It was midday, the sun high up somewhere in the sky. Still, the hearth was lit, flames burning and wood crackling. The smoke rose into the tunnel that guided it out through the chimney. Mrs. Talwort sat, nestled in a high-backed chair, its carved oak arms worn smooth by years of hands before hers.

The room around her breathed history. Stone walls were draped in rich tapestries. Beams were darkened with age. The scent of jasmine candles lingered in the air. In an old civilization history claimed that jasmine was the smell of death. Mrs. Talwort thought it to be nothing but balderdash. Not the history, but the belief that death smelled like jasmine in any way. Jasmine was just too nice a smell to her.

Quietly, she sat with a laptop on the mahogany table in front of her. Her spectacles perched low on her nose as her eyes moved steadily across the screen of the laptop. The faint blue light danced across her weathered face. Fingers long accustomed to the use of keyboard moved gently over the keys as she typed in the information she needed.

Interestingly enough, the laptop was the height of modern technology in the room. All else was from a time so long ago that it significantly predated the rise of technologies like laptops. She had a wall clock, though, but that was just a wall clock.

The magical enhancements in the room, however, remained top notch. Her predecessors had never slacked on the magical enhancements and Mrs. Talwort had no intention of being the first to do so.

Done typing, she settled her attention on the information on the screen of her laptop.

"Priority one citizens," Mrs. Talwort muttered as she read the document on her laptop.

A slight frown touched her lips. That wasn't enough to make the Lockwood brothers that important. Tatelat was filled with priority one citizens. Sons and daughters of high-ranking Delvers so powerful that they were political interests just by being alive.

Countries always tried to poach Delvers, so countries gave Delvers incentives to stay every day. Making them high priority citizens as well as their family members was one way to do that. In another school, a priority one citizen would be a huge deal. Not in Fallen High, though.

She adjusted her glasses, her bad eye acting up. "Which means there has to be something else."

Ignoring her bad eye, she read through the details in front of her. Not everybody had access to the priority list. In fact, not everybody knew that there was a priority list. Like the priority one citizens only politically exposed people were aware, and the phrase did not mean people who knew about politics and paid attention to it. It meant those who held positions of power great enough to actually influence politics.

"Ah," she mused as she slowly stopped scrolling. "There it is. Sons of David and Aurora Lockwood."

Sighing, Mrs. Talwort sat back. Taking off her glasses, she rubbed the bridge of her nose and stared up at her ceiling. It was a bland thing, a simple thing.

She frowned slightly. She felt like she already knew that the Oath of War had kids. The question now was how exactly had she forgotten?

"David," she muttered under her breath. She knew the name. By the life of her she knew the name. "David Lockwood."

How couldn't she remember who War's husband was? It was more disconcerting because while she couldn't remember who exactly he was, he felt like a wild card to her. Mrs. Talwort hated not knowing.

"War got married and had kids," she muttered to herself. "That's interesting."

Then again, it wasn't like she knew anything real about the lives of the Oaths. She didn't even know what all the Oaths looked like. Just a few. She didn't even know all their names. Maybe just a handful and at least one of them was dead.

Again, it felt as if she was already supposed to have known this. Leaning forward, she looked at the name of War's husband. David Lockwood. She knew the name. More interesting was that she'd met War before. She was a powerful woman, a determined woman.

"God, could she negotiate like the fate of the world depended on it," she said with a soft smile as she sat back.

To think that there was a man that War was willing to submit to. Then again, love made people do the damnedest things. Or maybe it had nothing to do with love. Maybe the man was the one submitting to her.

That made more sense to Mrs. Talwort. She could definitely see a man submitting to someone like War. The woman was tall, built like someone who's body had a physical purpose in a portal. She was also fair in her own way.

Mrs. Talwort's smile widened. She had the sons of the Oath of War in her school. She had a boon. If she could do right by the children then the council would have a friend in an Oath… possibly. What was tricky about War, however, was that she didn't strike Mrs. Talwort as the kind of person that would appreciate you giving her child preferential treatment. If anything, that might make an enemy out of her.

She'll probably appreciate it if we treat them the way we treat every other student and not stand in their way.

Mrs. Talwort pursed her lips. Fallen High was famous for its fairness among other things. But she wasn't naïve. There were definitely teachers and instructors doing things that they were not supposed to do for personal gains and parents happy to have those teachers do those things.

Picking up her glasses, Mrs. Talwort nibbled on the end of one of the handles. Should I keep an eye out?

But that, too, would be some level of preferential treatment.

What if War would actually appreciate the preferential treatment? After all, she had gotten someone powerful, someone with an identity even she wasn't allowed to know, to intervene in her children's admissions.

Ark was already a done deal. The school had scouted him themselves. A [Demon King] was an astronomical find. Fallen High's historical knowledge—its secret—claimed that they weren't supposed to even accidentally run into one at any point in the distant future.

Melmarc, luckily, had all the requirements to be a student. In truth, by the time she had gone looking for the boy's name in the applicant pool, she found that he'd already gained admission. If War had called in a favor, she'd wasted that favor.

The only portion of the favor that was not a waste was getting Melmarc into The Promise program. Normally, he was nowhere near the requirement for it. She still didn't think it was a good idea getting him into the program. Pushed into creation by the Oaths, it was a program designed to train S-ranks.

A B-rank training amidst only S-ranks.

Mrs. Talwort shook her head. The boy had proved himself to be something of an anomaly, but they were S-ranks. People didn't understand just how different the default power settings of the S-ranks were. They started with high default stat points before even gaining the extra stat points from their skills and the effects of their skills were quite powerful. If a skill gave three stat points to a strength class, it was safe to believe that the strength stat of that class was not zero before the addition of the three points.

It was just…

"I guess a mother's a mother no matter her Oath," she muttered to herself.

With one final sigh, she placed her hand on the mouse and approved both boys' files. It was a simple process. Two clicks and it was done with a clause.

"Tar'arkna and Melmarc Lockwood," she said with a smile. "Welcome to Fallen High."

…

It was day three in Grace Hall, and while it was one of the most comfortable places Melmarc had ever had the luxury of sleeping—definitely better than sleeping in the portal—he was far from comfortable.

"Maybe it will help if you kick Spitfire," Ark suggested from beside the bed.

Spitfire bit him in response and Ark sent the demon flying across the room. Spitfire landed gracefully before it hit the wall, then rushed Ark once more. This was not a new experience for Melmarc.

The first time Ark had thrown Spitfire across the room, Melmarc had panicked, only for Ark to tell him that Spitfire had done it to him before. Unsure of how that worked, Melmarc had let the matter lie.

Then Spitfire had thrown Ark clear across the room yesterday morning. It had seemed an impossible feat until he had seen it with his own two eyes. Spitfire's size belied enormous strength. Unlike Spitfire, however, Ark never landed graciously. He always ended up slamming into the wall.

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"So?" Ark pressed. "What do you say?"

Melmarc raised a brow. "To what?"

"Spitfire." Ark held the demon up with one hand. He had the creature by the neck while Spitfire looked as if it was tired of him. "Wanna kick him?"

"Just out of curiosity," Melmarc said slowly. "Have you two become extra violent recently?"

Ark nodded enthusiastically, as if becoming extra violent was supposed to be a good thing. "You handle your anxiety at not knowing if we've qualified or not by sulking and talking to Pelumi when she visits. Spitfire and I handle ours by beating each other up. It's therapeutic. You should try it. I know Spitfire wouldn't—Ow!"

Spitfire fell from his grip, hit the ground without a thud, and scurried over to stand by Melmarc's foot. There, it glared at Ark.

Ark raised his hand, studied it.

"Asshole didn't break the skin this time," he noted before proceeding to stick his tongue out at the demon. "Anyway, you should really try not to think too hard about it."

Melmarc knew he shouldn't try to think too hard about it, but it wasn't that easy. Sighing, he plopped back down on his reading table.

The entire wait since the end of the test, Ark had been sleeping in his room. Why? Because his room was boring and he had nobody to disturb.

"What of Patience?" Ark asked, snapping a finger as if it had taken him a moment to remember her. "Have two of you finally spoken?"

Melmarc's attention moved subconsciously to his phone on the table. They had, in fact, not spoken. The question was what he was going to say. He had no excuse to give her. Why had he not told her that he was coming to Fallen High? Because he simply hadn't. There had been no intention behind not telling her. He didn't tell her because he didn't tell her.

But I can't tell her that, he thought. It will make me sound horrible.

"Are you scared of talking to her?" Ark asked.

Melmarc paused, took a moment to think about it. "No."

"So, call her up and tell her what happened. Talk to her." Ark took a deep breath and let it out. "If not for any other reason than the fact that she tried to be your friend."

"But what do I say?"

Ark shrugged. "I lie a lot because it's fun. So, I can tell you one thing: the truth is always best. So why do you think she's unhappy with you?"

"Because I didn't tell her I was coming to Fallen High."

"And why didn't you tell her you were coming to Fallen High?"

Melmarc shrugged. "I just… didn't."

"Oof," Ark muttered with a wince. "That's cruel. Did you guys ever talk about school?"

Melmarc nodded.

"How often?"

"Not that much," Melmarc answered. "But enough times for me to know that she was excited about coming here."

"And she never asked you what school you were going to?"

"Nope."

"I see." Ark stroked his jaw while Spitfire eyed the wardrobe suspiciously. "And you never thought that maybe she felt you were a secretive person and you just wanted to share at your own time?"

"I considered that possibility," Melmarc admitted.

Ark gave him a flat look. "And you still didn't share?"

Now that he was having a conversation about it with Ark, he sounded worse than he had sounded in his head.

"I'm not saying you owe her friendship or anything, Mel," Ark said with a look of genuine disappointment. "But I'm saying you owed her something. It's the decent thing. The human thing."

Melmarc wasn't sure what to say to that. No. He had nothing to say to that.

His mood must have shown on his expression because Ark sighed, drawing his attention. He looked less disappointed and more tired.

"You're not a monster, Mel," he said. "You're just a teenager that doesn't know that much about girls."

"Can you say that with absolute certainty," Melmarc asked, even though there was no dissonance.

"Let's look at this from a different angle. How would Eroms or Delano have felt if you hadn't told them and you just showed up in Fallen High and they saw you?"

Melmarc didn't have to think about it. "We'll probably have a laugh about it."

As long as they didn't lie to each other or intentionally hide pieces of information that affected each other, the trio were always good. Melmarc knew it from experience. They were good friends, but they didn't bother each other much.

If it's important, we'll know, Delano had often said.

"That's why I say you're not a monster," Ark said. "Your only real and long term friends since you hit puberty have been two boys." He paused and made a sketchy gesture with his hand. "Sus, but who am I to judge. My point is that you don't know how to be a friend to a girl because some of the things that they think about are things that don't necessarily cross your mind. Ergo, inexperienced teenager, not monster."

"I should probably call her, shouldn't I?" Melmarc asked sheepishly.

"Start with a message. It'll give her time to process if she wants to hear your side of the story or not."

Melmarc nodded, picking up his phone from the table.

Three days, he thought. Three days and he hadn't even tried to message her. He couldn't blame Ark, he was disappointed in himself, too.

Opening his message app, he scrolled over to her name. He was about to click on it before his phone started ringing.

"Who's that?" Ark asked.

Melmarc picked up the call, putting the phone to his ear as he answered. "It's Nin."

"Hello, brother dearest," Ninra's voice came from the other end of the phone. "Are you an official student yet?"

Melmarc shook his head. "Nope. They are making us wait."

"THEIR LETTING US STEW!" Ark yelled. "It's just wrong."

Ninra paused. "Aren't you guys supposed to have your own separate rooms? What's the devil doing in yours?"

"[Demon King]," Melmarc corrected, knowing that he actually didn't have to. "And he's here because his room is boring to him."

"I'm keeping Mel in check," Ark muttered in a voice low enough that Ninra didn't hear him.

"So…" Ninra dragged the word as if she wasn't sure of what she wanted to say. "Who's heard from mom recently?"

Melmarc switched the call to speaker phone and placed it on the table.

"I spoke to mom yesterday afternoon," he said. "Why?"

"Spoke to mom the last time I spoke to mom," Ark answered, nonchalant. "Why? What's up?"

"Did you notice anything off?" Ninra asked.

Ark thought about it before answering. "Nope."

Ninra sighed. "Not you, Ark. You mean well but if it's not Mel, I don't think you can differentiate between letters in the alphabet."

"What can I say?" Ark made a vague gesture as Spitfire approached him very cautiously. "Mel needs all the extra attention."

"I really don't," Melmarc muttered. To Ninra, he added: "Yea, I did notice something different."

Ark's attention perked up at that.

"Exactly," Ninra agreed. "I just can't put my finger on what it was."

"She was precise with her words," Melmarc supplied. "And she wasn't home. Mom's always home."

"Unless she's out for work," Ark said.

"No portals," Ninra offered. "She doesn't have any work to do. You think she's just bored and deciding to leave the house?"

Melmarc was already shaking his head. "Mom doesn't talk slowly and precisely with me. She only started after I…"

"Got back from the portal," Ark finished for him.

There was a moment of silence that settled between the three of them. It went as far as settling over the entire room.

When it was broken, it was broken by all three of them.

"Mom's hiding something," they said in unison.

"She used precise words so that I won't sense the dissonance," Melmarc realized. "It won't be new to her since dad has the same ability that I have."

"Any idea what she could be lying about?" Ninra asked.

Ark and Melmarc shrugged.

"Loving you maybe," Ark said. "I'm sure she lies about it everyday."

"Tar'arkna," Ninra said very carefully.

Ark stiffened. There was a moment of silence. "Sorry," he said. "We're being serious and I'm joking around."

"Apology accepted," Ninra said. "Any ideas on what she would be hiding from us?"

Melmarc had no idea. "Someone should call Uncle Dorthna. I think he'll know."

The phone vibrated and Melmarc looked at it. Ninra was adding Uncle Dorthna. Their uncle's call rang for a while before he picked up.

"What's the council of elders calling for?" Uncle Dorthna's voice came through. "Are we judging some kind of matter?"

"Mom's hiding something from us," Ninra said abruptly. "What's she hiding from us?"

There was a pause.

Uncle Dorthna sighed in resignation.

"Narnia," he said.

Three of them paused. Melmarc had no idea what that was. He and Ark exchanged a look. Ark also had no idea what their uncle was talking about.

"Narnia?" Ark asked.

"Uhuh," Uncle Dorthna answered.

"What's Narnia?"

"None of ya business."

Then he hung up.

"That was… odd," Ninra said after a while.

"Whatever it is," Ark muttered, stroking Spitfire's head now that the demon was lying next to him. "I think it's a big deal."

"Who would like to join me to investigate?" Ninra offered.

Melmarc thought about it. "Are we calling dad?"

"Nah," Ark shook his head. "He hasn't been picking his call for the last two days."

Melmarc blinked. Ark had been calling their dad? It wasn't completely out of place but they had since learnt that calling their dad was a gamble with the odds not being in their favor. If they wanted to talk to their dad, they had a better chance calling their mom and having her give the phone to him.

The phone vibrated again.

Melmarc looked down at it and froze. "You're calling dad?"

"No loss in trying," Ninra answered.

To everyone's surprise, someone picked.

"Ninra and Melmarc," their father's voice came through, deep and strong.

"Ark, too," Ark chimed in, sitting up on the bed. "You haven't been picking your calls."

"Busy." It was all their father could say.

"Where are you?" Ninra asked very carefully.

"Busy."

"Are you safe?" Melmarc tried.

They heard something crash in the distance. Someone screamed.

"Did I just hear something crack?" Ark asked, a little panicked. "Dad, are you in a fight?"

"No."

The sounds that followed disagreed with their father's word. Yet, Melmarc sensed no dissonance. Was their father immune to it like Uncle Dorthna?

"What are you doing, dad?" Ninra asked very carefully.

Melmarc and Ark's phone beeped. The sound was the one they got when they received an email. Ark hesitated to look down at his phone. They were all waiting for their dad's answer.

"I'm…" their dad paused in time for someone to cry out in pain in the background. "I'm beating some people up."

"Flank him!" someone roared in the background. It was followed by the sound of what could easily have been gunshots.

"I will call tomorrow," their father said. "Goodbye, Ninra, Melmarc, and Tar'arkna."

Then the line went dead on his end.

Ark sighed. "Dad's beating people up. That's new."

"And not good," Ninra said. "I've got to call mom."

"Tell her to send me money," Ark said.

"Dude," Melmarc shot him a look. "We just got here. You haven't even spent a dime."

"True, but you can't have too much money."

"Got to go guys," Ninra said. "Got to call your mother."

"She's your mother, too," Ark called out, but the call had ended.

"Now," Ark said, as if he wasn't bothered, "time to see what email I've got."

Melmarc unlocked his phone at the same time, opening his email. Ark was looking down at his phone. He had a contemplative look on his face. In the end, when he spoke, his tone was lackluster.

"My admission has been finalized." He sighed in boredom and discarded the phone on the bed. "Well, that was anticlimactic."

Melmarc looked down at his phone, read the email once more. Then he looked up at Ark.

"Why do I have a probationary admission?"

Ark snorted. "Text Patience, and I'll tell you."

Melmarc frowned. He had never heard of Fallen High giving a probationary admittance. Still, probationary or not, he was at least admitted. He scrolled over to Patience's chat as he pondered what exactly his type of admission meant and sent her a quick message.

He waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Realization settled on him as he looked at the message he had sent. It showed on his face because Ark spoke.

"What's up? Did she answer immediately?"

Melmarc looked up from his phone. "No."

"Then what's got you looking like that?"

"I think…" he looked back down at the message, then up at Ark. "I think she blocked me."

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