The silence lingered far too long.
Not the awkward, someone-said-something-weird silence. This was heavier. Strategic. Calculated.
Alex finally broke it with a deep sigh, the kind that tried to sneak past his ribs without being noticed.
"Alright," he said, voice low but steady. "We're bringing them in. Marin, Fenna, Lyria. They have skills. Grit. Perspective. What they don't have is trust. Not in us, not in anyone from the Academy. And certainly not in people with status like ours."
Jamie leaned forward. "So we don't lead with handshakes and sunshine."
"Exactly," Alex replied. "We need a plan that gives them space to lower their guard. Not pity. Not a grand offer. Just enough reason to stay curious."
Aera nodded slowly. "So what's the first move?"
"Information," Alex said. "We start with where they are, what they're doing, and who's watching them. Because someone is. We're not the only ones keeping tabs."
"I can handle logistics and known movements," Marell offered. "Clinic placements, town records, anything not buried under five layers of bureaucratic shame."
"And I'll work on soft approach points," Rahul added, already flipping open a compact comm-scroll. "Subtle contact. No mention of recruitment yet. Just... breadcrumbs."
"They won't trust a messenger from the Academy," Pallen pointed out. "They might not trust any of us."
"They don't have to," Alex said. "But we can show them a better option. A future that doesn't smell like exile. One they can step toward without realizing they're already walking with us."
Orin raised an eyebrow. "That's manipulative."
"That's recruitment," Aera countered.
"We also need to be clear on the enemies we'll make doing this," Jenkins said. "Bringing them in makes a statement. That we don't care about legacy politics or institutional disgrace."
"The medica guild won't like it," Rahul added. "Neither will the Academy's ethics board. A lot of reputations were protected by letting those girls fall. We start poking that narrative and we poke some very entitled bears."
Alex nodded. "Which is why we do this carefully. No Academy banners. No official documentation until they're ready."
"And the healer they're with now?" Aera asked. "That unknown clinic master who took them in?"
"A ghost with a license," Jamie muttered. "No records. No guild history. But he's powerful—and respected enough locally to make people leave them alone."
"Which means," Alex said, "he's protected them at cost. Whatever he's doing to keep them working, it's not for profit. And he's already endured pressure to drop them."
"So we can't be seen as interfering," Marell said. "If we come off like we're trying to steal them away, we'll lose the girls and make an enemy out of someone who clearly knows how to vanish paperwork."
"So we move in stages," Aera summarized. "Step one: intelligence. Step two: local context. Step three: controlled, anonymous outreach."
"And step four?" Jenkins asked.
Alex gave a slight smile. "Step four: let them choose us."
—✦—
The discussion continued for another twenty minutes, cycling into planning and logistics. By the end of it, a short schedule was inked on the central board.
Initial Outreach Targets – Day One:
Riven Tol – Diplomatic candidate and symphonic caster
Vinya Relan – Enchantments and array apprentice
Elsha Marr – Alchemist
Brix Vandro – Spirit-aligned technomancer
"Start with Riven," Alex instructed. "He's the most publicly present, but also the most nuanced. If we botch that, the rest of them won't matter."
Everyone nodded.
—✦—
The Next Morning – Arcane Public Training Center, East Courtyard, Practice Hall
Riven Tol was not what anyone expected.
He stood in the open courtyard, arms outstretched like a conductor commanding an invisible orchestra. Around him, floating sigils shimmered in harmonic sequence. The entire airspace above the courtyard thrummed—not loud, not overwhelming, but resonant. Peaceful. Controlled.
Alex watched quietly from the upper railing as Riven completed a final gesture, and the sound field collapsed in on itself like a sigh. Students around him blinked, stunned and calm.
"He just defused an argument," Davor whispered beside him, mildly impressed.
"Without speaking."
"Without trying."
Riven turned to his small group of trainees, offering only a faint nod before walking away like nothing had happened.
"Yeah," Alex said quietly. "Let's not screw this up."
—✦—
Alex and Davor caught up with Riven near the colonnade just beyond the courtyard, where the light shifted more easily between warm and watchful. Riven was already unbinding his gloves with one hand, attention clearly drifting elsewhere.
"Riven Tol," Alex said, polite but direct.
Riven turned, cool-eyed but not unkind. "If this is another recruitment pitch, I'm going to pretend I don't hear it."
Alex blinked. "That obvious, huh?"
"I've had seven guild invitations in the last three days. Four diplomatic offices. Two lecture circuit proposals. One mysterious anonymous card with no ink and a very suspicious flower."
"Okay, well, we don't have a flower. Yet," Davor offered dryly.
Riven gave him the smallest smile before looking back at Alex more closely.
"You're younger than I expected. Too polished."
"Thanks, I think."
Riven narrowed his eyes, taking a second, more deliberate look. Then the corner of his mouth twitched. "You're the royal one. The... what do they call you? The blessed anomaly?"
Alex didn't blink. "It changes depending on how nervous people are."
"Right," Riven said, nodding faintly. "The one marked by prophecy. Blessed and doomed. Half the branches at the Academy want you on paper, and the other half are terrified if you sneeze near their divination equipment."
"I try not to sneeze at all in public anymore. It's become a whole... thing."
There was a pause. Riven studied him again, and something gentler passed across his expression—curiosity, perhaps. Or restraint.
"Still not interested," Riven said, tone even. "But I'll admit... you made this more interesting than the last seven."
"Not asking for a signature," Alex replied. "Just a conversation. No strings. No commitments."
Riven turned away again, tugging his gloves on one finger at a time. "Then don't make it sound like an offer. Make it sound like something I'd regret walking away from."
Alex didn't answer at first. He let the quiet hang for just long enough to matter.
Then, calmly, he said, "I'm not trying to build a grand vision. Not yet. I'm not gathering people to found a utopia or restore some forgotten order."
Riven raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself.
"My goal right now," Alex continued, his voice steady and flat, "is to be powerful enough that no one can stop me. That's it. If I want to ride a fire dragon through the city sky, it should happen without anyone daring to raise a complaint. If I want a lost artifact from the Seventh Depths, I don't want to negotiate. I want results."
Riven blinked once. "So, ambition with a casual god complex."
"More like freedom that doesn't ask for permission. And to get there, we need infrastructure. Reach. Protection. A business empire that operates quietly enough to go unnoticed, but strong enough to move anything. From politics to people."
He met Riven's gaze directly. "You've built something already. Your presence controls a room. Your voice shifts moods. You can move minds without touching egos. That's influence. The kind I want beside me—not beneath."
For a moment, Riven said nothing. He just studied Alex like he was a riddle no one had the nerve to write down.
"And you think this empire of yours starts with a couple of students and a dream?"
"No. It starts with one person who hears the pitch and doesn't laugh."
The wind caught a curl of sound from a nearby sigil board—soft, rhythmic, harmonic. Like a memory echoing through something bigger.
Riven slipped his gloves back on.
"I'm not laughing," he said finally.