Ilsa was recounting the events in detail.

  Sael watched her from his seat near the Duke. Her voice carried well through the Great Hall, steady and clear as she described the necro-dragon, the assassination attempt, Robin's confession, the correspondence parchment. She'd organized her testimony methodically, building the case piece by piece in a way that would be difficult to dismiss or interrupt.

  He already knew all of it, of course. He'd been there for most of it. Could probably recite her testimony better than she could, if asked.

  Which meant he didn't need to give her his full attention.

  His gaze drifted across the assembled crowd. Professors seated on the right side of the hall, members of house Eryndor on the left. All of them quiet now after Richter's intervention earlier. Some looked furious. Others looked scared. A few seemed genuinely curious about what Ilsa was saying, leaning forward slightly to catch every word.

  Several of them had been remarkably vocal before being forced to sit down.

  That bothered Sael.

  He shifted his weight slightly, adjusting his position on the bench. The movement let him get a better angle on a man called Professor Markus, who'd been standing on furniture earlier, shouting about baseless accusations and slander until Richter made him sit.

  The defense itself wasn't the problem. Loyalty to colleagues was natural enough. Admirable, even, in the right circumstances.

  But the intensity of it troubled him. The immediate dismissal of evidence they hadn't even examined yet. The way certain individuals had leapt to Aldric's defense before anyone had finished speaking, before the facts were fully laid out, before there was any reasonable basis for such certainty.

  That felt less like loyalty and more like something else.

  Sael had been hoping his suspicions about Corruption were wrong. It would be so much simpler if this was just a case of a professor with delusions of grandeur hiring incompetent assassins for petty political reasons. Unpleasant, certainly. Criminal, absolutely. But manageable and containable. The sort of problem that could be resolved through normal legal channels without requiring anything more dramatic.

  But if Aldric was involved with Corruption, then he wouldn't be working alone.

  Sael let his gaze drift across faces without focusing too intently on any one person. Just observing. The way you might watch a crowd at a market, taking in details without obviously staring.

  He... would probably have to talk again to the crowd. Explain exactly what he'd be doing. These people would need to understand why he was about to examine them all for Corruption, and it seemed like the polite thing to do.

  The problem was he hadn't planned on making a speech.

  Sael leaned slightly toward the person sitting to his left. A middle-aged scholar in academy robes, currently watching Ilsa's testimony with rapt attention.

  "Excuse me," Sael said quietly.

  The scholar startled, turning to look at him with wide eyes.

  "Do you have pen and paper I could borrow?"

  The scholar blinked. Looked at Sael like he wasn't quite sure he'd heard correctly. Then glanced down at the satchel by his feet.

  "I... yes. Of course."

  He fumbled with the satchel, producing a leather-bound notebook and a fountain pen. Handed them over with slightly trembling fingers.

  "Thank you," Sael said.

  The scholar nodded mutely and turned back to watch Ilsa, though he kept glancing at Sael from the corner of his eye.

  Sael opened the notebook to a blank page and settled it on his lap.

  Right. What did he need to say?

  He should probably introduce what Corruption was. Most people here would only know it from history books. Then explain why he was checking for it. Then explain the process itself so they wouldn't panic when he started examining them.

  And he should probably mention he didn't actually think there was Corruption here. That he was just being thorough and cautious. So they wouldn't worry too much.

  Though honestly, he was the one who was anxious about this.

  Sael started writing.

  Corruption - what is it?

  He paused, tapping the pen against the paper. How to explain this simply?

  Source of power. Bypass normal limitations. Tempting. Cost is everything you are.

  That was probably too brief. He added more:

  Early stages - physical marks. Dark veins on hands, neck. Later stages - internal. Harder to detect.

  Detection method - spell I designed. Non-invasive. Brief touch. 30 seconds per person.

  Ilsa's voice continued in the background. "—the correspondence clearly indicates premeditation. Professor Eryndor knew we would be arriving in Orlys—"

  Sael glanced up briefly, then back down at his notes.

  Important: I don't think there's Corruption here. Just being thorough. Need to be certain.

  He crossed that out. It sounded too casual. Rewrote it:

  Likely no Corruption present. But given circumstances, must verify. Cannot take risks.

  Hmm, better.

  Process: Start with professors. Then Eryndor family. Then staff and guards. Everyone checked. No exceptions.

  He studied what he'd written. It seemed... adequate. Organized enough that he could read from it without stumbling. Though the idea of standing up in front of all these people and reading from notes felt somewhat embarrassing.

  Well. It would be more embarrassing to stand up there and ramble.

  Young Ilsa eventually finished her testimony, perhaps too soon.

  "—and that concludes my report of events leading to this assembly. I submit the correspondence parchment as primary evidence, along with the testimony of Robin, who is present and available for questioning."

  She sat down and the hall was silent for a moment.

  Then Richter stood. "Thank you, daughter. That was thorough and well-presented."

  He turned to address the assembly, and Sael had the distinct impression the Duke was about to do something.

  "Now that you have all been briefed," Richter said, "I believe Sir Sael has something he wishes to say?"

  All eyes turned toward Sael.

  He felt the dampness on his fingertips where they gripped the notebook. A slight sweat. Nothing visible, he hoped.

  Sael stood, bringing the notebook with him. He'd considered tearing out just the page with his notes, but that would have been inconsiderate to the gentleman who'd lent it to him. He'd erase the pen marks later and return it properly.

  He began walking toward the center of the hall. His boots echoed on stone. The sound seemed louder than it should have been in the silence.

  Every eye followed him.

  Sael was acutely aware of his gait. Was he walking too quickly? Too slowly? He tried to maintain a steady pace, tried not to think about how his stride might look to all these people watching him. The problem with being conscious of walking was that it made walking feel unnatural. Like you'd forgotten how to do something you'd done your entire life.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  He reached the open space in front of the podium and turned to face the assembly.

  The notebook felt heavier than it should have in his hands.

  ...Actually, now that he was standing here, he wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to begin. The opening of a speech generally set the tone for the rest of it, and he wanted to set the tone right.

  "I..." Sael said, looking down at his notes rather than at the sea of faces. He glanced at what he'd written. Right. Start by asking them what they knew. "I have a question for all of you," His voice carried easily through the vaulted space.

  He started walking along the center aisle, one hand clasped behind his back to look more assertive.

  Hmm... now that he thought about it, he had no reason for walking away from where he'd been sitting. He could have just stood, and talked. That would have looked more purposeful. Instead he'd walked to the center, stopped, announced he had a question, and now he was walking again. It seemed somewhat theatrical. Possibly unserious.

  Did he look unserious?

  He hoped not. This was supposed to be an important moment. A grave moment, even.

  Well, he'd already started walking. Stopping now would definitely make him look unserious. Best to just commit to it.

  "What do you know about Corruption?"

  Someone coughed and a few people shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

  Sael continued walking, still not entirely sure if this pacing thing was working or if he just looked like a man taking a stroll. "I'm genuinely curious. It's been four hundred years since the Corrupted One fell. How much has survived in the historical record? How much do they teach in academies these days about what it actually was?"

  He stopped near one of the younger professors. A man in his thirties, clean-shaven, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

  "You," Sael said. "What do you know about it?"

  It felt better to pull others into this, if only because it took the attention off him for a moment. Sael felt a quiet satisfaction at how quickly he was adapting his tactics. Well played. Well played indeed.

  The professor swallowed. "I... the histories say it was a form of dark magic. Forbidden. The Corrupted One used it to raise armies, to twist living things into monsters."

  "Accurate, as far as it goes." Sael resumed walking, getting more confident. "Anyone else? What did the Corrupted generals look like? How did they gain their power?"

  An older professor spoke up hesitantly. One of the women from earlier. "They were... the accounts describe them as changed. Physically altered. Stronger, faster. Some had abilities that shouldn't have been possible. One of them could regenerate from any injury. Another could phase through solid matter."

  "Yes. Good. What else?"

  "They had dark veins," someone volunteered. A male voice from the Eryndor section. "Visible under their skin. It was one way to identify them."

  "Early stages only," Sael said. "The veins faded as the Corruption integrated more fully. By the time someone reached general-level power, the physical marks were mostly internal."

  He'd reached the front of the hall again. Turned to face them all.

  "The Corruption wasn't just twisted magic. It was a source of power. A way to bypass the normal limitations of growth and advancement. You could gain strength without earning it, abilities without training for them, levels without the work that levels normally required."

  His voice was calm, but there was weight behind every word.

  "It was tempting. Incredibly tempting. Especially to people who felt powerless, or overlooked, or like they'd hit a ceiling they couldn't break through on their own."

  Sael's gaze swept across the assembly.

  "The Corrupted One had thousands of followers during the wars. People who looked at the promise of easy power and decided the cost didn't matter, or convinced themselves the cost could be managed. That they'd be different. That they could control it instead of letting it control them."

  He paused.

  "They were wrong. Every single one of them."

  The hall was absolutely silent now.

  "Corruption consumes. That's what it does. It offers power, yes. Real power. But the price is everything you are. Your body changes. Your mind changes. Eventually, you're not yourself anymore. You're just a vessel. A tool. Something the Corruption uses to spread itself further."

  He could see fear settling into people's faces now. The dawning understanding of what he was actually saying.

  "I spent fifteen years fighting it. Fifteen years hunting the Corrupted One and his generals across the world. I watched what it did to people. Good people, some of them. People who'd made one bad choice and then couldn't find their way back."

  His expression hardened slightly.

  "And at the end of those fifteen years, we killed him. Destroyed every trace of Corruption we could find. Purged it from the world."

  The silence stretched.

  A few people were looking at him strangely now. Like they weren't quite sure what to make of what they were hearing. There was still doubt about his identity, it seemed. But explaining would take too long, and he was finally getting to the point.

  Better to keep talking.

  "Or so we thought."

  A ripple went through the crowd.

  "Professor Aldric's actions suggest otherwise. The hiring of assassins. The attempt on a Duke's daughter. The correspondence. These are not the actions of a man with nothing to hide."

  He started walking again, slower this time.

  "So I'm going to do something very simple. I'm going to use a spell. A detection spell I designed specifically to identify Corrupted energy. And I'm going to cast it on each and every person in this room."

  There was an immediate uproar. Voices rose in protest, professors stood, and several Eryndors were shouting objections before they'd even fully processed what he'd said.

  "Sit. Down."

  Richter's voice cut through the noise.

  The Duke was on his feet, hand on his sword hilt, expression absolutely glacial.

  "You will sit down. You will be silent. And you will cooperate with this examination. Anyone who refuses will be detained for questioning about why they felt the need to refuse."

  Headmaster Koleen rose as well. His voice was rough with age and exhaustion.

  “I concur. This is no jest. Should there exist even the faintest possibility that it has returned to this world, we shall employ every means at our disposal to ascertain the truth of the matter. And let it be understood: any who choose to hinder this effort will answer to me directly.”

  The protests died.

  Slowly, reluctantly, people settled back into their seats.

  Sael nodded his thanks to both men.

  "This won't hurt. The spell is non-invasive. You won't feel anything except a brief touch. It will take perhaps thirty seconds per person."

  He paused, considering his next words carefully.

  "We'll start with the professors. Then the Eryndor family members. Then the staff and guards. Everyone gets checked. No exceptions."

  He walked toward the first row of professors.

  The tension in the room had shifted from uncomfortable to suffocating. Every eye was on him. Some people were breathing too fast. Others had gone very still, like they thought not moving would make them invisible.

  Sael stopped in front of the first professor. A woman, middle-aged, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had gone white.

  "Your name?" Sael asked. He wasn't entirely sure why he’d asked; the question served no purpose, yet it seemed to soften the atmosphere.

  "P-Professor Mirana Tellis. I teach water related magic. Evocation, mostly. Some healing applications."

  "Thank you, Professor Tellis."

  Sael raised his hand slowly, giving her time to see it coming. Then he placed it gently on her shoulder.

  "[Analyze]."

  The spell matrix formed in his mind. This one he'd designed himself, tailored specifically for detecting Corruption energy. It worked by examining the fundamental structure of a person's mana, looking for the particular resonance that Corruption left behind. The subtle wrongness that marked contaminated power.

  The spell flowed through Professor Tellis in seconds.

  Clean.

  Completely clean. Her mana was normal, healthy, untainted.

  Sael lowered his hand. "You're fine. Next."

  Professor Tellis let out a breath and slumped slightly in her seat.

  Sael moved to the next professor. An older man with a gray beard.

  "Professor Henrik Stonewall. Transmutation. Been teaching here forty-three years."

  "Thank you."

  Hand on shoulder. "[Analyze]."

  Clean.

  "Next."

  Third professor. Younger, nervous, fidgeting.

  "Professor Marcus Bellview. I teach theoretical applications of spatial magic. I've never—I would never—"

  "I believe you."

  Hand on shoulder. "[Analyze]."

  Clean.

  The pattern continued.

  One by one, Sael worked his way through the professors. Each examination took less than a minute. Each result came back the same.

  Clean. Clean. Clean.

  The tension was building anyway, though. Not because anyone was showing signs of Corruption, but because the very act of checking was forcing everyone to confront the possibility. Making them think about what it would mean if someone did test positive.

  Sael reached someone named Dean Halwick. He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  "May I?"

  "I—yes. Of course. I have nothing to hide."

  Hand on shoulder. "[Analyze]."

  ...Clean.

  Sael was about to move on when something made him pause.

  A flicker. Not in Halwick—the man was clean. But somewhere nearby. Something in the air that felt off.

  He turned his head slightly, scanning the nearby professors.

  They all looked nervous, which was understandable. But one of them...

  A man perhaps in his forties, unremarkable appearance, sitting three seats down from Halwick.

  His hands were trembling slightly. There was sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool temperature in the hall.

  Sael's eyes narrowed.

  He moved toward the man.

  "Hello. What is your name?"

  The professor's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

  "I—Professor Edmund Carth. I teach—"

  Sael raised his hand slowly, preparing to place it on the man's shoulder.

  Professor Carth's eyes went wide. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze; the professor staring at Sael's approaching hand, the assembly watching in tense silence.

  Then Carth moved.

  "No!"

  The professor bolted backward, his chair clattering to the stone floor behind him. The sound echoed through the suddenly electric atmosphere of the hall. Gasps rippled through the assembly. Someone behind Sael stood abruptly, their bench scraping against stone.

  Sael's pulse quickened as he watched Carth stumble toward the aisle. He'd been hoping he was wrong. Praying, even, though he wasn't much for prayer.

  The professor was wild-eyed now, wild-eyed and backing away, desperate to put distance between himself and Sael. Other professors scrambled out of his way, their previous complaints about invasion of privacy suddenly forgotten.

  Carth turned and ran.

  Sael watched him go, his feet seemingly rooted to the spot. The professor was already nearly at the door, his robes billowing behind him as he fled. Maybe this wasn't what Sael thought. Maybe the man was just terrified, innocent, panicking for no reason beyond fear itself.

  But no. Sael knew better.

  [Blink].

  In the space of a heartbeat, Sael reappeared directly behind the fleeing professor, just as Carth's hand reached for the door handle. Gasps erupted throughout the hall. Someone screamed. The Eryndor delegation was on their feet now, chairs scraping, hands reaching for weapons they didn't have.

  Sael's hand closed on Carth's shoulder before the professor could even process what had happened. His fingers gripped fabric and flesh.

  Carth spun around to face him, stumbling backward even as Sael held him in place. The panic in his eyes had transformed into something else now. Something cornered and dangerous.

  "I SAID NO!"

  Mana erupted from the professor's hand, coalescing into something sharp and violent that was already hurtling toward Sael's face before anyone in the assembly could even draw breath to scream.

  This was, by all evidence, not a good sign.