The ranking board changed at noon.
Arthur found out because half the academy was standing around it.
The other half was pretending they weren’t interested.
He stopped at the edge of the crowd.
Mira stood beside him, reading the notices pinned beneath the board.
“Don’t.”
Arthur looked at her.
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You were about to.”
“About to what?”
“Walk closer.”
Arthur glanced toward the board.
“I can read from here.”
“No, you can’t.”
“I can read Julian’s name.”
“That’s because it’s near the top.”
Arthur looked again.
JULIAN HAWKE — RANK 19
Below it were dozens of names.
He searched for his own.
There.
ARTHUR VALE — RANK 312
He stared at the number.
It had not changed.
Mira leaned closer.
“That’s not good.”
“I gathered that.”
“Your survival score is still four.”
Arthur’s eyes moved downward.
Beside his name were several categories.
Combat — 18
Theory — 31
Conduct — 87
Resource Management — 42
Survival — 4
The final column was worse.
Overall: 52
Arthur folded his arms.
“At least the number is honest.”
“You were nearly eaten yesterday.”
“Exactly. Four seems generous.”
Mira didn’t laugh.
“Arthur.”
He looked at her.
“The rankings affect more than pride.”
“I know.”
“Training access.”
“I know.”
“Equipment.”
“I know.”
“Food quality.”
Arthur turned toward her.
“Food?”
“Yes.”
“That’s excessive.”
“Welcome to Gallows Edge.”
Arthur looked back at the board.
A group of students moved aside.
Julian was approaching.
His rank had drawn attention, as usual.
He stopped in front of the board.
Someone congratulated him.
Julian barely acknowledged it.
Then he saw Arthur.
His expression changed.
“You haven’t moved.”
“Neither have you.”
Julian frowned.
“That’s not how rankings work.”
“I meant emotionally.”
Mira covered her mouth.
Julian stared at Arthur.
“You’ve been spending too much time with her.”
“Probably.”
Julian pointed at the board.
“Your combat score is eighteen.”
“I’m aware.”
“You need to train.”
Arthur looked at him.
“Insightful.”
“I mean seriously.”
Julian lowered his voice.
“Your body is weak. Your technique is worse. Your mana control is barely functional. Whatever trick you pulled against that creature, you won’t survive a real duel.”
Arthur considered the statement.
“Probably true.”
Julian blinked.
“You agree?”
“I don’t see a reason not to.”
That seemed to irritate him.
“You can’t negotiate with a sword.”
Arthur looked at the ranking board.
“No. But I can negotiate with the person holding it.”
Julian shook his head.
“That’s exactly your problem.”
Before Arthur could answer, a bell rang.
The crowd immediately began moving.
Mira picked up her bag.
“Combat assessment.”
Arthur sighed.
“Of course.”
The lower arena smelled of dust, sweat and old blood.
Three instructors stood around the circular training ground.
Today’s assessment was simple.
One-on-one combat.
No lethal techniques.
No outside assistance.
The winner would receive points.
The loser would lose some.
Arthur’s name appeared on the board.
His opponent was Leon Varr.
Arthur recognized the broken nose.
Leon walked into the arena with a wooden sword over his shoulder.
“Didn’t expect this.”
Arthur picked up his own weapon.
“Neither did I.”
Leon smiled.
“You remember me?”
“Unfortunately.”
A few students laughed.
Leon didn’t.
“I don’t know what happened to you.”
Arthur raised his sword.
“Neither do I.”
Leon frowned.
“You used to be different.”
“So I’ve heard.”
The instructor raised a hand.
“Begin.”
Leon moved first.
Arthur barely blocked.
The impact travelled through his wrist.
He stepped backward.
Leon attacked again.
Arthur parried.
Third strike.
Fourth.
The fifth forced him sideways.
His foot slipped.
He recovered just before Leon’s blade touched his ribs.
Arthur countered.
Leon blocked.
The exchange continued.
Arthur’s breathing became heavier.
His opponent wasn’t particularly fast.
That was the problem.
Arthur could see the attacks coming.
He simply couldn’t always move quickly enough to avoid them.
His body was becoming the bottleneck.
He hated that.
Leon swung high.
Arthur ducked.
Arthur stepped inside Leon’s guard and struck his shoulder.
A clean hit.
The arena went quiet.
Leon stared at him.
Arthur did too.
He hadn’t expected it to work.
Leon smiled.
“Better.”
Then he swept Arthur’s legs.
Arthur hit the ground.
Pain shot through his back.
The sword flew from his hand.
Leon stopped.
The instructor called the match.
“Winner: Leon Varr.”
Arthur remained on the ground for a moment.
Then sat up.
No system notification appeared.
No hidden reward.
No sudden increase in strength.
Just a bruised back.
Arthur looked at the sword lying several feet away.
For some reason, that was reassuring.
At least the rules were honest.
The instructor handed him a score sheet afterward.
Combat Assessment: 24
Arthur looked at the number.
“That’s an improvement.”
“From eighteen.”
“Still improvement.”
The instructor gave him a flat look.
“Your observation is better than your execution.”
Arthur nodded.
“I’ve noticed.”
“You identify openings correctly.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have the physical ability to exploit most of them.”
Arthur looked at the instructor.
“Can that be trained?”
“Everything can be trained.”
A pause.
“Not everything can be trained quickly.”
Arthur accepted the sheet.
That answer was more useful.
He folded it carefully.
As he turned away, Leon caught up with him.
“Arthur.”
He stopped.
Leon hesitated.
“You didn’t fight like you did before.”
Arthur waited.
“Before?”
“Your old style.”
Leon looked uncomfortable.
“You were faster.”
Arthur frowned.
“Faster?”
“Not better.”
Leon scratched the back of his neck.
“You fought like you didn’t care whether you got hurt.”
Arthur looked down at his hands.
That didn’t sound like him.
Or perhaps it did.
He couldn’t tell anymore.
Leon walked away.
Arthur remained where he was.
The thought stayed with him.
Mira found him outside the arena.
“You lost.”
“Yes.”
“You’re taking it well.”
“I’m considering throwing myself from the tower.”
Mira nodded.
“Reasonable.”
Arthur glanced at her.
She smiled.
“Come on.”
They walked toward the eastern corridor.
“Where are we going?”
“Archive.”
Arthur stopped.
“Why?”
“I found something.”
That got his attention.
They continued.
Mira lowered her voice.
“Remember the eleven names?”
“West Tower.”
“Yes.”
“I remember.”
“I checked the academy disciplinary records.”
“And?”
“One of the instructors on the list wasn’t disciplined.”
Arthur slowed.
“Who?”
“Master Corvin.”
Arthur searched his memory.
“Magical theory?”
“Advanced wards.”
“Why is he on the list?”
“I don’t know.”
Mira pulled a folded sheet from her bag.
“But his name appears in three restricted access logs.”
Arthur took it.
The first was dated four months ago.
The second three months ago.
The third—
Arthur stopped.
Yesterday.
His eyes narrowed.
“That’s impossible.”
Mira nodded.
“I thought so too.”
The record showed:
CORVIN — LOWER ARCHIVE ACCESS — AUTHORIZED
Arthur read the line twice.
“Who authorized it?”
Mira pointed to the bottom.
Arthur looked.
His expression changed.
Authorization: Arthur Vale.
Neither spoke.
The corridor suddenly seemed quieter.
Arthur handed the paper back.
“That’s my handwriting.”
Mira looked at him.
“You recognize it?”
“Yes.”
“Could someone have forged it?”
Arthur examined the signature.
“Possibly.”
“Do you believe that?”
Arthur thought for several seconds.
“No.”
Mira waited.
Arthur finally said:
“I think I authorized it.”
Her expression tightened.
“But you don’t remember.”
“No.”
They stood there in silence.
A group of younger cadets passed them.
Arthur watched until they disappeared around the corner.
Then he looked at Mira.
“We’re not going to the lower archive.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that.”
“Good.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Then why show me this?”
“Because there’s something else.”
She took out another document.
This one was older.
Arthur read the heading.
STUDENT ACCESS REQUEST
His name was at the top.
Below it was a handwritten purpose.
I need to verify whether the lower archive contains records concerning the Peerless Gentleman.
Arthur’s eyes stopped moving.
Mira noticed.
“What?”
He handed it back.
“Nothing.”
“Arthur.”
“I said nothing.”
“You don’t say ‘nothing’ like that.”
He looked at her.
“That’s because this isn’t nothing.”
That evening, Arthur returned to the training courtyard.
Julian was there.
Alone.
Swinging a wooden sword.
Arthur watched him for a while.
Julian noticed.
“What?”
“I need something.”
Julian lowered the sword.
“Money?”
“No.”
“A favor?”
“Possibly.”
Julian laughed.
“You’re learning.”
Arthur stepped into the training circle.
“I need combat training.”
Julian stared.
“You?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You lost today.”
“I noticed.”
“Badly.”
“Your encouragement is touching.”
Julian rested the sword against his shoulder.
“Why me?”
“You’re ranked nineteenth.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“You’re better than me.”
Julian looked almost offended.
“You said that surprisingly easily.”
“I prefer accurate statements.”
A grin appeared on Julian’s face.
“You want me to train you?”
“Yes.”
“For free?”
“No.”
Julian’s grin widened.
“Now we’re talking.”
Arthur reached into his pocket.
One mana crystal.
Julian looked at it.
“That’s not enough.”
“I have limited resources.”
“I know.”
“Then name your price.”
Julian thought.
“I want a rematch.”
Arthur frowned.
“Against me?”
“Not now.”
Julian pointed the wooden sword at him.
“When you’re stronger.”
Arthur considered it.
“What happens if I refuse?”
“I don’t train you.”
“Fair.”
Arthur extended his hand.
“Deal.”
Julian shook it.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“What time?”
“Five.”
Arthur’s expression fell.
“That’s barbaric.”
“You wanted training.”
“I did not specify cruelty.”
Julian laughed.
For once, Arthur laughed too.
Only briefly.
Then Julian’s expression became serious.
“One thing.”
Arthur waited.
“If you’re training with me, I won’t treat you like a noble.”
Arthur looked at the wooden sword.
“Good.”
“You’ll get hit.”
“I expected that.”
“You’ll lose.”
“I already do.”
“You’ll keep losing until you stop making the same mistakes.”
Arthur met his eyes.
“That’s acceptable.”
Julian nodded.
“Then we’re starting tomorrow.”
Later that night, Arthur sat alone at his desk.
The academy was quiet.
Mira had gone to the library.
Julian was probably asleep.
Arthur opened his notebook.
He added another line.
9.
I authorized access to the lower archive before my memories were sealed.
He stared at it.
Then wrote another.
10.
I was looking for records concerning the Peerless Gentleman.
His pen stopped.
There was no point pretending otherwise.
The old Arthur had been searching for answers.
Whatever happened afterward, he had not been wandering blindly.
He had been investigating.
Arthur closed the notebook.
For the first time, the question wasn’t:
What did Arthur Vale do?
It was:
What did Arthur Vale discover?
A faint sound came from the corridor.
Footsteps.
Arthur looked toward the door.
They stopped outside.
A shadow passed beneath it.
Then continued.
Arthur waited.
Nothing happened.
He returned his attention to the desk.
The room was empty.
But beneath the door, something had been pushed inside.
A small piece of paper.
Arthur picked it up.
Three words had been written across it.
YOU WERE RIGHT.
He turned the paper over.
Nothing.
Arthur looked toward the door again.
This time, he smiled.
Not because he understood.
Because for once, someone had given him an answer.
And he had absolutely no idea what question they were answering.