Hocus, Pocus, Hypothesis 318

Orion stepped away from his mother and Naerys, leaving the safety of the gilded doors. He descended the concentric rings in total silence, feeling the eyes of some of the most powerful casters in Cyril on him. 

There was enough power in there to have turned the war on its head several times over. He could understand why the Tier Five mages hadn’t been allowed on the field, given the level of response the Iron State would have mounted, but even a dozen more Archmages on the front lines would have made everyone’s lives much easier. 

I have to wonder how many of them truly had such important matters to attend to, how many were mere cowards, and how many stayed away to support Ulysses. I wouldn’t be surprised if the cowards outnumbered the rest by quite a bit. 

The Field in the chamber was claustrophobic, what with at least sixty Tier Four Archmages present, each staking their own claim to it. Yet the pressure emanating from the central podium dwarfed them all. Venerable Archmage Ulysses stood like a monolith in his deep emerald robes, his broad hands resting on the smooth wood of his bone staff. 

Orion stopped at the edge of the central well, where a thin, shifting mist seemed to cling to the stone, though he knew it was even more mana seeping from the Field to answer the unspoken demands of everyone present. 

"I claim the floor to present evidence of high treason," Orion said, his voice echoing through the crystal amphitheater, though it was soon drowned out by gasps. He tapped the side of his adamantine frames, as the Wraithgem pulsed against his sternum, linking his computing to the visual output.

At the First Senator’s nod, a holographic projection flickered to life at the center of the well, displacing the mist.

In its place, the landscape of the Ironwood wastes took shape. The illusion was precise down to the minutest detail, built from raw data stored in the SDGs, because the CC had to be sacrificed to forge the Wraithgem, and he’d only been able to save the most important ‘files’. 

Several Archmages leaned forward on their thrones, watching the figures move within the projection. More importantly, many of them recognized Verner, Ulysses’s apprentice. 

That was good. He’d been afraid the traitor was some sort of secret, but it seemed he was a known face. That would make his life simpler. 

“Some of you probably already know this, but I was part of one of the strike teams the Alliance assembled to push back against the invader,” he began, emphasizing the last word to remind these men that they were still at war. 

“Almost from the beginning of our mission, Verner exhibited behaviors that made him suspicious," Orion explained, pacing slowly around the edge of the projection. He manipulated the data, shifting the scene to a subterranean laboratory where a grotesque Amalgam thrashed as the sustaining liquid was drained. 

"Watch his eyes," Orion commanded. 

The projection zoomed in on Verner, who was not looking at the monster like everyone else, as he should have. He was staring at Orion, seemingly more interested in uncovering the secrets of his magic than in the threat they faced. 

“He was strangely obsessed with my casting methods," Orion continued as the projection shifted to the aftermath of the battle. The Amalgam lay dead, its brain ruined beyond repair, while the remains of a glowing runic matrix glowed at its feet. 

Orion froze the image. He highlighted the glowing runes, enlarging them for the Senate to see. He didn’t have enough data to know what they were meant to do, but to these men, it wasn’t necessary. 

"These are Collegium runes," Orion stated flatly. “I suspect they’re meant to increase the Amalgam’s resilience to outside influences, but it’s advanced stuff, to affect a Tier Four being. Not the sort of thing mere students would get access to and sneak away with. That was what first clued me in that something wasn’t right.” 

Murmurs rippled through the concentric rings. Eyes narrowed as they analyzed the highlighted portions. 

The projection reversed a bit, showing Verner feigning panic and unleashing a sudden blast of force that ruined the runic core before Orion could study it further. 

"He claimed it was a mistake. He got the impression they were dangerous,” Orion said clinically. "He destroyed the evidence linking the Iron State’s abominations to a benefactor within this very city.”

Again, a ripple went through the crowd. Many seemed offended that he’d think any of them would ally with the enemy of all magic, but the evidence was solid. 

The scene shifted one final time. The wastes returned, followed by the rush through the tunnels, and finally the battle against the Mage-Killers in Kethor’s lab. 

The Archmages watched Verner drive a blade into Orion’s back. The audio logs were played carefully to ensure nobody could claim not to have heard. 

"I am the herald of the coming dawn,” the traitor finally said before bringing the whole facility down. 

Orion canceled the visual layer, and the projection dissolved, leaving only the dim light of the Senate. He turned toward the podium. 

"Will anyone in this chamber deny that Verner was the direct apprentice of the Venerable Archmage Ulysses?" Orion asked, his voice carrying to the highest tier. 

Silence reigned. No one spoke.

That was until the accused let out a chuckle, apparently unruffled by the implication. He leaned on his bone staff, shaking his head with an expression of paternal disappointment. 

“You’ve brought us a tragic tale," Ulysses rumbled. "Verner was my pupil. I chose him for his brilliance, but brilliance often borders on madness. The boy snapped under pressure, and the dangers of the wastes only deepened his descent. He hallucinated a grand destiny, a 'coming dawn,' and acted on his delusions. Blaming a master for a student’s sudden insanity is a desperate move that would be beneath even your father, Orion Voidwalker.” 

Several Senators nodded. Given their age, almost all of them had experience with less-than-stellar pupils, some of whom became true disappointments. It was also very convenient.  

This was the precipice. Orion took a slow breath, aware of the risk he was about to take. He tapped his glasses again. 

"The System obscures a person's true nature, hiding their parameters and Classes behind a veil of privacy," he said, addressing the room at large. "Through various experiments, I have built a tool that pierces this veil.”

Shocked gasps erupted from the middle rings. Several Archmages looked at him with renewed interest. Peering into another’s status screen was considered an esoteric power and was definitely not something to be admitted out loud, as it was a serious breach of privacy. 

By admitting he could do it so brazenly, he was putting a target on his back. But it was also necessary. They wouldn’t believe him without it, and the damage to his reputation would make it even more believable, for nobody would admit to this without a reason. 

Ignoring the outrage, as he knew very well that several of these people could do essentially the same thing, if with different methods, he fed the data through the Wraithgem. 

Two distinct status screens materialized in the air above the mist. 

"On the left, the false projection Verner presented to the world," Orion explained, pointing to the standard [Arcane Scholar] Class and the fabricated stats. "On the right, the true screen, captured the moment his disguise faltered.”

Verner Inutz — Devout Apprentice 

Class: [Apprentice of the Roaring Sun] [A-rank] 

Level: 157 

Mind: 1,291 

Attunement: 1,173 

Body: 212

Traits: [Mana Manipulation] [A-rank]; [Mana Weaving] [A-rank]; [Enchantment Mastery] [A-rank]; [Researcher’s Gain] [A-rank]; [Warmth of the Roaring Sun] [A-rank]; [Loyalty] [A-rank]

“As you can clearly see, he bore a unique Class, granted only through a pact with a higher entity," Orion declared. “More importantly, there is only one man ever called the Roaring Sun, one man that could have allowed an apprentice to take on his name as his own Class. We all know that one’s Class is the very basis of who they are, and the more specific it is, the more central that concept is.” 

"A forgery!" an Archmage shouted from the third ring. "The boy claims to have access to the System itself. It is a trick!” 

Ulysses spread his hands in a placating gesture to the room. "You see the lengths they go to. Illusions layered upon illusions. Heretical claims to read the unreadable. All to protect a Speaker who has abandoned us.” 

But Orion had been waiting for such an accusation. He couldn’t win the political war, so he turned away from the podium and looked at one throne in the inner circle. 

"Words are easily twisted," he said, locking eyes with Archmage Mallon. "Data can be accused of manipulation. I offer the Founder a path to certainty.”

Lowering his mental defenses was not an easy choice. In fact, he despised it, especially since he’d rarely encountered text on this obscure branch of magic and had only cobbled together some protections from his own speculations, unable to properly prove his theories without someone who could safely attack his mind. 

Even so, he relaxed his rigid control over his mind, hoping it would leave only the memories he wanted exposed and vulnerable. 

"I invite Archmage Mallon into my mind," he said, sending a fresh wave of murmurs through the Senate. "Examine the memory yourself. Trace what I showed you back to the moment of capture. See the truth of my words and the depth of the betrayal through my own eyes.” 

He had no doubt that once inside his mind, the ancient mage could sift through every secret, every theory, every quiet moment of his life, or of the previous one. He could unravel Orion’s consciousness with a stray thought and discover his deepest, darkest secrets. But to get him on his side, it was necessary, and only Mallon could stand up to Ulysses.  

The man who forged the Magocracy rose from his chair, and the fragile aura of the retiree shed like dead skin. He descended the crystal steps, his robe whispering against the stone in perfect silence as all watched. He stopped before Orion, his eyes sharp and fathomless. 

"You risk much, boy," he said quietly. 

“For the truth to come out, I’ll do this and much more,” Orion replied, holding the old man's gaze.

With a nod, Mallon reached out and pressed a weathered finger to his forehead.

All of a sudden, Orion felt a vast, freezing ocean press against his consciousness. It was an ancient, disciplined power, devoid of malice yet overwhelming in its sheer scale. 

He hesitated for a moment before he gave in, letting go of the last of his resistance, and even so, Mallon did not pillage. He moved with surgical precision, slipping past Orion’s surface thoughts and plunging into the categorized memory banks of the northern wastes. 

For a few seconds, the Senate chamber ceased to exist for Orion. He was back in the lab, feeling the blade pierce his flesh and seeing the true status screen burn into his vision. Mallon stood beside him in the memory, hearing the words binding Verner to his master.

Once the memory ended, Mallon withdrew his finger.

With it, the vast ocean receded, leaving Orion gasping for breath, his knees trembling from the sudden release of pressure. 

Mallon turned to face the Senate. He looked at Ulysses, whose face was carved from granite.  

"The boy's artifact functions exactly as he claims," Mallon pronounced, his voice ringing with finality. "The memory is uncorrupted, and the status screen is genuine. Venerable Archmage Ulysses’ apprentice was truthful when he said he was acting in his master’s stead.” 

The chamber erupted. 

Dozens of Archmages surged to their feet. Set roared in outrage at the betrayal, his face pale with fury. The traditionalists, who had backed Ulysses out of fear of the encroaching war, hurled curses. 

Ulysses slammed the base of his bone staff against the podium. The crack sounded like thunder, silencing the shouts. 

"This changes nothing," he bellowed, his coercive power forcing several mages back into their seats. He swept his gaze across the concentric rings, mana flaring as he tried to wrest control of the narrative through sheer force of will. 

"Antares is still failing us!" He roared, pointing a thick finger at the upper tiers. "He squanders our resources on fruitless campaigns while the true threat gathers! I made a pact to buy us time. I sacrificed a pawn to eliminate a distraction and position the Magocracy for survival. You know I am right. We need strength, not a scholar playing at war. I call for the vote to proceed.” 

"You have no authority to call for anything," First Senator Yztet hissed. "A Senator accused of high treason, as validated by the Founder, forfeits his right to the floor," he declared, cutting through Ulysses’s coercive magic. He brought the gavel down on his block. 

Crack.

“The session is suspended. Wardens, take Archmage Ulysses into custody.” 

“Foolish children," Ulysses whispered, though everyone heard him. “To dare think your rules can govern the gods.” 

He gripped his staff with both hands and drove it downward, burying the base deep into the stone, and the whole chamber began to rumble.