A forced apology, drawn from a young noble’s mind, rarely held the scent of genuine remorse. Such overtures, from scions barely old enough to grasp the true weight of their whims, were often nothing more than transparent, shallow ploys, utterly devoid of sincerity. “You call that ‘just that’? How sharp. Have you not heard the old Lumina saying?” Kaelen leaned back, spine uncoiling from the chair’s embrace, and fixed his gaze upon the vaulted ceiling. Arms crossed, a slight smile played on his lips. His features, naturally cast in a somber mold, lent even his smiles an unsettling, almost melancholic quality. “A man, in essence, is either a hound or a child.” “...Seriously.” “No hound am I. Thus, regardless of how the years might pass, we remain mere children beneath this grand Ascendancy. What true difference does age impart to our follies?” Lord Vespin’s father, Archon Vespin, a hound? The thought was absurd. Kaelen offered a useless jest, then uncrossed his arms. I watched him, a familiar disbelief settling within me, reminded once more that his peculiar logic knew no bounds of time or decorum. “The cantrip-bell rings.” Kaelen sprang to his feet, snatching the vibrating brass bell from the small side-table. “Guard my things.” “What ‘things’...?” He ignored my question entirely. Kaelen strode off, returning moments later with a heavy tray in each hand. Honestly, I found myself dumbfounded. His hands were large, certainly, capable of gripping a single tray, but *two*— “Is that not burdensome?” “Hardly. The weight feels nominal.” One of them held a steaming, obsidian-glazed pot, for the Void’s sake. Yet, he set them both upon the table without so much as a grunt of exertion. Watching him, I felt a momentary stupor, and noticing my blank stare, Kaelen clicked his tongue, a sharp, dismissive sound. “Was my display of fortitude impressive, by any chance?” That was... quite the miscalculation on his part. “Just consume your meal in silence.” “How might one ingest with sealed lips? Like this?” I ignored Kaelen as he pressed his lips together and mimed bringing a spoon to them. Soon after, he grinned, teeth bared, before flopping back into his seat. Picking up my own spoon, I looked down into the nutrient paste before me. Slowly, I lowered my hand, disturbing the surface slightly. Kaelen blew on his own meal, then set his spoon down and began prodding the accompanying side dishes with his chopsticks. I was about to take a bite, but paused, my gaze inexplicably drawn to Kaelen’s hands. “I have been considering this for some time... You wield your eating implements with remarkable propriety.” “I? You perceive this?” “Indeed.” Yet, somehow, it did not suit him. It was too formal. The words remained unspoken. However, perhaps attempting to decipher my expression, Kaelen squinted before abruptly exclaiming, “Ah!” A sinister smirk then twisted his lips. “So, you discerned it.” “Discerned what?” My question was earnest. What could he possibly mean...? “You feign ignorance, do you not? Very well, you keen-eyed, quick-witted scholar. It is decided; I shall bring you into this as well.” Into what, precisely? I frowned at his incomprehensible words. Kaelen’s lips curled. “Indeed, when I confront Lord Vespin, there is a small matter in which I require your... assistance.” “What utter... Disregard it.” It was clearly some form of pretense, so I merely offered a halfhearted nod. Finishing his meal first, Kaelen tucked his hands into his pockets, simply observing me. The moment I concluded, he jerked his chin toward the Arcane Ward’s levitation lift. Then, without a Chronometer on his wrist, he repeatedly tapped his bare forearm as if urging me to hasten. “I am finished, cease your incessant prodding.” “We must adhere to visiting hours. You dawdle with such exquisite leisure.” “Oh, for the Void’s sake. Fine.” “Arise. Swiftly.” “I am arisen, I stated.” “Hurry and summon the lift.” “By the Star-Scribes...” Muttering irritably, I strode over and pressed the luminous activation rune. “Good chap!” “Desist...” I shot Kaelen a discreet glare. So, this individual grew insufferably persistent when he considered someone a confidante. It had taken me over six months to truly grasp this peculiar trait. Then again, it was not as if I had ever diligently sought to understand him. As we waited, Kaelen rubbed his fingers over the edge of the large cleansing-patch affixed to his jaw. The thick patch, previously firm against his skin, began to detach slightly. “Are you meant to remove it in such a manner?” “It vexes me. Washing my face becomes a trial.” Before I could respond, the lift doors parted with a soft hiss. Kaelen stepped inside and immediately pressed the appropriate floor rune without hesitation. As we ascended, he regarded his reflection in the polished obsidian panel and bared his teeth, muttering some incomprehensible nonsense about their alignment. I stole a glance at him. Kaelen bent slightly to better see himself in the reflective surface, hands still tucked into his pockets, an aura of careless defiance radiating from him. And by the Arcane, he possessed an absurdly tall frame. As I instinctively observed him, the lift reached our floor in but a few heartbeats. --- The corridor lay in utter silence. Kaelen jerked his chin towards a specific ward chamber. “That is the one.” His lips were slightly parted, his gaze downward, imbued with a casual arrogance. As the doors began to close behind us, we stepped out. However, Kaelen did not immediately proceed towards the designated room. I halted behind him, awaiting his next move. After a brief stillness, he resumed his walk, his unusually long legs striding forward with purposeful intent. Scratching at the adhesive edge of his cleansing-patch with his ring finger, he peeled it off in one swift motion. “Ah. Void take it. That smarts.” The discarded patch went straight into his pocket. His trousers, previously smooth, now bore a subtle bulge where it was stuffed. Turning, Kaelen looked at me. “...” His exposed jaw was a canvas of bluish and deep crimson bruising. Honestly, it appeared somewhat grotesque. Yet, Kaelen himself grinned with absolute confidence, which I found strangely eerie and unsettling. Especially with that perpetually sullen cast to his features—as if he were always plotting some intricate deception. “How do I appear? Sufficiently convincing?” Kaelen, always a purveyor of theatricality. Everything he uttered felt spontaneous, yet also deeply self-serving. He possessed a peculiar knack for attempting to persuade me with blatant absurdities, and at times, even entangled himself in his own intricate delusions. “...Who can say.” Suddenly, I recalled something he had mentioned but a few days prior. He had spoken of it as if it were another’s tale—how he had returned to the Temple of the Star-Scribes for the first time in seven cycles. Since his First Arcane Affirmation at eleven, it had been his first true confessional. His sin? Neglecting his prayers for seven cycles. He admitted he had only gone because he feared his father’s rebuke. The Acolyte had told him that approaching confession with such faith was, frankly, problematic. “Ah, my apologies for that.” He had intended to leave then, but somehow found himself reciting the final blessing in the Acolyte’s stead. The Acolyte had been utterly flustered. Even Kaelen only realized his actions after stepping from the confessional. “I wished for the Void to claim me from sheer embarrassment. Why, in all the Ascendancy, do they inscribe the prayer directly before one’s eyes like that?” Yet, Kaelen was assuredly not bound for the Temple this cycle either. That, precisely, was the nature of the man. “My parents and some others from the Temple kept inquiring why I had not attended. Is that truly their sole concern? What recourse do I possess? I must maintain consistency.” Kaelen had snickered. Observing the others laughing alongside him, I had nodded. Yes, in a peculiar fashion, he was consistent. And that consistency had never once placed me at a disadvantage. I raised my hand and roughly peeled off the smaller cleansing-patch resting upon the bridge of my nose. “This should suffice, should it not?” A dark crimson line bisected the bridge of my unusually aquiline nose. Kaelen looked at me with a faint smile, before his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Do you comprehend why Lord Vespin is such an imbecile?” Kaelen lowered his head slightly, bringing his face close to mine, and whispered in a low voice. “He possesses no foresight. None at all. He fails to grasp that if he persists in such a manner, his life’s trajectory leads directly to ruin.” *Tap, tap.* His thin fingers drummed lightly near his pocket. “He ought to have heeded his Archon. They say if one listens to one’s progenitors, prosperity follows.” And do *you* listen to your parents? I swallowed the words before they could escape my lips. From a certain perspective, it did seem that he did. Very well, whatever. Kaelen’s voice was laced with a quiet, knowing mirth. We soon arrived before a grand, polished door, and instead of opening it, he simply waited. For a brief moment, I attempted to analyze my own motivations. Why had I followed him to this point? Why was I complicit in his theatrical machinations? The most compelling reason I could conjure was a dark desire: to witness Lord Vespin’s downfall with my own eyes. I lifted my head and met Kaelen’s gaze. Placing my hand lightly upon his back, I spoke in a quiet voice. “Let us proceed.” The moment I uttered the words, Kaelen smirked, as if he had been anticipating this precise cue. Then, he ran his fingers through his dark hair, deliberately disheveling it, and hunched his shoulders slightly as he carefully pushed open the grand door. He stepped in first, and I followed him into the quiet ward chamber. Lord Vespin lay upon the healing cot, and beside him sat a face I knew all too well—his father, Archon Vespin. Honestly, I was taken aback. I had not anticipated his actual presence here. “My apologies for our tardiness. I am Kaelen,” he said smoothly, lifting his chin with utterly shameless confidence. Though momentarily disoriented, I swiftly masked my reaction and offered a slight bow. “Greetings.” As soon as the word left my lips, Archon Vespin’s gaze, which had been fixed intently on Kaelen, shifted abruptly to me. Strangely enough, he seemed a little surprised. “...You, are you not Elian?” “I chanced upon him in the Arcane Ward lobby. Are you here for a visit as well, Elian?” Before I could offer a truthful reply, Kaelen interjected, feigning innocence as if it were his natural state. The ease with which he wove his fabrication, as if it were merely another polite salutation, was impressively unsettling. He must have honed such skills countless times. His sheer audacity rendered me speechless, yet I simply offered a small, complicit smile and played along. It was not as if I could contradict him now. “Indeed. Merely visiting.” “Ah... But, well...” His worried expression faltered. It was obvious he wished to speak further but hesitated, making his next intention painfully clear. In the end, Archon Vespin was the one to break the silence. “Thank you for coming, Elian. I am certain Vespin would appreciate it, were he fully conscious. But, Elian, I am sorry, could you perhaps step outside for a moment? There is a sensitive matter I must discuss with this young man.” “Oh, certainly.” I nodded and exited the room without hesitation. For a fleeting second, I considered leaving the door ajar to eavesdrop, but Archon Vespin was observing me with such an intense, weary gaze that I dared not risk it. So, I remained ignorant of the precise nature of the conversation within. With nothing better to occupy my mind, I turned to observe the slowly drifting clouds outside the ward’s expansive window. It was impossible to discern if the time that elapsed was too brief or too protracted for a discussion involving atonement. But eventually, the door opened, and Archon Vespin stepped out. “Elian.” “Oh, Archon. Are you concluded?” I quickly turned and offered a small bow. The muted sound of his polished slippers grew closer, and only then did I lift my head to truly regard the man who, in a way, had birthed my first insidious illness. He had aged significantly. Only a few cycles had passed since our last meeting, yet his face had withered, leaving me with a strangely uneasy sensation. “Forgive me for abruptly dismissing you earlier. Vespin has been acting with such reckless abandon... But you still came all this way. I truly appreciate it. He is under heavy sedation currently, so he will not awaken.” “Oh, no worries at all. It was my duty to come, of course. Though it is a pity I will not converse with him.” “Yes, thank you for your understanding.” Archon Vespin let out a low sigh. It was so weak, so utterly devoid of his usual gravitas, that it seemed almost pitiful. Gone was the furious, roaring authority figure who once reacted to every slightest transgression involving Vespin—now, merely a fragile, weary middle-aged noble. I could not comprehend why he appeared so utterly despondent. It was inconceivable that he was this downtrodden simply because his son had endured a few skirmishes. “I had hoped that associating with individuals such as yourself, Elian, might guide Vespin towards a more honorable path... But recently, he has only invited more trouble, clinging to dubious influences... And now this...” “...” “By any chance, Elian, do you know a young man named Lyraeus?” Lyraeus. My fingertips trembled slightly. I felt so utterly, sickeningly weary of this. “Lyraeus? Yes. He is in my scholastic cohort.” “What manner of youth is he? Do you possess any insights regarding him?” “Uh, well... He is earnest. Acutely intelligent, too. But his family’s standing is arduous. Even so, he always exerted his utmost effort within the Academy....” “And?” “Then, one incident...”

A Concoction of Innocence