Meon was right. I am finally at a resolve.

I initially felt betrayed. Unknown to me this whole time, Meon and Cray had been friends with each other, making plans for me. And I was wholly convinced that the donor was the Kontacet family.

"How could it not be?" I asked myself. Cray Fenton and the Gallestons are suddenly well-funded. And he suddenly turned warm and friendly toward Meon's repeated attempts at outreach; I remember Meon before I came out here. And now they, together, are pushing me into an arrangement with while leaving me in the dark over the true reason. It was at this point that I first began considering abandonment of Cray Fenton, Meon Bell, and the Society altogether.

"But where would I go?" I thought. Dymensional-crafting, Meon Bell, the "Circle," Cabotton University; all of this had been my life. I thought back to the life I had before I met Meon Bell, before I started at Cabotton. It was nothing then.

And I couldn't leave and start yet another dymensional frame society. I had neither the money, nor the power, nor the resources to do that. Additionally, I feared that I would get a bad reputation; I already left the Third Level Society in anger, after all.

I thought back, once again, to the days before University. My mother had convinced me to attend a sort of school of trade in the hopes of entering the industry of finance, like she, herself, had done. I was prepared to do that in my final year of high school, back when I lived in Grid County in the province of Combria. In fact, that was the reason I came to West Terredon. I was taking a course requiring me to visit the financial sector of that bustling metropolis and conduct a silent observation on a University of Combria student working as an intern for a financial career.

I also had a hobby of mock-spellcaster dueling; not proper spellcaster dueling, as I was not yet of age to cast spells. But a mockup of such, where a player of any age could create an avatar for a dymensional plane consisting solely of a two-person dueling field, much simpler than the complex arrangement for the Third Level Society and even the "Circle." They had a regular venue in the Combrian town of Grid, a venue which I attended every Friday night. But they also had one, an even fancier one, in West Terredon, attended not only by locals but also many from all over the country, and even those from the Kingdom of the Great North.

And that was where I first met Meon Bell, who was visiting from South Masonia at the time. He first complimented my skill at the game and the choices I made for my avatar. And then he spoke to me at length for me to consider attending a spellcrafting school instead of studying finance. At first I was opposed. But after a three-hour conversation, I had been fully swayed.

He told me to apply to multiple schools owing to the competition, but also to aim, with impossible hope, to land myself a spot at the Hobbes School of Spellcrafting at Cabotton University. I never thought that the latter would become a reality, but, as I've come to learn, reality has its turn of surprises.

Then again, as I've come to learn, spellcrafting and dymensionalism, though cousins but otherwise two separate industries, are notorious for internal politics, such as that one would have to be lucky to have a stable career. In contrast, finance, as my mother would always insist to me, has more of a stable path in that regard.

However, though I am already still a student at Cabotton University, despite not having enrolled in classes this year, I would have to pass an entrance exam for their School of Finance. I heard recently there is yet another monstrous building project on the books that includes giving this School of Finance its own building. But the other caveat is that they are not yet accredited, which I guess is a matter of importance for a career like that.

In contrast stands the Linbraean Royal College, which my mother insisted I attend when she had spoken to me during our talks about my prospective career in finance. But not only is that thousands of miles away from where I have ever lived in my life, but I would have to, again, pass the hurdles to enter a different University. Yes, they are accredited, but I would have to pursue that at the price of starting over.

Undecided, I started drafting application letters for both the Royal College and the program at Cabotton University. This was what I was working on in my personal quarters on here on the second floor of the Galleston Farmhouse when a knock came at my door. It was Cray Fenton with a letter addressed to me.

That letter was from Ivella Ogden.

She was aware of the arrangement imposed on me by Meon and Cray, the arrangement which I was hoping to escape.

"...I promised to remain silent on the sufficient donation made to Cray Fenton as well," the letter read. "But I guarantee you upon my word that the Kontacets had no involvement whatsoever, direct or indirect."

"So even Ivella Ogden is in on this too," I said to myself. But...this was Ivella writing, so I had to read on.

"...my suggestion to you, Oscar," the letter continued. "As outrageous as this may sound to you, is to not only listen with full intent to the advice given to you by Meon and Cray, but to follow through with it to the very 't.' If you are not aware, there is a major vacuum in the fabric of the Third Level Society; and I, myself, am not in a position to address this in a way that needs to be addressed. Your presence, for the time being at least, may serve that purpose.

"This choice is entirely yours, Oscar. But please do a favor. I will be staying at 124 West Mason Street next to the University. I want you to come meet us at this location by Sunday September 1. And when you arrive, please provide me an answer to the arrangement, whether a yes or a no. This visit will be kept a secret from the broader population of the University and the Society until you say otherwise.

"I understand the uncomfortable feeling that my favor may cause you. But when time comes, you will understand everything. All the best, Ivella Ogden."

I was stunned. I was speechless. I was confused, for nothing made sense any longer. But after a long moment of silent deliberation, I arrived at a resolve. Tomorrow morning, I leave for Cabotton. What else is there for me to do?

I just wonder what Ivella meant by "us."