Nomen slowly raised his hand. His gaze rested on Riven, then on Serena. "He's right."
A moment of complete silence.
Serena looked up. "You agree with him?"
"Ines was with me today. She made it very clear." Nomen took a sip from his cup before quietly putting it down. "Our job is not to be politically considerate. Not now. Not during the tournament. If we don't act hard and fast, this academy will burn in two weeks."
"We're understaffed," Serena said. "And not all incidents are the same. Cracking down sounds good until you're dealing with the wrong students."
"Then we recruit," Nomen replied calmly. "Not ideal. Maybe even dangerous. But we need eyes. Hands. Presence. And consistency."
Riven stepped closer. "You'll give us permission?"
Nomen nodded. "With caution. But yes, from today on, we have the leeway. Anyone who breaks the order will feel it. Not in weeks. Not after umpteen protocols. Immediately."
Corin bowed his head slightly. There was nothing of anger in Nomen's voice, nothing of haste. Just that cold, calm determination. The way someone speaks who has thought about something for a long time and has come to a conclusion that he himself is not enthusiastic about.
"Will Cearen be informed?" Serena asked.
"Of course," said Leora , who had been holding back until now. Her voice cut through the silence. "But not until he's dealt with the reverberations."
Nomen put the empty cup down, the soft clink echoing briefly in the room. "More presence," he repeated. "That means: we show ourselves. Not just in patrols or in files. But in the battles themselves."
Corin straightened up, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Your matches will be prioritized next week," Nomen said. "Not all at once, but selectively. Visibly. If the students sense that the committee isn't just writing rules, but fighting through them, that will make more of an impression than any punitive measure."
Leora nodded slowly. "A fight in front of an audience can bring more order than ten conversations in the back room."
"Cearen is set anyway," Serena interjected, her voice a little softer, but not without agreement. "He's ranked number one, his influence is a fact."
"Riven will soon follow," Nomen added. "And Corin..." His gaze drifted to him, scrutinizing, calm. "Your time will come as well."
Corin returned the look calmly. "You want me to make another impression?"
A subtle smile twitched across Nomen's lips. "You are part of an order. So yes, a good impression can also be staged. As long as it seems genuine."
Riven, who had seemed charged a moment ago, seemed to calm down. He seemed to like the idea of finally taking a more active approach on and off the field. He crossed his arms and nodded.
"Then let us remind them why we are feared."
Nomen took a few steps towards the large window that looked out into the dark, rain-covered courtyard. The wind played with the Academy's banners.
"The academy doesn't just stand for knowledge or strength. It stands for stability. And in times when every doubt grows, we need clarity."
Serena took a deep breath. "I'll reorganize the overview of the fights. Give me next week."
Nomen nodded, but remained standing at the window, his gaze fixed on the distance. "Then let them see what we stand for. And what happens when you forget."
-------------------------------------------------------
The rain had stopped, but the cobblestones still gleamed under the dim lights of the academy lanterns. The wind carried the distant creak of an old window frame through the corridors.
Corin pulled his coat tighter as he turned into the Herrendorms' corridor beside Cearen. Their footsteps echoed muffled on the stone floor, the chain clink of Corin's glasses mingling with the night's silence.
"You know this is getting ridiculous, don't you?" began Cearen with a sideways glance. "Night shifts? In your third week?"
"Welcome to the new normal," Corin replied. "Nomen things presence makes an impact."
Cearen grumbled in agreement. "Then we should at least try not to fall asleep."
They walked on, past closed doors, a few softly murmuring voices behind windows. Everything was quiet. For the time being.
"Tell me," Corin suddenly said, "are you actually going all out at the tournament?"
Cearen paused for a moment, then continued walking. "I only go as far as is necessary. Why? Do you want to know or someone else?"
Corin shrugged his shoulders. "Just me. But i guess not holding back would be the right choice right now."
"Then no. Not yet."
A gust of wind made a door creak. They both took a quick look into the side corridor, but nothing was to be seen.
"You know, I actually thought I'd come here, stay out of it, fight my thing, that's it," Cearen finally said. "But now... too many looks, too many expectations."
"You're rank one, that's what they come with."
Cearen scowled at him. "And you're the one who staged a battle in your first week. I at least took my time. I don't know which is worse."
Corin's mouth twisted slightly. "Serena thinks I should somehow stop you from dancing with someone at the ball."
Cearen laughed softly, but sincerely. "Did she mean that?"
"She actually helped me. So yes."
"Brave. Does she know how many letters I've received in the last week?"
"I hope you haven't read them all."
"Of course I haven't. I gave them to Nomen. He's keeping a book now."
A laugh escaped Corin. "So, was there anything wrong?"
Cearen shook her head. "Nothing I was looking for."
A moment of silence.
"But..." Corin began, "if i do dance..."
"Then because I want to. Not because someone wants me to."
Corin nodded.
They came to a small intersection where the lantern flickered. A shadow moved briefly, a student who hastily returned to the door when he recognized the two of them.
"There. Another one of those." Cearen's voice had become calm but sharper.
"I saw it, too. Third one today."
"And there are more."
Corin stepped closer to the door, checked the surroundings, but everything remained silent. Then he turned back to Cearen.
"We have to keep at it. Even if it means we don't dance."
Cearen smiled wryly. "Luckily I don't have two left feet."
They walked on, side by side, through the flickering silence, two shadows in the midst of growing unrest.