Lucien stood frozen in the vestibule, spine locked, jaw slightly ajar, watching the Dread Mage, the Vellichor, walk away beside the high-archivist.
He had just embarrassed himself in front of a living legend, for better or worse.
Every shred of poise Lucien possessed, carefully cultivated through years of study, etiquette instruction, and high-circle conversation, had evaporated like mist in a flame.
Vellichor had been polite, gracious, even, but the moment gnawed at Lucien's pride with slow, deliberate teeth, stinging his sides like needles.
And worse still: Vellichor was headed toward the Principal's wing, moving steadily out of his reach.
Lucien blinked once, twice, and then moved.
Not toward the library. Not back to his scrolls or meditation, those were utterly impossible now. He moved instead toward the eastern corridor.
That path led to the Principal's wing and private office, the kind of place even senior students like Lucien rarely saw, let alone entered, where lanterns shimmered gold and the stone was veined with eldritch sapphire that sparkled violet.
He wasn't going to intrude, of course.
He simply… wished to observe.
To listen. Casually. Professionally. And if he overheard anything, he, of course, wouldn't divulge a word to any other ears.
Who wouldn't want to overhear what Vellichor, the Vellichor, might say to Principal Py Promio? Would he offer to take up a chair in one of the arcane departments? Propose some sweeping reform of magical ethics? Reveal some looming threat and say he needed the help of the best students at Magnus Hall, among whom Lucien counted himself?
And then there was the girl.
And then there was the girl. Strange, in Lucien's opinion, even though she was more smartly dressed than the average commoner. She still had a feral look, following him like a shadow. She hadn't spoken much, and many might be fooled, but her presence wasn't passive.
She had a strangely sharp gaze to her milky eyes, and she scanned the room, the people, like a soldier, not a child.
She was a strange little imp in Lucien's opinion.
And Vellichor allowed her beside him.
Was she his apprentice? A daughter? Was she of any importance?
Lucien reached the corridor's curve just as the high-archivist opened the arched doors and gestured Vellichor inward. The man nodded politely, stepped into the quiet marbled space beyond, and vanished from sight.
Lucien waited, hidden behind a carved pillar.
And then, as soon as the archivist departed, he slipped silently along the outer wall, searching for the right place to stop and listen. Not eavesdropping, he told himself.
Research.
Essential research.
This might be important to the fate of the world.