Three weeks slipped by like trash drifting down a river. The planned expedition to Friedrich County had been canceled. The official reason? Internal conflict among senior instructors. In its place, we were assigned a Situational Assessment Exam.
Now, I stood in one of the Academy's crowded hallways. It was the 17th of Quintilis. Spring in the Eastern Cledestine Kingdom brought cool air and warm, gentle sunlight. The breeze carried hints of blooming flowers from the gardens… and a faint trace of coal smoke from the industrial district.
"Welt!"
That panicked voice. Only one person on campus ever sounded like a rabbit constantly being chased by a wolf. I turned, and sure enough, Finnian O'Connell was sprinting toward me with that usual ridiculous look of terror plastered across his face.
"What now?" I asked flatly. "Don't tell me you accidentally declared war on another noble family again."
"No!" he gasped, trying to hide behind me. Useless attempt, considering our height difference.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Deliberate footsteps echoed down the hallway, like a giant stomping its way forward.
"Finnian! You ripped my notes on Essence fluctuation patterns!"
The voice belonged to a girl, one that was absolutely fuming.
"Welt… please…" Finnian whimpered.
I had no interest in being a human shield in another one of his childish messes. Stepping aside, I yanked Finnian from behind me and shoved him forward, right into the jaws of the predator. "Nope. You deal with it."
Irene Cheva stopped in front of us, her face red, not from embarrassment, but pure rage. Her glare locked onto Finnian, who now looked like a leaf trembling in autumn wind.
"Compensation. Now. Fin!" Irene barked.
She took her research seriously. Damaging her notes was the same as personal betrayal.
I decided I was done here. I turned to leave, acting like nothing happened. But then a hand clamped around my arm, slender fingers, surprisingly strong grip.
"You too, kid," Irene growled. Her eyes now shifted to me. "You're my witness."
I sighed and turned back around, face blank. "Witness to what? I didn't do anything."
"Exactly," she snapped. "Your mistake was being here and doing nothing. Now you're coming with us to the admin office, where you'll watch Finnian reimburse every sheet of parchment and every drop of specialty ink he ruined."
A monumental waste of time… but flat-out refusal would only complicate things. I needed to outmaneuver this trap with logic.
"That's not efficient," I said. "Administrative procedures will eat up at least an hour, an hour Finnian could use to start copying your notes. I'll supervise and ensure the copies meet your standards. That's a more productive form of compensation for all of us."
Irene stared at me, the edge of her anger dulling. She was weighing it.
"…Fine," she said at last, letting go of my arm. "But if there's even one mistake in his copy, you're the one paying for it, Welt."
Before this little drama could drag on further, the great bell atop the Academy's main tower rang out, summoning all students. The Situational Assessment announcement was about to begin.
We hurried to the main hall with the rest. It buzzed with quiet chatter. I stood in the back, flanked by Finnian and, to my surprise, Irene, who had opted to stand near us while keeping her distance from the rest of the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Roshtov in another line, standing alone. And farther back in a shadowed corner, I glimpsed William Salwors.
Master Borin stepped onto the stage, his wrinkled face unusually grim.
"Attention, cadets. As you know, the expedition to Friedrich County has been canceled. In its place, the Annual Situational Assessment Exam will begin tomorrow morning at six sharp."
The hall fell silent.
"This year's scenario is the 'Monolith Tower Incident,'" he continued. "A 'murder' has occurred. The victim is a high-ranking official from the Royal Research Bureau. The setting: a sealed training facility in the Northern Wing. You'll be divided into investigative squads. Your task is to examine the scene, analyze evidence, question 'witnesses,' and submit a final report within twenty-four hours identifying the culprit and their motive. The team with the most logical and accurate analysis will be declared the winner."
A detective game, clear as day.
"Squad assignments will be announced now," Master Borin said, unrolling a parchment scroll.
I already knew they'd put me in a squad designed to test me. I just didn't know who they'd pair me with.
"Squad Gamma: Lian Valerius, Finnian O'Connell, Roshtov Valerius…" Master Borin paused at Roshtov's name, likely realizing the risk of putting two feuding brothers together. "…Irene Cheva, Cassian Droct, and… Welt Rothes."
This was going to be a show.
...…
From a quiet corner, William observed the squad list. He had been placed in Squad Beta, a competent team.
He opened a new page in his notebook.
Situational Assessment Entry: Subject W-01 assigned to Squad Gamma.
Squad Composition: Lian Valerius (aggressive variable, strong hierarchical bias), Finnian O'Connell (submissive, easily influenced, loyal to W-01), Roshtov Valerius (internal observer, potential for sibling conflict or alliance), Irene Cheva (intellectual variable, independent), Cassian Droct (alpha leader type).
William wanted to see how W-01 would handle misinformation. Would he detect it? Ignore it? Or build a brilliant theory atop rotten foundations?
This was an experiment. And William Salwors was eagerly awaiting the results.
...…
The next morning, Squad Gamma assembled outside the Northern Wing's training facility. Cassian Droct was already at the front, acting like he was in command.
"Alright, listen up," he said in a gravelly voice. "I'll be leading this operation. Lian, you and I will check the primary crime scene. Roshtov, check the outer perimeter for signs of entry. Irene, review the victim's comm logs. Finnian, go make us tea. And you", he turned to me, eyes filled with barely disguised contempt, "stay out of the way."
Assignments based purely on social rank, not competence. Typical.
I didn't argue. I simply nodded. Let him feel in charge. The more power he thought he had, the bigger the mistakes he'd make.
We entered the crime scene. It was a posh office made to look ransacked. A mannequin dressed in the robes of a high official lay on the floor, with a fake stab wound to the chest. Fake blood splattered the area, papers were scattered, and a safe stood open and empty.
Cassian and Lian pounced like overeager hounds, fussing over the "body," searching for the "murder weapon," shouting out obvious clues. "There's mud near the window! That's how the intruder got in!" Cassian declared.
Irene ignored them completely and went straight to the data terminal in the corner. Roshtov hesitated, then followed orders to inspect the perimeter. Finnian looked unsure if he was actually supposed to make tea.
About an hour passed before Cassian gathered us.
"Alright, report!"
Lian said the victim had been stabbed. Cassian concluded it was an outside intruder, stealing something from the safe. Roshtov reported no clear footprints outside, just a few unidentifiable ones. Irene, eyes still on the screen, said, "Last message sent by the victim was an encrypted note to an unregistered address, five minutes before time of death."
"And you, Rothes?" Cassian sneered. "Find anything useful while you spaced out in the corner?"
I looked at him. "Yes," I said quietly. "I found out we're all asking the wrong question."
"What the hell does that mean?" he growled.
"You're all asking, 'Who killed this official?' The better question is: 'Why do the instructors want us to believe he was killed this way?'" I stepped into the center of the room. "This isn't a murder. If anything, this is a suicide dressed up to look like a murder."
I pointed at the clues.
"That mud? It's red clay. Only found near the ceramic workshops—three kilometers away. No reason for an intruder to track that here. It was placed deliberately.
"The body's pose? Too perfect. Outstretched hand, shocked expression. It's exactly like the painting Death of Senator Cato, which happens to be hanging in the instructors' dining hall. A visual clue.
"And most telling", I pointed to a shattered teacup near the body, "there's only one cup. No guests. No signs of struggle. He poisoned himself, then in his final moments, stabbed himself, opened the safe, and trashed the room to stage a robbery. The encrypted message Irene found? Look closely, it's a will. Or a confession."
Then Irene's terminal beeped. "New data from central hub," she said. "Report from Squad Beta. They found traces of a rare toxin, Black Aconite, in the ventilation system connected to this office."
Data from William's team. Clearly false. Toxin in the vents implied an external attack, directly contradicting my theory.
Cassian laughed. "Suicide, huh? He was poisoned through the vents! You're bluffing, Rothes!"
A stalemate. They now had "evidence" supporting the murder angle.
That night, our team split. Cassian and Lian stuck with the murder theory, backed by Squad Beta's data. I held to mine, but had no proof to discredit their claim.
I sat alone in the corner, thinking through my next move. I couldn't disprove the data without revealing what I knew about William. I had to find another path. I had to construct my own truth.
Irene sat down beside me, quietly, not too close.
"You knew the answer from the start, didn't you?" she asked. "Not just for this case. For everything."
"They're wrong," I said, finally looking at her.
"Then what are they really testing?"
I gave her the first smile I'd shown since arriving in this world.
"They're testing our ability to craft the most convincing truth." I said. "And tomorrow… I'll give them a masterpiece."