After Fabrisse had accepted the directive, Draeth reached into the inner pocket of his robe and produced a narrow, vellum scroll. He handed it over without a word. The edges gleamed faintly where wards had been etched along the seams.

"Non-disclosure," Draeth said. "Mentorship, method, and my existence as a Stone Thaumaturge. You sign, you obey. You leak, you forfeit all rights to grants, scholarships, or institutional favor. Until a minimal level of mastery is demonstrated, nothing else will be offered."

"But I won't have any scholarships anymore," Fabrisse countered.

"I will grant you a partial stipend," Draeth said, voice measured. "Eight thousand Kohns. If your tuition is fully covered by other means, this will suffice for your living expenses. You will not receive additional grants or scholarships until your mastery under me is acknowledged. Your focus is not to be divided; distractions are a liability."

That meant he had eleven thousand saved up now; almost half of his required tuition. Maybe passing all his practicals would give him grounds to ask for further partial grants.

Fabrisse's fingers flexed around the scroll. "So . . . I'll have to fund everything else myself until I prove myself?"

Draeth's gaze didn't waver. "Yes. How do I know you will not just laze around again?" Then the headmaster turned to face Lorvan. "And you, Mentor Lugano, how is it that a student under your supervision has become so accustomed to leniency? Too often, I find our prodigies allowed to skirt responsibility. You have only seventeen students under your wing. Seventeen. That is scarcely a number to occupy your attention, yet somehow, guidance is neglected."

Only seventeen? Fabrisse thought. Do you know how much time it takes to tutor even one properly? Mentors are stretched thin as it is . . .

Lorvan opened his mouth. "We both agreed he could earn a position as a theoretical researcher after completing the previous cycle of studies. That would have allowed him to—"

"That is no longer sufficient," Draeth interrupted, voice cutting through the room like a chisel. "My student must cast spells. Action is the measure of worth, and I will accept nothing less." Then he turned back to Fabrisse. "Now read your contract."

Fabrisse unfolded the scroll, eyes scanning the tight script. It was a legalistic maze of clauses, curses, and layered bindings, each line a minor test of attention.

"Any questions?" Draeth had already asked when Fabrisse had barely read past the second paragraph.

"Uh . . . Is Miss Aldith atte Mere really your niece?"

"Yes," the Headmaster pinched his nose. "Any contract-related questions?"

Kaldrin stepped forward quietly. He leaned just enough to peer over Fabrisse's shoulder. "Hmm," he murmured, eyes flicking across the wards and runes. "This clause here—'all communication regarding mentorship shall remain sealed until mastery is demonstrated'—that's rather restrictive. Too broad. It could technically prevent you from even consulting on a group assignment, or asking for clarification on technical components outside the Headmaster's direct supervision."

Fabrisse's brow furrowed. "I noticed that too. But it seemed . . . unavoidable."

Kaldrin shook his head slightly. "Not unavoidable. Overly rigid wording is often a test of comprehension as much as obedience."

Fabrisse swallowed, feeling the weight of Kaldrin's words. Should I point this out? he thought, fingers brushing the runes. Or is it a trap to see if I question authority?

He looked up at Draeth, whose eyes were already fixed on him, immovable.

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"I . . . I see the clause," Fabrisse said carefully, keeping his voice neutral. "It might restrict practical questions outside direct supervision."

"Noted," Draeth said finally, flat and absolute. "Your observation is correct, but the wording stands. Comprehension is part of mastery. You will learn to operate within these boundaries."

Kaldrin exhaled, stepping back.

The Headmaster probably doesn't care enough about me to enforce every rigid restriction in this clause, he thought. It's a test only. And even if it isn't . . . I can't live with myself if I don't sign this, and Lorvan's arm goes forever.

Fabrisse folded the scroll along its original creases. Draeth continued, "I do not offer this lightly. The world doesn't reward curiosity—it punishes exposure. Consider this a test. Your discretion, your focus, your obedience: these are as critical as any spell you will learn under me. Fail in this, and no foundation, no artifact, will save you."

Fabrisse signed with a carefully controlled flourish. The scroll snapped shut and vanished into Draeth's sleeve as if swallowed by shadow. He felt the system pulse in his mind.

PRAXIS NODE CALIBRATION SYSTEM – Alert

Directive Updated: NDA Accepted – Mentorship Confidential

Reward: 0 EXP

[SYSTEM NOTE: Institutional privileges restricted until initial mastery achieved.]

A brief nod from Draeth, then silence. Fabrisse exhaled, the weight of the commitment sinking into him. Every future choice had now folded into this single path.

The study door swung shut behind him, and Fabrisse stepped into the muted light of the Lightfold. The pale illumination of the leyfield filtered through the translucent ceiling, casting geometric patterns across the floor. He squinted until his eyes got used to the sudden change in brightness.

On the far side, Aldith atta Mere was leaning casually against the archway with a mischievous grin already in place.

"So?" she asked. "How did it go?"

Words lodged somewhere behind his teeth. He decided to say nothing. He couldn't risk violating any NDA clause three seconds into walking out of the Headmaster's study.

Aldith's grin widened. "Can't say it out loud?"

Fabrisse simply nodded.

She tilted her head. "Then perhaps we can have a natter over messages. So . . . your glyph contact then, handsome? Or are you going to keep playing hard to get?"

Fabrisse's mind scrambled. There's nothing here about personal communications regarding social pleasantries. Nothing at all. But technically—if a message references a magical process or a glyph—it might count as mentorship-related. And if it counts, then—oh, I might be breaching the non-disclosure. Even a joke about a spell could be considered a procedural comment. Best not to speak.

He finally said, in the most neutral tone he could muster, "I am not permitted to comment."

"Because of my uncle?"

"Yes."

"He made you sign a scroll?"

"Yes."

"You can't be serious about my uncle blocking this?"

"Yes."

Aldith huffed, but very quickly composed herself. She tilted her head once more. "Well, if we're talking purely mundane matters, one needn't mention the glyph or the Headmaster at all. Nothing in your precious scroll forbids exchanging a simple contact for, say, tea arrangements or library meet-ups, does it?"

No mention of mentorship, no reference to spells or glyphs . . . strictly mundane. That doesn't breach anything. His mind ticked rapidly. Yes. Then he could exchange contact without technically violating the NDA.

He looked at her cautiously, still maintaining a neutral tone. "If phrased as purely logistical—meeting for tea, or library study sessions—then yes. That is permissible."

Her grin broadened, eyes sparkling. "See? A little creativity, a dash of careful wording . . . and we're golden. So, how about I happen to be near the Central pie shop tonight at nine and you happen to also be near the pie shop tonight at nine?"

"I—"

"Yes or no, magus. Yes or no."

Logic tumbled over itself. Her insistence, that persistent tilt of her head, the spark in her eyes—it was infuriatingly effective. Why is a simple logistical question making my mind seize up?

". . . Very well," he replied before he had a chance to think about it. But what are we even going to do? Casually hanging out near a pie shop is an inefficient use of time. He won't earn any EXP or Kohn from just hanging out.

"Brilliant," Aldith said, clapping her hands softly. "I'll expect you. For now, though, I ought to lead you to your friends. They've likely been wandering around wondering where on earth you've disappeared to. It's already late afternoon, and I imagine they're just about ready to start worrying."

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