The heavy, iron-banded door of the Inferior Archives creaked open, pushing back the roar of the freezing rainstorm. Alaric Ordain stood in the threshold, his stoic posture rigid against the sudden gust of wind. He looked at the boy standing in the downpour.
"Please, come in," Alaric said, his voice stiff but lacking its usual guarded distance. He stepped aside, leaving the entryway clear.
Arthur crossed the threshold. Water pooled instantly around his boots, dripping from the soft, tousled locks of his chestnut hair. His Academy uniform was soaked through, but the most glaring detail was his left arm—the sleeve was completely torn away at the shoulder, leaving his pale skin exposed to the freezing draft. He stood perfectly still, his breath coming in shallow, visible hitches.
Alaric closed the door, sealing away the storm. The quiet of the ancient library felt suffocating in its wake. "Let us go to my office," Alaric said softly, his eyes lingering on the boy's torn uniform. "I will boil some water. Would you like some warm tea?"
Arthur shook his head. The motion was sharp, erratic. He looked up, his amber eyes wide and glassy in the dim light of the archive lanterns. "Please," Arthur said, the word cracking in his throat. "Please, just listen to what I have to say."
Without waiting for a response, Arthur walked to the nearest reading table and collapsed into one of the heavy wooden chairs.
Alaric approached slowly and took the seat across from him. He folded his hands on the table, offering a silent nod.
Arthur stared at the wood grain for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was a rapid, breathless current. "Shortly after the second semester began, I met with the Head Instructor, Sivan Ruarc Vigo. He possesses a brilliant mind regarding theoretical magic, so... so I hoped I could obtain an apprenticeship under him. After he tested my knowledge, he allowed me to take part in his Magic Engineering Night Class."
Arthur's right hand drifted up, his fingers digging fiercely into his bare left shoulder. "However, under the guise of advancing my magic capabilities, he kept me after class every night. He made me assist him in his pursuits into Black Magic. Alchemy beyond the sanctioned Speculum Alchemiae texts. He has a secret laboratory... veiled by several dozen barriers and a four-one-zero-six permutation lock, hidden beneath the cellar of the first Headmaster's house."
Alaric's posture stiffened, his jaw tightening, though he remained silent.
"We..." Arthur's breathing hitched, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "We conducted terrible experiments down there. We used living subjects. Seamen, Beastmen... even Plain Humans, to test his elixir. And we... he went out of his way to kill them, by overdose and arcane explosion, if they survived the initial tests."
A heavy silence fell over the table. Arthur bowed his head, and his shoulders began to tremble. A choked, ragged sob broke the quiet, followed by another. Tears spilled over his cheeks, catching the warm lamplight before dropping onto the wooden table.
Alaric sat frozen for a fraction of a second. The deep, familiar ache of guilt flared in his chest—a phantom weight he had carried since the night he failed to save this boy's twin. Moving with awkward, hesitant urgency, Alaric reached across the table and placed a heavy, calloused hand over Arthur's trembling forearm.
"I am here," Alaric said, his voice low and steady. "You are safe now."
Arthur leaned into the touch, taking a long, shuddering breath before looking back up. "But tonight was different," he whispered, his amber eyes unfocused. "He didn't have any test subjects prepared. He looked to just be reviewing his work. Then... he suddenly spoke about creating a homunculus."
Arthur's right hand tightened on his left shoulder, his knuckles turning stark white. His voice dropped to a hollow monotone. "Then he cut off my arm."
Alaric's breath caught. He stared at the pale, intact flesh of the boy's left arm, then at the shredded fabric of the uniform surrounding it.
"And he regrew it," Arthur continued, his words spilling out faster, panicked. "With the power of a priest he kept shackled in a lower cellar. I had been down there once before, but the priest wasn't there that time. He must've been high-ranking, because I can still manage some function of my hand. But after the priest regrew it... Vigo killed him. For the reason of 'maintaining secrecy.' And then he shackled me to the wall, right next to the corpse."
Arthur buried his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving as he wept into his palms.
Alaric withdrew his hand, sitting back in his chair. How horrible, he thought, the sheer weight of the confession settling over him. His mind, trained by years on the Judicial Board, immediately began sorting the chaos into a timeline. If what Cedric says is true, then Instructor Vigo must be arrested immediately. But the thought hit a solid wall. Alaric looked down at his own plain robes. He was no longer the Vice-Commissioner. He had lost his position, stripped of his badge and his authority to enforce the Academy's laws. He was nothing but a librarian now.
He watched the boy weeping across from him. He could not fail this family a second time.
"Cedric," Alaric said. The tone was considerate, but lined with the sharp, unyielding steel of a former enforcer. "Look at me."
Arthur slowly lowered his hands, his face pale and tear-streaked.
"How did you escape?" Alaric asked.
Arthur swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "I managed to dislocate my hand. And... I ran while he was occupied with preparing the homunculus."
"Do you remember exactly how to get back to the laboratory?"
"Yes," Arthur whispered.
Alaric stood up. The wooden chair scraped loudly against the stone floor. He looked down at the drenched, shivering student. "Are you in a state capable of walking?"
Arthur hesitated for a second, his grip still tight on his shoulder, before giving a firm nod. "Yes."
"Good." Alaric turned toward the front doors of the archive, his stoic face setting into a mask of cold resolve. "Then, please lead me to the individual who has been distributing illegal books not documented in these halls. As the Keeper of the Inferior Archives, I will bring them to justice."