breaking. The backlash struck behind his eyes and left the metallic taste of the supplements in his mouth.

He waited for the pain to ease and tried twice more. The second line reached farther. The third failed immediately.

[Assimilation: 0%.]

Silas put the chalk down.

Tomorrow morning, an academy physician would come through his door. The vials remained hidden in the trunk, and he still had not decided whether to show them to her.