Ymiden 20, Arc 720
“And this concludes to-trial‘s lesson, ladies and gentlemen”, the Mortalborn who was garbed in an elegant suit of coal black with hints of crimson told the young men and women that were gathered in the lecture hall in front of him in a firm, but calm tone of voice and added, “Don’t forget to finish your essays. They are due next seven-trial, and feel free to …” He was just about to tell his students that they were free to approach him with questions anytime, but he never got the chance to finish his sentence as it was just then that a man with dark hair and slightly pointed ears burst through the door.
He recognized him as one of the Associate Professors at the Institute of Sciences, Orik Qy’Azour, a man of mixed biqaj and human descent in his early thirties that specialized in materials chemistry. “The … the …” Orik stammered, sounding rather out of breath, and looked around wild-eyed, as if he had just seen some sort of monster – or a ghost. He looked quite pale, and he was trembling slightly which caused the Mortalborn to raise a dark eyebrow in surprise as that kind of behaviour was quite unusual for his colleague, everything considered.
The man was normally not that nervous.
“Orik?” he asked in a calm, polite and measured tone of voice.
The mortal’s head abruptly snapped in his direction. For a moment he just stared at him, as if he were temporarily struggling to find the correct words, and then he blurted out, “The Chancellor! Something happened to the Chancellor! We were just in a meeting with a few other colleagues, and then … and then … he suddenly lost consciousness and fell from his chair. They are moving him to the Infirmary as we speak. Things aren’t looking good though. I …” he continued and took a deep breath.
“I was told to fetch you, Doctor Thetys. They request your presence at the Infirmary. Your help is needed”, he informed Doran who cast a glance at his students that listened to the exchange wide-eyed before he nodded, quickly grabbed his bag, and followed the younger man. As soon as they had stepped through the door, the students started to talk, quite loudly and animatedly which was understandable, considering the situation at hand.
As they moved through the hallways of the Academy of Viden, past other students as well as university employees some of whom were without a doubt wondering why they were in such a hurry, Doran tried to get a bit more information out of Orik who was still absolutely distraught. Doing so unfortunately turned out to be considerably more challenging than he had thought that it would be.
“Is there anything else that you can tell me, Orik?” he wanted to know as they moved down a staircase, towards the main entrance of the Academy. “Did the Chancellor act strangely prior to his losing consciousness? Did he have trouble focusing? Did the things that he say to you make any sense? Did he seem to suffer some sort of fit?”
Orik looked at him for a moment, furrowing his brow slightly, before he replied, slowly, as if he wasn’t sure about what he had seen, “There was something strange about his face, just before he fell from his chair.”
“Was one side of his face drooping?” Doran wanted to know, momentarily wondering if the Chancellor might have suffered a stroke, but Orik just shook his head. Already having some sort of idea as to what was going on when he arrived at the Infirmary would have been helpful, but there was no point in questioning Orik any further, he decided. The man did not seem to react well to a stressful situation, and he did not say anything useful beyond what he had already said.
For that reason, he simply quickened his pace further so that they would be able to reach the Infirmary sooner. No matter what had ultimately happened to the Chancellor, time would likely play an important factor either way.
It might even be the deciding factor.
“And this concludes to-trial‘s lesson, ladies and gentlemen”, the Mortalborn who was garbed in an elegant suit of coal black with hints of crimson told the young men and women that were gathered in the lecture hall in front of him in a firm, but calm tone of voice and added, “Don’t forget to finish your essays. They are due next seven-trial, and feel free to …” He was just about to tell his students that they were free to approach him with questions anytime, but he never got the chance to finish his sentence as it was just then that a man with dark hair and slightly pointed ears burst through the door.
He recognized him as one of the Associate Professors at the Institute of Sciences, Orik Qy’Azour, a man of mixed biqaj and human descent in his early thirties that specialized in materials chemistry. “The … the …” Orik stammered, sounding rather out of breath, and looked around wild-eyed, as if he had just seen some sort of monster – or a ghost. He looked quite pale, and he was trembling slightly which caused the Mortalborn to raise a dark eyebrow in surprise as that kind of behaviour was quite unusual for his colleague, everything considered.
The man was normally not that nervous.
“Orik?” he asked in a calm, polite and measured tone of voice.
The mortal’s head abruptly snapped in his direction. For a moment he just stared at him, as if he were temporarily struggling to find the correct words, and then he blurted out, “The Chancellor! Something happened to the Chancellor! We were just in a meeting with a few other colleagues, and then … and then … he suddenly lost consciousness and fell from his chair. They are moving him to the Infirmary as we speak. Things aren’t looking good though. I …” he continued and took a deep breath.
“I was told to fetch you, Doctor Thetys. They request your presence at the Infirmary. Your help is needed”, he informed Doran who cast a glance at his students that listened to the exchange wide-eyed before he nodded, quickly grabbed his bag, and followed the younger man. As soon as they had stepped through the door, the students started to talk, quite loudly and animatedly which was understandable, considering the situation at hand.
As they moved through the hallways of the Academy of Viden, past other students as well as university employees some of whom were without a doubt wondering why they were in such a hurry, Doran tried to get a bit more information out of Orik who was still absolutely distraught. Doing so unfortunately turned out to be considerably more challenging than he had thought that it would be.
“Is there anything else that you can tell me, Orik?” he wanted to know as they moved down a staircase, towards the main entrance of the Academy. “Did the Chancellor act strangely prior to his losing consciousness? Did he have trouble focusing? Did the things that he say to you make any sense? Did he seem to suffer some sort of fit?”
Orik looked at him for a moment, furrowing his brow slightly, before he replied, slowly, as if he wasn’t sure about what he had seen, “There was something strange about his face, just before he fell from his chair.”
“Was one side of his face drooping?” Doran wanted to know, momentarily wondering if the Chancellor might have suffered a stroke, but Orik just shook his head. Already having some sort of idea as to what was going on when he arrived at the Infirmary would have been helpful, but there was no point in questioning Orik any further, he decided. The man did not seem to react well to a stressful situation, and he did not say anything useful beyond what he had already said.
For that reason, he simply quickened his pace further so that they would be able to reach the Infirmary sooner. No matter what had ultimately happened to the Chancellor, time would likely play an important factor either way.
It might even be the deciding factor.