257 Suspicion

Cerlius wasn't fairing much better as he relayed: "I'm telling you that it is just a ploy to weaken the Kingdom's army." He stomped on the ground, causing the same thud that Trenton had heard earlier. "That's what our blackpowder will do, only that." He stomped again, this time with more force and a louder thud. "We could do better and they can do better. Consider the other possible ratios before you arbitrarily announce our finding as a perfected ratio of the blackpowder."

Lance stormed up to the youth, jabbed a sheet of paper forward, and pointed to the single alchemic equation in bold at the bottom. "This ratio works." He stomped, thud. "That's all we were asked to accomplish, which we did. If you are so afraid that the Resistance would conceive of and execute some sort of convoluted scheme to deliberately feed us and their own men diluted black powder then I will relay that in my report. Until then just…" He stomped, thud. "Will have to do."

"You mean to tell me that you're not at all curious about this?" Cerlius pointed at the three distinct piles of powder. "The Academy was granted additional funding so of course we are free to experiment-" He paused and they both yawned.

The opening allowed Trenton to finally get a word in: "What the hell?" He stepped into the Dimmer. The squabbling pair both turned to him and winced at his bright torch. The pair's only source of illumination had been a dim jar of blue fireflies. Trenton jutted the torch forward, savoring the small joy it brought him when they winced again.

"You two have made an absolute mess. The point of the Dimmer, the reason it was made…" He trailed off, having realized how much his own thoughts had distracted him. He blinked twice, processing their conversation. The formula, that project which no other instructor had even bothered with, was written down. "You discovered the composition of the blackpowder?"

Trenton took another step, accidentally crinkling a paper. The two grimaced, as if their child had been stepped on. Trenton apologized, knelt down, and skimmed it. His eyes went wide. After finishing, he picked up another paper and read through it, this time slower. Lance's chicken scratch and Cerlius's perfect handwriting contrasted in legibility just as much as their individual methods and theories.

"We discovered it hours ago," Lance said, still blinking at the torchlight. "Cerlius is a prodigy. I believe his talent should be furthered under my tutelage. I declare him as my apprentice."

"Well," Lance looked to Cerlius. "I may have been the main source of progress but a significant amount of the work was Cerlius's contributions. I think he should be added in at least as a contributing source or a co-author at most."

Trenton narrowed his eyes. "Cerlius can't leave to present this share of the findings. All students must remain in the bounds of the academy's walls. I'll only inform the instructors of his good work."

"I know," Lance said. "But credit is due where credit is due. He may not be able to leave but I can easily explain his share of the work in my report, still listing him as a contributing source."

"Actually," Cerlius said. "I don't mind if I'm not included. The inclusion was a nice gesture but I know that it is not…professional, going by Lance's hesitation when he insisted."

Trenton didn't know why, but an ominous feeling welled up in his gut. No, feelings like this don't just appear all of a sudden. As the head instructor of first years, it was his job to monitor the first years, examine them and report to the head of the academy. That dangerous feeling was always there. This was just the first time that he noticed it. "Are you sure that you don't want credit?" he asked.

Cerlius shook his head: "I'd rather draw attention to the different possible ratios of blackpowder ingredients." He shoved several papers into Trenton's hands. "In one of our failed experiments the product was brighter, which led me down the train of thought that blackpowder was imperfect. More trials could result in even more," he stomped, hard, resulting in the loudest thud so far. "But we need resources for that. I wish to talk to the court if that is possible. I'm sure they'll listen since the Demon Army is on the rise."

"How do you know of these things?" Trenton asked, beginning to understand where that feeling came from. "Lance, was it necessary to inform this student about the outside world?"

Lance shrugged. "Of course. According to the rules, I can inform him if I deem it necessary for my research. I already warned him that he can't tell anyone else. Why do you ask? Do you think I did something inappropriate?"

"I think you're sleep deprived." Trenton retorted. "You should get some sleep before you make a mistake or do something that you regret." He pat his fellow instructor on the back. "But cleaning up comes first."

"Understood," Lance went about the room, picking up each and every paper.

Cerlius went to help but Trenton shook his head. "Tell me boy, what do you think of your actions yesterday? Why were they inappropriate?"

Trenton's torch flickered again, casting Cerlius's face in shadows. "I believe that thanking a Demi in Elvish was against the rules, and the rules of the academy are just, therefore disobeying them is not just. I deserved to be punished."

"Do you believe that this was punishment?" Trenton asked.

"My punishment was to not be credited for my work." Cerlius said without a hint of emotion, nor hesitation. "I also think that this Dimmer was uncomfortable enough to be called punishment." He held out his hand. Mana poured out of it and condensed into a circle, which flickered and lashed out widely. "At the same time, I was fascinated. How does this place work?"

"It disorganizes mana, so magic circles can't be used." Trenton begrudgingly said. "You can use mana, but you can't control it. It's as if the gift that the Goddess gave us is twisted in this area, broken by something but not quite dead. That's why it's called the Dimmer."

Cerlius rubbed his chin and pulled his mana back. "Do you often find fault with instructor Lance's decisions?"

Trenton frowned: "I wonder if this was instructor Lance's decision, or if it was someone else's." He turned and walked out of the Dimmer, leaving the door open for his friend and his friend's supposed disciple to follow. Trenton met the stairs but the duo had remained, still picking up the disorganized mess they had put themselves in. 'How long has it been since I've had this feeling?' he thought. 'I think I last had this feeling…when I met Sozo for the first time. I wonder if Lance will fall for the same trick twice.'