104 - Introspection

When Arielle got called to the dean’s office the next morning, she assumed that Valeria had told him something about their breakthrough.
Either that, or he was ready to teach her how to read people’s intentions.
But first, he wanted her to tell him more stories about her childhood. Arielle was cautious, wondering why he was so interested.
Nevertheless, she carefully went along with it.
She told him of the first time she went hunting with her brother, of getting into fights with her sister. She told him of her grandmother and her obsession with bogmint, of her mother’s aversion to killing things. She told him of her father going off to fight mossgiants for the past seven years.
With each tale she told, he only smiled and remained observant, asking a few follow-up questions while watching her in a way that felt like he could see inside her head.
At some point during the session, she asked him, “So? When do we start working on the spell? I’ve given you all the relevant information about my childhood.”
He folded his hands and told her, “How about you first tell me what your intent is with this spell? That way I can ensure that we’re on the same page and manage our expectations.”
Arielle raised an eyebrow. She’d thought that it would be obvious what her intentions were.
“I want to know when people are lying to me,” she said. “I want to know why, and I want to be able to separate friend from foe, good people from bad people.”
He nodded slowly. “That is a lofty goal, but ultimately it’s dangerous and pretty futile to think in terms of good and bad.” He shrugged. “Sure, there will obviously be people who are dedicated to being exemplary representations of humanity and those who are incarnates of evil. But typically, the world doesn’t work in black and white. You must become comfortable operating in the grey. That’s what the spell we will create is about.” He cocked his head. “However the spell works depends on how you work.“
“What do you mean?”
“I think you’re searching for total certainty and total honesty, and that will be difficult to achieve without some level of mindreading. No one ever really knows if another person is being honest with them. It is why truthseekers are so prized in our society.” He leaned forward. “Even ancient mages like myself struggle with the very same things you struggle with.”
“I doubt it.” The dean seemed very proficient at uncovering people’s secrets.
“It’s true. I receive insight into people’s untruths, but it has taken years and years for me to get to this point. And even now, there are a few people who can get one over my head.” His smile turned sad. “I had a brother once. Romalus. He was… a very troubled man.”
“In what way?”
“He was obsessed with power, gaining more of it. He was an Archmage, but it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to be the best. He wanted to be a god. And he wanted me to help him.” He swallowed and stared out the window. “At some point, he visited me while I was working at the Grand Luxarium. He said he’d missed me and simply wanted to talk. A part of me knew he was lying. He wasn’t truly there to see me. I knew who he was ultimately. But a part of me still thought that maybe…maybe he had changed.”
He sighed deeply, heavily, and Arielle asked, “What happened?”
“I gave him access, and I paid dearly for it. He betrayed me, yet again, and I let it happen. You see, sometimes when you love someone enough, you will believe them even when they’ve done nothing to warrant it. Sometimes, you will even lie to yourself on their behalf. In this case, I wasn’t tricked because I didn’t know better. I knew my brother like the back of my hand. But I loved him, and my vulnerability made me believe in him despite my better sense.” He stared back at her, the sun beaming from behind him. “It doesn’t make me stupid. It means I have a blind spot, as we all do. On the flip side of that, you will never be a hundred percent certain of anyone, and even people you know can surprise you, like I hoped Romalus would. So chasing total certainty is not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
“More important than knowing whether people are being a hundred percent honest with you is understanding what would cause them to be dishonest in the first place.”
Ari wrote that down in her notebook. “Lyra says that I have to look at what people want from me.”
“That is true. Knowing what people want is part of it. But it’s more than that. It’s knowing who people are at their core and how that will shape their behavior. Sometimes there’s a layer of irony to deceit.”
“Like what?”
“For example, someone insisting that you trust them,” he said. “That can suggest that they are being deceptive. Some people give long, detailed answers when they’re attempting to lie.”
Ari was offended by that last statement. “I give long, detailed answers sometimes.”
“I know, which is why it all ties back into step one. Understanding people at their core. We must first establish a baseline to know when they deviate from it. Then we can figure out the why.”
Ari knew as much, but she sighed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do with my spell. It’s hard.”
“Harder than everything you’ve achieved so far?” he asked. “Harder than defeating trolls or creating impossible spells?”
“Yes. People are more complicated and, worst of all, inconsistent.”
“Hmm.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “There’s one thing I always liked about you since the day we met, Arielle, and it’s that you have a total encompassing curiosity towards things you do not initially understand. You seek knowledge ravenously, and you don’t give up easily. I believe that’s a part of why you are such a genius. However, you do not necessarily extend that same curiosity towards people.”
“That’s because people hate when I ask them questions about themselves.” She had learned that young. “It annoys them, and I don’t want to annoy anyone.”
“You don’t have to ask questions. You can just listen. Observe.”
“That annoys them too. They think it’s weird.”
He chuckled. “You are certainly unusual, Arielle, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. You simply see things differently than others do, which is why the spell we create together must be tailored to you.”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean it’s not a spell that is going to tell you, ‘This person is definitely lying’ per se. As I said, we can’t do that. What the spell will do is simply remind you of the cues that you should look for and the important things you should recall about this individual. It will help you put together things you already know to form the most likely conclusion.”
She was disappointed. That was less useful and less certain than she hoped.
“I understand it’s not what you want,” he said. “But the spell will grow with you. And the more your understanding of others expands, the better it will become.”
“With this spell, will I ever get as savvy as you are?” If yes, then she could accept it. Even though the dean couldn’t read others’ minds, it often felt like he could.
“Perhaps,” he said. “If you work at it. However, I’m just asking you to put at least as much effort into studying people as you do in studying essences.”
Arielle thought about it, and she sighed. “Alright.”
“Good. That will be your homework for today. Pick two people apart from Lyra and Maus, and study them. In our next session, you will tell me all the things you noticed.”
She nodded again.
“Another important thing, Arielle, is that you must think before you speak, especially when talking to those you don’t know,” he said. “Otherwise you give off information that you never meant to.”
“What kind of information?”
“The kind that tells me Elric is not in any way related to you.”
She jerked, eyes wide. Her breathing stopped, and her brain scrambled to think up a lie.
Ultimately, she knew it was useless. He’d already caught her.
But how?
She hadn’t said anything to suggest that Elric was not her real cousin. She had not mentioned Elric at all. She had stuck to all her childhood stories of before Elric ever purported to be in the picture and had carefully stayed away from anything that would defy her and Elric’s cover story.

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How did he know?
“I know because I’m observant,” the dean said, once again, answering the question she had never voiced. “When we were in the Helleron forest, my friend Yom asked you if you were a hybrid. To answer, you replied you were Mossborne.”
“Yes,” she stammered. “Because I was raised by Mossbornes and only recently found out I was adopted, so it’s just a force of habit.” She didn’t look at the ceiling, but she tripped over her own words too much for it to register as truthful.
“I thought as much at first. But hearing more stories of your family, hearing the way you speak about them and the similarities you share with them…even just the tone of your voice when you identify as a Mossborne. Like there is not a single doubt in your mind, a single note of curiosity about your so-called birth parents.”
“I…” She cleared her throat, dropping her gaze to her hands, clutching her robe. “I mean…”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I doubt anyone else in that cave picked up on it. As I said, I’m very observant. This discovery will also not leave this room, and as a matter of fact, I already redirected Llywyd’s inquiry into your true parentage, and ensured that she would not find what she’s looking for.”
“How?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. However, I’m telling you this to demonstrate the danger of poor communication. If I were malicious, I would already have used that information to trap you. Do you understand?”
She swallowed and stared back at her hands, folding one finger over the other to form a crooked stepladder. She didn’t even know how she had given so much away.
The dean was right. She felt so stupid.
“You are not stupid, Arielle,” Dean Octavius said. “You are uneducated in human treachery. Don’t worry. We will work on it. “
She sighed and nodded.
They discussed more about signs of deceit, and Arielle wrote down some of the things she should look for when studying others.
At the end of the session, when she expected him to teach her a spell, he told her they would build up to it. Instead, he said, “One more thing, would you like to have your surprise trial?”
Arielle blinked. She had not been expecting this. “You mean now?”
“If you want.”
“But I thought…” She glanced around. There were no other professors in the room. No invigilators. No scrolls and quills being given to her. No one for her to battle, no arena for her to cast spells. More importantly, she hadn’t prepared mentally for having any tests.
But he was staring at her measuredly and non-threateningly.
“What is the test?” she asked warily.
“Everyone’s test is a little different,” he said. “Not necessarily because we try to hide it; it’s just that everyone’s needs are different, so their tests are different. And after the test, we provide an honest evaluation. But as to what the test will be, you will only know once you accept.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll need to cast a spell on you to know what your test is. You will need to consent to that.”
“So you don’t warn people before the test?”
“No, we do. We give our students a rundown like I am doing to you now and give each of them the option to either go through with it or opt out. Although I let them know that going through with it can be in their best interest.”
She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“When students come to this academy, they do so with a bright-eyed optimism, believing everything will turn out the way they expect it to. Sometimes it’s images put in their head by their parents or familial pressure. Other times, they’re simply too focused on the competition rather than the end goal. In the past, the academy would take advantage of that, working them to the bone and playing them against each other, knowing there was only a given number who would ever reach the heights that they imagined for themselves.”
“There’s no limit on the number of adept mages there can be.”
“For now. The problem is not everyone enjoys being an adept. Some find it not too far from the life they would have lived without the burden of magic. Others find it too restrictive. For our ambitious students, especially those who dream of being masters and archmages, this is a much-needed reality check. The results of the tests evaluate how much the student’s expectations align with their reality. Some students then realize that it is so far removed from the life they want that they no longer want to continue the program.”
“What if you lose talented students as a result?”
“It’s the price that must be paid. We do this early because this will likely be the last chance the student has to live a comfortable life after suppressing their cores. Beyond this point, suppression will be very uncomfortable.”
Arielle gripped her hands. She hated the idea of core suppression as a whole, but she didn’t like the dean’s idea either.
“Isn’t that unjust?” Arielle said, stiffening again because this felt like another mode of manipulation. “You’re showing them things to get them to quit on their own, when they could very well prove your predictions wrong.”
He smiled. “Of course. I let them know that I have been proven wrong before. I also let them know that the test is optional and some students chose not to take it at all.”
“That’s not what the students say.”
It hadn’t sounded optional when Lyra had spoken of it. She had made it sound like it would be the most unavoidable, horrific thing in the world. That everyone failed except Gio Li and Selena, and they only passed because they were so powerful.
“Students have a way of catastrophizing and making legends out of molehills,” the dean said. “It’s contributed to by the fact that most of the people who take the test don’t like to talk about it.”
“Why?
“Because most people don’t like to talk about their failures. It can reveal the ugliest part of you. The test is brutally honest in its evaluation of both the good and the bad. Usually, I would use an illusion to enhance the realism. But we both know that illusion magic doesn’t work on you, so it’s going to be a little more complicated. If you want to go through with it, that is.”
Arielle bit her lip. She didn’t know. The last test the dean had set out for her hadn’t ended well. She wasn’t ready for another one.
“Arielle, there’s no doubt that you are going to be someone great,” Dean Octavius said. “However, I would like to discuss what that truly means to you, especially in the context of our wider world and our history. I think that will also give you clarity, or perhaps it will lead you to ask more pertinent questions. Would you be open to it?”
Arielle debated whether to say yes or not. As she stared at him, a denial was still on the tip of her tongue, but perhaps she needed more time to consider it. Or she needed to ask Elric what he would do in such a situation.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
Rather than be offended, he grinned. “That was the answer I was hoping for.”
She nodded. Even after spending the afternoon together, she wasn’t sure she trusted the dean still, but… perhaps that was the point. She didn’t know him. She hadn’t had time to observe him outside of these meetings they had, and didn’t know what he was like with other students. She didn’t ask Lyra if she had meetings with the dean, too, or Maus for that matter.
As a matter of fact…
Ari was hit with the stunning thought that she didn’t know what her friends’ interactions with professors and each other were like outside of her.
Even after all this time.
Though she enjoyed their friendship, lately her interactions with Lyra and Maus were in small pockets of time, and she spent more than that studying other things. She didn’t know much about what they did outside of that. She didn’t truly know what they were like with their other friends, when she wasn’t there. Even after her research, she was missing key details.
She had even at one point studied their microexpressions, rather than just studying them.
“Thank you,” she said as she got up. “This has been enlightening.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said, and she walked away.
Arielle thought about the dean’s words for the rest of the day, and the one after. At least it gave her something else to focus on that wasn’t the thoughts attempting to claw to the forefront of her brain.
Valeria had told her they would work on more abyssal spells during the weekend, which worked just fine for her because she was also busy finishing up her presentation for Woden’s class.
Riorke still wasn’t back, so they would have to do it without him. During their group meeting in the library, the boys talked about his absence, and Lacey was the one to explain it to Ari when she asked.
“There might be a battle,” he said. “Between Asteria, the Duchy Riorke’s father leads, and Lethamon. That’s why Riorke is gone.”
“Is he going to fight?”
“He wants to. I’m not sure they’re going to let him.”
“What’s the battle for?”
“Who knows this time? It’s always something,” Lacey sighed. “Those two kingdoms have been at each other’s throats since the beginning of time. If it isn’t a trade dispute, it’s an argument about mines, or the dissolution of an arranged marriage. Sometimes I think they just like to fight for its own sake.”
“Can’t the council mediate it?”
“The council doesn’t like to involve itself in mundane politics. It’s left to the lower courts, which is a mess right now.”
“So is Riorke not coming back?” Godfrey asked. “Ever?”
“He doesn’t need to,” Cedric said. “He could always learn whatever he’s learning here at home. It’s not like he’s here for the magic anyway. There are better trainers to teach him combat.”
“Lucky,” Cuthbert murmured.
Arielle paused in the midst of writing something. She wondered if what Cedric said was true. It seemed so.
Riorke didn’t like spell casting or core balancing. He didn’t seem to enjoy creatures and clans or leyline studies or politics either. He enjoyed combat, but he was purely physical in most of his fights.
Then why was he here if he didn’t want to learn magic?.
And if they were friends, how had she never asked him before?
Because she had only thought about him and his problems in relation to her. The same way she thought about Lyra and Maus.
Also, the one time she had tried to pry into his private life, with his brother, it had ended up badly.
But did that mean she shouldn’t try again? Didn’t her lack of questions suggest a lack of care?
“Am I selfish?” Ari asked Lyra later at dinner.
Lyra seemed surprised by the question, tracing her fork on the plate as she answered, “Not really. Maybe sometimes. I think it’s more self-centeredness than selfishness. Like when you’re studying, you don’t really think about anything or anyone else until you’re done.”
She bit her lip, feeling some guilt. “I see. How can I stop being self-centered?”
“I mean, I don’t know that it’s necessarily bad all the time. You’re super focused on your goals, and that’s great. Not to mention, you help people whenever you can.”
Yes, that was true. She helped people.
Because she wanted them to like her.
Because she saw helping them as fun projects.
Because she often had nothing better to do.
Was that not still self-centered?
Arielle sighed.
She was called to the Dean’s office a day later and was ready to tell him who she had picked to study.
But when she got there, he wasn’t alone.
Arielle beamed at the sunny-haired man, facing the dean in front of the window, looking much healthier–and angrier–than when she had last seen him.
“Elric!”