“I—I can understand that,” Ned stammered, obviously taken aback at their disapproval. He often kept Adrissu updated as to the developments and general goings-on of the secondary school, and never before had Adrissu reacted so negatively to something Ned presented to him. Alana, though she was no longer officially associated with the academy, was still privy to these meetings, since they did often involve student theories and advancements using her steam engines. “But, well, there are practical applications for this as well, of course—hunting and self-protection and all that. I mean, something like this, it could pierce the scales of a dragon, even. And gods know, a reliable weapon against something like that could be world-changing. Imagine if old Zamnes wakes up one day, if just a handful of people in the city have a crossbow like this—whatever hold he might have over Polimnos would be gone in an instant, don’t you think?”
Alana sighed, shrugging in begrudging acceptance of his point, but Adrissu’s scowl only deepened. An icy shiver crept up his spine; such a weaponcouldbecome a genuine threat to all dragons, so he could not let it be developed right under his nose—with resources he’d paid for.
“I still don’t approve of this being associated with the Academy,” he snapped, shaking his head. “We are not an institution of war.”
“What do you mean? The magical defense track with the mercenary guild was one of the first tracks the school had,” Ned protested.
“That wasn’t the same,” Adrissu insisted, though he supposed it was quite similar. “And besides, the mercenary’s guild has been disbanded for over a century. There is no need for something like this, not anymore.”
Ned scowled, looking away, but he remained silent. Adrissu knew he cared too much about staying in his good graces to go against him, no matter what his true opinion was. After a moment, the half-elf added in a quieter voice,
“It’s his senior thesis project, headmaster. I don’t think it would be fair to tell him to start on something entirely new now.”
Adrissu sighed, frowning down at the schematics once again, and considered. It was still early enough in the term that the student could reasonably propose a new thesis without too much difficulty, he thought; but maybe it would be best to allow it this once, as a favor to Ned, one which he could hold over the other man as needed.
“What’s this student’s name?” he asked, and Ned sighed.
“Granville Kipp.”
“A human, then?”
“Yes.”
Adrissu sighed, then pushed the diagrams back across the table to Ned. “If this is his senior thesis, then I will allow him to complete his project. But no other students may pursue a project like this, and we will not use Academy funds to further any sort of research like this starting next year. Ned.”
He kept his grip on the diagrams as Ned reached for them, and the half-elf raised his head when Adrissu said his name, looking intimidated.
“Are there any other students conducting research like this?” Adrissu asked firmly, and for a long moment, Ned was silent.
“Not to this extent, no,” he finally answered, cowed. “But some were considering something similar. I’ll make it clear to them that the academy won’t allow it, going forward.”
“Please do,” Adrissu said, letting him take back the papers and sketches. “Alana, did you have anything to add?”
When he looked back over at the human, she seemed conflicted, frowning as her gaze flickered between the two of them.
“Ned, I’m sorry to put you in this position,” she finally said. “I know the students are just eager to take advantage of new technology however they can. But I think Headmaster Adrissu’s compromise is fair. Let Mr. Kipp finish out his thesis, since there was no rule in place before this; but going forward, we can’t allow weapons to be submitted this way. The Academy’s reputation aside, it just seems too dangerous to allow.”
“I understand, I understand,” Ned sighed, as he gathered up the various papers that were strewn about the long meeting table where they sat, before carefully placing them back in the thick portfolio that he’d brought with all the other projects and reports he’d presented. “I suppose I should have considered this before approving his thesis.”
“It’s fine now,” Adrissu replied, but with the way both Ned and Alana glanced at him when he said it, he suspected he sounded as unsettled as he felt. “Was there anything else for today?”
Ned was silent for a long moment, looking pensively down at his portfolio.
“No,” he finally said. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with us, Alana. I know you’re busier than ever now.”
Alana shot him a weary smile. “It’s no problem, Ned. Good to see you.”
Ned left after exchanging polite goodbyes, leaving Alana and Adrissu alone in the meeting room.
“A steam-powered crossbow, of all things,” she muttered when he was gone, looking over at Adrissu. “I guess I really shouldn’t have been surprised, but gods, why would he think that was a good idea?”
Adrissu shook his head, unable to formulate an answer. Already he was considering ways he could get ahead of this, ways he could prevent such a weapon from ever being made. Was it already too late? Could he really let this student continue unimpeded? What else might he develop in the future, outside of the academy’s purview?
“You know,” he finally offered, his voice rasping. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I used to think about setting up a track for healing magic for the Academy. Maybe I should do that now.”
Alana looked at him with an inscrutable expression. In truth, he had meant to learn more about healing magic when Kian had been killed, but so many other projects had competed for his attention in the first years following it that he never pursued it further. But it went back even further than Kian; when Volkmar had died, he’d regretted not knowing more healing magic. He had picked up bits and pieces of it over time, of course, but had never committed to the study of it, always busy with something else.
But for the academy to institute a healing track, while rejecting the development of magically augmented weapons—that would send a clear message, both to its students and to outsiders looking to them as the forerunners of magical innovation.
