Ashern City - Reinhart Institute of War, 12th of Brightforge, year 315 UC
Bryan stepped through the doorway and found Gloria standing at the center of the room, arms stretching overhead. Her long brown hair hung loosely around her shoulders, and she wore a simple, fitted gray shirt.
She radiated none of the commanding presence she carried during the day. In fact, she looked... relaxed.
"Good. You made it with time to spare."
She said, adjusting a thin metal bracelet on her wrist.
Bryan glanced at the device. It was unfamiliar.
He'd arrived a minute before the deadline—not something to take pride in, as he usually made a point to be early.
"Do you know why you're here, Blackwood?"
Gloria asked, her gaze finally lifting to meet his.
"Well, you told me to be here, so I came. I didn't think much about why."
His eyes flicked to the side. The room was empty. No signs of setup or preparation—nothing had been altered.
He'd assumed this was going to be a duel. But as he walked here, doubt crept in. Why would Gloria want to duel him? What would she stand to gain?
She had mentioned he was holding back—but that didn't necessarily mean she wanted to fight him. Thinking back on the last few days, Bryan started to wonder if they were even going to fight at all.
"So, you had no thoughts at all about why I asked you here? None?"
Gloria asked, tapping the thin metal bracelet on her wrist.
"Seems unlike you."
Bryan felt something pass through him—subtle, invisible.
"I just activated a privacy field."
She said, gesturing to her bracelet.
"Covers the entire room. No one outside will hear a word we say."
She showed off the device with a faint smile.
"New tech. Handy, right? Makes you want one, doesn't it?"
The fact that she had access to something like that unsettled him. It was exactly the kind of tool the Inquisition would covet. And yet, they hadn't mentioned it, nor had he seen anything like it among their arsenal. That meant one of two things: it was either extremely new—or incredibly restricted.
But what troubled him more was her tone. Why was she using it now? And why so casually?
"Not really."
Bryan replied flatly.
Gloria offered a thin smile. It didn't reach her eyes. Just a gesture, nothing more.
"Can I ask... why am I here?"
He asked.
"You can always ask questions."
Gloria said, rolling her shoulder.
"Doesn't mean you'll always get answers. But since we're already here, I'll skip the games."
She looked him dead in the eye.
"Let's get to it. Who do you work for?"
Bryan felt his blood run cold.
Did she figure something out about him?
Bryan replayed his time at the academy in his mind. He'd made a conscious effort to stay within the realm of "talented"—nothing more. Nothing he'd done should have revealed the full extent of his capabilities.
And yet… here they were.
She had to know something. Otherwise, she wouldn't have asked the question.
Which meant she likely already knew the answer—and just wanted to hear it from him directly.
But what if she wasn't referring to the Inquisition? What if she was thinking along a completely different line?
If that were the case, and he answered carelessly, he'd risk exposing himself—and an organization that went to extreme lengths to keep its members hidden.
It was a dangerous question. One he wasn't prepared to answer.
Normally, he'd deflect. Shift the conversation. Change the topic and let it drift away.
But something about the way she asked it—calm, direct, confident—made it clear Gloria wouldn't tolerate a lie. Not from him.
Which left him with one option.
"You've read my file."
Bryan said.
"You know what it says. So why ask?"
This time, when Gloria smiled, it was genuine. Amused. Like a cat toying with a mouse.
"Ah. I think you're misunderstanding something, Bryan."
She said, deliberately using his first name.
"I'll call you that—it's more personal than Blackwood. I'm sure you understand."
She stepped a little closer.
"See, I don't care who you work for. You're not the first… and you definitely won't be the last."
Her eyes narrowed, just slightly.
"What I'm interested in is something else entirely. I'll be blunt—I'm looking for someone."
On the surface, Bryan remained composed. But inside, he struggled to process the shift. The way she pivoted—from confrontation to casual, then into revelation—it was calculated. A pattern meant to destabilize him.
Especially with that opening. That question.
Most people would have cracked.
By trying to stay calm, trying to play it neutral, Bryan knew he had already revealed more than he intended.
And then there was the sudden switch to his first name—abandoning the cover surname he'd used this entire time. That was bold.
But one question lingered in his mind:
If she was searching for someone…
Why come to him?
"You're probably wondering why I came to you."
Gloria said.
"It's simple, really. You're the person I've been looking for."
Bryan's brow furrowed. A headache started to form—not the dull throb he usually got after dealing with his team or Farrah's constant moralizing. This was different.
It felt like stepping into a pile of shit… only to realize every path forward was just more of the same.
Gloria was going to be a problem.
"I'm sorry."
He said.
"I don't really understand."
"You will."
Gloria replied, her voice too calm for his liking.
"Let me backtrack, give you a better picture of the situation you're in."
She took a step toward the center of the room.
"Tell me—do you know why this academy was really built?"
Bryan answered without hesitation.
"To raise elite soldiers for the military."
That's what they'd been told. But the way she asked the question made it clear there was more beneath the surface.
Gloria gave him a knowing look.
"You really think we care about raising the next generation of soldiers? Come on, Bryan. I think you can do better than that."
He stared at her, silent. Processing.
"So what is this then?"
He asked, voice low.
"Some kind of breeding ground? A recruitment program?"
"Not in the slightest."
She said, almost amused.
"Like I said, I've been looking for someone."
She paused, then corrected herself.
"No—that's not entirely true. My family has been looking for someone. That is the true purpose of this academy."
Bryan's jaw tightened.
"And once you find this person?"
He asked.
"What then?"
"That… has yet to be decided."
Gloria said, taking a few steps forward.
"But let me pose a hypothetical—if you'll indulge me."
She stopped just short of him.
"What would you do if everything you knew turned out to be a lie? An illusion, let's say. You arrive at a place with certain expectations, a fantasy of how things will go. You meet people who feel real—but they're not. Just props, playing their roles to keep the subject occupied. You're tested in ways that seem impossible, designed only to provoke and observe. All the while, you believe it's real. Because that's the point."
She paused.
"What would you do?"
Bryan didn't respond immediately.
Despite being framed as hypothetical, it clearly wasn't. At least not to her.
Was she saying everything—his time here, the people, the matches—had been staged?
Parts of it... maybe. In hindsight, some moments didn't quite add up.
But not enough to believe her completely. Not yet.
And he wasn't about to take her word at face value. If anything, this whole performance could be its own illusion—another test meant to throw him off-balance. That felt more plausible than the entire academy being some elaborate front for one goal.
He kept his composure. Thought it through.
"I'm not sure."
He finally said.
"Seems like a wild hypothetical, if you ask me."
Gloria nodded slightly, as if she expected that answer.
"It was a hypothetical. Don't take it too literally."
She took another step forward.
"Remember earlier, when I asked who you work for? I know that's still circling in your mind, so let me ease the tension."
She gave him a look that cut right through the silence.
"You work for the Inquisition."
Bryan's hand twitched—just slightly.
"Don't look so surprised."
Gloria continued.
"You're not the first agent to have their identity uncovered. And you won't be the last."
Her tone never wavered.
"Now you're wondering how I know. What move to make next. Let me spare you the spiral—because I don't care. Your affiliation isn't a concern to me. We knew from the moment you were accepted."
She smiled faintly.
"And I'm sure your superiors knew that was inevitable. I imagine they've prepared accordingly."
"I pictured you as someone a bit more blunt."
Bryan said, his patience thinning.
"Are you getting to a point, or are we going to keep dancing in circles?"
Gloria raised an eyebrow.
"I thought I was being direct. Was I not?"
Silence stretched between them for a moment. Then, Gloria laughed lightly.
"Guess I've been spending too much time around Octavius. Some of his habits must be rubbing off on me."
She exhaled and rolled her shoulders.
"Alright. I'll answer the question you've been dying to ask. But first, indulge me. Two things: one—how did you end up here, at this academy? And two—who are you, really?"
Bryan took a breath, letting the silence settle again. He actually had to think about it.
How did he end up at Reinhart?
The truth was simple: Zoltan had suggested it.
But there was no way Gloria knew about Zoltan. The little mouse had a knack for staying hidden—and hadn't shown himself in days.
So he had that answer. But the second question...
Who was he?
An Inquisition agent. Son of Veron. The first and only confirmed blood mage. All of it true.
But somehow, it felt like the wrong answer.
His brow furrowed further as he sifted through his thoughts.
"Is the question that deep?"
Gloria asked, amused by the silence.
"Look, I honestly don't know how you ended up here. The Inquisition wouldn't want you here unless they had a reason. Which... now that I think about it, maybe they did."
She waved that thought away as if brushing dust off a table.
"But let's skip ahead. Let's talk about who you are—because once we do, this entire conversation will start to make sense."
She stepped closer.
"You, Bryan, are an orphan. Left at an orphanage as a baby."
He already knew that. He knew the rest too—the events that led to being reunited with his father, only to be passed to the Inquisition.
But then Gloria added something new.
"Did you know that every record about you as a person—your existence, your identity—was erased?"
She said, her tone sharpened now.
"Gone. Wiped clean. As if Bryan the orphan never existed at all."
She paused for effect.
"We never would have known you were real, if not for information from another source."
Gloria pulled out her academic card, tapped it a few times.
A second later, Bryan's own card vibrated in his pocket.
He did not even know the card could vibrate until then.
Pulling it out, there was a file on the card.
"Open it."
She told him, and he was too curious not to do just that.
The file wasn't extensive, just an article about the death of some noble. Another one about the closing of an orphanage, and that was it. Nothing else.
"See, without context, those might look like two unrelated events. But if you understand the full picture, you'll realize they're deeply connected. Let me enlighten you, Bryan."
"An orphan boy—someone considered beneath even commoners—managed to get on the wrong side of a noble. In response, the noble lashed out, and a caretaker at the orphanage ended up dead. But this boy… he was different. Special. Somehow, he killed that noble and his guards. By all rights, he should have been arrested, tried, and executed—but he wasn't. Then, the orphanage where he lived was burned to the ground, everyone inside killed. And yet, what happened to that boy?"
His heart pounded as a fragmented image flickered through his mind. He couldn't make sense of it—only that it was dark.
The sky was dark.
A voice echoed in his head. Not his own, but... familiar.
Whose voice was it? Who was speaking?
He strained to hear, but it was fading—distant now, slipping away.
"That's the thing. The boy just vanished, as if he never existed. But he did exist. You went to the Inquisition, didn't you?"
No. That wasn't right.
He didn't go to the Inquisition.
His father took him there.
The orphanage didn't burn down—and if it did, it had nothing to do with him. He was long gone by then.
Another image flickered in his mind. This time, it felt tangible, like he could almost grasp it—but it slipped away just as quickly.
He tried to hold onto the memory, but all he could see was food—rich, savory, mouthwatering.
Strange.
He never got excited over food.
"What exactly are you implying?" Bryan asked, his voice low.
Gloria was close now—just inches from him.
"See, Bryan, I know you're that child. And deep down… you know it too. So tell me—what happened to you?"
She leaned back, taking a measured step away from him.
"Judging by your face, you're starting to question it yourself. But here's what I want to know: how much of you are you actually looking at? How much of you… is truly you? How can you be sure you're not just a fabrication?"
"What?"
Gloria grinned, and he was starting to hate that look on her face.
"I meant exactly what I said. What if your life—everything up until now—has been like my hypothetical? A lie?"
"That doesn't make any sense. You're not making any sense. I'm done with these games."
Bryan turned, ready to walk away.
But Gloria's hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him.
"What's the rush?"
She said softly.
"We're just getting started."
He looked back at her—and what he saw unsettled him.
This whole time, she had been toying with him, pulling strings like a puppeteer, and he'd danced along like a fool.
Pushing his buttons. Planting doubts. Twisting his reality.
He was sick of it.
So fucking sick of playing her games.
"Emilia Valentine."
She whispered the name into his ear.
Bryan froze.
'What did she just say?'
That name—he knew it.
But he didn't know how.
Emilia… Emilia… who was she?
Faint features hovered in his mind's eye, just out of reach. A face he almost recognized—but not enough to hold on to.
"I'll take care of you."
He saw someone speaking, but their face was blurred. No eyes, no nose—just a mouth moving. And they were speaking to… a child?
Was that him?
A sharp pain slammed into his skull, like someone had taken a mallet to his head again and again.
"Well, look what we have here," Gloria said, holding out a white towel.
Bryan took it, blinking as she pointed to his nose.
"Might want to get that." She gestured casually, as if they hadn't just torn open a wound inside his mind.
"I suppose that's enough fun for one night." She turned to leave, her laughter trailing behind her. "Let's do this again sometime, shall we?"
And then she was gone.
Bryan stood there, dazed, his thoughts spiraling. He had more questions now than ever.
Who the fuck was Gloria Reinhart?
And why did it feel like she knew more about him than he did?
***
Ashern City - Reinhart Institute of War, 12th of Brightforge, year 315 UC
Gloria entered the office and saw Octavius leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. He did that often when he was deep in thought, and it looked like he was sleeping if she were being honest with herself.
She waited for him to open his eyes.
Never speak unless spoken to.
That was a rule in their family, and no one talked to the patriarch unless he spoke to you, out of respect and fear.
Octavius opened his eyes and let out a breath.
"How'd it go?"
He asked, and she already knew what he was referring to.
"He'll question everything. You were right, they definitely tampered with his mind."
Gloria told him.
"Rat bastards are always up to something. The nurse?"
"She's been dealt with. Think they'll get the message when they receive her body in pieces."
Gloria answered.
"Good, good. And the others?"
Gloria shrugged at that.
"She was the only Inquisition agent on campus."
Octavius clicked his tongue.
"I'm referring to those two spies. The kid from the Al-Thar Kingdom, and the one from the Federation. They make any moves yet?"
Gloria thought back on the two students. Neither of them stood out, and they still had no idea why they were here.
To spy was the most obvious reason, but on what or whom was the question they needed to answer.
"No, they are still keeping a low profile. They've embedded themselves quite well with the other students. Do you want me to take any action?"
She asked.
Octavius leaned back in his chair again.
"No, just stir the pot a little, see what shakes, but don't make it obvious you're behind it."
Ocatvius was silent for a moment before he looked at Gloria.
"So, how much further can you push him before he breaks?"
"No telling with how he's been responding so far. I believe something drastic would have to happen to push him over the edge, as for what that is, I cannot be too sure."
Octavius looked down at his desk, which was full of different paperwork.
"And he's not close to anyone here either. He's making this difficult for us."
Gloria saw him smile, but only for a moment.
It was rare to see Octavius not look serious. So for him to crack a smile meant that he was pleased.
The sight was interesting. A grandfather's reaction to their grandson.