MY MENTOR CAN HEAR MY THOUGHTS

Chapter 5: The Best Lies Sound Noble

“Elias!”

Nia dropped to her knees beside him and lifted his head onto her lap.

His robe was torn. Blood stained his sleeves. His face had gone pale, his breathing shallow, his fingers trembling with almost painful precision.

For one terrible heartbeat, fear swallowed every suspicion she had.

“Stay with me,” she whispered. “This is my fault. I broke the control panel. I should never have left you in there.”

Then his thoughts reached her.

Excellent. Perfect amount of blood. Not too much. Tragic but handsome.

Nia went still.

Elias opened his eyes weakly.

“Master,” he whispered. “Am I... still alive?”

My acting is flawless. Truly, history has lost a great stage performer.

Nia’s hand tightened beneath his head.

“Yes,” she said through her teeth. “You are alive. Very alive.”

He gave her a faint smile. “Good. Then I can continue studying under you. I did not want to leave your side.”

Several rescue mages turned away, visibly moved.

Nia nearly was too.

Then Elias thought, That sounded beautiful. If I keep this up, I might negotiate two weeks of rest.

Nia’s expression flattened.

A mage knelt nearby. “Archmage Frostvale, your apprentice is courageous. We questioned several monsters. They confirmed a fight broke out among them, and young Vane survived by luck.”

Luck, Elias thought. And a silence spell on every mouth with inconvenient memories.

Nia smiled at the mage.

“Thank you.”

Her smile did not reach her eyes.

The mage continued, “A visiting healer from the chapel could examine him. She is very skilled.”

Elias’s eyes brightened.

Nia noticed.

He dimmed them at once.

“If it helps me recover faster,” Elias said weakly, “I would accept. Only so I can return to my studies.”

The rescue mages looked close to tears.

“Such dedication,” one whispered.

Nia wanted to scream.

Instead, she stroked Elias’s hair once with deceptive gentleness.

“My poor apprentice,” she said.

Elias relaxed.

Good. Sympathy secured.

“Once you recover,” Nia continued, “we will increase your training to twenty-three hours per day. You may use the remaining hour for meals, sleep, and reflecting on your dedication.”

Elias’s face froze.

The mages gasped in admiration.

“How strict,” one said, “but how inspiring.”

Elias stared up at Nia.

Monster.

Nia smiled.

Later, after the monsters had been restrained and the artificers had declared the control system a smoking disaster, Nia returned to her tower with Elias walking beside her.

He had recovered with suspicious speed once he realized sympathy would not reduce homework.

“Master,” he said, “perhaps twenty-three hours is excessive.”

“You said you wanted to study.”

“Spiritually.”

“Then your spirit can hold a pen.”

He looked wounded.

Nia felt almost cheerful.

That evening, she opened her investigation notebook.

Elias can subdue high-rank monsters without visible spellcasting.

Elias is capable of large-scale coercive silence magic.

Elias is an exceptional liar.

Elias responds poorly to increased homework. Useful leverage.

She paused, then added another line.

Do not let him near pretty healers unsupervised. He becomes suspiciously motivated.

Downstairs, Elias sneezed and looked toward the ceiling.

Why do I feel accused?

Nia dipped her pen again.

Because you are guilty, she wrote, though only in her head.

For two days, Wintervale believed Elias Vane had survived the trial grounds by miracle.

The story spread quickly.

A malfunction had released high-rank monsters. Young Elias, newly promoted to Tier Two, had endured long enough for rescue. The beasts had turned on one another. The apprentice had been found bloodied, pale, and somehow alive.

It was a perfect heroic rumor.

Elias hated it.

Heroic rumors attract attention, he thought, lying on a couch in the healing hall while a young chapel healer adjusted a bandage he did not need. Attention attracts questions. Questions attract paperwork. Paperwork ruins lives.

“Does that hurt?” the healer asked.

“Terribly,” Elias said with a brave smile.

Not at all. But she has warm hands.

The infirmary door slammed open.

Nia stood there with narrowed eyes.

Elias sat up. “Master.”

“Recovered?”

“Almost. The healer says rest is important.”

The healer nodded. “He suffered significant shock.”

Emotional shock, Elias thought. From homework.

Nia’s smile sharpened. “Then I will personally ensure he rests at the tower.”

Elias’s soul seemed to leave his body for one silent second.

Nia dragged him away before he could look mournful enough to gain support.

On the road back, he attempted dignity.

“Master, people are saying strange things about the trial.”

“They are saying you were brave.”

“A grave misunderstanding.”

“You dislike praise?”

“I dislike inaccurate praise.”

I dislike praise that makes people watch me.

Nia heard the second part and slowed.

There it was again.

Not arrogance.

Not laziness.

Caution.

Real caution.

For all his lies, Elias feared being noticed.

Not by students.

Not by Archons.

By something worse.

“Elias,” she said, “why do you hate attention so much?”

He gave her a practiced smile. “A modest apprentice should remain humble.”

Modesty has nothing to do with it. Once the gods learn a field has grown ripe, they bring the sickle.

Nia’s fingers tightened around her sleeve.

“I see.”

“Do you?”

His tone was light.

His thoughts were not.

No, Master. I hope you never do.

For once, Nia had no retort.

That night, she sat with her notebook and wrote more slowly than usual.

Elias fears divine notice.

His laziness may be strategic concealment rather than true indolence.

He lies constantly, but not always for selfish reasons.

She frowned at the last line.

It made him sound sympathetic.

That was dangerous.

She crossed out sympathetic and wrote infuriating.

Then someone knocked.

A messenger bowed in the doorway. “Archmage Frostvale. First Archon Andrew requests your presence at the round council tomorrow. The ancient elven manuscripts will be discussed.”

Nia went very still.

“The manuscripts?”

“Yes. Each Archon is expected to report progress.”

Progress.

Her stomach dropped.

Three months earlier, Andrew had distributed copies of newly discovered elven texts from the ruins of the ancient royal court.

Nia had brought hers home.

Then she had used it to stabilize a wobbly table.

In the room below, Elias yawned.

The system chimed.

[Idle Ascension System]

You avoided responsibility for forty-eight hours.

Mana +12.

Nia looked toward the floor.

Perhaps, she thought, a hidden ancient monster who knew dead languages might finally prove useful.