Algernon Black || The Rise of a God ||

(Chapter 97) Still?

After the crowning, the students who had been a part of the battle and were conscious enough by the end of it to be able to join were told to adjourn in the same ballroom that those who made it through the tourney of the fall had their victory celebration in. Lucy was lucky or unlucky enough to be one of those people. She debated going, but Luke and her team had insisted she come. So she went back to her room, showered, and chose whatever dress she felt like, knowing that there was no point in being finicky since the nobles would judge her regardless. But at the moment, the nobles were the least of her worries, what really unsettled her was seeing Algernon again, yet she still wanted to.

Cecil wandered into the ballroom wearing his disheveled mess of clothes only there to grab a drink to numb some residual pain from his match with Algernon.

"Cecil!" A voice roared from behind him. The artifact user immediately acted as if he didn't hear anything as he pivoted for the exit.

"You lazy runt! Don't ignore me!" The deep grungy voice was now accompanied by a strong hand on the back of his collar.

"Oh, hi there Boyce." Cecil dully greeted. "Didn't think you'd be here tonight."

"I had to be," Boyce emphatically asserted in his surly rusted-out old man's voice. Cecil's trainer was in his 50s but had the energy of a 20-year-old when he was angry. "There was so much concern over your ability to use your artifact they were thinking of taking it away from you."

"What a shame." Cecil drawled, not looking the least bit like he cared one way or another.

The seasoned warrior was already a short-tempered man in the older stages of his life and Cecil's glaring apathy pissed him off like nothing else.

"You spoiled runt!" Boyce yelled, a blood vessel beating against his temple. "Calling you the blood lion! What a joke! I can't believe I ever choose you to inherit my artifact. Give it back!"

"You're too old," Cecil bucked, shoving Boyce's face away as he lunged for the earring. "You'd pull your back out if you tried to fight with it now."

"Then how about I fight you for it?" Boyce challenged, clutching Cecil's collar and hoping the threat would hit home.

Cecil stared unfazed directly back at him. "A good gust of wind could beat you at your age."

Boyce was so intensely swelled with rage he couldn't even find the words to speak as his face boiled red. "You fuckin-"

"General Izier" Boyce's profanity was interrupted by another gentleman joining them.

"Purveyor Alexis!" Boyce startled. His back straightened as he recalled the formality he was meant to speak with when addressing one of the four highest-ranking members of the Conclave, but he neglected to put down Cecil who he was still levitating off the ground by his collar.

"Cecil," Luke said with a coy smirk as he joined his father's side. Cecil snarled back. He wasn't motivated but he was smart enough to have seen Luke's plan that caused the current throbbing in his ribs.

Luke's father gave Boyce a polite nod but turned his attention to Cecil as the general dropped him in a hurry.

"You did well out there, or so I've heard." The purveyor spoke. "Luke even said you were on the cusp of defeating Algernon."

Cecil turned to Luke with eyes half-lidded in annoyance.

"No," He begrudgingly confessed, "I wasn't even close."

Boyce looked down at his old charge confused by the faintest hints Cecil's frustrations. Something he could only detect because he had grown to know him so personally while training him for the better part of his life. And the retried artifact user was more surprised than anyone to hear Cecil care about how a battle turned out because he'd never showed he cared much about anything at all, except getting sleep.