Chapter 23: The Unraveling Banquet
The mandatory Conclave opening banquet was held in the Aetherium's Grand Atrium, a cavernous hall usually reserved for ceremonial displays. Dean Eris had spared no expense, transforming the space into a dazzling, if tense, environment. Crystal chandeliers pulsed with over-stabilized light, and delicate, magically chilled ice sculptures of the Aetherium crest stood on every table.
The atmosphere, however, was strained. The Headmasters of the visiting academies—especially the Master of the Northern Spires and the Director of the Southern Collegium—regarded Dean Eris with a mixture of polite disdain and thinly veiled suspicion. The Hydro-Mote incident was fresh in their minds, and the presence of the copper-armored Aetherium guards only heightened the tension.
Lance, Opal, and Kian, in their capacity as the Logistics and Stabilization Trio, were assigned to move silently among the guests, checking for Mote fluctuations—the magical equivalent of table busboys.
Dean Eris, dressed in severe black robes embroidered with stabilizing glyphs, used her opening speech to make a public example of Lance.
"It is imperative," Dean Eris announced, her voice amplified to fill the vast hall, "that we emphasize the absolute importance of Control during the Conclave. To demonstrate our dedication to rigorous stability, I have placed one of our most... promising remedial students, Mr. Silverwoods, in charge of monitoring the hall's core energy flow. His commitment to preventing chaotic leakage is exemplary, proving that even those with inherited deficiencies can be forced into service."
She cast a chilling smile at Lance, making it clear his highly visible role was a form of political humiliation.
"Any disturbance, no matter how minute," she concluded, her gaze sweeping over the visiting students, "will be dealt with swiftly by the Aetherium's administration."
As the dinner began, the pressure immediately mounted. Lance had positioned himself near the largest ice sculpture—a towering, magically sustained piece of art. He could feel the systemic Mote stability of the hall straining against the raw, high-output energy signature emanating from the visiting Key Bearers, particularly the Spires mages.
Suddenly, a minor argument erupted between a Spires student and an Aetherium student over a point of magical theory. The Spires student, fueled by pride and raw elemental power, released an accidental, volatile spike of magic—not a weapon, but a sudden, chaotic burst of heat.
The resulting Mote surge immediately hit the ice sculpture. The magically chilled ice began to melt rapidly, and the supporting stabilization glyphs in the crystal base sputtered and died. The massive, towering sculpture was about to collapse onto the Headmaster's table.
Kian and Opal, standing nearby, froze. Opal's instinct was to blast the base with a counter-spell, which would only accelerate the disaster.
Lance acted instantly. There was no time to explain his plan. He didn't waste a single mote on siphoning or shielding. He reached out with his mind and applied his refined 10% precision—not to the ice, but to the ambient temperature motes in the immediate cubic space surrounding the sculpture.
He imposed a field of pure thermal stasis. He wasn't cooling the air; he was simply imposing the order that the temperature could not change.
The melting process of the ice sculpture instantly ceased. The cascading water froze mid-drip, forming a perfect, crystalline fringe around the melting edges. The entire collapse was paused, held in place by Lance's intense focus.
The hall fell silent. The visitors stared at the suspended disaster. Lance maintained the stasis for three agonizing seconds, just long enough for the tension to break and the argument to dissolve in confused awe. Then, he gently released his focus.
The remaining water slowly dripped to the floor, and the sculpture settled harmlessly into its base, its collapse averted.
Lance turned and met the gaze of Dean Eris, who stood at her table, her face a mask of thwarted rage. The situation had been resolved with absolute stability, preventing a political catastrophe.
As the chatter cautiously resumed, Lance felt a presence beside him.
Elara (Northern Spires) gripped his arm. "That was not dampening, Silverwoods. That was molecular control. You just proved everything our Academy teaches about your lineage."
Ren (Southern Collegium) moved in, his eyes fixed on the melting point. "The calculation required for localized thermal stasis is insane. Only the Aethelgard schematics could account for that level of instantaneous order."
Lyra (Rift Watch) merely nodded, her eyes narrowed in appreciation. "The Fracture was averted. Your control is strong, Silverwoods. Stronger than they want it to be."
Lance, exhausted but energized, had achieved his goal. He had used his power to solve a social problem, demonstrating that the Silverwoods legacy was one of necessary control, not weakness. He had cemented his alliance with the three key figures who would now help him uncover his ancestor's true, brilliant story.