Chapter 127: Mid-Term[1]
The word of the courtyard fight spread like wildfire in campus.
The third-years had disappeared off the lower campus before sundown and the Class C students walked with their heads tilted a little higher.
I had won the battle—on paper.
I would have only made a bigger target out of my back, in the real sense.
The following evening, on my desk, there was a folded note.
No name of the sender, a wax seal: the crimson insignia of Magnus Daven.
{Old Observatory Tower. Midnight}
It wasn't a request.
The observatory towered above the academy like a mute relic. Its domed roof had been broken and time-streaked. Moonlight was pouring in through the great window, and silvering the dust.
Magnus was in front of the glass, his hands behind his back. He didn't turn when I entered.
He said finally, with a smooth, almost pleasant voice, Michael Wilson. "I must admit—I'm impressed. You were as accurate with Baron as you could be.
