The Phantom's Gambit-Chapter 41: Deception

As the Architect faction students retired to their dorm, accompanied by the Mage, they opened the door to enter and were met with a surprise: thunderous applause from their two teachers waiting for them. The Mage joined in, his hands clapping together in appreciation. The students watched on, somewhat perplexed but also basking in the praise.

The applause ceased as abruptly as it began. "We’re applauding you for the significant feat you achieved today," Miss Wilmort explained, dispelling the students’ confusion.

A chorus of "ohs" erupted from the students as understanding dawned on their faces.

"You did well today," Emery said, beaming with pride. "And if people don’t applaud you, applaud yourself. Be proud of yourself. In this Academy, you’ll face numerous challenges, but remember to trust your instincts and stand by those you care about."

He turned to Nadia, offering a word of wisdom. "If you had gone before Erick, the outcome would have been different. The rope wouldn’t have been shortened and there wouldn’t be a reason to cause… what unfolded to happen.

Erick suppressed a smile, knowing that wasn’t the real reason he had wanted to go last. His true motive was to prove himself to his friends in other factions and become the leader of the head student in the Architect faction, earning their respect and obedience. However, he had no issues with Emery, their Mage explanation, and so he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Fortunately, things unfolded in our favor, so let’s leave that for now. Nadia, for achieving the highest rank and making history as the first student from our faction to do so since the Academy’s inception, you will lead this faction. Erick, you will serve as her assistant."

As soon as Emery finished speaking, a golden Stella emblem appeared on Nadia’s and Erick’s shirts. Erick’s initial displeasure at being subordinate to Nadia gave way to cunning. "She’s a girl, after all," he thought to himself. "It would be even more impressive if people think I can influence our faction leader however I want."

Erick’s grin, this time, was unmistakable. The Mage continued to congratulate the other students, instructing them to change and prepare for a tour of a special location in the Academy as a reward for their participation. Those who hadn’t made the rankings were overjoyed, surprised by the Mage’s kindness in making them feel included despite not winning.

"Do your best next time," Emery encouraged the students as they headed upstairs to change.

Octavius, on the other hand, walked with a dull sense of purpose, his mind still reeling from the events that had transpired with Thorne. The realization that Thorne had indeed betrayed him weighed heavily on his thoughts.

_____________

Meanwhile, back at the Main Academy, Thorne made his way through the grand, high-ceilinged corridors, the soft glow of luminescent orbs casting a warm light on the polished marble floors. He turned a corner, and the hallway narrowed, lined with intricately carved wooden panels.

As he approached his father’s new office, he slowed his pace, his footsteps quieting on the plush carpet. Thorne stopped in front of the large, ornate door, took a deep breath, and raised his hand to knock.

Upon hearing his father’s voice bid him enter, Thorne opened the large, ornate door and stepped inside the spacious office.

The room was dimly lit, with only a few candles illuminating the dark, polished wood paneling. Thorne’s eyes adjusted slowly as he bowed respectfully, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"Father, please call off the engagement," he let out once he stood upright again.

Eriol, seated behind a massive, ornate desk, had been engrossed in his writing, his quill scratching across the parchment with swift, precise strokes.

He paused, his hand hovering above the paper, as he looked up at his son. His eyes, piercing and intelligent, narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. "I presume you have a tangible reason for wanting me to do that?"

"It’s Architect Mage, Emery."

"What about him?"

"He’s acting very suspicious. His students got—"

"Yes, yes... I heard about the ranking. And also about the stunt you pulled. Are you here to call off the wedding because he stopped you from doing something... stupid?"

Thorne swallowed hard at his father’s harsh words.

"I’m here because his student managed to surpass the C rankings, which could potentially mean they’re into blood magic, Father."

"Why do you think they would get their hands dirty because of the tournament?"

"Because I believe Emery is jealous of being the lowest ranked, so he’s influencing his student to get an upper hand. I believe his first plan was to make you agree to have me marry his daughter to feel significant, and the second was the tournament. Who knows what else he has under his sleeves.?"

Eriol stared at his son for a second before rising to his feet.

"Tell me, son, is it because you failed to attain such feats, but a common C, that you deem it impossible for anyone, especially someone from the Architect faction, to surpass you?"

Thorne opened his mouth to say something, but his father beat him to it. "Yes, Emery is a lucrative fellow, and he grasps at... certain opportunities."

Eriol paused, his mind wandering to one of his memories before he continued. "And that’s the beauty of being under-ranked. They don’t stop, they don’t pause, they don’t give up. Perhaps all the other factions have gotten too comfortable with being the top three; they’ve forgotten what’s at stake."

Eriol stood in front of Thorne and pressed his index finger against his chest. "You have forgotten what’s at stake. So when dirty outsiders come in, desperate for what you have forsaken... you call it cheating?" Eriol’s laughter echoed through the room.

"Tell me, is it cheating if you were never desperate to win?"

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Thorne opened his mouth to respond, but Eriol’s hand flashed out, slapping him across the face, twice.

"It was a rhetorical question! How on earth are you going to be the Chief Mage or Headmaster, or prepare to fight for what we’re up against, if you don’t even know simple grammar? With all the private education you’ve had, you’re still a dimwit. Octavius would be laughing at you from his grave! At you, for not being able to stop him, even in death. Is that what you want?" Eriol’s voice dripped with venom.

Thorne, unsure if the question was rhetorical this time, stayed quiet, whimpering slightly. But Eriol’s patience had worn thin.

"ANSWER ME!!" he yelled.

"N-no, Father," Thorne stuttered.

Eriol’s face twisted in anger as he watched his son, before turning back to his seat. He grasped his pen and continued writing, his voice cold and detached. "You will marry Marilyn. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Father," Thorne replied and bowed to his father before he exited the room.