I'm Definitely In Trouble

“Thank you for choosing to participate in Celeste’s traveler survey!”

The three weary companions were escorted into separate offices, where each was greeted by a clerk carrying the same survey. Apparently, every traveler entering Celeste was required to complete one after the Academy convinced the city council that any piece of information, no matter how insignificant, might one day prove valuable.

“Occupation?”

“Traveler.”

“Wandering… mage.”

“Woodcutter.”

“Highest completed education?”

Murry sighed, “why does that matter?”

Scratch

“Private tutoring.”

Scratch.

Flint hesitated.

“…Village?”

Scratch.

“So what is the purpose of your visit?”

Murry scratched his stubble.

“…Sightseeing.”

Scratch.

Isla folded her hands politely.

“I’m simply passing through.”

Scratch.

Flint hesitated before speaking.

“I’m looking for the Academy.”

The quill stopped abruptly.

𓌏

It had begun a week earlier.

The morning after leaving the monastery, Murry had unfolded his worn map atop a flat stone.

“If there’s one place worth heading to next…”

His finger tapped a city near the heart of the kingdom.

“…It’s Celeste.”

Flint leaned closer while Isla blinked next to him.

“The city of the Grand Academy?”

“Exactly. If anyone’s spent the last hundred and twenty years digging through records about Astra, the Crimson Gate and every cursed relic under the sun,” Murry folded the map again, “it’s them.”

Isla nodded thoughtfully.

“Is it true that they’ve preserved most of the kingdom’s historical records?”

“From what I’ve heard? I’d say all.”

“They must be really proud of their knowledge.” Flint added.

Murry looked toward the Bloodblade.

“If anyone can tell us what that thing is and why it exists, they must be in Celeste.”

Murry cleared his throat, “But!” His finger snapped dramatically at Flint.

“We don’t go around telling everyone why we’re there.”

Flint blinked.

“…We don’t? I thought we were looking for answers.”

“The sword can attract attention. Sometimes the wrong kind.”

Isla nodded, thinking.

“Maybe not talking about the sword in Vega was the best decision.”

“Exactly. And now we can’t just start advertising the damned thing to everyone. We ask questions first. We listen…” He narrowed his eyes at Flint, “and we figure out who we can trust.”

“Only then do we tell people why we’ve come.”

Flint nodded earnestly.

“Okay, I understand.”

𓌏

The walls of Celeste rose high above the surrounding countryside, though unlike Vega, there were no merchant caravans crowding the entrance. Most of the travelers carried books instead of crates, blending almost seamlessly with the students in dark purple robes hurrying through the gates, while elderly scholars argued over matters neither Flint nor Murry could begin to understand.

“…No inspection cabins?” Flint asked.

“No.”

Murry pointed ahead.

“They do things differently here.”

One by one, travelers stepped through a shimmering curtain of pale blue light stretched between two stone pillars. As each person passed through, the barrier briefly glowed before fading back to its original hue.

“Next.”

Flint stepped forward, and the barrier washed over him like cool water. It shimmered crimson for the briefest instant before settling back into pale blue, prompting the guard to glance at the crystal resting beside him.

“Clear. Next.”

“That’s it?” Flint asked.

“That’s it.”

“I… see.”

That’s better than what Vega did. Flint affirmed, without saying it aloud.

𓌏

The quill stopped as Flint answered.

“The Grand Academy?”

“I think so.”

The woman adjusted her glasses.

“The Academy rarely accepts woodcutters.”

Rarely? Does that mean they have in the past?

Flint shook the silly thought away.

“Oh. I don’t want to join.”

The woman looked over her glasses, “Then?”

Flint gulped. Deceiving people had never sat well with him, but Murry was right. He couldn't risk putting his friends in danger.

“I just wanna ask the people there a few questions.”

The woman looked up properly for the first time.

“We kindly ask that all answers given during this evaluation be truthful. They will be used solely for administrative purposes.”

She smiled with abundant charm.

Flint blinked a few times. If the answers were only being used for administrative purposes... then there was no reason not to be honest, right?

“It’s about this.”

He placed the Bloodblade on the table.

The woman lowered her glasses to examine it, only for the color to drain ever so slightly from her face.

Without a single word, she quietly rose from her chair, walked out of the room, and slammed the door behind her.

Silence.

Flint scratched his chin as he watched the closed door.

“I’m definitely in trouble.”

By the time Flint stepped out of the interview office, Isla and Murry were already waiting for him in the hallway.

Murry’s eye twitched.

“Kid. What did I tell you?”

Flint frowned.

“…Not to tell people.”

“YES.”

Flint frowned.

“But she said my answers would only be used for evaluation.”

“And?!”

“And I was honest.”

Murry slowly covered his face with his gloved hand.

“God… give me strength.”

Isla let out the tiniest sigh, though a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“I can’t believe they deceived you like that. I’m gonna have a word with the executive officer.”

Before either of them could move, the measured echo of footsteps drifted through the hallway. A neatly dressed man in dark purple Academy robes approached, an embroidered golden crest adorning his chest while a leather portfolio rested neatly beneath his right arm. Reaching the three travelers, he stopped and offered them a courteous bow.

“Mr. Flint?”

Flint raised a hand.

“Yes?”

The man smiled professionally.

“Excellent. My name is Edwin. I serve as an administrative officer of the Grand Academy.”

“Nice to meet you.” Flint bowed despite Murry’s glare.

“I’ve been asked to escort you to the Grand Academy, Mr. Flint.”

Silence.

Murry slowly lowered his hand from his face.

“…Already?”

“Yes. The Department of Ancient History is preparing for your arrival.”

“They’re preparing?” Isla smiled wryly.

Murry narrowed his eyes.

“And why exactly does the academy want with a woodcutter?”

The scholar glanced toward the black sheath resting at Flint’s hip.

“I believe you already know the answer.”

Murry sighed.

“Kid...”

Flint slouched in guilt.

“I know…”

“You’re never answering surveys again.”

The scholar gestured politely toward the street outside.

“The carriage is waiting.”

Flint blinked.

“There’s a carriage?”

“For Academy guests.”

Murry frowned.

“So we’re guests now?”

The scholar smiled.

“As of approximately three minutes ago, yes”

“I always wanted to ride in a carriage.” Isla beamed, completely disregarding all the rest.

𓌏

The carriage rolled away from the city offices and into the heart of Celeste. Resting an elbow against the window, Flint quietly took it all in.

Unlike Vega, the streets here felt surprisingly spacious. Wide stone avenues wound between elegant white buildings whose flower-filled balconies overlooked shaded plazas, where people lingered over cups of tea while merchants displayed books, maps, enchanted trinkets, and more ordinary wares side by side. Children darted around a marble fountain in fits of laughter, and not far away an adventurer in battered armor haggled with a blacksmith while two elderly scholars argued passionately over a weathered manuscript.

The city was every bit as lively as Vega, yet somehow the bustle never felt overwhelming. Celeste carried itself with a quieter rhythm, where even the noise seemed to belong.

“It seems peaceful here.” Flint murmured.

Edwin smiled.

“Celeste has always preferred discussion over shouting.”

Murry glanced out the opposite window.

“Really? I can hear plenty of shouting.”

Murry pointed at the two elderly scholars they just passed.

“I said your translation ignores the fourth verse entirely!”

“It was a footnote, you short-sighted fool!”

Edwin politely looked away.

“Scholar debates can get heated.”

Isla laughed into her sleeve.

As the carriage climbed a gentle hill, the rooftops gradually gave way to a sweeping view of the city below. It didn't take long for Flint's eyes to settle on a slender white tower rising high above everything else, its crystal crown catching the afternoon sun.

Isla pointed toward it.

“Is this a monument of some sort?”

“This is the Astral Spire.”

Edwin followed her gaze.

“It was raised after the Fall of Astra. A reminder that while kingdoms may crumble…”

He smiled faintly.

“…knowledge should not.”

Isla watched the crystal glimmer against the blue sky.

“It really is beautiful.”

The carriage continued onward until the Grand Academy finally came into view. Even from a distance, it was impossible to miss, and Flint found himself unconsciously leaning closer to the window.

“…Oh.”

Stone buildings stretched farther than he could see.

Elegant towers pierced the sky above broad courtyards, while covered walkways lined with trees connected libraries, lecture halls, and laboratories into what felt like a city of learning unto itself. Students crossed high bridges between buildings as others practiced magic across the open lawns below, yet even among everything that surrounded it, one structure drew Flint's eye above all the rest.

At the very heart of the Academy stood its oldest building, crowned by a great clock tower that overlooked the entire campus.

“It’s even grander than it was described in the books…” Isla gulped.

Edwin chuckled.

“Many visitors say something similar.”

The carriage rolled beneath an enormous stone archway before the horses came to a gentle stop. Edwin stepped down first, opening the carriage door before offering the three travelers a polite bow.

“Mr. Flint and friends. The Grand Academy welcomes you.”

𓌏

Edwin led them beneath the Academy’s great archway and into a vast marble hall.

Students hurried in every direction, some carrying towers of books while others talked about papers covered in diagrams Flint couldn’t even begin to understand.

“Does everyone walk this fast?” he whispered.

“Most of them are usually late for something.” Edwin replied.

They climbed a broad staircase, leaving the bustle of the Academy behind as the corridors gradually grew quieter. Lecture halls gave way to libraries, libraries to archives, until even the sound of hurried footsteps were lost in the distance. Just around the next corner stood a knight in polished silver armor, a greatsword resting across his back.

“Afternoon, Sir Roland.” Edwin greeted.

“Edwin.” The knight nodded, his long black hair moving with the motion. He turned to the unfamiliar group.

“You must be our guests.”

“I think so.” Flint nodded politely.

“The Academy can seem overwhelming at first.” Sir Roland smiled, “Don’t hesitate to ask for directions.”

With that the group continued walking down the hallway.

“Don’t be intimidated by our knights. The Academy Knights are here to protect visitors and scholars alike.”

“Intimated by him?” Murry scoffed, “Why? Because his armor was sparkling clean?”

“Why is there a need for security within the academy?” Isla asked.

“The Academy houses the most important knowledge in the kingdom. Artifacts, scrolls… Knowledge must always be protected and preserved.”

Edwin finally stopped before a sturdy oak door.

A polished brass plaque read:

Department of Ancient History

Beneath it, in much smaller letters—

Crimson Gate Studies

Edwin knocked.

“Come in!”

“No, that’s the wrong shelf!”

“I KNOW IT’S THE WRONG SHELF!”

“…Interesting.”

“Otto… that’s not helping!”

Edwin smiled apologetically.

“…They’re rather enthusiastic.”

He opened the door.

The room looked as though a library had exploded. Books covered nearly every desk, while ancient maps hung pinned across the walls beside sketches of forgotten ruins. Shelves overflowed with pottery fragments, rusted weapons, and artifacts Flint couldn't even begin to identify.

Near the back of the room, a brown-haired girl stood balanced on a chair, stretching toward the highest shelf.

“I almost—”

The chair wobbled.

“I GOT IT!”

She triumphantly held up a dusty clay tablet.

“Clara.” came a flat voice, “Please get down.”

“Awww…”

The girl obeyed immediately.

Almost completely hidden behind a mountain of books sat a short young man, who spoke without ever looking up.

“The tablet you’re holding was catalogued under Section Twelve.”

The enthusiastic girl blinked.

“…I hadn’t even asked.”

“You were going to.”

At another desk, a young man with swept-back dark hair peered through a strange crystal device toward a glowing shard.

“Hmm…”

He frowned.

“Interesting.”

“…Otto.”

“Hm…”

Otto didn’t seem to care enough to answer. Instead, Flint's attention drifted toward the center of the room, where a silver-blonde girl with twintails scribbled furiously across several pages, completely oblivious to the commotion unfolding around her.

“Ludmilla.”

Nothing.

The blue-haired woman cleared her throat and tried again.

“Ludmilla.”

“Hm?”

She finally looked up, her gaze silently following the woman's gesture toward the door. It lingered there only briefly before settling on Flint, then slowly drifting to the sword strapped across his hip.

The room fell completely silent.

Ludmilla's chair scraped across the floor as she rose. Crossing the room without taking her eyes off the Bloodblade, she came to a stop before Flint.

“…May I?”