Mal didn't bother pulling up his hood or hiding his eyes or anything of that sort.

  It had been nearly 15 minutes of Mal trailing Hypode, and Hypode still had no idea that he was being followed. Once in a while, he would gnce from side to side—he'd even look back in Mal's direction. But over and over again, Mal remained unnoticed.

  Mal had preferred fancier techniques when it came to stealth. He'd usually monitor people remotely, using the complex network of magical cameras. Obviously, at this time, he had no way of constructing or using such a system.

  Luckily, he’d been taught a thing or two about trailing someone.

  The vast majority of people are simply far too unaware and far too unskilled to notice that they were being followed. If you're trailing someone, most of the time, the game is yours to lose.

  The trick, according to his teacher, was to avoid looking conspicuous. Blend in with the crowd, avoid looking directly at the person. Keep them in your periphery, instead.

  Before she'd been one of his generals, she’d been a street urchin. She'd noted that most noblemen would've been embarrassed to be taught such a disgraceful skill by someone like her. Mal, of course, hadn't cared.

  Once again, he promised to himself that he'd find her and repay her for everything. But that would be at a ter date.

  Hypode swept his gaze from left to right. Mal made a subtle turn to make it look like he was heading at an angle completely unreted to where Hypode was heading. At the same time, the angle of his face was such that it would be extremely difficult for Hypode to pick him out.

  Mal looked at the back of Hypode's head. Good, he'd already turned back. Mal curved back toward Hypode and continued trailing him.

  They didn't have too long. It'd already been 15 minutes, and lunch break would be over in 30. So that meant Hypode had to be close to his destination—unless, of course, he was just pnning to skip out on combat css. Mal hoped this wasn't the case, as it would be rather embarrassing to end up te.

  Hypode stopped in front of a door and knocked.

  He whispered something under his breath, far too low for Mal to hear. The door opened and Hypode stepped in. The door shut behind him.

  Mal walked up to the door and sidled his ear up against the frame. He could just make out footsteps heading deeper into the building. If he didn't make it in, he'd miss out on whatever Hypode was up to. On the other hand, was this even really worth it? For all he knew, Hypode was just going to his weekly knitting club or something.

  Yet his instincts screamed at him the moment he took a single step back.

  No, he knew there was something off about Hypode's behavior. Whatever he was up to wasn't innocent in nature. And if there was a chance it could blow back on Mal ter down the line…

  Well, he was already here. He might as well make sure for himself.

  He inspected the door more closely. A keyhole. He looked in through the keyhole just to make sure there was nobody there—and there was no one. Whoever had been standing guard at the door had followed Hypode deeper into the building.

  He pushed on the door and it bumped up against the doorframe. Locked.

  It would've been nice if they'd left it unlocked, Mal thought.

  He went around the edges of the building and looked for any windows. There was one just to the side of the door. He crept toward its edge and peeked in. Nothing, the windows had been bcked out. He tried to open it as quietly as he could, but it wouldn't budge.

  He gnced back around himself in a circle. There were one or two people looking at him, but most of them were too busy trying to avoid eye contact with anyone else. Hypode had taken him to a very odd part of the city.

  He went back to the keyhole. He was tempted to try his luck lock picking, but he only knew bits and pieces of theory, thanks to the urchin girl. He'd never bothered to practice it.

  The only other option that came to mind was busting down the door—even one of his useless arcane spheres would probably have enough force to bst a hole through the wood. But at that point, he could kiss any chance of getting information goodbye. Hypode and whoever he was with would probably just run away.

  With every second that passed, too, Mal was losing valuable information. Well, potentially valuable. He still wasn't sure what Hypode was actually up to. As Mal rolled around the different possibilities, he found that his lips had quirked up.

  To think that one of the most powerful wizards of all time was being stopped by a door—it was a rather funny sight, when he thought about it.

  The urchin girl had given him advice for situations like this, hadn't she? Something about how people were far, far stupider than he could imagine.

  He looked up at the top of the doorframe where ivies had sprouted along the stone bricks.

  He reached his hand up and brushed it along the top of the doorframe. Nothing save for a thin trail of dust.

  He looked back down at the ground and noticed a faint glint of steel wedged in between two stone bricks.

  Mal sighed. He reached down and picked up the key.

  And that's another favor I owe you, teacher. I'll be sure to repay you appropriately.

  The door swung open, key turned and inserted. Mal crept in, his ears tuned for the slightest noise and movement. He moved like a shadow, his footsteps soft and padded from years of training and experience.

  Then he took a step and it made a loud creak. He winced.

  When nobody turned the corner or shouted or yelled, he breathed a sigh. His attention turned to his feet. His mind and the commands it gave were as sharp as ever, but his body was unable to keep pace. Training with Philo had helped, but the fundamental problem was still there. A mismatch between what he thought his body's capabilities were and what they actually were.

  A problem for another time, he thought.

  He slowed down his pace to ensure he would not make such a mistake again. He passed by a shut door—whispering. He stopped and pressed his ear against the wood.

  "— Honestly, you really shouldn't develop that habit any further."

  "I know, I know. Wouldn't do to end up like my old man, would it?"

  The second voice. It was Hypode. But what were they talking about? There was a beat of silence when the first voice spoke again.

  "Have you been enjoying your time at the school?"

  Hypode snorted. "Enjoy is one word for it. Emerald is a crybaby as always." There was the sound of ice knocking against gss. "The professors are completely tiresome. Vigil goes on and on about what surviving means, Igna's hostility toward every single person in her css is painfully obvious, and Cassandra —" Hypode spat. "The daughter of a witch shouldn't be in an Academy for wizards."

  Mal frowned. The fact that Hypode had such derision for an Academy as prestigious as Exodi was pretty surprising. Not only that, but he'd apparently had the social acumen to recognize that Igna was putting on a mask. For someone who made himself out to be such a ponce, it was curious that he was able to pick those details out.

  Then again, Mal did have a horrible impression of the boy. It could've been that this was his normal personality, and he just lost his reason whenever he interacted with Mal.

  "And the headmaster?"

  “The only sane man, Norin. I have no idea how he deals with those idiots."

  The first voice ughed. "I agree. It's a shame he isn't in my year. I don't know why he only teaches freshmen."

  Oh, so the first voice was also a student. But why had they decided to go off campus? They must've desperately wanted to avoid being associated with each other. Something inside Mal's mind itched. That voice was beginning to sound strangely familiar. It was someone he’d met. Not someone he was close to, but he'd at least heard the person before—a face fshed into his mind.

  The senior student. The commoner who'd given him that advice. His name was Norin.

  Mal's eyes narrowed. But what was he doing here? And why was he talking with Hypode?

  "It's a shame that the headmaster is opposed to our goals," Norin said. "If someone like him was on our side, things would be much simpler."

  Mal stiffened. Why would the headmaster be opposed to them?

  "He has a right to his beliefs, just as we have a right to ours," Hypode said. "It doesn't matter. Soon enough, everyone will see that we're in the right."

  Mal was beginning to get the feeling that he'd severely underestimated Hypode. Not in terms of his power—no, Hypode was still an unimportant and useless mage. But it seemed that Hypode was associated with something far more dangerous than Mal could've possibly expected.

  An organization. A group dedicated to tearing down the current social order. Mal's blood chilled.

  He looked at the keyhole. There was one way to confirm. If he could get a look at the inside, there was a chance that they were wearing an emblem or insignia with the symbol of the Bird Eaters. A Bckcaw.

  Mal got down on one knee and tilted his body so that his eye was parallel to the keyhole. The first thing he saw were the faces of the two speakers. One was the senior, Norin, that Mal had run across before. The other was Hypode. He had a gss of wine in his hand. The two looked rexed, calm, like friends meeting up for lunch.

  They were wearing strange clothes, bck cloaks that completely covered their bodies from head to toe. And then he caught sight of two things, and his heart dropped. In both their pockets was a hanging chain with a metal figurine of the Bckcaw. And around their necks were hanging masks. The masks had long beaks in the style of the birds, and there were two lenses for the eyes. It was all in the style of the Bird Eaters.

  But… the masks were wrong.

  Mal had encountered those masks a handful of times, but he could never forget their design. They were longer than the ones that Hypode and the senior had. Not only that, but the construction and color were different. Real Bird Eaters masks were made of a dark, almost blood-red metal, while the ones that Mal was seeing were far too bright. And despite how much Mal despised the Bird Eaters, he had to admit that their metalworkers knew what they were doing. The quality was pristine, without a single speck of imperfection, so well polished that Mal would probably be able to see his reflection at the right angle.

  But Hypode's mask was spotty, full of minor bubbles where air had gotten trapped. It was well-made, certainly, but not to the same standard as the previous ones Mal had run across.

  Something was off. But what was it?

  Mal focused back in on their conversation. They continued talking, but Mal had been too busy trying to figure out what was happening to pay attention.

  "— But that's why we’re doing the summoning,” Hypode said. "For the sake of our families. To finally get back the prestige that's been lost because of people like him."

  The senior student's breath hitched. "Of course. Families like ours."

  They nodded to each other and Hypode stepped toward the door. Mal's heart leapt into his throat and he staggered back toward the entrance. He had to make it out before they opened that door—the hinge creaked.

  Mal turned his head back and saw Hypode looking directly at him.