The office was smaller than any of the ones he's been given in the past, but Master Dagmire wasn't one to complain. It served well enough, especially since he was only going to be here for a couple more days at max. Even if the meetings continued, he was still needed at the front, and by the reports he was being sent, it sounded as if they were locked in a stalemate. Neither side was progressing in Hecatite, and Froshrinra had the advantage of the mountains.

He frowned as he read through a particular report. Another captain was dead and had been temporarily replaced by a lieutenant. General Kalahann was asking for approval of the decision, and Master Dagmire began writing his response in favor. Lieutenant Urisa had proven herself capable over the last few months. He was ready to sign the approval when a knock came from his door.

"Come in," he said idly, hoping it would be a quick conversation. When he saw a familiar blond enter, however, he pushed his work aside. "Ah, Nagan. What a pleasant surprise, I thought you were one of the politicians."

"Thank the gods I'm not," Nagan smirked. "I can't stand them."

"And yet the girl you're courting is studying law."

Nagan waved his hand. "Details, details...and that's not a death sentence to becoming a politician."

Master Dagmire didn't question it when Nagan turned to face the door, mouthing different incantations that he could only assume were privacy spells. So he has something important he wants to discuss. His thoughts were confirmed when Nagan faced him once again, this time with a more serious expression.

"What makes someone qualified to attend these meetings?" Nagan began, walking over to the side of the desk and choosing to lean his hip against it instead of sitting down.

"For more specific meetings, it's usually just those involved, and that could mean they're either from the region, have close relations to that region—trade, for example—and if they were recently involved with what happened. For example, the last meeting you attended in Carvolier involved General Meixong since they are involved with nearly everything, but they sent you in their place since you know the most about the hypomagicka fields. Does that make sense so far?" He waited for Nagan to confirm with a nod. "Now, for the meetings we have been attending for the last few days, this is dealing with something that involves all of us. It's needed that we make a decision collectively on the next steps we take to win. I'm sure Valrin has been sending reports back to General Meixong."

"Yes, he has. I've written a couple lines in those reports if I caught anything Rin didn't, but that doesn't occur often."

Master Dagmire nodded at that. "He showed promise in incantations when he was in Carvolier, but I think what he's doing now suits him best. He was never a fighter or leader."

Nagan couldn't help but bark out a laugh. "Yeah, and I got these bruises from falling down the stairs. Rin knows how to fight, and very well. He's been handing my ass to me with a stick of all things."

"...Pardon?" Master Dagmire evaluated Nagan quickly, and he indeed did find a couple of developing bruises. "Have you been sparring with him?"

"He's been teaching me how to use a staff. He saw that I was becoming restless, as he put it, so he went down into town and got some spear shafts modified into makeshift staffs. If Rin didn't put a protection incantation meant for sparring over me, I'd have multiple broken bones right now. Doesn't protect me from bruises, though." Nagan shook his head. "But I agree with the leader part. Rin doesn't have any interest in leading anything and quite likes just being a simple assistant."

"Good. I'm glad he's doing well, and even Master Honoria has commented to me that he's pleased to see Valrin happy."

"Wish he would say that to Rin himself, but that's not why I'm here." Nagan glanced back at the door. "Is it imperative you continue inviting...everyone? Even the ones who shouldn't be here?"

Master Dagmire stared back at Nagan's intense one, and he chose his words very carefully. "Indeed, that is so. You are aware of why the War of the Millennium was fought, yes? After that, there was a series of treaties and agreements signed that ensured the mage world would continue working together and that nothing like that war happened ever again. Wars between mages are bloody, and it led to many incantations and potions being banned from use. It will take us generations to regain the population we once had before then. One of those agreements was that every high mage family would be invited to the universal meetings, but it's up to them if they accept or not."

"But there was only one Saremakian family invited?"

"Two, but the other declined. There...aren't many Southern mages of influence, and the Froshrinese tend to keep to themselves."

"I see." Nagan drummed his fingers against the desk. "What if one family is suspected of treason? Would that exclude them from these meetings?"

Master Dagmire frowned at that, realizing where this was going. He picked up his pen to finish the report. "Master Erswell asks many questions, but it takes more than one person to turn the tides like this."

"So you agree that there are rats among us?"

"That is not what I said." Master Dagmire looked warningly at Nagan. "Accusations aren't taken lightly, and it certainly doesn't help that you are now being placed under scrutiny as well. You need to be careful, Nagan."

Nagan's hand gripped into a fist. "You just said accusations aren't taken lightly, so why won't mine be taken seriously?"

"They have been, I assure you. Master Honoria has arranged for Master Erswell's sources to be evaluated, especially when it's undeniable that he was looking around in non-public documents without permission. Grandmaster Elvar seems to be on your side, as well. But these assessments aren't instant, and until something truly damning is found, we cannot exclude Master Erswell."

"People's lives are at stake here! If he's feeding information to the Kinsmen, wouldn't it be best if he were removed for the time being?"

"They could ask for your removal as well, Nagan."

"Then let them!" Nagan scoffed. "Please, it'd actually thank them by now."

Master Dagmire sighed heavily. "It is an incredibly complex situation. If we offend the Erswells, we risk offending other families and losing their support. These people haven't seen the same things we have. They haven't seen war, and they will never understand. The cards we have been dealt are...abysmal. All we can do is work with what we have."

Nagan stared at Master Dagmire in disbelief. Was he joking? Did...none of these people matter to him?

"Maybe Professor Fai was right in accusing you of being too compliant," Nagan breathed, both awestruck and outraged. A small, deceitful chuckle escaped him as he set his gaze on the window. "Do you really think what the Council is doing is right? Volunteering our school as a training ground, sending the prodigy kids to war...Do you care for any of us?"

Master Dagmire gripped the pen tightly in his hand, but he was too old to rise to a teenager's taunts. Instead, he signed his report with a flourish and stood.

"I happen to care very deeply, Nagan. Do not mistake my compliance as negligence." He stared at Nagan for a time, hoping his former apprentice would eventually look back, but he was met with a steely gaze still aimed at the window. "The only thing I will apologize for is for personally getting you involved in all of this. I wanted you to learn how to protect yourself, but I never thought it would go to this extent. And for that, I apologize, and I hope that one day you will forgive me."

With that, Master Dagmire put the letter in an envelope before reaching for a ladle of melted wax. Deep red sealed the letter shut, and he placed the Council of Thirds' seal upon it. Nagan had yet to move, still leading against the desk and looking out the window, deep in thought. His expression was blank and unreadable. Master Dagmire stood once the seal had hardened, and he set the stamp aside.

"As for what the Council does now, there are much greater things at work here that you won't understand, and that is why I suggest you lay low and forget your foolish accusations."

Correspondence in hand, Master Dagmire moved towards the door. If Nagan wished to remain in his office to think, he wouldn't disturb him. But it was apparent Nagan was done thinking when a low, almost crooning voice reached his ears.

"Wouldn't it be easier if he wasn't there at all?"

The words froze Master Dagmire where he stood. He had been at war long enough to know when he shouldn't have his back to something in the room. Every nerve in his body screamed that there was something dangerous behind him. As a visceral reaction, he twisted around, only to be met with something he never thought he would be faced with himself: the eyes of a snake.

Many times he had heard the comparison, even back when the boy—no, the soldier in front of him had just entered Carvolier. There had always been a certain intensity to Nagan's eyes, he didn't deny that, but never in his life did he expect to be faced with the snake the others saw.

This was not the boy he taught all those years ago.

"Nagan," he began, carefully calculating the situation before him. "I need you to think very carefully about what you are saying. Are you suggesting we harm Master Erswell?"

Nagan's hand twitched and his jaw clenched. That was all Master Dagmire needed, and he gritted his teeth.

"Then I suggest you abolish these thoughts from your head."

"You say that as if they haven't been doing the same all this time," Nagan said, his voice much too calm for what he was implying. "It's easy to slip a few of them through with the excuse of war, but what of now? Pointed attacks with fatal results. They have grown tired of targeting officers and are now targeting officials, but for months we have been seeing our people go missing—Dragonmages go missing, only for their dragons to show up against us—"

"I am not blind, Nagan," Master Dagmire's voice rose in volume, "and we will not stoop to such levels. It is immoral, and—"

A sharp crack! resonated around the room as Nagan's hand hit the desk. The stamp fell onto its side.

"War is immoral!" Nagan bellowed, his breathing near ragged. "Everything that's been done, everything that's been lost, don't you dare start acting like you care about morality! How many people do you think they've killed? How many have we killed? With this much blood on our hands, why should morality matter?!"

"Silence!"

The reaction was instant. Nagan felt as if the air had been punched out of his lungs, and his jaw clicked shut. It took a moment for him to start breathing again. Everything felt as if it were tilting around him. Nothing felt real.

A sharp sting from the tips of his fingers brought him back down, and he managed to drag his gaze from the floor—why had he been staring at the floor?—to his hand where his nails dug into the wood of the desk. There was another set of hands trying to pry his grip loose, and his hand dropped near-bonelessly.

"Nagan?"

Nagan's attention snapped to Master Dagmire's now concerned expression.

"Nagan, is everything alright? You—"

Another wave of anger crashed over him, and he harshly shoved Master Dagmire back. This only resulted in him pushing himself back, however, but that didn't matter as long as he was away. His skin crawled; everything felt wrong. Raw and numb all at the same time.

He was wasting time here. Without another word, Nagan marched out of Master Dagmire's office, slamming the door behind him.

He didn't even notice when Master Dagmire reached out to stop him.